Page 93 - Obruni In Ghana | Amber Lockridge

OBRUNI IN GHANA 91
so often sported near me before I left. My relationship with my parents, none-too-good in my last year of high school, has blossomed into a daily interaction I genuinely look forward to. I recognize and appreciate the efforts they are making to receive me as a new and wiser person. I can even admit, though not to them, the pity and respect I hold for their having to put up with me for nineteen long, tumultuous years.
I feel like I really belong here. After a year of extreme cultural discrepancies, the differences in my native community seem negligible. I can communicate with my family so much easier because we think alike. Certain concepts go without saying and I see the heritage of who I’ve come to be all around me. I have my father’s love of projects; we both spend our weekends in the midst of scattered materials, avidly studying how they go best together. I share with my mother an emotional vulnerability that was utterly foreign in my Ghanaian experiences. My sister and friends embody the youth culture I fit into without ever previously realizing it. In fact, I