When the end comes...

A hermit said, 'As the order of monks is more honorable than that of the men of the world, so the travelling monk out to be in every way a mirror for the monks of the places where he stays.'

--The Desert Fathers

I dislike goodbyes.

I like having conversations with people before we don't see each other for long periods of time, but when it's likely that I'll never see someone again, I hate goodbyes. I would much prefer to just fade out of people's lives. But these past few days have been filled with goodbyes. And I feel very strangely about that.

The most epic goodbye was my goodbye to Jay, one of the people running my community service site. More on them later, but I sat in Jay's room with her for about an hour as she brainstormed all the ways for me not to leave. She's praying that my flight will be cancelled. (Said she's going to go on a fast to make it happen.) We also brainstormed things about how I can get back to Ghana. We determined that right after college, I should get become the manager of the World Bank, and therefore I'll be able to pay off my college debt immediately and come back to Ghana. Jay also hates goodbyes, so we said, "See you on Wednesday," because she's praying for my flight to be cancelled, after all.

Jay: Why can't you just stay one more day?

Me: People are waiting for me.

Jay: YOU'VE BEEN THERE YOUR WHOLE LIFE. WE ONLY GET YOU FOR FOUR MONTHS!

(also:

Jay: You don't like your hair.

Me: No, I don't.

Jay: Oh, my God. You are the FIRST white woman I've ever heard say that.)

The most hilarious goodbye was with the woman who sells grilled plantains on the corner:

Auntie Lydia: Wobɛkɔ fie deɛn?

Me: What?

Auntie Lydia: Wobɛkɔ fie deɛn?

Me: What?

Auntie Lydia: When do you leave?

Me: Tomorrow.

Auntie Lydia: ɔkyena.

Me: Tomorrow, late.

Aunite Lydia: ɔkyena anwummerɛ. It means, 'Tomorrow evening'. Say it.

Me: ɔkyena anwummerɛ.

Auntie Lydia: anwummerɛ.

Me: anwummerɛ.

Auntie Lydia: Good.

This is the first time I've left a place I loved and have been unsure if I'll ever return. I really want to make it to Mali sometime in my life, in which case I would definitely stop by Ghana again. And I have people to visit. But really, who knows?

Re-entry is going to be difficult. We knew this before I even left for Ghana, but it comes into focus as the people I've grown close to this semester start to disappear. As I toss old black clothes into the donation pile and new, colorful dresses into my suitcase. As everyone refers to me as "Mama C" and gives me a snap-handshake. As I think about the "How was Ghana?!" question I will get from genuinely interested people and how impossible it's going to be for me to answer. As I look at the weather forecasts and realize it's winter and where did fall go? (Can I just note that right now, Accra is 90 degrees (heat index 97), Richmond is 28 degrees, and New York is 37 degrees? I thought flying into the south would be easier!)

I ask for your patience with me in this process. I'm trying to give myself projects that will help that process (I've been saving more of the "this is how daily life works in Ghana" posts for the days over break where I suddenly realize that I haven't drunk anything from a bag in weeks and get nostalgic), but I know there will be days I'm frustrated and cranky. For my part, when this hits, I will try to minimize the effect this has on those around me. So there are going to be times that I need my space--please don't be offended, it's not that I don't love you, it's that I love you too much to subject you to any bitterness I may be carrying. There will also be times where all I will want to do is gush on about Ghana for hours on end. Again, I ask for your patience, though if I get rather annoying, let me know and I won't be offended. (though you get points if you'll dance around to "Waka Waka" with me.)

There's a lot for me to work through. I'm about to have a really confusing time. But that's a very good thing. Much more discovery to be had.

Slave camp.

Village in Volta.

FAN ICE.

Wli Falls.

Wli Falls.

Workshop with the artist whose work is signed Almighty God, Kumasi.

Abrui Gardens

Colonialism at Abrui Gardens.

Photo credit: Alex Chernow

Central Mosque, Tamale.

Slave camp.

The roomies.

The time we found and ate the only bagels in Accra.

Yup.

Marrying Cristann and a tree.

Donations to the widows in Bolga.

"Wavin' Flag" in Church's courtyard.

Slave camp.

Shea butter production.

Farewell dinner.

That chicken's goin' down.

Harry Potter release: This picture looks like it could have been taken in America.

Jamestown, Accra.

Madi's last cab ride.

Trapped in a tree trunk!

I love these kids. They totally kicked my butt in this board game...

My advice to you is to venture, meet some other difficulties, be a real student.

Real students go out of the beaten paths, wheather beaten by themselves or by others, and have an adventure with the unknown.

There are few /students/ in the schools. They are rare anywhere. And yet it is only who dares to take a chance, who as a real good time in life.

--The Art Spirit