BackHome

BackHome Chapter 2

As we said our goodbyes to my grandmother we finally left to set off our journey to the airport, which was within miles from our village. As I sat in my “Fathers” jeep the thought of starting a new life, in a new environment surrounded my head, who was I kidding, I know nothing about England, not the language, the land, nor the food, how am I meant to survive; and most of all I'm going to miss the village ALOT, no more jump rope with Esther, No more fetching water with Erica, and what about Desmond the boy I had a crush on, stuck up Malia might get him now, but ohh well I'm going to London and there must be more better looking boys, preferably Ghanaian boys, I might be leaving Ghana to come to England but I love my people, my food,  and my language, Well let’s just say I love everything about my country, and I do believe we are the black stars, and as a 16 year old Ghanaian girl coming from poverty, I am going to try my hardest to be successful in Britain and build a good name for my people, seeing as if I love where I am from so much I am going to make my people proud, and show you don’t have to be white skin and blue eyes just to be significant to this world. No matter where you are from you should be appreciated but to be appreciated you need to put in the effort which is what I will need to do if I really want to become a spokeswoman for the children who live in poverty, seeing as I have lived all my life in a shanty house, I should know that it isn’t one of the best atmosphere to be brought up in, and working in a farm at the age of 3 is painful, also making yourself think that receiving water at least once a day is a gift from god, is hard to decide if we are either just unlucky people or it actually is a gift, as white people take water for granted; making holes in the ground of it to swim in, does god love them that much more to give them more of it than us?

As my thoughts came to the end of its journey so did my dad’s jeep, yep! We were finally at the airport; I stood in the line, with my heart pounding waiting for my passport to be stamped, its the first time I have been in one of these places, and many types of people past us, from Ghanaian athletes, to fund raisers, to the man sitting by the stairs; hands stuck out waiting for atleast a cedi to be planted in them.

As me and my mother hand in hand walked to the plane, as our flight had been called out, we allowed my father to lead us.

“are mo krado” (are you ready) my mother said, not so eager to leave her home town, you see change isnt always a good feeling, sometimes it is, like the change Martin Luther King Jr made or the change Nelson Mandela made, but even though they did make a change, why have I been growing up in poverty all my life?, why are all my friends and family living in our homeland, while we are going to be having the easy life?, in a white persons land the land, us at home know as the land of “success”, you see change only effects the people that make it, weither it is good or bad.

I replied to my mother’s question with a nod, and laid my foot on that plane, waiting for takeoff.