Nchang ka kana (I will go and come)
I’ve wrapped up two days of World AIDS Day events, graded finals, said some painful goodbyes to volunteers on their way home for good, and packed up for a much needed American vacay. I will be home for a month relaxing, eating myself sick, catching up on Twilight and Jon and Kate phenomenons and hugging little brothers. A heads up on some things before I come home:
I don’t have any money. I’m living far beneath the poverty line. Buy me a drink? Or a bagel?
My vocabulary has regressed to that of a second grader. That is because my daily conversations usually go something like this: Good morning. Good morning. How is it? It is fine. How was the night? The night was fine. … I hope it rains today. Oh, they won’t come. Are you sure? Oh madame, I am sure. Ok then, small time. Small time. Bye bye-o!
I get scared when around large groups of white people.
I may be using Ghanaian catch phrases, like, ‘small, small’, and ‘is that so?’ or ‘Are you suuure?’ and ‘sorry-o’, ‘bye bye-o’, ‘trouble-o’.
My humor has become more tasteless than it already was.
When you complain about anything in my presence, I will roll my eyes and remind you I don’t have running water. You can roll your eyes back, I’ll understand.
My wardrobe is a year behind the times, it’s kind of embarrassing. And by ‘my wardrobe’, I do mean the purple tank top and black gauchos I wear every day.
I will talk very fast. Like, what did she just say? fast. I don’t know why, maybe because I feel like I have so much to say and so little time to say it. But every time I come in contact with another American it's like I’m listing the medical side effects in a Viagra commercial.
I may be more affectionate than you remember. Muslims don’t hug.
If I seem tired it is because I usually average 12 hours of sleep.
I may be unreasonably cold. One night it got down to like, 70 degrees, and I fell asleep shaking. But, snow…swoon. So worth it.
Hey, see you soon!
I don’t have any money. I’m living far beneath the poverty line. Buy me a drink? Or a bagel?
My vocabulary has regressed to that of a second grader. That is because my daily conversations usually go something like this: Good morning. Good morning. How is it? It is fine. How was the night? The night was fine. … I hope it rains today. Oh, they won’t come. Are you sure? Oh madame, I am sure. Ok then, small time. Small time. Bye bye-o!
I get scared when around large groups of white people.
I may be using Ghanaian catch phrases, like, ‘small, small’, and ‘is that so?’ or ‘Are you suuure?’ and ‘sorry-o’, ‘bye bye-o’, ‘trouble-o’.
My humor has become more tasteless than it already was.
When you complain about anything in my presence, I will roll my eyes and remind you I don’t have running water. You can roll your eyes back, I’ll understand.
My wardrobe is a year behind the times, it’s kind of embarrassing. And by ‘my wardrobe’, I do mean the purple tank top and black gauchos I wear every day.
I will talk very fast. Like, what did she just say? fast. I don’t know why, maybe because I feel like I have so much to say and so little time to say it. But every time I come in contact with another American it's like I’m listing the medical side effects in a Viagra commercial.
I may be more affectionate than you remember. Muslims don’t hug.
If I seem tired it is because I usually average 12 hours of sleep.
I may be unreasonably cold. One night it got down to like, 70 degrees, and I fell asleep shaking. But, snow…swoon. So worth it.
Hey, see you soon!
Comments