Becomming Ghanaian

How I’ve become Ghanaian.

I now grab other people’s babies on public transport.

I can say “I come and go” in Twi: meKo&Bra

It takes me 2 hours in traffic to get somewhere 20minutes away.

I have attended a Ghanaian funeral.

I will attend a Ghanaian wedding.

I have received a Rasta-necklace, with a little cut-out of Africa, because his ‘heart told him to give it to me’.

I have attended the Ghanaian Human Rights High Court

And visited the Refugee Board of Ghana.

I have learned to mouth along to Ghanaian popular reggae and hip hop songs

And can sing along to the catchy adverts.

I have a Ghanaian name, but have learned to answer to any Ghanaian name, by simply correcting the misplaced name when someone I’ve not ever met begins a conversation. From across the street.

I return my glass bottles to the store I bought them

I casually decline offers of marriage and eternal love, from people I've just met. Or not yet met.

I eat with the fingers on my right hand

And have learned that distance and time are relative, transient. I have learned not to ask “how far it is” because, as a wise aunty said to me last night;

“it depends on how fast you walk”

But

I have not yet mastered Ghanaian sarcasm.

I have trouble remembering to use my Twi.

I have not yet tasted Okra stew, and do not have a pallet for Banku, the local favourite.

I still take offence, when someone says “white man” when we are walking

But I happily answer to shouts of ‘Obruni”, but only until telling my name.