Slumber interrupted by “coos” and “caws”,
My eyes flutter open
to the soft rustling of leaves.
Laughter and music echo through the halls
as I beg for one more second of sleep.
From under my mosquito-netted canopy, I emerge.
A lukewarm (cold) shower nudges me awake.
Hopping off on the orange dirt path to class,
All I see passing me are
Ghanaians with dark skin and bright eyes.
Prolonged stares either punctuated
with toothy smiles and hellos
Or not-so-discrete side glances.
Oh, yes.
I’m different.
A foreign country I’m in.
Sweat streaming through the humidity,
I rush off to class.
A lecture hall rumbling with chatter
greets my hurried mind.
Everyone is Ghanaian.
Trendy outfits with loud patterns.
Girls with long shiny braids.
Out of place I am.
A foreign country I’m in.
Over half an hour passes
when our professor strolls in.
The next hour and a half
are jokes and chuckles sprinkled
throughout an informative lecture.
The humor flies right past me
as I strain my ears making sense of
his lilting Ghanaian voice.
A foreign country I’m in.
Even so,
I skip off to my drum circle.
Traditional drumming I’m ready to learn.
The class: half obruni, half Ghanaian.
Together, a community.
Drum beats dancing through the air
Singing:
“Where are you, my friend?”
“I am here!”
“Wherever you are, beat your drum!”
A synthesis of beats
woven together like kente.
A culture so full of meaning,
friendship, and love.
A foreign country I’m in.
Despite the hardships I might endure
as I adjust,
I take comfort in my friends
And experiences so pure.
A foreign country I’m in.
A country I hope to soon call
Home.
