This post was written in Accra, Ghana in May 2013.
I must have woken up at least 3 times last night, not to mention the flood of thoughts that kept me awake till at least 1 A.M., thoughts louder and more incomprehensible than the Twi sermon that was playing on the radio next door last night.
When I woke up for the last time, the neighbors were cooking outside, kids were bicycling in circles, chickens were clucking and dogs were barking, all happening independently of each other. I thought it must be at least 10 A.M.- the whole world felt wide awake except for me. Then I looked at Rosy’s strapless wrist watch and read 7:30 A.M. I wanted to go back to bed but realized that was pointless, with all the outside noises and ray of sunshine through the mesh windows.
So I got up. And everything, in their meticulous details, felt so real, and they still do when I revisit them with my eyes closed.
I don't even remember my shoes and walk over the cement floor to the kitchen, pour a bucket of water into the electric kettle and let it boil. I scoop coffee grinds, Italian Roast, into the french press and slice up a papaya into 6 pieces. The boiling noise reaches its climax then dies down. I gently fill the french press with this boiling water and let it sit. I eat my papaya, watermelon style, and place the peels into the compost bin. I use the toilet and don’t even bother to flush, as I was instructed by my hippie friend. I get my second bucket of water to wash my hands, wondering if my hands would be cleaner with or without using the brown bar soap that I think is supposed to be white. I use my hands to rub water over my face, and as I discontinue the use of water in this motion, I’m now wiping water off my face. I look at the mirror and make a face because my face can use some stretching as well. I press the coffee grinds and pour myself a cup of coffee. I stretch in the middle of the lounge. The blinds perfectly angle the sunshine on me. I step outside with the small mug that contains 10 sips of coffee at most. After my 10th sip, I decide to write because I want to capture this simplicity. I haven't felt this peaceful in awhile.
"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song.
You can't believe it, you were always singing along.
It was so easy and the words so sweet
You can't remember, you try to feel the beat"
-Eet by Regina Spektor
I used to feel so much, perhaps too much at times. My mom once told me that that's because I'm too much in love with life that I don't want to miss a thing. I used to feel like I shined, just as others shine in their life, but after some point, I just wished I could fade away and have nobody notice me. I wanted to feel again. The same day I decided I needed to travel, I booked my ticket to Southeast Asia. I don’t believe that I need to fly halfway across the world to get my heart beating again, but I've had this excel file on my desktop named “Dream Storage” that I created about a year ago, where I roughly planned out my dream trip in Southeast Asia. This seemed like the perfect timing.
After 2 weeks with the amazing ADE team and the research fellows, I have one more week in Ghana before I go back to the States for a couple days and fly out to Thailand on June 18th. But my trip has already begun. On this noisy yet peaceful Friday morning in Accra, I feel something so familiar, like this is how I have always felt before I lost myself in the craziness in life.
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