Global Remnez

A foreign aroma mixed with the sticky texture of heated air surround me as I lay in a pitch-dark room, 5,300 miles away from what use to be my home in little Birdsboro, Pennsylvania. Awaken by the sounds of chickens, and chanting in a foreign tongue I crawl out of bed. Hours later, I find myself encircled my cement walls, plastered with red coating of dust. The room is filled with chairs, on the break of collapsing, fifty-four other students sat, containing curious faces directed towards me. Wondering why a white student, or Obroni, there native word for a fair skinned, would be in a school of 2,000, obibenees, their name for a dark skinned. Realization that this will be a daily occurrence for the next eleven months, dawns on me. Not knowing how to adjust both anxiety and excitement ripples throughout my body.In my eleven months in Ghana, I had the great privilege, to take two weeks around the country, when I finished my exchange year, and had an incredible experience of taking a month to volunteer at an orphanage located in Brong Afo region. A tall, handsome Bavarian by the name Lutz and an adorable, blond Norwegian named Helle, accompanied me on this trip of a lifetime. Skinny dipping in waterfalls, hiking though valleys, witnessing traditionalist, recreating kinti, eating bazar foods, tackling severe sickness, falling in love with foreign creatures, winding our way in and out of unknown markets, hand feeding monkeys, and building long lasting friendship, I fell more deeply in love with country.
40meters off the ground, I walked one foot in front of the other down a pathway of ply wood and rope over a kakums, virgin rainforest. In cape coast, I met a chief decorated with assortment of colors, I saw beautiful beaches, and was broken to tears at old castle from the past which has lingering traces of slave trade from when the British.
Between a forest, a farm, and a market, sat a small orphanage, which had estimation of one hundred kids. From a seven month premature baby, who had a head that was smaller than my fist, to a thirty-five year old man, who was believed to be a murder, all considered the orphanage to be their home. Though I only lived in the orphanage for one month, I also thought of it to also be part of my home.I have heard that traveling is the only thing you can invest in, that makes you richer, not in the sense of wealth, but in the sense of maturity, experience, and new understanding of life. I couldn’t agree more.