CHAPTER THREE

As I settled into my new life and grew, I began to appreciate the beauty and warmth of Ghana. It was the gentle touch that brushed my face as I woke up, reminding me of the vibrant sun climbing into the sky. The mornings there were like a warm embrace, the kind that made you want to linger in bed just a little longer, savouring the comfort of home.

The sound of my family in the living room on Saturday mornings was a symphony of life. Laughter mingled with playful arguments, the clinking of dishes, and music playing softly in the background. Without fail, the sound of my mum’s voice would barge into my room every weekend, “Nelly! Wake up!” Her voice, a blend of sternness and love, pierced through my sleepy fog. I would stretch but still stay in bed. “You’d better get up before I drag you out of bed!” she’d warn. At the sound of that, I would quickly step out. As my feet hit the cool floor, the aroma would hit me, steaming kenkey wrapped in its traditional corn husks, the hot pepper sauce glistening with a fiery allure, the shito dark and aromatic, the eggs perfectly boiled, and the fish, fried to golden perfection. That breakfast wasn’t just food; it was a connection to my heritage, a bite of history that linked me to generations past.

I’d step outside, knowing exactly where I would find my dad: in the garden, tending to the plants and animals, which included four dogs, an aquarium, a cat with three kittens, ducks, a turkey, chickens, a goat, and snails, to mention a few. It was like our very own Noah’s Ark. He would greet me with a huge grin on his face. In the far background, I could see my little brother, who was not so little any more, animatedly talking about something he was watching with my sister.

Sundays were the heartbeat of our family, with everyone scrambling to get ready for church. It was the kind of harmonious chaos filled with laughter, playful teasing, and the occasional mini-argument. The sound of my mum calling out instructions, my dad searching for his glasses, and my siblings arguing over bathroom time filled the atmosphere. We’d eventually pile into the car, dressed in our Sunday best, only for someone to suddenly question if they had turned off the stove or the iron. Without fail, we’d drive back home to check, sparking a mix of groans and giggles. Not once did we return to find anything left on, but the ritual of double-checking became as much a part of our routine as the church service itself.

My weekdays were equally filled with activity. Since my kita in Germany was a Montessori, my parents enroled me in a Montessori school in Ghana. It was an environment filled with curiosity and creativity, where learning was an adventure and every day brought discoveries. It was there that I met my lifelong friends. We bonded over shared snacks during breaks and whispered secrets during and after lessons. These friends have seen me at my best and my worst, and remain constant in my life.

Moving to Ghana changed my life in all the right ways. What I didn’t know then was how this vibrant and sometimes chaotic life would prepare me for challenges I had yet to face.