the end.
I have arrived home with mosquito bite scares, a large motorcycle burn, a scar from falling into a gutter, the reminisce of malaria and various bacterial infections, 3 dread locks, unshaved legs, and many stories, friends, and memories. I apparently just wear my experiences on my bod whether I like it or not.
In the past 5 months I have fulfilled life goals of riding on the back of a motorcycle and a pickup truck. I have crossed every border of Ghana, received love letters and many marriage proposals, learned some Twi, interviewed over 350 market women about domestic violence and so much more that cannot be listed in anyway.
And I am home, I feel ugly because nobody is staring at me or asking me to marry them. I feel like I should know everybody because I knew most of the white people in Ghana cause there were so few of us, and everyone in America is fat, ugly and stupid. (Well I guess that was a little bit harsh, I am feeling cynical…)
But I am going to think about this year all of the time. It will shape every decision I make, every thought I have. My greatest fear is the fear of forgetfulness. I fear that I will just go back to living life as if this whole year was a dream, and I did not see the things I saw, meet the people I met- I just I have all the more reason to surround myself with beautiful reminders of what I had the pleasure and gift of experiencing.
