Hello Kitteh!

The little fella showed up at our house about a week ago looking scrawny and mangy. It's fur is the colour of charcoal with little specks of yellow. It must be about five or six months old. It hissed at us but didn't retreat completely, as if to say, "I'm coming close so you can be nice to me but you should know that I can be mean too."

We gave it a few pieces of crushed keropok that were gobbled up within seconds. We left a few more for the night, alongside a bowl of milk.

We've since gotten some proper catfood for the little furball and a regular supply of milk. We don't see it more than once or twice a day but the bowls are usually emptied within a few hours, which is a good sign.

Cautiously eyeing the bowl of milk. Hakim sprinkled some catfood on the floor to encourage it to eat.
(PC: My brother, Hakim)

Yesterday the little kitty ventured up our back doorstep and took a few cautious steps into our kitchen. I guess it's trusting us a bit more. I try not imagine what it must have gone through to have become so edgy and fierce.

I brought the food bowls from our front porch and refilled them. Mama and I continued cooking while the little kitty enjoyed its dinner. Since Mama is mildly allergic to cat fur, I didn't let it get any further than our kitchen door. It seem to get the message and lounged on the steps, hissing whenever I came near but never leaving its perch.

I think we might actually have a pet. It's time to investigate 'it's' sex and choose a name now.

Sniffing out its new spot.

Getting comfy but still giving me attitude.

Settled in and chillin', finally.

Simple pleasures

It's day 14 back in Canadialand. Yes, I'm still counting the days to remind myself of lessons learned.

I draw pleasure from simple mundane things these days, like Popeyes fried chicken for example.

In my two-and-half months' stint as a jhr intern in Ghana, I only ate meat once. (Well, I might have unknowingly ingested bits of meat on several occasions, but I only knowingly ate meat on one occasion and it was halal.) Consequently, I not only craved meat in general but I also longed for the greasy, MSG-laden crispiness of Popeyes fried chicken. So when Abah suggested we break our fast at the only Popeyes outlet in Brantford, my head automatically bobbed up and down in agreement.

Now, fast-food-chain fried chicken is hardly our typical Ramadan feast. But then again, I’ve been lucky enough to see happiness in people who have a lot less than I do (to say that they have nothing at all would be a gross exaggeration, if not a sign of ignorance). I’ve seen people carry heavier loads, walk farther distances and endure hotter suns in a day than I have had to endure in my entire life. I find it a little bit harder to complain about things now. Too bad I had to go on a $5000-internship half-way across the globe to learn this but I suppose every lesson has a price.

As I write this, I can’t help but see how inconsequential this seems. But then I remember feeling absolutely contented on the drive home from Popeyes; the most important people in my life are alive and well, I’m doing what I love most in life, my belly is full and I have a home to go back to. My happiness is the sum of little inconsequential parts and I’m thankful that I have the capacity to recognize them. I hope I stay this way.

The sun made a beautiful display of receding elegently behind the funeral home across from Popeyes as we were leaving. The day couldn't have had a better ending.

Back in Canadialand

It's 6.30am on day 9 back in Canadialand.

During the early hours of a day like this, Ghana feels like a lifetime away. The pangs of sadness that accompany every thought of those I left behind are slowly fading. My eyes no longer well up whenever I think of my office mates at Luv/Nhyira FM. I no longer get choked up whenever I think of the people I see every morning on my way to work - Ahmad Musa the elderly security guard at our guesthouse, the old lady selling roasted plantains and coco-yam, and Mable, the ten-or-so-year-old girl who helps her mom at her little breakfast stall. Yup, I was that emotional during those last few days in Kumasi.

I haven't shed a single tear since I came back but I still use the exclamation mark extravagantly whenever I chat with my friends from the Gold Coast. I still miss them terribly and the feeling is bitter-sweet. I'm glad to be back on my home turf surrounded by all my creature comforts but it still hurts a little to grow so attached to some people over such a short period of time and then leave them.

I miss my morning routine of catching a tro-tro to work, getting let off in the middle of traffic (sometimes) and dodging between cars and motorbikes to get to my office. I miss walking into the lively newsroom at Luv/Nyhira and setting up my laptop at the 'international desk' - the side of the newsroom reserved (or relegated, depending on how you look at it) for those of us with our own laptops.

I miss the way people greet each other so wholeheartedly with a 'good morning' and a heartfelt handshake, as though they haven't been meeting one another every single morning. I miss the way every visitor to the newsroom goes around to acknowledge every person with a greeting.

I miss the way my single-syllable name gets played around with or discarded completely;
Saeed: Shazleeeeeeennn!
Ohemeng: My Lin. Our Lin. Their Lin. Lin Lin.
Kofi: Lin hu shuu!
Kwabena: Miss Abdul Rahman.
Kate: Oieebo!
Benji: Obruni!
Dela: Lane!

I could go on and on with my list of why I miss Ghana but I won't. As much as it saddens me that these things have to be in the past in order for them to be cherised, I'm thankful to have had the experience. I must have been asked a hundred times if I will return to Ghana. My response was initially vague or ambivalent; now I can say with resolute certainty that I want to go back for another visit. Ghana, Kumasi and every one I met there will always have a special place in my heart no matter how many times I return to Africa.

My last day at Luv/Nyhira FM. I brought everyone some farewell gifts so they rushed out and got me a kente-print dress and some beautiful wood carvings in 'retalliation'. I was, and still am, deeply touched.
From left: Freddy, Zarau, Kofi, Cynthia, Eric, me, Gloria, Ohemeng, Kwabena.