When I came to say my goodbyes, I looked around my little house and thought, I will be really pleased not to sleep here again. I will be happy not to wake up caked in dust, happy not to have to search high and low for a pot to boil water in that does not have a hole in its bottom.
But when Papa called me into his room to say goodbye, it was very different. He clasped my left hand, the hand that Mandinkas say goodbye with because it's the hand of the heart, and said,
"Please tell your father that my health is fine, that we are all fine, and that I hope his health is fine. Please tell him that you have been a good daughter to us, and that you are a part of us, that we will miss you. Please tell him that."
I turned away and sobbed.
I found your blog by chance. I lived in Dakar and Abidjan for 1.5 years after college. Your stories make me smile with homesickness.(You write beautifully) I spent a week in a village in Guinea (Conakry)and when I left the chief clasped my hand and told me no matter where I went in all the world I could always come back to that place, because I was now his daughter and that was my home. I cried that night, too.
ReplyDeleteWell, it seems today is the day for people finding your blog - i found it a few days ago and have been reading and reading. I live in Liberia and have been there mostly (some time in the US, Dominica and Ghana when things were too bad or I was sick) since 1995. I am now in the US and will return to Ghana in a few months and on to Liberia later. So much of what you are writing rings so many bells and touches my heart. At times I can't stop giggling or feeling as if I am back on my back porch cooking over coal with my friends!!! I would like to write to you but no email address. I am very interested in your writings about the music scene as I work with musicians, actors, dancers and drummers also. The last few years I am making radio dramas. Would it be possible to know where to read your stories and also to contact you! Thank you for your wonderful writing! Renee
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