There were so many emotions and thoughts swirling around in my head. I'm not afraid of flying, but you just never know. I did a quick meditation and asked for guidance and protection.
My seat buddy was a little blonde, grey haired petite southern belle. She even had on the blue jeans and cowboy boots to solidify her look. After introductions, she told me her daughter lived in Amsterdam with her husband. This would be her first time out of the United States. She was going to start traveling and live outside the box. She was divorced and at 55 years old it was time to be more adventurous. I gave her a polite smile. We connected on that level. We have to start living and experiencing new things.
She boosted of leaving her cell phone behind. That was a little much, even for this fearless woman. I need my cell phone! We continued to talk until the first meal was served. Since I am a vegetarian, I selected meatless meal alternatives, while choosing my airline seats, weeks prior.
A little secret: If you pick vegetarian meals, you're served FIRST!!!!
The food and conversation were great, then sleep came. I watched Michael B. Jordan's movie, Creed and lights out. After about 3 hours of sleep, the next meal was served. The meals on KLM are very good. I withheld from drinking too much. Friends and family know fluids, Carrice and bathroom lines are not a good combination. My bladder hates me. So I kept my fluids to a minimum.
The time went by fast. I was in Amsterdam. I briskly ran to the first restroom, there was a line. I saw a family restroom...I have a family. I got out of line and twisted to the family bathroom. The door glided opened by itself, like on Star Trek when John Luke Picard entered the bridge.
I returned to the terminal looking for my flight to Accra, Ghana. I laughed, because I didn't have to look for the gate number. I simply stopped when I saw all the colorful, long African style dresses and black men dressed in dark business jackets. I was in the right place.
The flight was packed, but everyone greeted me with a smile. This time my seat buddy, was a young Ghanaian man, now living in New York. He was going home for 3 months. He could tell it was my first time going to Africa. He didn't talk much, but he was very polite. Observing the people around me, I couldn't tell if they were really related to each other or if they recently met on the flight. Everyone called each other "mum", "auntie", and "uncle". I was amazed! I heard about the sense of community in Ghana, but I really didn't understand it.
I was seated in the middle aisle. In a seat up from me on the right, a young boy became nauseous. The young Ghanaian man sitting with the boy and his mother, didn't roll his eyes or complain. He put his food to the side and helped the mother clean her son. Likewise a woman flying with two small children had many surrogate "uncles" and "aunties" to help her during our flight. I didn't even sleep on the plane. I was too busy watching everyone interact with one another. It was just a different feeling. Majority of the African passengers had their shoes off and it was like riding a bus to a family reunion.
It was a family affair.
When the pilot said, "flight attendants take your seats", I was in Ghana. As the plane landed, everyone applauded and said Amen. Black people are the same around the world, I thought to myself. I wanted to see Kwesi and I wanted a shower. I really didn't know which one I wanted more at this point.
As I stood at the immigration counter, the lady, spoke in Twi. "εte sεn?". I answered, "Eyε" (I'm fine)
#BOOM. My boyfriend had been teaching me the language.
She smiled and said, "give me something in my hand". I said, "excuse me, give you what"? I thought she needed another document. Then I remembered some may try to get money, some think Americans are rich. I replied, "I don't have any cash". She gave me back my documents and took my picture. It took all of 7 minutes.
OK, I thought... get my luggage and be on my way to see Kwesi! Oh no sister, bag after bag came...where was my luggage? I waited for almost an hour and a half before my luggage finally come around the carousel. I pushed passed a German couple to get my luggage before it passed. I had my luggage. I was now a little frazzled, because Kwesi wasn't anywhere to be seen. I was hot. My silky blown out hair was now starting to curl at the ends. Where is Kwesi?
I continued to walk, but I never saw Kwesi. As I turned the corner, I saw a sea of people pointing, waving signs and just congregating in front of the exit. No one was allowed to enter the airport. Everyone had to wait outside.
It was now about 10 pm in Accra. It was very dark. Now, I'm of a lighter complexion black or African American, the majority of the people in front of me were a smooth, deep, dark complexion. I couldn't see any one's face. It was just too dark, too many people, horns blowing and words that meant nothing to me being screamed all around me. I was in panic on the inside, but my face was stern; telling the taxi drivers to leave me alone.
Then I heard a loud voice in the crowd, "There she is!!! AFIA! AFIA!" It was Kwesi. I walked out of the taxi man circle around me, and pushed my way towards his voice.
I will never forget the look on his face. The man's smile was so big. He looked like he had won a new car on the Price is Right! He grabbed by luggage, "I was so worried, you took so long! Suga Momma will be happy now. You have to call her, she is worried."
I was speechless. The 16 hour flight, waiting for my luggage, finally being in Africa, finally stepping foot in Ghana. I was overwhelmed and extremely hot and sticky!
WHY IS IT SO HOT AT 10 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT?!
I wanted to drop to the concrete, but everyone was already looking at us. So I didn't want to give them a bigger show. He took my hand and led me across the street to the parking lot.
I was now in Ghana. I made it safely. Once again I was trippin'. I couldn't believe I was in Africa - Ghana. Walking to the car in an ocean of sounds, lights and people that look like my younger brother and any other black or African American in the United States.
Kwesi was nervously talking. I whispered to him, "please give me a kiss". He stopped mid- sentence, turned to me, grabbed my face and kissed me.
The heat turned into a light breeze. I was in Ghana and in very capable, strong Ghanaian hands.
*Suga Momma is the name my children call my mother, their grandmother. It's a term of endearment mostly used in the southern states of North America. Calling her Suga (Sugar) Momma, implies she is as sweet as sugar and dearly loved.
*Trippin' is a North American slang meaning to behave in an irrational or crazy way.
www.carricequinniewriter.com
My seat buddy was a little blonde, grey haired petite southern belle. She even had on the blue jeans and cowboy boots to solidify her look. After introductions, she told me her daughter lived in Amsterdam with her husband. This would be her first time out of the United States. She was going to start traveling and live outside the box. She was divorced and at 55 years old it was time to be more adventurous. I gave her a polite smile. We connected on that level. We have to start living and experiencing new things.
She boosted of leaving her cell phone behind. That was a little much, even for this fearless woman. I need my cell phone! We continued to talk until the first meal was served. Since I am a vegetarian, I selected meatless meal alternatives, while choosing my airline seats, weeks prior.
A little secret: If you pick vegetarian meals, you're served FIRST!!!!
The food and conversation were great, then sleep came. I watched Michael B. Jordan's movie, Creed and lights out. After about 3 hours of sleep, the next meal was served. The meals on KLM are very good. I withheld from drinking too much. Friends and family know fluids, Carrice and bathroom lines are not a good combination. My bladder hates me. So I kept my fluids to a minimum.
The time went by fast. I was in Amsterdam. I briskly ran to the first restroom, there was a line. I saw a family restroom...I have a family. I got out of line and twisted to the family bathroom. The door glided opened by itself, like on Star Trek when John Luke Picard entered the bridge.
I returned to the terminal looking for my flight to Accra, Ghana. I laughed, because I didn't have to look for the gate number. I simply stopped when I saw all the colorful, long African style dresses and black men dressed in dark business jackets. I was in the right place.
The flight was packed, but everyone greeted me with a smile. This time my seat buddy, was a young Ghanaian man, now living in New York. He was going home for 3 months. He could tell it was my first time going to Africa. He didn't talk much, but he was very polite. Observing the people around me, I couldn't tell if they were really related to each other or if they recently met on the flight. Everyone called each other "mum", "auntie", and "uncle". I was amazed! I heard about the sense of community in Ghana, but I really didn't understand it.
I was seated in the middle aisle. In a seat up from me on the right, a young boy became nauseous. The young Ghanaian man sitting with the boy and his mother, didn't roll his eyes or complain. He put his food to the side and helped the mother clean her son. Likewise a woman flying with two small children had many surrogate "uncles" and "aunties" to help her during our flight. I didn't even sleep on the plane. I was too busy watching everyone interact with one another. It was just a different feeling. Majority of the African passengers had their shoes off and it was like riding a bus to a family reunion.
It was a family affair.
When the pilot said, "flight attendants take your seats", I was in Ghana. As the plane landed, everyone applauded and said Amen. Black people are the same around the world, I thought to myself. I wanted to see Kwesi and I wanted a shower. I really didn't know which one I wanted more at this point.
As I stood at the immigration counter, the lady, spoke in Twi. "εte sεn?". I answered, "Eyε" (I'm fine)
#BOOM. My boyfriend had been teaching me the language.
She smiled and said, "give me something in my hand". I said, "excuse me, give you what"? I thought she needed another document. Then I remembered some may try to get money, some think Americans are rich. I replied, "I don't have any cash". She gave me back my documents and took my picture. It took all of 7 minutes.
OK, I thought... get my luggage and be on my way to see Kwesi! Oh no sister, bag after bag came...where was my luggage? I waited for almost an hour and a half before my luggage finally come around the carousel. I pushed passed a German couple to get my luggage before it passed. I had my luggage. I was now a little frazzled, because Kwesi wasn't anywhere to be seen. I was hot. My silky blown out hair was now starting to curl at the ends. Where is Kwesi?
I continued to walk, but I never saw Kwesi. As I turned the corner, I saw a sea of people pointing, waving signs and just congregating in front of the exit. No one was allowed to enter the airport. Everyone had to wait outside.
It was now about 10 pm in Accra. It was very dark. Now, I'm of a lighter complexion black or African American, the majority of the people in front of me were a smooth, deep, dark complexion. I couldn't see any one's face. It was just too dark, too many people, horns blowing and words that meant nothing to me being screamed all around me. I was in panic on the inside, but my face was stern; telling the taxi drivers to leave me alone.
Then I heard a loud voice in the crowd, "There she is!!! AFIA! AFIA!" It was Kwesi. I walked out of the taxi man circle around me, and pushed my way towards his voice.
I will never forget the look on his face. The man's smile was so big. He looked like he had won a new car on the Price is Right! He grabbed by luggage, "I was so worried, you took so long! Suga Momma will be happy now. You have to call her, she is worried."
I was speechless. The 16 hour flight, waiting for my luggage, finally being in Africa, finally stepping foot in Ghana. I was overwhelmed and extremely hot and sticky!
WHY IS IT SO HOT AT 10 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT?!
I wanted to drop to the concrete, but everyone was already looking at us. So I didn't want to give them a bigger show. He took my hand and led me across the street to the parking lot.
I was now in Ghana. I made it safely. Once again I was trippin'. I couldn't believe I was in Africa - Ghana. Walking to the car in an ocean of sounds, lights and people that look like my younger brother and any other black or African American in the United States.
Kwesi was nervously talking. I whispered to him, "please give me a kiss". He stopped mid- sentence, turned to me, grabbed my face and kissed me.
The heat turned into a light breeze. I was in Ghana and in very capable, strong Ghanaian hands.
*Suga Momma is the name my children call my mother, their grandmother. It's a term of endearment mostly used in the southern states of North America. Calling her Suga (Sugar) Momma, implies she is as sweet as sugar and dearly loved.
*Trippin' is a North American slang meaning to behave in an irrational or crazy way.
www.carricequinniewriter.com
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