The rhythm of life in Ghana has slowly taken hold of me. I have been in Ghana for 5 months now and have gladly adopted the patience and steady step of Ghanaian walk. I wish to share with you the experiences I have gathered along my way, the cycles of life, a taste of Accra, a scent of Ghana and the delirious touch of Africa. For those of you in Canada, basking in the light of day after a long dark winter, I invite you to step into my sunshine. Walk with me about the bustle of Makola market, where women carrying loads on their heads twice their weight swing their hips and bounce their shoulders. We will pass through streets urging us to dance as the heavy air carries afro-beat, high-life rhythms and the stench of fish in the sun. Watch the women as their bodies sway while their head stay firmly in place; mind your step, rotten tomatoes.

I arrived in early February, shortly after the harmattan had passed over Ghana, a dusty wind blowing from the northeast across the Sahara. It was the dry season and the immense heat dried up all ambitions to venture too far. I settled in Tom's place, an EWB volunteer from UVIC, on the cool concrete floor where I would sleep for two and a half months. Some sleeps would be interrupted as rain beat down on the roof, giving Tom and me moments to place buckets and bowls in well calculated positions to catch the water that squeezed through his leaky roof. The next morning would be cooler than most; a coolness which I learned could serve as an indication that the walk to work would require patience as the slick mud tried my agility.

I have enjoyed telling my friends that the mud is not so dissimilar from ice, they laugh in disbelief. This disbelief is often shared between my friends and I. My disbelief when my 'brother' Kingsley assures me that Eminem is, without a doubt Ofrigyato - albino. It is the same reaction I receive from my friend Ageiwah when I tell her that I have moved out of Tom's place. Why? She asks, when Tom's place can accommodate for the two of us. For privacy is the only answer I can come up with. But privacy has a different meaning here, when you cut through peoples backyards to get home, interrupting fufu being pounded, dinner being chopped and children bathing. In Twi, one of more than 40 languages spoken nationwide, peace, yen asomdwe, translates directly to 'public peace'. If you disturb the peace, you are disturbing public peace.

Since I arrived in Ghana, my eyes have become adjusted to the sights, sounds and smells that accompany passing over open sewers and walking through kiosks housing small children greedily grabbing for their mother's breast. With time, my attention has shifted its focus from the wide landscape of Alajo to studying the faces of the women, men and children who call me everyday on my walk home. Some of these brilliant faces have become friends who have taken me to be their sister and daughter, welcoming me into their homes and inviting me to eat.