Today is a perfect autumn day. It is 51° and sunny. The sky is blue everywhere. We have a breeze, but it mostly sways only the tallest branches. The dogs are in and out. They hate to waste a day like today.

The mouse count is now 7. Only one trap last night held a wee beastie.

Last night I went through all the pictures of my two years in Ghana. It is a journey I love taking. My memory drawers are filled with the stories behind those pictures. I can close my eyes and still see it all. The first picture was taken on the bus from the hotel to the airport. I am wearing a white top. What you can’t see is the skirt I’m wearing. I remember it was pink and filled with flowers, and I always wore it with that top. I didn’t know the names of most of the people on that bus, but I came to know them all. The next picture was of Kotoka Airport in Accra. As we got ready to land, we all crowded together to look out at Ghana below us. I remember standing in the airport and being welcomed by Peace Corps and by Ghanaian officials. I remember we stood, on the second floor with a bank of windows behind us overlooking the tarmac. We were toasted with Fanta, which meant only the orange drink. I remember seeing the plane’s crew buying souvenirs at a kiosk in the airport. One of them bought a spear. We boarded busses.

I took pictures from the bus windows. A couple are of the kiosks lining the sides of the road and of women standing waiting to cross the road. Each woman is wearing clothes made from colorful cloth and some had babies on their backs. That first look had me in awe, had me realize I was in a place I didn’t recognize in any way. I remember gawking out the window until I fell asleep. Later that view became commonplace, and sometimes I too would be waiting with the women on the side of the road.

I know why I remember so much. Though I came to feel at home and had daily routines, I never took living there for granted. My memory drawers worked overtime capturing every experience, every trip to the market, every walk across the school compound, every lesson in a classroom filled with students I remember, every rainy season and every greeting.

Those pictures are really a newsreel holding on to visuals vibrant and alive, the sights and sounds of my life in Ghana.

This entry was posted on November 2, 2025 at 1:45 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments.

Tags: Ghana, memories, Peace Corps, photos