A walk through Central Park in Winnipeg, Manitoba had me wondering if I was back in Ghana or if I was still in Canada. Something had to be terribly wrong. No part of Canada is suppossed to remotely remind me of where I came from, or so I thought. What even baffled me more was, everywhere I turned, I just kept seeing other Africans like myself and a few other minority groups including a group I had come to learn about during my stay in the country, Aboriginals. I would almost have fit right in if I didn't feel like and wasn't being treated like a stray.
All I had wanted was to get to know my new environment as much as I could in the short time I had. Last thing I'd expected was to find a bit of my country in this country, especially since I had only been exposed to the plush neighbourhoods I had expected to see. As a matter of fact, I lived in one such neighbourhood. Of course, I termed these neighbourhoods plush by my standards.
As I got on a bus to ride out and head on back to the plush neighbourhood with a bougie name (Royalwood) I lived in, I couldn't help but hope all the people back home who would do just about anything to get out and seek greener pastures in the West could see what I'd just seen. Sad thing is I was one of those people. Worse yet, even though my neighbourhood in Accra was not as plush as the neighbourhood I lived in in Winnipeg, it was so much better than this place I'd just left.
Moral: (yeah, there always is one) there's no place like home :D
|This is so not Gh|