The clouds were dark and huge in the sky, an army of strange shaped floats that had taken up position across the sky. I hurried to the toilet. Already the first small drops were falling. When I emerged, it felt like I had stepped on to Mars. The air was dark and murky, and at first I wasn't sure why. A strange, portentious wind was blowing, whipping up the dirt and dust on the ground. Towering waves of dust rolled across the street, and I timed my runs to avoid getting hit. Even so, I could feel the grittiness of the swirling dust in my throat. Black leaves streamed and circled above my head like crazed bird, and a brown roller of the fine loose dust swept between some ladies and the big cast iron pots they were stirring. People were dashing to and fro, emerging from the dusty gloom and disappearing into it again.
I was just inside the school when the rain began to fall. It came hard and slanting, torrents of bullets from heaven. The dust settled back to earth, and soon little muddy streams were winding there way here and there. And the rain kept coming. A downpour lasts five or ten minutes before exhausting itself, but not this one. The power of the rain was unrelenting.
Its been a long time since it has rained in Ghana, not since October or thereabouts. You can imagine how welcome this weather is to me. I've sent up the rain prayer many times before, just for a relief from the never changing hot, dry sun. I didn't know how much I would miss bad weather. I went outside the shop that is always thumping reggae music, and I took off my shirt and danced for a little bit in the storm. The so long unfelt water made me feel free. Then I went back to the school, squelching my shoes in the mud and leaping across the ever widening streams.
Now I am sitting in the office typing this. It is still raining outside, but the clouds are giving up the last of their guts. The school is full of noisy childrens eating their lunch, and inside the office the young teachers banter over the cries of the kids and the music on my laptop. I am the butt of many jokes, but I can give even better than I take. It is nice to know that one is safe and warm and dry inside, even as the elements batter away at the walls. It is a powerful feeling of comfort, of snugness, of home.
I know its been a long time since I wrote a blog entry. I couldn't muster the energy for a long time. But I will start again. The wonder and the curiosity I used to feel about every aspect of life here has disappeared, to be replaced with the routine of my regular daily life here. I quickly felt at home in Ghana, and now Ghana feels like an old home to me. I know the people of Accra, know their lives and their minds, know the different places, markets neighborhoods. I am now focused most on my work at the Street Academy, and on my music lessons, and on accomplishing as much as I can before I leave at the end of June.
But, as I emerged from the school, the rain over, and breathed in the clean, rain freshened air, I felt that original wonder catching me up all over again. The water had cleaned the dirt and dust from the air, and it seemed to me as if the world was born all over again. The bright tropical colors shone bright again, the obscuring filth washed from the green palms and the blue sky and the rich brown skin of my countrymen. The Independence Arch, which had always been hazy in the distance, stood in clear and sharp relief. I knew then that Ghana was still my home, and it had many more stories left to tell.