Day 8: Taking that Risk

When I first told my friends about my intention to move to Ghana for at least a year, I was 16 years old. We were in an Indian restaurant and I don’t think anyone believed me. Even until this summer some of them were shocked by the reality of it. I guess since I hadn’t gone they thought I would never go.

My aunts all told me I wouldn’t go and I wouldn’t survive, especially without an expat job (the jury’s still out on that, it’s only been a week). You can understand why my parents and people round me thought I was taking a risk and although I despise the idea that life in Africa is a risk, or a brave venture (after all, there are 1 billion people here already) I was myself starting to buy into the idea that I, Charlene Bello, was taking a massive gamble on the continent! *applause please*

That was until I met my cousins’ mother. She upped sticks from the US, demolished her childhood home in Ghana and rebuilt in its place a restaurant. I don’t think I could reiterate enough to her how impressed I was that she had done that. People in Ghana don’t gamble like that. People outside of Ghana definitely don’t either. It obviously helps that she’s notoriously a good cook. My mum hadn’t seen her in 34 years and was still looking forward to her cooking.

El-Sharma in Dzorwulu, check it out!

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