“They” say “you can always go home”, they are probably right as that’s one of my favourite sayings.� Except sometimes it’s not that easy, sometimes you simply can’t go back home because you have no home to go back to.

Maybe I misunderstand the concept of home; is it the house you grew up in, a place where family lives or that place where you feel you belong?

The house I “grew” up in technically doesn’t exist, I can’t pinpoint a specific location where family is and I certainly don’t feel like I belong in that place where I’m supposed to belong.

I’ve rediscovered a lot of great old friends lately; and some that I would have liked to remain undiscovered, some remind me of home. A home I sometimes desperately want to forget.

My friend D is a believer in recreating good memories out of the bad – I don’t always quite understand how that works. Returning to the place of bad memories to rebuild happier ones seems like something that only works in theory.

There’s also a saying about home being where the heart is, my heart is in a rickety house off the beaten path few kilometres from the most glorious beach in the world on a very remote island, but that’s not really my home.

I have a thing (with songs) where certain songs are linked to certain memories so hearing these particular songs will take me back to these instances in my life. Sometimes when the memories are unpleasant I play the song over and over again until get through the emotions of that difficult time. I’m a big proponent for working through emotions; I never been one to sweep the ugliness of the past away and pretend it never happened – I don’t have the luxury of doing that for the sake of my sanity. But there are days when I tend to look back on the past as if it were someone else’s life or a dream.

Sometimes I imagine going back “home” to live happier memories, it would probably be easy but then I consider how true it is when they also say: “Humans, not places make memories”.

My co-worker’s son left for Ghana yesterday, I’m afraid I might have convinced him to go to a place that only exists in my head. I spoke from happier memories, of a place that I never got a chance to get to know. Of a culture that I only understood as an adult, and a people with an overwhelming pride in their heritage.

Maybe I’ve read too much into this home business than it really is.

Just thought I’d share.

Technorati Tags: Ghana, Gold, Chocolate, Rice, The Great African Scandal

Outdooring Ceremony

The outdooring ceremony is observed by almost all the ethic groups of the country. Although the observance may differ slightly in procedure from region to region, the substance and concept backing it remain the same. Outdooring takes place very early in the morning and is observed on the eight day of the birth of a child. It is the belief of the all Ghanaians that the baby remains attached to its spirit world for the first seven days. So babies are kept indoors and are not allowed to the yard of the house, during the first week. The baby is believed to have become a human being on the eighth day. In fact, if the child should pass away before the seventh day, there is no mourning for that child.

Early in the morning about 5 o’clock, the child to be named is brought to the yard of the house for the first time by its mother and placed on the ground below the eaves. After a while he is taken indoors and the naming ceremony begins. The baby is placed on the lap of the person after whom it is to named, if he is alive, or an elder male member of the father’s family. Libation, generally of gin or schnapps, is poured to invoke the blessing of family ancestors on behalf of the newly-born baby.

The officiating member then pronounces the name of the baby by addressing it in the manner: “Kofi, your name is Okae. May God give you long life and make you great. Your grandfather did great things. He was truthful, honest and kind. May you grow to be like him.” With a finger he then puts three drops of water into the baby’s mouth. Followed by three drops of wine, and in the process addresses the child as follows: “learn to recognize water as such and as distinct from wine. You have come to stay and not merely to make a brief appearance. Do not come to show yourself fancifully and then fly away. May God bless you to live to a grand old age.” The ceremony of water and wine symbolizes that the child should be guided by truth in all his future undertakings.

It is usual at this stage for the father to give to give a golden-ring to be put on the baby’s finger and to offer gifts to both his wife and the child. Gifts are also presented by relatives and guests. Refreshments are then served. The ceremony is rounded of by the guests standing to shake hands with the husband and his wife, saying. Mo tiri nkwaa oo! (May God bless you). The child is also introduced to the community, because the child does not just belong to one person, the child is part of the community. The community is instructed that this is their child and that they must look out for and help raise the child. At the same time, the child is told what is expected of him or her. …susubiribi.com

I’ve never attended a proper outdooring (baby naming) ceremony before.

This weekend I attended an outdooring party – which is a modern times appendage to the ceremony.

It’s normally held a few months after birth and more about partying than rituals.

This was the couple’s fifth and only son. I remember two of their other babies (girls) birth; I don’t’ recall being invited to celebrate their birth. I’m sure there would have been a huge celebration also if it were the other way around.

That said it was a very beautiful party. Our village has a new “son”.

Technorati Tags: Ghana, outdooring, baby naming ceremonies

It’s days like these that make being a vegetarian worthwhile.

You know – days of reports of diseased livestock from around the world.

There’s a cow in British Columbia with Mad Cow disease and there’re confirmed cases of Bird Flu in Ghana.

The CFIA maintains that no part of the diseased dairy cow entered human food or animal feed chain.

Apparently milk from cattle with Mad Cow is considered safe by WHO – I don’t know much about communicable deadly diseases of the nervous system but I doubt anyone will voluntarily want to drink milk (albeit pasteurized) from a cow with Mad Cow disease.

I’ve unsuccessfully tried to give up diary for almost a year now. I switched to almond milk which is great but the milk alternative in coffee shops is soy (which I abhor) so I end up drinking milk, almond milk ice cream tastes like some kid’s experiment and I don’t even want to try faux cheese.

Headlines from Ghana this morning was about the discovery of the bird flu virus. The first thing that came to mind was my mother’s chickens. My mother raises free-run chicken in her backyard – if you hear her talk about them you’d think she’s the crazy chicken lady. She raises them for personal consumption but lately I think she consumes them less and thinks of them more as pets, which is scary but we indulge her.

I’ve had hour long conversations with my mom about her chickens; there was the time when she needed “an innovative design” for a bigger coop. A couple of months back the chickens started to act out because of the long harmattan weather. The chickens don’t like leftover microwave popcorn kernels. I’m not making these things up.

There’s one chicken (I think the oldest) that misses her so much when she travels that it sulks when she gets back. Speaking of travel, my mother is possibly the only person who has somehow managed to sneak eggs past US customs (please don’t ask why she travels with eggs – she believes her hens lay the best eggs ever!) but of course no one touches them because we find the deep yellow hue unnatural. Ironic isn’t it?

I sent my mom a message this morning and the chickens are ok.

Technorati tags: mad cow, vancouver, bird flu, ghana

At independence, Nkrumah envisioned an industrialized and prosperous nation that would be free of deprivation. Back then, Ghana boasted a $400 per capita income, putting it on par with Korea or Malaysia; today, the two Asian economies are nearly five (Malaysia) to almost ten (South Korea) times the size of their West African counterpart. And Ghana is now dependent on foreigners, a donor favorite receiving more than $1 billion annually in aid…(read whole article)

Though I hardly read the site; World Politics Watch is one of the podcasts I’m subscribed to. The posts are infrequent but always entertaining and insightful.

Blake Lambert talks to three Ghanaians about their views on Ghana fifty years after independence.

Technorati tags: World Politics Watch, Ghana@50