Back to Cape Coast

After nearly two weeks on the road, returning to Cape Coast feels like coming home. I recognize its chaotic streets, its open sewers, its roaming goats. Well, I don’t recognize the goats, but you get my meaning. It’s a familiar craziness and after so much that has been new it is comforting to be surrounded by people and places you know.

At the top of the list is our Ghanaian family, the Kwaws. I’d missed them more than I expected. And they seem to have missed us at least a little, too. Normally taciturn Abu welcomes us with big hugs. Desmond, the youngest son, whose moods are as unpredictable as the weather is predictable, seems positively overjoyed to have us back, embracing us both with a lot of feeling.

Wallace takes a relaxed approach to such things. Over 20 years working with and getting to know visiting obronis, their comings and goings are just a part of life. But he seems happy to have us back and back safely; I know he feels a responsibility for our welfare, even if we’re dragging it to Burkina Faso. A smart man, but one who has done little traveling outside Ghana himself, he takes great interest in our adventures, asking lots of questions.

We’ve also missed our room, which we’ve come to call the “blue” room due to the light blue paint that distinguishes it from the white walls elsewhere in the house. It is airy, open, private, comfortable and the perfect place to escape to each evening and now after many days in hotels and even one on a chilly rooftop.

The next morning I’m surprised to find that the staff at Global Mamas seems equally enthusiastic at our return. This is a warm group of people and though we are barely more than strangers they make us feel missed. George, friendly, ambitious George, is the first to shake my hand.

“You’re back. Mr. Greg.”

“We’re back. How are you, George?”

“I am fine. I hope you had a good trip.”

“We had a great trip. But it’s good to be back.”

“We are happy you are back. This week there are big games in the Premier League.”

George has become my source of European soccer information.

Each of the others does the same in turn, offering nothing but smiles and gentle, endearing expressions of welcome. It does not last long; these are not effusive people. But it is unmistakable and for the first time I begin to think how very hard it is going to be to say goodbye when it is finally time for us to leave for good.

(Picture: Outside Kotakaraba Market in Cape Coast)