"Alice in Queensland"

The first time my African skin breathed the Queen’s air, I deciphered why 1^st world countries would forever, battle with the problem of immigration. Moving from 33^oC to 13^oC comes with a different set of convictions. You assure yourself that you belong here and there’s no way you will not find the means, legitimate or not to if not now, one day, settle here for good (at least for those of us perpetually dealing with the sun)! I should have walked straight into the bathroom and washed out my ears to be able to accommodate the new accent I was going to have to get accustomed to for the next 10 days. Little did I know that grasping the Queen’s accent had become complicated in the wake of modernity. My infantile assessment that this was my favorite accent in the world now stood void, as I struggled to grasp my “friends” whose lips were always less that an inch apart each time they spoke!

I would not admit that the following were culture shocks even though I think that’s how they are called. In the Queen’s country, there is more “Ceaser” than “Chicken” in “Chicken-Ceaser”. As the waitress beamed her wide smile and placed that large bowl of leaves sprinkled with sparse chicken on my table, I nearly called Yaa Dedaa to vent my frustration into her poor ears! I heard myself scream; “this is not what I paid 11 English pounds for, and do you know how much that is in my third world Ghana-cedi?” Yet, her politeness and sheepish smile followed by, “is there anything else I can get for you" in “my-most-cherished-accent” shut down the questions I had asked whilst being totally oblivious of her courtesy. I had escaped into a head-space where I had punched this English brunette out of sheer frustration! When I realized that would be totally typical and crude of me, I found myself beaming an equally sheepish smile and uttered a disappointing, “no thank you”. The next thing I knew, I was chewing 'leaves' and reassuring myself that I was in the Queen’ s country where healthy eating is highly esteemed and hence my current ordeal should be hallowed and not lamented!

Since I was in the Queen’s country for the first time, it was imperative that I visited some places. I had seen people who had been before take pictures by the London bridge, Buckingham palace, and those who happened to visit Manchester definitely took a trip to Old Trafford and by the “grace of social media”, I had been let in on their rendezvous. I therefore, had a fair idea of the places I needed to go, “to fulfill all righteousness”. I had to meet the queen to tell her of my escape, at least for a few days! So there I was literally running to Buckingham palace to meet the queen. Running along the streets of Central London was both exciting and awkward. I was too stingy to pick a taxi so trekking was my only option. When I arrived and saw several other people who had come to pay homage to the Queen, it brought a sense of accomplishment to my Spirit. My dad had mentioned that he would love to see the queen someday, days to me leaving home. Standing outside of the palace looking on at palace guards who barely moved, felt like I was fulfilling my dad’s dream of “eyeing the queen someday” at least, in part!

 I would like to say I love to travel and I do! But my financial resources don’t exactly permit me to say it with the kind of liberality that I wish I could. If I had my way, I would retire by age 45 and spend the next 15 years of my life touring the rest of the world. If I become richer than, Oprah, or go back home to become the “Nkosuohemaa” in the Kwahu mountains, maybe I could fancy touring the world.

There was something awfully familiar about shopping in Primark; where everything is cheap and first-timers always shopped. Shopping was fun especially since if you are leaving my homeland, your family would write you a list and then your other “family” would write you a list. This other family consists of church members, neighbors and acquaintances who are happy that you are leaving the “predicaments” they have endured all these years even if it is for a few days. They would like for you to get them a few things, which, they had been hoping someone would travel abroad, and then, they would get those things. Lo and behold, they had heard through a friend that your “star had struck” and so they are here to do what they “dutifully” should. 

Saying I got lost in the Queen’s abode doesn’t sound gratifying, but yours truly did and oh with all the ensuing drama. After staying in Primark for 3 hours and walking out with a bunch of bags, I started walking towards my abode and realized 10 minutes later that like Alice in Wonderland, I did not know which way to go. I needed to convince myself that I was lost and after deciphering my fate, I forgot in the 1st world, you do not ask for directions but use your GPS. So here I was with my 3^rd-world antics, asking a man who looked like a fellow African from the East how I could find my way back to my hotel. He suggested I went with him to his car, which, he claimed was not too far from where we were standing. I almost believed him, but then, I escaped to my mental space yet again where I could see Abeiku Forson’s face with his stern demeanor; “do not follow strangers”, I heard him rant and so after I returned, I politely declined, but wanted to ask him whether he thought I was a fish! But I didn’t. Thank God for the fruit of the Spirit.

For any newbie in any part of the world, the cultural and societal nuances can sometimes make you laugh at yourself so much you might wonder if everything was moving on well “upstairs”. If there’s anything I found most fascinating in Queensland, it was definitely the quickness with which the exchange rate came to mind. Each time I saw a price tag, it was as if the fact that €1 was at the time the equivalent of 5.6 cedis was as common knowledge as the fact that, Obama is the first half-black President of “Obamaland”. Each time I had to order food, I would instinctively calculate its equivalent in Ghana cedi, and immediately lose interest in that meal no matter how fancy the name was! I would remind myself that this amount of money could buy about 7 meals of “banku” back home.

 If you ever have fancied living on the countryside, you might just like Northampton. The farms there were both exciting and boring to look at. Passing through for one day, was sufficient for my short-lived excitement. Later that evening, there was a royal wedding since if you are in England, every wedding must be royal! More like my colleagues and I gatecrashed the wedding and oh we got those looks. Those “ what are you doing here and how did you get here” looks which I took to my humorous senses and drowned in my pool of “carefreeness”. After all, if you won’t be bold enough to ask me, then I don’t care either to tell!

In Queensland, I drank less tea than I thought I should, because before arriving, I imagined the Brits had tea for breakfast, lunch and supper. I heard “cheers” so often that I forgot it only meant, “bye”, because in my motherland, cheers was followed by clinking of glasses!   I fulfilled a teenage fantasy of crushing on a Black-British guy. May I just add that, the whole time this guy spoke, I stared at his face remembering how I always thought that was the sexiest accent on earth! On two occasions this friend of mine at the bar offered me free drinks and I thought; “I must be the luckiest girl on earth, at least for two nights”!

Travel more, see more, and broaden your horizon. The world is bigger than you will ever know. Should my fiscal state experience a miracle, I will definitely be aboard some flight for my next nomadic adventure! An alternative title to this piece is; “Okuraseni as3m y3mobo!” (ask any Ghanaian to explain that to you for a good weekend laugh)

Every now and then, it’s ok to laugh at yourself just a little bit!

PS. They called that brown paste, sauce, so I guess my reaction was just as fitting. If there’s something I will miss about "Queensland" it will definitely be the food. My “Fante” side definitely adores a good meal and questions any unfamiliar idea of what purports to be.  Yet, I was in Rome, so….

“Nos vemos el proximo mes” – That’s Spanish for “See you next month”…and no I don’t speak Spanish. Credit - Google!