Prefer to listen to this post? Tune in…
Dear London, I was eighteen when we first met. A sparkly young adult not entirely thrilled with the thought of trading my University-of-Ghana fantasies for a new life with you. Oh…didn’t you know? I was going to meet my husband there and all, somewhere in the endless walks to lectures on the Legon campus. But life had other plans. So it was that we met on a bitterly cold January day.
Your markets across Dalston, Walthamstow, Brixton and Peckham were sites of unending stories and connections to Ghana for me. The Ghanaian shops there were some of the first places I ventured out to in the early days. In the crammed stalls, I found small pockets of community and eavesdropped shamelessly as people traded scintillating gossip in Twi. A cheating pastor here, the amusing antics of a Jonny-just-come there. Did my fingers hover over the kenkey for too long as I waited for one story or other to finish? Perhaps. How else would I continue to eavesdrop unnoticed?
I see memories of my becoming when I cycle your streets. Here, the sleeping willow tree under which I had my first London kiss. There, the station where I caught countless trains in the blur of life that was working while studying full-time at university. Elsewhere, the corner bar where I danced the night away. Over there, the barbershop that I popped into for directions at 2am that first night this newbie Londoner got lost in Hackney. Further still, the buildings where I took tentative, then surer, steps into my career.
Your green spaces and natural beauty have given me serene moments in a sometimes topsy-turvy existence. I have sat by your canals with lovers, talking about everything and nothing. Picnicked atop Primrose Hill, ringing in my quarter century with friends, until the sun went down. People-watched on the Southbank, sighing with the joy of summer.
Sometimes, I’ve treated you with the over-familiarity a city knows so well of its resident wanderlusters, swapping your sights for the experience of new lands. Croatia, Norway, Thailand and beyond. Yet, I always come back to you. At a time when carefree travel has become a relic of another era, I have taken comfort in your sturdy presence. Your busy streets turned ghostly in the wake of a pandemic that has changed everything. Bereft of the throng of humanity used to hustling and bustling across your vibrant corners, I captured quieter sides to you. I sought joy in simple pleasures of nature. In a time of great uncertainty, you have taught me the discipline of stillness.
Dear London, there are specific parts of being that are intrinsic to my Ghanaian upbringing. And then there are the many “firsts” and experiences of becoming that you claim. Because I came into adulthood and independence with you. You have been ticking in the background, nurturing me not only as I grow old, but also as I grow up.
For these and so much more, you will always be one of the homes I carry with me no matter where I go.
Ever yours,
A Ghanaian Londoner
An ode to my London. An ode to my London
[…] An Ode to My London […]