Ghana, Day Three: Red Dirt.

Today’s plan was to get my hair done. I was super excited because it’s been a while since I’ve gone to a hairdresser that knows what to do with my hair and doesn’t charge crazy prices to do anything with it. Unfortunately, my mother forgot that it was Pay Day at their office, so that plan was postponed till Monday (sad face).

My parents & my uncle in their site office.
My parents & my uncle in their site office.

My parents are Architects, and from the figures they were throwing around, I knew that what they were working on was pretty impressive, I just didn’t realise how impressive it would all look when I was there. I’m so used to them designing houses, small renovations or KFC franchises (lol, yes) that the sheer scale of this project was super overwhelming. They’re building a factory. Seeing a finished factory, and it’s skeletal bare bones are two totally different things. Once you see it unfinished and naked you can really appreciate the craftsmanship that has gone into creating something that you’ll drive past and ignore. It was pretty overwhelming, standing under these metal girders while men above me were welding, hammering, fixing and creating. There really is a special feeling when you’re working with your hands, or even just around people who work with their hands. It inspired me to build and create. The only downside to my visit is that I totally forgot to bring my DSLR and during my tour of the site I had left my phone in the office, I’m a derp, I know.

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I wasn’t even wearing sensible shoes! If only I’d known I would have come better prepared. Instead I wore the only black flat shoes I have and by the end of the tour they were covered in the most beautiful red dirt. One of my favourite parts of Africa is the dirt. It’s red. Someone once told me it’s because of the high Iron content in the soil. I should check that, but iron content or not, I’ve yet to clean the red dirt from my shoes, I’m not sure if I ever really could.

Hi-viz, being awesome.
Hi-viz, being awesome.

One of the foremen remarked to my father that I was a very ‘white’ lady, which made him laugh. It’s true that I feel a little bit like a foreigner, Ghana isn’t my home, it’s my temporary abode for six weeks. I feel like an alien here because I am an alien here. But this is Africa, there is always a sense of, “We are One”, regardless of country. “You’re African? Not from this country? Never mind, welcome home.”

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