January 6th (time running out)

Not sure where to start now. I spent New Years Day in Ho attending a 4 yr olds birthday party. Parties are serious sombre affairs here in Ghana with lots of rules and prayers...and plenty children sat obediently in rows. I also learned there are 4 verses to 'happy birthday'!! Not a lot of people know that. I'll teach you all when I get back.

I left Ho on the 2nd and headed for Kokrobite and the beach.  

When people get things right here, boy do they do it right. I have more pics to upload when I return. After being locked in a closet sized room in Ho, I am beyond content here and it only seems to get more relaxing and more beautiful every day.

I met my african american counterpart, the lovely miss Jennifer. Were we not different colours, you would believe us to be twins. Our lives to date are mirror versions of one anothers! 

I have done little at the beach but think about my time here and how soon it is ending and all I can think about now is that it is rapidly coming to an end. I'm not sure I can put into words how this feels. As I sit here now, my stomach is in knots, a lump in my throat and my eyes are stinging from fighting the tears that have been building for days. I cannot explain how I feel about Africa. It is the most maddening, confusing, frustrating place...it completes me and draws me back like a jealous lover. I know next time I come back, I must stay, no matter what because I cannot keep leaving. Every time I leave, I lose a piece of my soul and more of my heart breaks. I truly do not think I am strong enough to leave again. The idea of putting on my boots and voluntarily boarding a plane to take me away from here makes my feet turn to lead. I imagine I know how it feels to walk towards your executioner. All I can think of is the darkness and the loneliness awaiting me back in London. How did this happen? Too many people have told me I have an African spirit for me to doubt it. I don't just belong here, I am unable to function and fit in anywhere else. I want to scream " Don't make me leave". I envision being dragged kicking and screaming to the airport like a badly behaved child. I cannot believe this is not a bad dream. I do have to leave. It will be an unbearable amount of time before I see the ocean, a bright red sun and go to sleep listening to the waves crashing. Before I walk barefoot and eat with my fingers. I don't know how to stop writing aware that this could be my last entry, other than to upload photos next week. I hear a voice in my head already mocking me, calling me back before I have left. When I told the rastaman how I have such awful headaches in London all the time, he told me that wasn't stress..it was Africa shouting, calling me to come home.....I don't think the rastaman is ever wrong.