Nana Nkrumah
English 110
Dr. Vanderzeeal
02/02/2024
Coming to America
This tale harkens back to the Black Sheep year when a newborn entered the world in the small town of Accra, nestled in Africa’s Ghana. The country was known for its tranquility and numerous activities. In the vibrant streets of “Kanation Circle,” the pleasing aroma of food filled the air from morning until evening. In my small town of Kotobabi, food vendors sang as they sold their goods, children played in the streets, got hurt, and
got up just to keep going like nothing ever happened. A strong sense of community prevailed. However, amidst these joys, a lot of challenges lurked. Some children couldn’t attend school due to not being able to afford it and were compelled to seek alternative ways to make a living. The town, and indeed the entire country, grappled with underdevelopment and poverty.
A couple of years later, our father, Mr. Nkrumah, clung to a dream for his family—to relocate to the United States for a more comfortable life. Although we observed the challenges and disagreements between our parents over this decision, my brother, sister, and I didn’t fully grasp the seriousness of the situation. Fondly nicknamed “the three troublemakers,” we naively believed life was all about joy and simplicity, engrossed in watching our favorite cartoon show, ‘Supa Strikers.’ However, our carefree moment was interrupted by the sudden slam of the door and our father’s ecstatic proclamation, “I did it! I did it! We are going to America.” Uncertain about where we would find shelter at night, my mom had many questions. In approximately two weeks, we found ourselves at the airport, eagerly awaiting our turn to board a plane. My parents had successfully worked out all the details and were preparing for this significant, life-changing move. 
I remember patiently waiting in the car, eagerly anticipating what had become my favorite thing in the world, the Burger King chicken fingers. The world seemed like a better place at the time. It had been three months since our day of landing. Not having any family members in the States, my Dad’s plan was to move in with a friend he knew in high school. He had a girlfriend who had a kid. His name was Han-if. He was around the same age as my older brother and we played together all the time. We all got along very well and lived together in harmony. They helped us a lot in our time of struggle. My siblings and I found ourselves living in this idyllic paradise for a long time until yet again, we got interrupted. Doom day finally came.
We were watching TV downstairs one day when we heard a lot of yelling from the main bedroom and this time it wasn’t good. They were arguing. My father’s friend and his girlfriend were arguing. This had persisted for about a week and we never knew why. Later on in the day, we found out why. Our parents came to us and told us we were going back to Ghana. They were moving out is the just explanation they gave us. The lady owned the property and decided to take in Kow Awotwe; my dad’s friend, because they were dating. She was prepared to move in with us to her new home altogether, but the man we believed cared for us had betrayed our trust. He convinced her to not move in with us. We cried for what felt like an eternity, overwhelmed by a multitude of sorrows. Yet, amidst it all, my mind fixated on seemingly trivial memories: the tantalizing crispiness of Burger King chicken fingers and the joyous occasion of riding a horse in the park while enjoying ice cream. It dawned on me that these simple pleasures might never be mine again. The realization hit harder as I grappled with the fact that we’d never see our best friend, Han-if, again, and, most significantly, my father’s dreams, embodied in Mr. Nkrumah, had been utterly crushed.
When all hope seemed lost, my mother took a daring leap and chose to stay behind, leaving her children behind temporarily. She moved to North Carolina to pave the way for herself. Initially, she secured a job at a nursing home and shared living arrangements with a roommate for a few months before eventually getting her own place. Her sole focus was on working hard to save enough money to reunite with her family. This dedicated lifestyle persisted for eight long years, during which she never saw her children.
Returning to Ghana was the greatest blessing for us. Life in Ghana was truly vibrant. We moved back to Accra with our Grandma; “Sister Aba”. We resided in a flat owned by my Uncle, who generously provided us with a vacant room. For three years, all four of us lived together in that modest space. During our mother’s absence, my sister took on the responsibility of caring for us. Despite the challenges, we quickly made friends at school and adapted to our new environment. However, two significant problems persisted: our parents were physically distant from us. With Mom located 9,882 kilometers away and Dad working in a neighboring town to support us, we learned to adjust our attitudes and adapt swiftly.
Although we had little material wealth, we remained grateful for what we had. Our parents’ perseverance through adversity instilled in us a clear understanding of life’s realities. We learned that achieving our desires required hard work and sometimes necessitated sacrifices. My mother’s enduring patience and steadfast commitment over those eight years drew me closer to her, revealing her deep love and determination to provide for her children. This experience taught me that almost any situation, no matter how challenging, can be overcome with perseverance and dedication. It taught me never to abandon my goals and to always strive for improvement, regardless of the circumstances.
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