Eeeeeeeeeiiiii!
Eeeeeeeeeiiiii!

Sometimes trouble doesn’t knock before entering your life.

Sometimes…
you invite it.

And sometimes…
you even buy a plane ticket for it!

John returned home after a hard day’s work and found his fiancée, Betty, waiting excitedly at the door.

Something was different.
Very different.
Betty was holding an envelope like she had just received the results of a presidential election.

“John!”
“Yes?”
“The results are here!”
John dropped his bag.
“Which results?”
Betty waved the envelope.
“The DNA results!”

For months, they had been trying to discover their ancestral roots.
Where did their ancestors come from?

Which part of Africa?
Which country?
Which people?
Tonight, they were finally going to find out.

With trembling hands, they opened the envelope.
They read the results.
They looked at each other.

Then Betty screamed:
“ *GHANA*!”

John nearly fell into the sofa.
“Ghana?”
“GHANA!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”

“Not Ghana, Indiana?”
“John!”
“Okay, okay! I just wanted to be certain.”

They hugged.
They laughed.
They jumped around the living room like they had just won the lottery.

For a few glorious minutes, they forgot about the rent.

They forgot about the credit-card bills.

They forgot about the loans.

They forgot about the cost of living.

Because, as they say, when the bills are too many, sometimes you need a good distraction.
And this was a very good distraction.

They worked hard.
Very hard.
But somehow, their money disappeared faster than ice cream under the Ghanaian sun.

Every month followed the same formula:

Salary comes.
Bills arrive.
Salary disappears.
Bills remain.

Eeeeeeeeeiiiii!
They were living from hand to mouth.
Sometimes, it felt like their hands were even struggling to find their mouths!

But tonight was different.
They had found their roots.

Their ancestral home.
Their motherland.
Their homecoming story was beginning.
And just when they were still celebrating, John switched on the television.

There he was.
President Nana Akufo-Addo.
The message was about Ghana’s Year of Return.

People of African descent were being encouraged to come home, reconnect with their roots, visit Ghana and explore opportunities.

John stared at the television.
Betty stared at John.
John slowly turned to Betty.

“Betty…”
“Yes?”
“I think Ghana is calling us.”
Betty smiled.

“Maybe this DNA test was not an accident.”

That was all it took.
Within minutes, the living room had transformed into an international investment conference.

No PowerPoint.
No consultants.
No financial adviser.
Just two people and plenty of imagination.

“What if we go to Ghana?”
“What if we invest?”
“What if we buy land?”
“What if we start a business?”
“What if we finally escape this hand-to-mouth life?”

Their imagination had no limits.
In their minds, Ghana was waiting for them with open arms.
The land was fertile.
The opportunities were endless.
The people were welcoming.

Businesses were waiting to be started.
Money was practically lying on the streets.
At least…
that was how it looked from their living room.

The future looked beautiful.
Very beautiful.
Almost too beautiful.
There was only one small problem.

John and Betty had never actually lived in Ghana.
They knew Ghana through television.
Through stories.
Through photographs.
Through family conversations.
And now…

*through a DNA test.*

But they were about to learn a painful lesson:
Knowing where you come from is not necessarily the same as knowing what awaits you when you return.

Still, they were determined.
They would go home.
They would visit Ghana.
They would discover their roots.
They would invest.
They would build.
They would finally escape the financial struggles that had followed them abroad.

So,
They packed their clothes.
They packed their passports.
They packed their dreams.
They packed their excitement.
They packed their expectations.
They packed everything…
except experience.

And there was one other thing they forgot to pack.

Because John and Betty thought they were coming home to discover Ghana.

They didn’t know Ghana was preparing to discover them.

And Ghana had a few questions of its own.
“Where is your money?”
“Where is your land?”
“Who sold you that land?”
“Where is the indenture?”
“Who is your agent?”
“Have you checked the documents?”

“Have you met the chief?”
“Have you spoken to the assembly?”

“Eeeeeeeeeiiiii!”
The DNA test had answered one question:
“Where do we come from?”
Their journey was about to answer another:

“What have we come back to?”
And that…
was the beginning of the woes of John Smith, aka Kofi Bambara.
But John didn’t know it yet.
Betty didn’t know it either.
They were still smiling.
Still dreaming.
Still planning.
Still saying:

“Ghana is our home!”
Yes.
It was home.
But home…
can also teach you lessons you never learned abroad.

Thanks for reading
Havillah
Stories that entertain, provoke thought and sometimes make you shout:
Eeeeeeeeeiiiii!

*Disclaimer*
———————
This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, conversations and situations in this story are fictional and are intended for entertainment, social commentary and reflection. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
References to public figures, institutions, places or historical events are used only as part of the fictional narrative and should not be interpreted as allegations of wrongdoing, misconduct or improper behaviour.