15th of August 2013 — I remember the day like it was yesterday (literally) — in one hand I held a rejection letter from Harvard College, and in the other, an acceptance letter from Ashesi University. After making it to the final round of interviews at Harvard, I was super confident that I would get accepted, but, there it was, right in front of me, a rejection. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled to have been accepted into Ashesi, but, Harvard was my first choice (in my head at the time, my only choice). Fast forward, one month later, I was on a flight to Ghana, with no idea whatsoever of the adventure that awaited me. All I knew about Ghana then, was that they had the best jollof rice (I have now come to believe that Nigeria actually has the best jollof rice, but that’s beside the point).
A warm gush of hot air slapped my face as I walked out of the plane. From Nairobi’s 17 degrees Celsius to Accra’s 29 degrees Celsius (at 7pm *rolling eyes*) trust me, I was not pleased. But here I was, in Ghana, ready (or not so ready) to begin a whole new journey for the next four years — yes, this was my chant the whole way as we drove on to the plains of Berekuso (a town in the Eastern Region of Ghana, an hour away from Accra) where Ashesi’s absolutely stunning campus is situated. “Here goes nothing!” I said to myself as I stepped foot on the grounds of Ashesi’s rocky campus.
What was not going wrong in my life? I could not eat the food (because most of it was cooked with palm oil), I could not understand the language, nor the culture, I missed my friends, I could not express myself without being judged, I lived in a room with four other people, I could not work out or find a quiet place to meditate, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin — I was nothing less than miserable to be honest. First semester, second semester, third semester… It wasn’t getting any better, and I just wanted to leave it all behind and go back home. And so the universe presented me the chance to do so — pack up and not come back — Ebola was real, and I was back home in East Africa, my parents adamant about the fact that they were not sending me back to West Africa until the outbreak fizzled out. But for some strange reason, I rebelled and insisted on coming back. I missed Ghana! I missed Ashesi!
