November 11th, 2015, 7pm


It’s not the same, is it?
A new wine, an old wine
Memory is perhaps like this… it is many things, different at different times…
It’s this place in your heart or in your mind, that continues to evolve with time
Like leaves on a tree in rainy season they blossom, they are beautiful.And in harmattan they wither, they get old and crack…they have their own beauty too…
Changing always as we feed it, as our mind and circumstances brings experience to bear. Sometimes the painful ones are still painful. Sometimes they are for you a testimony of your strength - they remind you you survived - and assure you will continue to survive what else may come. The sweet memories - sometimes loose lustre - you can’t remember them as vividly as you would like to, even though you try to feed it. Perhaps because they’ve been muddled with the painful memories. Other times like all memories, there only remains a faint feeling you call back to remember a more vivid experience. But that’s not all there is to say about memories there are times when they come back fully, strongly, sharply causing your heart to skip a beat, your body to shiver, tears to fill your eyes, causing you to fall on your knees, to cuddle yourself and relive them.
Blossoming leaves, Withering leaves all still spring from the same tree. I wonder how the tree feels about both: the withering leaves when the harmattan season comes and how it feels about the blossoming leaves when the rainy season comes.

This journey was a redemptive one as much as it was one of discovery. We were on the road … and now I was itching to pick up my notebook and scribble fleeting thoughts - one thought sparking chains of thoughts.
We were leaving Ghana, going to another country, but by the time we went out of the Greater Accra region, I was already feeling like I was in a foreign land. I realised how little of my own country that I knew. I can’t even describe it, if you have ever been to a place you didn’t know, and you were completely lost as to where to head left all alone. Then you know what I am talking about. If you have never been lost before then you are just plain boring. Get a life!
The roads were beautiful.The driver was moving fast but steadily at about 120km/h . The road seemed to support the vehicle well. I couldn’t help daydreaming. This was my first time going out of the country. I was leaving everything behind for a week. I was going to be in place that was not part of my homeland.
A person who hailed from there would be called a Togolese. He would learn French instead of English in school. And do all his homework in this language, write letters in this language, have conversations in this language. Basically for a person born here, this language,french, would be how he’d relate with the world, as English is how I relate with the world. So if he were to see an attractive woman, he would express it as J’aime çette femme, or whatever (I was trying to say in French … I like this girl.) The more I thought about how his language would cause him to utter different sounds to express the way he felt, the more eager I became … wow the world that was awaiting. Isn’t language such a powerful thing, these words that we learn to utter and attach meaning to. A combination of the right words and perhaps the right body language could cause someone to share with you their soul. Hmm.
French girls! The French - they are the spark of West Africa, something we say. They seem to be more alive than the rest of us. Life is more vibrant for them. Now I was thinking about a pretty French girl, that I will meet and get to know. You know how I love conversations, I chuckle at the thought. Myriads of thoughts, a train of thoughts, a chain of thoughts, all sparked by an anticipation of what lies ahead. The drive was getting cozier. I started falling asleep. I didn’t want to.

I had left everything behind. Or not exactly - I had brought myself with me. The person that I am, the beliefs that I hold about life, my memories, my pain. This journey, as much as it was to discover a new place, was also to find a new place in my heart for relationships that had caused me pain. And the burden of the knowledge I carried with me about a great loss that was soon to come …
A part of me knew and accepted this truth, another part was in constant denial.

Julian said thanks.

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Samuel Alomenu

I write. I sketch. I mull over things and I think about alternatives. @sammidelali

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