PlI do not remember much about my childhood. That is normal, I think, for a five year old girl who moved to a brand new country, with brand new people, brand new seasons, brand new foods and brand new sights. I never thought I would ever leave my home country. Actually, I never knew I was in a town let alone a country. So imagine my surprise when my mother told me we would be going to a new country!

When an Obronii (white) man came to our town, I was fascinated with him. That was when I learned there were other places besides where I grew up. Now remember, I was five years old, almost everything fascinated me and I was a curious little girl. He seemed so very nice, with his crisp clothes and cool, cool glasses ( I didn’t realize that meant he was kind of blind ). When he came, our whole world changed. Well my world and my mother’s world and everyone else who knew us. He pronounced words differently and spoke fast. Wait, before I go any further, do not think we were primitive people. We may not have been completely modern quite yet, but we were in no way primitive. We did not live in huts or with lions and tigers and bears, Oh My! We lived in houses and lived safely and lived together happily. Ghana was once under British rule so we pronounced our words “properly” and he would sort of slur his words. Instead of saying wota, pronouncing the a like the (oo)in wool, he said water making the (t) a (d) and pronouncing the (r) looong. It was like that with the word cucumber. We said kookoomba and he said qukumber. What a difference! I remember I would spend a lot of time with him after school and in the store where my mother worked.

Later I found out he and my mother were getting married! I was so excited. It turned out the reason he kept going into the store was because he liked my mom. After the wedding, which was very beautiful, we started with our preparation to move to a different country. We got shots and A LOT of paperwork. All just to be able to get a visa. My mother told me that when it came time for me to get my shot, it took about three people to hold me down so I could get it. I guess I was a pretty strong five year old. I mean think about it, for a five year old it can be very scary to have someone coming towards you with a needle and syringe. After that terrifying moment, we packed our bags and got plane tickets for the adventure of my life. The departure was a sad one. We were leaving our friends and family behind and we wouldn’t see them for another 11 years but that is another story altogether. We cried and hugged and kissed and loved, then we boarded the plane and took off. The plane ride was exhilarating! It was on our first time on an airplane and it was amazing. My mother was scared. She sat in her seat tight and tense. She would tell me to stay seated and keep my seatbelt on but I did not want to. I felt like I was flying like a bird. I could see the clouds and almost feel their fluffy and misty wisps. I felt like I was floating on air! Thousands of feet in the air and not falling but flying. It was better than anything I could have ever imagined. I would get up frequently to use the bathroom, not because I had to go, but because I loved the feeling of walking in the plane. Walking on solid ground but in the air. A five year old’s dream come true. I remember imagining I could see the birds in the sky and they were my friends. Talking to them in my head and feeling at home. I fell asleep a few times because of how comfortable I was. I don’t think my mother slept much. When we landed after a twelve hour flight, it was daylight and the sun was shining brightly. The man was there waiting to pick us up and take us home. I felt like a princess who had just arrived in a foreign country. I looked like one, too. In a cute little cream and green dress with a balloon tied to my wrist and a small purse on my arm and white heels with tallish white, lacy socks, kind of like Shirley Temple when I think about it. We went home and our life began anew.

When we arrived it was August. Summer was nearing its end. The weather was much like it was in Ghana so I was not expecting anything new. As the days went by, though, the weather got cooler. I still didn’t think much of it because it would get cool sometimes in Ghana, especially during the rainy season. I started preschool and started making new friends. I had a very strong accent and was quite tall for my age, so at first I did not fit in. I loved my first school though. It was a wonderful experience. Different colors and activities. Different people and cultures and definitely different attitudes. In Ghana, we couldn’t talk back to the teachers and always had to be respectful, but here it did not seem like that at all. We wore uniforms to school in Ghana but here we could wear whatever we wanted. In America, we had a theater with costumes and music and acting. I LOVED it. I remember we would make magnets. The teacher would have us draw pictures that we wanted and then she would take them and when we got them back they were on magnets. How did she do that? I would always wonder. It seemed like magic. My first experience in school was amazing and fascinating. I still have a friend I occasionally talk to from there. Amelia is her name. We became best friends because of that school, but that slowly came to an end when we moved away a few years later.

I remember my first birthday party in America. Princess outfits and friends spending the night. It was like a fairytale. There were beautiful decorations and beautiful people who brought beautiful gifts and beautiful smiles. There was cake and juice and dancing and singing. Another dream come true. You would think October wasn’t a good time to have a birthday, but it was amazing, especially with Halloween around the corner. I dressed as an Indian princess for that. I got many compliments and felt like a real princess again.

After Halloween, it really started getting cold and since I was from a tropical place, I was starting to be chilled to the bone. The days grew shorter and the nights grew longer and the air grew crisp. One morning, I woke up and started to get ready for my day at home. I got up, went to the bathroom, and got ready. As I was passing the window on the stairs, ready to go down,I froze. I stared out the window and could not believe what I was seeing. It was a mesmerizing sight. There were white crystals falling from the sky! The ground was covered in clouds! It was like something out of a fairytale story. The light shone through the crystals and that, in turn, created small rainbows in the sky. It was bright, it was white, it was magnificent! What a sight! What a feeling! I ran down the stairs and out the door. I was wearing a skirt and a short sleeved shirt and completely disregarded the cold. I started dancing and it seemed the crystals were dancing with me. I kicked the clouds on the ground and picked them up and threw them in the air. I twirled and whirled until I was so dizzy I fell down. The crystals turned out to me soft not hard and they melted right when they touched my skin. This surprised me tremendously. Suddenly I started feeling quite cold. Not a surprise since I was stand in the middle of a snow storm. I ran back inside and went straight to my parents’ room to wake them up. They were actually awake so there was no need to jump on their bed but I did anyway. As I was telling them of what I had encountered, the man told me I should change out of my clothes and into pants and long sleeves and put on a jacket and gloves so we could go back outside again. He called it a Winter Wonderland. It was truly a wonder. We lived half way in the woods and half way in civilization so we were pretty much surrounded by trees and every single tree was covered in tiny flecks of magic. Fairy dust as I later called it to myself. It was a magical moment. One I will not soon forget. My first snow. My first snow. My first snow. My first moment of feeling as if I were transported to a plane where there was just me and peace and a place where anything could happen.