Bless This Mess

Men yell directions in tongues I don’t know
While the women sell the world on their head
The children could be unhappy without fancy toys
But they fashion their own instead

White World Vision trucks drive past
Clean and shimmering in the light
Nearby a rusting lorry carcass
Provides a contrasting sight

“Nansaalah!” screams a nearby child
As I smile through water sachet
Goats fight atop a nearby mound
Each hoping to rule the day

The scent of eggs frying two stalls down
Reminds that I still need to eat
Meanwhile the kids playing football
Forget they have only bare feet

Ahead the women are pounding fufu
Sleeping babies slung to their backs
Open-palmed beggars stumble forward
Pleading for what they lack

A young man seats himself down beside
And invites to join in his feast
I’m left to ponder over roasted nuts
How the most generous have the least

Across is an entrepreneurial boy
On whose scale we can each weigh
He records the results on pieces of scrap
And asks a small fee to pay

In the distance the mosque calls for prayers
While “Matthew 10:12” drives by
Past open sewers and broken buildings
A sunset graces the sky

And as darkness descends on the town
The chaos still functions nearby
I’m left to lie back on the wooden bench
And breathe a contented sigh

For all the insanity this land brings
There’s an eternal calm with the pride
Provided that in your football match
The second goal is not offside

Regardless of how it may have seemed
Four months is simply too short
To enjoy a land so peaceful and free
And completely obsessed with a sport

Soon I will leave this life behind
Board the plane for the Promised Land
And hope to myself on the long flights back
That the projects are going as planned

But no matter how hard this has all seemed
The challenge is in my return
To cope with the lifestyle I’ve always lived
The society that needs to learn

Forever holding a piece of my heart
This place is so quiet and blessed
A hell of a summer I’ll never forget
Ghana; bless this mess