It rained yesterday and all I could do was pray.
59 years after independence and the sight of the rain brings fear to my heart.
Fear of being caught in the rain again.
Fear of desperately trying to get a taxi.
Fear of seeing the level of water rise and wondering if this is how I'm going to die.
It has been almost a year since that day.
I did not die, but many people did.
My friend's uncle who was working to provide medicine to Ghanaians lost his life, because it rained.
The white man did this to us.
Colonialism did this to us.
Africa is the cradle of civilization.
America and Europe were built on our backs.
The white man did not cause yesterday's flood, we did.
Colonialism did not embed greed into us, we did.
The white man did not force this norm of mediocrity down our throats, we did.
I heard on JoyFM this morning that the government bribes us when it suddenly realizes that it should fix our roads, bring us electricity, and provide our basic electricity because elections are around the corner.
There was a time I looked forward to the rain. I would wait under the mango tree, taste the dust as it drizzled, and watch mangoes fall from the big tree. I would pull out the front of my skirt and fill it with as many mangoes as I could carry.
Yesterday's rain reminded me of the flood that destroyed my seamstress' home and stole the life of my friend's uncle.
It rained yesterday and all I could do was pray:
Pray that my seamstress and her children were safe
Pray that no one would die
Pray that these floods don't wash away my faith in Africa.
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