Certain words will always linger. When I left Africa, I was speechless. Several tears spoke for me. I had only spent just shy of a month on the continent, but it was an extraordinarily defining experience that both affirmed and reformed me. Already missing the bounty of local food I had relished throughout my stay, the Twi words, “E dong bi ri bo” echoed in my mind as I boarded the plane, feeling an emptiness beyond their literal sense. Translated simply into English as, “there”s a bell in my stomach,” the proverbial meaning of my hunger – my want for the food, but more strikingly – metaphorically – for the people and the place, still resounds today.
As you walk through her peaceful gardens and adjoining forest land, the tourist tape plays a piece of her favourite music: Max Bruch’s hauntingly beautiful Violin Concerto. You can take your time; pause and watch the birds for whom this area is a sanctuary, or ponder the mysteries of life and death beside her grave. Here a simple stone bears a large but informal flower arrangement. The flowers have been taken from the gardens. It is the sort of arrangement she might have composed.