The Turf, The Village

"West Africa or West Coast, every village has its own way of life."

By Dru Harshaw

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Youth Radio's Dru Harshaw recently spent two weeks in the West African country of Ghana. The trip was his first time ever leaving the United States. It took being half a world away to finally understand why home is home.

I spent five days at a cultural center on the edge of the Dogbe village in the Volta region of southern Ghana. The most memorable part of the whole trip was the village Easter celebration...decadent costumes, a crowd of over 100 heads, and little children dancing in the background as if they were part of the action.

I was absorbing so many different cultures and ways of life. I began to notice a trend in my sleeping habits: every time I closed my eyes I had dreams of Oakland and visions of my home: childhood mischief, attractive women, even street signs. This confused me. With the beauty of Ghana right in front of me, why was my mind back home?

I brought my question to Kobe, the village drum maker. Kobe was a well-spoken, muscular man, who had performed a ritual dance at the Easter celebration which involved him applying a flaming stick to his bare skin. Afterwards when I asked how he did it, he replied with a wide smile, “mind over matter.”

He struck me as one of those deep-thinker, heavy-outlook-on-life types; so I thought he’d be a good person to ask about my dreams. He said dreams are only 3 to 5 second visions that register in a person’s subconscious. Then he dropped the knowledge that people only remember the dreams that affect them emotionally.

I asked Kobe why all of my dreams in Ghana were about Oakland. He simply said, “point of reference." He explained how in Ghana, many students and workers make a living far away from their home villages. But their memories of home stay with them. So, when they return to the village, they can truly be at home.

Everything clicked. That was the purpose of my trip – to understand my point of reference. Oakland is my village. I know, I know, Oakland isn’t a village per say, but it works the same manner. Instead of drums echoing through out our residences, there are cars that beat down the block as if there were a pack of wild gorillas in the trunk.

And you probably won’t find the beautiful color schemes of kente cloth in Oakland, but you will find my boys coordinating authentic sports jerseys with their high tops. And of course, instead of claiming a tribe; we claim a side, a turf, and a block as our heritage, culture, and home. It’s all relative. West Africa or West Coast, every village has its own way of life.

No matter where my mission might take me, I know that my village will be there for me.