middle- class grind, filled with grande Americanos and вЂњluxuriesвЂќ taken for granted: clean drinking water, reliable electricity, high-speed internet, and smooth roadways. For emerging clarity far removed from my daily U.S. I ask, how much? вЂњFifteen cedisвЂ¦вЂќ I give him 25. I tell him that I wish I could bottle what I see here and take it back home to a world where 11-year-olds have become carjackers, where brothers gun down brothers in broad daylight over social media beefs.ДЄnd inasmuch as I reflect upon renewed calls for and interest in a вЂњBack-to-AfricaвЂќ movement, I cannot help but wonder whether it would be sufficient for us as a people in America to take back that human spirit and grounding born here in Mother Africa, which we as a people once held as gold. I explain that once upon a time as Black folks in America, we had more hardship than hope and that we now have more stuff but less substance. I tell him that GhanaiansвЂ™ fortitude, sense of community, respect for their fellow man, and their work ethic remind me of how вЂњweвЂќ used to be in America. I tell him that in all of the poverty, lack and hardship I see here, that I also see their true wealth. Not lost on me is his sense of integrity, honesty and willingness to give more than an honest dayвЂ™s work for an honest dayвЂ™s pay. His words are rinsed with frustration as he snakes through the crater-laden roadway in his four-door Toyota Vitz. Right now, he says, he simply canвЂ™t afford a wife. A handsome, affable fellow, he hopes to marry someday but realizes the limits in a world where attention to daily survival is a consumptive affair. With both parents deceased at an early age, he says he was raised by his then 70-year-old grandmother. Two young men at a wharf watch over the dayвЂ™s catch, cooking on a smokey grill.ДЄ young man is attentive to the task of grilling fish for sell at the market.ДЄ young man at grilling fish at a wharf in Greater Accra smiles.ДЇor some, like Isaac Acheampong, my recent 30-something-year-old Uber driver, the way to wages and a life beyond poverty is a daily, if not lifelong, uncertain grind. On a morning in Ghana, fishermen steer their boat back to shore.ДЄ street preacher in John FountainвЂ™s neighborhood in Ghana serenades the community early some mornings with songs and prayer.ДЄt a market near a fishermanвЂ™s wharf in Greater Accra, a woman sells grilled plantain. A quarter of this nationвЂ™s employed population earn less than 2,680 cedis, or $432 monthly. The average salary of a Ghanian ranges from 1,280 to 22,600 cedis a month (or roughly $206 to $3,645 U.S.), with 75% of Ghanaians earning 12,600 cedis ($2,032) or less a month, according to Salary Explorer. I see it in the eyes of taxi drivers, in the faces of women - and men- at innumerable makeshift shops of tin and wood that line roadways and are an economic lifeline. I see it in the eyes of sturdy Black women who elegantly carry their wares in baskets atop their heads and dispense them to buyers in burgeoning traffic with the ease of a Vegas card dealer. Hardship - devoid of a social safety net -which requires self-reliance and sweat equity, for a return that is often beneath subsistence. I see poverty here, though only in substance. As a resident rather than tourist, even if my visa is time-stamped and my departure from this land set. And my American eyes, though having laid sight on Ghana before, see her more intimately now. In-depth political coverage, sports analysis, entertainment reviews and cultural commentary.Д¬ontext is everything.

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