It was roughly a 2-hour drive from Accra to Ghallywood-Dawa, a small farming village situated between the city of Tema and Aflao. We left at daybreak to avoid the morning traffic and arrive in good time. My eyes still burning with sleep, we loaded our suitcases and gifts for the kids into the car and began our commute.   The journey felt long and sobering. I hadn’t been on a trip like this in a while and wondered what to expect on arrival. I’m not sure if it was the heartfelt stories I’d heard about some of the kids and how they came to be at the home, or the fact that I’d be staying there alone over the next few nights, or the thought of meeting Aunty Ellen – the incredible visionary behind it all. But whatever it was, definitely had my tummy in a twist.

As soon as we pulled through the gates, the pitter-patter sounds of little feet grew louder as the children ran over and surrounded the car. Their little faces pressed against the windows and with enormous grins and waving hands, they shouted “akwaaba!” (translated to mean ‘welcome’ in Twi, a native language spoken in Ghana).  I took it all in and with a deep breath, stepped out of the car.

There are two things I know to be true about children – from the ones I’ve been fortunate enough to meet around the world. The first is, they are resilient little humans. Children can undergo hardships – that would cause some adults to give up – and still find it in their hearts to trust a stranger with a smile.  I found this to be true of the children at Shekinah Home, as they instantly rushed towards me, grabbing at my legs for hugs. It was heart-warming to say the least.  

The second thing is, no matter where they are from, all children speak the universal language of play – a language I’ll admit I’m very fluent in. Though I didn’t understand much of what was being said to me, as most of the children didn’t speak English, we connected intrinsically through the games, songs and dances we taught each other over the few days I was there.

The visionary behind Shekinah Home is Aunty Ellen. What struck me the most about Aunty Ellen was her bold faith, radiant humility, and genuine love for the children she cared for. Originally from Ghana (but based in the United Kingdom), Aunty Ellen was appalled and shocked by the state of child homelessness in the country. She described how upsetting it was that not enough was being done to improve the plight of homeless children in Ghana.  Moved to help in whatever way she could, she boldly decided to do something about it in 2000, after a holiday visit to Ghana. Armed with nothing but faith and a burning desire to make a difference in the lives of these children, Aunty Ellen rented a three-bedroom house in Tema. There, she set up a safe space for the children she found on the streets and the ones she looked after when their parents were at work. She rented the house until 2011, when the building of Shekinah Home would commence as part of the non-profit The Light Outreach.

Aunty Ellen is not a woman who pretends to know it all. She is a woman who simply saw a need and decided to do something about it. Through her partnership with Matthew, a full-time missionary and founder of Feed the Generation International Ministries (FTG),and a handful of volunteers who work with her at the home, she provides safety, stability and education for the children who would otherwise be forgotten.

There’s still a lot of work to be done at the home. The home desperately needs more bedrooms and shower rooms for the growing number of children housed in the orphanage. The volunteers need more rooms to carry out their work effectively. The chapel awaits completion and many other building projects in the home are pending due to a lack of funds.

As Aunty Ellen discussed her vision for the home, she and Matthew showed me around the different spaces, detailing their plans and hopes for the future. What grabbed my attention was their plan for a skills development centre. It set the orphanage apart -from any other that I’d been to or heard of before. It was clear that Shekinah Home wasn’t created to just be a holding space for children until they reached adulthood at 18, rather, a place they could grow and flourish at all ages and stages of their young lives.

As Matthew so soundly put it, “we want every child to achieve something, not just to come and go back the same”.

We stood outside in the open air – in the space that would eventually become the skills development centre; surrounded by nothing but bricks and cement. As Aunty Ellen talked us through her vision, I found it easy to mentally piece together what the skills centre would eventually look like. I could imagine it clearly. I could see the sewing stations to my left where the young tailors in training would absorb the skills they needed to create their garments. I could see the concentration in their faces as they created their masterpieces. I could also see the hairdressing section on the far right, as Aunty Ellen detailed that it would be a space where the young adults would practice braiding, styling and washing. I could envision it all.

Matthew then took us to the allotment and explained how his non-profit, FTG, had partnered with the home (circa 2020) to help them develop a self-sustainable approach to food production. I marvelled at this ingenious concept, as it provides an eco-friendly and sustainable option to food production, therefore allowing any monetary donations received to be redirected towards other pressing needs. The children are very much involved in the entire process as they help grow and harvest their own food, such as coco yams, okra, carrots, onions and peppers to name a few – which is later made into yummy deliciousness by the kitchen staff.

As I drew to the end of my stay, I came to realise that Shekinah Home is not only a space for learning, growing and safety but second chances too. It served as a daily reminder to the children that they are loved, valued, and worthy. I took the experience as a personal invitation to be part of their journey. To be a stranger they could trust again from a distance.

My heart-warming experience at Shekinah Home inspired me to write this blog, as a way of doing something to help them realise their vision and complete the building of their home. I want to extend this invitation to you too and give you an opportunity to be part of this amazing vision.

My ask is that you would support the Shekinah Home project by contributing whatever you can, to help these incredible children. No contribution is too small or too big – as anything will go a long way in changing and impacting their lives for the better.

If you would like to be part of this life-changing project, kindly follow the link to make a donation. 

When people ask me where my most favourite place was in my two and a half months away, although it’s a pretty tough question, I have to admit my mind automatically finds itself wandering down the colourful streets of Havana. Cuba has certainly engraved itself onto my heart and is definitely a place I would recommend to anyone thinking of holidaying in, or around, Latin America.

My first stop was Havana, where I stayed for five days. Havana was exactly how I imagined it to be and just like I’ve seen in the movies. People smoke the cigars and drive the old cars. They observe you from their balconies as you walk their graffitied neighbourhoods, causing you to become fully aware of your foreignness as you pass. They hang their washing out to soak up that Caribbean sun, and yes, almost every restaurant or cocktail bar has a live band where people Salsa and Son between mojitos. Cuba was constantly bubbling with life and culture and this is exactly why I fell in love with it.  

 Upon arrival to Havana, I met a girl and guy at the airport who, by the size of their backpacks, looked as though they were also doing a long stretch of travelling. I befriended them and found out that they had just arrived in Cuba and were on the first day of an eight-month gap year (Katy) and 10-day surfing holiday (Johannas). We shared a taxi into Old Town and decided to swap numbers and meet up over the next few days. Katy was from the UK and it was also the sense of now or never that had given her the push she needed to fly out and meet her friend, also in South America, who was currently doing a year of backpacking. Johannas, on the other hand, was lucky enough to be put on garden leave after leaving London to transition to another job back in his home town, Germany. We all connected on the ‘if not now, then when’, and our taxi conversation really reminded me of just how fortunate I was to be one of the many brave wanderlusters embarking on this trip of a lifetime.

Over the next few days, I hung out mainly with Johannas as we were staying fairly close to each other in town. We wandered into a few markets in Old Town and tried a few café’s in search of mojitos and ropa vieja, the national dish of Cuba consisting of beans and shredded meat. Ropa Vieja literally translates to ‘old clothes’ and legend has it that a poor man once shredded and cooked his clothes because he did not have enough money to feed his family. As the mixture bubbled away, he prayed, and by miracle the concoction turned into a tasty meat stew that he was able to feed his family with. Aside from actually not liking much of the food in Cuba (let me just put it out there that the rumours are true, Cuba is NOT a culinary destination!) I can attest that this particular dish was just all round yummy!

Next up was a tour in a Chevrolet. I mean you can’t go all the way to Cuba and not ride a vintage car. And boy was it something. I decided to go for the brightest, shiniest, hot pink Chevrolet and my driver Horece made it his duty to ensure everyone knew there was a new girl in town as he tooted his horn every chance he got. It was a one hour tour that covered the main sites of Havana. We drove along the Malacon; the famous seawall that serves as a border between Havana and the Caribbean sea where couples are known to rendezvous after sunset.

We then visited the Partagás Cigar Factory where I was able to stop and receive a quick history on what actually makes a Cuban cigar so reputable. Although I am a non-smoker, I have always been curious to know what the hype was around these infamous cigars and it was very fascinating to learn that there actually were a few distinctive factors that put Cuban cigars head and shoulders above all the others. The first was due to Cuba being so well located in the Caribbean. Its humidity, warm climate and consistency of rainfall creates the perfect environment to make the tobacco so unique to Cuba and in a way that no other nation can replicate. Like grapes that takes on the flavours of the soil it’s grown in to produce wines specific to that region, Cuban tobacco takes in the richness of the Cuban soil. So only Cuban tobacco can give a Cuban cigar its unique Cuban taste. You are quite literally inhaling the richness of Cuba! The second thing I learnt was that Cuba is also unique in the fact that it produces all three tobacco leaves that is used to make the cigar – the filler, the wrapper and the binder – whereas other nations likely have to import at least one. Because of this, Cuban cigar makers are able to control the composition, flavour and texture of their cigar more easily when crafting it.

They lady who gave the talk allowed me to have a puff of a carefully cut Cohiba, the most esteemed cigar in Cuba. As soon as I put my lips on its casing, the bitterness hit me. I figured this would probably be a great time for a photo but noticing that everyone in the shop was now looking at me, probably wishing I would hurry up and get on with it so that they can have their talk, I drew inwards, a little too quickly. The heavy smoke filled my mouth and instantly hit the back of my throat causing my eyes to water and me to cough embarrassingly. ‘Welcome to the club’, my driver Horece said with a laugh as he patted my back. It tasted earthy and strong and felt like inhaling… well, smoke I guess.  It kind of reminded me of coffee, which I also don’t consume. That dark and heavy, rich, yet warm taste. Smokey but at the same time smooth.

I bought a few Cohiba’s… as souvenirs, of course. And one for Horeece, who was ever so grateful for the gesture. He kindly asked if I wouldn’t mind him smoking it in the car which I didn’t. He had no idea that for the next leg of our Chevrolet tour he indulged my cigar smoking, Chevrolet riding Cuban fantasy.  Next stop, Revolution Square.

One of the landmarks of the Cuban revolution, this plaza has been the site for most of Cuba’s political and social events. Although there wasn’t much to actually do here, my imagination couldn’t help but take me back to when Fidel would give his iconic speeches to the people of Cuba – his longest being apparently eight hours long. Surrounded by government buildings with the sculptures of Che Guevara and Camilio Cienfuegos on their front, this square is merely a pit stop for pictures and a bit of history if you are lucky to have a driver who knows enough to fill you in.

But of course, nothing beats the Cuban nightlife and Katy and a few girls from her hostel dolled up and we all went out dancing. It was funny how the men just assumed we were all well versed in salsa and would confidently grab our hands and lead us to the dance floor. A few of the girls resisted but Katy and I were very much about it. I explained to each dance partner that I was a beginner, ‘muy muy suave por favor’ (I was told to say this which translates as very, very soft) and each time they would smile, nod but then proceed to swing me around like one of the professionals on strictly come dancing. Definitely comical for all those around me, but I gave it my best shot. To be honest salsa was my driving force behind coming to Cuba, and you can find out all about my dance experience in my To Cuba is to Salsa post.

Havana certainly had its frustrating moments, aside from the food not being great as mentioned, there was the issue of no internet. Having to buy a one hour phone cards en mass and then hunt down a hotel that had WiFi to support the use of that card became a mission and I quickly learnt that planning ahead before arrival or winging it once here was the best way to approach Cuba.

So, would you enjoy this beauty as a travel destination? You can bet your bottoms dollar you would. Be sure to get your tourist card in advance and take anything other than dollars to convert your money when you touch down (USD has an additional conversion fee of 10%). Oh, and make sure to spend your CUPs (Cuban currency) on souvenirs – or mojitos! – as you are not allowed to take the currency out of the country with you when you leave! And lastly, if someone approaches you to dance whether out at breakfast, whilst passing a bar on a side street or out for drinks in the evening, don’t be shy to get involved, it’s all part of the Cuban experience

Watch my Cuba video highlights as I journey through Havana, Santiago de Cuba and Baracoa.

At 8:00am on the dot we set off. Our tour guide, Andrew, took his place at the front, I followed closely behind, and the three other men fell in line behind me. The first quarter of the hike was the flattest and the muddiest. We made our way through the National Park, engulfed by the lush density of the forest, as we pushed along the half-covered trail. I used the walking stick I was given by Andrew to push the grass out the way best I could, but he paced ahead so quickly that it caused the plants between us to backlash into my bruised legs causing me immense pain. As much as I wanted to ask for our first break, I decided I didn’t want to be the one to slow the momentum – especially as we were only ten minutes in lol – so I kept it moving. The soil was soggy and thick and many times we had to step off the path and into the bushes in order to not get our feet stuck in the mud -though for some reason I kept missing my step and kept falling into the mud! I took the opportunity to get to know the guys I was hiking with and found out that the guy immediately behind me, Sammy, was also from London and here on a two-week trip to the Caribbean. The two men behind him, Leonard and Del, lived in Antigua and were here on a family trip. They were all very encouraging and cheered me on the whole way, which really added to my strength.

About twenty minutes into the first quarter, we began the incline. This is where things really started to heat up. If there is one thing that really tests me on a hike (and if I’m honest, life) it’s steps – and there were loads of them. And no, no, I’m not talking about ordered steps that are equal in height and size, I mean uneven, sometimes missing, and at times wobbly wooden blocks or tree stumps that’d been squished into the mud as part of the trail. Some of the steps were so steep that I had to be lifted up onto them by Andrew. The incline really took the wind out of me and after about five minutes of climbing, I was begging for a rest. Andrew informed us that we were still only into the first quarter and it was at this point that I knew I was in for a serious ride. At times the trail narrowed so much that we literally had to shimmy our way across the edge of a cliff, conscious that simply placing a foot in the wrong place could cause us to fall to the bottom of the mountain. And at other times we had to climb rocks and boulders, swing on ropes and cross open streams.

About an hour and a half in, we made it to the highest point (3,168ft) and what a breath-taking view it was. The top of the mountain gave us a 360 birds-eye view of the whole Island. To the East we could see Roseau, Dominica’s capital and town I was staying in, and right ahead of us was the three peaks and other surrounding mountains. The air was chilled and fresh, I inhaled and took it all in before one of the guys made the call to wrap it up and keep moving as we were doing well for time and so didn’t want to slow down too much.

On the way down the forest became denser, the trail became steeper and the hike got even harder. It rained as we made our way into the Valley of Desolation which made the sulphuric fumes smell even worse. The rotten egg stench filled our noses as we crossed through the open space. Though it stunk, the backdrop was so spectacular that my eyes could barely take it all in with my eyeballs let alone let alone my camera lens. A picture just couldn’t capture it well enough to do it any justice. So I just marvelled.

It rained then blazed with heat then rained some more.

A little further and we were at the boiling Lake. It was not what I expected at all – it was so much better. We climbed through the rocks and came face to face with the 200 by 250ft bubbling cauldron. As if we were even allowed to be this close!! We stood about 10 meters from the drop and I could already feel the hairs on my arms shrivel up. They really don’t call this the boiling lake for nothing. The 197° Fahrenheit cauldron was in constant bubble-ation! Apparently, if the bubbles were to ever stop then it’s time to leave town as it’s an indication that the volcano is about to go off.

Our tour guide was clearly nervous as to how close I was standing, so after telling me for the third time to move back, he began recalling stories he had heard of people falling in and being cooked alive. I backed it right up. We marvelled, took pictures, ate our lunch and then readied ourselves to head back.

In my ignorance, I assumed the way back down would be much easier than the way up as that tends to be the case with many journeys. It wasn’t, though we did make it down a lot quicker. I struggled with coming down particularly because my knees felt quite strained going down the steps, and the steps were so steep that having to bend that far down to climb them certainly wasn’t doing anything for my speed. It got very tricky and it felt like my lungs were struggling to find balance. At certain points I was so out of breath that the tour guide made the call to pause a few times on my behalf in order to help me regulate my breathing again. I managed to pull it together, but only for about 10 minutes at a time before needing to stop again. Like, I said, I was really feeling the pressure now. But the show had to go on. Over the rocks, back across the narrow cliff and through the streams we went, back along the trail which we initially came. Eventually we made it.

As I mentioned, the average time for this hike is 6 hours – 3 hours up and 3 hours down. My group and I completed the hike in 4 hours and 41 minutes; 3 hours and 15 up and 1 hour 26 down. We were definitely pleased with ourselves to say the least.

If you are big on hiking, I would definitely throw this on your bucket list as the sense of satisfaction as well as the incredible views along the way really do make it worthwhile. Not to mention of course, the bubbling reward at the end! Definitely a highlight of Dominica, the Boiling Lake is not something to be taken lightly.

I’d rate this hike a solid 8/10 for difficulty and 10/10 for overall experience.

I’m sat on flight 1188, having left Dusseldorf an hour and a half late, due to a cabin crew member having a car accident on the way in to work today, and I am smiling on the inside. Not at the accident, of course, but at the fact that for years and years I’d said to myself that one day I would do this and I’m actually finally doing it. I remember years ago when my sister and some friends came back from their 6-week trek to South America full of stories and adventure and I just thought wow, one day that will be me. Of course, we are very different ages, as she was a lot younger then, but in my opinion, as long as there is still life in your bones and breath in your body it is never too late to fulfil a dream.

So here I am on this turbulent plane (secretly praying I make it across the Atlantic!) alone in my aisle and feeling reflective. On my way to the airport my dad, after giving me a quick harrowing synopsis of the movie ‘Taken’ whilst emphasising the importance of having my wits about me, confronted me with a question that made me pause.

“So, what made you decide to do this then?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I answered which I’m sure to him came across as hesitation and as though I had no real idea as to what I was doing with my life (and I’m sure it probably looks that way to many others!) But the reality is, I took the pause because sometimes it’s hard to explain to people a process that makes so much sense in your heart but when said out aloud sounds like you’ve lost the plot. I mean there’s a reason and a plan for this trip, of course there is, but to find the words to express the vision you have on the inside is sometimes a struggle.

So what did I say? I explained to him that first and foremost I loved to travel and that as opposed to just taking another holiday, this time, I wanted to fully immerse myself in the culture of the places I visited and really step up in my sense of adventure. It was time to get my brave on. I fleshed out my answer by explaining further that at the beginning of the year I wrote a list of all the things I loved doing – dancing, salsa, hiking, being outdoors, carnival, eating, lazing around on a beach – and I matched up different countries against this list. Most of the countries landed in the Caribbean and South America, so I decided to focus on that region of the world and turn it into the trip of a lifetime; the trip I had been putting off for so long. I told my dad I loved adventure and that this trip would give me that. I explained that I would start off in Cuba where I had enrolled on a Salsa Dance package at a school in Santiago de Cuba and be given classes led by professionals over the course of two weeks. I would then travel across to Barbados to meet my friend Brittany and be part of the 2019 Crop Over carnival before jetting off with her to a luxurious 5* all-inclusive resort in St. Lucia for some relaxation (I know right). Once I’ve had my beach fix, I’d then say bye to Brittany and fly over to South America where I’d travel across Peru and Bolivia for a month as part of another tour package; camping in the Amazon rainforest, visiting the Salt Flats, hiking the Inca Trail and staying with the locals in Lake Titicaca amongst other things.

I waited for his response. “Oh. Ok”, he said without so much as taking his eyes off the road. And that was that. Ha!

One thing I did say, and a factor that I think is probably the most important in all of this, was timing. Why now?

To be honest, I don’t think there has been a better time in my life for me to do something like this. I am at a mature age where I have my wits about me and can really appreciate this trip as something more than just a thing one does on a gap year. I can financially support the trip without having to rely on anyone, and can sustain my means for a while when I get back if I am unable to get a job straight away. I live alone. I have no dependants or long-term partner that I have to take into account. And, as if that wasn’t enough reason, the role I was in at work was a maternity cover and the lady confirmed she was definitely coming back so the company were unable to keep me. I mean if that is not a sign, then I don’t know what is. As devastating as it was at the time, it presented me with opportunity and gave me the push I needed to get planning. Like I said, if there was ever a time to do this it’s now, and I am definitely saying yes to life.

So, what am I expecting? I mean it would be silly to go away on a trip like this and have no expectations and we all know I am a bit extra (lol) so, I will admit, my expectations are high. Very high. I mean come on, a lot of time, planning and money has gone into this so I’m expecting big things. I want this trip to be life-changing. I want it to shape and mould me into the person life needs me to be. I want to get my courage back and get my brave on. I want to challenge myself and grow in ways I never imagined was possible. I want to make new friends, try new experiences and create new memories. I want to get better at the things I love and be open to new opportunities. I want to re-connect with myself.

I think sometimes we become attached to the idea that somewhere in our future there is a landing spot.  A place we need to strive for in order to feel like we have ‘made it’. But the reality is there is no “when I just get to here then…”, or “when I finally have this then…”. Life is just life, it’s ever moving. And when we become fixated on that landing spot we set ourselves up as we get so caught up on that thing we so badly want that we fail to enjoy the journey and sometimes miss the blessings and opportunities along the way. The reality is there is no ‘one aim’ because life is full of wonder. And think about it, you work hard to reach that one goal, then what? Life doesn’t stop. No, it carries on.

Another major perspective shift I’ve had recently is on the “should’s”. I no longer live by The Curse of The Should’s (blog post on this coming soon!) If there is one thing that irks me as a 30-year-old young lady, it’s the should’s. Now that you are 30 you should be thinking of settling down and getting married; now that you are 30 you should start having babies as your biological clock is ticking; now that you are 30 you should think about taking out a mortgage and buying a house. Oh, I could go on.

All long. All pressure. All opinions from people who are not walking my path and it’s amazing how people can have such strong opinions on your life, eh. But what I feel is worse is the way the should mentality in fact ends up keeping some people trapped in a life that they often go on to later resent.  Trying to fit the mould and keep up with the Joneses gets us nowhere. It limits our creativity and keeps us stuck in situations we know deep down we don’t want to be in. We eventually get used to slapping on that fake daily smile, pretending we are OK, and pushing through in the rat race.

And is it really worth it?

I guess that’s a question for each of us to answer individually. But for me, no thanks. I am not intimidated by the should’s and much prefer to do my best to create the life I want to live. After all, if any of that was meant to be for me at 30 I would have it. I trust God’s plan for my life so for now I’ll just keep moving forward doing the things I love and enjoy and trust that when the time is right, those other things will find me because, don’t get me wrong, I do want them… just not by force. And please understand that I am in no way saying it’s wrong to have a life plan that looks like that, or to want any of that by a certain age. As long as it comes out of your own personal desire and not the pressure of external sources then by all means go for it. At the end of the day life is something we all have to journey through and we will all be accountable in the end for what we did with it. 

Life is short and there is no time like the present to live it how you want.

So, with that said. Cuba, here I come. I’m trusting my journey, believing this is the right time and expectant that great things are going to come from this adventure of a lifetime. I hope this encourages you to think of a place in your life where you can also take a leap of faith? What “should” can you let go of or break off your life? What are your expectations for the season you are currently in?

Have a think. Who knows, you may just realise that in some areas of your life it’s time for a change of thinking.