My first week in Ghana was more than a relocation—it was a spiritual awakening.
Consider the children of Israel, marching through the Red Sea, trying to escape Pharaoh, yet also trying to reach the other side before the waters closed in on them. Egypt had once given them the time of their lives—the food, the fruitfulness, the abundance. It was a land of prestige and provision, not unlike what many of us experience in the West today.
But Egypt never stopped being what it truly was: a land of bondage for the people of God.
What began as a place of safety and luxury eventually became a place of hardship and oppression. And deep within, the people knew—it was time to leave.
For me, Canada was a kind of Egypt. The food was excellent. The roads were world-class. The standard of living was high. But spiritually, I was living in Babylon. As the Psalmist asked, “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” (Psalm 137:4)
Over time, the spiritual oppression became unbearable. The satanic agenda, the erosion of truth, the inversion of justice, and the erasure of God from public life—it was too much for a son of Zion to bear.
Leaving wasn’t just a choice. It was a calling.
✨ Out of Babylon: A Spirit Set Free
In Babylon, I was living an empty life. I couldn’t be the son of the I Am I was meant to be.
But as I ventured across the Atlantic, I felt something shift—a release from the grip of the Western world. If you’ve ever lived in the West, you’ll understand what I mean: a quiet, constant oppression on the mind. Everything on the surface looks beautiful—well-arranged meals, polished systems, pristine roads—but beneath it all is a deep unnaturalness. A spiritual numbness. A life out of sync with God’s rhythm.
When I entered Ghana, the contrast hit me again. The roads were rough and the development was modest. The systems weren’t as smooth. But the most important thing was in place:
Peace. Presence. Purpose.
There’s a quiet power in the way the Ghanaian community lives. The rhythm of life here doesn’t just move—it heals. And perhaps what struck me most was the burden that lifted the moment I arrived. In the West, I was constantly under pressure—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I now believe it was a form of spiritual oppression.
But in Ghana? I felt nothing like that. Every day felt like simply living.
I’d wake up to the sound of nature: the birds singing, the goats rustling, the roosters crowing, and the wind whistling like it was calling the name of God.
And I knew… I was home.
First Week In Ghana: The Best Advice For A Smooth Start
✨ 5 Spiritual Lessons for the Diaspora From My First Week in Ghana
With all this said, here are the 5 most spiritual lessons I learned during my first week in Ghana.
If you’re in the diaspora and you’re feeling oppressed—maybe it’s time to pay a visit. Maybe your soul is crying out for something your environment can’t give.
But if you’re comfortable, maybe Babylon is working for you. If that’s the case, stay. Because coming home isn’t for everyone.
Returning to Africa is for the called.
For those who can no longer sing the Lord’s song in a strange land.
For those who are ready to walk out of captivity and return to God.
Not just geographically—but spiritually, emotionally, and prophetically.
This is more than a move. This is an awakening.
1. The Spirit of Community Is Loud in My First Week in Ghana
In my former years in Jamaica, I remember the free spirit of community. My job took me all over the island, and one thing I always looked forward to was meeting new people and connecting in the spirit of unity.
But when I moved to Canada, it was different. The connection was lost—or at least, I thought I had lost it.
Then I returned to Ghana, and I found that connection still alive.
In Ghana, I didn’t feel like a stranger. People were generally friendly and willing to have a conversation. People greeted me like they already knew me. Community here isn’t just a word—it’s a lifestyle. You don’t have to fight to belong. You just do.
Whether I was in a taxi, at the market, or walking down the road, someone always acknowledged me. Always. The spirit of community is loud—not in volume, but in love.
You feel it. In the West, I was invisible. Here, I am seen.
2. God Heals Through Rhythm
Most people in the West hardly have time for themselves—much less for their families. I remember my first month after moving there. That’s when my brokenness started. The constant “on the go” life was nothing like what I knew in Jamaica. A slow, grounded rhythm turned into full-blown chaos.
But in my first week in Ghana the rhythm of life slowed down. And that’s where healing begins.
Nobody’s rushing for no reason. There’s room to breathe. There’s time to pray. I wasn’t chasing time—I was finally living inside it.
The sound of the drums. The pace of conversations. The way people move. It all carries a peace that speaks to your soul. This isn’t noise. It’s divine order. It’s not man’s schedule—it’s God’s rhythm.
And in that rhythm, I felt myself begin to heal.
3. Nature Speaks When You’re Quiet
There’s something about the sound of nature that connects you back to yourself—and to God. It’s like sitting beside the waters and hearing its melody. In those moments, something healing happens. Peace enters. Wounds begin to mend.
Imagine hearing the night creatures sing you to sleep. In the West, many rely on pills or distractions just to rest. But nature is still the best sleeping pill—and it has no side effects.
Waking up to the wind, the birds, the roosters—it reminded me: creation hasn’t forgotten God.
In the West, I heard traffic. Sirens. Dead silence that wasn’t peace.
Here in Ghana, I heard the earth. And in that sound—I heard God.
Nature isn’t silent here. It prays and It praises. It breathes in rhythm with heaven.
Ghana reminded me that we were always meant to live close to the land. I’m not just surrounded by nature—I’ve been replanted in it.
4. Spiritual Oppression Is Real—and Heavy
I didn’t know what spiritual oppression was until I moved to the West. And truthfully, many people won’t recognize it until they fully adapt to the Babylon lifestyle.
I thought the tightness in my chest was just stress. I thought the numbness in my spirit was just part of life. But the West has a way of keeping your soul locked down—until you forget what freedom even feels like.
I didn’t realize how bound I was until I left and my first week in Ghana was like a spiritual upliftment.
In the West, there was always something sitting on me. A weight I couldn’t name. A constant pressure. I thought it was normal. But the moment I landed in Ghana, that weight began to lift.
I could breathe again. I could pray without resistance and also think with clarity.
Babylon numbs your soul. Ghana woke mine up.
5. Africa Still Holds the Promise
I’ve done my research on the children of Israel in the Bible. And what I’ve found is that the modern-day establishment of Israel looks nothing like Biblical Israel. The people who claim to be Jews today are the very ones Revelation spoke of—“those who say they are Jews and are not, but are of the synagogue of Satan.” (Revelation 2:9)
The truth is clear now: the original people of God—David, Solomon, even Jesus Himself—were melanated, and they lived on the landmass the colonizers renamed “Africa.”
Now it all makes sense. God’s people, once displaced, must return home.
Africa is not just a continent. It’s a calling.
In my first week in Ghana, it didn’t just welcome me physically—it received me spiritually. The soil didn’t resist me. It embraced me. The people didn’t question me. They confirmed me. And I’m convinced: Africa still holds the promise for God’s scattered children. A promise not just of land, but of purpose. Not just of history, but of healing. Not just of return, but of resurrection. Coming home isn’t a trend. It’s prophecy.
Conclusion: Coming Home Is a Spiritual Assignment
My first week in Ghana wasn’t just a change of address. It was a shift in atmosphere. A release from bondage. A return to rhythm.
The West dressed me in comfort but starved my spirit. Here, I eat food that’s grown from the same land that once wept for me. And the land doesn’t lie—it speaks. It sings. It heals.
I’m not saying Africa is perfect. But I know it’s prophetic. The same God who called Israel out of Egypt is still calling His children today—out of systems, out of illusions, out of spiritual sleep.
If you’ve been feeling the tug, it’s not random. It’s divine. The journey back is not easy, but it’s worth it. The healing isn’t instant, but it’s real. And the Spirit of Ghana? It doesn’t just greet you—it awakens you.
So take the step. Let your soul breathe again. Babylon was never home. Zion still remembers your name.
