Descriptive Essay About Your Hometown

Decent Essays

To me the concept of hometown is far removed but yet so familiar. Where I’m from in Ghana, West Africa, your mother’s hometown is your hometown. I have never been to my mother’s town so I cannot call it home. Except the time the bus driver sped past, with a school bus full of antsy middle schoolers, on a field trip. Where I’m from is where I live, Asenua. Sandwiched between two renowned villages Mamponteng and Ahwiaa-Meduma; Asenua is the armpit that connects the arm to the shoulder. A town whose sole purpose is to be bridge whence its name which means cross in English.
Like a cross has many roads, I have never ventured to a destination in Asenua without knowing at least three more routes. Walking on dust roads are the most common means of travel. Red chalky dust coats your shoes as you travelled to and fro. Sometimes red sand particles would get stuck in your eyes, ears and hair when car owners speed past causing a cloud dust to rain down on passersby. I often wondered why they sped, after all 85% of the roads where dead-end routes.
There is one main road in Asenua and it is made of asphalt. The road has no name. There are two sides to the road; the side I live on is for the living, it has colorful houses and lucrative businesses. On the other side of the road is a cemetery dedicated to the dead. In hind sight, the nameless main road, was is testament to the crossroads between life and death. The main road was built for cars, and the dirt paths were created for people but

Get Access