The Naming: Welcome Home

The final day of the trip was the African Naming Ceremony. An African naming ceremony is more than tradition; it is a spiritual welcome home. It is the reclaiming of identity, the acknowledgment that even after generations of separation, displacement, and silence, you still belong. You are remembered. You are claimed.

We began by getting dressed for the ceremony. The women were wrapped in white garments and head coverings, symbolizing purity, rebirth, and peace. The men also wore white. Blue and white beads were placed around our necks and wrists, cool against the skin, carrying meaning, lineage, and protection. Clay was gently applied to our faces, hands, and feet, marking us as people of the earth, reminding us that we come from the land and are connected to it.

Then, one by one, we were called forward.

Each person drank a bitter liquid followed by water, symbolizing the bittersweetness of life. The bitterness represented struggle, loss, endurance, and pain. The water followed as a cleansing, a reminder of renewal, life, and hope. Both are necessary. Both shape who we become.

After drinking, our names were spoken.

Each of us received an African name, called aloud, placed into our spirit, and affirmed in front of the community. Mine is Naa Adjeley. Along with the name came a certificate and a bracelet engraved with it, something tangible to carry forward as a reminder of identity and belonging.

Once named, we were embraced, hugged warmly by the elders and ministers. Not rushed. Not ceremonial in a cold way. It felt like family welcoming family back.

The ceremony concluded with a reception filled with food, conversation, and quiet joy before we returned to the hotel for our final debrief. But emotionally, I was already somewhere else.

I cried for the rest of the day.

I cried thinking about the people. The children whose hands I held, the friends I made while going out every night, the hotel staff who felt like family, the women who hugged me without hesitation, the elders who looked at me like they already knew me. I cried because leaving felt wrong. Because missing them already hurt. Because home had just found me.

This journey gave me history, yes, but more than that, it gave me people. Faces. Names. Touch. Joy.

Ghana was not just a destination; it was a return. A remembering.A reclaiming.

As I closed this chapter, I realized something I will carry forever: once you are welcomed home, a part of you never leaves.

Let's Start from the Beginning