A Room of Her Own: A Month at the Library of Africa and The African Diaspora
‘A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write’ — Virginia Woolf
I write best in the mornings. And I can tell you for free that there are few things more peaceful than mornings at the Library of Africa and The African Diaspora. The building is nestled in a nook in Greater Accra, warm yellow with a radiance I know I will miss. The chickens wake before we do and the sun awakes the earliest; both sensations rousing me from sleep gently until my eyes finally open. Outside my window is a mosaic of deep reddish-brown earth flecked with small banana trees clustered like kin. The entire house is quiet, so quiet that I can hear every thought begin to take shape in my mind. It is with the clarity so well cultivated in these conditions that I sit at my desk and begin to write.
The first thing I did when I got here was sleep. Ghanaians have near constant electricity supply and the stunning silence kept sending me to sleep almost hypnotically. I’d had such a busy first quarter, running from pillar to post and my body upon arrival here found rest so quickly. Sated for sleep, I dived into the Blackest library collection I have ever seen in my life. Shelves and shelves of African writers — old, young, new, contemporary, classic, everything — showing me that this is work we have been…
