African-Caribbean airbridge

Every year, large sandstorms blow millions of tons of dust thousands of miles west from the Sahara, across the Atlantic Ocean, and way into the Caribbean. The dust creates hazy skies over my island, delivers nutrients to the trees and shrubs, and sometimes it even causes rain during the dry season.
These sandstorms make me realize that West Africa is really not that far away. There is an African-Caribbean airbridge. It’s just not for people.

Unlike the sand, a West African who wants to travel to the Caribbean has to go through either Europe or the United States. The other way around, it’s the same. They tell me it’s because the routes between our regions are not sustainably profitable.

I think it’s a matter of will.

Now I don’t own an airline and have no plans to go into politics. I do believe in the power of words, though.
If we can’t have an airbridge for the people yet, let’s build a word bridge. To help us reconnect. To help us trace long-lost lines while moving forward. To share flash fiction about fufu and funchi, thoughts on Nkrumah and Doktoor, or to heal from the past by letting our hearts speak.

Let’s celebrate, contemplate, and conversate.

I invite you, my dear Ghanaian and Curaçaoan friends, to contribute to this platform.
Akwaaba!
Bonbiní!

Welcome to Transatlantic Relatives.