Who Am I?

I am African. I am Ghanaian. I am Ewe. And I am human. 
Yet when I am in America, I am nothing except African. 

Who, in Texas, Tennesse, cares whether you are a Nubian or a Libyan; Omotswana or Omotsikere? 
You all look and sound the same... and carry the same illness. Thats what, they say. 

If I am in Europe, I am first an African - then I am Ghanaian second. 
Europeans tend to appreciate the subtle differences among people from my continent. 

And when I am in another African country - I am Ghanaian-African. 
I like to express my Africanness through the uniqueness of being Ghanaian. 

But at home, I am Ghanaian first, and then I am Ewe. 
I am sustained by the Ewe blood. But I cannot present that in a vial to the immigration desk at Boryspol, Kiev.
"Паспорт Пожалуйста.!" - "Passport please!" 

My full lips speak eloquently enough of my equatorial ancestry: of my place in the tropical sun; of what and who I am. 
But for the avoidance of doubt, I shall say it one more time: 

I am African; I am Ghanaian; I am Ewe and I am human.