(9/12) “Every day after class I went to the main branch of the...

(9/12) “Every day after class I went to the main branch of the New York Public Library. It was my favorite place in the city. I couldn’t believe how big it was. This place had every book in the world. In Ghana I hadn’t been able to find a single photography book, but here there were entire books with nothing but photos from Ghana. When I was learning to become a photographer, these books could have helped me so much. But the whole time they were here, 3000 miles away, sitting on a shelf. It didn’t make sense to me. Each week I got a small stipend from Humans of New York. Half I sent home. With the remainder I went to second-hand bookstores around the city, buying their African photography books. I planned to bring them back home with me so that other young photographers would have something to study. The time difference with Ghana was five hours. So every morning the first thing I did was call my daughter. I’d speak to her for an hour on her lunchbreak. At first she was in denial about how long I’d be gone. It just seemed like another of Daddy’s trips to her. She loved looking at pictures of all the new places I’d been. But after a few weeks the questions began. Always she was asking: ‘When are you coming?’ ‘When are you coming?’ I did my best to stay on top of everything, even though I was far away. I’d wake up at 3 AM to help her study for tests, or complete her own projects. I knew every assignment and test score. I knew the friends she was making. I even knew the cartoons she was watching. I tried my best to be there, but still, I wasn’t there. The guilt began to weigh on me. But I did what I always do. I switched off my emotions. I pushed my mental health aside, and reminded myself of the opportunity I was being given. But there was one other thing. Something I wasn’t prepared for. Every morning I stopped into the same bodega to buy breakfast. And I kept noticing that the owner was following me through the aisles. Sometimes this would happen in Ghana, but they’d always ask if you needed help. And this woman never asked if I needed help. So one morning I asked her: ‘Is there a problem?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Black people have been stealing from me.’”