Finally I traveled back to the city to prepare for my final exams of high school. It was the first time I was living on my own. I was to stay in a new hostel.

The joy of living as I please without any parental control was overwhelmingly intoxicating. Joy beyond description, beyond measure.

Little did I know it was going to be short-lived.

First, I sat myself down, drew a budget and was confident that the shopping I was going to do would be enough for the months ahead.

I got to the market and many of the food items were twice the price on my list. I was beginning to appreciate the many things my parents did for me and my siblings that we took for granted.

Little by little I purchased the items, items that almost exhausted all the cash I had. My hope was in the food items : they would last for months and so I had nothing to worry about.

Less than two weeks after the purchases, all the food was gone!

Nobody stole them. Nobody ate them. I did all the eating and I remembered when I ate what.

But it all got finished in less than two weeks! Food meant to last for months. Incredible! But I did my best to economize my resources!

Now, what to do?

I came up with a brilliant plan. A strategy born out of desperation. I had to harness all my survival instincts.

I decided to pay a visit to a couple who knew my parents well. I did not call to inform them in advance. The whole thing had to look like an accident. I was in the neighborhood and decided to pass by. Knowing that I was a student and my parents were no longer in town, they were sure to give me something when I’m leaving.

I put my plan into action. Action!

But there was a problem. As I dressed up to leave, I remembered I was cashless. Broke, to be precise.

I went to see a friend.

“Can I borrow 2 cedis from you? I will pay back today when I come back. I’m going somewhere.” I pleaded.

My friend looked me in the eye, wondering whether to help or not. I wasn’t used to borrowing from him. It must be serious. He probably smelled it.

“Sure! “ he said, handing me the note.

His name was Governor. A nickname.

” Thank you, Governor. I really appreciate it. ” I said as I hurried off.

It was my transport to my destination and not back. The fucking plan had to work!

I reached my destination, and alighted from the bus. Been ages since I visited that part of town.

Old memories came rushing in.
Step by step my little tour of the neighborhood ended, the main gate of the couple I went to visit was now right in front of me.

I knocked and waited. Then knocked louder while peeping through the spaces between the metal bars. Where had they gone to? No sign of life in the damned house!

“Shit!” I cursed in desperation.
How do I go back? And how do I pay Governor?

While standing there thinking, a voice called out, ” Are you looking for Mr. T.? “

“Yes! “ I answered, turning round to see who it was.

It was a woman who operated a provisions shop nearby.

” They have traveled. He and Mrs. Margaret. Might be back tomorrow or the day after. ” She informed me, much to my displeasure.

I forgot to thank her for the unwelcomed news.

I sighed deeply.

I had to think of an alternative. I had no plan B. I thought this was going to work. It had to work!

It was getting dark. And it was now dawning on me that I was stranded.

I was always suspicious of strangers who stopped me by the roadside begging for money or transport home with stories of being stranded, stories I always branded cock and bull.

Now, I had to join in the chorus, “Please, can you help me with my transport home? “ and hope against hope that the singing will produce an extraordinary miracle.

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