Tag: Childhood
-
The scent of herbs
returning home on foot after workthrough a shortcut behind housespoorly plannedbumped into a lady burning weedafter sweeping her backyardthe scent of herbs reminds meof my childhoodwhen I used to follow dad to the farmmy happiest moments were in the afternoonswhen we paused for the lunchof roasted yam with agushi stewA mouse or two hovering over…
-
Jérusalem
Can’t remember who died. But what I do remember clearly was that it was a big funeral that brought many of our relatives in neighboring Togo to our village. The ceremony extended from dusk to dawn. Even the generator that powered the mics and lamps all night became hoarse. The funeral grounds was the only…
-
Only if
the wind lashes through the lush unkempt hairof the conductor of the rickety bussending shock waves of foul odoracross noses of passengers packed to the brimnoses curl in silent protestbeside the road in the scotch morning heatare two pupilsa little girl and her brotherholding handsdesperate to get through the traffic to schoolthree loud bangs on…
-
The road to Damascus -page 5
I used to attend one of the top senior high schools in the country. Everything there was unlike its reputation. Many teachers were mostly absent from their post, and whenever they showed up in class, half of their teaching hours were dedicated to sharing jokes that had nothing to do with the lesson at hand.…
-
Sunday night drama
I turned to find mother crying. I did not understand why. But I always kept the incident in my heart, together with the storyline of the movie we were watching that day. When I was a child, every Sunday night there was this programme on television by name “Akan Drama”. It happened that on one…
-
Life in Northern Ghana 2/10
When I was a child living in our little village with my parents and siblings, life was very different. The weather, for instance, was highly predictable. We knew the rain that ushered in the rainy season and the rain that ended it. On the last day of rain, tiny ice cubes fell from the sky…
-
We always smell it from afar
Back then, we knew nothing about sexual harassment. All we knew was that teacher Musah loved Mansa and we all envied her whenever she walked about the school head high like a princess. Many ugly girls in the school winced at the thought of not having half her beauty. That Mansa was a minor, we…
-
Expedition to Mango heights
It was a long wall along a busy road. We stood by the wall, waiting, patiently. There always came a moment the busy road became quiet, kind of deserted. The very moment we were looking forward to. Ali bent, I stood on his bent back, and yet couldn’t properly reach the top of the wall.…
-
Mother’s ritual
Mother and her syringe. Colourful symbols of my childhood. As I reflect on the past, I see my legs high up in the air, suspended by mom’s left hand while her right held the syringe filled with a herbal mixture. First, I am bent over, the syringe is inserted into my anus, and the green…
-
first TV in my village
The first person to buy a television in my village was the envy of village gossipers for months. Clansmen who lived in distant places heard of the new wonder. The excitement in the village was electrifying. The man at the center of the news was a womanizer. Imagine how easily he magnetized desperate women longing…
-
Traces of the virus
I used to crave for attention. I would do anything to get it, although at the time I didn’t realize it was an obsession, tainted with subtle pride. It started in my childhood when a neighbor’s wife used to call my brother and send him on errands. She would sometimes give him gifts for being…
-
sticks in my ears
a wet rug was placed over the hot lantern chimneywhen the rug had soaked up enough heat and could no longer breatheit was placed over the fresh wound on my legI squirmed, screamed and tossed in painThick arms gripped me, so that the wet, hot rug could engage in a long lick of my woundmother’s…
-
End of play
We had been rehearsing for weeks, although I had no clue what it all meant and for what occasion. But from the repeated motions day in day out, I figured out some pieces of the puzzle : it was a play about a baby who was to be visited by shepherds. Who this baby was…
-
Village river
I remember the river in my village. It was on the outskirts of the village, behind stretches of thick bushes beyond which lied no man’s house. Our house was among the last leading out the village. From our house, you meet a shrine belonging to one uncle, and from the shrine was one old man’s…
-
Fascinating science
Mother came back from a hospital checkupShe said the white man is a wonderFor with a machine she knew not its nameThe doctor looked into her wombAnd saw all the babies she was going to have! The current one, and the rest to come years laterWe were stunnedHow could this be?Amazing the things happening in…
-
The Outcast (Page 45)
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…
-
The Outcast (Page 32)
I was young. Not only physically, but also mentally, and emotionally. A costly weakness. Diana was into me. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t read. Perhaps because she was about five years older than me, my little mind never interpreted what she did as love. I had no emotional intelligence to play along till my time…
-
The Outcast (Page 31)
One day I returned from school and discovered that we had a visitor. But this visitor was unlike the others we’ve seen so far. This guest seemed to be everywhere…in the kitchen, living room, even in the bedroom of the head of the house. Who could she be? Then I heard the teenager call her…
-
The Outcast (Page 30)
My new house was a relatively quiet one. The only mouth that spoke there was the head of the family. He speaks all the time and when everywhere was quiet, you knew he wasn’t around. It was a house of a man, his wife, a little boy (his nephew) and a teenager ( his niece).…
-
The Outcast (Page 29)
I still remember the first day I stepped into that house. It was a Sunday evening. We had finished taking supper and dad asked me to pack my belongings, he had spoken to an old friend and I could stay with his old friend to write my final exams. It would be just for a…
-
The Outcast (Page 28)
It wasn’t long before our luxurious life in the city started dwindling. It started with our driver. They said he had attitude. Or perhaps our parents couldn’t afford keeping him any longer. What does it matter? The dog wasn’t liked. Did it matter what bad name he was given or what river he going to…
-
The Outcast (Page 27)
On Monday, we started school. Our new driver drove us to school, but dad went with us to ensure that the teachers recognized us and allowed us into our various classrooms. Mom prepared some rice and beef stew. By now, we had new lunch boxes and she served us. We were to take the rice…
-
The Outcast (Page 25)
We were returning home in the car of dad’s friend who had done a lot in the background to make our admission into the new school a success. While the two engaged in chit-chat, I surveyed the neighborhood in which the school was situated. Burma Camp. The name of the vicinity. Soldiers lived there. An…
-
The Outcast (Page 24)
My first day at school. I repeated the words slowly to myself, wondering exactly what it meant while staring at the foolscap sheet on my desk. Could it be the first day I started schooling as a child, or my first day in their school? It could not be the latter. I was trying to…
-
The Outcast (Page 23)
Back in my primary school in the northern part of the country, at the beginning of every academic year, there was always news of a close friend that had relocated to some big town or city with their parents. The relocations often happened so sudden that there was hardly time to say goodbye. I and…
-
The Outcast (Page 22)
There was a digital clock in the bus. It told the time in red fonts. 1:15 Am. I had set off on this journey high on excitement. Now my tank was low. The journey to Accra was becoming longer than a journey to an illusion. “We are at Suhum….No….yes…say, fifteen to thirty minutes time we…
-
The Outcast (Page 21)
As our bus left Pwalugu, the arid, scotchy north was growing dimmer in the driver’s mirror. We raced through stretches of desolated grasslands, meeting fewer and fewer cars, tractors and donkeys. Slowly, we were fading out of wastelands, the whirring of our bus tyres timing our progress. Occasionally, we bumped into police checkpoints. Sometimes, it…
-
The Outcast (Page 20)
I sat by the window. Drawing the curtains slightly, I caught the final glimpses of our town as the bus snaked around the station before landing on the highway. The STC station was a collection of nim trees with a shed under which tickets were sold, where passengers and visitors could sit. Behind the shed…
-
The Outcast (Page 19)
Our cousin Pomaa lived with us. Mother felt Pomaa had grown too big to be kneaded into her perfect model of a good girl. So, she sent her away. We were going to the city and a lot of old things and old ways had to be left behind. Unknown to us, Pomaa did not…
-
The Outcast (Page 18)
Whispers. I awoke. Sitting up, I looked around. The windows were open, cold winds ruffling the curtains. The lights were still on. Can’t remember when we dozed off. I rose to turn off the lights, and in the act caught a glimpse of the clock. 12:15am. The whispering must have been in my dreams. Or…
-
The Outcast (Page 17)
Whatever invisible hand that was behind the mysterious incidents had an audacious motive: crush the head, render the rest of the body powerless. Our father was the breadwinner of the family. Mother did odd jobs to support, but the income was fickle. I and my siblings were still young, and even most of the extended…
-
The Outcast (Page 16)
We had a new headmaster, a retired district education officer. It seemed the most important lesson he’d learnt during his active years of service was that pupils ought to know hymns. “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild!…” he intoned. He sang it like it meant so much to him. I and my friend Karim would look…
-
Missing cigarettes
I used to steal from my father’s pack of cigarettes. I hid somewhere to smoke. I remember the sensation as smoke escaped my lips, into the air. It felt great. Especially the effect of the heat on the tongue. This went on for weeks. Little did I know that the old man was aware but…
-
The Outcast (Page 15)
One day, I was in class seated beside the window, reading a book, when suddenly someone appeared behind the window. “Patrick! Patrick !” a voice whispered, slipping a little paper into my hand as I turned. It was a boy. Before I could open the paper to read its contents, he vanished. A love letter.…
-
The Outcast (Page 14)
School resumed today. We resumed to dusty classrooms clogged with cobwebs. To old friends who couldn’t wait to share their Christmas experiences. To newcomers around whom we had to act civilised till we were comfortable enough to display our savage side. There were petty quarrels here and there about who owned what desk. But Master…
-
The Outcast (Page 13)
New year morning was quiet. Many were tired. School would resume in a few days time but already, I had heard a lot of rumors. That the headmistress had a heated argument with the school proprietor and was sacked. That Willie’s parents had been transferred to the capital Accra, hence he wouldn’t be joining us…
-
The Outcast ( Page 12 )
Pastor Elvis realized that most of the congregation struggled to stay awake. A lot had gone into preparing a special sermon for the last night of the year. Prayer. Fasting. Waiting on the Lord. And it hurt to see people snoring and not paying attention after such efforts. So, in the middle of his preaching,…
-
The Outcast ( Page 11 )
People talked about the current year as if it were some comet, slowly transporting us into a new year, a new planet where the sun’s rays switched from yellow to green, where perhaps poverty, sicknesses, and death were no more. A new year comes, and same old faces, same neighborhood, same life, same misery. And…
-
The Outcast ( Page 10 )
Christmas day. The fresh breeze and the bright blue morning light of the tropics looked like a simulation of a fairy world. We woke up to fireworks, amidst “Feliz Navidad” and “Jingle bells” from different corners of our neighborhood. Our first task in the morning as kids was to sweep the rooms and our compound.…
-
The Outcast ( Page 9 )
Christmas seasons were memorable times. There were a number of reasons why. Certain animation movies were only shown around Christmas time, and they were super exciting to watch. There were special family movies around the same time. I remember one Sunday we returned from Sunday school to meet an unusual film on Ghana Television. It…
-
The Outcast ( Page 8 )
The day all pupils looked forward to after exams was the vacation, the last day of school popularly known as “Our Day”. When exams was over and teachers were busy marking and recording exam scripts, we used papers to design all kinds of objects to decorate our classroom. The good artists in class drew scenes…
-
The Outcast ( Page 7 )
A few weeks after my election as class prefect, we had exams. End of term examination. All desks were spaced out. No copying. And we were to take our bags outside the class. Our teacher invigilated. Before every paper, he would write the subject and the duration of the paper on the board. In the…
-
The Outcast ( Page 6)
The noisemakers in the class wanted someone lenient, forgiving and easy to persuade as the leader of the class. Their long awaited opportunity finally came one morning during ‘silence hour’, when the headmistress burst into our class. The class was alive with mischief, chaos and noise. Surely we were going to be punished. Severely. Make…
-
The Outcast ( Page 2 )
Teaching usually started after 8am, right after morning assembly. And the hours before classes started, they were called “silence hour”. During this period, pupils who were present at school were numbered. The teachers on duty for the week would then storm classroom after classroom in the course of the day, fishing out late comers and…
-
Have you heard?
A boy of Teeth so big as if with secrets That two lips could not keep together Teeth so long They made the day of all kids that met them You can imagine the relief of the little boy When Babylon finally fell When Mother Nature fired those clowns Oh what joy! Those incisors have…
-
Roots
It was a world of nature and magic. Tough times baked people into tough heroes. And the difficulties of survival enriched tales told from one generation to the other, deepening the grip of their songs on the heart. My mind was thirsty for stories when I was a child and I would pester the adults…
Diary of a Wanderer 