Tag: Childhood
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
Diary of a Wanderer 