I was only four years when I lost my father. It didn’t hurt that much because I didn’t understand death. All I knew was that the man who used to give me chocolate bars was no longer around. The only person I had a strong connection with was my mother. And she was always there for me. So I was okay.

My mother did not allow the fact that she was widowed to stop her from giving us the best she could in life. She did everything for my elder brother and me to have a normal childhood. When it got to a point where she couldn’t provide for our needs she would tell us to pray. She told us, “God is the father of the fatherless, so he will take care of us.” Every little thing she would say, “Let’s pray. God will provide.” I did not understand what she meant completely but I knew there was a man called God who gave my mother things to give to us. That’s how she instilled the fear of God in us.

Our family progressed fairly well until I got to the age of nine. I will always remember that age as the time everything changed in our lives. My mother was the kind of woman who was always out of bed before 6:00 AM. So I knew something was amiss when I woke up well past six and found my mother still in bed. What even caused me to run to my brother was the muffled sound of her tears. She kept saying, “God, please help me. I can’t die and leave my children orphans.”

My brother who was also a child himself had no idea what to do to help my mum. She was so sick that I feared the worst might happen. Thankfully, our neighbours stepped in and took my mum to the hospital. They took care of her while she was there till she recovered and came home. We were so happy that she was fine. But my mum was not as fit as she used to be.

Prior to her sickness, my mother was one of the strongest women I knew. She was not only physically strong but she had a strong will. My father’s family had wanted to take our house from us but my mother stood against them and came out the winner. Apart from them, there were people in our neighbourhood who often fought against her and lost. This earned her the nickname “Akosua Tutugyagu” which means “Akosua Troublesome”. Because of her issues with these people, she believed her sickness was a spiritual attack. So she set out to seek spiritual protection.

She took her prayer life very seriously and attended churches. It got to a point where she told her sister that she would like to go and camp in a church for a while. My aunt suggested, “If you are going to camp in the church then go with your daughter.” My mum said she didn’t want to interfere with my schooling so she would rather go to the church alone. I caught this conversation between them because I eavesdropped. Nobody told me about the date my mother was supposed to go to the church. I just returned from school one day and found our home empty. My brother was in secondary school at the time so his absence was expected. It was my mother’s absence that disappointed me.

I asked about her whereabouts from our neighbours and they told me, “Your mother went to church. She will camp there for a while.” I was lucky enough to have one of our neighbours call her so I could talk to her. When we spoke she said, “Don’t worry. I will be home by next week to celebrate your birthday for you. I was happy and filled with expectations. I told all my classmates the next day at school that my mother would be having a birthday party for me.

Day and night I prayed for my mother’s recovery. Then a week came and I sat at our door expecting her return. I stretched my neck whenever I heard someone’s footsteps but none of the people who passed by was my mother. “Maybe she will come home on my birthday,” I consoled myself. So I waited for my birthday and it arrived but my mother was still nowhere to be found. All attempts to reach her on the phone had proved futile. We kept trying her phone while we waited for her to come home. After two weeks, we started getting worried.

My brother was made to come home from school so he would go and look for my mum. When he went to the church he returned with our mum’s belongings but not her. He said she did not find him there. The people at the church said she was there for a while but then she left. They couldn’t tell us where she went. So my brother went to the police station to file a missing person’s case.

Days later the police said they found her body in the morgue. Nobody told me what happened to her. They didn’t even want to tell me she was dead. I had to figure it out when I noticed everyone was wearing black. And they cried whenever I asked them, “When is my mother coming home?” When they finally told me my mum was no more I felt like I had lost all my limbs. I cried till I had more tears. I was eleven at that time so I knew what death meant. And the more I thought about it the more empty I felt. I was even sure that, if I cried hard enough, I would join my mother. I had no idea that the last time I saw her was the last time I would see her. The last time I heard my mother’s voice was on the phone, and I did know it was our last conversation. To say that I was broken is an understatement. I felt so lost.

After the funeral, I had to go and live with my aunt. My brother was old enough to be on his own so no one took him in. I was too young to be left in his care so my aunt had to take me in. Living with my aunt only made my mother’s death more unbearable for me. My aunt was cruel. Her cruelty was so immense that I believed I would be better off with my mum in the next world. So I did things that were meant to end my life but I ended up surviving.

The only good thing in my life at that time was school. I had friends over there who cared about me and I had teachers who liked me. The school had clubs; drama, choreography, and choir. I tried to join one of the clubs but I could neither sing nor dance. I also realized I could not act. I almost gave up until I heard about the poetry group. I am very eloquent so I could easily do recitals. I write well too so I started writing my own poems.

We were rehearsing for an event but I did not get a poem to recite. When I complained our teacher asked me to write my own poem. I prayed to God For wisdom as I attempted to write a poem about death. I wasn’t sure the poem was good until I recited it on the day of the event. It touched many hearts, one of which was the owner of one of the schools in our community. The proprietor of the school gave me a scholarship to attend his school from class five till I completed JHS.

This scholarship opportunity lessened my aunt’s burden but that was not enough to earn me her love. I did my best to please her but my very presence was enough to always put her in a bad mood. When I was writing my BECE this woman told me, “Don’t expect to further your education. I have done enough for you. I can’t even accommodate you anymore.” I was determined to reach the skies and make my mama proud so I did not allow her to get to me.

Immediately after I wrote my last paper, I packed my bags and went back to my mother’s house. I lived there with my brother who was using the rent he received from the tenants to look for opportunities to go to nursing school. It was my mother’s dream for him to be a nurse so he was just trying to make the dream come true. While I awaited my results I started selling credit transfer to save money for SHS. And for the first time since my mother’s death, I enjoyed peace of mind.

Luck was on my side again when the free SHS policy was introduced. I felt God influenced the policymakers to make such a policy so that I and other orphans in the country would get the opportunity to attend senior high school. I was thinking about what I would need for school when a relative told me that I should pack my bags and go live with my mother’s elder sister. Another aunt? I cried till my eyes were blood red. I thought about everything I went through with my mother’s younger sister and wept. I couldn’t imagine experiencing that all over again but what choice did I have? I had to go to her.

She has an older son and a younger daughter. Her daughter became my friend and her son became my new big brother. They were good to me but I was too afraid to allow myself to get comfortable around them. My past experience had scarred me. The only rule my aunt gave me was, “Don’t talk to your brother again, if not I will stop taking care of you. Do you know he disrespected your uncle? I don’t want him to be a bad influence on you.” How did she expect me to cut off my only sibling? Her rule made me walk on eggshells around her.

When school started I made friends who brought me comfort. So I thought of school as my place of comfort. However, I never got used to my aunt enough to feel comfortable at home. So while other kids preferred to stay home than go to school, I was happy to be in school. Somehow, my aunt sensed that I was always anxious when I was in her house so she sent me to go live with another one of her sisters in Kumasi. And I felt so at home over there because communication was free and easy.

I excelled academically. I topped almost every subject in class. This made my aunt happy so she bought me a phone. My life started making sense again. I was happy even. Then when I got to SHS 2 I started missing my brother very badly. So I took his number from my aunt and called him. I was in the boarding house by then and the next day was a visiting Saturday so my brother promised to visit me. I was so happy that I forgot all about my elder aunt’s warning. I even called the woman and told her my brother was going to visit me at school. She acted normal, but she was hurt.

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She told everyone about my supposed betrayal. And when I came home for Christmas holidays, my younger aunt insulted me in front of her little children. I cried so much that day. It didn’t end there. After insulting me she said, “Pack your things and leave. The person taking care of you said you disobeyed her so you are no longer her responsibility. I can’t take care of you either. So you have to leave.” I wiped my tears and packed my bags and went back to my mother’s house in Obuasi. That day I asked myself, “What kind of destiny did I bring into this world? Why does everything seem to work against me?”

Back at home, my brother assured me that he would take care of me. In January of the next year, he set off to Kumasi and found himself a construction job. He didn’t make enough money to take care of both our needs but he always sent us money and I managed it the best way I could. After struggling for a while, I went to God one day and asked him for a boyfriend. I believed having a boyfriend would ease my financial troubles. I was seventeen, young enough to attract older men and also boys my age. I could have said yes to any of the thirsty ones coming my way but I wanted a good guy. So I asked God to choose someone for me.

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Two weeks after my prayer, I got a boyfriend. He lived in Cape Coast so it was a mutual friend who connected us. He had a good job that paid him well. And he was very generous. The guy was literally God-sent. He always sent me money for school so I encouraged my brother to save the money he meant to send me. My boyfriend became my family. He lived far away but he took good care of me as he would his younger sister. Even when he quit his job to further his education, he still found a way to provide for me. He would add his money to my brother’s little, and together they made sure I completed SHS.

My grades were excellent. And I told myself, “This is the time to make Mama proud.” I did not pursue journalism like she wanted me to but I have decided to be the nurse my brother could not become. Thankfully, I gained admission to nursing school. And I am happy to have my boyfriend and my brother taking care of me. I believe that God brought my boyfriend my way because he knew my brother wouldn’t be able to do it all alone. Just as my mother taught me, God is indeed the father of the fatherless. My life has been a difficult one but God has been with me every step of the way. I used to cry and question him when things went bad but now I know I was wrong. God never abandoned me. He preserved my life when I tried to end it and he has always made a way for me to be taken care of.

Today I am not sharing my story only to recount the misfortunes of my life, no. I am sharing my story to encourage everyone who is struggling out there to keep moving. As sure as the sun rises, God will take care of you. If you count your little blessings, you will see that God has been with you all along. So have faith in Him and be strong in your trials.

–Esi

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