My dad worked in a fitting shop. At his age, he should have owned the fitting shop but he didn’t. He was too poor to come close to owning a fitting shop. He was the senior apprentice there—an apprentice who never left because he was too poor to start his own shop. Most of the days, he came home with nothing. When the shop was good, or when he received tips, he came home with something that could feed a family of five for just one evening.

Mom had a store in front of our house where I spent most of my after school hours. As the first child, that shop became my property anytime mom wasn’t around. It didn’t bring in much, except when push came to shove, we ate what was in the shop. Push came to shove every day so we ate from the shop until my mom ran into perpetual debt. She was always running from something, someone or from her own shadow.

It was in that shop that I met Ato who later became my boyfriend. I didn’t like him that much at first but he looked like someone who had food so I said yes to him. I was twenty-two. He was thirty. For seven months he always came to my rescue, so much that what he gave me benefitted my family. He complained one day that an unnamed insect had bitten him on a farm he visited.

His legs got swollen until he couldn’t walk again. I was with him every day. His family came to know me and started expecting my visit. I boiled water for him. I ground the herbs they used as his medicine. I would put his head on my lap as his grandma administered the herbs to his swollen leg. His grandma loved me so much that she told Ato to marry me soon after healing.

Ato never got healed. He died a year after battling with the bite of that unknown insect. His family walked from shrine to shrine when his situation was getting worse. They heard long stories of the reason why he couldn’t get well. Eventually, when he succumbed to the constant pain, his grandma touched my heart and said, “You’re a good woman. His light will always be ahead of you.”

Seven years after Ato’s death, I had no boyfriend. No man ever saw me and stopped to look at me once. For seven years, I didn’t receive any proposal from any man. I had moved towns twice, to live with an aunt and later to another town to live on my own. I found a job where I met beautiful men I fell in love with but none of them looked my way.

One night, I reflected on my journey to adulthood and all the people who had been part of my growth. One thing was certain and that thing was poverty. Though I had come to the city to work, my family was still poor and overly reliant on me. Dad had retired from his senior apprenticeship position, something he did out of force. He was too sick to continue being a senior apprentice. Mom had the shop. I sent money to stock it up but her debt was too huge to pay in a lifetime so she kept running from something, someone or from her own shadow.

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Out of desperation to break away from the poverty and unhappiness that had followed me from my childhood, I decided to consult a fetish priest to look into my life and see why I’d been suffering and most especially tell me why I hadn’t had a proposal since Ato died.

I travelled back home. I learnt the best place to go is home when you want to know your past and your future. Home is where your navel was buried. The soil is rich with your DNA so it’s easier for the gods there to tell what’s strumming the suffering of your life.

When I told Mom about my mission, she tried to stop me: “God has always been our fortress. Why are you forsaking him now? Why go into the dark world when you live in a place where you can see life and what it brings?”

Early morning when I was visiting the fetish priest, she walked me to the roadside and wished me well. “I hope you find answers,” she told me. Dad was too weak to say anything.

I met a tiny man who said had been the mouthpiece of our forefathers for hundreds of years. When he saw me he told me he could see a dark figure following me. He told me to bring a white bald fowl, a piece of white cloth and cola nuts.

It took some days to get a white bald fowl but my mom got it anyway. One Saturday morning, I put all of them together and went back to the shrine. He covered my body with the white cloth and asked me to sit on the floor. He slaughtered the fowl, dipped his finger in the blood and made a mark on my forehead, chest and on my arms. He said the dark figure would see the marks and flee from me.

He cooked the fowl and asked me to eat everything. After that, he took the cloth, folded it and placed it on the floor. He placed the cola nuts on the cloth and asked me to pick two of them. When I did, he asked me to leave. “Wake up at dawn and eat one of the cola nuts and bury the other one. It’s for him. You’re free.”

I came back to the city and a few weeks later I found a new job. A front desk job that paid much better than my previous job. On my first day at work, a gentleman walked in and walked me by. He didn’t greet me or say hello. When he passed me by, he looked back and because I was already looking back at him, our eyes met. He smiled. I smiled back. A few minutes after he had entered, my boss came in and gave me an assignment to do. I left my workstation for close to an hour. When I came back the lady there told me a gentleman came to ask of me.

“Did he tell you his name? What about his number?”

My heart broke when I thought I’d missed a chance of a lifetime but two days later, he came back again. He came to my desk to ask questions. He told me he asked of me the last time he was around. He was talking to me but my mind was far away, thinking about good things. He took my number and I took his. When he called that night, I asked him, “Are you married?”

“No”

“Do you have a child?”

“No.”

“Is your heart committed to someone else?”

He paused for a while before saying, “No, but I hope it will be very soon.”

Our first date was on a football pitch close to my area. It was in the evening. The stars were sparkling. I sat on a stone close to the goalpost. He leaned on the goalpost as we talked. Our second date was at the same spot. He came to my place right after work but I didn’t take him home. He was too new to see my old out-of-shape room.

Our third date was a proper date at a restaurant in town. We ate and drank. After the date, we sat in his car but he didn’t move. The engine was on and it was cold inside. I placed my two hands in between my thighs. He asked if I was cold. I shook my head. He grabbed me and pulled me on his lap. I remained there while he said nothing for a long while. He proposed. I said yes.

That was in May, eleven years ago.

Dad died a year after our marriage. The senior apprentice, for the first and last time, dressed in a beautiful kente that made him look like a king. Three years after his death, Mom also died. Apparently, she never recovered from the heartbreak of the death of her husband. In death, she’s no longer running from something, people or from her own shadow.

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The rest of the family are doing well. They don’t have everything figured out but they are better than our childhood.

I have two kids and not expecting any more. For the rest of my life, I’m dedicating it to this marriage and the man who walked in and never left. The man who heard my long elliptical story and said the gods were right for bringing me into his life. Ups and downs couldn’t change us. Back and forth didn’t get us distracted. We know where we come from and we know that there’s a reward where we are going.

— Nyarkoaa

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