If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

She laughed about it. She thought I was joking until I had a son. I told her about my son but she never saw a photo though she requested to see it often. That didn’t break her resolve to tell me the truth. We had a daughter two years later. My husband had come to Ghana twice but I didn’t let him meet my mom.

When my second child was five, we came to Ghana. I stayed at my husband’s family house in Accra. I went home alone to see my mom. She asked about the family. I told her I came with them. “Why are you doing this? You’re my only daughter and I demand to see my grandchildren.”

I picked up a stool and sat in front of her. “We are leaving a week from today. There’s time. Say it and see them tomorrow or I’ll leave and you’ll never see us again.” She bit her lips and turned away to hide her tears. “After everything I’ve done for you, is your father that you want to see? What do you need a father for at this moment in your life?”

I was not falling for the emotional blackmail. I was stern and resolute. She said “Ok, I’ll tell you. After all, you’re your own woman now.”

She got pregnant when she was in school but my dad wasn’t in school. He was a young teacher who came to teach in her school. When the pregnancy happened, he wanted it terminated but my mom was too scared to go on with it so she refused. My dad told her, “Then don’t mention my name to anyone, other than that my future would be ruined. They’ll sack me as a teacher..if that happens, I can’t teach anywhere again. Even if I marry you later, I will marry you a pauper. You don’t want that, do you?” Give the pregnancy to someone else. In future, I will marry you and take you to the city where we can live as one family.”

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My dad disappeared never to be seen again. All he left was his name and the town he came from.

According to my mom, she didn’t mention him not because of what he told her but because she was ashamed of allowing a teacher to impregnate her. During her time in junior high school, it was a thing in the public schools but everyone frowned on it so much that you were even ashamed to be seen with a teacher after school. She wasn’t a spoilt kid to give the pregnancy to the next guy so she kept me to herself and soldiered on alone.

Her parents ostracized her. She went to live with an uncle. While living with her uncle, she met my brother’s father who helped her to afford a decent life. later, they dated and she got pregnant again. My brother’s father accepted responsibility but wasn’t ready to marry my mom. Her world was turned upside down but she decided to do it all alone with me by her side.

I asked her, “Do you know where he is now? Did you talk to him afterwards?”

She did. According to her, she started digging to find him the very first day I asked about him. She knew I wasn’t going to stop so she found him just in case.

I came back to see her with my family after telling me the story. She hugged my husband as if she owned him. Like the husband she never had. She stooped and looked into the eyes of the kids and said, “Do you know me?” They both chorused, “Yeah you’re grandma.” She hugged them the way she never hugged me. I was a little bit jealous. She loved me but she never hugged me.

That day she gave me my dad’s number, “Call him if you want to. He’s alive and kicking. The demons couldn’t slay him the way I wanted them to.”

I placed the number in my husband’s pocket and never asked for it again. I didn’t know what I was going to tell him. I rehearsed the introduction in my head but it didn’t feel right. My mom’s voice echoed in my ears, “At this age, what do you need a father for? He’s not going to help with your homework or drive the area boys away from you. So what do you need him to do in your life?”

I didn’t make that call. To me, he was that guy who walked to the beach at dawn and surrendered to his demons. He was gone. Dead and buried at sea. It was too watery to resurrect him back into a life he ran away from.

In August 2022, we came back to Ghana, we decided to do a small traditional marriage in front of my mom to honour her. If I didn’t do it, who was going to do it? I didn’t want to rob her of that opportunity. She didn’t experience it as a woman coming of age. She had to experience it as a mother.

While performing the traditional marriage, I caught the eye of a man who looked so familiar but couldn’t remember where I knew him from. He was seated three seats away from my mom. His gaze was fierce. He didn’t blink, laugh or smile.

“Where do I know this face from?”

At the tail end of the ceremony when he came for a hug, my mom winked at me. My heart skipped a beat before coming to a total halt. I said in my head, “My eyes have never seen him before but it looks like my soul remembers who he is.”   

When I disengaged from the hug and looked at his face, he resembled the face of the man I scribbled unconsciously when I was young. The man being chased by his demons.

Mom smiled and I nodded. I mentioned his name. He smiled and said, “Nice meeting you, my daughter. We’ll talk.”

It sounded so weird to have a man call me daughter. That was when I knew that Indeed I was too old to need a father. He said we would talk but he disappeared right after the wedding. Mom asked me, “So what next?” I answered, “Nothing. I’m at peace knowing that I met the man who fathered me.”

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That was the first time and sadly the last time I saw my dad.

I couldn’t attend his funeral when he died but I learned my name was in his obituary posters as the first child. Eventually, the demons won. They did their thing but in a different way. They allowed him to go when it was time for the sun to set in his life. May he rest well.

— Bertha

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