On the 7th of January 2021, I was on a Sprinter bus, travelling from Winneba to Accra. I remember the date very well because the next day was Adobea’s birthday, the reason I was travelling from school to see her. When I sat in the car, I placed my bag under the seat in front of me, put my head on the backrest of the same seat my bag was under and slept away.

The traffic from Buduburam was very thick as expected. A less than an hour journey turned into two or even three depending on where you start the calculation. When I lifted my head from my slumber, I realized we were almost in Accra and the people in the seat in front of me had alighted.

I pulled my bag from under the seat at Mallam junction, getting ready to alight. I saw a wallet that didn’t belong to me on my bag. I picked it up and thought of giving it to the driver’s mate. I thought: What if the owner doesn’t come for it? Even if he comes around, would he be honest enough to give it out?”

I opened the wallet and saw IDs. “I will take it from here,” I told myself.

The first thing Adobea noticed when she met me was the wallet in my hand. She asked when I started using wallets instead of a purse. “You stole Harold’s wallet?” She asked me. I told her the story of how I came to own the wallet. “It might have fallen from the pocket of one of the guys who were on that seat my bag was under,” I told her.

“Does it have plenty of money in it?” She asked me. I hadn’t checked so she took it from me and started doing the inspection. There was a GHC50 note and a GHC100 note, amounting to GHC150. “No wonder he didn’t bother to protect it from falling. If it had millions, there was no way he was going to allow it to fall,” Adobea said. We burst into laughter.

In the morning, I checked the ID cards in the wallet. There was a driver’s license, a Ghana card and three ATM cards. He looked peaceful on the cards, like someone who belonged with the monks. I looked for him on social media using the name on the card. I started on Facebook and ended on Facebook because I found him after minutes of searching.

I showed his profile to Adobea. She went through the photos one after the other, comparing them with what was on the ID. She concluded, “It’s him. He looks like someone who would have only GHC150 in his wallet. Look at his ears and forehead. It’s giving stingy vibes.”

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I dropped him a message and added my number for him to call as soon as possible. We were busy the whole day celebrating Adobea’s birthday but I kept checking if he had seen the message. From morning till evening, the guy never called. I was leaving Accra the next morning.

When the night was over and we were about to sleep, Adobea asked of him. I told her he hadn’t called. She said, “Did you see his tiny beard? Does it look like someone who’ll check his messages on Facebook? By now he has been crying all day because of the missing GHC150. I don’t know why you even care.”

When I was leaving the next morning, I left the wallet in Adobea’s drawer. She picked it up, took GHC100 out and gave it to me. “Let’s split. He’s not coming. I’ll take the GHC50.” I burst out laughing but still took the money. I told her she would have an explanation to do if the guy calls.

I was in a car going back to Winneba when he called. The excitement in his voice told a story of relief and hope. He kept thanking me for contacting him and also blessed me with God’s name for saving him from the struggle of doing all his cards again. “Wherever you are, just tell me and I’ll come running,” he told me.

I gave him Adobea’s number and told him to call her instead. Minutes later, Adobea called; “Madam, your man called. I hope you told him we’ve split the money. If not, you better send the GHC100. I don’t want any embarrassment.”

I didn’t send the money. When she met the guy, she told him I’d taken GHC100 as a service charge.

After their encounter, the guy called to say thank you and also talked about how lively Adobea was and how she made him laugh. Minutes later, I received an alert. He sent me GHC500 with the reference, “Just to say thank you.”

In April 2021, when I was getting ready to go home for Easter, Adobea called. “Am I seeing you this Easter? I’ve reserved a lot of gist for you if only you’ll see me.”

I had no intention of seeing her but when Adobea talks about gist, you have to leave everything and see her because it’s always massive. I went to her place straight from school. When I entered, I saw a guy seated in the hall with a bottle in his hand. He smiled and mentioned my name. He looked familiar, like someone I’d seen in a dream or a movie.

“Wait…are you…?

“Yes, he’s the one. The GHC150 guy,” Adobea answered from the bedroom. He burst out laughing before we joined in. “I came to surprise you,” he told me. I responded, “This is beyond surprise. I’m shocked.”

He went around the house like someone who owned a piece of the house. He knew where the opener was and went to the fridge without being directed. I whispered to Adobea, “Don’t tell me he lives here with you.” She whispered back, “He doesn’t only live here, he ‘eats’ me too.”

“Wow,” I screamed. “Since when?”

It turned out they never stopped talking from the day they met. The guy found her fascinating and decided to stick around and decipher who Adobea was. He proposed after two weeks. Adobea accepted and they had been dating at my blind spot. According to what Adobea told me, just a week after knowing each other, she fell for him but decided to take things slowly. “He’s more than what’s in his missing wallet,” she told me. “He’s a gentleman and more.”

It will take love in its truest form for Adobea to speak glowingly like that about a man. She’s never the lovey-dovey type. Talk about “men are scum” and she’ll be there. Or “men will show you…” and she’ll add, “pepper.” Watching her speak about a man that way looking at her eyes danced in its sockets made me believe this was different.

When the guy left, we spent the night talking about everything they’ve done and been through. I was giggling like a little girl. That was because Adobea spoke like a little girl herself.

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in the early morning of February 3rd 2023, Adobea looked into my eyes and said, “I don’t believe we are doing this.” “We are,” I responded. “You’re already dressed up and I’m here by your side. Yes, we are doing this.”

I held the helm of her gown and said, “Let’s go, we are already late.” Her mom held her hands and led her slowly to her car to be walked down the aisle.

I was there at their baby’s christening this year. They named their daughter Francisca. That’s my name. I’m also the godmother, because I’m the reason the baby could exist.

— Francisca

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