Dear Mum and Dad,

This is a letter from the last baby you left when she was barely two months old. I just want to tell you how we are all doing. It’s so sad that I don’t remember any of you. How could I? According to the stories, we lost Mum when I was two months old, and Dad followed when I was five months old. Our uncle’s wife who was expected to take me in, said she couldn’t. So your pastor stepped up. He gave me to a woman who lived in the next two towns.

I wish I could tell you about the woman but I don’t remember her either. I only heard stories about her. They said she was carrying me from camp to camp to beg for charity. The moment she heard that they were sharing food or certain items for orphans, she would carry me there. This gave your pastor the impression that the woman was not financially equipped enough to raise me. So he took me from her. Mum, Dad, it was your pastor who raised me.

He saw me through school. He made sure I never lacked anything; food, clothes, school fees, books, and anything a young girl needs from girlhood to womanhood. I have now completed nursing school by God’s grace. I am currently awaiting posting. It’s my prayer that I do so well in life that you guys would look down at me with pride. I also want my father to see me and be happy that he took a chance on me. By my father, I mean your pastor. When anyone asks who my dad is, I mention his name. I hope it doesn’t offend you.

I am not saying that he is your replacement. It’s just that he is all I know when it comes to a parent. Besides, had it not been for him I would have stayed in that village and rotted away. The same thing almost happened to my big brother and big sister, but they were also rescued by God’s grace.

Your second child, my sister was almost lost to the streets. Your brother’s wife gave her to some people. And she was serving them as a Shepherd girl. People suggested that Uncle’s wife give Sarah out for adoption but she refused. It took a lot of effort to change her mind. Once again, it was Pastor who negotiated with Uncle’s wife that they would give one of her daughters out of adoption as well if she let Sarah go. That was when she agreed. A man in Kumasi finally came for Sarah. He took care of her until she was old enough to be independent. Then he brought her back. She came home and continued her education.

Despite her struggles, she is doing well now. She is a midwife who is happily married. I am sure every time you see her, you beam with pride. I am convinced that you guys haven’t really left us. I know you are here taking care of us in your own way. They tell me the dead do not dwell among the living. Well, I’d like to believe you are our guardian angels. How else would I explain the way we turned out despite all the hurdles along our path?

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Your oldest son, I heard our uncle’s wife didn’t want to let him go to anyone. After all, he was old enough to do house chores. He could sweep, fetch water, go to the market, and run all forms of errands for her. She had older children who could do all that for her but she just preferred to have Prince do them. It wasn’t easy but they finally persuaded her to let him go to someone who would take proper care of him.

Today, Prince is a teacher and a businessman. He is also doing well in life. He seems happy. I am sure you are proud of him. Lord knows I am. I am proud of all of us. Mostly, I am grateful for the helpers along our path who made it a point to raise us as their own and equip us with the skills we need to survive in this life.

Although we are fine, we miss you terribly. I don’t know which of us has the biggest void. Prince knew you the longest. He must remember you enough to miss your absence. As for Sarah, I am not sure if she remembers you enough or at all. And then there is me, I have absolutely no memories of you yet I feel this loss.

As if someone took something from my hand before I could even hold it. I am not going to lie, I used to feel bad about being an orphan, especially one who never met her parents. You didn’t even leave behind any pictures for me to look at. Maybe you did, but I have yet to see a single one. I do hope when we meet in the afterlife, I will be able to recognize you.

Yours,

—Lulu

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