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When I met her, she told me her name was Blessing and she was a Nigerian. I asked, “A Nigerian and you can speak impeccable Twi like that? You Might have been living in Ghana for so long.” She said, “Actually my mother is a Ghanaian. She met my father in Nigeria and they got married. All my siblings and I were born in Nigeria. Until twelve years ago, my mother brought us to Ghana. I asked, “Since then you haven’t gone back again?” She answered, “My mom and my dad are no longer married and since we chose to live with our mother, we haven’t been able to go back to Nigeria again.”

She was sweet and funny at the same time. One thing I love about her is how plain she is with her feelings. She doesn’t mince words. If the thing is green, there is no way she’s going to call it any other color apart from green. She’s also the life of the party. Take her anywhere and by the time she leaves, everyone there would know her name. She would be the first to step on the dance floor and she would be the first to introduce herself to you.

Two weeks into the relationship. I realized something I thought was strange. She has two phones with two different numbers. No matter what I did, she wouldn’t give me the number of her other phone. She told me, “That number is for my Nigerian friends. I want to know the difference. If you call me on the iPhone, you’re from Ghana. If you call me on this Infinix, then you’re from Nigeria. I don’t mix things up.”

True to her words, anytime someone called her on the Infinix, she spoke pidgin with that person. You know that kind of Pidgin language Nigerians speak? Exactly that. She would speak it with the Nigerian accent and blend it with some Nigerian local language. I told her, “You’re more Nigerian than a Ghanaian.” She responded, “Mommy is a Ghanaian so I’m more Ghanaian.”

We went out on a date often. She would choose the places for us to go and would give reasons why she wouldn’t like to go to some of the places I chose. Sometimes is their food. Sometimes they don’t have good customer service and another time, “My friend works there. She would see me and be asking for tips. No, don’t let us go there.”

One evening, she was on the phone talking. She was speaking Pidgin so I knew she was talking to a Nigerian friend. I was coming from the bathroom when I heard her saying, “I no dey street yet. Call me later.” An hour later she said, “I have to go.” I asked, “I thought you were spending the night here?” She said, “Naaa I have to be home today. Mommy isn’t well. She would need me around.” I gave her money and she left.

Another afternoon, she was talking on the Nigerian phone. She couldn’t speak freely. Some of her words were hushed. She said, “Buh you, why you go call me this time?” She cut the line. Often times when she was with me, the Nigeria phone would be off while she spoke freely on the other one. I didn’t think a lot about it. It’s her phone and she has the right to choose how to handle it.

One evening, we were out chilling when we bumped into an old friend of mine. We talked and we laughed. I introduced her to him. They both shook hands. I said proudly, “This is my girlfriend. She’s the one holding me down.” My friend only smiled and we continued chilling. Two to three weeks later, that my friend contacted me on Facebook. He sent a photo and asked, “Is this your girlfriend? The one you introduced to me the other time?” I said, “Yes she’s the one.” He asked, “How long have you known her?” I said “Not too long ago. We started dating three months ago.”

He asked again, “And you think you know her that well?” I said, “We just started so I won’t make that claim. I know she’s half Nigerian and half Ghanaian. That’s all.” My friend said, “She’s a call girl. That day I wasn’t sure of her. You know it’s hard to say things like that so you ought to be 100% sure. I know her and I know the area she operates.” I didn’t want to believe it. Yeah, I had reasons in my mind to believe what my friend was saying but my mind was fighting against all the evidence. I asked him, “So can you take me there. If you can’t, just show me. I will go there myself.”

He gave me all the information I needed. I wanted to see things for myself. The next day, she spent the night with me. She was in her menses. For the next week or so, whenever she closed from the shop, she came to my place. She asked me, “It’s everything alright?” I was boiling with anger but I didn’t want to spoil my chances of getting to see the real evidence. However hard I tried to be ok around her, my suspicions leaked through my actions.

One night she didn’t come to my place. I rushed to the place my friend showed me. I was there around 9pm but I didn’t see her around. I called my friend; “I’m here but she’s not around.” He said, “You’re there too early so you have to wait.” I waited till my legs hurt. I sat in a corner waiting to see her. Mosquitoes started dining on me but I was determined to stay until I see her for myself. I looked at the time. It was 12:45am.” I said, “She isn’t coming today, maybe.” The next day when my friend called to ask if I caught her, I said, “She didn’t come around.” He said, “It’s like that. They don’t always come to the street. Sometimes they get calls from the clients and they meet them. You have to take your time. You’ll see her.”

The next evening, I called her phone first. She said, “I’m in the house.” I went to her house to knock but no response. I went straight to the place again. I stood there all night. She didn’t come around. For a whole week, I was there but she didn’t come around. I called my friend, “Are you sure of what you told me?” He said, “I’m sure. I’ve seen her there a couple of times. It’s her. Just be patient. They have other places they go. If you stay a little bit longer, you will catch her.”

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One night, I was in the corner waiting when I saw a girl getting out of a posh saloon car. I looked at her very well. It was Blessing. Her wig was huge. It covered half of her face but the wig couldn’t hide the way she walks. I bowed my head down in shame. There were about five other girls standing around. A lot of Taxis were packed around too. When a car parks, she would walk to the car, talk to the one in the car for a while and walk slowly away. I didn’t want to create a scene. I walked towards her. Immediately she saw me she turned away. When she realized I was getting closer to her she started walking briskly towards the bar. I screamed, “Blessing…Blessing I’ve seen you. Stop running.” She didn’t mind me. She kept moving. I quickened my steps while calling her phone. Her phone started ringing but she kept going until she entered the bar. That place was her territory. She could do anything to cause harm so I backed out.

When I got home, I called her several times but she didn’t pick. The next day when I went to her house, the lady she was living with told me she had traveled to Nigeria. It took me three days to get her on the phone. She said, “It wasn’t me.” I said, “Your phone rang and I heard it. I was right behind you when you entered the bar.” She said, “How can I be there when I was in Nigeria with my father?” I sent her the photo my friend sent me and told her, “Deal with your conscience.” She responded, “Deal with your miserable life.”

That was the end of us but I keep wondering, what would make a girl like her fall in love or decide to be in a relationship? I don’t understand. Is it greed or just the desire to feel wanted?

–Sule 

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