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When she was coming to Accra, she called me. We were friends in the village before I traveled to Accra. Whenever I went back to the village and we met, I told her to do everything and move to Accra if she wanted to do well in life. She didn’t go to the university after SHS. She learned fashion and later added hair and makeup artistry. She went back to the village to charge pennies for a job people charged arms and legs for in Accra.

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God being so good, her aunt asked her to move to Accra so she could give her the front store of her house to use to start her business. I was very happy for her. I remember that night, we stayed on the phone until the cock crowed. I couldn’t hide my happiness, and she couldn’t hide her hope of a better life once she got to Accra.

When she got here, everything went against her plans. Her aunt who brought her to Accra had already rented out the space she promised her and later told her to work from home for a year. The one who rented the shop rented it for a year, so once the rent expired, she would ask the tenant to leave so she could take over the space.

She was hurt and disappointed, but I encouraged her to try. “How would they know my work if I work from my bedroom?”

I went to see her room. It was so tiny her bed was even struggling to fit in there. She was my friend. I was part of the reason she moved to Accra, so I asked her to come and live with me instead. I was on the better side of town, and my place was better suited for her job.

That’s how Edna moved from her aunt’s place to come and live with me. My boyfriend had rented the space for me for the future when we would get married. It was a three-bedroom house close to a hostel, so I figured she could get the students as customers. She was elated when she got to my place. Her dreams soared. Her dead hope resurrected, and she started working immediately.

My boyfriend was then in Dubai. He knew everything because I told him about it—how I wanted to help Edna find her own feet because she was a childhood friend. He was in Dubai on a business trip. That was what he was doing as a job. He traveled to China, Dubai, Japan, and other Asian countries to import items to sell. We had only one year left to marry.

Edna started operating in my hall while I went to work. Because in the evening I would be home and resting, I told her to close at 6 PM so we could have the evening to ourselves. That didn’t happen. As late as 10 PM, Edna would be fixing a customer’s hair, nails, or doing makeup for them. I didn’t mind too much because I thought she was making enough money quickly so she could get her own place.

Because of her, my boyfriend couldn’t visit the way he used to whenever he was in town. He wasn’t happy, but he understood my need to help a friend. Seven months later, Edna was still with me, doing things the way she was doing. One evening, I told her I was getting close to marriage, so she should start getting her own place since she had saved enough by that time.

She didn’t pay rent; she didn’t pay bills; I bought the food she ate, so she should have saved enough to at least get a shop. When I told her, she agreed and told me she had already discussed it with some of the students, and they were finding her a place. I told my boyfriend the same thing.

Alex is a calm guy. He didn’t even have the time to argue or fight, but he started telling me—actually warning me—to kick my friend out since she was delaying our plans.

Alex traveled to Germany and didn’t call me for a week. My calls to him were never returned. I was worried, so I spoke to his mom. His mom told me her son had told her that I didn’t listen to him, so the relationship could not work. I was like, “When? When did I not listen to him? When did I ever go against his will?”

So I sent him a voice note, crying and begging him to talk to me. When he called, he said, “I got you a place so we could marry this year, but you gave the place to your friend to use as a salon. What should I tell you again before you kick her out?” I asked him to give me a week.

I planned to give Edna money to pay for a new place, but when I spoke to her, she said she had already paid for a place and would move soon. I asked when; she didn’t tell me. I asked where; she said she would take me there soon.

A year later, Edna was still in the house, and my relationship with Alex was hanging by a thread. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was no longer listening to Alex. The last time we talked about Edna, I shouted at him: “What do you want me to do? Kick her out when she doesn’t have anywhere to go? How inhuman. I can’t. Come and kick her out yourself.”

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He shouted back, “I paid for the place. You two should leave before I return, or else it will be bloody.”

Edna was there. She heard the fight. She asked what was happening, and I told her everything. She broke down crying. “I’m sorry you have to go through this because of me. I’ll go; don’t worry. I’ll leave.” I told her, “You’re not going anywhere until the place you paid for is ready.”

One dawn, I felt like a shadow was kneeling on my chest. It was so heavy I couldn’t breathe. It felt like a dream until I woke up. Edna was not sleeping by my side. “She must be in the washroom,” I thought—until I heard whispers coming from the hall.

PART 2 COMES AT EXACTLY 8AM TODAY

—Afrakoma

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