I was nine years old when my family moved to Accra from Kumasi. My father had gotten a job that meant better opportunities for my family. So we were more than happy to move across the country to be with him. Before we moved, I didn’t go to school for one term. We were having financial difficulties so my mum suggested I forfeit my first term in primary five. I was young but I understood the sacrifice I had to make. I thought this meant I would repeat primary four but thankfully it didn’t happen that way.

My father enrolled me in a private school in our new neighborhood, and I did well in the entrance exams. That’s how I joined the primary five class in the second term. The first person I noticed when I entered the class was Kwame. I remember thinking, “This boy is handsome. I want to be his friend.”

Kwame was not just a pretty face. He was also very smart. At the end of the school term, I topped the class alongside him and another boy. I admired that about him. And it seems academic excellence was the only thing we had in common. The rest were differences that made us complement each other. For instance, Kwame was shy while I was very outgoing. I did the talking and he did the listening. So our friendship worked perfectly well.

We lived in the same neighborhood so we formed a study group. Some of our mates who also lived close to us joined the group. There were six of us and I was the only girl. At ten years old, I could write really well. So one day I attempted a letter. Of course, the letter was addressed to Kwame. I can’t remember the letter word for word, but I can sum it up to say;

“Dear Kwame,

I think you are very handsome.

– Abena.”

My heart was in my throat when I delivered it to him. I had no idea how he would react, so I expected the worst. However, he smiled at me after reading it and wrote a response to it. That is how we began exchanging letters. I used to keep my letters inside the brown papers we used to wrap our books, to keep them from getting old and dirty.

I still remember the day Kwame wrote to tell me he loved me. I remember it vividly because the day he gave me the letter, I couldn’t finish reading it before I left our group study session. So I held it in my hand with the intention to read it before I get home. In my excitement, I forgot that my dad would be sitting in front of our room, waiting for me to get home. He does that all the time.

Anyway, when I saw him I panicked and dropped the letter on the floor. I convinced myself that he wouldn’t see it and that I would wake up at dawn to sweep the house and pick it up. I woke up at dawn to sweep but it was nowhere to be found. I searched the entire compound but I couldn’t find it. With the kind of relationship I had with my father, I was convinced that he saw me drop the letter and took it after I left. I wanted to be sure of my suspicions so I looked for it for three days, when I didn’t find it I went to my father.

We have always had a transparent relationship so I was not afraid to ask, “Dad, did you see something fall from my books the other day?” He looked at me for a while and asked, “What is this thing you are looking for?” I shrugged, “Oh, it’s just a note.” He said he hadn’t seen it. At that point, I began to panic. “How can I write a response to the letter when I have not finished reading it?” I wondered. It didn’t occur to me to ask Kwame to rewrite the letter.

A day after I spoke to my father he called me into the bedroom of our Chamber and Hall apartment. He asked me who Kwame was to me. Now here is where my relationship with my father comes into play. You see, I have an elder sister who was conceived when my mother was in JSS and my father was in SSS. My mother had to quit school because of teenage pregnancy and my father had to quit school and work so he would provide for my mum. Their experience made them do things differently with us. They were not strict. Rather, they educated us on the dangers of sex at an early age and kept an open line of communication with us. We never felt the need to hide things from them as a result of this.

So when my father asked me about my relationship with Kwame, I told him everything. I let him understand how special Kwame was to me. “The note I am looking for is from him,” I added. It was then that he smiled, went into his pockets, took it out, and showed it to me. I confirmed that it was what I was looking for and he gave it to me. He then sat me down and explained that my feelings are normal. He said it could either last for life or it could be fleeting. “Whatever you do, don’t let him touch you in your lady parts. I don’t want you to bring shame to our family, okay?” I nodded and mumbled “Okay”.

After my talk with my dad, Kwame and I became inseparable. We did everything together. Our classmates knew we were together and always teased us. We dated from primary six and stuck together till we got to SHS. He went to a boys’ school in Accra, while I went to a school in the central region where my grandmother was a teacher. The distance did not kill our love. We exchanged letters whenever we were apart, and spent time together during school breaks.

Until one of our vacations, Kwame and I had done nothing intimate. Not even kissed. The most we ever did all those years was held hands when we walked and got to a place where it was a bit dark. But during that fateful vacation, something changed. I had gone to see him the minute I got home. He was alone at home but I wasn’t alarmed. We did some catching up and after a few minutes, he asked me to sit on him. I did it no questions asked. Then he asked me to start moving as if I was dancing on his lap. When I did that, I realized he was hard down there.

Then he asked me to stand briefly and I did with my back turned to him. He then took his thing out of his shorts and asked me to hold it. I stretched my hand back and held it. I couldn’t look at him because I felt so self-conscious and shy. The minute I held his thing, we heard his dad coming in. I quickly moved away from Kwame, walked up to greet his dad, and ran all the way home.

I was shaking and very confused but a part of me enjoyed what we did. This scared me. Especially when I thought about my parents’ advice and my grandmother’s plea to me and my sister that we should not do to her what our mother did. I thought of everyone counting on me and decided that what happened with Kmade wouldn’t happen again.

I didn’t go back to see him, and he also avoided me throughout that vacation and even the next one. One day I was there when his younger sisters came to see me. I mentioned in passing that I am no longer with their brother and they were very shocked. When Kwame heard the news he came looking for me. “Abena, how can you say we’ve broken up? I love you.” I also loved him but I was scared. So I told him, “I don’t think what we have is love. Let’s just save each other the drama and end things.” He was hurt but he agreed for us to be friends.

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We found ourselves in the same university and hang out a few times. Our programs did not put us on the same schedule but Kwame always found time to see me. After all those years, I was still in love with him but I was too afraid to admit it. So I insisted we were just friends.

Along the line, he also started dating someone. I graduated and left campus, and went on to do my national service. After a year, he also graduated and I attended his graduation ceremony. That was when he told me he had broken up with the lady he was dating. I had also been served hot heartbreak by then but I still swallowed my feelings for Kwame.

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Later, I got the opportunity to travel out of the country, and surprisingly, he also got the chance to travel abroad. We are in different countries but we still keep in touch. He met someone, got married and now they have a son together. Although I am unmarried, I am in a loving relationship.

After all these years and the changes we have gone through, I believe there’s a part of me that still loves him. I have never told him and I never will. Once in a while, we would chat and catch up but that’s all. His wedding was beautiful. He held it in Ghana, and all our friends back home were in attendance. I too would have been present if I was back home. I would have cheered him on and celebrated with him, knowing that I will always love him. And somehow, I am certain that a part of him will always love me. I am after all, his Abena.

#MyFirstRelationship

—Abena

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