My mother was going to fetch water when my father snuck up on her, held her against her will, and forced himself on her. She did not know what was happening until it had happened. He soothed her afterward, speaking of love and other beautiful things he knew nothing about. My mother, who was stuck between pain and shame yielded to my father’s soothing. She believed he was so overcome by his love for her that he had to have her.

She accepted to be his although she did not fully understand what it meant to belong to a man. I am sure she believed it would be less painful to give herself to him than to have him take her. This is how my mother and father became lovers.

She was still in J.S.S when she became heavy with child. “You have brought disgrace to our household,” her parents said. Nobody wants to have a spoilt child under their roof. So they threw her out. She didn’t have any choice but to move in with the man responsible for her pregnancy. According to my mum, my father’s family despised her. “Why should we be saddled with you when your own family has rejected you?” They often asked her. They starved her, made her go to the farm, and do other tedious chores in her condition.

She delivered a set of twins who did not live beyond one week. Although she had lost her children, my father’s family did not ease up on their maltreatment of her. She also did not have anywhere else to go so she endured everything they put her through.

A couple of months after the loss of the twins she conceived again. This child too did not survive. You would think she would have given up on childbirth after those two losses but she did not. Or maybe she just did not have access to contraceptives. Because, after the loss of that baby, she conceived me. The fact that I am writing this means I survived. After my birth, she lost another baby. After that baby, she had my brother. Like me, he lived. And it’s been the two of us going through this journey called life.

When my brother was about a year old, my mother left for Accra in search of greener pastures. My father also left for Manso Yawkroom. So my brother and I lived with our paternal grandparents for a while. Life was not easy at all. We were amongst kin but we were treated like dirt. Soon enough they got tired of us and called our father to come for us, and he did.

My dad went through a lot of women, looking for the ideal stepmother for us. None of them had the heart and patience to deal with two children so they easily left. At some point, I even had to go live with my father’s friend so his wife would take care of me. My dad didn’t know how to deal with a girl child so he needed all the help he could get. And the woman also needed someone to help her sell at her shop. It was a win-win situation for everyone involved.

The woman had mood swings. One minute she would be cold. The next minute she would be hot-tempered. Then another minute she would be warm. I couldn’t function properly in that environment so I ran back to my dad. There, I continued my life with my family, we lived as best as we could until my dad brought home another woman. She was a young woman with two sons. She was exactly the mother we needed.

She took good care of us. She would go to the market and buy us clothes and shoes. She fed us properly. Her presence in our lives was good for us. For the first time since our mum left, my brother and I were happy. Soon enough, Aunty Rose moved in with us and we became a family. She didn’t bring her sons along so it was just the four of us. I remember feeling frustrated when I woke up one day to see that she was gone. My dad wouldn’t tell me where she went so I set out to look for her.

I found her in her apartment looking heartbroken. She told me, “I am sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you kids. Your father asked me to leave and I had no choice. Take good care of yourself and your brother okay? You will be fine.” That day I cried from her house till I got home. I remember begging my father when I got home, “Daddy, please bring Aunty Rose back. We need her.” All my dad’s friends stepped in and pleaded her case, “Bring Rose back. Can’t you see that she is good to your children?”

My dad listened to all our pleas and took her back. Shortly after their reconciliation, they got married. I was so happy to have a new mum. She was also happy to be a part of our family. She brought her two sons to come to live with us so we would all be one big happy family. And we were indeed, a big family. But we were not happy. I think something inside Aunty Rose shifted when my dad married her. The sweet and loving mother we knew transformed into a mean and abusive stepmonster.

I could take her abuse but I couldn’t take it when she extended it to my brother, so I always fought her in his defense. This brought about chaos in our home. She complained to my dad that I was disrespectful but the man was too busy working to fend for us, so he did not concern himself with the politics of our home. We lived chaotically like that until my mother visited us one day.

I was so happy to see her that I took her to school and introduced her to my teachers. My teachers marveled when they saw her. They couldn’t believe we came out of someone as beautiful as her. My teachers counseled her, “How can a beautiful woman like you leave her children in this village to be maltreated? Please take them with you when you are going back. These children need their mother.” By then I was thirteen years and in JHS 1, yet I couldn’t read. The only thing I could write was my name. Based on this, my mother was convinced that the best thing to do was to take us to Accra with her.

My father did not agree for us to leave but my mum fought him and won. So we came to Accra and started life with our mother and stepfather. I didn’t know anything but I joined the JHS class, regardless. Come and see how my mates teased me. They said I spoke like a villager. Our headmaster had to step in and warn everybody to stop mocking me. I was happy when he did that. It created a safe environment for me to learn.

By some miracle, I managed to pass my BECE and progressed to SHS. If I thought JHS was bad, SHS was worse. I still couldn’t read and write properly so I was known as a dumb girl. I was often dismissed and ignored by everyone so I kept to myself. I just wanted to avoid being a joke. But there was this guy in my class who was drawn to me. Amos liked the fact that I was quiet and stayed out of trouble.

This guy became my best friend. He stuck to my side when everyone shunned me. While everyone called me dumb he told me, “You are very smart. You just need a good teacher.” So he became my teacher. He took me through everything the teachers taught with patience and kindness. He motivated me when I felt I couldn’t study anymore. He made school comfortable for me.

By and by, I made it to my third year. The school said I wasn’t ready to write WASSCE with my mates so they repeated me. My mother and I couldn’t bear it. She came to the school and talked to the school authorities but they insisted that I had to repeat the class. So my mum took me to a private school. I registered for WASSCE over there but I failed. I wrote the exams the next year but I failed that one too. I was determined to prove everyone who called me dumb wrong, so I did not give up. And God being so good I passed on my third attempt.

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I am currently studying public administration at the University of Ghana. As for my younger brother, he is nothing like me. He is very brilliant so he excelled in school. He is getting ready to go to the university to study medicine. My dad washed his hands off us thirteen years ago when my mum took us from the village. She has done everything to provide for us since then. She has practically sold everything she owns for the sake of my education. My stepdad didn’t stick around when my mum brought us to live with them. I guess he didn’t bargain for the responsibilities that accompanied us.

I’m still not intelligent but God has brought me this far. Even today, there are some words I can’t even mention and spell. But I am trying my best to complete school. Now that I know how important education is, I am giving it my all. When I have kids one day, I will give them a better foundation than I had.

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On Mother’s Day, I thought about all the sacrifices my mother has made for us and decided to share this story to honor her. Ours is not a typical traditional family. We didn’t start life with our mother in our lives, but she has been an angel to us from the moment she took us from that village. We would have rotted away if we had continued to live with my dad and my stepmother. It is my prayer that God will preserve her so she will enjoy the fruit of her labor.

As for Amos, he is still in my life. He is no longer my tutor but he is close to my heart. He is now boyfriend. And we are so in love. We are hoping and praying that things work out for us so we will get married soon. I am looking forward to coming back here with an update that is filled with happiness and good news.

— Akua

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