That evening, I saw his red-hot anger, and for some reason, that pacified me and made the whole experience worth it.
Kwesi was a beautiful black baby right on that first day. He was also a happy baby.
In my small mind, Nana was the only one who loved me. Oh, how she loved me!
He was in tears when we got to the ward. Men don’t often show emotion in hospitals. The hallways are often littered with women or children, wailing about someone’s death or disease. But this man wailed, watching us initiate CPR.
Not every day deep conversations and serious life. And even though you are a successful woman, you don’t make me feel as if you do not need me. You let me know that you do… And for me, it feels really good to be needed, and wanted… Especially if it’s not just for sex or for money. I love that you make me feel wanted in every other way!”
Did we survive tribal prejudice only to break apart for medical reasons? Was this the universes way of telling me that Mawuli and I were not meant to be? Did the average couple go through all this? Or maybe we weren’t the average couple? I didn’t know what was going on!
Looking back, I realize that I suppressed so many negative things… as a coping mechanism, I either completely forgot about it, or pretended it never happened.”
Because I’ve been there and done that and I’m tired. I have fought before – multiple times in fact. Because I was young and in love, and I thought that love alone was enough. But it always ended terribly. And I was always left wondering why I wasn’t good enough.
Mama, to hell with our so-called culture if it’s going to take away my happiness! Isn’t it this same backward culture that wanted you to drink Ol’man’s bath water after he died? Or the same culture that said you had to spend the night with the corpse??
Mama had asked me several times where I was going. “To a work gala with Mawuli” was my response. Because there was no way I could explain to her that I had gone through all those pains and gotten this dressed up just because of a date.