Akaa & Alima VI

It’s me again guys! Back with a new post this week… Two posts in the space of less than a month. Where are my accolades please? Lol!

If you’re in Ghana, I wish you an exceptional long weekend! No matter your affiliation, please go to the polls, and vote wisely, and let’s maintain peace in the country!

Cheers to a great weekend!

Love,

Elise


Teju drove Talata’s dad to the airport. She felt as if she was in a daze the whole time. She already had quite a hangover, and the morning’s happenings had left her a bit perplexed.

She had never even seen him drive before. Was it against any of the agency’s rules? She hoped not. 

He came back after about forty-five minutes. She was in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep.

He came in giggling.

“Apparently I have to buy some cows.” 

He got on the bed and grabbed her. She had on a large brown T-shirt.

“I feel like I just won my first part in a TV drama!” He had contagious laughter. She couldn’t help but laugh too. She laughed out of relief. She laughed hard.

It would have been an entirely different situation if Teju had been someone else. Or if he hadn’t figured to pull this acting stunt. They definitely wouldn’t have been laughing at this time.

Her father would probably have started one of his tirades in Frafra. He would have ranted and raved for hours and tried to evoke her mother’s ghost. She would have been in tears halfway there, gotten defensive and spoken her mind. And he would have left, clearly disappointed that he had raised a ‘pagan‘, insubordinate daughter, and screaming that he was ready to go to his grave and be reunited with his wife. 

She was so glad none of that had happened. So glad.

It was when Teju started kissing her face that she realised she had actually been in tears.

“Hey, shhh…what’s wrong, baby?” It made her cry even more. 

She had always wanted to do right by her father, but even with all her success, it seemed that without a husband and a brood of children, he would never be proud! It hurt her. She did a good job at repressing the hurt. But this morning’s incidents had broken the dam. She sobbed for a good ten minutes. And when it looked as if she was finally stopping, memories of her mother and how she missed her flooded her mind and came with it fresh tears.

He held her and rubbed her back the whole time, occasionally stroking her hair. She fell asleep that way. He dozed off a bit too. He was woken up by her unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest. 

“Talata are you okay?”

She mumbled something he didn’t quite hear. He held her hands up and looked her in the eyes. She had beautiful eyes. Her eyes were dark. He turned her over and kissed her. Her hands moved to unbuckle his belt. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off before he dozed off. He took them off and kept his shorts on.

“Baby girl… hold on.”

He took her hands away from his crotch and pinned them above her head. He kissed her slowly. She kissed him back. He could tell she wanted more. But it wasn’t time yet. She was breathing faster than he’d ever heard her… he leaned back to get a clear view of her. To make sure she was okay. 

“Teju…” she moaned. 

He kissed his way down to her crotch without undressing her. She still had on the T-shirt. He released her hands and she made to take off her shirt. He held them up again. 

She was in some sort of a rush. He wasn’t.

He knew what she needed, and it was not going to be fast. 

He planned to show her a really good time. Very slowly. It felt like the right thing to do, after the kind of morning she had had. 

And when he was done making love to her, she held on to him in a way that she usually never did. It felt really good.

“Thank you for helping me with the father situation earlier. You have no idea…” her words trailed off and she sighed.

“And thank you for this too… really.”

He knew what it felt like dealing with fathers. Talata was a good woman. Hardworking, self-confident, and very sweet. She had multiple insecurities that she hid almost flawlessly. She hid them behind her work, her assertiveness, and even more work.

It was rather interesting. He hardly met lazy women. But in her industry, Talata really was doing the most.  

Before he lost his parents, his mother had been an industrious multitasker, taking care of him and his two brothers. She had a provision store in the front of their house, sold some fruits in the market square, worked as a head porter when necessary, and after all that, went to night school to better her English. She did her very best. 

His father on the other hand was a weird man. He was more in tune with his Nigerian side, and hardly spent any time with them in Ghana. He did send money once in a while though. Teju remembered his older brother wondering if the man had married another woman in Nigeria. He was just a very strange man who never saw things the way anyone saw them.

When they died, the Nigerian part of the family blamed Teju and his older brother for the accident. 

For putting pressure on their father to visit them in Ghana. Their youngest brother had been on the bus with them when the accident happened. He was just about eight years old and was only seeing his father for the first time since he was one. Nobody survived that crash.

His older brother carried him away right after the funeral. And it wasn’t as if their mother had much, yet he’d always wondered what could have happened if they’d stayed back and operated the shop.

He wondered if indeed the accident was their fault. He wondered if his relationship with his father would ever have gotten any better. 

He’d been halfway through High School when it happened. His brother sent him to the agency, where he was able to finish his High School Diploma, and then finish an online university degree.  It all felt like decades ago. 

Talata stirred in his arms.

“Do you even know the kind of hassle it is to bag a Frafra woman?”

“Humour me.” He giggled.

“First there’s the 3 cows you’ll have to buy, but I think that comes later. You’ll start with some tobacco, then kola nuts, then a guinea fowl, then I think there has to be about three or four visits? Maybe even more. To be sure that you’re serious about her. Each visit has to be with a gift – kola and tobacco are a constant. Then once they certify you’re serious, they’ll ask her if she’s sure she wants to marry you. If she is, her brothers will come with her to your house… I think they said that was so that if there’s some future argument someday, you cannot say she came into the marriage all by herself. She was led there by responsible men.”

“Here I was thinking the Ashantis were stressful!” they both laughed

“I’m not even done! After this, there’s more back and forth. I think he has to visit a few more times with guinea fowls and all those other gifts. Then there’s an important day when a chicken is killed as a witness. I think it’s called ‘Nu’nua’ and it’s supposed to validate the marriage, so it doesn’t end up in misfortune.”

“Wow!”

“And then there’s the cows, of course, and then seven sheep, to officially seal the marriage.”

“There’s also another cow after you have a baby.”

They were both quiet for a while.

“Have you considered remarrying?”

“I don’t think the social construct works for me. It requires so many things from me that I don’t even know if I can give. And I don’t think any man will be okay with my job and the hours I put into it. Eventually he’ll want more from me. I don’t know if I can give more.”

“Would you be willing to try?”

“Honestly, I wish I could. I enjoyed that honeymoon period that lasted barely two years. I thought he understood me, and I thought it would work. He was sweet and caring and wouldn’t make too much of a fuss about my late hours, and incessant working. I tried to make time for him. Every weekend, I was all his, no matter what. And Fridays I made sure to be home by 5pm. Then the petty quarrels started. Why did I use so much money on some item… it was my own money, and I don’t even know how he found out the costs. Why didn’t I tell him before making some purchase he considered outrageous? Why didn’t I let him know I wanted to do so and so? Why did my dress ride so high up my thigh? Why did I never do domestic things for him – cook or clean or whatever – I don’t even know how to fry an egg properly. Why did I never seem to need him for anything? Yaada yaada yaada!”

“It went on and on and on. And I agree at some point I started to do a lot of things just to spite him, because I had gotten sick and tired.”

“I don’t want any more of that in my life right now. I think I’m in a good place. Maybe I’m the one that’s not good at making a marriage work, and that’s fine. I’ve come to terms with my inadequacies.”

“So, at this rate, it looks like I’m going to have to stage a marriage. Just to make my dad happy before he dies. I’m tired of his rants. And really, it hurts a lot that for him, marriage and children should be the ultimate goal that will make him proud. As a person, I should be considered a sum of all the many small relationships I’m in. Family, friends, work, etc. and the actual tangible things I’ve achieved – and those are so so many, if I say so myself.”

“Okay… let’s do it then.”

“Do what?”

“Marry me, Talata.”


Ato and his wife were having dinner at his parents’. It was some sort of Sunday evening ritual they had. 

Again, he brought up his argument about the issue of suspension from the church.

“Ato. You see this is what your generation needs to understand. We’re not trying to play a shame and blame game. God disciplines those He loves, and it is indeed a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Too many of them seem to think that the church leadership is out to get you. That is not it at all! We’re here to guide, and lead – by example and by teaching, and then to correct when necessary. A lot of the youth sin, and blatantly defile the name of God.”

“If someone sins and truly genuinely repents, they don’t hide their sins. True penitence will cause them to confess their sin and be forgiven.”

His mother cut in.

“I understand if you say for instance that we should not generalise suspensions or punishments. I agree that they should be dealt with in a case-by-case situation and should be done in love. That I agree. The church has work to do in that regard. There should be proper follow up to ensure the person remains in the faith and grows and learns from their mistake. I stand by that.”

“But to scrap it out completely would be wrong. It would mean everyone would do whatever they wanted, openly showing their sins, not being sorry. It would drive the Holy Spirit away from the church. The church has compromised so much and continues to compromise!”

“Recently one of the elders was even telling me about one of these churches having their members go kissing in front of the congregation when the bans of marriage are announced – What is that? We might as well lay a bed right there for them to finish it all right there! But I digress. That is a discussion for another day”

“Ato, if we all saw things the way God saw them, the church and the world at large would be such a different place!”

“Remember Eli’s sons and their many sins? Remember how they caused the Glory of God to depart from Israel? And how Israel had compromised so much that they only realised the glory had departed after the Ark of Gods covenant was seized ? That is what will happen to the church very very soon if we’re not careful. Even some church leaders are playing the fool, and it should not be so!”

Ato didn’t know what to say anymore. He’d prepared arguments and planned what to say. But all of a sudden, he didn’t know what else to say.


Alima woke up around 3am feeling unwell. She couldn’t place a finger on the problem exactly, but she felt she was about to be ill. Akaa lay right next to her, snoring lightly.

He had come to bed really late. Some deal was not going well or something of that sort, and he’d spent long hours on the phone and in different meetings trying to fix it.  

He had nothing on, and his dark skin was shimmery, from the moonlight. They hadn’t drawn the curtains, so the moonlight made the room a bit bright. The breeze from outside was a quite cool. The AC gave her a stuffy nose after a while, so they never left it on for too long. Instead they kept the windows open. She looked at his bare chest, and then at his face, and her chest was getting a little bit tight.

Get it together, Alima! You’ve only known this man only a few months now. Just three days alone with him, and you’re ready to risk it all?

She had realised it was getting terrible. This was the number one rule they were given at the agency. Do not fall in love with a client. Request a different one if you realise you might. 

For the first time in a long time, she felt very confused. She thought about her life. How little she’d lived and how much she wanted more. She wanted so much more. Wanted to see her mother, wanted to ask her what was going on. How were the men treating her?  She missed her. So much!

She sighed. 

“Hamamat, I miss you.” She said under her breath. And I wish you were here. 

I’m falling in love with the wrong man. And I need it to stop. Please make it stop! 

She tossed and turned for close to an hour before finally falling asleep. 


When Akaa woke up she was fast asleep. He remembered her waking up sometime just after he came to bed. He’d been so tired he could barely even open his eyes. But she had been awake for a while. It was unusual for her to remain sleeping this long. 

He had some early phone calls to make, after calling Celine and speaking to the kids. 

He cooked breakfast and then got some work done. 

Lina was still not up.  

Sometime close to noon, he had most of his work done, and decided to go wake her up. 

She was drenched in sweat and her skin was hot, yet she was shivering as if the room was cold. Her eyes were slightly open, but she was not saying anything. She looked at him as if she was in a daze. 

“Lina, what’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t feel so good.”

Akaa was terrified. He already had he medical history as part of being able to take her out of the agency, and there was nothing significant on it. She was healthy.

“Maybe it’s malaria. I don’t remember the last time I had that.”

He needed to get her to a hospital quickly. But there was an agency doctor they were supposed to call in these situations. 

He found the number and dialled. They spoke a few minutes, and he said he could get there in about an hour. In the meantime, Akaa was to either get her under a cold shower, or use a cold cloth to sponge her, and just keep her comfortable.

“In case I die, or something happens, just know that I fell in love with you. I love you Akaa, even though I know it’s against the rules. I’m sorry.”

It scared Akaa even more.

“Lina you’re not dying. And you will be fine. Nothing is happening, and I love you too.”


Germany was everything Adzo dreamt of and even more. 

Most of the people in Køln seemed nice, and the hotel had multiple amenities to keep her occupied.

She typically slept in when Anto went for his meetings in the mornings, and then woke up to have lunch and go sightseeing. Then he would join her to do something fun after. It felt like a dream. She had the freedom to buy whatever she wanted, no matter what it cost. Not that she wanted much. She was happy just being there, seeing all the sites, doing all the fun things. 

On the weekend, they visited neighbouring countries as well. She ate fancy chocolates in Belgium, and stayed two nights in Amsterdam. They visited the Red-Light District there. He told her about it even before they went, but it felt surreal when they actually got there. The smell of weed hung in the whole area, and they were offered brownies in multiple shops. They tried some of those and went on to browse different sex shops. It felt so weird that this was common culture. The women in the glass windows were the final straw for Adzo. 

This could have been me if I were born in this country. Could I possibly have paraded around this way? What are they paid? What are their actual lives like?

“I don’t know if I could ever do this.” 

That night, they had some more of the weed-laden goodies just before they got to their hotel room. It felt like an out of body experience for both of them. 

And that night, the sex was like nothing they’d ever tried! 


Akaa & Alima V

It’s the birthday edition of Akaa & Alima….!! (Insert dancing emoji, please… lol)

As most of you already know, it was my birthday last month! Yes I’m finally 21 haha! I have so much to be thankful for! So much to be grateful to God for. So much going on… And by the grace of God, I can say, “The lines have indeed fallen for me in pleasant places!”

So cheers to greater things ahead, I’ll be sure to remind you all before my next 21st birthday, lol!

Since this part was supposed to come out on my birthday and couldn’t, it had to come out today, on my best friend’s birthday!

Happy Birthday Lois! I love you!

PS. Please don’t forget to pre-order Perspectives here: https://elisetirza.com/whats-new/

And if you missed any of the parts, find them here!

Akaa & Alima, Akaa & Alima II, Akaa & Alima III, Akaa & Alima IV


Character Line Up

(Because as usual, I have too many people involved, and a lot of us tend to get kind of confused!)

Ato – A pastor that frequents the Agency.

The Agency – A discreet agency for high class escorts.

Akaa – Rich businessman, who frequents the Agency. Has a preference for Alima.

Dionne – Akaa’s wife. A beautiful petite Pharmacist.

Alima/Lina – Young girl, high class escort at the Agency.

Naana/Nina – Scarred young girl with a son, born out of rape. High class escort at the Agency

Adzo/Anna – Young woman, with past sexual traumas. High class escort at the Agency.

Dr. Daniel Anto – Orthopaedic Surgeon, who frequents the Agency.

Celine – Anto’s wife. A constantly nagging Caterer.

Talaata – Divorced multimillionaire who frequents the Agency. Her preference is younger men.

Teju – Young man, high class escort at the Agency


It all felt natural. Waking up to a man cooking her breakfast. Alima imagined this to be what marriage looked like for a minute few. A very minute and lucky few.

He was frying some eggs when she went downstairs.

“How do you like your oatmeal? And I have some Crunch Haven Granola also… best Granola there is if you ask me, and also Some Baawa Tom Brown… really great stuff! Whichever one you want, I’ll make.”

She was giggling, because he looked like an idiot offering her food.

“I’m a Waakye in the morning kind of girl. But I’ll eat your eggs.”

“Let me order you some then. I can cook you jollof in the afternoon…”

How was he so adorable? Is this what he did for his wife?

“So would it be weird to ask about your wife?” He seemed to pause from frying the eggs for a bit. They had been told to never ask clients about their spouses. Or their real lives.

“What exactly do you want to know?”

“What’s she like? Do you love her? Do you still have sex with her? Is she naggy? Am I just a distraction? Does she know about this?”

If she was light-skinned she would be as red as a beet! Her face was hot, and she was embarrassed. What was she thinking? A few months his mistress and she was going crazy!

Why on earth am I asking such stupid questions? Of course I’m just a distraction? What am I expecting, that he’ll disown her and then come get me?

Get it together Alima!

“Hahaha that was just a joke… please don’t answer any of that. I get silly once in a while… and you should see the look on your face!”

It was an awkward situation, yet somehow he managed to salvage it.

“One day, we will talk about her…right now I want to feed you… feed you food, then feed you… other things, that can satisfy you even more than food can.”


Adzo had motion sickness. It was her first time on any flight, and she hadn’t anticipated this. It was an eight- hour direct flight to Köln. 

She’d had a series of lectures prior to the trip. The Agency had special trainings for any of the girls that needed to travel. They were going for 2 weeks. She’d been given some spending money, and a visa had been arranged for exactly 2 weeks for her.  There were rules to follow.

The airport in Accra was her first awe. Of course she’d been taught to pretend all these were luxuries she was used to. She looked like that first class seat she was in was what she’d been in over and over again. She fit the bill of classy madam going to Germany for a weekend because she was tired of the heat in Ghana! 

Anto called for the flight attendants to give her some specific meds, which calmed her rumbling tummy, so she slept half the flight. He was always great company! It felt nice that he was quite worried about her. For a minute, she imagined being married to this man, casually re-arranging her schedule to accompany him on a work trip. 

That’s what she was going to do this trip… pretend she was the wife. 

She had hopes of marriage in the future. Didn’t know if she wanted any children, but a companion was definitely something she wanted. 

She slept almost all afternoon in the hotel when they arrived. It was a plush hotel that she intended to explore completely!

When she woke up, he was working on a presentation.

“Anna… I asked room service to bring you some tea… just have a few sips, and maybe sleep a bit more? You’ll feel a lot better in the morning.”

She didn’t want to nap. She wanted him. She wanted him in the bed at just that moment. The thought of using this completely foreign place to make love turned her on.

She wasn’t really a shy person, yet she couldn’t tell him.

She undressed and took a quick shower, and walked to the desk he was working at.

In less than five minutes, she’d succeeded in getting him into the bed.


It was too early for anyone to be at her door. Talata had a little too much to drink the night before, and was already slightly hangover. A car honking at her gate at 8am on a Saturday morning was definitely not one of the things she had planned for!

“Madam, please your father is at the gate.” It was her security man calling the house to inform her.

She swore under her breath.

How was her father there? When did he come to Accra? Was he ill? Why of all days was he here today?

Teju was still fast asleep. His rich skin looking even more delicious this morning. She didn’t know if she should wake him up, or just let him sleep. She needed to let him know not to get out.

But he was tired. He’d been excessively thorough with her last night. She smiled despite herself, just thinking about it.

She left him sleeping, dressed up, and run outside to meet her father.

“Mba… hu etila bin kala?”

First mistake. It already annoyed him that her Frafra was abysmal. As a child, she only spoke it when she realised she was in trouble with him. As if to appease him. And he had caught on a long time ago. He seemed already annoyed, and he could tell she was guilty of something.

“I have called you so many times in the past few days.”

She caught Teju’s boxers in the corner of her eyes. It was in the couch. Where they’d made love before moving to the…

“Talata, are you even listening to me?”

“Of course Mba! This past week has just been so busy, I don’t even know where my phone is. And my assistant said nothing about any calls from you.”

“Every day assistant this, assistant that. I cannot call my daughter directly anymore? Your mother must be turning in her grave. I’m glad she went first. It would have broken her heart to have to book an appointment to meet with her daughter!”

It was really funny how her father still had this much of an effect over her. She was over forty, for crying out loud! He was one of those fanatic Catholics. Strong in faith, and even more resilient in religion. He had almost cut her off after her divorce. Because a Christian woman does not get divorced. “You are married to your work, how can you marry man?” 

She had to get him out before Teju woke up. Or it would be a disaster!

“Daddy, what’s happening in Accra?”

“I cannot visit my daughter? Talata, I am alone in the North. You refuse to visit. The least I can do is visit once in a while?”

To her stark mortification, Teju walked in holding pancakes. “Baby, pancakes?”

At least, he was fully clothed.

“Daddy, it’s not exactly what it looks like.” She had no idea what to say.

“Papa, meet Teju. He is the man I talked to you about. We’re planning to get married. He came in this morning to make me breakfast, because I’ve been so busy I forget to even eat.”

Almost suddenly, he seemed to light up.

“Teju. Sounds like a Nigerian name.”

“My grandparents were Nigerian Sir. But my parents, God rest their souls, were both from Ghana.”

Even Talata did not know that.

“Sir, I will set the table, please join us for pancakes. We cannot have a good conversation without food.”

Was Teju suddenly some sort of actor?

“We have been planning a trip to the North sir. We will definitely make it once this work phase goes through for Talata.”

Her father seemed pleased. Somehow Teju had fixed the situation without knowing exactly what the situation was.

Talata felt like she was living in a movie. Had she missed something?


Ato… you know you should never have been a pastor. Coming from a lineage of pastors does not compel you to be one.

This was the constant battle in his head. A constant fight he had in his mirror. It was the battle in his head right now as his father tried to explain things to him.

He loved God. And he was grateful to Him. Because He was the source of the family riches wasn’t He? The church was how they lived, and they lived very well!

But he loved women too.  Settling on just one was his parent’s idea. Marriage had never been a thing for him. Why stick with one, when you know full well you cannot live with just one?

He had been discreet about his relationships in school. So even though he had been a youth leader at his Father’s church, he had multiple women lined up in different places all the time.

The church work was not for him. He had tried to reason it out with his parents so many times. It didn’t seem to make sense to them.

So he did the work they wanted. And got his knacks on the side too.

He only got introduced to the Agency, and surprisingly, it was from blackmailing one of his father’s lead Elders. He claimed he had stopped, but

So in the past six months, he had tried four different women. All beautiful. All very sensual. The agency explained to him that he could always choose a new one. If he ever felt the need to settle on one too, that was an option. He doubted he’d settle on one. The point was to have multiple.

“Ato. We suspend people so that others will not learn from their sins. So that they will openly repent of their sins, and then change their ways!”

“Daddy, the only thing you’re succeeding at is having people hide their sins better! Knowing that the church will degrade them for sins, they ensure they’re not caught! Do you think the rate of sins have gone down because of your famous suspension? Of course not. They have all just gotten so good at hiding the sins!”

“When you humiliate wounded people for doing the wrong things, they don’t stop doing the wrong things, they learn to hide them better!”

It was such a perplexing situation. He had never understood it. Yet his father stood by it, because his father had done same, and same with his grandfather before that.

He’d learnt awfully early that if he hid his sins properly, his parents wouldn’t find out. He had been great at keeping his infidelities a secret. And he could only imagine how many in the congregation were living his kind of life.

He thought back to the last girl he’d had at the agency. A thick girl with a Liberian accent. She had a nose piercing and a belly button piercing that turned him on instantly!

She had handled him so well, he was so close to tears when he finally came!

There was no way he was letting go of the agency. It was a perfect fit for him, and he knew it couldn’t be just him. For all he knew, half of the presbyters used The Agency!


“Mba… hu etila bin kala?” – Father what are you doing here? (Frafra, a Ghanaian language)

Mba – Father

PERSPECTIVES VIII

Perspectives VIII

Happy New Year Fam!! Thank you for being loyal to lettersfromthisheart even when it took forever to get the next post! This year, we will do better! ️ ️ ️

It’s always great to hear: “When is the next part coming?” “You dare not kill Bruma!”“Why don’t you kill his wife instead?” Oh and all the young men asking “Is Yaa a real life character? I’d really love to meet her…” Lol!

Thank you guys for feedback. 

It looks like I’m going to have to end perspectives ASAP, and then develop it into a book at some point…. Because my over-imaginative brain cannot let it rest lol!

In the meantime though, this is the next part!

Enjoooyyy, Share, and let me know what you think! 

If you’re behind, you can find the other parts right here: Perspectives IIIIII , IVV , VI & VII


Nadia was frantic when she got the email. She was driving home, and was surprised to get an email from Bruma – he’d been the last to send an email in their weekly email sessions, and she was yet to reply that email. She moved to the shoulder of the road and parked to read it.

“Bruma, please don’t, don’t don’t!!” She tried his line and didn’t get any answer. She didn’t know anyone who could find him at this time, and there was no way she could call his house – heck she didn’t even have the number for his house.

God, please hold Bruma. He’s in a hard place, and I cannot do anything about it right now. You held my hands so many times when depression was home for me, and suicide seemed like the only way out. Please hold Bruma. Please! Amen.

She called her mother, and asked her if there was any way she could get Sarah’s number. “Nadia, what do you want with her number? What’s going on?” She didn’t know where to start or what to actually say. Bruma wants to commit suicide so I need someone around him to check on him?

“Mama, it’s a long and messy story, but I really do need you to find that number for me… please, Mama.” She was quiet on the line for a bit, and said she’d get back to her.

She drove home with a deliberate slowness. She tried calling again. still no answer. She prayed the whole way home.

So what if he actually dies, Nadia, are you happy with yourself? Are you sure you said all that there was to say? Will you be able to live with yourself after this? You’ve lost love twice in this life. 

She got home and sat in the car for close to thirty minutes feeling so helpless. She didn’t know what to do, and that for her was far worse than anything.

Bruma why would you even wonder if it would make any difference to me?


Yaa had never felt this way before and that made her more annoyed than the fact that she had fallen for a married man. The fact that she was actually sad, and would sit and reminisce hanging out with him made her feel so much sillier. You got played, Yaa… get over it!

As always, she put all her effort into everything else. All her weeks work was done extra fast, extra efficient. She took the baby out on walks with the nanny, she joined midweek service and volunteered for clean-up and extra prayer meetings. She didn’t want to have any time to mope. You’re too old to mope about a man, Yaa, especially not a married man. He’s probably not even as good-looking as you think, it’s all because he played you.

He’d called so many times, left so many messages, left emails, and yet Yaa refused to pick up or read any of them. ‘I will not be hoodwinked’ she kept telling herself.

One of her church duties was the follow up of members. So each month, she was assigned a few members of the church who hadn’t attended in a while, or who were ill or had travelled. It was a role she took seriously… ironically, she didn’t seem to know how to get Wendy to return to church.

She’d set up meetings with two of them for the month. Two were not willing to have a meeting. She called and spoke to Andrea…. she was cordial, and she was willing to set up a meeting for later. Three out of five wasn’t quite bad. She’d take it. There were months when nobody was willing to have a meeting! They were to meet on their lunch break at a cute coffee shop she’d picked.


Andrea was surprised that Yaa had reached out to her from the church. She knew her. She was that beautiful tall lady that was always there whenever the church needed her… she was also very rich! She’d admired her from a distance for a long time, but had never actually spoken to her. It was interesting that she was the one to call her about church. Funny thing was she knew she wouldn’t have wanted to meet any of the elders. And she didn’t know if she wanted to speak with the pastors either. It was a good strategy the church was using, she figured. Asking people you couldn’t say no to to help with follow up.

It was a hearty lunch. Yaa as always was her quirky happy self

“I’m sure you know I’m here cos we haven’t seen you in church in ages! I was told about the divorce, and I know that it may have taken a toll on you….. But we’d still like to see you and the boys?”

Andrea paused for a bit, choosing her words carefully. She felt she could talk to Yaa.

“I fear the church sometimes, Yaa. I’ve got more encouragement in life from friends at work – some of who are not even Christians! I’ve been judged and verbally assaulted all in the name of admonition from the church, and I’m not acting like a millennial!”

“ I don’t know if you understand, Yaa…. but I don’t think our churches love. I remember one of Pastor Bruma’s Sermons, when he said “Church is such a dangerous place to be without God – and God is love!” Half the time, I really feel we’re there playing mini gods in each other’s lives. It’s like they want you to make a mistake, so they can boldly and loudly correct you. I think they always want you to have issues so you can come to them for ‘help.’”

“ Do you have any idea the number of women in the church who called to advise me to stay in my marriage – half of them didn’t ask what the problem was. Those who did, downplayed it brutally, telling me “we live in a man’s world, so if he’s not beating you and it’s just sex he’s not giving you, then why are you leaving him. Even when they beat you, you need to weigh your options – you don’t just divorce a man!”

Yaa was quite taken aback. But she knew herself that the church was very capable. She knew what the people of the church had said to and about her in the past.

“So, I like to think of it this way…. that our church is like a hospital. The fact that a doctor or a nurse or other hospital worker is there to help cure you doesn’t mean they can’t have thier own cancer or arthritis that they’re battling. He could have his own headache, but has been mandated by oath and by law, to come and help get rid of yours. So much as we come to church for fellowship and healing and help, remember we have sick people among us, hurt people, every kind of person can be found in the church.”

 “And I know I shouldn’t be giving any marriage or love advice, seeing as I’ve never been married…. But this is something I’ve realised… our churches don’t take the time to prepare men for marriage… it’s a sad truth…. growing up as a woman, you hear allll about marriage… you’ll learn to cook “so your husband doesn’t eat someone else’s food” you’ll wash and clean and sweep and cook, when your brothers are in their rooms waiting for dinner. At church, female ushers are to do the grimy work, the males are to be the leaders…. it’s all a very messed up system, Andrea… but I guess it takes people like you and I to notice the problem and do better? I can’t say it’s a problem that will be fixed immediately, but I can say that we can play a part in fixing it…. and I can also say I’d be happy if you could return to church with the boys??

They both just laughed. 


Bruma had taken the pills. The time had come, and there was no way out for him. He was tired. The last straw had been when his little girl asked him why he and mummy were always fighting. He never wanted to be that man. He wanted his kids growing up in an environment where they knew what love looked like. He didn’t want his baby girl growing up and settling for just anybody. He couldn’t take it anymore. Nadia was the first to get a goodbye message. He’d also scribbled something down for Sarah.

Dear Sara,

I’m sorry that I failed you. I’m sorry I’m not the man you wanted. I’m sorry I wasn’t your choice. No matter what’s happened, I’m grateful for the years we’ve had together. You’re a good mother, and I’m glad the girls have you as a mother. You’re a lovely cook and home maker too. And you’re an amazing pastor’s wife. I’m sorry for whatever hurt I may have caused you. I’m so sorry for this mess. I willed my property sensibly… and hopefully you will live a comfortable life even if you decide not to work… The girls will each get a part of my estate once they turn eighteen. I spoke with Ms. Bonsu about all this a while back. I wish you all the very best, Sara.

You’re not the reason this is happening. So I hope you don’t blame yourself. Shit happens – excuse my French – and that’s not always anyone’s fault. I wish I could end this letter saying I love you. I can’t. But I hope you know that I tried my best. God knows, I tried my very best!

Bruma.

He dropped the letter under her pillow, and sat there for a while. His head was spinning. He’d give anything to be back at that beach. His thoughts couldn’t centre on one thing.

“God, I’ve failed you. And I’m so sorry…”


It was enough. Akyiaa had decided it was enough. She could hardly get a hold of her husband. He couldn’t be bothered to pick her calls, and nobody could say there was anything different happening with him at work. At least he didn’t appear to be cheating on her at work. 

She took an emergency leave to go home. Residency was hard. Combining it with the instability that was going on in her marriage was getting to her. 

She didn’t know if she’d be ready for what she was going to meet, and she didn’t want to think that she had been the cause of her marriage failing.

It doesn’t even make sense why I have to choose between my marriage and my career. Is this a thing for all women? Why do I have to go through this?

She hadn’t told anyone she was coming home. She preferred it that way, didn’t want a rumour going round for him to find out, and she certainly didn’t want a long list of things her parents would need her to order and bring. 

Her parents were excited to see her- Surprised, but excited. She dropped her luggage there and grabbed her dads car, to go by the house. She knew already he wasn’t at work. It was pretty late… And she’d called to check. If he wasn’t home, she figured she’d just wait for him.

When she got to the house, his car was parked inside. One other unfamiliar car was parked outside the gate where she’d parked. There was a football match on the TV, and two young guys were watching it. She figured he had friends over to watch the match. 

Relief. 

She asked who they were, and asked for him. They both seemed to panic. Odd.

She didn’t want to make a scene, and she definitely didn’t want drama. She’d had enough time on the flight home to think about all the possibilities – and she’d decided she could be fine with any of them. If he was with another woman, they’d plan for a divorce. She was tired enough as it is, having to sacrifice everything for a marriage he couldn’t even compromise for!

She walked into the bedroom, and nearly threw up!

There were clothes strewn around everywhere, and two grown men were in her bed, making love. She let out a shout without even realising it.

He was in their bed, with another man! 

She thought she had it all thought out, yet she didn’t know what to say, or how to act. The other man looked like one of the men from their church. He got confused when she let out the shout, and started to grab around for his clothes. He kept his head down, hoping she wouldn’t see his face. Too. Damn. Late. 

Akyiaa didn’t have words, or thoughts. She was suddenly numb. 

He walked up to her, and started to plead. “Akyiaa you cannot tell anyone this! What are you even doing here?” His first words to here were not an apology. They were to tell her not to tell anyone. He wasn’t sorry. Maybe sorry he’d been caught, but definitely not sorry.

She didn’t know how to process it all, and she didn’t have anything to say. 

She walked out of the house, numb and confused.


Dr. Adeola had contacted Wendy. He wanted her to speak to Yaa on his behalf. She really wasn’t sure if she wanted to. He’d explained to her, he was serious about the divorce. And he really cared about Yaa. And he knew she did too. He just wanted a chance to explain it all properly.

Wendy was definitely not the best person to help him…. she’d already sworn off men. A married man wasn’t about to be her headache – or her friend’s. 

His persistence however had her thinking of a plan. Some way to get him to have a simple conversation with Yaa.

Anything beyond that conversation was really none of her business.


Nadia called Sara. It was probably the most awkward one minute of her life. 

“Good evening, Madame Sara, my name is Nadia and I’m friends with Bruma. This might sound strange, but I think he’s considering suicide; as a matter of fact I think he’s considered it for a while and I might be too late, do you happen to know where he is?”

“I’m sorry, Where did you get this information from? Which friend are you exactly? Pastor is probably playing with the girls in the living room. And why would you say something like this about a man of God?”

Nadia didn’t know how to respond to any of the questions. Sara didn’t seem bothered at all!

“Is there anyway you could confirm please? I’d be very happy to speak to him, I can’t reach his phone”

“Madam, he’s either busy with the girls or asleep and I’ll have him call you when he wakes up.”

Nadia wanted to scream at her!

“Sarah, I’m almost completely sure he’s taken some pills to try to end his life. Please try rousing him and get him to the nearest hospital. Please!”

She was quiet, on the other end. All Nadia could hear was shuffling feet and doors open and shutting seemed to be walking. She could hear kids playing at a point. Sara was not saying anything. 

God. Please let him be fine. 

“Osofo, there’s a lady on the phone for you.”

Nothing.

“Is he breathing? Can you please say something? Can you send him to the hospital?”

“Madam, where did you get this information from? He’s not responding, but he’s breathing. I have to get off the phone and call an ambulance.” 

Nadia breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you! Can you kindly keep my number and let me know how he is? I’m sorry for calling you like this, but I really had to!”

“Okay, bye…. Bruma won’t you wake up?”

She hung up. 

Nadia hadn’t realised she was pacing. She was trying to sort out her feelings. What if he never made it out alive? What if the last time she’d see him alive was back on her last visit?

She grabbed her smallest suitcase and started throwing clothes into it. 

She diallled her mother. 

“Mama, I’m coming home.” 

“Bruma tried to commit suicide.”

“Of course I’m coming with him.”

“I’m yet to check the next available flight. I’ll call back with details.”

“Okay Ma”

“Bye.”

Perspectives VII

Shall we end ‘Perspectives’on the seventh part? Because 7 is the number of perfection right? Or maybe not? Let’s see!

As always, you can find the other parts right here: Perspectives I, II, III , IV, V & VI

Love,

Elise Tirza.


“I hear she’s found some Nigerian doctor bi ooh?”

“She’s probably desperate, because at 42 de3, why won’t she go and find a Nigerian man? She’s too rich, Ghanaian men will run away from her. Did you see her shoes two weeks ago? I saw something similar online – the price was in big dollars ooh”

“Is any of this your business, why are we even discussing this lady?”

Yaa smiled outwardly but inside, she was bewildered! Why were people always up in her business? How did they even find out about Adeola? They’d been on a total of maybe eight dates so far, and most of them were not even exactly dates!

She listened for about fifteen more minutes, and then walked up to the group of 3 having the conversation.

“Ladies, first of all, I’m 39 not 42, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Nigerian men. Also I’m so glad I have money, cos I can buy the things all those men would’ve promised me, but wouldn’t have been able to buy for me. Oh and those shoes were $1,000 only. Have your husbands bought you such yet?” They looked so mortified. One of them attempted to apologise, but Yaa was already walking away in her lovely form fitting black dress, and beautiful yellow high heels!

Adeola had closed from church a bit earlier, and wanted to know if she felt up for lunch. She knew she was being stupid. He wore a wedding ring. Yet she’d never asked. Never asked if he was married or if it was a fashion ring, or whatever. She knew she’d have to back off once she knew. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to continue fantasising about a married man. And why hadn’t he ever volunteered the information? She wasn’t crazy about settling down or anything, but she did not want to be in the way of another woman. She did not want another woman suffering because she was being an idiot. She would not be that woman.

You’re being pretty dense, Yaa! A man in a wedding band doesn’t need to be asked if he’s married! He certainly needs not volunteer any information either! He. Is. Married!

She’d had this internal battle for too long, and now she was ready to be sensible. Maybe the church rumour mill had forced some sense into her brain. She was going to ask him, and his answer would determine if she was going to carry on with this. A part of her knew the answer already, and it made her feel terrible!

God you have such a terrible sense of humour, you know? The one time I find someone I might actually like, he’s probably married.


Bruma was carrying his daughter on his legs, playing a game of ‘see-saw’. It was her favourite thing to do besides hide and seek – she’d sit on his legs, below the knees, and he’d bring them up and down, all the while singing “see-saw, up and down.” Sarah walked into the room, irritated about something. Lately, she was almost always irritated about something or another. “Osofo, the head of the Deacons called me, said he tried to reach you but couldn’t.” “Oh my phone is in the room, I’ll call him later… did he say exactly why he was calling for me?” She shrugged, gave him a look and walked away. He’d given up on his marriage now. The only thing that kept him at home lately was the kids. His appetite had plummeted, he’d lost weight, his moods had gotten really terrible, and he’d had to increase his therapy time. He had turned down so many speaking appointments at church, and explained to the Presbytery that he was a bit unwell, and would bounce back with time. At this rate, he didn’t see himself bouncing back soon. The third time he declined speaking at church, Sarah gave him a very insulting speech when they walked into the bedroom after church. “I don’t know why you’re deliberately trying to fail at everything. You’ve failed as a husband, Bruma, and now you want to fail as a pastor too? I don’t understand you sometimes.” He had no words for her. But her words cut him really deeply. He thought about it for weeks. He didn’t know he’d failed as a husband. He’d tried – Lord knows how he tried. Sarah had become something else, and he found himself thinking daily about Nadia. They’d started video calling each other lately. He called her after each therapy session, which was roughly three times a week, and sometimes, he’d drive to the nearest beach and call her from there. He liked that place. It had this weird serenity to it. It wasn’t the cleanest of beaches and maybe that was a good thing because there was never a crowd there – more often than not, there was nobody there.

There was a deserted tree behind the cluster of huts close to the beach. It had barely any leaves, but its branches looked sturdy enough. He’d wondered once or twice if it would be noticed if he got a rope, and ended it all there. Okay, he’d thought about it more than once or twice. He’d had those voices in his head explaining how worthless he was. He’d taken one of the ropes used to make drying lines from their storage unit once. It’d been in his car trunk ever since.

There were times when he felt he was just being stupid. How is one woman making you want to end your life? Would your mother approve of this nonsense?

She’s the reason I’m here in the first place.

Granted I’m a good speaker, a good teacher, but I don’t think I was meant to be a pastor.

God didn’t call you for your happiness, He called you to feed the sheep.

But how can I feed the sheep when I myself am starving? Not just starving, drowning too! Did God call me to unhappiness?

He’d battled with himself for so long! He was getting tired, and he was certainly not winning the battle.

“Mama, what if I hadn’t become a pastor? What if you hadn’t imposed this on me? What if I had gone on to be the bright Architect I wanted to be? What if I married Nadia? What if… What if I actually had a companion I could hang out with and talk to?”

He’d gotten to the point where turning down speaking invitations was really mainly to spite Sarah. There were days when he woke up and planned how he was going to end it. Maybe he would take an overdose of his drugs, and make his way to his tree with the rope… before he got too drowsy of course. He’d planned it over and over again. But he could never bring himself to do it. He knew he had to tell someone about it. His therapist, or Nadia, someone, anyone. Sarah was not an option – she’d probably even have him arrested for attempted suicide – wait no, she wouldn’t. It would give such a bad image of her, and she didn’t want that. Didn’t want the church to know. It made him laugh. He was going to do it, and he knew it had to be sooner or later. What about the kids? And Nady?


Andrea was on cloud nine – to a large extent. She kept telling herself that this had to end at some point but she didn’t know when, and she was definitely going to enjoy it till it did end. The first time she was at his house, he walked her straight into the kitchen where he was cooking an amazing feast! He didn’t even want her to cut onions… “If there’s any Imodium needed at any point, I want to be sure I’m the cause, and not you, he quipped.” Halfway into making his pasta, he spilled some sauce in his t- shirt, and had to take his shirt off the rest of the meal preparation time. She was awestruck! How could he be so beautiful, and so into her, and such a good cook too. That evening had been magical. She felt something she had never felt before. Intimacy with a man who had not made any sexual advances at her – at least not yet then.

He was interested in what she did, and was ready to give an opinion when she wanted one. He didn’t hold back when it came to pampering her. One day it was a spa day, the next it was taking her boys to the park, on another it was just cuddling in the couch because she wanted to.

And the sex! Oh the love-making! She didn’t know if Gyedu had given her low expectations, or if she had put O.J. on a pedestal because he was just an awesome human. But the sex was gooood! Dream-about-it, have-flash-backs, go-into-random-trances-when-you-think-about-it kind of good!  He was a very tender person, wanting to be sure that she was having a good time. She was a bit awkward, and it all felt very foreign to her initially; she kept wondering if after that he was going to up and leave. He didn’t. He seemed to really be into her, and she was all for enjoying whatever it was between them, at least until he decided he didn’t want it anymore. If he ever did.

She hadn’t exactly had the full conversation with him on what led to her divorce. He was content with her ‘it didn’t work out, and we spent too long trying to make it work.’ He asked her to tell him whenever she was ready.

So one afternoon, after very toe-curling sessions, in the throes of her passion, she decided she’d have that discussion with him.

For a minute, he thought she was joking. “You left him because he refused to have proper sex with you? What is he gay?” he chortled. That possibility had never crossed her mind, and she’d spent too long analysing why he didn’t even want to try – she wasn’t going to start thinking about that all over again. He laughed for a bit, and then realised she was serious. “Hey, hey, don’t get moody about this, please…”he whispered. “If he had this sexy, beautiful woman for that long, and didn’t want to make love to her like any sensible man would, then that was really his loss. His loss… my gain. You have an amazing body, and frankly, I enjoy making love to you… you’re a selfless lover, and sometimes, at work, on random occasions, I have flashbacks of the times we spend together, especially the time spent under the sheets.” She was staring at him. Wondering if he was only flattering her, or actually meant what he was saying. “You’re special, Andrea. Gyedu was a lucky man for all the years you were married to him. It’s unfortunate he didn’t realise it.”

She had never gotten this reaction from anyone concerning her divorce. Most people thought she was insane. He’s providing for you and your family, he’s not sleeping around, at least you have no proof; he doesn’t beat you, so why are you leaving him?

She had tears in her eyes, remembering how often she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Wondering if she’d actually ever find someone that made her feel the way she thought a husband should make a wife feel. So much for saving herself till marriage, she’d thought.

The next day, he sent her a large bouquet of flowers at work, and a note that read:

“I’m glad I know that I have a gem, and I’m not going to take this for granted. You’re special, Andrea, and you rock my sheets (also my world)!

 – O.J.”


Wendy had returned to school, and was happy to be back on track. She’d missed so much that it was not likely she’d be able to graduate with her colleagues. But she was happy to be back nonetheless. There was no race. She would graduate eventually, and that’s really all that mattered to her.

She had heard all the rumours about who could be the actual father of her baby. Some thought it was one of the guys she studied with in school. Some were so sure it was some lecturer she must have slept with for grades. Yet others were convinced it was some family friend.

Truth be told, she couldn’t be bothered who said what. The father of her child was inconsequential now. After shirking his responsibilities – and mostly when she needed him the most – she had given their baby up for adoption. It made her happy that she had made a decision to give the baby up to Yaa. She was at peace, and there was really nothing her baby would lack. Maybe a father, but that was alright, she knew amazing people who’d been raised so well by women. And it wasn’t as if her own father had made so much of a difference in her life anyway.

She knew now that she really needed to focus and make it into the kind of place that Yaa was in – emotionally, financially, and even spiritually. They’d had this discussion once. It felt so good to be able to have these conversations with someone. Someone older and more sensible.  And yes she’d gotten quite bitter about men and about the church, and all that, but they’d decided that that was a discussion for another day. Not everything would get fixed immediately. She’d figure life out, one step at a time.

She was definitely in a better place now. Although she didn’t see herself ever returning to church – at least not to that church, she could speak to God without asking anymore whys. She could say a quick prayer about something, without chiding herself.

She was in a much better place now.


Akyiaa had gotten really worried about Papa. He didn’t seem interested in anything that concerned her anymore. She called him religiously on every break she had, yet he picked up only a handful of times, claiming he was busy. Half the time, he’d only pick up to say he’d call her back, and then never actually call back.

She had a few of her friends check up on him at work, but it looked as if he was spending less and less time there. He hadn’t said anything about employment elsewhere, and nobody could actually confirm if he was busy at the times when he claimed he was.

She was constantly tired at work, and whenever she was free, she was stressing about her husband.

So now that you’re finally here, do you consider this worth your marriage?

She was gradually losing it, and she was nowhere near her leave. There was no way she could up and leave. She’d called his parents once, but they didn’t seem to know that there was anything wrong.

She sent him an email after one outrageous shift, when she didn’t know what else to do. She was tired, and didn’t know if she had the energy to deal with his childish ways.

Dear Papa,

I’m getting increasingly worried about you, about us. I don’t know exactly what’s going on anymore. You hardly return my calls, and I know for sure that it’s not because you’re busy. If there’s something you want to say, please say it with your chest, and stop these disappearing acts. We’re both adults, and this is not necessary. Should I be expecting you to visit soon? I mentioned this in the initial letter I wrote to you, but you haven’t said anything about it yet.

I miss you, and I’m worried about you. And I want to have somebody to tell about my day. You’re that somebody for me, Papa. I get so overwhelmed at work, and then I get home to this tiny cold apartment, hoping to speak to you to make it all worth it. I know you were not exactly excited about this move, but I thought we were past this? I want to hear about your day to, and your new employment, as it looks as if you’ve moved from the hospital? Whatever is going on, talk to me Papa.

Please call me when you can.

I miss you!

Akyiaa.


“I don’t know how it’s taken you this long to ask me this Yaa, I’ve often wondered if maybe it didn’t make any difference to you?”  He said with a smirk.

“Just answer the question, Doc.” she tried to be a bit humorous about it, but she was definitely on the brink of tears.

“Technically I’m still married.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. It felt so weird. This is probably why I’ve never wanted any man, she thought. Their deceit would have given me a heart attack in my twenties!

“What does technically mean?” She asked with a side eye, slowly getting up from her seat. She was ready to leave. She couldn’t have anyone see her cry.

“Please sit down, Yaa, and listen to the whole story?”

I moved to Ghana a couple of years ago… I already mentioned to you that I’m Ghana-trained. So it only seemed sensible to return here. Been married fifteen years. My wife is a doctor too – soon to be ex-wife. I left Nigeria because the separation was very hard on me, and she seemed to be having a very easy time about it. I didn’t want to stay and watch her move on. We didn’t have any kids. I guess that was a good thing? Because how would a bunch of teenagers or middle school kids deal with a divorce like this? The divorce hasn’t gone through yet because I’m yet to sign my part. It sounds stupid and very selfish, but I guess I didn’t want her moving on until I was ready to move on myself? And she’s sent emails, and notices from lawyers, etc. but I wasn’t ready to sign them. Until about six weeks ago, when I met you.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. This time she was leaving. Such unnecessary fabrications!

I think the fact that you were unmarried and adopting a baby was what made me notice you in the first place? And no that’s not because you’re not beautiful, because you really are – but then again there are so many Ghanaian women who are too, and so many of them who have moved to me since I moved here.

Many of them couldn’t be bothered wheter I was married or not. I figured it wasn’t a big deal for you?

Yaa walked away without another word.

I’ve made it so many years without men, how did I stupidly fall into this?  She refused to be hurt – as if she could command it away. She went straight to bed, and stayed there. The nanny she’d hired must have noticed she didn’t want to talk. She moved out of her way, and didn’t say a word.

“Dear God, you really really make me wonder sometimes. And no I will not cry!”


Dear Nadia,

There’s something I need to tell you. Something I can’t say over the phone on our video calls, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear the pain that’ll be in your eyes. Or maybe because I wonder if it would really make a difference to you.

For a couple of weeks now, I’ve been wanting to end everything. I’m not saying this so you feel sorry for me, or anything of the sort. I’m letting you know that you, and the kids, have been that thread of good reason, holding me. I’m grateful. There’s this dream I keep having. You know that thing we do just when we start swim class? Where we go underwater to learn breath control, and see how many seconds we can do that? In the dream, I’m underwater, and I’ve counted and counted, and counted, and I’m out of breath, yet I’m unable to come up! When I first had it I thought it was an indication that somehow God was calling me. I know it sounds stupid, but the first thought that occurred to me was, I can do this – make it easier for Him!

I’ve made a mess of my life, Nadia… a series of decisions I made, and now I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to live out the consequences. I don’t know what else to say, Nadia, other than I’m drowning.

Pain may not be permanent, like you keep saying, but tonight, this pain is drowning me.

I love you Nadia. I always have, always will, no matter what.

Bruma

Perspectives V

Dear everyone…..Perspectives is back!!💃🏽🍾🎊

If you haven’t had a chance to read any of the previous parts of ‘Perspectives’, you’ll find them here: Perspectives I, II, III & IV

Thank you for all the support, 🙏🏽 the ‘patient’ waiting , 🤦🏾‍♀️ the grumbling, the threats and warnings, 😂etc. I’m happy to be back, and to be ending perspectives soon!! 🎊

Hugs, Elise❤️


Dear Sarah,

Remember the day I asked you to marry me? I don’t remember it in full detail. I remember that it was tough. I remember that we had no emotions between us. I remember knowing right from that day that this wasn’t right for both of us. I knew you knew as well. But I guess we did what we needed to do? You we’re destined to be a pastors wife, and I was determined to do something right by my family. Ours has been such an odd relationship. Functional, but odd.

You know this thing we keep telling our counselees? About foundations? ‘The depth of a foundation matters just as much as what it’s built with.’

It keeps ringing in my head….

The Bible verse that says build with good material, because your works will be tested with fire?

I know we’ve been building with good material….

I know that we’ve both tried. But I know also that our foundation was shallow. I know our foundation isn’t something we can fix. Because God knows I tried. I tried dates, I tried books, I tried conversation, and none of them seem to bring us closer together. We’re basically bonded together, only because of the kids.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed that the past few years have been harder for me than ever. I don’t know if you noticed the meds, or noticed my early morning/ mid-evening hospital visits…

I don’t expect that you noticed, because I tried really hard to hide it. How would people react to a depressed pastor? How many would even believe it? How many people would understand that I preached hope and love and faith, and yet I had suicidal thoughts on some days? How many would ask me to pray it away? How many of them would go about gossiping about the pastor that says he knows God and yet wants to kill himself. How many would understand? Would you understand? Would you, Sarah.

The past few months, I’ve had a lot to think about. I’ve questioned God, and I’ve told him my heart. I’ve asked him for a way out, a way to not feel so trapped. I’ve begged him on my knees and I’ve begged him in our bed. I’ve fasted, and I still can’t seem to figure anything out. I don’t know what to do. So this letter is to ask you. Sarah. Are you happy? Are you happy carrying on with this sham we’ve done so well with for so long, or is there something you want? Do you want us to see a professional? Do you want us to work on our foundation? Is there anything you want besides being ‘osofomaame’? Do you want me? As a person? Or is it just the title that you want? I’m making changes this year, Sarah, and I’m done being quiet about the things that hurt me. I’m questioning things, and I’m willing to change what isn’t working. I owe it to myself to be happy, as long as it remains in the will of God.

There are so many times when I see you chatting with a friend, and I wonder if you’ll ever get to a point where you can have a normal chat with me as a husband… not about the children and not as your pastor.

I want to be able to laugh with you about those funny hats Abrefi wears to church, but I can’t, because you will consider it slander. I want to be able to wake you up at 3am, just because I had a silly dream and I’ll probably forget it if I go back to bed without telling you. I want to be able to come round the kitchen and stress you, while helping you make my kontomire stew. But I can’t.

Sarah before anything else that I am – pastor, father, counsellor etc., I am your husband. You’re the one person I should be happy to see and talk to everyday. I used to be a very happy, carefree man. I don’t think God wanted me to be unhappy. And I know for a fact he doesn’t want you to be unhappy either.

Marrying you was a thing that was supposed to make me right in my family. I wanted my parents to know that I’d done one good thing. Now I wonder if my mother looks down from heaven to see if I’m happy.

When Mama died, I was devastated. I knew you were sad too. But it never once even crossed my mind that I could talk to you about how I felt. I wanted to be held. I wanted to cry – to wail. I wanted to tell someone that I wish mama had met our last baby. I wanted to scream to the world that the one person I wanted to impress the most in life was gone.

Instead, all my grief was bottled up in me, Sarah. I had to be strong, you said. I had to man up. I had to amidst the tedious task of planning a funeral and dealing with family members, hold my heavy grief so deep in my heart that it couldn’t show. On the day of the funeral, I felt things I’d never felt before. I considered taking my life.

I’m not saying that any of this is your fault. I’m just as much to blame. I’m just letting you know that I really wish it had all been different. I wish I could be your husband sometimes and not have to always be your pastor.

You know that I’ve never really figured sex out with you? It’s been close to 9 years, and I don’t know how… I don’t even know what I don’t know. I just know that it feels as if you never want me. And when because of that I decide to let you be, you come rushing at me with your passive aggressive words, asking if I no longer find you desirable. I don’t know if I can ever figure it out with you, but I’m willing to try – only if you are.

I want us to consider counselling, Sarah. I mentioned earlier that I started therapy after the suicidal thoughts I started having. It took a while, of course, but now I can wake up in the morning and not feel that dark cloud there all the time. I can speak without the tightening in my chest that kept happening. I can laugh genuinely again, Sarah. And I want us to be able to be happy. We owe it to ourselves, and then, to the kids.

I care about you, Sarah. You’ve been an amazing mother to our kids, and an amazing Osofomaame. One day soon, please be my amazing wife.

Brumah.


The finality of it all shocked her.

They were finally over? The twins were with her, but he’d promised to continue to provide for them. He’d signed to that effect. And he hadn’t really made a fuss.

There are days when she kept thinking maybe he had a mistress somewhere? But she didn’t want to think that way. She wanted to think that he was just not very sexually attracted to her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe that meant that he could find someone out there that he was really attracted to, and who would be fine with his bedroom shenanigans, or the lack of them.

She’d expected the divorce to feel exhilarating. She expected that she’d be extremely happy. On the contrary, she felt raw fear. Had she done the right thing? Would the kids understand when they were older? Would she ever find someone else? Did she want to find someone else… she knew she did.

She looked at the one day old message from Akua.

“When are you ready to get back to the dating scene? I have a friend you should meet!”

Was she ready to flirt and date and do all those things she really hadn’t done so much of? Had she just thrown away her marriage for things like these?

But then again what was her marriage? She was unhappy for years. Unhappy and tired. She grabbed the bottle of gin, not bothering to use a glass.

Finally, she replied the message.

“I’m ready…. I guess?” He better be sensible, she thought.  I’m not ready for games. And the kids are certainly not ready for games either. Lol.


The whole flight, Akyiaa kept wondering if maybe she had made the wrong decision. She’d tried. She really had. But if the man she loved was not in favour of her pursuing her dreams, then was that really love? She’d tried to stay back, to decide that she could hold off and stay. But she’d started resenting him, and she knew that if she didn’t figure it out, she could probably become capable of murder at a point. His smugness about being the head of the family and having the last word made it so much worse. She couldn’t stomach it anymore. Good thing she hadn’t emailed to say she couldn’t make it. She’d bought the ticket two weeks earlier, waiting for a good time to tell him. But there was never a good time. The evening she left, she left him a letter. A very long letter. She passed by her parents’ house, and her dad drove her to the airport. They had no idea that he didn’t know. They had no idea that she’d neglected to tell him. “I’m really glad Papa came to his senses.” Her father had said. She only smiled and said nothing. She knew he was likely at the hospital, or with the guys. And that he’d be very upset. But she had to do this for herself. There was no way she could live with herself twenty years down the line, thinking of what could have been. She knew she had tried to live with it. She’d tried to not hate him for not wanting her to go. But she had failed. And ultimately, she knew she would fail at the marriage in the long run if she did nothing about it. She had to do something.


When the baby was put in her laps, it was almost as if her whole life had been brought to a standstill. She could barely pay attention to the people around her. She was exhausted. And completely and utterly dumbfounded. His dark, tiny fingers, his awfully tiny nose, and the way his lips curled when he yawned or stretched or whatever it is he was doing.

The pain she’d been in the past 8 hours had been completely forgotten. And she finally understood how people could have so many kids. The joy that followed the birth of one was intoxicating. As she put him to her breast, and felt his first tug, she shut her eyes, only now realising that she had been crying.

When Yaa met with the doctor concerning Wendy, he assumed straightaway that she was the mother. He discussed everything with her, and answered all her questions. He was a constantly smiling gentleman, who looked to be in his mid-forties. He looked tired – in a chronic way. As if he’d been tired for so long, and his rest wasn’t taking care of the tiredness.

When she asked if there was a protocol for adoption, he realised she wasn’t the mother. Yaa explained the whole situation, and he seemed happy to help even though he didn’t seem to know exactly how.

Yaa didn’t know why she went to look at his ring finger, and why she was disappointed when she noticed the wedding band. She chided herself and went back to paying attention to the man’s words.

They made a plan to meet together with the social welfare team, and Yaa left, wondering what kind of a family man he was, and how lovely he must look in shorts. She scolded herself countlessly, but she couldn’t stop wondering.


Nadia and Brumah continued to keep conversation. Not daily – they’d told themselves they couldn’t do that. They emailed weekly. So she knew about the letter Brumah had written to Sarah, and how for weeks he still hadn’t gotten a reply, or any change. She knew that Brumah’s therapy was better now than ever, and they’d started cutting back on his medications. She knew that he had work that was going to take him to some villages for a while. She knew that his daughter had just had her first tooth come out, and she was super excited.

He also knew that Mackenzie was increasingly getting more involved in the swim team, and it made him happy. He knew that she had gotten a good advertisement deal that could land her a large amount of money. He knew that she had plans of coming home to visit her mother with Mackenzie, but he didn’t want to get over excited. He didn’t even know if they would get to see each other. He wanted Nadia, but he also wanted to honour his marriage.

He knew though, that his days were a lot happier, because he felt heard. He felt needed. He felt wanted. And that feeling beat many other feelings he’d had in the past couple of years. He could pray without feeling any guilt about not keeping Sarah in the loop. Because he’d literally poured out his whole heart to her. Well almost all of it. And it didn’t seem to make any difference for her.

Recently he had a hard time though preaching at church on some occasions.

In one of his last sermons, he spoke about Destiny and the will of God.

How too many people put their destinies in the hands of mere men, mere mortals. How God had a path for everyone, and yet not everyone wanted to follow in that direction. And how God never forced humans. How he gave us all free will.

He remembered the tears in the beautiful red haired doctor’s eyes when the sermon was over. He remembered wondering to himself if he’d taken his own destiny into his hands by marrying Sarah. Later in the week when he emailed Nadia, he asked her if she thought he did. But her reply hadn’t come yet.

Nadia didn’t know what to think about that. All she knew was that she had survived him leaving, and much as she wanted him back, she knew she couldn’t. And she was content with this new friendship they’d started – at least she prayed she’d remain content. What she didn’t know, was if he had taken his destiny into his own hands, by leaving her for Sarah.


Dear Papa…

I know you’re probably going to hate me forever for this. And I don’t know if, or when you can forgive me. But I do know that if I’d stayed, we’d both have been very miserable. I know I tried. Really tried to be the submissive wife everyone has been asking me to be. But I really don’t see myself putting this dream on hold just because your ego can’t handle it. (And if there’s another reason why you had wanted me to stay, please do tell me, because I really can’t seem to find it.)

Three week ago at church, when Pastor Brumah spoke about destiny and the will of God, I felt as though God was talking to me. And I know that God doesn’t contradict himself. I know he says to submit to the husband. I know also that he asks husbands to love their wives. I really don’t know where the love we had is, Papa. I know that this residency is something I’ve worked so hard on for so long, and something I’ve dreamt about and prayed about and longed for since forever. And you know this too. So I can’t seem to understand how come you don’t want me to go.

Unfortunately, it’s too late now.

I just want you to know that this is not me asking for us to break up or for divorce anything at all. If anything, I want to be able to prove to you that we can do this. That long distance for 3 or so years is really not going to be as bad as you think. Especially because we’ll get to see each other a couple of times each year.

I left in the freezer stews and soups that should last for at least six weeks. Hopefully before the six weeks are up, your anger may have gone down, and we can figure out food for the rest of the while that I’m away.

You don’t know what I’d give to have your support, and to have had you go on this trip with me. To help me settle, and to know that even if the situation is not the most ideal, that you’re in it with me. I wish you knew.

I’ve attached to this letter a ticket for this Christmas. I know your visa expires in about a month. But then your leave isn’t till Christmas. And I’d be really happy if you could renew the visa, so I get to see you at Christmas. If you decide not to, I understand.

But I want you to know that going away was a good thing. I started resenting you after I made the decision to stay, and I realised I couldn’t let that decision rob me of both my happiness and my marriage.

So please understand. Please understand that I really needed to do this. And please understand that I love you. And I tried so hard to stay and forget about this, I just couldn’t do it.

Love,

Akyiaa


*Osofomaame – Pastors Wife

Perspectives IV

Dear everyone… Happy Easter! (It’s not quite over yet, is it?) I really have no excuses this time – well I do, but I really shouldn’t have been gone this long. I know the usual “I’m sorry for being gone for almost forever” doesn’t quite cut it. Nonetheless, I’m so sorry! I hope you enjoy this! And I can almost promise the next part wont take this long – I’m already working on it!

If you’re new here or you’ve missed any of the previous parts of ‘Perspectives’, find them here: Perspectives I, Perspectives II, Perspectives III.

Hugs! ❤



When Brumah walked into her house, the first thing that struck him was how cosy it felt. It wasn’t one of those mansions that felt too bougie to relax in. it was designed very cosily, and was just…. Homey.

He sat at the dining table in the kitchen, where Nadia was making something. It smelt good… unfamiliar, but good. She said Mackenzie was upstairs and would join them when dinner was ready. He had mixed feelings about meeting the boy. He didn’t know if he would like him. He wanted him to. Badly. And he didn’t even know why. He was good with kids, and had never ever had to think if a child would like him or not. Here he was, hoping the little boy would like him.

There was some music playing from the living room, and Nadia was dressed in home clothes. Baggy trousers and a tank top. He wasn’t sure if she was wearing a bra or not. Why was he even thinking about that? God hold my thoughts please! He didn’t need his thoughts wandering now. They’d agreed to have a simple dinner and nothing more. She was concentrating on the food… whatever it was she was making, and he was trying to concentrate on his glass of fresh juice without staring at her backside. God, I’m having such a hard time here. I’m still so attracted to her. I’m so scared of doing something I’d regret now. I’m so scared. But I want her, God, I love her. I really really do, and you know it. Please do something. Make it work somehow God.

He sighed deeply and caught her staring at him.

“Brumah, everything okay?” She looked worried. She had no idea the flips his heart was doing just because of her concern. He said he was good, and she prepared to go get Mackenzie from upstairs.

Perspectives has been published into a book, and can be obtained here: 

Six Years Late III

Thanks for getting to the end of ‘Six Years Late’, guys! I know for many people this might not seem like the happy ending. But hey… 😀 Please leave a comment, tell me what you think, and do share it with anyone who might be interested.

In case you missed the other parts, you can find the first part here: Six Years Late, and the second, here: Six Years Late II .

Hugs!

Elise


I was sitting in Ebo’s couch, drinking a glass of sparkling red wine. It was one of the finest bottles of Lambrusco there ever was– one of my favouring bottles – La Battagliola… Though sweet, it had that spicy, bitter bite right after.

He was one of the few people I knew that enjoyed it as well. The girls usually preferred white wine… and even when they had red wine, Lambrusco was not an option. It was the kind of wine you could get through, without even realising! It could also get you drunk without any ‘tipsy prelude’.

 He had that E.L.’s song playing over and over “Mi sweety jole, my one and only my shorty…”

Kweinuaa, Sakyi and Annie had fallen asleep a short while before I showed up. Apparently they’d been running round the house, playing tag, and putting him out of his mind with all the noise.

“Remember when we were kids and we’d play ‘pilolo’, and ‘zanzama’?”

I could already feel a buzz from the wine.

“I was the girl that would always knock the guys the hardest whenever we played zanzama. The other girls would take it easy, cos they wanted to be spared when it was their turn… I could not be bothered!”

Where did that happy carefree girl go to?

 “Mi naa bo po po po, Mi naa bo po po po, nk33, hef3 he ni maya, moko moko moko b3… mi naa bo po po po…”

He was looking at me… in that lazy, yet serious way that only he seemed to be able to. I’d only noticed recently that he had a small dent in his cheeks – it wasn’t a dimple, more like an indented scar. We’d spent more time together in the past 4 months than we ever had before. I’d noticed things about him I’d always overlooked. Like how his jaw did a twitching thing, when he was contemplating things, how he gritted his teeth very subtly whenever an argument came up. And how his smile, though rare, brightened up his face entirely!

Nii had quite suddenly become a common face at any function we attended. After the last time he’d showed up at the house, he’d showed up at some church programmes, and at my office on six different occasions (with flowers and/or lunch). He’d packed out of Ebo’s house, after an argument about whose side he was on, and apparently gotten himself a place at the  Trasacco Valley. I still hadn’t sorted out the way I felt about the whole situation. I was civil about him, but I was not swayed. I had a beautiful life built, and I was not going to bring back toxic memories into them.

And I was sure that I was going to have a happy ending. Maybe just not yet, and surely, not with him.

I handed him the letter…

“So I suppose you’ve come to a verdict?” He said when he saw the addressee… His jaw twitched, as he took it from my hands, sliding a tad closer to me in the couch.

Dear Nii,

I never thought I’d write a letter like this. After about 6 months of your absence, I stopped believing I’d ever see you again. But this is life. And I suppose the unexpected should always be expected.

I was very shaken when you suddenly re-appeared. I didn’t expect to be this affected by your return. I didn’t expect to be put so off-balance. And yet already, it’s been over four months!

A few weeks ago, the last time you showed up at church, I had quite a number of people asking me if I’d forgiven you, if there was going to be some sort of reunion. I didn’t know what kind of answer to give. I had not forgiven you. You see, I had buried all of the hurt inside some dead part of my heart, and slowly, without realising it, you were still chipping at my heart… year after year, taking chunks away, from inside out…

Last week, I decided that that had to end. I decided that I would forgive you. I would set myself free. I decided that my heart was too fragile to let this keep festering. I would not let it destroy me.

Now I want to be clear about something. Forgiving you has nothing to do with getting back together with you, making it work, or whatever words you’d prefer to use. Unless the Holy Spirit Himself comes down to speak to me concerning that, I honestly do not see it happening. So I want you to continue to remain as far away from me as possible. It’s been quite liberating hearing your story, honestly. I’m more liberated to go about my own life. I’m only thirty – three. And my life will count. It will count without you in it. I’m glad that I never had that delusion that these young girls keep growing up with these days, thinking that they cannot function without a man. Thinking that they need a husband to validate their lives. Much as it’s helpful, it can be done without. And for six long years, Nii, I’ve made it work.

So I’m going to return to the dating scene, my dear. And I’m going to be a very happy woman – even happier than the woman you married – if that’s possible.  I will spend drinking nights out with the girls, I will laze about my house and read books. I will drive to the beach whenever I feel up to it. I will go to church and enjoy services, and pretend I cannot see or hear all those who seem to think they can decide what I do in life. I will not spare a thought over you – as I have not done in years. I will do what’s best for my daughter and I.

Oh, and just so you know, we know exactly what heaven on earth is like. It definitely doesn’t have you in it.

Now, about my daughter. Yes, Nii, you read right – my daughter – Kweinuaa. I’d like for you to stop harbouring any intentions of ever getting close to her. Because if you ever try it, Nii… I will get a restraining order. And if you send me to court, I will fight you. I will fight till I make you go bankrupt. You know better than to let this go unheeded – I’ve done my research, and I know how to make it work. She was not your daughter when I had her. She certainly isn’t now. 

Ebo and Ofoe have been amazing fathers to her. She will be just fine.

 

He paused and looked at me with a funny simper… I downed a little more of the wine. My heart was racing, and my chest beginning was burn a little. I could tell I was somewhere on the verge of drunkenness. I’d have to consider an Uber… or Ebo could drive me home?

 

And one day, I hope that you find some other woman, who can handle you. Someone who’ll be fine with a decision to bail anytime things don’t work. I hope she makes you happier than I ever made you. I hope you have babies with her. Because my baby girl is not to be shared. She’ll always be my daughter. Not ours.

All we have left, Nii, is the memory of a beautiful marriage, a horrid separation, and now, a surprising and civil re-acquaintance. Nothing more is ever going to come out of that.

Now that you’ve made your apology and intentions known, I’d like for you to know that you’re forgiven. Only forgiven so I can be free.

I will have a happy ending, Nii. But it won’t have you in it.

Regards,

Parker.

Ebo looked at me, and smiled – fully this time. It was an intent gaze. He took a sip of his Lambrusco, and kissed my forehead.

Maybe… just maybe, this was my happy ending.

 

 

The End.

 

 


This is the link to the E.L’s song that was mentioned. I don’t know the full meaning of it, lol… I’ve just recently fallen in love with it, and I hope you like it too.

E.L – Mi Naa Bo Po (Official Music Video) – YouTube

PS. Thanks Ike for the illustration 😀