Akaa & Alima III

Third part out! So sorry it took so long. We’ve been dealing with some techinical difficulties. I promised to be good this year, and I’m working haaard on that! So while those technical issues are still not fixed, I’m here trying to be a loyal writer regardless. Lol! As always, please let me know what you think!

You can find the first two parts here : Akaa & Alima and Akaa & Alima II

Enjoy your weekend! 

Elise.


The morning after had never been an issue for Akaa. It was always a solid goodbye, and an “I guess I’ll see you another time.” When he woke up this time, it was sometime after 4am. She was curled up in a funny way, with hand still across him. Her lips were parted slightly, and the covers had fallen off her chest, barely covering her, hips down. His natural instinct was to pull the covers over her. But he wanted to look at her. He could not believe that he had to leave in barely 6 hours. She was breathing heavily, and the rise and fall of her right breast was stirring up his member. She was beautiful!

She stirred a bit. He pulled her towards him, placing her head on his chest, and covering them both up. She lifted her head up… sleepy, searching eyes… He looked her in the eye and put her head back on his chest. She fell asleep almost immediately. He fell asleep about an hour later.

She woke up two hours later and ravished him all over again. Akaa left the resort a very happy man.

His next visit was about a month later. She had been on his mind all month though. He had to make a conscious effort to not contact her in any way. There were secure emails for messaging the girls if they wanted to. Although it was mostly used to sext,

He also had to constantly bring himself to stop thinking about his birthday weekend.

The surprise birthday party Dionne and the kids planned for when he got back could not top it in any way. Once, she caught him smiling to himself, while he lay in the couch, thinking about ‘Lina’.

 “I have the most amazing woman in my life… and she made sure I had the most incredible birthday I’ve had in years! What’s there to not be happy about?” She kissed the top of his head. She had no idea!

It was a Friday morning when he got to the resort. He had so much on his mind that day. He had one company that was somehow fast becoming a liability. And he was considering selling it off. He had a buyer… in fact, he would have many buyers if he wanted. But the main problem was with the staff. If he sold it, he was probably laying off about one hundred and twelve people. A hundred and twelve people that would suddenly have to figure out a way to feed their families.

She was such a good listener. She sat with him and watched him whine about the issue.

You could add a clause to the conditions of buying the company. Nobody is to be laid off till they’ve worked there a few months at least, and their competency evaluated. If they don’t make the cut, they can be laid off. A year is good enough time for many of them to find new options?”

He was awestruck. She is intelligent too!

Why hadn’t he thought of that? Maybe instead of a few months, he’d insist on a year. It would definitely limit the number of possible buyers, and it was unlikely that they would agree on a whole year, but it was a good starting point for negotiation. She handed him a glass of chardonnay and continued talking.

I’m not a business person, but I understand that these risks do come up. You just need to let the staff know ahead of time what’s going to happen, so they don’t feel cornered when the time comes. Some might already have options, and will happily move on. Some of them will have to start looking. Whoever buys it, will have to figure things out however they want to, but the staff should at least have some time.”

He marvelled at the tall dark beauty in front of him. Her thick, dark lips were still moving, but he was really just staring at them, not listening to anything.

Akaa… you’re not listening to me. You don’t think it makes sense?

He grabbed her and kissed her. His tummy was fluttering, and all that was very new for him. Even Dionne hadn’t made his tummy flutter in before!

This weekend together, they talked a lot. He talked about his family, showed her photos, and discussed some of his companies, a couple of his friends.

She only talked about her life at the agency. It was almost as if that was the only life she had. The other guys she’d been with, how she enjoyed the company of the other girls and guys, but there were times when she wished she had other people to talk to – people to discuss all the books she read with, and her plans for the future.

She talked about learning to code. It was something she’d started working on, and was thinking of getting an online degree in. She enjoyed reading technical books. Books about different things in life. She told him about that time when she was new there, and read a whole book on anatomy and physiology just because she enjoyed it.

They had so much to laugh about. She avoided many questions about family. It wasn’t allowed. Besides, she’d tried her best to repress the memory of her family. She wasn’t going back there anytime soon.

Do you ever intend to be married in the future?

No.”

He was surprised at how sure she was of the fact that she didn’t want to be married.

There are millions of girls out there – especially Ghanaian girls, whose sole ambition in this life is to land a rich young man and be married. I’m not one of them.

She looked genuinely unbothered.

My dreams are almost limited. Because of how little of life I’ve seen. I was 15 when I got here. My uncle had to lie about my age for me to get accepted. Right now, I’m really just twenty. Although my body and my documents say otherwise.  I’ve only seen two places in life. When I’m done here, I want to see the world – all of it. I don’t know if the conventions of marriage will allow me that. I don’t intend to be saddled with a man, who will find me strange, or weird, and will eventually end up in an agency like this one, screwing girls who are better at sex than I am. Or worse still, embarrass me by chasing other girls right under my nose!

I want to go to university – even if I’ve already got my degree online, I’ll want another one. I want to be able to sit in some office for a bit, and be paid for my mind and not my body. One day, I will actually make Hamamat proud!”

There was a fierceness in her last statement. He knew Hamamat had to be her mother.

She realised immediately she’d said too much, and gotten emotional. It’s just nobody had really asked her about her future before. She’d thought it over and over, but she’d never actually voiced them out. But she knew she had to make her mother proud. One day when she had her money and her way.

I enjoy the time I spend with you because you’re not just ‘body’. You think, you help me reason. And I like that. You’re beautiful, Lina, but you’re also very bright. Your dreams are valid. You will see the world one day.”


Naana came into the agency as an adult. She was one of the few who did. She had always lived with an aunt and her older brother. Their father was abroad, but she didn’t really know him. Once in a year or so, when they were a lot younger, they would go to a communication centre to call him, and ask how he was doing. He always asked what they wanted when he was coming. She always said a Barbie doll and a white sparkly dress. She never got them. He never showed up.

When she was about nine, a group of her brother’s friends started coming to the house. He was about fourteen years old then. She was somewhat friendly with them. Mostly because she was considered a reserved child, and had very few friends of her own. When she hit puberty somewhere around age twelve, the guys all started making advances. It was a joke in the beginning. Who would she serve water first whenever they came to visit? Who would help her with her homework… who would explain the silly movies they were watching to her. She enjoyed the attention, and would wear really small clothes because she noticed the girls they usually ogled wore clothes like that. And then she noticed that they paid her more attention on those days.

Although they all jokingly wanted to woo her, there was one of them in particular who gave her the most attention. She liked him a lot. Sesime. He was not the most attractive of the bunch, but he was the one who paid her the most attention. He would never leave their home without giving her a compliment or two. She enjoyed his lingering gazes a lot more than she did the others’ because he always had something lovely to say along with the gazes. He talked to her about some of the high school kids and the crazy things they did. He asked her what she thought about things. He offered to help her with homework all the time. She liked him a lot.

He kissed her first on her thirteenth birthday. He had written her a long note, and had come in early in the morning, before her brother was up to give it to her. It was still a bit dark, and she was supposed to be doing chores. He handed her the note, and sang a whispered “Happy Birthday” song for her, and then gave her a quick soft kiss on the lips.

That’s how their ‘relationship’ started. She was thirteen, and he was eighteen. It was a weird relationship. There were times when he didn’t want to be seen with her, and other times when he literally worshipped the floor she walked on. It was confusing, but she enjoyed the attention. So she stomached it all.

She was about sixteen when it happened. The incident that changed her life. Two incidents actually. The first one occurred late one Friday evening. Her aunt had travelled out of town to a funeral, and her brother had decided to host a small party for his friends at their house. They were also inviting many girls. He had only recently started taking in alcohol, and enjoyed the high it gave him.

That night, four of his friends took turns having their way with Naana. What hurt the most, was that Sesime was one of them – he was the first! Her brother was stuporous by then.  She begged, and cried and screamed, and they seemed oblivious to her plight. Or rather, they enjoyed it! Because they were laughing the whole time. The music was too loud, nobody outside could hear her. They were way stronger, and seemed to have had it all planned out.

She had heard that they did these things. Especially to the girls in the town who played hard to get. But she didn’t expect she’d ever experience it. She definitely didn’t expect it to involve Sesime too. Besides, he’d never even asked for sex. Maybe if he had, she’d have given it to him. She’d never played hard to get. She had genuinely liked him.

She tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Because who would believe her? Her brother was there. Why didn’t he save her? There were other girls. Why was she the only one? She was in a skimpy dress… why wouldn’t they rape her? She was just sixteen. What was she even doing at such a party?

So she kept quiet. She didn’t even tell her brother.

The second incident occurred about six months later, when a speeding Ford hit the motorcycle her brother was on, while on his way to run an errand. He landed off the road, and everyone assumed he was dead. When a taxi driver finally rushed him to the hospital, they were told he needed emergency surgery, after which he could be paralyzed for life. He didn’t even make it to the surgery. He lost too much blood, they said.

The first time she saw Sesime after the incident was after her brother’s death, at the funeral. It was about a year after the initial incident. He was apparently in University… That was a big deal. All the girls were all over him. She avoided him like a plague.

He cornered her towards the end. Said he had something to say to her. She didn’t know how scared she was until he asked why she was shaking. He had the nerve to ask why she was shaking! Before he could say whatever it is he wanted to, she had fled into the kitchen. Good thing she didn’t have a knife, because she would have killed him. The rage and fear combination she felt, definitely played with her thoughts.

She never saw him again. Her aunt asked her to prepare to be sent to her father. She knew that was never going to happen. The day she was supposed to get her documents sent to obtain a passport, a middle-aged man met her, and asked if she wanted to become a high class lady with a degree. He explained to her that she would be paid, and within about 4 years of working and schooling together, she would be free to go home with all the money she’d earned. She liked the idea. She told her aunt she was going to school, packed her bags and left. She was happy to have whatever reason there was to leave that house.

The man sent her to live with a lady for a while, till she was actually eighteen.

That was how she ended up at the agency.


“Dr. Anto, The patient has refused to give consent. Says he’s royalty…can’t go into eternity without a limb… The resident tried to reason with him, but…”

It didn’t look like the scheduled amputation was going to happen. This wasn’t he first patient who said this.  He wasn’t going to be the last.

Between his private hospital and work at the General Teaching Hospital, Derrick was usually swamped! His wife lived in Tema, (about an hour away when traffic was sensible) with the kids, while he usually stayed in the hospital quarters because there, he had his peace of mind.

There was no “Enti Kofi, entumi nfa wo socks nto washer no mu?”, or the usual “Ay3 wo ho workaholic. Your children barely know you, nanso daabi…. Dabiaaa it’s case wei, anaa case wei…” This living arrangement had been working for the past 5 years. Their oldest was ten, and the youngest seven. He tried to go home fortnightly, and sometimes he’d get the kids over to do something. Once in a while he’d have them sleep over at his place.

He started using the agency only a year ago – and already he couldn’t get enough of it! One of his long-term patients witnessed a phone call between him and Celine, and said he would “help him.” He only needed discretion in return. The first weekend he got there was one he could never get out of his head. He had gotten his emails, and had had all the paperwork done. They’d ask for his preferences in a woman, and he’d been very detailed – thin, but with full breasts and buttocks. Very light skinned, white, if they had that, and very short. The woman they brought him, was the exact kind he’d envisioned. She was also a very skilled lady. Because somehow, she left him shaking!

He was tired of Celine who was always ordering him about when she could, with her ever persistent nagging. So in his mind, to get back at her, he wanted someone who was the exact opposite of her. Celine was tall and big. Had always been. But two children later, she was even bigger. Before the kids, she’d at least had a good waistline, and he was okay with that. I mean, which African man didn’t want something thick to hold on to? But they got married, and after child number one, she let herself go. He was also too busy at work to notice much. And then child number two came, and it got worse. That, coupled with her constant nagging, caused him to gradually move out of their home.

She was a caterer for multiple Hotels in Accra… she got busy from time to time.  But generally, she had quite a lot of time on her hands. Most of the work was done by her cooks. She wanted him home.  He genuinely enjoyed his job. Some called them the carpenters of the profession. The bone breakers. And fixers. He didn’t care. He enjoyed it. He made good money. But it made family life difficult. Celine made it even harder. He couldn’t fault her though. Anyone would want the person they married home a few times a week at least. Her approach was what he had an issue with. She was too naggy! The demands of the job sometimes pushed him to stay weeks in the hospital. In the beginning, once in a while, he’d have some nurse take care of some of his needs. They were mostly all over him anyway. He was a 6ft male, with great abs and a good build – one of the few perks of the job. Who wouldn’t want to hit that?

But he didn’t want to start rumours. One thing he prided himself in was his reputation. He didn’t follow anything in skirts the way a number of his colleagues did. He was known for more honourable things. “As for Dr. Anto, even if you call him at 3 in the morning for any emergency, he’ll show up! And he’s excellent!”

So the agency was really a good thing for him. On the few occasions when he had the time, he’d go spend a weekend. When he didn’t, he’d go in for just a night. It worked for him. Celine assumed he was too immersed with his job. She hadn’t even tried to look good for him in so long. He no longer expected her to. It was always one quarrel or another whenever he did go home.

The hospital was his home. But gradually, the agency was becoming his happy place.

Akaa & Alima II

The second part is out! (Already!! Don’t I deserve any accolades please? Lol!) Thank’s for the feedback on the last one guys!

PS. It might get a bit steamy in here… lol, but lets see how it goes eh? As always, please let me know what you think. (Especially what I can do better :D) If you haven’t read the first one yet, find it here: Akaa & Alima

Enjoy your weekend! ❤


She was 12. Obviously the youngest in the maternity room. And shrieking in terrible pain. “Your colleagues are sitting behind desks studying, and look where you are!”

“Don’t you dare scream – you shouldn’t have been sleeping around in the first place!!”

“If I hear you one more time, you will spell out to me this minute what you were doing with a man, when you were supposed to be in school!”

There were only two nurses that were actually nice to her.  Some were indifferent. Others only insulted her behind her back. None of them actually knew the story, but it didn’t really matter. She was in so much pain, she doubted their being nice would make any difference. She just wanted the thing out of her as soon as possible.

The doctor had scheduled her for a C – section, but she’d gone into labour way before. She was apparently already close enough by the time she got to the hospital. So they let her try.

At the point when she thought the pain was going to make her pass out, one of the nice nurses started shouting! The head is here, finish hard!

It was a baby boy.

Adzo never really knew who her father was. He could have been any of the many men her mother brought home from time to time when she was much younger. When she was ten, she started seeing one man more often than the rest. He was a scary bulky man, for whom her mother would cook proper meals. He seemed to give her money also, because suddenly they were eating better than before, and wearing better clothes.

They moved in to live with him about six months later. And that’s when it all started. It started with little anger issues. And steadily progressed to very harsh words. “If I hadn’t brought you and your daughter out of that gutter you were living in, would you be here telling me whatever you want to say?” A few times, there were actual hot slaps!

A few months after they’d moved in with him, she could tell her mother was fed up. But she needed the help. She wanted Adzo to go to a good school, and she wanted to get more from the provision store he had set up for her. And of course, she was enjoying the ‘upgrade’. She was no longer the rumour of their tiny village. Those who insulted her in the past no longer had grounds to.

He started forcing himself on Adzo when she was eleven. She was so scared, it took her a whole month to report him. The first time she told her mother, she slapped her hard across her face with the back of her right hand! Her large fake ring left a tiny cut on her face. ‘You are a witch! You want to spoil my marriage eh? You and that bastard father of yours were brought into my life to destroy me eh?! It will not work!’

He was there that evening. He knew why she was being beaten. He knew he had leverage now. So he kept at it.

She had no idea when she got pregnant. Her period hadn’t even regularized since menarche. She passed out in school one hot Wednesday afternoon, and was rushed to hospital. All she saw when she got conscious was her mother wailing.

“Adzo you just want to disgrace me in this life.” Her stepfather was sitting next to her, looking just as disappointed. That was probably what confused her the most. “Who is the father? Which schoolboy have you been messing around with?”

Apparently she’d gotten anaemic, and a routine pregnancy test they did for all young girls showed she was pregnant. Her parents had been called and told. Suddenly, she was the bad girl.

She remembered crying so much, wondering if anyone was ever going to believe her. One afternoon, before she was discharged home, one young doctor walked in and sat with her. “If you want me to call the police, I will.” That’s all she said. She knew. Someone finally believed her. Of course she had asked her not to call the police. It was a taboo to bite the hand that fed you. She didn’t want her mother hating her all the rest of her life.

After the baby was born, her mother had her sent to live with her father’s family. She never actually met the man himself. But after a week in their home, she was sent to the City. She’d heard them talk about where they were sending her. They assumed she could only speak Ewe. She had friends who spoke Twi. She knew they were sending her someplace that took young girls and gave the family good money. She didn’t care at that point. She didn’t know what the point of her existence was really. They might as well send her far far away.

It was the last time she saw any of her family members.


It was at noon that Akaa was given the letter. Alima (Her name was Lina to her clients.) was brought in to him an hour later. She was dressed in a wine tank top, and mid-thigh length white jeans. She was beautiful. Very beautiful. Tall, and dark. Glossy dark. Lupita kind of dark. Her eyes were big and searching, her lips were naturally very full. Akaa hardly met females that were anywhere near his height. But this one could easily stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

“You must be Mr.  007 – it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you!” Her heart was thumping the whole time, as she extended her hand to greet him. He was even more striking than he looked in the photo.

“I am, and you must be Lina, you’re very beautiful!”  

They exchanged pleasantries, and decided they wanted to go for a swim.

The agency had two indoor swimming pools, and two outdoor ones. Their whole resort was very security conscious, because of the clientele they had, and the kind of privacy they required. So it didn’t matter which of the pools they chose – they would have all the privacy they needed.

They decided on the outside pool. He wanted to see her beauty in sunlight. She changed into a dark red bikini, which complimented her dark skin so beautifully. Akaa had seen so many beautiful women. He’d dated many, even had many of them move to him. But this young girl somehow had him reeling.

“I’d be really happy if you could put this sunscreen on my back… my skin tends to feel a bit weird when I’ve been in the sun too long.”  Akaa was more than happy to. He lay her on her back, and lathered the sunscreen all over, in a very salacious manner.

“Is this why you have such beautiful skin? Sunscreen?” She laughed.

“My skin is all good genes. Almost no effort. I wish I had some sort of routine to share.” They both chuckled.

Lina had been taught all what to do… she’d been prepared a whole year for this client. But it seemed as if she was forgetting all she was taught. She genuinely liked him! In preparation, she had had five other clients, and none of them were anything like Akaa.

They were hardly interested in her as a person. They only wanted the discreet adventurous sex they paid so heavily for, and that was it. Probably just one of them actually knew/remembered what her name was.

Akaa was interested in her. He wanted to hear her life story – of course she was not supposed to tell it. She didn’t. He looked at her like he wanted her – not just for the sex. Like she was desirable, as a person. He gave her butterflies. And that was almost a new concept for her.

In the swimming pool, he wasn’t interested in groping her underwater, as apparently was the custom of many of the men. He wanted to race her for a few laps. He splashed her with water, and she retaliated. He was fun. She liked fun.

Lina had been instructed to tease him – and that she did. Tease him till the stroke of midnight – no sex, no head. They’d watched a movie in the living room of his suite. It was one of those touchy feely ones, and she had been in his arms the whole time. Stroking his thigh half the time, noting how aroused he was, and purposely pretending she hadn’t.

He swung her head around at one point, and kissed her. It was a slow kiss. As if he really wanted to taste her. She didn’t protest, until his hands started going up her shirt. It wasn’t quite that bad till she felt his fingers on her right nipple. She started questioning herself. She was probably not going to be able to hold back till midnight like she thought. This was the first man she had actually wanted. The others were obviously duty, even though she was great at acting as if she wanted them. This one, she wished she could have – and they hadn’t even made love yet.

“You’re torturing me, Lina!”  She only laughed, and walked to the bar, to grab a drink. She swayed her broad hips as much as she could – she knew he’d be watching.

It was a little after 10PM when their movie ended. And she had to figure out a way to fill the time, or he’d have her on her knees in five minutes.

“You know, you still have this innocence about you. And I know that to be working here, and be sent to me in particular, you must have been here a while.”

She smiled. “I don’t think I’m innocent, Sir.”

“Please call me Akaa. I know I’m not supposed to tell you my name. But I like you. Call me Akaa.”

It was when they finally got round to love making that she knew she was screwed. She knew there was no way she would forget him. There was no way she could work with other men without thinking of this night. While she was bent on pleasing him, and ensuring that he had a grand start to his 40th birthday, he had his mind set on ensuring her pleasure as well. As she squirmed uncontrollably in his hands after he’d expertly eaten her out, he lay watching her for a while, and then started kissing her face and ears and neck and chest.


Akaa was amazed. Not many women had brought out this feral sex beast out of him. Lina was beautiful. She was… innocent, for the lack of a better word. She knew what she was doing, but she lacked the outrageous expertise that came with knowing a girl had been with so many men.

She was just perfect. Didn’t try to make a show of her orgasms – they overwhelmed her thoroughly, she seemed almost embarrassed by them. She didn’t seem like a sham. He knew many of the girls were.

And when she went down to give him head, he could swear he saw shooting stars! She started slow and thorough, and before he could say jack, she had him all the way back to her throat. He came in her mouth, and she gagged for a bit, trying to swallow it all.

What a woman!

“I love it when a woman can tell me what she wants or doesn’t want during sex.”

She seemed surprised by his remark.

“You want me ranting and raving and panting altogether?” He chuckled… “Was I that bad?” She laughed out loud.

“I don’t know for sure if I know exactly what I want. I haven’t been with m….”

She paused, embarrassed. Because she knew that she was supposed to be experienced. She was supposed to know these things, somehow she really didn’t.

“I did enjoy everything we did… She said, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

He kissed her neck and held her tight against his chest. He realised she was going to be in his thoughts anytime he and Dionne made love.

And none of the girls had ever had that effect on him.

Perspectives X

March 2020! Just three months into the year and somehow we wish we could start it all over! We pray for much better times ahead!

I’ve got a big surprise! As I mentioned, this will be the final online part of Perspectives.

I’m happy to announce that Perspectives is getting published into a book in a few months! I’m grateful for all the support and the love and the feedback (also for all the threats and the 2am discussions – I really love you guys!) Let’s anticipate the book! Let’s share Perspectives with the world!

Aaand If you’re a little late to the party, or a little behind, you can find the other parts right here:

Perspectives IIIIII , IVV , VIVIIVIII & IX

Love,

Elise


Sometimes, God’s answers are a firmly shut door.

The funeral was very solemn. He was a well-known, well-loved man.

There was none of the usual celebrations that people were used to at funerals or wakes. The atmosphere was grave… literally.

Sarah was inconsolable. It was as if she’d finally realised what could have been.

She’d played so many scenes in her head countless times! Like that time when he took her on a boat cruise because she was stressed. She kinda gave him hell, but she had a good time! Then there was that time, when she was pregnant, he’d rub her feet every evening before she went to bed, because he knew it felt good and she liked it. There was no way she was going to land a man like him again. Especially with her attitude, and she knew it.

Oh, Bruma!

His little girls were in cute black dresses. The oldest had been very quiet. She could somehow tell what had happened, and she knew that this was tragic. The youngest was in wondrous oblivion, running between different family and church members. She was a happy soul, much like her father had been a few years ago.

Nadia wasn’t at the funeral. Sarah knew because she looked out for her.

God, Bruma was a good man, I’m so sorry!

As the senior pastor preached, Sarah thought back to that letter she had written to him before he died. Was she to blame?

“So many times we question God. Why do good people die? Why does such a great man of God have to die so soon?”

“What becomes of his family? Did God not think about that before taking him away?”

I didn’t love him as much as I should, but God, Bruma deserved a good end to life!

“There’s never an appropriate answer to these things. One day in Heaven, there are so many questions God will answer for us. Sometimes we say this person or that person deserved a happy ending. Brothers and Sisters, Pastor Bruma’s good ending is in the bosom of the Lord! This world of rot isn’t where our happy ending is. This world of disease and death, stress and fear… This world isn’t great!”

It was a good thing that Bruma’s brothers were not stressful people. The extended family had started some drama, but it was to be expected. They knew Bruma had some wealth, and they knew there was no way they could have it all. Sarah wasn’t going to let them.

She thought about Nadia. Where was she? Why didn’t she show up? It was pretty obvious she was in love with Bruma, and Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they did have a thing before he died.

It didn’t matter now. He was gone. She had disappeared too.

Sarah was jostled out of her sleep by Nadia opening the door. The door had this squeaky sound it made.

It had been 4 weeks. Maybe this dream was the indicator.

The doctors had discussed it with her so often. His brothers had visited, and had also been talked to. Initially it was a very vehement No.

With time, it was looking as if there was little that could be done anymore.

He was taken of the vent a week ago, and he was somehow breathing spontaneously. He didn’t have the abnormal heart rhythms anymore. But he was still not conscious.

Bruma was gone. Sarah sighed.

It was time to pull the plugs.


Dear Adeola,

Your letter was quite interesting to read.

I think about you too. More than I’ve thought about any man before in my adult life. And trust me, there have been an insane number of men who have assumed I should think of them.

Unfortunately, I wish the letter was enough to let me let down my guard and run back into your arms… I do miss you, but I don’t know if this is it.

Regarding your wife/ex-wife/soon-to-be-ex-wife… I’m sorry about your loss. But hey, don’t you think it’s so unfair of you to decide to hold her back because you’re not ready to move on?

It’s interesting how some men will always try to find a way to control women. I’m glad I ‘brought you to your senses’ and glad that you’re finally signing your papers and getting your divorce. Good on you!

Unfortunately this makes me wonder what lengths you’d go to, to keep me from doing something if it didn’t agree with you.

You take me back to my twenties, when I still had butterflies in my tummy for a man, when I lived and dreamed that fairy tale life. It’s a beautiful thing. It feels good to know that my ‘heart of stone’ can actually fall in love again. And I’m grateful to you for showing me this!

But apart from the fact that I barely know you, I’m gradually getting the feeling that you don’t take it too well when things don’t go your way. Things will not always go your way Adeola, and that’s not always a bad thing. You move on, and you make it work.

I wish this was the reply you anticipated. I wish I could say that knowing the full story makes it easier for me to run back to you. I’ve come to care a lot about you, and this isn’t an easy decision.

I’m happy to remain friends with you, to figure out if ever I can stop being sceptical about you.

Thank you for sharing the truth with me however. Somehow, it puts things into perspective for me. On a lighter note, it looks like I can check ‘falling in love with a married man’ off my bucket list!

I’m happy to hang out and meet once in a while, but please don’t expect too much.

Best,

Yaa.


They had somehow fallen into some sort of unwritten, unspoken routine. Sarah did the day shifts, usually heading home at around 6pm, to return at 6am. Nadia did the evenings and nights. It had been a week, and there was little to no sign of improvement. There was one time when Nadia thought she saw him move. She rushed out to call the nurse in the corridor, only to come back to a completely still Bruma.

“It must have been a figment of your imagination Ma’am. There’s nothing to show any activity. I know you want this badly, and sometimes it can make you see these things.”

Sarah hadn’t said anything about the letter yet. There was no use. First of all, because there was no telling if he would even come back to life, secondly, she didn’t enjoy drama. But mostly because she felt indebted to this woman. All she knew about her was that her name was Nadia, and she was from the United States. Whatever affair she had with Bruma, it was unlikely they were physically intimate, he hadn’t been to the US in so long. And when he did, he was in the company of church people. Unless of course she had been the one to come to Ghana, she didn’t see how an affair was possible.

You’ve pushed a man that cared so much about you to an early grave!


Wendy had discussed Adeola with Yaa after the letter. Somehow it looked as if she was looking for excuses to not be vulnerable – and she’d told her this. Even though she didn’t think she was going to be with any man anytime soon, (or if ever), she knew that Yaa was in love. It was obvious. Yet she didn’t seem to want to be put into that vulnerable situation anymore. “That’s the thing with you ‘boss-chicks’, Yaa! You don’t want to be helpless in any situation.” She laughed.

They were walking the baby around Yaa’s neighbourhood. He was such a bright eyed baby boy, turning his head to look out of his pram at everything they passed.

“Give him a chance! At least now you know he’s gotten that divorce.”

“Madam, I thought you had sworn off men a few months ago, look at you asking me to run after a man!”

This was the friendship they both needed. The kind of friendship every woman needs. No judgement, no fear, just true, profound companionship.


The minute she woke up, everything from the day before started flooding her mind. She could almost see it all again. She felt blank for a short while – almost as if she was watching it play in a movie, something unreal. And when that lifted, that’s when she felt pure heartbreak. For over an hour, she cried hard. For all she’d given, all the sacrifices she’d made, all that she’d almost given up, and most importantly for what she was about to do.

At noon, she knew she had to check out. She also had to eat something. She ordered a sandwich in their restaurant, and picked it up on her way out.

She made straight for her parents’ house, knowing that her dad would be home and would have questions. She didn’t know if she was ready to talk. All she needed was to work. To get her mind off all of this.

“OJ… This is Dr. Akyia.”

“I know I haven’t called you in ages! I’ve been out of town for a while, and I’m only back for a short bit.”

“I can’t say I’m well.”

“I need your help with something. I need an expedited divorce!”

“I caught him in bed with another man.”

She almost broke into tears saying those words. It still felt unreal.

“Yes, Monday morning should be fine. Thank you OJ. I appreciate this.”


Andrea woke up in OJ’s arms a very content woman. He was still fast asleep when she woke up. He didn’t snore much, but he had this heavy breathing that for some funny reason was endearing to her. And she felt his breath tickling her neck.

She didn’t want to move much and wake him.

The music was still playing, but it was more hush now.

They’d spent most of the night drinking and dancing in his living room. He was such a good dancer. And he was goofy. They did rap battles to really old songs from when they were kids, and then they slow danced to Luther Vandross and Backstreet Boys songs. The night ended beautifully – drunk sex!

How had she missed out on these little things in her marriage? Or was it the marriage tag that took them away? She and Gyedu had never had anything remotely close to this – not even when they were dating.

Yet she hoped he had no plans of asking her to marry him anytime soon. She wasn’t ready… and she didn’t want any of this disappearing into thin air. This is the happiest she had been in so long!

It was probably close to noon, but they hadn’t really made any plans. They’d promised to pick the boys from her mother’s place to see an animation at the cinema later in the evening. Speaking of her mother, she knew that she had many questions to answer soon. She had seen that look on her face, and she knew she had to start preparing her answers.

He stirred behind her, and held her closer, nibbling on her ear. “You dance so well even in bed!” He grazed his fingers lightly on her arms, giving her goosebumps.

It felt good. She turned around to kiss him. Morning breath or not, they started making out, and she could already tell what they’d be doing all afternoon.

They were interrupted by a phone call.

He wasn’t going to pick up, but she shoved him towards the phone.

“Oh hi, Dr. Akyiaa,”

“Haha yes, it’s been really long! How are you doing?”

“Wait, what? Why? What happened?”

“Oh wow! I can clear up some things from my Monday morning. Is that fine with you?”

He hung up, with a faraway look on his face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“You can’t tell anyone this! My friend caught her husband in bed with another man! She wants a divorce.”

Andrea was suddenly nauseous.


Nadia was doing some work on her MacBook. There was a lot that needed to be done in person, and they wanted to know if she was coming back anytime soon. Of course she couldn’t be too sure. It had been a month already. He was off the vent and breathing by himself now, so that was definitely some progress. The doctors didn’t seem too enthusiastic though, but she knew he would come to. He had to!

That’s when she heard Bruma sigh.

She thought she’d imagined it. Probably like that first time when she thought she’d seen him move.

But it happened again, and his eyes started to flutter.

Nadia sat still for a minute. Her heart was thumping!

She needed to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. She shut the laptop, and placed it on the floor.

Bruma opened his eyes. He looked into her eyes, and she didn’t know what to do. What if she moved, and all this turned out to be some illusion?

He coughed a bit.

It was real. He wasn’t dead. He was moving. His eyes were open, he was alive!

“Dry.” He whispered, pointing to his neck area.

“Water.”

Nadia was on her feet, but she couldn’t move. She was dumbstruck… totally dumbfounded.

He shut his eyes again for a minute, and she moved closer to his bed. Maybe she really was hallucinating. He opened his eyes and tried to reach out to her with his hands. It was a weak effort. She went straight to him now, in tears.

He noticed the tears and tried to touch her face. She crouched by his bed, her face close to his, grateful, and joyful, with so many emotions bubbling in her heart.

She heard the footsteps, but it was as if she had been glued to his side.

He was alive!

“I don’t know if you understand, Doc. I had a very vivid dream of what his funeral would be like. Maybe it was a sign.”

“It has been a little too long, and chances of full recovery are very slim. But I believe we can give it another week?”

“I think it’s time to end all this. Let’s pull his plugs, Doc.” Sarah said as she walked through the door.

She gasped and dropped her handbag, almost losing her footing…

Bruma smiled at her. Nadia gasped.


I hope you’re looking forward to the book the same way I am! I’ll send updates and progress reports when I can. In the meantime, let’s share this with everyone! Leave a comment, ask a question, tell me what you think, and tell someone about Perspectives!

PS. Let’s get ready for another online roller coaster soon!

Perspectives IX

Happy February Guys!! It’s the month of Love, and I wish everyone as much love as possible in the rest of the year! The Penultimate part of Perspectives is here! And as always, please keep the feedback coming!

Also Perspectives is likely to be published into a book sometime soon…. Hands up if you’d be interested in a copy lol!

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

Hugs,

Elise


Sometimes, God is quiet.

God, you can’t let Bruma die. I don’t know what I’d do. I’m distraught. And I’m scared. And I don’t even know if going is the right thing to do, but I’m going anyway.

The only available flights out were first class tickets on a South African Airline flight, which required that they fly out to Dulles, transit for an hour, and then fly ten hours directly to Ghana.  She didn’t mind the outrageous cost. She was numb and tired… and terrified. Mackenzie was a bit fussy initially. But he seemed to realise his mother was not quite in the mood for his fuss.

It was a very long 10 hours.

She imagined the worst – and the best. Sleep evaded her all ten hours. She wanted to hurl at a point, and she knew she couldn’t blame the crappy plane food or air sickness.

Dear Bruma

If you never get to see this letter, I’ll be the most miserable woman alive. I’ve lost love once in the past. I can’t lose you a second time Bruma. Doesn’t matter that we don’t get to be together, it matters that at least I get to see you, or talk to you. It matters that you’re alive, and that I have my friend of so many years with me.

It hurt me that you would even wonder if it would make any difference to me if you died. It would make a world of difference Bruma. You matter. And you don’t only matter to me.

So many nights, I create this mini family in my head, where you’re the father, I’m the mother, Mack has an adorable baby sister, and we’re one happy family. I day dream about the loving man you are….and how I know for sure I wouldn’t have to bother myself wondering if you loved me.

I haven’t particularly come back running into your arms the way I wish I could because… well life… Considering the circumstances, with Sarah, the church, and all that society does and says, I didn’t want to be the reason why your family would break apart. And even if I wasn’t the reason, the church would never understand that – people in general, would never understand.

My mind is dashing everywhere… all the things I left unsaid, all the things I wanted to say about Sarah’s treatment of you… all the support I wish I’d given you, how I wish I’d had the courage back then to stand up to your mother. And how I feel like maybe if you’d had just a little courage in standing up to her I’d have taken the cue.

I can’t believe you tried to do this. I can’t imagine how bad the hurt must have been. I wish I could have seen through your pain and your efforts. I wish I could have done more. I really really hope you live, Bruma.  

I love you so much!  I never stopped. I never will. And this 10 hour flight is too much time, I don’t know what I’d do if you died. Please Bruma, choose life.

I know how broken you were, and I was so proud of your efforts – therapy, prayer, actually speaking about it (on the few occasions that you did). Being broken doesn’t make you any less of a man, Bruma. Accepting it and working on it is the bravest thing to do, and you did it. You did it! The world can be a terrible place… and of all the cruelty we’ve ever had to deal with, I hope your death will not be one. Not now.

I love you. Please come back to.

Please Bruma

Nady.


Sometimes, God probably just laughs at us from above.

Bruma was in a coma. Sarah didn’t understand how it had happened or how the other woman had known. Bruma was all sorts of things she didn’t want, but he definitely wasn’t a cheater.

She was frantic, pacing in the hospital half the time. Was she the reason he had committed suicide?

The doctor couldn’t tell if he would come out of the coma or not. There was no indication of how much of the drugs he had taken, but if it was enough to get him straight into a comatose state, then it was definitely a lot. She wasn’t paying much attention to what the doctor said she didn’t know what to feel.

This was a man she didn’t quite love, but he had been good to her. So good to her! Very few men were like him. And although he annoyed her and often made her want to leave, death wasn’t what she wished for him. She didn’t know what she’d do. And the girls definitely didn’t love her the way they loved him.

God, I will try to be a better wife if you wake him up, I promise!

He was still not up the next morning. She had wanted to go home to shower and come back, but there was no difference, and it felt so odd seeing him lifeless. She had informed the other pastors and the presbytery to pray. And she’d asked that none of them visit, because really there was nothing to see. Their prayers were enough.

She couldn’t get the nagging feeling about the other woman out of her mind though. Was Bruma actually sleeping with her?

She convinced herself that he was – she could barely remember the last time they were intimate. And much as that was her fault, he had stopped initiating completely. They also hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long. The longest form of communication they’d had recently were through those letters they wrote each other. She felt her heart beat faster when she remembered the last one she wrote to him. He was not her choice – true…. But maybe she shouldn’t have been so cold about it.

“Bruma please wake up… I’m so sorry!”


There are things nobody prepares you for. Usually, a cheating spouse is one of them. And for some reason, it hurt more that he was not cheating with a person of her sex.

He was sleeping with a man.

Akyia was really seeing stars. Before she managed to get to the car in her confused state, she had thrown up all over the lawn. She didn’t understand what was going on. It was as if her brain had decided it didn’t want to carry on.

Was this new? Had she pushed him to do this? Is this something she could ever forget? He’d had his member in her so many times… and now it was in a random man’s ass! She knew that man… she was trying so hard to remember exactly where it was from. She didn’t think it was the hospital. Because then she’d have known him. Or was he a new friend?

“God why?!” She shouted out as she drove. She didn’t want to drive to her parents’. Didn’t want to answer any questions – at least not yet.

Her husband was suddenly a homosexual…

Was it sudden? Or was he just curious? How long had this been going on for?

Maybe she was hallucinating? To think she’d almost given up her lifelong dream to save this sham of a marriage they had!

The tears were blinding her and she knew she shouldn’t be driving in that state.

She parked on the sidewalk for a minute to think.

The tears weren’t going to stop, and she was giving herself a headache. She hadn’t even rested after her flight!

She drove to the nearest sensible looking hotel, and checked in for the night. She didn’t even know who she could talk to about this. At this point, she didn’t even want to talk. All she wanted was to pass out for a few days. Her head was pounding so hard by the time she got to her hotel room. She hadn’t eaten all day but that wasn’t her primary concern. She grabbed the beer in the hotel fridge, and downed 4 Advils. She lay on the bed wondering what she’d do.

“God I’m so happy there are no kids in this marriage…”


The queue at immigration was outrageous. She was glad someone pointed out that she could skip it because of Mackenzie. She scaled as quickly as she could, and was glad she hadn’t checked in a suitcase. Manoeuvring both of their hand luggage and a sleeping boy was difficult. She ordered an Uber before getting them outside.

Luckily her driver arrived just in time. She rushed him to her mother’s house, to drop Mackenzie. She called Sarah and asked for the hospital. She seemed hesitant initially, but told her anyway. It was about thirty minutes away. She changed the location and went back with the same Uber.


One look at her pained face and Sarah knew that she was in love with him. A woman always knows. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Because if not for this woman, she may not even have realised Bruma had taken anything. She would have assumed he had fallen asleep. And this morning they’d probably be at a morgue and not the hospital.

You’re probably headed to a morgue soon anyway.

They were both silent. Both of them just looking at the lifeless body. Nadia asked if Sarah wanted to take a break to freshen up.

She wanted to. But she didn’t want to give this one the satisfaction of being the one there when he woke up. If he woke up.

As time passed, the chances of his waking up became smaller and smaller. The doctor said his heart was the main issue now. Whatever he had taken had not only put him into a coma, it had also caused his heart to start functioning abnormally.

She eventually went home around 10PM.

Nadia watched him through the night. She held his hand through the night, speaking words to him. She took out her tear stained letter and read it to him. She prayed with him. She tried to pretend he was only taking a nap. She tried not to panic when her heart could tell he was slipping away.

There was no change in the morning when Sarah returned.


Yaa was meeting with Andrea and Wendy together for breakfast. The plan was to have a mini bible study, discuss a few things…. really just some girl chat. It felt nice hanging out with both of them. They’d only done it once, and already it felt like a thing she was ready to add to her weekly routine. Not only was it fun, it was helping her get over Adeola.

“I listened to a sermon by T.D Jakes…. can’t remember when it was, and it got me thinking about church…. about our church. He talked about how the pressure of fitting into a religious environment can tempt you into hypocrisy. We become more concerned about being accepted by the people we worship with, than we are about being used or accepted by God.”

“Back when Gyedu and I were having issues…. I asked that we go and see a church counsellor…. he told me he didn’t want anyone in the church thinking he was not in charge of our affairs – when clearly he wasn’t. It hurt me that he cared more of what others would think than he did about our failing marriage. He didn’t want people hearing about the divorce, he didn’t want people hearing anything remotely not normal about him. And I think that sickened me.”

Yaa completely understood her. Hypocrisy was stinking in the church. And it wasn’t something that was going to go away quick. She had days when she had to quickly correct some passing thought she’d had about someone, because obviously, she had no idea what she’d do in their shoes.

“Same thing as when I got pregnant. I expected some compassion I think. Even if it wasn’t from my friends, maybe from the presbytery? The pastors? Their wives? Heck I’m not the first to get pregnant out of wedlock, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. And sorry as I was, the church made me defiant. My main crime was getting caught to be honest. Because half of the churches population are shagging each other, and because they’re not ‘caught’, they get to look their noses down and tell me trash….”

Yaa knew she had to get in control of the emotions here.

“But hey ladies…. we were not called to a perfect church! We are the church, and just as imperfect as we are, everyone else can be. True, the self-righteousness and hypocrisy really should go… But whatever it is, Christ wants us! Wants our help in making His body whole!”

She hated the fact that it sounded as if she was preaching.

“I’m not righteous. At least not by my efforts I’m not. And I don’t hold anyone to the standard of Christ. Not even the leaders. Christ was the only one who was tempted in every way yet without sin. We’re not. Ours is to love, and do our best with the help of the Holy Spirit. And fellowship with other imperfect people to help build the church!”

She said the last statement with an obvious smile. They both knew what she was driving at.

Yaa said a silent prayer in her heart for their lives, and their churches, and this lovely newfound fellowship they were enjoying. She felt so much peace. Of course she prayed for help to get rid of Adeola from her heart.

Their breakfast ended up turning into a full blown lunch, with great mimosas. Andrea apparently knew one of the bartenders at that restaurant, so they managed to have them unlimited.

Yaa knew she was a lightweight – and an overly sentimental drunk. In Uni, she had been the first to get drunk after a shot. She would slow dance herself to loud Celine Dion songs, and cause her flat mate to go to sleep with ear plugs – there were probably just about 3 such occurrences. 

She had planned to spend the rest of the day at the beach, listening to music and reading a novel. Now, she knew she was going to go home and fall asleep singing Backstreet Boys. Wendy gave her a letter just when she was headed home.


Dear Yaa,

I really hope you decide to read this letter. Wendy told me she couldn’t help me meet you, but begrudgingly agreed to hand you this letter.

I’m so sorry Yaa. I don’t know why I never told you about this… her…the marriage.

I never took off my ring because I didn’t want a bunch of women assuming I was an eligible bachelor. I was so hurt by Fatima and her family.

You made me forget totally that I even had it on!

Fati and I got married despite the long talk from our families about incompatible tribes. She was an educated woman, from Chibok and all that ‘Hausas only marry Hausas’ was really not our cup of tea. She wasn’t really a staunch Muslim, and that worked for me, cos she was happy to join me to go to church services.

Her parents were also semi – educated, and I guess that made it a bit easier?

We had no issues for the first two or so year – actually, we had a very beautiful marriage in those years. We did not let the negativity of others faze us, and we had a united front. A few months into our third year, we started having petty quarrels… all boiling down to the fact that we had tried everything we could, and we still couldn’t have kids. Her parents were suddenly against the marriage like the rest of her family was, and were on a hunt for another man for her.

What hurt me, was the fact that she wasn’t vehemently against the idea. It made me so mad.

I noticed she was very calm about our issues. Never wanting to fix anything, quietly listen to me rant, not saying anything that bothered her… all of that.

My decision to not sign the papers for so long, was my silly way of punishing her, of rubbing it in her face that I still had some control – that she couldn’t go ahead to marry him until I’d signed the papers.

‘Him’ was another Hausa doctor that her parents had found somewhere, who was apparently going to bring an end to the infertility I had brought to their families.

It had nothing to do with me remaining in love with her or anything remotely close.

You’re a special woman. A few weeks of being friends and you have me wrapped around my finger – you have me ready to allow Fati to move on.

I have tried to get you out of my mind, because at some point, I felt like an idiot stalker. Please agree to lunch with me – breakfast even.

I’m really sorry about this whole misunderstanding.

I’ve signed the papers, Yaa. I’m a single man.

Regards,

Adeola.

Yaa looked at the letter half drunk, and smiled, humming to herself.

“Sometimes I wish I could, turn back time, impossible as it may seem, but I wish I could, so bad, Baby… Quit playing games with my heart”

************************

Nadia went to freshen up for a few hours. Her mind was too clogged.

She held a sleeping Mackenzie in her arms, and cried quietly. She didn’t want to wake him up.

Lord, please don’t let Bruma die. I can’t lose him twice.

***************************

Sarah saw the letter on the fridge top. It was semi crumpled, and had tear stains. It seemed to have been written in pencil, so some of the words were not legible.

Her heart beat faster and faster as she read the letter. Bruma was actually cheating?

She could only see snippets of the letter.

“Considering the circumstances, with Sarah… … …  I didn’t want to be the reason why your family would break apart. ……… the church would never understand that – people in general, would never understand.”

“….. Mack has an adorable baby sister, and we’re one happy family. ….. about the loving man you are….and how I know for sure I wouldn’t have to bother myself wondering if you loved me. “

….. “I love you… please come back to me”

Sarah was stunned! Her husband was cheating!

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 😀

Six Years Late

I closed from work late and tired. Good thing Kweinuaa was sleeping over at Wendy’s. I was a little too exhausted for her bedtime stories and long goodnights… and I was having one of those emotional evenings when weird flashbacks from the past were unsettling me. I smiled, remembering her incessant requests last night – mummy, maybe a piggy back ride will make me fall asleep faster than Beauty and the Beast.

It was our turn to have the power out, so I wasn’t surprised at the darkness in the neighbourhood, with a few lit houses, and the loud hums of different generators as I turned onto our lane. I hope Sule remembered to buy the fuel, I muttered to myself.

When I got onto the compound, I thought of taking a shower and just going to bed. Then I thought, it’s a Friday night, and you haven’t had one like this in ages, maybe call the girls and meet up for some drinks? Or maybe just go to bed? Or maybe get yourself a glass of wine and that book you planned to read last month?

I’ll think of something once I get inside. I sat in the car for five minutes. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes and breathe out all the stress for just five minutes.

I woke up with a jolt. I had ‘dozed off’ for the past hour and 48 minutes. 12:26AM. Screw that shower. Straight to bed it is.

I walked in the darkness first to the outhouse to put on the generator – no fuel.

I groped my way inside, stripped of my clothes, and lay on the bed. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to think.

Then I heard a sigh.

Why was there a sigh that wasn’t mine? It must all be in your head… you’re tired.

“I thought you’d never get out of the car.

Goosebumps. I clutched the blanket to my chest instinctively.

I knew that voice. Knew it too well.

My pulse was thundering in my head. I hadn’t heard that voice in a very long while.

It was a voice that had calmed my nerves many times. It’d sung to me on several occasions. It had whispered sweet nothings into my ears in the past. It used to be my favourite voice.

My eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness. And I could see his outline. Couldn’t make his face out… it was too dark for that, and his eyes were either only half open or closed. His voice was raspy. Like he had just woken up? I was still silent.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked.

It was also the same voice that had accused me of infidelity, and walked out without even listening for an explanation. It was that same voice that had angrily asked me to carry my pregnancy to ‘whoever was responsible.’

It was the voice Kweinuaa should have heard daily, growing up.  It was the voice that had been away for the past six years, without much of a trace.

The first time Kweinuaa asked me where her daddy was, I thought I’d faint. She was barely four, and I was not prepared for it. I took her to my mother’s that night, and got drunk. I hadn’t had to think about him in so long, and suddenly, I not only had to think, I had to explain to her. What would I say? Your daddy thinks you’re not his daughter… and he didn’t even stay around long enough to check and be sure!

It was quite ironic. We’d wanted kids for two long years. One year after marriage – for we dedicated one year to being ‘crazy in love’… we started trying. After that year, we tried… two years of trying. One year with no interventions, and the last year with all possible tests and medication, etc. We almost tried IVF.

But then it finally happened. I got pregnant. I decided I’d surprise him. You know, these extra things that people do. Bake a cake and put a note in it? Or balloons? I needed it to be special.

But I couldn’t. I was too excited to keep it in while baking a cake. I ended up blurting it out over dinner. I was expecting the excitement I felt to be mirrored in his eyes. I was expecting a kiss, maybe some dancing, and a very steamy night.

But when I told him, he looked me in the eye, and called me a cheat. Me. Ekua.

I’d never seen him that way. Three years of marriage – and it was not a marriage that hadn’t had issues – yet I had never ever seen him like that. He stormed out into the night, and left me too shocked for words or tears. He returned the next morning, and asked me to send the baby to the father, whoever he may be. Did he think he was infertile? Or was he having some sort of mid-life crisis? Because the baby couldn’t possibly have put itself there. I had been a faithful wife. He was an amazing husband, and nothing would have made me cheat.

He spent less and less time at home after that, till he was practically only returning on the weekends to pick clothes and leave. His parents tried to talk to him. My mother tried to talk to him. Our pastors. A couple of colleagues. I tried. If he wanted a DNA test, I was completely for it. He wouldn’t even listen. I’d never been that depressed. It was a classic case of the broken heart.

Three months later, he took a job promotion that sent him to Mauritius. He didn’t tell me directly. He left a note on our bed, together with signed divorce papers – The very bed he sat across from right now. I was six months along then; I’d survived the horrible months of morning sickness without him, I’d survived the back pain, and odd feeling feet. I’d driven myself about 45 minutes at 3am one day, to get a pork sandwich from the only place I knew to run 24hours. I’d considered an abortion on so many occasions. I’d wondered what the point was. I was 27, pregnant and alone – for no reason whatsoever.

The night he left, I planned to go to the airport. I’d spoken to his best friend who was going to take him to the airport. He would stall and ensure we met.

That afternoon, I started bleeding!

I drove myself to the hospital, in a frenzy. I called his phone – of course he didn’t pick up. I called his best friend, and explained it to him. I listened as he told him. I listened as he scolded him, to try and make him reason. I heard the silence.

And then after the long silence, he said “Ebo… Mi’ya!” It was the last time I heard that voice.

I made up my mind that night. I’d be fine. I would get over him and be okay. Of course, easier said than done!

I had Kweinuaa a month later. A premature little girl, with little chance of survival – at least that was what I was told. I thought of leaving her at the hospital. Or giving her up for adoption. But then I held her the first time, and knew I couldn’t do it.

Nature wasn’t cruel to me. She looked nothing like her father. She was a spitting image of myself.

So after close to six months of hospital shenanigans, I brought my daughter home for good, with a resolve to be okay. And we were okay. For the first year, Mama came to live with me. And I threw myself into work, and into my Kweinuaa. She was lovely! She started swimming lessons at 2, Ballet at 3, and mini piano at 4. She started reading at 4 – well ahead of her peers. She was a smart child.

My friends, and family had tried to set me up with so many different men, on so many occasions. One – third of them were idiots who didn’t want a woman who already had a child. Another one-third were men who wanted to be babied and pampered and chosen over Kweinuaa. The final one-third just didn’t work out. They were good men. But so was my husband…. or ex-husband.

So six years down the line, I did not expect him back, and I certainly did not expect that he still had the keys to the house.

“I don’t know what to do to make things right.”

I laughed when he said that. Hearty laughter. I was devoid of any emotions. Was this a dream? Was I hallucinating? Because this was absurd. It was all too funny. “God if this is a dream please make it stop.”

“It’s not a dream. Ekua I’m here… and I’m sorry. And I’m ready to make it work.”

I rummaged through the drawers, in search of my pepper spray. This was the work of the devil… and I did not have the time for it!


Mi’ya – I’m leaving (Ga, A popular Ghanaian language)


Find the rest of Six Years Late here:

Six Years Late II

Six Years Late III