The Tragic Loss of my Father I stood in utter shock as news of my father’s death hit me. How? He was only fifty-eight years old. And he was a good father. How could he die just like that? True, he had been ill, but only for a fewweeks, and had never received proper medical attention, except for infrequent visits from his doctor friend. Despair, sadness, and confusion washed over me at the same time. For days on end, sleep seemed impossible. Who was going to look after me now? The worst part of it all was that I was beginning my secondary school education in a few months’ time. My dad had been responsible for my education. For me, education seemedtheonlywayoutofpoverty, and I was a brilliant student, but here I was now, fatherless, in an absolutely hopeless situation. What was I going to do? I was born in Mankessim on 30th March, 1958, to the late Mr. Edgar Eduafo and the late MadamMary Anderson. Actually, my father was from Krofuw, a smaller village about three miles away from Mankessim. Ours was a blended family; my mother already having had three children from her previous marriage, and my father, having four. My father was prepared to marry my mother, however, since he was still married at the time, my grandmother disapproved of the relationship. He went on to marry someone else later on, with whom he had three more kids. This made us eleven children in all, between my mother and father. Initially, I lived with my mother and started school at Mankessim Day Nursery School, and later, the Urban Council Primary “A” school. In those days, it was not strange to see my mates and I in oversized school uniforms, our belts; thin strips torn out of old cover cloths, our feet bare, our skin shining with shea butter. Most often, in spite of how well we set off from home, by the time we got to school, our legs and feet would have accumulated dust, shirts that our mothers had carefully tucked into our shorts, would only be half tucked in, our shaven heads gloriously shining in the morning sun. We loved school; at least, my friends and I did. We enjoyed school despite the fact that many of the children preferred commercial activities over school, because Mankessim was a market town, and despite the fact that our teachers resorted to the use of canes to force us to learn. Many pupils opted for truancy, but for 9 The Birthday Journal
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