Bounce, bounce, dribble, dribble. I bounced the basketball, running towards our opponents’ hoop. A draught of air brushed past my face. “Jemima! Jem!” It was one of my teammates, Gloria ObengDjan, beckoningme to pass the ball to her, as Iwas surrounded by opponents. I did, and she passed it on to another teammate, Mercy, who took the ball, dribbled a bit more, saw an opening, ducked past our opponents, ran towards the hoop and, stretching her body in one big jump, dunked the ball in. Our side of the court erupted in joy. We had been called for basketball practice ahead of an inter-schools competition. Just then, a junior came running. “Sister Jemima,” she called, “you have a visitor.” I quickly stopped what I was doing and hurried outside, praying it would be my mother. The joy I felt when I saw her standing there with my younger brother, Charles, is something I’ll never forget. During prep that evening at Accra Girls, as I filled in the forms for sixth form, I could sense a new season of life unfolding. I debated which school to choose, hoping for somewhere outside Accra—and yes, it had to be a co-ed school. I’d had enough of being in an allgirls’ environment. That’s how Swedru Secondary School became my first choice. Thankfully, with the help of my stepmother, who was an educationist, I got in. Formative FIRES. “It is not what we remember, but how we remember it, that shapes who we become.” C H A P T E R 2 The Birthday Journal 11
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