Things got serious. He met my sisters; I met his friends. One of them, Von—who later became our best man—told me, “Enzo says this is his last stop.” I laughed and said, “That means he’s brought someone here before!” Von smiled, “He’s serious now. He’s not that guy anymore.” That stayed with me. Then he introduced me to his family – his uncle, Nana Akyea Afari III (the late Dawuhene), his mum, sister, and cousin – Boss Larry. What drew me to him was his courage. I recall an ex-boyfriend somehow got his number and texted him, warning him to stay away from “his girlfriend.” He even threatened him. Lawrence simply replied, “If you’re a man, meet me here.” The guy never showed up. Over the years, my admiration for him has only deepened. I admire his judgement and selflessness. He gives perspective without ever imposing. And with my job taking me away for nearly eight years, he held everything down at home. I deeply respect him for that. Our wedding day at Christ the King Church was somewhat chaotic. Without a planner or much help, it was just the two of us scrambling the night before to get everything done. At one point, we were stopped by military police for speeding. I was about to invoke my dad’s name, but Lawrence gently signalled me to hold back and calmly said, “Let me handle it.” We walked into our big day completely drained—but we made it. And by God’s grace, we’re still making it. If the ages of 13 to 21 were about planting roots, then 21 to 30 were about stretching those roots into every inch of my soul—testing, proving, and refining the woman I was becoming. This was the decade that taught me about persistence, purpose, and the mysterious orchestration of divine timing. After completing my sixth form, I gained admission to the University of Ghana, where I pursued a Bachelor of Arts in English with Psychology. It was a proud moment—but far from an easy one. Life didn’t roll out the red carpet. I had to juggle academics with work to stay afloat, often walking the tightrope between financial need and educational ambition. But in that juggling act, I found a rhythm. I found strength I didn’t know I had. My childhood friend, Michelle Hughton, offered what turned out to be a life-changing opportunity. She told me about an opening for a Teaching Assistant at Ghana International School (GIS), where she was working at the time. I applied, got the position, and began what would become a three-year journey of growth, exposure, and invaluable experience. Working at GIS was my first introduction to the world of work, and oh, what an enriching journey it was! I was exposed to multiculturalism in its purest form. My class teachers were Indian, and through them, I was introduced to the rich traditions of Diwali and Indian culture. It was here that I learned how vibrant and diverse the world could be. Every child I worked with, every classroom interaction, every cultural day was a new window into patience, truthfulness, and responsibility. I wasn’t just working—I was evolving. My time at GIS also gifted me some friends. People like Ricky Osei-Owusu, Michael, and the ever-inspiring Anita Erskine made the journey fulfilling. At the University of Ghana, the bonds I built extended beyond work into friendships that would carry me through university and life. Maud Eshun, Anita Lumor, Linda Ausekere and a special circle of men—Thomas Woanya, Derek Oppong, and Ato Wilberforce—were my constant support system through the university years. They were my tribe, and they still are. 18 The Birthday Journal
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