how precocious I was as a child. The doll baby was a present frommy mother. My grandmother would give it to me at Christmas and then take it back after the festivities, hide it in her room, and then give it back the following Christmas. She did not want me to ruin it; after all, it was the one thing that reminded me of my mother. When I was nine years old, my mother returned home, spurred by reports of my brother and me being constantly sick. She feared the worst for us. By this time, she had two other daughters with my stepfather. Upon her return, we moved back to live with her and my stepfather in Tema, where she registered us in a preparatory school, and that was where I attended classes two to six. Growing up, we were not so wealthy. As children, we would wake up very early in the morning to go hawking to help make ends meet. We hawked many things: plantains, yams, soap, etc. However, we were a very closeknit family. My stepfather played an active role in our lives. Unfortunately, my biological father never really cared about me and my brother. The first time I saw him was when he came over to Kyebi to try to see us. My grandmother was so angry that she drove him away. I remember her sternly asking me to go inside, so I had to go and hide. Later on, my uncles had a good talk with my grandmother, after which she allowed him to take us with him to Tema during one of our holidays. Sadly, it was an unpleasant holiday because his wife did not look pleased with us being around. She pretended to be alright with us whenever our father was around, but she really wasn’t. We never visited him again. I did see him a couple of times after that, first at one of my boyfriend’s house, and then another time when I boarded his taxi. That day was a bit sad because he did not even recognize me. I had to introduce myself to him. He asked me where I was going, and when I told him I was going to the beach, he begged me not to swim because he did not want me to drown. Only God knows what he meant by that, but for some reason, I couldn’t swim that day. 8 The Birthday Journal
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