AuntieMonica and I first met at Yaa Asantewaa Secondary School in 1960. We were classmates and became close friends — a friendship that has lasted all these years. She was very smart, kind, and always there for you. We used to get into a bit of mischief together — teasing teachers, playing pranks, and running away when caught. There were both Black andWhite teachers at the time, and we kept them on their toes! After school, we both got married — she to a professor, and I to an army officer. Though we lived far apart, we remained close. I lived in the barracks in Kumasi, while she was on Tech Campus. Her husband, Mr. Asante, was very strict, just like mine, and I used to tease her by calling him “Owura Asante” behind his back. Once, the two of us planned to attend a funeral with our friend Cynthia. I drove from the barracks to Tech to pick her up, but her husband stopped her from going. We went without her and spent the whole trip talking about it. Of course, we teased her about it later when we returned from the funeral. Because of my husband’s work, we travelled a lot — Takoradi, Tamale, and finally back to Kumasi. Each time I returned, Monica and I reconnected as if no time had passed. By then, she had all her children, and they were about the same age as mine. We even have a photo of them together that my daughter still keeps. Our friends teased us and called us “the Cinderellas” because whenever we went out, we had to be home by noon to make sure lunch was ready for our husbands. By 11 o’clock, Monica would check her watch and say, “Let’s go before it’s too late.” After finishing our chores, we’d sometimes head back into town again. It became our little tradition, joking that our husbands had trained us well. To this day, we are still homebuddies, preferring to stay home rather than go out. Monica has always been dependable. When my husband passed away, Monica came to perform kuna with me — the traditional mourning period. She stayed through the entire funeral, supporting me until everything was done. She was my strength during that difficult time, even cooking for my family. Monica is caring, dependable, and always ready to help. My children still talk about her kindness. She also faced her own challenges when her husband died young, leaving her to raise the children alone. She handled it so well — calm and steady. I remember a funny moment when one of her children, I think it was Owuraku or Owura Asante himself, fell very ill. In her panic to rush him to the hospital, she forgot to wear shoes. After her hospital visit, she came to my house crying, and I said, “Calm down. And where are your shoes?” Then she realized she hadn’t worn any. Monica and I both never liked driving with shoes —we used to say it gave us better control of the pedals. Monica is also full of humour. Once, she was at my poultry farmwhen my young son screamed after being bitten by a snake. He narrated his ordeal to Auntie Monica, saying he had been bitten by a kan ke bi, and from that day, she started calling himKan ke bi—a nickname she still uses for him today. Happy 80th Birthday, Monica. As you reach this milestone, we celebrate the kindness and reliability you’ve shared with all of us over the years. Your gentle way of caring for people continues to influence our families and community in special ways. May the years ahead bring you peace, joy, and all the love you so easily give. Mina The Birthday Journal 29
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