and kicking our legs forward as we played “ampe.” On the other side of the compound, groups of boys were playing football, others were squatted on the ground tossing the tail ends of snail shells in a game called “alikoto,” and other games. The more shy students stood alone, watching each activity. Primary school for me was at Methodist Primary School in Winneba. Those days were very happy and enjoyable. We were always playing around and not studying very seriously, but somehow we always managed to pass. Back then, there was no electricity in the village. You did not really study at home. What you were taught in school was what you relied on for exams. Middle School Days I do not know what came over me on this particular day. By my nature, I was very introverted, hardly the type to get into trouble. Coupled with this was the fact that I feared the cane. On this particular day, however, I ill-advisedly followed a group of daring girls to town during school hours, oblivious to what the consequences could be if we ever got caught. Imagine my dismay when we returned to find our headmistress, her face in a grimace and her jaw set in anger. She had discovered the absence of some girls. My heart raced. What had I gotten myself into? Was I ever going to gain the trust of my teachers and headmistress again? Shame enveloped me. That feat earned us a two-week suspension, for which I was thoroughly ashamed. The good thing for me was that by the time we were due to return, my Common Entrance results were in and I had gained admission into secondary school. I never went back to complete middle school. I attended Methodist Girls’ Middle School in Winneba. During that period, my mother and grandmother made and sold Fante kenkey, and we helped. We would carry fermented corn to the mill before school and bring it back after school. Then we would go back for afternoon classes, close around 4:00 p.m., do more chores, play, eat, and sleep. Onmost days, I could not wait, as the whole compound filled with the sweet aroma of freshly boiled Fante kenkey. That, mixed with the mouth-watering smell of freshly fried fish and the exotic blend of freshly ground pepper, tomatoes, and onion mix, would make me feel both heady and hungry. My grandmother was very entrepreneurial, a trait which my mother inherited. As a result of that, though we were relatively poor, we never went hungry. Middle school was fun. Of course, academics were beginning to become a bit complex, but I still managed quite well, and all went smoothly until the day I followed a group of girls into town during school hours and earned a two-week suspension. I passed! I stretched both arms out in victory and screamed, screaming and screaming with joy. News had reached us that the Common Entrance results were out, and I had passed! In my joy, I hopped onto my mother’s bed, hopping on it several times, until, “crack,” I heard the sound of broken wood. The bed was broken, but I was still not fazed. That day, if I had had money, I would have thrown a party. I even forgot that I was on a two-week suspension from middle school. Even my mother was very happy, although she didn’t have much. In fact, it was my grandmother who had given me the money for the entrance exam. Grandma was so happy she said, “I will help you go to secondary school. At least you will bring some glory to the family.” In spite of all this, both my mother and my grandmother still couldn’t see how they would raise the funds to send me. A must-not-miss opportunity “This is your daughter’s last chance. Even if you have to borrow, let her go. She is intelligent.” I hid behind the door and eavesdropped as my middle school headmistress tried to convince my mother to let me attend secondary school. Initially, when I saw her walk into our compound, with that fearful, revered gait that most headmistresses often carried, shockwaves ran through my body. I was already serving a two-week suspension. Was I in further trouble? Even my mother appeared daunted. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I realised what she was there for. My mother, her face clouded with worry and sadness, used one end of her cloth to wipe her face several times and tilted her head miserably as she tried to come up with excuse upon excuse as to why she could not let me attend. She was a single mother, she had other children to take care of, her business was not thriving as it should, but my headmistress was insistent. “Do everything possible to take this girl to secondary school. This is the second time she has written and passed. She has a bright future.” Eventually, my mother began to see reason. Repositioning herself on her stool, she resolved firmly to send me to her elder sister in Cape Coast to see if she could help. That single action taken by my headmistress was deeply etched in my mind, and it shaped my whole life. 6 The Birthday Journal
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