A Walking Memory

Here is why Aunty Fafa is obsessed with me. She and my late mum, Sika were childhood friends. They attended the same schools here in Ghana and even furthered their education abroad. From what i was tild, the two were inseprable. Aunty Fafa allegedly threateded my dad when he showed interest in my mum. She was always on the look out because she didnt want her friends heart to get broken since my mother was the gentle one in their friendship and Aunty Fafa the fiesty one. My dad was allegedly the heartthrob back in the days and he had so many ladies falling at his feet but as Aunty Fafa would say, he wanted what she had and she wasn’t ready to go down without a fight. Their bargain was that he wasnt going to break her heart and she would name their first born “Fafa” after her but it turns out my mum ended up breaking their hearts. Who would have thought the calm and peaceful one would shatter the hearts of the fierce and fiesty ones. Her death changed the agreement, I guess, because Aunty Fafa thought it would be best to name me after my late mum instead. So she didnt only have her name and memory live on but have a familiar face to the name. I guess Aunty Fafa and my dad were the bigger losers in this contract.

I think the story of their friendship and lovelife is a beautiful one but I also subtly hate that anytime i show up it is the thought of her that comes up. I do not know how to explain this, but it feels weighty having to represent my mum. Or so it feels. I walk into a room and her name which happens to be mine is on everyones lips. I am constantly being compared to her. I love her, I think but please, can i live? I just want to be in a room and be seen for who i am and not who i represent.