I sat in the back seat of the trotro, literally everyone’s favourite spot, next to the window with my Walkman plugged in and an angry expression on my face. Why, you ask? Because Nana was sending me away to exile. She wouldn’t accept that fact, but in my 16-year-old mind, that was exactly what this one-way trip was.
Despite my rigorous attempts to prove to her that Accra is not the place for me, here I am on a journey to God knows where. In all honesty, my fury is because I will no longer see Afua and Serwaa during my morning walks to the stream or under our famous mango tree. Nana had successfully torn apart the town’s famous trio. Did that mean nothing to her? And KOJO, ahh, such a dreamy young man. I bet if I had just 2 more weeks, I could have made him my own.
From my window, I see these Big City BOYS with their bushy hair and earplugs hanging from their ears and connecting with whatever device may be tucked away in those low-hanging trousers. Kojo would never dress like this, tssww. Anyway, it is what it is. “Ohemaa…Ohemaa,” Nana nudged as she tried to get my attention. This was my time to get back at her for bringing me here against my will.
I decided to play deaf; after all, I had earplugs in my ears. Maybe I should fake unconsciousness; that would cause her BP to go through the roof, and then she’ll realise how tough her life would be without me running errands and helping her out. On second thought, what if she dies? I stole a glance at her as these mischievous thoughts ran through my head. Nana looked too worried…
Other Articles
