At one point, in the evening of the day of the funeral, when most of the guests had left and only mostly family remained, lounging in the sitting room with their 4th or 5th bottle of Club beer of the evening, my mother asked me to bring some more fried chicken for her and my aunt, and when I went into the kitchen to get it myself, my brother followed me.
I was alone in the kitchen, and when I heard the footsteps behind me, I turned around with the saucer in my hand. It was the first time we had been alone since he arrived, and there was so much I wanted to tell him, just in case I never got this chance again. But I wasn’t sure where to start, or if it was appropriate at this moment.
“I’m glad you came,” I finally said.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking unsure. Shaking his head, he let out a frustrated sound. “I’m sorry,” he managed.
I looked at him in confusion. I didn’t know what he was apologising for.
“Not because he died,” he clarified. “I am glad he’s dead,” he admitted defiantly.
I was glad he was dead too, but I didn’t say it out loud.
“What are you sorry for, then?” I asked.
He looked at me then with eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry for abandoning you. I just— you were so young and sweet. You deserved better. But I couldn’t do anything. I have no power, so I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I didn’t even say goodbye. I just–I just couldn’t.”
I looked at my older brother, the only person I still felt a lot of warmth for. As we stood there, with him baring his regret to me with eyes shining with unshed tears, I felt my own eyes fill when I remembered moments when he tried. Like when he tried to show me his books, or when he told me silly stories that made me laugh. I remembered when he would sneak candy that my mother forbade to me and bring me his food when I was punished for “acting like a child”. And Sugar. I would never forget the teddy bear he always returned to me.
He had been too young too – had held no power to be able to stop them from making me an adult too early, but he had tried his best.
“You tried your best, Kojo. And I remember. I told Nafisa and Rama about you.”
He smiled, relieved that I understood and that I didn’t hold it against him.
“They seem like good people who care for you,” he noted. “I have been watching since we came. They protect you.”
Talking about them made me smile. “Yes, they’re very good to me. I wish there was more time to tell you everything, but they protected me – even from him.”
Our conversation was cut short when my aunt came in, demanding to know why it was taking me so long to fetch a plate of chicken. We didn’t get another chance to speak alone.
When it was time to say goodbye, my mother and aunt looked on awkwardly as I hugged Kojo. It was not something we did at home, but Kojo hugged me back just as fiercely.
“I am glad you have a better family now. I think you’re happy here, so now, I can be at peace,” he whispered.
“I will miss you,” I said when I pulled away.
“I will miss you too, but Nafisa told me that they would arrange for me to visit often.”
“Really? I would love that so much!”
A piece of the conversation I had heard between my two mentors flitted through my mind. “You’re always several steps ahead,” Rama had told Nafisa. And I had to admit that she was right. The idea of seeing my brother again made me happy.
After my family left, Rama pulled me aside and gave me a white polythene bag that had seen better days. “Your brother asked me to give this to you.”
Curious, I took the bag and untied the knot, crying out when I saw what was inside.
“Sugar!”
The teddy bear had been washed, and the sight of it made me burst out in tears even as I clutched it to my chest. I had thought I would never see Sugar again, and holding her now made me realise how much I had really loved the stuffed animal.
Rama didn’t understand why I was crying, but she pulled me into her arms and held me while I wept. I did not allow myself the luxury of tears often, as my mother and aunt had frowned upon tears. “Stop crying, Nhyira. You’re not a child. No man would want a whiny wife,” they would say as soon as they saw my lips quiver. I was already a wife – a widow now – but I knew Rama wouldn’t care if I cried. That made me sob even harder.
Nafisa came into the living room at some point to see me weeping in Rama’s arms.
“What happened?” she demanded in a voice filled with concern. “Did anyone say anything to upset her?”
“No, I think she’s just releasing pent-up emotions. Her brother brought her a teddy bear.” Rama answered, getting it right even though she didn’t know the details. Or perhaps Kobby had told her.
“Alright. Take care of her. I’ll get Sophie and Ohene ready for bed,” Nafisa said, brushing her hand over my head briefly before leaving us.
Rama rocked me gently until I tired from my weeping bout, then carried me upstairs to my room. I didn’t even feel embarrassment at being treated like a child.
I could hear Nafisa’s voice in my head reminding me, as she had a few times before, “Regardless of the circumstances you find yourself in, and despite what you were brought up to believe, you’re still a child, Nhyira, and it is perfectly okay to behave like one sometimes.”
That evening, I allowed myself to be a child as Rama helped me with my bath and dressed me for bed. I even said yes when she offered to stay with me until I fell asleep, clutching Sugar to my chest the whole time.
The months following Mr Anderson’s death were a blur. His relatives had tried to create problems and take over the house and the mines, but Nafisa had security men protecting the properties, and Anderson had left behind a will in which every asset was shared among his children and wives, even me. He even left some money for his extended family as well, but it was not enough for them. They tried to contest the will, but it was ironclad. Two of Mr Anderson’s friends, whom I had seen twice before at the house, came to live with us during that time to help with all the arrangements. They had also been his lawyers, and I later found out that they were long-time friends of Nafisa’s instead.
True to their word, after things calmed down, my brother was invited to spend his long vacation with us. I was thrilled, and during that time, he bonded with Ohene as well and became friends with Sophie too. Over the next year, he became a frequent guest in our house. Mr Anderson’s will had bequeathed some money to my family as well, and part of it covered Kojo’s educational expenses.
A year later, two months after the anniversary of Mr Anderson’s death was celebrated, Rama and Nafisa told me that they wanted us to move to a different city. They wanted us to move to Accra, where nobody knew us, so that we could start over. I could go to a proper school to continue my education, and I would not be known as the child bride. We would all be free to be ourselves in a way that being in our small town, where everybody knew everybody’s business, restricted us. They offered to let Kojo come with us if he wanted. I was thrilled, and so was he. Nafisa left for Accra for a month to make arrangements; she looked for schools for all four of us and a house that was close to the schools. When she returned, she was excited. She had found the perfect place, and it even had two shops attached to the front of the house where we could sell our jewellery and a backyard that could be turned into a garden.
Two months later, we moved to Accra. In a move that shocked everyone, Rama and Nafisa gave our previous house to Mr Anderson’s family.
The next years were great. I got to experience life as a young girl in a good family, and I got to go to school. I was older than most of my classmates, but I was petite, so most people didn’t realise this. Rama eventually opened a salon in one of the shops, and Nafisa and I opened our jewellery store in the other. At one point, I was the only one still at home and schooling nearby while my siblings Kojo, Sophie, and Ohene were at the university in other regions.
I was twenty years old when I came home earlier than expected from a 3-day visit to Sophie in Kumasi to discover the shock of my life. I had wanted to surprise them, so I didn’t inform anyone that I was coming. I let myself into the house and went looking for Rama and Nafisa. Rama’s room was empty, so I went to Nafisa’s.
In my excitement, I didn’t wait for an answer after knocking and just pushed the door open. Rama and Nafisa were in bed together, kissing. Nafisa was on top of Rama, and despite the sheets covering their lower half, it was obvious that they were both naked. To say that I was shocked was an understatement. My loud gasp drew their attention to the doorway, and before they could react, I turned around and fled.
I had heard about women liking other women, even though it was uncommon and frowned upon, but I never thought Rama and Nafisa had such a relationship. The idea had never crossed my mind, and I wasn’t sure how to react. How long have they been together? Did it even matter? As I always did when I was mentally stressed or confused, I went to the one place that always calmed me.
