“Da yie” (good night) I heard my mother shout from the farm house
Staring at the sheets of tin on the ceiling, I laid on the narrow mat which I called a bed. As I tried to put myself to sleep I began to realise I was feeling unease, maybe it was because I didn’t get a chance to give mother a midnight kiss, I did it every night and it would only be more than right to do it now. After dragging myself out of a comfortable position, I ran to the farm house where my mother was working; as I ran I began to notice the pebble shaped blisters on my feet, which are inevitable if you’re working on the farm barefooted but mother has promised to buy me shoes but that promise is still pending, however I’m guessing her promise will be proven true by the end of the month, which Is the time I tend to receive many nice things.
I continued running, as fast as I could, trying not to gain grandmothers attention or else I would be sent straight back to bed. As I finally reached to the doors of the farm house, blood began to vigorously trickle across my now swollen feet, so I sat on the steps and decided to clean the revolting mess with my handkerchief which I had placed in my shirt pocket.
Just when I decided to open the farm house door I heard the voice of a male, it was the voice of an Englishman; so I put my tiny ears to the fragile wooded door and began to listen.
“I want to see my daughter” the man said, with such a strong English accent
“Mente aseε” (I don’t understand) my mother replied, in such a humble tone
“Serwa! Don’t play games with me; you are able to understand English when I am talking to you about money, so I guarantee you are able to when I am talking to you about my daughter!”
“Why do you want to see her now? After all of these years, why now?”
“She is my daughter; I have the right to see her”
“Well she doesn’t want to see you”
“Does she even know who I am?”
Silence surrounded the room, at this point I began to realise how much I wish I could understand English.
“I repeat! does she even know me?” the weird guy said, he voice made my knees shake like maracas
“NO!” mummy shouted with frustration frustrated
“After all these years, she still doesn’t know who her father is? Well tomorrow morning you both are coming with me to live in London”
“What? Just like that, what about if I don’t want to move?”
“It’s the best for both of you, think about it she will be getting a great education, what do you say?”
“Hmm I’ll see, but what about my mum?”
“We can see her on holidays, and I will send money for her every end of the month like I do for you”
“Okay, I am willing to go to London!”
“Now may I see Thema?” I began to feel confused after this man said my name
“Yes” my mother replied whilst opening the door, I tried my hardest to get up but I was in too much pain from the wounds on my feet; so I just sat there and he stared at.
“how are you” he said, I had no idea what he was saying it was like his mouth made movements but he was speaking in tongues, so I stood quiet
“She doesn’t speak English” my mother said to him
“Well translate” he demanded
“Wo ho te sen” (how are you) my mother translated
“Na won so ε?” (Fine and you?) I replied
“Εyε, do you know who I am?”
“yɛ mo nyim hena me yɛ” (do you know who I am) my mother translated
This is when I shook my head
“I am your father”
“me yɛ mo agyakɛsɛ” (I am your father) my mum translated once again
As I looked at him shocked, thoughts began to circulate my head, this news was very hard to fathom; but it explains many things such as why I have a lighter complexion compared to the others in the village.
“ba mu na me were kyerɛ kyerɛ mu biribiara” (come inside and I will explain everything) she said locking hands with my so called ‘father’.
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Teen FictionPoverty. Heard of it? you must have, whenever our televisions are switched on we are continuously reminded of less fortunate circumstances which take place within the third world, in documentaries and advertisement, even films; a starving child on t...
