song: king promise — selfish
dedicated to -starrsinhereyes- for her constructive criticism)
there's a glossary for all the italicized words at the end of the chapter. (i.e. the ones which weren't italicized to show emphasis)
The white people arrived in my village—Gbevukope—only last week, but everybody felt their presence. Their skin was okay. I didn't understand what the fuss was about. The first day they came around, my cousin came to grab me from my house just to see them, as if we hadn't been seeing them on television all the time. I didn't blame them too much; the blame was solely on their ignorance.
Now, even though ignorance and the lack of exposure to the outside world made my people so curious about the melanin deficient humans, I was different. My love for reading and watching television granted me the all the exposure I needed without actually having to leave home.
I lifted a hand to shield my face from the scorching sun as I weeded around the cocoa trees. Up ahead, I spotted my father speaking with one of the white men. The trees in the cocoa farm weren't very tall or thick enough to obscure or alter my vision, but I found it hard to believe that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.
My father didn't like the white people much, and neither could he fluently speak English, which is what led me to believe that seeing my father conversing with one of them had to be a mirage caused by the scorching sun and my parched throat.
I closed my eyes briefly to wipe the sweat off my forehead with my hand. When my eyes opened once more, I jumped back in fright, finding my father looking back at me. "Elorm!" he called out.
He'd seen me, and he probably knew that I heard him call, so I couldn't pretend like I didn't like I usually did whenever I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. "Yes, fofo," I replied timidly, maintaining my bent over stance.
I didn't want to go over there because I didn't want to talk to the white man. From what I'd seen on CNN and social media, I'd come to the conclusion that white people generally thought us Africans were all inflicted with Ebola, rode lions as a means of transport, didn't have access to water and were starved and almost always half–dead. I'd been dealing with one kind of extreme ignorance my whole life, and I didn't want to face another form of it that hot afternoon.
"Come here," he said in our native language, Ewe.
I frowned, but I couldn't refuse even though I fiercely wanted to. I took my time, dragging my legs, but no matter how long I stalled, it was inevitable that I got there. I stomped my feet extra loudly as I sulked to his side, a sign to make him aware of my reluctance. He realised, judging by the glare he sent my way, but he ignored my protests because he'd never really cared what I wanted. Sighing in defeat, I gave the white man a small wave which he returned.
"Elorm, tell this man that you do not want to go to school," my father said, wasting no time in going straight to the point.
I looked at him, taken aback by the irritation in his voice. Turning back to the white man, I smiled. It turned out that this one was here for something beneficial to us—me—instead of planning a second wave of colonialism.
Some of them had come to encourage the villagers to put their girl children in school, and this seemed to be one of them. My village was stuck in a misogynistic era that the country and most of the world had grown out of, so I was glad for these enlightened individuals who knew better than to mind their own business. The non–governmental organisations whose job this was were too busy being bothered about girls in urban areas facing other issues like teenage pregnancy, ignoring us rural dwellers altogether.
I turned back to my father and replied in Ewe, "No. I do want to go to school."
"Your mother and I have already spoken about this. Why would I waste my time educating you when you'll just marry into someone else's family?"
"I won't be marrying into someone else's family. One day, I marry a man who I'll start a family with. I will remain a member of this family, become a member of his family, and my own new family. If you think about it, it'll just be one big family. Which means that you have nothing to lose by allowing me an education since you won't lose me to any other family."
He hated it when I spoke like this; trying to outsmart him. He most at times got confused, but more importantly, angry that he'd birthed a girl child who could make him feel like a fool. He faced me with scowl, his brain probably throwing everything I said into a refuse bin. "It's because of this kind of foolish talk, that's why I won't even consider it. You had better tell this man that you aren't interested in his offer. I'm trying to, but he refuses to listen."
By 'foolish talk', he meant 'talk that was too sensible for my malnourished, pre–evolution brain to grasp'. I'd never liked the man for his dislike for my intelligence. He'd never liked me either, mostly because he thought I was going to be a boy. Imagine his disappointment when I popped out of my mother's vagina with a vagina of my own.
Of course, I wasn't going to listen to him. I wanted to study. I wanted a chance to be able to provide for myself one day, something which the shackles him and my people had locked onto the girl child's ankles had made nearly impossible.
"Hello, I'm Elorm," I said to the white man in English. I snuck a glance at my father and smirked at the bewildered look on his face. Watching shows for kids that taught the alphabet and how to read, I learnt how to speak English. It was an arduous task that took me a couple of years, but continuously watching television and burying my nose in every book I could find, I managed it. Funnily enough, only my cousin knew this.
"Hello Elorm," he said, mispronouncing my name, "are you from around here?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"You're from England, aren't you?" I asked, ignoring his question, mainly because it was stupid. Though it was very tempting to give him a sarcastic reply that would've made his eyes bulge out of his head.
The poor man looked confused as he stared at me, a crease forming between his brows. I didn't expect my question to stun him that much, but I guess he was coming to the realisation that Africans weren't actually just apes in human form.
"How did you know that?" he asked me.
Then I smiled. I would reply with answers that if any other white person would've given him, it would be considered small talk, but when I did, I would be considered the next Albert Einstein. "The English on television talk like you. I figured that if you talked like an Englishman, then you must be an Englishman. Oh, unless you're from somewhere else and you're faking an English accent."
"Wow," the man replied, looking like I'd just told him the cure for cancer. I merely smiled, glad that I'd been right yet again. The old man seemed more interested in our conversation now as he asked me with a small smile on his face, "are you in school, Elorm?"
"My name is pronounced 'Eh–lom'. 'Eh' as in elephant."
"Okay Elorm, do you go to school?"
"Can we please not talk about this in front of my sperm donor?" I asked.
I refrained from saying 'father', because the dark–skinned man beside me knew what that word meant in English. I wanted to keep him as confused as possible. The white man, however, couldn't comprehend my reasons, so his face scrunched up with distaste at my choice of words.
"Sorry for my language. No," I said, "I don't."
"Would you like to?" he asked.
"Of course!" I said excitedly. The people who'd embarked on this mission were almost always just trying to talk sense into the villagers' head. This was the first person who'd actually seemed to offer a solution. 'Would you like to' sounded like 'I know how you can get an education and I'm going to help you do just that'. I could only hope I wasn't reading too much into his words.
But just then, the idiot who donated his sperm for my conception decided to speak up. "Elorm, since when did you learn how to speak English? And what are you telling him? If you're telling him anything contrary to what I told you to, you'll be in big trouble."
It was tempting to roll my eyes, but then again, I didn't want to get beaten that night. "I'm telling him what you asked me to tell him."
"Good. Ask him if he can take your brothers to the city to learn. I heard that there are more jobs there."
Now I didn't want to sabotage my brothers' chances, but his complete disregard for my future pissed me off.
I didn't mention my brothers, but that was also because they didn't even like that they had the opportunity to go to school. They would most prefer to trade places with me, since farming was more 'manly' than 'sitting on a hard desk and listening to rubbish'.
"Can you help me?" I continued. "My father won't let me be educated no matter how much I try to change his mind. I hate working on this farm. I'm the only girl here and I'm surrounded by men who aren't always respectful."
The old man frowned. "Have you told your father about that?"
"Oh please. He won't believe me, as if it's somehow my fault that the men in the village think I'm pretty."
"I'm so sorry that you have to go through that, but I can't promise to get you off this farm. Your father is clearly not very interested in anything I have to say. Try to stay close to him when working; perhaps that will help. And about your education, I have a nephew who will be willing to tutor you."
Stay close to the fool? Every second I was away from him was a blessing. The tutoring thing seemed to be a bad idea too, since the nephew wasn't, well, a niece. Most of the village–folk, my parents included, believed that I was a prostitute. It was a lie that had been concocted by girls who were jealous of my looks, but it'd still managed to ruin my good reputation.
"I don't know if my parents will agree."
They wouldn't.
"I'll talk to your father," the man said. With one look at my father, he changed his mind. "On second thought, he doesn't understand me anyway. You should talk to him yourself. You're his daughter after all."
"Will do," I lied. I didn't know how I was going to make it work, but I was going to attend my tutoring lessons with the man's nephew without letting my parents know. "Thank you—" I stopped abruptly, realising that I never asked for his name.
"Jack. Jack Woods."
"Thank you, Uncle Jack," I smiled at him. I couldn't call him just Jack. Here, calling an elder by their first name only was considered disrespectful.
"It has been a pleasure," he said with a smile of his own, extending his hand for a handshake.
I took his slightly wrinkled white hand and shook it as my father stared at us bewilderedly. Never in his life had he seen a grown man shake a girl's hand and surely, the sight disgusted him.
Once he released my hand and left, I turned to my father with a sly smile. "I've told him what you asked me to tell him," I said.
"So? Will he take them?"
"No," I said smugly.
"Get back to your plot," he hissed, annoyance prominent on his face.
I grinned and went back to my weeding.
* * *
The sun was just setting when I got home. My father had left earlier, and I decided that it was safer to come home when there was still a little bit of light left. Nearing our home, I sighted my brothers playing with the water in the barrel, splashing it all over.
It was an unwelcome sight, because we didn't have taps. That was water I'd fetched from the village borehole that I was supposed to use to cook and shower, two tasks which seemed nearly impossible at this point.
I had barely opened the front door when my mother yelled, "Elorm, hurry and get started with the akple!"
Knowing it was pointless to protest, I sighed and headed into the kitchen to get the stuff I would need. I took a coalpot and charcoal, since we didn't have a stove, not even a small one like most people had, not because we couldn't afford it, but because my mother was afraid of gas. The paranoid villager actually said that it was poisonous.
Once I had everything set, I went to the front of the house where the big blue barrel stood. The endless patches of muddy water reminded me that my brothers were playing with the water while I was away. I groaned and lifted the wooden cover off the barrel and to my utmost horror, not even a single drop of water was left.
I didn't even have the strength to get angry. I was tired and hungry, and even I was looking forward to the meal I was going to prepare. I grabbed a bucket from the storeroom and headed to the borehole to fetch more water.
The borehole wasn't too far, thankfully, and once I got there, I was even more thankful for making that trip. The hairs on my body stood on end as my eyes came up to meet his dark–brown ones. Standing before me was Prince Michael, the heartthrob of every girl in my village.
Not only was he the most handsome man in the village—which was a lot to say, because the men of my village were generally good–looking with sinful bodies, due to all the manual labour they do—but he was also the richest.
He lived in a palace which had pipe—borne water, stoves, air conditioners, televisions and virtually everything I've ever dreamed of. Not only that, but also, his father owned a private plane that took them to any country in the world.
I took in the sight of him, trying to ignore the tingling of my skin. Finding his eyes fixated on my face with that look of adoration that I would never get used to, I asked him, "My prince, what are you doing here?"
"I told you not to call me 'my prince', Ellie," he chastised with a jaw dropping smile. His teeth were so white and his skin, dark and glowing. He really was perfect, and this made it so hard for me to believe that my insinuation that he had feelings for me was true.
"Sorry Michael," I said. Almost immediately, I noticed one of the maids surrounding him give me the stink–eye. "Forgive me for asking but, why are you here? Shouldn't you be attending to your royal duties?"
"I guess I should, but it's a good thing that I came here. Who knew that I'd run into you?"
A smile crept onto my face. "You didn't answer my question."
He merely smiled in reply. "You look as beautiful as always."
I grinned mischievously, remembering that neither his maids nor bodyguards understood or spoke English—at least, that's what I thought.
"Thank you, but you don't have to flatter me," I said.
"It's not flattery, Ellie. It's the truth. You are a very beautiful woman. Probably one of the most beautiful women that there are."
I looked up at him, eyes wide, feeling shy. "Thank you," I said, feeling the blush creep up my neck and pool in my cheeks. I wanted to hug him, but both him and I knew that we couldn't do that in front of his bodyguards and maids. Instead, we just smiled until it began to hurt.
"By the way, I came here to fetch water, so..." I trailed off suggestively, eyeing the borehole.
"Oh yes, go on," he looked at his maids, "we came here to do that also."
I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. At least, him being a terrible liar meant that he'd be honest with me when we began our relationship. If we began a relationship.
"For my pets," he added quickly.
I knew he had no pets, but I decided to accept his excuse. "Okay. I'll get to it then."
He smiled like he knew that I knew that he was lying. "Sure." Fortunately for him, his maids were holding calabashes, so that they could pretend like they were going to use the water that they were fetching.
I filled the bucket and balanced it on my head. Since I was so worn out, the bucket tipped a little bit and droplets overflowed and wet my cloth and skin. It was cold that night too, so the drops of water touching my skin felt like a touch from ice–cold fingertips. I shivered involuntarily, struggling to balance the bucket atop my short afro.
Michael noticed, and the edges of his lips tilted downwards in a subtle frown. "Let me help you with that," he offered immediately, walking towards me.
To protest, I held out a hand, momentarily forgetting about the bucket on my head. It fell and shockingly, developed a large crack that spilled all the water that remained. All I could do was cry out in shock and look at the bucket with disbelief coursing through me. My heart began to beat faster as my mind played possible scenarios of my death. Dada would kill me.
"Oh my— Ellie, I'm so sorry. Shall I get you another bucket?" Michael asked, still coming closer to me.
"No, just stay away from me," I whispered, and held out a hand to prevent him from getting any closer.
I'd never spoken to him that way before. I was sure it was a taboo to speak to him like that but I was too scared of what awaited me to remember that. It wasn't his fault, but I couldn't help but feel angry with him.
I huffed angrily and walked away. Nearing home, my heart pounded harder when I saw the whole family already eating outside. Dada wasn't eating. She was on her feet and holding a wooden spoon with an ugly frown on her face.
"And where have you been?" she asked, yelling, as soon as she saw me. Fofo couldn't have been more concerned as he sat there eating a huge piece of meat.
"I went to fetch water from the borehole," I replied. I was sure I was too nervous to be believed.
I was right.
"Really? So where is this water?"
"When I went to the borehole, the bucket broke and..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I didn't dare mention Michael before they thought I'd gone off to sleep with him. Though, in retrospect, I realised that I should've let him get me another bucket; then I wouldn't have looked so stupid.
"Liar! What about the water in the barrel in the kitchen?" she screamed, looking angrier.
"I'm not lying Dada, it's the truth!" I exclaimed, chastising myself for forgetting about the kitchen barrel.
"Will you shut up!" she continued yelling, this time, whacking me with the wooden spoon. It hit me on the flesh of my arm, and I bit my lower lip to muffle a cry, but she wasn't done. She continued hitting me until I fell, trying to shield myself with my arms.
"Stupid girl! I know you went out to sleep with one of your numerous boyfriends, you dirty harlot!" she hollered as she continued hitting me.
Unable to hold the tears much longer, I let out a loud cry and begun to sob uncontrollably. The manual labour at the farm already made me ache, and coupled with this was like being burnt alive.
"Stop it," fofo said, pausing from putting a piece of meat in his mouth. I stopped crying, too shocked to continue. I didn't know whether I should've been disturbed by the fact that he was trying to put an end to the wicked scene unfolding before him. It really wasn't like him. But when he rolled his eyes and put the meat into his mouth, I knew I'd thought too highly of the idiot. "If you want to discipline the girl, do it inside. You're disrupting my peace."
She felt stupid, I could tell. How could she not, when all she lived for was to please her equally stupid husband? "Get out of my sight before I kill you. Harlot!" she yelled at me with a vicious kick directed at my hip.
The kick brought me back to my senses, and I scurried away as quickly as my legs would take me. My head ached from when she hit me on the forehead. My body felt like someone had slashed me in countless places with a knife, and my tummy rumbled hungrily.
When I got back to my furniture–void room, I swore to myself that I'd make them pay for everything they'd done to me. I laid a spare cloth on the hard floor and lay on it. That night, I went to bed on an empty stomach.
* * *
this book is being edited on my patreon, with new chapters posted every week. the first few edited chapters will be posted here too, although they won't be many.
patreon.com/adancingrobot
glossary
gbevukope — the name of the village part of the story takes place in.
ewe — the traditional language spoken by people of ghana belonging to the ewe tribe.
fofo — father, in ewe language.
akple — a food eaten by the people of the volta region.
dada — mother, in ewe language.
don't forget to vote! 🌟