EPISTLE AT 40 (Something I wrote on 4th December 2014) It is my fortieth birthday today. They say life begins at forty, but we all know that nothing can be farther from the truth. Life doesn’t begin at forty. If anything at all, life is in the bend at forty. By forty you are closer to the twilight of most things you are involved with. After all, they say (and I will take this over the “life beings at forty” theory) you are ushered into “middle age” at the turn of forty years. Forty brings you to the realization that you have spent a lot more years on earth than you actually are going to spend going forward, that is even if Uncle Death doesn’t come quickly to pluck you to where most living beings dread to go. Because this is my fortieth year on earth I have decided to share a part of my life with my “friends” here. Consequently, over the next few paragraphs you will get to know a part of me that you probably did not know and would properly not have known but for the fortuitous occasion of my Ruby anniversary. BIRTH: I was born at Madina. The name of the maternity home is Lidice (my mother used to say Ladies until I grew up to find out) Maternity Home. According to my mother, the woman who delivered me was a fine, affable lady and a distinguished midwife. I don’t try to argue with my mother on things I have no knowledge about so I take it that I was delivered by a very wonderful woman. Sad to say however that Lidice Maternity Home, which (for those who know the geography of Madina) was located directly opposite the Faith Evangelical Church, which is also located close to the main Madina mosque (actually it is that small church ensconced somewhere between the Mosque and the Green Lake Pub, which is also close to Yellow Signboard (as the junction was known for a long time before Mama Lit took the title) or Mama Lit Restaurant. That is on the way from Taxi Rank to Social Welfare. If you don’t get this direction, don’t worry yourself, you never lived in Madina. I have seen lately that they are putting up a structure within the premises where the maternity home used to be. Believe me, anytime I pass by the place I turn my head to look at the place where I was born. GROWING UP: I grew up in Madina. Our house (family house it is because it belongs to my paternal grandmother – which means my father’s mother in English) was located down the road from the Mama Lit junction. About 800 to a 1000 metres from the junction. Which means that I lived only about 1,500 to 2,000 metres from the maternity home I was given birth to. I had three siblings on my mother’s side and four on my father’s side of whom one was from both my mother and father (I am trying to confuse you here). Actually, the neighbourhood in which I grew up was a very diverse one in terms of culture, religion and ethnicity. The languages we spoke in my house were basically Ewe and Dangme. Both my parents are Dangme but my father and his siblings had grown up in Ewe communities and both my father and his elder brother married Ewes. My father married an Anlo and his brother married a Vedome. Different tenants lived in our house at different times with varied backgrounds and from different ethnic groups. There was a Togolese Ewe and her husband from Tongu. However, the woman and her siblings had grown up in a Ga community at Ashie so they spoke flawless Ga plus Togolese Ewe. There was an Anlo man and his wife and children. There were also an Anlo and his wife Anlo and his two subsequent wives Anlos too. There was an Ada woman who lived in the house before I was born and still lives there. There would later be an Akwamu man who would later marry an Akyem woman. There was a Shai man with his Ga wife and children. We were all therefore exposed to the language and its variants. There was a Grushie man from Navrongo and his wife and children. There were many that came and went that my memory can’t help me remember all, but if you still don’t get the picture that I grew up in a house that embodied different languages and ethnic background then I don’t know how else to help you. Apart from the house, there were many people from different tribes and ethnic groups in the immediate neighbourhood and beyond. To the right of our house, when you face the rising sun, is a house that belongs to a man from Volta Region (Anlo). He lived with his family and there were tenants as well who spoke the language. At the back of one of the blocks that form the house was a house that was inhabited by a Kanjaga man from Sandema with his wife and children (that’s how come I know that every Kanjaga name starts with “A” maybe except that of Listowell Yesu Bukarson ). Across the road to the left was the home of a Larteh military man and his very cantankerous wife who spoke a few languages Ga, Ewe, Akan very well that people always argued where exactly she was from but no one could ask for fear of tongue lashing. Three houses from ours (two from the Sandema man’s house) was the house of the Dagomba chief. He had a few wives and many children. Down the road, about four houses on the opposite side was a prominent Kontonkoli man and his two wives and children. Up and down the road there were people of different tribes and ethnic groups. Ewes from Agbozume, Guans from Senya Breku, Gas from Teshie, Gas from Osu, Gas from La, Dangmes from Ningo, Dangmes from Odumase, Hausas, Basares, Wangaras (Maame Wangara used to be the biggest wholesaler of Sugarcane in the neighbourhood and all of Madina), Akamus, Kyerepons and what have you. The neighbourhood was over represented by Christians and Moslems, but there were also people of other religions and even the non-religious. We lived on this neighbourhood with all its manifestation of peacefulness and uncountable strife. There were sibling fights on the street, spousal fights that came from the bedroom to the streets, tenants insulting each other from their houses to the streets and all manner of things you can think of. Among the peers we played football together, we did “pilolo” together, played “dzulor k3 police” together, played “dikors” together, played “alasa wu” together, played “stay” together, played “chaskele” together, went to hunt “beela” together (my father said it was indignity for a Dangme to eat “beela” so I only joined for the hunt and not the feast), fished for “golden fish” in the gutters together (sometimes we caught faeces instead of fish), looked for “alumi” together, played Scrabble together and so much more. It was a fun childhood in that neighbourhood. It was a neighbourhood that had very poor and very rich and yet we all lived together, fought our fights and celebrated victories together. SCHOOLING: I started schooling at a nursery school down the road from my house (around Jungle Bakery) that (just like the maternity home) doesn’t exist anymore. I proceeded to class one at the Madina D/C 2 Primary School at the age of five. When I went to class two the teacher, Miss Amanor could not understand why I wrote with my left hand. She was beating the living daylight out of me. So I had to ran back to class one and thankfully when I was returning to class two Miss Amanor had been transferred. Hallelujah. I think I was a slow starter in academic terms and the reason I was among the last three in class during the class one exams (back then class one exams took place only in third term). In class two I was among the last then or so. However, from class three until I completed middle school I was always among the first three. Oh sorry…this was where I got to and never continued. I will find time to complete this autobiography and share with you. Maybe when I turn 50 by Gods grace.
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 07:34:37 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015