Welcome to America

“Welcome to America!” Aunty V exclaimed as she moved towards my sister and I arms outstretched with a long winter coat tucked under her left arm. “Finally, you are here!” Mother added We hadn’t seen her in almost a year, and hadn’t lived with her in about fourteen. “What about me?” I looked down to…

On the Business of Choosing Dears II

Read Part 1 here Sister Avery must have done her research or at least talked to my dorm mates. I glanced at Wynie to see if she’d betray Sister Avery’s snooping. She was too busy licking her fingers, slowly melting the piece of chocolate she had popped into her mouth, waiting for the fruit-filled center…

On the Business of Choosing Dears

It started when she claimed me as her Dear from among the entire first year class. I was excited. Her reputation preceded her. I knew who she was because all the lower formers had been talking about Sister Avery. She was tall, standing at 6’2” a head and half taller than most of her classmates, and weighed in…

A Woman’s Lot In Life?

Would his wife be willing to meet me? Find a baby-sitter for the kids and join us for dinner? The two bigger issues that remained undiscussed were the fact that 1) I could go out and stay out late because I was single and had no children and 2) our Ghanaian society makes it pretty darn clear on who stays home. It’s lenient such that married men can stay out late if they like and rarely have to answer to anyone. And no one thinks ill of them for socializing with other women while their wives stay home. My “going-dutch on everything” feminist self went out the door as I graciously accepted the spread before me and ate my way through a 150 cedi meal with my ex and his best friend, a fellow classmate, also married I should add. Throughout the meal, I wondered whether he splurge like this on his wife? Whether he would he still ask to hang out with me if I was married? Was it easy because I had no one to answer to? Would this change if I did?

Bridges

To say bridges thrilled her was an understatement. Upon approaching one, she had all the makings of an impending orgasm. The kind that had the tendency to leave the mouth in an “O”.

Mother, You Forgot Something

(a lil somn’ somn’ I’m trying out) “You left something behind.” I managed to say. I didn’t know where I got the energy. “I’ll be back for you, sweetie. I promise.” She grabbed her make-up pouch from me. “That’s what Daddy said too.” “I know, but I am not your father.” She patted my head…

My Heart is Smiling (P.S. I Love You)

“My heart’s never smiled so hard, baby; loving you is fun!” (Easton Corbin) This phrase from a country song (surprise! surprise!), reminds me of the numerous conversations David and I used to have. Often we would text: “my heart is smiling/laughing.” Or the question: “do you still have butterflies?” Answer: “of course! And I hope…