When the white 207 Benz bus fell into a pothole, she woke up from her dreamless sleep. The fat woman next to her smelled of garlic and she was muttering under her breath as she fingered the yellow stringed beads in her left hand, while her right hand clutched the edges of her frayed seat- her knuckles had turned white. Asibi turned away from the unfriendly smell of garlic and looked out through the window which had a crack dancing across its middle. The darkness outside the bus mirrored her sentiments exactly- dark, shadowy, doubtful. Fear tugged at her heart, but she refused to give in. What else did she have to lose?
When she was barely 12 years, the girls in her family had been lined up at the mercy of culture, and they were circumcised. She was from Sakplegu, a town in the northern part of Ghana. Her hometown was steeped in tradition. Her hometown was proud of upholding tradition. Her hometown boasted of being immune to foreign influences- even if it meant marrying girls off even when their chests were still very flat.As flat as that of the boys in their class. That is why she was running. She was running for dear life.
Her father had received her dowry from an old man. The old man was waiting to marry her in a week’s time, and he had fulfilled the necessary traditional requirements. When Asibi first saw the man they were referring to as ‘uncle’, she thought he was her father’s brother who had gone to Nigeria when her father was only learning how to walk. When she heard him laugh loudly that he didn’t believe in the white man’s toothpaste and toothbrush, she was sorely disgusted. Her disgust turned to horror, and then fear, when she realized ‘uncle’ was there because he had come to pay her dowry. The trembling started first at her ankles, then it moved to her knees. She had to sit to keep from collapsing under the weight of what she had just heard through the smoke colored kitchen door. She dropped the charcoaled pan she was scrubbing noiselessly into the soapy water by her side.
She knew her mother would not support her in this.
“Eiii!!! I’m finished!”
The weight of her young head fell into her lathered palms.
She heard her name far away, and her mother gripped her shoulders, shaking her hard.
“uncle wants to see you before he leaves”
“Why do u call him uncle? 3hhn? Is he your brother or daddy’s brother?”‘
“Instead of being grateful to God that he’s brought your dowry, you want to be stubborn. Do you know how much money we have borrowed from Zenabu that we haven’t been able to pay?You will not be my downfall o. Let me warn you, you this girl. ”
Asibi’s mother dragged her by the right ear to the door, just to emphasize her displeasure at her daughter’s sharp tongue.
“Agyei!! Now you want to make me deaf too. Won’t my deaf ear reduce the bride price?”
Not even the painful howl would release her mother’s smarting grip on her ear. That night, Asibi lost all desire to sleep. Even original Nescafe would not have been this efficient at keeping her awake. She paced by her raveled mat lost in an avalanche of thoughts. When the sun began it’s lazy climb across the sky, it’s rays brought with it an idea- an idea she was initially hesitant to implement. However, as the sun became hotter and it fixed its yellow self firmly in the middle of the sky, she became resolute.
That was three days ago.
Today at dusk, the girl tucked her few belongings into a wrapper she stole from her mother, and pushed everything into a black polythene bag. She wasn’t going to be married off to any old man, particularly one who didn’t understand and refused to accept the dynamics of the white man’s tooth brush and tooth paste….
She will definitely not be sold off into marriage. She will go to Accra. She will be a kayayo……..
…to be continued..
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