Our little rathole.

I still remember the aura of our little old room; a rainy smell, mixed with the smell of burnt paper and some sunshine, which was always generous on our aluminium roofing sheets.

Mom and dad had freshly seperated and my sisters and I were still adjusting to not having our father at home. So mother rarely stayed indoors, she would often leave before cock's crow to struggle for her profits on the goods she distributed to various shops. She usually returned when we were asleep. I missed her always.

My mum, my sisters and I struggled to create space for sleep in the little room we occupied somewhere in the outskirts of the town. The room was too small to contain all the 'nkukusaka' of five females; yet that is what my mother could afford. She was still traumatized by the seperation and her feminine ego of independence will not recieve any kind of financial support from my father or anyone else. There was nothing to complain about; we had our daily three square meals, water to bathe and a roof over our heads. It was just enough.

We used the porch as kitchen and partitioned one room into two; one as a sleeping area and cupboards to store our clothing, and, the other as a sitting space with chairs and TV to welcome and have discussions with guests. Due to this improvisation, the room was poorly ventilated and always had a 'stuffy' aura. We could not afford a wooden ceiling to shield the heat that was absorbed by the aluminium sheets. The aluminium will always diffuse the heat it asbsorbed during the day unto us. Since we could not afford air conditioning, our room was always warm, dark.

I always thought we lived in a little crowded dark hole, hence; 'our little rat hole.'

🐀🐀🐀

I will reserve the tears, embarrassments, and other psychological struggles for another writing; but I'm happy and grateful to God that my sisters and I turned out beautifully. My mother now owns a two bedroom apartment at Achimota, and a flourishing business of her own. My parents are also sorting out their differences and I hope they get back together soon.

🐀🐀🐀

No one ever believes me when I mention the struggles I've once faced; probably because I choose to keep my smiles radiant and real.

🐀🐀🐀

I still choose to smile and remain kind, regardless of the situation. 🙏

🐀🐀🐀

Comments

The dirty dishes

Many children in the average Ghanaian houshold cannot escape house chores; some of which includes sweeping the compound, fetching water from the community vantage tap, sending the refuse to its respective dump, doing dishes, cleaning the hen coop, going into the bush with a cutlass and a jute sack to look for and cut grass for the goats' feeding, doing the laundry, among others; Or at least those were most of my chores as a child. However, the chore I dreaded doing the most was to wash the dirty dishes. Being the perfectionist that I was as a child, cleaning the dishes would mean that I would have to spend a lot of time scraping and rinsing. Anytime I heard my mother call out my name to go and do the dishes, my fragile heart would skip a beat. I could sometimes shed a bucket of tears before beginning the process of doing the dishes. We didn't have a sink, so I usually used basins. Other times I would spend an awful amount of time wallowing and dreading of the thoughts of doing...

Dear old pipe

..... And there I was on my porch, rocking myself up and forth to the rhythm of an unknown melody. Unknown to myself and to the world. 🗑️ My gaze was fixed on the bridge that leads to my hut; while I smoked my pipe with the hopes that the fire I inhale will penetrate my lungs to my heart. Oh yes burn! 🗑️🗑️ Dear pipe whom I smoke, burn it all. Because every fibre of my heart has been murdered. Murdered by my own imaginations and the deeds of men; disrespect and betrayal. Oh yes, burn it all! 🗑️🗑️🗑️ When it is well cremated, do not worry about the chars. They will escape through my pores and valves. Dear old pipe whom I smoke, burn it all. 🗑️🗑️🗑️🗑️

My dairies as a big breasted representative in the Pink October Month.

October is here again. Drawing the necessary attention to create awareness for breast cancer. However, others perceive it as a time to feast their eyes and enjoy pleasurable views of bare-chested and braless women with stimulated and protruding nipples. I've always had big breasts. Right from my teenage days, when they started developing, my parents and everyone close to me knew that my breasts would stand out and be very prominent. Having big breasts has been a huge struggle; even though it is admired by many, it also welcomed stigma and physical and psychological challenges. The size and shape of an individual's breast rely solely on genetics and weight. The breast tissues can loosen due to factors like old age, lack of exercise, weight fluctuations and hormonal changes. Some people have collated the size and shapes of breasts below; Let's have a look. "Round — The breasts are equally full at the top and bottom. East-west — The right and left breasts go from the cent...

Awuramacreates

Search This Blog