My mother`s word

I would have remained a truck pusher, a khebab seller, a kayaye or become a useless farmer. The kind of peer pressure life I was almost driven to, under the influence of poverty would have somersaulted me into a dungeon of endless worries and grief which I would have regretted much today. But for my mother`s word, today I know what social media is and I am sharing this with you.  A close friend of mine who I used to parasite because of his luxury “…has been sentenced to prison for the second time after his first rape case sentence”, I was told the last time I enquired about him.

My father who never stepped foot in class one yet spoke nine different languages including French and English, and worked in a reputable institution, never saw education as a window of opportunity but rather a lever to steal with the pen. My father never had the zeal of educating his children but my mother did. He never saw the importance of educating his children especially girl child. My father could spend endless time telling me stories of historical wars of our forefathers as if he wanted me to become a warrior. He will spend his last pesewa to buy me the most expensive dress he can afford during festivity. But he will walk over me if I should ask of money to buy a pen or pencil. I remember one day I asked him to buy me black shoe for school and he told me he will buy me disco shoes. I almost gave up schooling because of my father` attitude towards education. I was even more convinced that without education I could still get a better job just like my father.

But my mother looked beyond the horizon; she envisaged a future where without education my life will be miserable. My mother knew that education is the only tool that can alleviate man from poverty and hardships. She called me one night to her chamber and cautioned me with every single word she can for me to take my education serious and never follow my father` footsteps. Her last sentence to me, “dirty work doesn`t befits fair skin persons” [like me] sounded in my ears like one of the Akan drama talks on TV. I never attached seriousness to those words. I even forgot those words before sunrise. Little did I know that those words will haunt me one day.

Long after she had gone, I took to the street to make ends meet. I toiled and engaged myself in all kinds of menial jobs as a means of livelihood. I was inundated in my youthful exuberance and never thought of going back to the classroom so I spent every single income I earn lavishly each day. But one hot and sunny afternoon, my mother` words came to me like flashes of lights and I couldn`t believe the whole trance. I had retired under a tree by the roadside to rest; I was exhausted and breathing like never before, spots of sweats dribbled my body as I removed my shirt to ventilate my pores. I was perspiring profusely with headache and back pains. I took a quick scan of my visible parts and spotted some few dark scars which have inadvertently stolen my beauty and colour away. My skin colour looked like a charcoal seller about to go on retirement. The hot sun and heat had transmogrified my colour into unpalatable appearance.

As I bowed down my head and gazed onto the ground, my mother` words which I have forgotten so many years ago stared at me, it was an unbelievable flashback. I reminisced my mother` admonishment as if she was sitting right before me and her words, “dirty work doesn`t befits fair skin persons” took center stage in my mind. Was this what my mother meant by dirty work or something else?

That day was the turning point in my life to go back to the classroom so I saved every pesewa I earned each day for that purpose. My mother` word has rekindled my dying dream and awakens my spirit. I would have still been on the street but for my mother` word the story is not the same today. Mama, you were so special, your love and care was unique, there had never been your replica. You shall forever be remembered.

Happy mother` day to all mothers, you are wonderful!