Stories of our life

Death; The Inevitable Hug

I grew up in a very remote part of Kumasi known as Kodie in the Ashanti Region of Ghana. It's where I was born and where I still stay. Interesting, is it? When I was a kid, barely eight, I stayed with my mother's family. By that, it meant I had to spend a lot of time with my grandmother and my aunt Diana. We had a fairly large farm and for that matter, a couple of responsibilities. My grandmother stayed home as the rest of us trooped to the 'one-acre farm', I think, to tend it almost every day. Sometimes, I stayed on with the old lady and listened to beautiful stories and respiring histories. Other times, I joined my cousins and together with my aunt Diana, we marched to the farm.
For the better part of the time, I did nothing. I was just so young and my aunt didn't want any trouble with this 'cute but stubborn' kid. The memories of me taunting my older cousins for their 'hard work' is still a fresh memory like it was yesterday. My job basically was to get them all water when they were thirsty or get them a hoe as and when they required it. They never allowed me near the cutlass and I'm a little grateful for that today cos I sure would have cut my leg off with it at that time. When they all got tired, we sat under the biggest mango tree in the farm whose branches, I thought, reached up to heaven. The shade was appreciable and the cool temperature there contrasted deafeningly with the sun's blaze. We prepared yam but had rice on some rare occasions. I still haven't figured out where the utensils we used got there but that was the least of my troubles back then. I enjoyed the yam or rice with my aunt always because my cousins ate a tad faster than my small mind could fathom. Aunt Diana also told us stories after the meal, but not always. We never kept long after they got back to work and I can't say for certain whether they just worked quickly to finish the day's job or they just threw in the towel and called it a day. Walking in line with my oldest cousin in front and my aunt at the latter, some of us carried foodstuffs while the rest of us carried bundles of sticks as we made our way home. I never carried foodstuffs. God, they were so heavy!
So one day, we went to the farm as usual. I was in an exceptional happy mood because my grandmother had promised to tell me a story if I decided to join the 'farm-train' and returned. Skipping on, I picked up my farm clothes and shuffled them on my tiny body quickly. "I'll be back soon, Grandma", I chirped happily. She nodded with a glistening look in her rather dim eyes. Farm work was slower than usual, as if none of them wanted me to get home to my story. Half an hour after they had started working, my aunt Diana received a phone call. I rushed to her side with the phone before it could stop ringing. She stepped farther and farther away as the call went on until she was quite a distance away from us. She was away for long and joined us just as we were about to eat. Quietly, she sat down and fed me but not herself. "Will you not eat the yam, auntie?" I squeaked, looking at her. "Not now, Nana. I'm not hungry", she replied slowly. All was quiet after that. I just prayed the day would go by faster so I could get grandma to tell me the story I'd been dying to hear all week long. I even contemplated getting aunt Diana to tell me but decided against it. Soon enough, we packed our stuff and started the journey home with me in front of my aunt carrying a bundle of sticks my own size.
There were quite a number of people in our home that evening including almost all our nearest neighbours and my uncles. I rushed to find my grandma, not stopping to greet any of my uncles. I never found her. Dejectedly, I came to sit on the stairs, between my mother and my aunt. I asked them both about where I could find grandma but they all looked at me teary eyed. I looked around the house. My uncles were speaking to their sons. My female cousins were playing with each other's hair. The neighbours were trying to make small talk with themselves. I looked at my aunt and mother again. "Someone came to hug her Nana. He hugged her away but she will come back soon, okay?" my aunt said forcing a smile on her pretty face. "Soon?", I asked excitedly. "Yes", came the reply. And that was enough to get me up and bouncing. I found my friends within that minute and we skipped off to find some tins of milk to make cars out of.
Today, as I think of all the death on the rise, I remember that my grandmother hasn't returned with my story. Then the questions start reeling in. 'What will be our last words to our loved ones?' 'Will we see them before we are hugged by that Death guy?' 'Can we evade him or he is inevitable?'