PIECES

LONGEVITY

LONGEVITY
Agya Ampiah’s chronicles:
Harmattan of 1938
Water upon my lips, liquor against my tongue.
Tears of a kid, a journey began.

A decade later I sprained my knee,
Chasing Ama after school.
Papa’s words of castigation forever resounding
Mama’s words of consolation encouraging,
“when a child gets hurt playing, it doesn’t mean he should avert from the ways of childhood”

A few years later and I began to see Ama differently.
I cannot explain the feeling but I know something wasn’t right.
Tingles in my sack shorts whenever she touched my chest which was now one and a half feet wide.
Tingles which got worse when she pulled the hairs on my chin and said “Ampiah you’re growing oo”

A few of us from the village defied the odds and made it into tertiary institutions.
I had responsibilities now. Not the kind you could ignore today and get back to tomorrow.
What was more disturbing, were the cravings I now had.
My tingles were getting worse. My throat was drying up easily. My body always stressed.
I found a companion in Adwoba, and I found some sort of peace and happiness.

New Year’s eve of 1968, and I was holding a ring mama bought for one pound fifteen years ago.
It was gorgeous and she knew I’d need it for this day.
I pulled Adwoba out of the crowd in the town square and made my intentions known,
“me, you, future.” Maybe not the best, but I was scared.
But Adwoba didn’t mind,
I saw her at her happiest in that moment.

Fast forward one year:
The town hospital was relatively empty at dawn, and Adwoba’s screams filled the halls.
2:47 am and I was rushing Adwoba into the maternity ward.
3:15 am and she popped out. The most beautiful child I had ever seen.
I couldn’t hold the tears back.

She matured quickly, so it seemed.
I began to get protective when the neighbour’s son, Kweku, used homework as an excuse to spend time with her.
I was at the peak of my career and so was Adwoba.
We had no worries.
Our greatest fear was letting our three children (Abena, Kwadwo and Akosua) down.

Abena grew so fast.
She was only 24 years old and she was being stolen from her father by another man.
I could count at most, only ten days since her birth.
So where was I all these years.

Along came grandchildren and great grandchildren.
My legs began to fail me, my eyesight too.
I always hoped to be taken away before Adwoba,
I did not want to live a day without her.
But death had other ideas, and I had to bury the love of my life.

Now I spend my days in this rocking chair telling stories and watching the children play.
I try to give them the best advice.
Hoping they’ll do great things someday.
But in every situation, I find myself telling them to live in the moment,
And make their happiness a priority over everything else.