FSA journals: Trapped in her own game

Its not what it seems

Three years later

~Serena

Its been raining since noon and its beginning to annoy me. With a hot mug of Golden tree bitter cocoa beverage in hand I walk to my dresser. My eyes are dull and its because of my lack of sleep. Opening to proverbs my favourite book in the Bible. I read a chapter and say a prayer quickly before I leave for my confirmation class.

Passing by the hallway I walk to my Nanny and give her a peck. "Naana I'm walking to my class right now I won't be long"

Naana turns and frowns, "Serena"

then its my turn to frown, I'm not who I used to be I don't want to be called that anymore "Naana please stop calling me that"

Naana pats my back "Baaba, better?"

Smiling I hug more tightly "yes please"

Naana continues "You know since the accident-" I quickly interrupt her words "Naana its in the past let it stay there okay?"

Naana opens her mouth, she straightens her dashiki blouse and I know just by staring in those coffee brown depths that what I did three years ago will forever haunt all those close to me. They will always see me as that spoiled little girl. I need to rise above that image.

"I'm going now" with that I tie my head wrap around my now kinky hair, its been three years since I did the big chop and embraced my true self. I stopped doing make up too not that it distorts your self image I just needed to see myself, all of me. To grow and become a better version of myself to me and for me, just me.

Stepping out I walk down the drive way and the wind blows through my long lose ankle length skirt. Its yellow with pretty floral patterns and a white halter neck blouse. My left wrist is covered with beads and my skin is glowing from the natural lush oils, Shea oil my mom bought from this brand Healing,Ghana. Its all I use these days.

"Mr Kwakye please open the gates for me" I say reaching the gate. Looking at a lanky dark skinned man from my mother's hometown. Bald headed and a bit sweaty all the time he's quite the character. He's also distrustful of almost everything that involves me.

Removing his cap he descends his post and walks a little bit closer to me. "Madam its almost 6pm its late should I call a taxi for you? Wait do you have permission to go" he looks at me skeptical.

"Mr kwakye I'm not a child anymore. I can go where I want to, when I want to without permission" he rakes his eyes over me and I catch him lingering at my derrière "Mr Kwakye!" I yell with my hands, fists at my side.

"Madam sorry" he puts his cap back on and dabs at his sweaty brow. Quite ironic seeing as he's so lanky "open the gates"

"Yes madam" he rushes to open it.

 Walking out I put my earpieces on and head for the church I just started attending. Its a Methodist Church and I'm yet to affirm my faith finally. Reverend Felix has been a great support for me since the incident or accident whatever you will. I spent most of my days talking with him about life and my world that's how he reintroduced Christ to me and I've never turned back since. Don't get it wrong unlike most he didn't start evangelizing outright the first day, he just made a few hypothetical scenarios and they caught my attention. 

This Christianity issue is harder than it looks. I'm not completely sure I understand, hold that thought lets get some kelewele.  "phew phew" the best kelewele is the one that you blow on and chew while its in your mouth. After the incident I was diagnosed of a mental health condition that I wont disclose yet because that's no fun. Believe it or not I'm not "krife" now I just wanted a more mature style and then I chanced upon Aku Akuffo Bekoe and I said this is it! Then this up and coming blogger Opokua, she just makes natural hair so exciting and that was that. Currently I have a twist out. My phone chimes and what I read causes my heart to leap into my throat, this hyperbole is necessary .

"Yes yes abossey okai Philadelphia" a trotro mate in green overalls and a yellow inversely worn cap yells from a tattered and battered 'remainder' of what I'm sure should be a bright red mini van. I'm not sure what it means but I know I'm supposed to be on it. Reverend Felix will have to wait, someone else I haven't seen in three years just arrived at Terminal 3, Kotoka International Airport.