Growing up my parents, like many Ghanaian parents had this uncouth habit of meting out punishments to me at dawn. The specifics didn’t matter much but the timing were always uncannily brutal, usually between 4:30 to 5:00am, during the last "sweet" lap of the sleep cycle. This went on for as long as I was still staying with them and till my ears became sharp enough to heed caution. So, when I grew up I decided to return the favor by waking them up at dawn for lengthy chats. Mostly, it would be about something I had planned on doing but wasn’t certain it would be a good idea to pursue, or talk about women and relationships or just simply ask for updates on village gossips. I miss those moments.
On this particular day, I had stayed up pretty late into the night, tossing and turning like mad. My heart was pounding and threatening to explode with awe, anxiety and stress over what my head had been engaged with most of the evening when I went to bed. So when I was certain they were definitely enjoying their sleep, I stepped out and knocked twice on their door. Dad heard it and gave a grunt to indicate he wasn’t enthused. On the other side of the door, I was elated, knowing that I had picked the best time to come calling. When I sat down, I told them I had something to say so they should wake up. One by one, they got up, visited the washroom and joined me in the room, looking so grumpy.
As usual, I delayed my actual mission and started to talk about unrelated things, update on the farms, where each would be going to when it was day, and everything else that could increase the anxiety on their faces. Finally, I assumed posture and began, dropping hints after hints in every single word spoken of my utmost gratitude for how they have been supportive of my education to this level. "I have been around much of the country", I said, and seen how some people are not so lucky as I have been. I know where we come from and I am aware of the limitations of living in such areas. Genuinely, they should know that I was grateful and proud to be their son. I spoke about plans for life after school and where I would be doing service. I told them I wouldn’t let them down and that in every decision, even when I don’t call them to ask for their input, I always think of their interest as well. I was tensed with unexpressed gratitude and stored up praise for how much sacrifice they had made for my education. I reminded dad of something he said years ago, that he would make me go to a school of languages and become multilingual. I reminded mom that her dream of becoming a nurse, though didn’t come to pass would be realized through me. Suddenly, I could feel the room become melancholic and suspenseful. Each syllable I uttered bounced off the wall, back into the room louder than echo from a haunted cave.
When I finished talking, I sat there motionless. I realized I had become damn so emotional, almost scared of the burden of living up to expectations. After a while, I resumed talking, this time about relationships. That always made dad happy. I told them I was sorry for the inconvenience caused by bringing someone home and not making it to the tying of knots in marriage. Dad asked if I still hear from her. I told him she had blocked me and I think it’s better not to reach out to her. Mom agreed, said something about "God knowing best". I shook my head, but not sure she saw it. I told them about my fears concerning marriage, the pressures, extended family and nuclear family relationships.
Soon, the first light strolled into the room, falling on my laps through the cracks in the door and giving me a warm touch. I looked at their faces, dad was still gloomy, mom rather melancholic sat there wrapped in her sheets. I made a joke about going to the farms with dad and got up to leave. Mom asked if they could pray for me for which I said yes. I knelt down and we said a prayer together. When it was over, I thanked them and made my way out of the room. I went back to bed, read a little and went to sleep quickly. As for them, the sun was shining and there’s no way they can go back to sleep. Dad would be going to check the traps and mom would take some workers to the cocoa farm later.
Today if I should bang on their door, I will be speaking to mom alone, with dad gone to the other side. When I saw her yesterday, I could see the proud look on her face as I winked at her. She deserves that feeling, of knowing her efforts have not been in vain. I sat real close to her as though that would make it any more obvious that I was her son as we waited for the family of my dad to put themselves together. We talked, gossiped about my uncle and had some laughs. We took a stroll around the town, with the aim of locating one of dad’s brothers and had the benefit of walking proudly side by side. It’s an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. I think read a quote from somewhere that says that the older we get, the better we love our roots. For me, it is not just about my roots, but the people that make up the memories I carry along life’s journey.
