This was written by my friend(from highschool)Vanessa Johnson
One cedi. The bank account was empty. Except for one cedi. Her husband had died a couple of days before, sitting on the couch in their livingroom. Just closed his eyes and died. It was hard for her to believe it at first. But after going to the bank, reality began to set in. There had been 361,000 cedis in the bank just a few weeks before he died, and now one cedi. As she told me and my friend Tawia her story, her eyes filled with tears. She spoke softly in Twi, and Tawia translated. She paused, gathering her broken parts in her lap. She chose a shard, turning it over and over as she spoke, closely examining the damaged sharp edges. "I traced some of his past expenditures...He had a girlfriend. He built her a house. Bought her a car." She told us that her late husband was building a house for her and their daughter, but that house wasn't finished. "He finished his girlfriend's house, but not mine." She picked up another shard from her lap, clenching it so tight that it cut into her fingers, blood dripping onto the other pieces of her story. "The family wants me to leave this house. It belonged to my late husband's father. I have no claim to it.
I have never gotten along with his brothers..."
When my husband put me off his land, in malaria fever dreams that I had in that room in Mama's compound, I saw a future where I owned my own land in Ghana; built my own house. In those dreams, one cool evening, there would be a knock at the door. I would welcome my ex husband with a smile. He would sit at my table and I would serve him a meal, and he would eat till his belly was full. He would beg my forgiveness. Tell me the taxi we bought together, and that he took when he threw me off his land, was spoiled. He would ask me for help, and I would walk to my bedroom and get my purse. I would take out my wallet, and from a side pocket, unfold a crumbled Ghana bill that had been waiting there for him since the summer of 2014. With a wide smile I would tenderly place that patient one cedi in his hand...
Just last week, a friend told me she saw my husband in the market place. The taxi was crashed in a car accident. She said he asked about me.
I sit, holding my purse in my lap...waiting.
Great one Linda! I got really feel this one!
In the summer of 2014, she took a group of college kids, and others to see their homeland, Ghana. this is her business, and she uses it as a teaching tool. This was the year, she was supposed to come live her husband, full time. They had been married for 11 years, and she only saw him every year for a couple months. She left early, and met the 'kids' at a designated spot, for their tours.
She started feeling headachy, nauseous, and her abdomen hurt. She had malaria. As she was trying to work through this, her husband came to her and said he wanted her to leave, and he didn't care where she went. He just wanted her out of their, excuse me , his home mind you, when she came to stay, she bought enough money to buy him a cab, so he could have their own business.
She found a place to stay at a compound, and tried to still stay in Africa, her money was running out ahd she couldn't find work. She came home. This year, she went back to file divorce papers. She had to go to their street o get the address, she was really scared. LIfe is different in Africa, , especially for women.
This really got me, Linda.
But I do not understand it completely, are we talking about two different women? One whose husband die after expendig all their money and another one who will divorce a husband that does not want to live with her?
Both stories are sad, but I am not sure that they are two or just one a little convoluted...
They are two separate stories. The second one is my friend, Vanessa. She is also a Griot. she also wrote the story above, which was true. And yes, in the middle of the tour with the kids(young adults)he started flirting with one of the 'kids.' After a day or two, while she was sick and feverish, he looked at he, in front of them and told her he wanted her out, and he didn't care what became of her. She luckily found a place at a womens compound, still goes there to stay now, on visits. It took her 3 years to save the money to go back and file a divorce. She rose above it....she's even had some books published and plays made from them.
Oh, she is a warrior woman after my own heart!
Thanks for clarifying the whole thing for me.