THREE UNIQUE AND UNFORGETTABLE WOMEN

THE FIRST WOMAN

Living in Ghana has exposed me to individuals whose encounters would have been extremely difficult to experience in any other country. On the road where I’m domiciled, there are three women that I’m simply constrained to write about. But how did this happen? Why were the personalities of four strangers from different countries and backgrounds thrust together at a specific time? So that they would experience life and its challenges by rubbing against each other. I refuse to believe that our combined location here is simply the result of blind coincidence. But let us assume that providence is responsible for this divine arrangement. What does The Lord Almighty hope to achieve by manipulating human events in our regard? I’m confident that The Lord ultimately intended to improve our characters. One of the women lives at the entrance to my road. The other one lives on the same property as myself, and the third lives beside me. It would be impossible for me to avoid any of them.

The first woman is definitely a lady. Not only is she a trained professional, holding a bachelor’s degree in education, but she also lives in a beautiful, luxurious mansion with tropical, exotic potted plants strategically placed at different locations on her property. There is a high wall around her plot of land with electrically charged security wires mounted on top to deter would-be intruders. Her house was originally under construction, and as time progressed, many improvements were made gradually until her kitchen, hall, and bedrooms were artistically finished. I originally befriended her because she is tall, slender, and beautiful. However, the better I got to know her, the less I liked her. Never before in my life had I encountered such a blatant user, abuser, and manipulator. Whenever she saw me, her immediate reaction was, “Mr. James, I need money to do my hair, or I need money to purchase fish, or I need money to purchase Banku or Fufu.” Sometimes, it was, “Mr. James, won’t you purchase this watch or chain for me?” My appearance seemed to stimulate some enzyme in her biochemical system that facilitated such a reaction.

Eventually, I avoided walking past her house altogether because she would gaze through her window to ambush me and make new demands. As I observed and contemplated her immediate surroundings, particularly her air-conditioned rooms, the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of her hall, and exquisitely arranged and furnished bathrooms, it was difficult for me to make sense of her behavior. She seemed to be suffering from an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I used other lanes or thoroughfares to avoid passing her place of abode. But they were far less convenient than the regular route. Which would quickly take me to the nearest taxi stop whenever I needed to travel to Berekum. Before I commenced distancing myself from her, she would visit my apartment occasionally. I noticed, however, that whenever she stopped by, she searched my freezer and helped herself to any fish or chicken being stored therein. A behavioral pattern that I resented, although I issued no complaint to her.

She is 32 and has a 14-year-old son, whom she would periodically send to my house to collect food items. Although he hasn’t been here for at least 18 months now. Probably because she concluded that I didn’t want to be saddled with any such burden. Especially since she seemed to be living in the lap of luxury. Recently, she confessed to owning another house in Accra, which she said needed some repairs before it was ready to be rented out. Sofokyere is a water-stressed area. I made that discovery soon after moving here. I installed a steel tower and a large poly tank to hold water, so I’m no longer beset with that problem. I noticed two elevated poly tanks on a recently constructed concrete tower about three months ago while passing my neighbor’s house. I knew instinctively and immediately that the teacher was far from experiencing economic hardship. She was merely exploiting me for her own benefit.

THE SECOND WOMAN

The lady who lives on the same property as me is defined by her seemingly unlimited energy and hard work. She rises long before daybreak with the caretaker’s wife and 15-year-old daughter. Together, they prepare Kenke over a fierce wooden fire to be sold to community members, who come by each morning to purchase the delicious morsel. It is a daily ritual that they never seem to tire of. During the performance of this diurnal duty, a large aluminum bowl of edibles was also prepared for their patrons and placed on this young woman’s head. Everything is carried to the nearby village of Jinijini and sold. These people are survivors, and they have no high school diplomas or university degrees. Nevertheless, they understand life and know instinctively that they must work to survive.

When she returns from the neighboring village, she saunters through the large iron gates with a huge burden on her head. It consists of large pots, bowls, and pans, probably taken to the stall at the roadside in the nearby community to facilitate more business. They are all unloaded, and then she begins the next leg of her daily routine. The vessels are lined up in order of size. The largest containers are at the end of the line. She begins by scouring the smallest cauldrons first. She completes this chore before noon when the Ghanaian sun is in mid-heaven and blazing with merciless heat. A community banker arrives on the property riding a motorcycle shortly after mid-day to collect the money left in the kitchen for her. These people are business-minded. Not only do they work hard, they also save.

Early one weekday afternoon, as soon as I arrived on the property and passed through the gates, my attractive female friend summoned me. She was standing beside a peddler of fine clothes in front of my neighbor’s kitchen. She wanted me to give her some money to make a purchase. I returned to my apartment for two hundred and fifty Cedis, which I handed her. For some reason best known to her, the 15-year-old younger sister flew into a jealous rage and exclaimed, “That’s not fair.” I’m certain she would have created a far more uncomfortable scene if I had not pacified her anger by handing her some money. I have always been amazed by the fact that some people become emotionally and psychologically threatened when acts of generosity and kindness are rendered to others.

While seated on a concrete slab at the back of the property with my bare feet on the ground, I saw the lady walking towards the large metal gates. She wore a black outfit, and after greeting me, she announced, “Mr. James, I’m leaving.” “You are leaving?” I questioned. “Yes,” she replied, “I’m going to Berekum.” I then invited her to come and sit beside me. She did, and we struck up a conversation. “Mr. James, I need money to do my hair,” She observed. “If you want me to cover those minor expenses, you must do something for me. You will have to clean my apartment and iron my clothes,” I countered. She promptly agreed. After about two weeks, she arrived at my back gate, indicating she was ready to perform my suggested chores. To obtain the money she desired. I let her in, and she worked excellently cleaning those areas in my hall, dining room, bedrooms, and kitchen. She left afterward. I thought she would return the following day to do the bathrooms, but she never showed up.

One morning, I went over to my electrical meter to verify that there were no urgent beeps emanating from that device. Such sounds were designed to warn me that my electrical credits were low and that I needed a recharge. While there, as usual, I noticed that Ms. Sarah was busily washing her large pots and pans, earnestly preparing for the next day. I walked over to where she was seated and asked, “Don’t you want your money? I will happily pay you when you complete the other remaining chores.” She responded, “Mr. James, I couldn’t come because I was tired.” Knowing the circumstances of her life, I was very willing to buy her story.

Moreover, she assured me she would come to my apartment within two days. She came and did some ironing but left within one hour of her arrival. I thought her actions were strange, especially since she had never returned. In vain, I waited patiently, but she never came back. After a few days, I carefully examined the clothes she had pressed. To my great shock and amazement, I discovered that the clothes had not been properly ironed and the bathrooms had never been cleaned. What a contradiction, I thought to myself. “Is such a state of affairs even possible?” I questioned myself. “How can a woman be such a hard worker, yet completely unable to properly iron clothes or clean two bathrooms?” This state of affairs was not dissimilar to a lady I knew who was a fine seamstress and an excellent cook but was seemingly incapable of keeping a clean and well-organized house.

(TO BE CONTINUED)