What could I have done wrong? I muttered.
The headmaster’s office was a few blocks away. Anyone, I mean, anyone, who entered his office during lesson hours, came back to tell their stories. Abena (a local name given to a girl born on a Tuesday) popularly known as “Notorious baby” told the class about her “divine encounter” with him. She was plum, thick and the oldest amongst us all. She was a bully. She had this tribal mark on her left face that made her look scary.
Her eyes were so big that it looked like it was going to fall out from its socket. Everyone feared her. One day, She told the class how she had miraculously survived taking thirty strong lashes from the headmaster and how she ended up peeing in her school uniform on the eighteenth lashes. Even after she had peed and was expecting the headmaster to feel remorseful towards her, he kept on giving her even stronger strokes.
Everyone laughed as she narrated the whole incidence to the class.
“Let this cup pass me by” I prayed softly.
I had concluded perhaps she had caught me sleeping during classes hours which was an offense according to the school rules and regulations. Or perhaps, something had gone missing from her apartment and will like to put the blame on me.
Simultaneously, the shinny balded headmaster walked out from his office pumping into Mrs Emmanuella. Mr Paul, popularly nicknamed as the “mirror man” by the students was a highly strict person with no room for misbehavior. He was nicknamed Mirror man because of his shinny bald hair. I wonder if he knew the students call him mirror man.
“Where are y’all headed to?” I heard him ask. She whispered something into his ears. Exchanging a few words undertone, the both turned to stare at me. Whatever they had discuss, I certainly had no idea.
He walked pass me smiling.
“Geeezzz!” I screamed in my head. I could swear my whole life I have never ever, I repeat, never ever see him smile! He never smile.
Doubling my pace to meet up with Mrs Ella, she turned left and walked right into the JHS 3 classroom.
“Good morning Madam” the students chorused. ( This is a sign of respect and formality done in almost every school to acknowledge the presence of a teacher)
“Sit down” She instructed. “Akosua, come over here.”
All those while, I stood behind the window, noticing everything that was transpiring. Pick that book on the table. Turn to page 34 and read what is there”
Having no idea what this was all about, I obediently did as I’ve been instructed, I read out
“THE STORY OF THE TURTLE AND RABBIT. Once upon a time, a turtle and a rabbit had an argument about who was faster. They decided to settle the argument with a race. The turtle and the rabbit both agreed on a route and started off the race.”
“Stop! Stop reading!”
She commanded. Pacing up and down in front of the class, with her face beaming with rage and anger mixed with disappointment, she stopped halfway through, turning abruptly, facing the class and asked,
“What class do you think she is?”
*Everywhere was dead silent*
Expecting no answer from them, she faced me. Go ahead, tell them. Tell them what class you are in. So they can bury their head in shame.
“Urm, Ple-please Ma-ma-madam, I stammered, I – I am in cla-cla-clas-class 2.”
“Did you hear that? Did you? She asked rhetorically. Shame on you all. Shame! You all claim to be in your final year and can’t even make a single word out talk less of reading the first sentence.”
She kept on ranting.
“Huh? Tell me? How did y’all make it to this stage in the first place? I gave you this assignment two weeks ago. Two good weeks! And you can’t even make out a single word. Shame!”
She screamed finally, more like a climax, looking exhausted, she took a seat whiles panting heavily.
All these while, I stood in front of the class with my head a little bit bowed down, my hands crossed at my back, expecting a savior to come save me from the stares of these students seated right infront of me.
“You can leave now”. She said
“Akosua ! ” (a traditional local name given to a girl born on a Sunday in Western African, Akan)
I heard someone call. “Come over here” the caller added. You know that feeling of someone calling you whiles asleep and you wake up suddenly, staggering to find out who called? Yeah, that’s how I was feeling. The voice startled me out from my slumber.
Last night, I had studied deep into the night taking care of my sick mother. She was terribly sick, terribly. The “village doctor” apparently could not even diagnose what was wrong with her. “Your mother is terribly sick. She might not recover from this “strange illness” , he added. The news struck me so hard, so hard that I felt a sharp pain in my heart. I gave him that shot of look when an African woman hears a bad news. “Over my dead body, I whispered”
Here in my village, Assek (A local community in the Western Part of Ghana) but it had another name, a real name. But that’s how everybody called it. Any strange illness is attributed to Witchcraft.
I got up from my desk, startled. Trying to find out who had called me early on. There was something about the voice actually. It was a familiar voice, but the tone, command and manner in which my name was called was something I couldn’t apprehend. It used to be a sweet, lovable and soft and in fact, more friendlier.
I looked at the class doorway, the windows, my classmates, well, they were all engrossed in whatever they were doing. No one was there. Nobody cared. “That was strange” I thought. Where’s Alice? I asked. Not like I expected someone to reply anyway. Obviously, I was talking to the wind, as always. I wanted to find out from her if she heard or seen someone called me, but she was nowhere to be found. Alice is my best friend. Just in case you might be wondering. We’ve been friends ever since my mum & I relocated back to the village after my dad passed away and our wicked elders took away every single thing. She is a stammerer.
Well, I sighed. I must have been day dreaming I thought. As soon as I was about to take a recess back into my seat, Mrs Emmanuella, our class teacher walked in.
“Akosua, I thought I asked you to follow me? and Kpa, she was gone! My heart missed a beat. Could I have done something wrong? Mrs Emmanuella, was an embodiment of beauty. She was the cheerful type. There was never a dull moment with her. She rarely even gets angry. All the students liked her for her soothing nature. But I like her more. The Mrs Emmanuella i just saw was “someone else”. Our last encounter, ended on a good note. She had asked me to send some books to her apartment after school hours and I gladly did. Just like every students joy to be in the good books of their teachers. “What could have gone wrong?” I pondered
TO BE CONTINUED……
I’M NOT A WITCH – EPILOGUE.
I possess an ancient internal wisdom. I am at one with nature. I revel in the powers of storms. I have a strange affinity with animals. I am moved by the moons energy. I am a natural healer and drawn to the healing arts. I am drawn to crystals and beautiful rocks. And yet, society brands me a “witch” for exhibiting all these powers. Subjected to stigma and numerous forms of atriocities.
My dreams are often apocalyptic. Dreaming of shapes that appear in nature as five petals on a flower and triangular-shaped leaf. I walk into a room full of people and can immediately know if there has been an argument. I can sense if a room full of people are friends or foes. I know if something is just not right. Thus, I am highly clairesentient. I like to be outdoors whatever the weather and at different times of the day and night. In fact, more alive at night. I love the smell of grass after it has been cut. I love the scent of the sand, anytime the rains came down. I can even smell an inbound weather. I feel another’s pain. Therefore people confide in me about their problem and seek out my advice. Children and animals just prefer to be around me, instead of their own parents. Reason being, they sense the magic and wonders in me. I make them feel safe and they know they can trust me. Intrinsically, I know there’s more to life out there and they’re all connected.
I AM NOT A WITCH !!!!!
Perhaps, I could be branded a Witch for exhibiting all these characteristics but then, could it not be that I’ve taken time and keen interest to personally develop? Oh yes. I am consistently improving myself awareness, self knowledge and skills or learning new ones. I have taken time to build self esteem, identified and improved my potentials and social abilities. I have and continue to see the fulfillment of my aspirations. My soul and spirit are developed.
I believe myself as an astute academician, therefore, uphold personal development in high esteem. But they see me as such but I AM NOT A WITCH !!
That night . That very night .
Everything seemed so calm and friendly .
I swear ! I could tell nothing could ever go wrong on this night .
But it seems .. It seems i was wrong .
The sun had gone down
and shadows begun to lengthen .
The street was my home .
” I need not be afraid ”
i assured myself.
but it seems i had it all wrong !
There was a conspiracy in the air!
yes ! yes ! and it coming after me !
it felt like time & fate as conspired against each other . and my doom was set .
As thick like a fog, huge and scary. made of black , grieved with fear, i saw this shadow overpowering mine , turning as fast like the speed of light .
his snarl and growl, more l
like a leopard , made me had goose bumps . !
i took two steps backward .
as i ransacked my brain to seek for shelter .
oh ! how stupid was thy daughter to seek for shelter in this unguarded moment !
i saw my soul been carried away. to the village of only entrance . but no exist. !
yes ! i saw my soul been carried away , in that shapeless canoe.
He laughed real hard and his laughter echoed through my ears like thunder . i was visibly shaken ! i couldn’t feel my legs nomore and fell heavily on the floor.
the evil in his eyes, the wicked smile on his lips.
“Goddess of the earth ” , swallow me up. i prayed .
Trying to seek shelter from the floor ,
watching him doubling his walking pace,
one.. two .. three ..
He made me his victim !
My Name is Joyce. I’m kindda new here anyway. I’m somewhere in Africa lol.
Well, I’m here to develop my writing skills mainly.
You can leave your comments or any other things on my blogs.