*A Gift from Somewhere*
I was the third pregnancy for my mother; her last two babies had died. I, Kweku Nyamekye almost died too, but as my mother has told me I was saved by Papa Kramo. Papa Kramo was a Mallam who had come to our village when he encountered my mother. She then proceeded to ask him for help, see my mother thought that I was dead, and if I wasn’t, she surely expected me to die. My mother thought that witches were out to get me, and she asked Papa Kramo to give her something to protect me from the witches. He told her, “Be patient and I will do everything…everything…Allah is present and Mohamet his holy prophet is here too. I will do everything for you.” My mother then brought me to him; she tells me that she threw me like if I was a soccer ball, but that Papa Kramo caught me just in time. Papa Kramo took a look at me and he said, “Oh, Allah, this baby is dead!” He took a closer look at me and discovered that I was breathing, that he could count my ribs, and that I was very pale. Papa Kramo was worried and did not know what to say to my mother to comfort her. He asked her to sit and to calm down. He told her not to worry that I was okay, that I was not dead. My mother did not believe him, but the Mallam reassured her that I was breathing, faintly, but I was breathing. Papa Kramo then proceeded to spit on me: once on my forehead and then on my navel, then he spat into his right palm and with his spittle he started massaging my joints, my neck, my shoulder blades, ankles and wrists. My mother told me that I was straining very hard, and that she thought that if I had any life in me, I would at least have yelled. Papa Kramo then asked my mother to listen, “This child will live. Now you Mami Fanti, must not eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday. You understand? When your son is about ten years old, tell him not to eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday, and when he himself does not eat, you Mami Fanti, you can eat. You understand?” My mother understood him, and she started weeping, Papa Kramo kept reassuring her that I was going to live and that she should stop weeping. He then asked my mother to bring him some blue dye for washing and a piece of white cloth. She put me down and went to go look for the things he asked for, but she thought still believed that I was going to die. For she believed that the Mallam was deceiving her, because her other two children never looked as sick as I did, and they had died. Then while my mother was looking for the things he had asked her for, the Mallam had disappeared, and at least that’s what my mother tells me. My mother then believed that I would surely die and decided that I would surely die and decided that she must prepare herself for another pregnancy, because you see, my mother believed that was the only reason why she was created…to have children. She then began to wait for the mothers to come back in the evening, so they could bury me. To my mother’s surprise I did not die. She then gave me my name and she added Nyamekye because she believes I was a gift from God. She believed that I had come from the god of Mbemu, the god of Mbemu had promised my mother to never desert her and that he would come to her once in her life when she needed him the most. My mother believed that it was him who had come in the person of the Mallam. She believed this because the Mallam disappeared without asking for a penny, he didn’t even wait for her to buy the things he had asked for, and he has never been seen again. I lived, and my mother never again lost another child and to this day my mother follows the instruction of the Mallam. She does not eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday.
Now I am eleven years old and I attend school, my mother wants me to be a scholar. But my father he does not understand my mother, and this hurts her very much. My mother is his first wife and she believes that his other wives are the ones who prevent him from treating her fairly. My mother also thinks that my father dislikes me because of what happened last week. It had been a Friday and we had not gone to school, because it was a holiday for us. My mother was going to the farm and she had asked me to watch my younger brother and sisters, then as she’s asking me, my father walked in angrily. He asked me if I was going to the farm, and I told him that I was going to stay. My mother and father left and I stayed but I became bored. Since it was Friday, I decided to go to the river to visit the trap. When my mother and father came home and did not find me, my mother worried, but my father went to get his cane that he intended to beat me with. When I finally came home, my father was furious and asked me if that’s why I go to school, to learn how to trap things. I suddenly dropped the bucket and my father began to beat me. My mom never intervened when my father was punishing me, but this time my father was going too far, and my mother rushed out to rescue me and she received the next lashing. Blood gushed out and when my father saw what had happened he was ashamed and he went to his room. My mother’s scar healed quickly, but the scar was the type which rises so anyone can see it. My father now is worse, he is angry all the time, he is angry with shame. My mother is not affected by my father’s anger, she is just thankful that she has me and my younger brother and sisters and she is eternally grateful to the Mallam who saved me from death.
I was the third pregnancy for my mother; her last two babies had died. I, Kweku Nyamekye almost died too, but as my mother has told me I was saved by Papa Kramo. Papa Kramo was a Mallam who had come to our village when he encountered my mother. She then proceeded to ask him for help, see my mother thought that I was dead, and if I wasn’t, she surely expected me to die. My mother thought that witches were out to get me, and she asked Papa Kramo to give her something to protect me from the witches. He told her, “Be patient and I will do everything…everything…Allah is present and Mohamet his holy prophet is here too. I will do everything for you.” My mother then brought me to him; she tells me that she threw me like if I was a soccer ball, but that Papa Kramo caught me just in time. Papa Kramo took a look at me and he said, “Oh, Allah, this baby is dead!” He took a closer look at me and discovered that I was breathing, that he could count my ribs, and that I was very pale. Papa Kramo was worried and did not know what to say to my mother to comfort her. He asked her to sit and to calm down. He told her not to worry that I was okay, that I was not dead. My mother did not believe him, but the Mallam reassured her that I was breathing, faintly, but I was breathing. Papa Kramo then proceeded to spit on me: once on my forehead and then on my navel, then he spat into his right palm and with his spittle he started massaging my joints, my neck, my shoulder blades, ankles and wrists. My mother told me that I was straining very hard, and that she thought that if I had any life in me, I would at least have yelled. Papa Kramo then asked my mother to listen, “This child will live. Now you Mami Fanti, must not eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday. You understand? When your son is about ten years old, tell him not to eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday, and when he himself does not eat, you Mami Fanti, you can eat. You understand?” My mother understood him, and she started weeping, Papa Kramo kept reassuring her that I was going to live and that she should stop weeping. He then asked my mother to bring him some blue dye for washing and a piece of white cloth. She put me down and went to go look for the things he asked for, but she thought still believed that I was going to die. For she believed that the Mallam was deceiving her, because her other two children never looked as sick as I did, and they had died. Then while my mother was looking for the things he had asked her for, the Mallam had disappeared, and at least that’s what my mother tells me. My mother then believed that I would surely die and decided that I would surely die and decided that she must prepare herself for another pregnancy, because you see, my mother believed that was the only reason why she was created…to have children. She then began to wait for the mothers to come back in the evening, so they could bury me. To my mother’s surprise I did not die. She then gave me my name and she added Nyamekye because she believes I was a gift from God. She believed that I had come from the god of Mbemu, the god of Mbemu had promised my mother to never desert her and that he would come to her once in her life when she needed him the most. My mother believed that it was him who had come in the person of the Mallam. She believed this because the Mallam disappeared without asking for a penny, he didn’t even wait for her to buy the things he had asked for, and he has never been seen again. I lived, and my mother never again lost another child and to this day my mother follows the instruction of the Mallam. She does not eat meat or fish from the sea on Friday or Sunday.
Now I am eleven years old and I attend school, my mother wants me to be a scholar. But my father he does not understand my mother, and this hurts her very much. My mother is his first wife and she believes that his other wives are the ones who prevent him from treating her fairly. My mother also thinks that my father dislikes me because of what happened last week. It had been a Friday and we had not gone to school, because it was a holiday for us. My mother was going to the farm and she had asked me to watch my younger brother and sisters, then as she’s asking me, my father walked in angrily. He asked me if I was going to the farm, and I told him that I was going to stay. My mother and father left and I stayed but I became bored. Since it was Friday, I decided to go to the river to visit the trap. When my mother and father came home and did not find me, my mother worried, but my father went to get his cane that he intended to beat me with. When I finally came home, my father was furious and asked me if that’s why I go to school, to learn how to trap things. I suddenly dropped the bucket and my father began to beat me. My mom never intervened when my father was punishing me, but this time my father was going too far, and my mother rushed out to rescue me and she received the next lashing. Blood gushed out and when my father saw what had happened he was ashamed and he went to his room. My mother’s scar healed quickly, but the scar was the type which rises so anyone can see it. My father now is worse, he is angry all the time, he is angry with shame. My mother is not affected by my father’s anger, she is just thankful that she has me and my younger brother and sisters and she is eternally grateful to the Mallam who saved me from death.
2 comments:
I liked the way you explained the fact that the child knows all this by indicating that the mother had told him the story. So you have added another layer of strorytelling to _No Sweetness Here_ (the book), to complement the rich layers of oral tradition already there. I was curious about the not eating fish--since, in this account, KN's mother had told him that he is supposed to take over the no-fish tradition, I wonder if he is asking when this is going to happen, or why it hasn't happened? The Mallam is also an interesting figure, since the mother has her suspictions about how effective he might be, and the narrator of Aidoo's story presents him as somewhat of a charlatan, but the mother changes her tune when the child survives. In your version of the story, since the child got the story from his mother, it's perfect that he only has the more positive version of the Mallam.
Post a Comment