Mama de (the) mama; it’s me again. I can’t believe it’s been exactly 371 days since I last shared updates with you (I had time to count paaa). There’s a lot to discuss; sorry, share. In 2020 and the early part of 2021, things happened paaaa. Please pull a chair and ask those in charge for a day off to listen to tales from Ghana and the world.
In my last epistle, people were crying too much so a chunk of the fila eluded me; after one full year, I can give a better summary (so help me God).
Grief is complicated and I frankly understand family and friends on why they can’t grieve completely or hold back the tears; as different as I am, I grieve through writing (like I’m doing), laugh at the funny memories shared and mostly sit in silence. Hard guy formular (don’t tell anyone, please).
It so happened your absence these past twelve (12) months led to a lot of growing up. We made giant decisions, performed wild arrangements together, lobbied zillions and calmed dramatic tempers (see me doing ‘too known’).
Lemme digress a little ai. I had never understood the logic in people posting the dead on WhatsApp status and Facebook with the caption “Tell me it’s not true”; I laughed sometimes cos the dead cannot reply to the show of affection; after my mum’s exodus on Valentine’s Eve, my eyes cleared at once. I did abuse my WhatsApp status with her images well well: just to show how much I miss her. Sorry, “we miss mummy”.
Now to the weightier matters.
I wanted to do a separate post on grandma’s “welfare and wellbeing”; knowing you, you’ll cry right now so let me just drop snippets of information here like that.
Related: Memoire D’amour (Memory Of Love)
Old lady is fine paaaa and she misses you; also, the antics of the usual suspects around her have increased paaaa. This isn’t news though.
Relax with the tears na I have funny updates for you.
Well, Covid 19 is not a laughing matter but if you were here; the memories would have been too funny to behold. For example, knowing how extra you can be, I was wondering how you’d treat hand sanitizers, washing of hands and especially the wearing of mask. I’m sure you would wear the mask to bed; as for how you were going to take money from your customers de3 I’m sure you’ll sanitise saaaaaaa (Twi word for continuously); lemme laugh and run for my life.
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One of the days during lockdown, I was reminded of how your life would have been without going to the shop to ply your trade. Then again, my mind quickly speculated you’d fall on the radio for all the covid facts, hear says and the conspiracy theories.
The part I was looking forward to paaaaa would have been the daily phone calls to check if we were using the sanitiser; if we had run out of any of the PPEs or we needed provisions to survive the lockdown; as for the checking on people department de3 you’re the class prefect.
Dear Mama, my Remote work experience
Thanks to COVID 19, I stayed home for good 14 months; in the process, I put on weight (I bind all naysayers reading right now); speaking of weight, your last baby has taken a leaf from my book and is happily adding flesh.
At this juncture, if I don’t give Naana Forson shoutout, I’ll get matter. She missed you aaama she grew tall by an inch; this my mouth.
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Where was I mpo. I also kept an afro and grew a long beard (the Osama Bin Laden type). I’m very much aware you would have disapproved ‘mmom’ (though- Twi language).
Scepticism as Ghana begins covid-19 vaccination
I recall our first and very last fight about taking some drugs I bought. That tension wasn’t easy kwraaaa and it taught me a lot about your convictions on the subject of medications.
So, when Ghana did receive 600,000 Oxford/Astrazeneca doses of COVID-19 vaccines in February, I knew you wouldn’t have gone for it even if you were here. Neither a pre-existing condition nor the fact that President Nana Akufo-Addo, his wife and other top officials receiving the jab could have convinced you. Hard ger (girl).
A typical Ama Bea would say something along this line: “I don’t know where the vaccine came from so I can’t put my life in danger”.
Me that I’m typing plenty, ask me if I have gone for mine.
, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.
I passed by to check on you and to let you know you’ll hear from my blog again. The entire family misses you so much, especially the ladies; as for gentlemen de3 …. (I don’t want any problem).
You’re loved, my baby girl.
Related: Matters of The Heart: My Love Psalm
On a lighter note, this morning I was reminiscing why you often chose to call me through Mrs. Forson’s phone when I know you have lots of airtime. Cos you’re Madam HiSense, I know you wanted to check on both of us at a goal without attracting wrongful off net charges from your MTN to my AirtelTigo.
Your only son,
Paa Kwesi Forson