Life in Mataheko was like swimming in a sea of fascinating experiences. My father, Mr. E.K. Frempong bless his heart, gave it his all to provide for us, but alas, his constant My father, while providing for our family to the best of his abilities, was entangled in altercations with my mother that ultimately led to their divorce. The weight of their disagreements overshadowed my academic pursuits, as I found myself lacking the support and encouragement so crucial to my success.. Now, picture this: I was a sharp-as-a-tack student, shining like a diamond during my time at Datus Complex School. However, my academic journey suffered a few bumps and bruises because, well, I was like a fish trying to ride a bicycle – no coach and zero encouragement.
Mataheko was a community where parental control took a vacation longer than a hibernating bear- a place of juvenile independence. The children, including yours truly, were as free as a bird without good parental care. We roamed the neighbourhood like a pack of wild monkeys, exploring every nook and cranny. Oh, the life lessons I learned, from dazzling footwork on the football field to the mystic arts of charm and wooing the opposite sex. Funny enough, in that very community, I stumbled across the love of my life. Talk about fate playing hide-and-seek in the most unexpected places!
Meanwhile, my father, captivated by his new wife and cherished newborn, waned in his attention towards me. You’d think he could spare a moment to notice the remarkable grades I was earning at Accra Academy, especially in the coveted elective English class. But alas, he seemed to have hopped aboard the train of disappointment, losing faith in me faster than a hot knife through butter.
At a tender age, I learned the art of independence, my determination fuelled by the sole purpose of bringing a smile back to my dear mother’s face. That divorce had cost her a lot, and I was all set to be her knight in shining armour. Fast forward to my time after Accra Academy, and I had a spiritual encounter that transformed me tremendously (thanks to Rev. Eastwood Anaba). I became a born-again believer, preaching the good word of God, even starting a prayer fellowship that aimed to reshape and redirect the lives of the youth in our community. Boy, oh boy, we were a vibrant bunch, gathering on Wednesday and Friday evenings, igniting spiritual fireworks like Benny Hin at a world-class crusade!
But, oh dear readers, fate can be a wicked trickster as I stated earlier. You see, my aspirations of becoming a pastor, like a game of snakes and ladders, suffered a tragic collapse, from the top. Why, you ask? Well, let’s just say I lost my rose-coloured innocence to one of my dedicated female fellowship members. I stumbled into the depths of folly, breaking my vows of chastity.
My critics took great delight in ridiculing me after the event, casting me in the same light as the biblical figure Sampson, who was tempted and ultimately fell due to the influence of a woman. They revelled in my perceived downfall, using it as an opportunity to discount my messages and belittle my integrity. Their happiness fed off my supposed misstep, spreading like wildfire through the gossip-laden streets of Mataheko.
Deep within the chambers of my heart, I grappled with the consequences of that one fateful night at the rear seat of my dad’s Opel Rekord. The weight of regret pressed heavily upon me, casting dark shadows across my once-strong convictions. As guilt consumed my soul, the triumphant voices of the naysayers grew louder. It wasn’t easy at all!
The shame of that incident ripped my moral authority away, leading to the collapse of the group. Determined to make amends, I immersed myself in acts of service as I soldiered on as a Sunday school teacher at the Foursquare Gospel Church, until a disheartening clash with other members nudged me toward the Word Miracle Church just as it was packing up it bags to relocate from Circle to its current digs in Dzorwulu.
Seeking an outlet for my dramatic flare, I joined the church’s youth drama group for what I believed would be a path to self-discovery. My heart was yearning for guidance and solace, so I embraced the counsel of a man I had always looked up to for his understanding and concern.
Trusting him implicitly, I confided in him with my deepest secrets, knowing that his advice would be filled with grace and understanding.
However, the course of trust took an unexpected turn. In the course of our friendship, I stumbled upon a truth that would shatter my perception of my new friend. In a moment of vulnerability, I discovered that he was living a life hidden from the public eye—he was gay and had attempted to lure me into a relationship.
The revelation plunged me into a deep state of shock and confusion. The trust I had placed in my new mentor crumbled, leaving me feeling betrayed and broken. It was as if the sanctuary of the church had been tainted by the very person who was supposed to bring solace and comfort.
With a heavy heart, I decided to leave the church without gathering the courage to share my story with my colleagues in the drama group.
I bid farewell to Word Miracle, trading its pews for the company of my wandering friends who, like lost sailors, were yet to find their anchor.
These friends, though ensnared in negative habits, offered a sense of camaraderie and understanding that proved enticing to my journey.
With a flicker of determination ignited in my heart, I took on the role of a leader within the group of friends. However, despite my intentions to transform them, I inadvertently found myself adapting to negative habits and losing my own sense of direction.
My dear friend, amidst this tumultuous period, something unexpected happened. My command over the English language had become a magnet for young ladies who were captivated by my ability to play with words and exceptional sense of humour. Mr Frempong’s house, was now filled with laughter, exciting conversations, and the energy of these attractive women.
This newfound attention emboldened me as I found myself swept away in a whirlwind of affairs, this time without remorse or regrets. Stupidly, my allure and immoral reputation made me the envy of the community, but for reasons that brought me no pride.
My father’s living room became a haven, housing roughly eight of us every night, like a tavern for weary souls seeking refuge. While he nonchalantly observed this odd gathering, he occasionally reminded me of my rampant uselessness and painted pictures of my bleak future.
Lost in a sea of distractions, I began to lose focus, drifting away from my earlier convictions to make my mother smile. I forgot who I truly was and fell victim to the constant craving for excitement and instant gratification. But, as with every great story, a glimmer of hope shone through in the form of a wise and caring few within the community.
These kind souls, recognising the potential in me, offered their support and guidance. They reminded me that, deep down, there lay a wealth of talent and skill waiting to be unlocked. Encouraging me to embrace my true abilities, they urged me to return to the roots of my skills and fulfill my potential.
lo and behold, a ray of hope beckoned me towards a career path suggested by both teachers and friends. They proposed a myriad of options, with journalism gleaming as the most suitable, given my dread of mathematics.
In the midst of my relentless pursuit, a new and enticing ambition took hold of my thoughts: to travel to America or the UK in search of greener pastures. Caught in the grips of this tantalizing dream, I made the bold decision to leave school and dive headfirst into a wild career with visa agents, hoping they would be the key to unlocking my ‘borga’ dreams.
With eyes set on the horizon, I embarked on this new adventure, filled with optimism and relentless enthusiasm. Though faced with numerous challenges and setbacks, my determination fueled me to strive harder, pushing past failures and disappointments with unwavering perseverance.
However, as with the ebb and flow of life, this chapter eventually came to a close. Realizing my true calling was in journalism, I could no longer ignore the pull of my passion. The job of a visa agent had its own limitations, and I lacked the necessary resources to continue the venture on my own.
With a heavy heart, but with a renewed sense of purpose, I made the courageous decision to return to my true path, starting my journalism course from scratch. Though it seemed like a setback, I saw this as an opportunity to grow even further, armed with the wisdom and experiences gained from my unexpected diversion.
To be continued….
