In growing up, my mother occasionally told me that having a single child will be like carrying a handbag and since she was never ready to leave the other arm bare, she wouldn't understand why her children will do same. So, she's been playfully warning me to hold that baton firmly... She still does.
Honestly, I've been blessed to have someone by my side since birth. You might probably not know how it feels to be a twin but I've no other word to describe it if not "it feels complete!", no offence.
Curtis Quarcoo has been a blessing to my life and will be till I depart. Back in creche and kindergarten when we used to swap positions in class every term, then he took over, more theoritical and me, more practical. I remember the days when I used to cry about breakfast, then when mom is out of sight, he'll just finish up mine and laugh. No wonder he's still bigger than I am. We were together in class till separated in class 6 at Seven Great Princes Academy. Then we moved to Tema and sat back together in class. Brainy! He'll be reading novels with candies in his mouth whiles the teacher was in front of the class.
Memories!
My keeper. There are stubborn stuff I just wouldn't want my mom to tell him and when she does, ooohh that look on his face... Then he goes "Akwele!" Making me feel all weighty as if the world's guilt is on my shoulders. When it comes to food, he's an interesting fellow. "Today let it be sweet! When I say sweet, you know what I mean... Awww *with a sorrowful face* you should see what I eat in school..." If you were me, wouldn't you give in your best shot?! Lol.
Spiritually, we are so connected. He understands this better. He's such a helper and an admirer. No one is perfect but his fruits are admirable, attractive and sweet when tasted.
Besides this little percentage of fun and excitement, we fight a lot, and make up all the time. Although we are of different sex, we often behave like my lil sisters-twins; equal share, equal privileges and the like. But my mom will always say, who else will you fight with if not him?
I miss him when we're away from home. The fights over who to watch a particular channel, who to do the laundry on a particular day, how much food he's eating, chores, spending money, even the gossips, dreams, plans, dozing off whiles praying, freaking ourselves out, those unheard songs and notes we sing to disturb the hood... I don't know how I would've turned up if I'd come as a single child or worse case scenario, if we were in different families. Well, I guess if we were in different families, I would have an English accent and he, well... *smiles*
There were days we thought we were so different but even in our difference, we are alike in a lot of ways and surprisingly, it's somewhat amazing and a bit annoying cos I can just tell, he he too... Hmmm. God is amazing, isn't he?
The love my brother and I share is beyond measure. He is the first gift God gave me and I know for sure he isn't taking his gift back. Not today, not tomorrow... I wish the best for you, Curtis... I love you like... Like I love you... Mwuah!!
INSPIRATION: I wrote this simple piece in honour of my twin brother. Many honour their mothers, fathers and lovers in writing, but this is for my 'Other-half'
Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts
Saturday, 21 January 2012
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
HMMM... GHANA
I arrived at the Kotoka International Airport around 8pm on Friday. The first thing i did was take in a deep breath of the fresh, authentic, pollution free Ghanaian air. My, was it refreshing! Having lived in Brookly, Lower Manhattan, New York all my life [I wish! hehe...] all I have ever heard of Ghana were stories told to me my Ghanaian mother Naa Momo and my American dad, Drew Anderston who had married my mother in Ghana during a brief period of study before returning to New York with her before I was born. Making my way down the tarmac to the reception of the airport, I felt a huge nostalgic sense of fulfillment being in my country of origin at last.
I was looking forward for an opportunity compelling enough to pull me away from the legal secretariat job at Oaks and Johns Law firm and thrust me right into Ghana. Kwesi Barnes was that opportunity. I met him working on a case for my firm in Texas and we immediately established a cordial connection. Fortuitously, he was also in Manhattan and it was not long before our relationship graduated into a romantic one. Six months later, Kwesi popped the question and I agreed to us getting married. I squealed in delight when he added that he would like us to get married, in Ghana! Now, here I was, walking into the airport, my fiance and his family coming into sight. How I had missed him!
He had arrived a week before me to make preparations and seeing him now, a flurry of emotions engulfed me. I jumped into his arms and locked his lips in a long, wet, passionate kiss. Oblivious of the presence of his mother, father and aunts, I was jolted back to reality by the questioning, disapproving glances they shot at me. "uptight, aren't they?", I whispered to Kwesi on our way back to his house in Tema. At the car park, I received more of the same when I insisted that I was gonna spend the weekend in Kwesi's house than with his family in their family house. As uncomfortable as it was, I stuck to my guns... I usually do.I had not seen my love in a long while and I would be damned if any 'proper' family conduct was going to prevent that.
On Saturday evening, an event occurred that which proved to be the proverbial "straw that broke the camel's back". I had decided to give Kwesi a 'treat' and so just before he was supposed to arrive from work, I put out all the lights in the house, lit up some candles, changed into some sexy Victorian Secret lingerie and lay down on my sofa, waiting to surprise my sweet black, Ghanaian hunk.
When I heard the click of the door opening, I adjusted into a sexy, lewd position. To my utter disgust, in walked Kwesi, but with his parents! The tension that filled the room could be literally cut with a knife. Excusing myself, I shamefully tripped into the bedroom to change and even before I left, the reprimand had started.
Apparently, from my arrival, complaints had started circling among my reception party. Complaints ranging from me not being respectful, polite, courteous or God-fearing. It was there that it dawned on me, it was a whole different culture; a whole different environment. And in this country, this culture, kissing my fiance in front of his family meant I was impolite, an unashamed woman; my insistence on living in his house before we were married meant I had no scruples and God knows what being found sprawled out in my lingerie meant!
I had learnt my lesson and with heartfelt apologies, promised to behave in a more circumspect manner. I remembered now, what my mother said right I left, "...remember, this is Ghana oo..."
I was looking forward for an opportunity compelling enough to pull me away from the legal secretariat job at Oaks and Johns Law firm and thrust me right into Ghana. Kwesi Barnes was that opportunity. I met him working on a case for my firm in Texas and we immediately established a cordial connection. Fortuitously, he was also in Manhattan and it was not long before our relationship graduated into a romantic one. Six months later, Kwesi popped the question and I agreed to us getting married. I squealed in delight when he added that he would like us to get married, in Ghana! Now, here I was, walking into the airport, my fiance and his family coming into sight. How I had missed him!
He had arrived a week before me to make preparations and seeing him now, a flurry of emotions engulfed me. I jumped into his arms and locked his lips in a long, wet, passionate kiss. Oblivious of the presence of his mother, father and aunts, I was jolted back to reality by the questioning, disapproving glances they shot at me. "uptight, aren't they?", I whispered to Kwesi on our way back to his house in Tema. At the car park, I received more of the same when I insisted that I was gonna spend the weekend in Kwesi's house than with his family in their family house. As uncomfortable as it was, I stuck to my guns... I usually do.I had not seen my love in a long while and I would be damned if any 'proper' family conduct was going to prevent that.
On Saturday evening, an event occurred that which proved to be the proverbial "straw that broke the camel's back". I had decided to give Kwesi a 'treat' and so just before he was supposed to arrive from work, I put out all the lights in the house, lit up some candles, changed into some sexy Victorian Secret lingerie and lay down on my sofa, waiting to surprise my sweet black, Ghanaian hunk.
When I heard the click of the door opening, I adjusted into a sexy, lewd position. To my utter disgust, in walked Kwesi, but with his parents! The tension that filled the room could be literally cut with a knife. Excusing myself, I shamefully tripped into the bedroom to change and even before I left, the reprimand had started.
Apparently, from my arrival, complaints had started circling among my reception party. Complaints ranging from me not being respectful, polite, courteous or God-fearing. It was there that it dawned on me, it was a whole different culture; a whole different environment. And in this country, this culture, kissing my fiance in front of his family meant I was impolite, an unashamed woman; my insistence on living in his house before we were married meant I had no scruples and God knows what being found sprawled out in my lingerie meant!
I had learnt my lesson and with heartfelt apologies, promised to behave in a more circumspect manner. I remembered now, what my mother said right I left, "...remember, this is Ghana oo..."
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