“Gbedemaaaaaaaah” my mum yelled for
the umpteenth time from the Kitchen after apparently calling me all the while.
“Yes, mum, I’m coming” I
responded vulgarly on top of my voice from the room I shared with my kid
brother. I was anxiously getting prepared for the big day. It was ‘Our Day’ and
I was wearing one of my well ironed gray political suits, humming and forming
images in mind about how the day was bound to turn out. At nine years, I had
five political suits. I got the first one when I was four years and since then,
it had become a ritual to proceed to the only Tailor in the neighborhood for
him to take my measurement for eventual designing of a ‘top and down’ for my
Christmas and every important function in the coming year until another was
sewn in December.
I cherished those moments i walked
into the Tailor’s shop with other people practically queued up to take their
measurements, and to instruct the Tailor on the kind of style they wanted. Usually,
it turns out that nothing has changed about the previous style they sewed, but
you can’t blame them feeling all important as they direct him on what he should
do.
I quickly zipped up my flap, wore
my ‘under green’ canvas and walked out of my room into my mummy’s to watch
myself in her vanity dresser. I turned around to see how my back looked like,
almost turned around again and was satisfied with my looks. Yes, at nine, I cared
about my looks. I had a girl called Dedevi and I was looking forward to showing
off my new political suit since it was the first ‘our day’ in the year. I had
to, because I knew she was also going to dress-to-kill.
I hurriedly walked into the
kitchen to attend to my mummy’s call, but she was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t
worried since it wasn’t about her. She called to notify me that she was done,
so I got closer to the cabinet where my cane woven basket with a bowl of rice and
stew and one bottle of 7up and a Bouna biscuit was neatly arranged and covered
with a beautifully embroidered napkin. I knew what to expect since it was the
norm but I had to ascertain what was in the basket.
After certifying the contents of
the basket and smiling sheepishly to myself, I carried the basket carefully
into the living room and that same care was to characterize the carriage of the
basket until everything I had in it was emptied.
I went towards the living room
divider where my mum always placed my pocket money except the money had been
doubled today. I pocketed it without checking the sum, because I knew my mum
couldn’t lie to me. I walked to the center table, picked my woven basket in one
piece and stormed out of the house with the trap door shut behind me.
The atmosphere on campus was
euphoric as both boys and girls started hailing me as soon as I went through
the gate into the school. I couldn’t help but to sway my head like a pendulum
oscillating endlessly. Everybody was immaculately dressed and was looking
beautiful in their one-time dresses. Some of my friends were checking out my
outfit while others wanted to know the content of my basket as if they were
actually expecting anything different from the normal rice and stew. Some had
seen my pair of shoes before so the main focus of their inspection was actually
on my gray political suit.
They escorted me to one of the
rooms where everybody had lodged their basket of food and drink(s), after which
I went in search of Dedevi. Most of the pupils were loitering around that
particular classroom and won’t go anywhere, because they were protecting their
valuables. They couldn’t afford anyone taking or tampering with their baskets
Dedevi was my first love and was
one of the reasons why I went to school every day. Untill she became a
stumbling block to my studies from our teacher’s perspective. we shared same
desk and shared all the candies her mom stuffed her bag with, however, my
teacher, Miss. Boamah had to re-arrange our sitting positions because she claimed
we were always talking.
I loved Dedevi so much even
though I could not express how I felt towards her. Either I didn’t know that I had
to convey my feelings to her or I just did not know how to go about it but I knew
heavens had even endorsed my love for her and she knew it herself and all our
class mates knew. Dedevi was eight years and already had prospects of becoming
a very beautiful and a brilliant woman. She already knew how to control her
strides, she was already aware of the numerous advances from the other guys in
the school, yet I was the only one she warmed up to.
If we were not in love, how come I
felt moody when she was caned in class for getting some of her class exercises
wrong? Why do I feel good when I was teased that she was my girlfriend? Why do I
secretly watch her play ampe with her friends when I should be playing football
with my friends? Why was I worried if she got herself in trouble and
practically followed her everywhere?
Loving Dedevi compared to what I have
come to know now was blissful and turned out the best. All I had to do to
satisfy Dedevi and put smiles on her face was to look into her eyes. I needn’t
take her to the movies, rivalry from other guys where she would be trying to
choose from other alternatives was non-existent, and I needn’t take her to any
fanciful eatery to get her attention neither must we drive around town just to spend
much time together. Loving Dedevi came without stress.
When I finally saw Dedevi with
her two best friends; Tutua and Joan at where I thought I would see them, it
was almost time to assemble for the program to start. The bell for assembly
rang and everybody fled towards the assembly grounds.
To be or not to be….
I put one and one together and
stopped Dedevi in the way, ask her to meet me behind the headmaster’s office
since it was the best place we could have our privacy. I calculated that, all
other things being equal, no one will dare be around that location and it was
the last place someone will be looking out for deviant pupils. She gladly
followed me to the corner.
Here we were, looking into each
other’s eyes and panting. I didn’t know what to do next. I was just standing
there, clueless, with so many thoughts running through my mind. I thought I had
carefully planned this in my mind.
We had just gotten there but it
seems like eternity, as we heard the grumpy voice of the Headmaster who was
noted for instilling discipline into any pupil who will play the buffoonery. I was now edgy and torn between making a false
move and pulling her away from the headmaster’s office to the assembly ground. I
chose the latter, so I stretch my hand for hers so we can leave, and that was
to be the gesture that changed everything. She thought I wanted to embrace her,
so she walked into my arms instead and embraced me too and all I could manage
then was to roll my eyes.
I still did not know how she did
it, but that was when she tilted my chin and planted her lips on mine and
kissed me. Dedevi had just kissed me and it felt good and all I could think at
that time was how to break the news to my friends instead of returning her
kiss. i was awashed with elation and that was when it dawned on me about where
we were and how politically incorrect we were acting and as If on cue, we heard
some footsteps approaching our direction.
8 comments:
Story must continue.... What happens next? :)
The writer set out to talk about his first kiss. There was a kiss therein, so the story is ended :)
carefully elaborated, i really felt the story within....
No writer writes in vacuum. you visualize a reality and write about it. so, tell me, are u the one?
Like you said "you visualize a reality and write about it"....so depending on how vivid and expressive you can be, you can actually stage a reality in the vacuum.
Dedevi really existed but that was all there was to it... :)
Ampofo, your presence is much appreciated
am now trying to remember how my first kiss happenned. man a bad, long long time
Just calm down and go back into time and you will recall everything...
Post a Comment