The Uprooted Child - Child's Play?
A Touch of Nokoko by Kofi Akumanyi
Take my own kids for instance, since they came to this country they have never stopped asking questions about why they had to leave warm climate to live in this kind of weather. Since these children are very young I have not as yet come round to answering questions about how babies are born and I dread the day I would have to do that.
My little girl came from school one day and threw her school bag down and burst into tears.
"I hate Miriam Douglas" she announced, talking to nobody in particular and everybody who is prepared to listen. When your seven year-old daughter is in such a mood, a father's broad shoulders should be a good place to cry on.
"And who, if I may ask, is Miriam Douglas?"
"She is this classmate in my school. I hate her."
"Now, hang on a second. Don't ever say you hate anybody. It's too strong a word for a child. You probably dislike her for one reason or another. Hate is a negative attitude of mind, it destroys the soul. You understand?"
"No, I still hate her"
"Why do you hate her?"
“Because she laughs at me anytime I dance at our school disco?"
"What a girl! Why should she laugh at you? Haven't you told her that back in your country you were the best dancer in your class?" I cajoled.
"I told her and she laughed harder than before?"
"You mean she didn't believe you?"
"She doesn't believe anything I say. She and other boys and girls always laugh when I tell them that my father has a car in Ghana and mummy drives us to church every Sunday," she cried.
The problem began to crystallise in my mind. The child is having a hard time reconciling her parents' present circumstances with those she knew before she came here. How does one deal with a situation like this? I scratched my head as if prodding it to come out with a satisfactory answer. I tried a favourite ploy.
"Well, next time she laughs at you, you also laugh in her face. That way she'd realise it doesn't hurt you"
"Daddy, I can't"
"And why can't you, young lady?"
"They also laugh at my two missing front teeth!"
"Oh, for God's sake! what horrible kids!" I decided to take the path of least resistance by not saying much.
"When school re-opened after the summer holidays, some of the children said they went on summer holidays in Spain."
"What did you say?"
"That we went on a day's outing at Shrewburyness beach resort."
"And they laughed?"
"Yes"
"You tell them next time that where you come from in Africa, the sun is there for the taking and that you've had too much of it already." I advised.
"I can't say that, Daddy."
"Now, you're being difficult. I'm showing you a way to fight back and you're refusing to do it." I complained with mock seriousness.
"Yes, because I want to go back to Ghana where the sun is . . . I like the hot sun. Then I won't have to go for a holiday somewhere where there is sunshine." The logic was perfect.
"Well, as a matter of fact, we can't go back to Ghana right now."
"I thought you would say that... Why can't we go to Ghana?"
"Suffice it to say that these matters are beyond your comprehension. You better leave it, understand?"
"What did you say?"
"We can return now!" I simplified it.
"Is it because they are killing people?" she expanded what I had said.
"Who said they are killing people?" I wanted to know. "Where did you hear this?"
"I heard it in Ghana before we came here, '' she informed me. "Didn't you run away because things were becoming dangerous where you work?" she asked.
"That was generally the trend of events, but please don't say I ran away. I left the country is a better way of putting it," I said.
"Well, I have already told my friends that you ran away." she said.
"I suppose they laughed at this too."
"Silly little children! What do they know about such things? There is nothing to laugh about this. It's a serious situation we have back in our country. It is more or less like Northern Ireland and their parents don't find anything funny about it." I said. I might have been shouting, for she had a look of surprise written all over her face.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"You were shouting, daddy. You're angry. You hate Miriam too!"
"Oh no, I don't. How can I be angry over a small girls' silly prattle" I said.
"Daddy?"
"What is it again?"
"Next time, Miriam laughs about anything I say I shall smack her face!"
Don't whisper in frustration. GET IT OFF YOUR CHEST NOW! Write to "TALKING DRUMS"
