A Short Story
Burning the Golden Gates
by Tehtey
Like you Ferdi, I also remember the first day I sent you to school. The little happenings even the headmaster having his fountain pen depleted of ink right after writing your name. Did any of we parents assembled that day understand the meaning of that omen. That was not important. That day, you and I had pride in our hearts.
If therefore today, news of your going to secondary school should prick me not enough to blink, there must be a reason, my son.
I should have from the onset confessed how very ashamed I am for the lukewarm ayekoo from the government. Those who passed the Common Entrance Examination (forget about gaining admission to schools of their choices) from the public schools could be counted on one single hand. Your uncle who teaches in far away Keta said, in his zone, of the hundreds who sat for the exams, only six passed. That is not even one of the worst in the country.
Who are we to blame the failures? Walk the streets of your own town. The pupils fidget out of their classrooms and onto the streets. When they should sit behind their wobbling desks, they hop from vehicle to vehicle at the lorry stations selling anything from iced water to dog-chains. Those who do not sell, perch in conspicuous corners at public places, shoe- shining and cobbling. Who says they don't need the precious cedis they get from these activities? Even if the most of this truant money goes into movies and discos. (at this age!) some goes into school fees and meals.
Even if the children are in their class, always one thing or the other wrong with their world. If it is not the leaking roof, it is the crumbling wall. If it is not the absence of the teacher it is the lack of petty necessities like chalk. Just imagine that. Chalk. Chairs and tables are a luxury for which every parent must be specifically taxed you would think we fell our timber outside the borders and import them. If after all these weird problems you passed and gained admiss- ion to secondary school, it is no mean achievement, my son. I should be proud. I am.
Yet, it is the duck who says, he will learn to stand on one foot now, for he does not know when one day a king will ascend the throne of his country and decree that, let no one stand on two feet. I wish I were a duck.
I am sure that you really know what you were talking about when you boasted that you were twelve and therefore knew the worth of money in such matters (matters of buying education I guess). My son, how can you know the worth of money shielded as you are from the rigours of making and keeping money? I sell my smelly fish from grimy baskets. off browned white wawa trays and I make enough to feed all the family your father included. It is the grace of Odomankoma and our ancestors. But you never know how much I have to plough back for miscellaneous expenses which though do not directly go into the stomach, make our daily existence possible. Rent, electri- city, pipe-borne water, lampoo, income tax, Asantehene's Welcome levy... You may not believe it but, last night, I coun- ted not less than twenty such miscellaneous payments. They exceeded by far the amounts spent on our daily bread.
Your father. that bas... If you were in my heart, you would know that I loved him. He was the ideal of a husband to me. Many women have said so. Handsome, educated and a gentleman through and through, he did not drink and did not smoke. I don't mind confessing to you my son that I still love to be snatched by that hag (thank you for that word)?
I tell you Ferdi, she used witchcraft. I know. Prophet Adonaba Attah foretold it. Only I was buffoon enough not to believe him. Now, after what I have seen with my own eyes, I have engaged the holy prophet to work on the matter. After the necessary rites, I'll go to your father and bring him back. Already, I can see the prophet is succeeding. Didn't you say your father wants to leave that witch and come back to me? My son, believe me. There are forces in this world.
But even if your father comes back, I can't see how the basic problem of finance can be solved. Of course it was what began the rift. You said it yourself. It used not to be like this. Whatever the situation, we managed. Then came three more mouths to feed. With miscellaneous payments here and there, with prices in the clouds and almost the same income, things were bound to go sour. Money indeed is the root of all evil - when it is lacking that is. You rightly pointed out that for the one full month, your father contributed C1,500.00. It is all he could afford. Come to think of it, how many government-salaried husbands give that much "chop-money"?
So we here come to one important reason why I might have momentarily let go the pearl of our dreams as you put it. In our hearts of hearts, you and I only wanted what we thought was treasure which no moth or mouse could destroy. So we though of education. Oh yes, it really was the ticket through the golden gates of a future paradise. But Ferdi my son, how much is it worth these days? After the megawatts of mental work, after the time less hours keeping vigil with books, after the heaps of sacrifices, what is your weight in gold and silver?
In the Ministry of Information, your father is an accountant. An accountant is almost like a doctor, isn't he? Yet "he cannot afford a decent charlewote (slippers) to walk in". You said in your letter that those words, my own, spoken in eruption of anger. I don't really remember saying them but, fact is, if even that statement was an insulting exaggeration, the truth still stands that, your father dares not go into a bicycle shop and ask for the price. Yet, my husband, my dear Kwame should have been riding a car by now.
Well, doctors still make money - look at what they charge in the hospitals. Sister Korkor's little boy spent only three nights at Dr. Bentil's hospital and she paid over three thousand cedis. You make money if you become a doctor. But, are you sure you can make it there? Perhaps I should not have asked. But many young people of your promise manage not to make it. They are now talking of university fees. If secondary school fees have brought me such fever, what about...
There is yet another problem. It is these your little brothers Tetteh, Tei and your sister baby Agie. If someone accompanies you to the riverside, you must accompany him to the woods. It is our elder's wisdom. I am expecting help in bringing up your brothers and sister. How soon will your help come if you should choose the tortuous path of schooling? Can I wait? It is for me to answer of course, not you.
Ferdi, the tickets through the golden gates may not be lost. But, I fear the golden gates are burning. Look around you. Go out anywhere in your Ghanaian world and ask how much the education you so much lust for will benefit you, your family, and your people. I have asked the question already but I am asking it again. A man's worth is not all weighted in his money. Still, it is weighted in much of it. Sometimes, seeing what our world has become, I wonder whether you shouldn't have joined the shoe-shine boys permanently on the street.
Well, let me hasten to reassure you. Having said this much does not mean I shall not see you at Ghana Secondary School this year. You shall be there. It is not always when clouds gather that the rain falls. I see you have what most boys lack at your age. This strength of will. This tenacity to a great vision. It is what will see you through life. It is what will give you the quintessential success I so much crave for you.
God be with you, Ferdi.
