“Wait, what?” I asked in surprise. My own voice startled me.
“Well… yes”, she replied.
At that point, I wanted to be like this guy:
But let’s backtrack a little so you can understand what’s going on.
The End of a Thing
There’s a certain verse in the book of Ecclesiastes. It reads like this:
Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof…
Ecclesiastes 7:8
I guess it depends on what that “thing” is… but certainly, generally, better is the end of an academic term than the beginning. I think most people would agree.
24 Hours Earlier
My last paper of that first year wasn’t bad. I don’t remember what it was, but that only means it did not rock me. At the very least I can be sure it wasn’t P.E.
Anyway, another term was ending, and the next time I set foot in Motown, I was going to be in form 2. I would finally be somebody’s senior. It was a good feeling. The feeling of a survivor. E dey be pass.
We actually finished our last paper quite early, so there was a lot of noise on the form one block during the break time. Akua and I went to get vitale and mini-sausage rolls at the Home Economics block; the same place we’d gone together on my birthday a few months earlier. This time, I insisted on paying, and she let me. As usual, we laughed a lot, but I noticed that she seemed ever so slightly… edgy, maybe? Like she was thinking about something half the time.
That last paper must have been tough for her, I assumed. There was no point in spoiling the mood, however. Tomorrow would just have to worry about itself. I pushed the thoughts aside, and we enjoyed our snack and walked back to the form one block. If it were any other school, I would have said we walked back hand-in-hand, but not in Motown. In case I haven’t told you before, holding hands is a punishable offence in Motown. Do your body “Papa Romantic”, and you’ll be shocked to find yourself swinging a cutlass in the bush as your punishment.
Finally, the school bell rang for the end of the day, and by extension, the end of the term, and the end of an academic year.
Ahead of us were two long months of vacation enjoyment—no seniors, no bells. Sweet sweet rest. No bells and no seniors. The soft life.
Closing Assembly
One of the formalities left to be taken care of was the closing assembly. Students who had been caught cheating during exams were called to the front and thoroughly disgraced.
Rev B also got worked up about our noise-making and made us bow our heads “in shame” and ask for forgiveness.
To crown it all, we endured the boring speeches and announcements. Same old, same old.
There was something worth noting though: one of the Kingsley housemistresses was going to become an assistant headmistress. We were going to start the next academic year with three headmistresses… and thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born!
You know how people like the Powerpuff Girls and think they are cute? The whole “sugar, spice and everything nice” vibe? Yeah, these gals were not it. Chemical X nkoaa, ei! But that’s not a story for today.
The chapel prefect gave the announcements; Aggrey form one boys were going to be taking down the canopies at the chapel. That was hard and dirty work, so I was annoyed.
After a short while, the closing assembly was over, and everyone was excitedly leaving the chapel to go and begin packing for our departure the next day. Everyone except Aggrey form 1 boys, of course.
I meant to ask Akua if she he had any plans for the vacation, but somehow I had forgotten during break time. I’d been hearing good things about a new cinema that had recently opened at the Accra mall (yes, Silverbird had come fresh-fresh), and I was thinking of gathering my coins so I could take Akua to go see a movie. Of course, that would depend on a few factors, like the price of a ticket, whether she would actually want popcorn and a drink during the movie, whether she didn’t mind sitting in a trotro, and most importantly whether or not she was allowed to leave her house… but one thing at a time. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.
I saw Akua and her posse slowly leaving the chapel. They were discussing something, but I didn’t know what, and I didn’t have time to find out.
“Hi Ama, hi Emefa, hi Nhyie, hi Nancy”, I piped.
The chorus of “Hey Kodzoo”, “Hi Kodzoooo” was always refreshing, and they made Akua blush a little. She still seemed a little edgy though, as she gave me a weak, yet genuine, smile. Her squad began to peel off to give us some room to ourselves, which was quite nice of them.
“You don’t look too good,” I said. She tried to widen her smile. “I’m fine”, came her reply.
“I’m not buying that. Was it the last paper?” I asked.
She laughed. Like she really laughed, “Ah no! That easy thing?”
“Then what’s up?” I asked, a little relieved.
“Ermm, well there is something, but… but… I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”
I could see in her eyes that she was getting uncomfortable, so I let it go.
“Anyway”, I said, lightening the mood, “how would you like to go and see a movie with me at that new cinema at the mall?”
Her eyes lit up, and then a thoughtful look came over her, like she had remembered whatever it was she was thinking about again. “Ermmm, it depends-“
All of a sudden, “HERH! KODZO!!!” a rude loud voice interrupted, “your mates are working on the canopies and you’re gating!” (‘Gating’ is what we called it when a boy and girl were off by themselves chatting romantically)
My heart skipped a beat as I spun around to face the owner of the voice. It was Elorm; the assistant Aggrey House prefect. I opened my mouth to explain, but the boy wasn’t done shouting. “I’m not listening to any explanation. Cloq!”
At this point, I realise I have achieved a wonderful feat by writing about a year’s worth of experiences in Motown without once using the word “cloq”. Mind you, this is a word we heard almost everyday. It means “kneel down”. Don’t ask me where the word came from—I’m as clueless as you are. All I know is that in the next two seconds I was on my knees, cloqing in front of Akua in embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow”, she whispered and took off. She knew things would only get worse for me if she hung around. Elorm seemed proud of himself for destroying my moment. If he had his way, he would have cloqed Akua too, but fortunately, assistant house prefects couldn’t go about distributing punishments to students in other houses. It just wasn’t done.
I went on to spend close to twenty minutes kneeling at the back of the chapel, before being allowed to stand up and join the canopy work. Honestly, I preferred the floor. But as I knelt down, all I kept asking myself was, “Why did she say ‘it depends'”? Depends on what? And what was eating her up? I had this very unsettling feeling. A very very unsettling feeling. I brushed the thought out of my mind and focused my attention on insulting Elorm. In my head of course.
The Next Morning
The next morning couldn’t come fast enough. The night dragged on and on. The Akpakus pranks didn’t help much either.
The seniors were trying out this new prank where they would send you to go pick a book from some guy in another house. The catch was, this person didn’t exist, and the seniors in the other houses knew it. But they wouldn’t tell you. In fact, they’d say something like, “Oh, Kwamena Gyamerah? Right now norr he go G’berg.” (He just went to Guggisberg House) Then this poor junior would go to Guggisberg House and find another senior who would send him off to Livingstone House, then off to another house and so on… until after about an hour, some random senior would have pity and show him the joke.
Of course, the realization that you just spent an hour chasing a phantom all over the school was anything but funny, but the seniors got a kick out of it. Obodai was sent on one of such wild-goose chases. He was not amused.
I managed to steer clear of a lot of trouble that night. I’m not sure how; I just did.
I also heard a rumour that night that Elorm had taken the SAT’s and would not be returning the next term. I was so happy… for me, not for him. Honestly, I was hoping he’d go and flunk his courses—which he never did because he was as bright as he was wicked—but I was just glad I wouldn’t have to deal with him the next year.
If you’re thinking I didn’t like the guy, well… what gave it away? 
Moving on, morning came, and I knew to expect Akua on the East since the school rules had all but evaporated on vacation day. I was not wrong. She actually came to the eastern dining hall for breakfast that morning. When I entered the dining hall I was surprised to see her sitting at one of the Clark House tables with some of her friends.
The last dining session is always a joke; there’s no order, and a lot of people don’t even come.
She waited for breakfast to be over, and for most of the people to leave the dining hall, and then she walked over to C19, where I sat alone. She knew I’d be waiting.
“Hi”, she said. She looked better than the previous day, but you could still see some uncertainty in her eyes.
“Hi”, I replied.
“So”, she began, “yesterday, that was kinda awkward with your house prefect, wasn’t it?”
I laughed hesitantly. Elorm had really embarrassed me. It was not among my fondest memories.
“You said you’d let me know what was bugging you yesterday”, I said, changing the subject.
“Oh, straight to business like that?” she asked. “You don’t know how to play koraa.”
She said this jokingly, but you could see the discomfort returning to her face as she began to fiddle with her thumbs. Then, as if with a forced burst of internal motivation, she sucked in a deep breath and gasped out a sentence I will never forget, “You see, Kodzo, I like you… but…”
In that moment—in those few seconds—it felt like Thanos had snapped.
I knew some life altering event had just happened, but it would take a few seconds for the dust to settle. Someway, somehow, we were not going to leave that table the same, and approximately half of my world was about to disintegrate.
“Kre-kraw”
“But?” I choked.
You see, “I like you” is a full manifesto to a high-schooler. It’s a message of hope and promise. It’s second only to salvation. And this was the first time in my life that a girl was telling me she liked me. Me oo! Efo Kodzo Ametewee-Nutakor! And not just any girl oo… Ahoɔfɛ Akua… Akua Sweet Voice… Akua Dimples… I should have been tingling with excitement, but she had said “but”! I knew I wouldn’t like what followed.
“Please, let me finish”, she said, putting her finger on my lips like they do in the movies. There was no coronavirus. Those were different times.
“Don’t say anything”, she begged.
At this point, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to say “I like you too”, anaa? Isn’t that what I was supposed to say? But as she took her finger off my lips my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I kept quiet.
“Kodzo, I’m… I’m leaving.”
If my silence wasn’t questioning enough, the confusion on my face certainly prompted her to keep talking.
“Remember how I was on inte at the beginning of the term?” she asked. I nodded. Of course, I remembered. She had come late to school and had to do two weeks of internal suspension under Kassa. Apaa Dede had given her a Pythagorean haircut too. How could I forget? But what did that have to do with anything? And what did she mean by ‘leaving’?
“Well”, she continued, “I was late to return to school because I had to go to the embassy. The US Embassy.”
If local man had travelled before I would have begun to connect the dots, but all I knew was how to take a trotro from Dansoman to Achimota. She had to spell it out for me. “I was at the embassy for a visa application. My uncle is taking me to the US. I’ll be continuing school there.”
Her words hit me like a train. My heart did “kre-kraw”.
“Wait, what?” I asked in surprise. My own voice startled me.
“Well… yes”, she replied, rather sadly.
It had to be a joke. There had to be a catch. “You’ll come back… right?” I asked. I knew the answer: how many people do you know that went and came back?
“I… I hope so”, she offered, “but I don’t know.”
“B-But… but… I… I…”, I went silent. There was nothing I could say. The dining hall was practically empty by now. Just the two of us. She kept silent too. There really was nothing to say. My face felt hot. My eyes stung. Somehow, and I don’t know how, the tears never came. My mind flew in a thousand different directions, and I lost track of time.
I don’t know how long it was, but after some time, I felt her soft hands open mine, and she stuck a folded piece of paper into my palm—her last note to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I- I didn’t know how.”
I had no response.
She continued, “I’ve had a little more time to process it, so I wrote some of my thoughts. You can read it in your own time.”
I still didn’t say anything.
We just sat there for a few more minutes while she kept rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb.
“I have to go”, she finally managed to say.
I looked up and saw the sweetest saddest smile I’d ever seen on her face, with just the faintest hint of those dimples. I could see she was hurt seeing me like this. But like she said, she’d had more time to process it. A whole term. I’d had just about ten minutes, and I was already losing sight in my left ear. 
Yes, I said losing sight in my left ear. That’s what happens when your heart does “kre-kraw”.
She said it again, “I have to go. My dad will be coming for me pretty soon.”
She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. There were two thoughts in my head right then: the first was how I would get expelled if any teacher saw that, the second was that she smelled like flowers. What was wrong with me? On a normal day, that would have been a dream come true… but no…not like this.
“Bye Kodzo”, she whispered into my ear before gently planting another kiss on my cheek. I still couldn’t talk, but I squeezed her hand gently and let go. Then she turned around, and I watched for what felt like an eternity as the young lady walked down the aisle of the dining hall to the door all the way at the far end. Each step so graceful.
When she got to the door she turned around one more time and waved at me with that same sweet, sad smile. I managed to curl my lips up with great effort and waved back with even greater effort. If this was the last time we would see each other, it wouldn’t be nice to have her remember me distraught. Then just like that, she stepped out of the door and was gone… along with a piece of my heart.
Herh! Hard guy ayɛ mrɛ. Your boy had gone soft.
Epilogue
Obodai found me in the dining hall about fifteen minutes later. I was sitting in the same position. By some miracle I had still not cried, I hadn’t moved, I hadn’t said a word. I hadn’t even read her note; I just stuck it in my pocket and sat there.
“Kodzo. Ah, you dey here. Your poppie come oo.” Obviously, he had been looking for me for a while.
I didn’t tell him what had happened. I waited for a few weeks before mustering the strength to tell him anything. I didn’t want anybody’s pity.
“You make fine?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I managed a fake laugh, “then adey think small.”
He didn’t seem satisfied with my answer, but my dad had been waiting for a while, and we had to leave in a hurry.
As circumstances would have it, Emefa would go on to start dating one of the seniors from Gyamfi House during that long vacation, and Obodai would return to high school ‘bachelorhood’ with me the next term. Turns out that was comforting. Misery, they say, loves company.
As we walked out of the dining hall, the sky seemed less blue, and the trees seemed less green. It would take a while for things to get back to normal.
It should have ended in tears, and I was certainly messed up inside, but I just couldn’t bring myself to cry. It’s either a miracle or I have malfunctioning tear glands. Choose your choice.
I started with some words from wise King Solomon, it’s only fair that I end with a few more:
…Do not arouse or awaken love until the time is right.
Song of Solomon 8:4
Somebody should have told me this earlier.
Hey, come to think of it, my dad did tell me. 
Not in those exact words, but he did, on the day he dropped me off at Aggrey House for the first time. His words were, “And don’t follow girls! You hear me? They are dangerous! Your mother and I have brought you here to learn… Do you hear me?”
Guess who didn’t hear him…
Focus on your studies, kids. Love no be beans.
