(written by )

of my children are still so fresh in my mind. A mother carrying a child for nine good months in the womb and losing that child gorily is hurtfully nothing to write home about. As to whether they were buried or not I do not want to know. Not even today. The last time I saw them was right after the accident happened when they had their faces covered with palm fronds and heads smashed in a pool of blood.

has been trade of sorrows. The very persons I trusted betrayed me. I lost my virginity at age ten through rape. My pride was stolen at a very tender age. I still wandered why I was still alive. If I had not run away from the accident scene and I had stayed till they buried them I am sure I would have been the next victim. Seeking refuge at the Kwame Nkrumah’s Mausoleum also came with its own headache until I spotted this old woman believed to be in her mid-seventies. She was far away from the students who verbally assaulted me because they thought I was mad. With all what they did to me I still decided to pursue them with the missing purse until I realized they were not the rightful owners. The old woman looked very worried. She had a little boy that looked like the grandson. I got closer to her. I thought the boy would run away but rather asked the grandmother if she could spare me some food. The old woman in her troubled mood gave the boy a loaf of bread and a bottled water to be given to me. The level of such kindness was rare. The old woman realizing I wasn’t mad after all opened up to me and confessed she thought I was mentally unfit. I narrated the latter part my story to her. I left her in tears and she asked me to sit down.

. She had just returned from the United Kingdom with the daughter and the grandson. Her daughter and the grandson had to return the following day. She decided to spend some time with her grandson at the park. According to her, she mistakenly took the daughter’s purse. That purse had the daughter’s passport. Unfortunately, the purse got missing at park. Her submission made me understood God was so real. Even in my uncertainty and confusion He used me to perform a miracle. The old woman hugged me in my dirt, I tried to excuse to myself but she told me not to worry; we were all humans. She sorrowfully whispered into my ears: “Adobea, please help me find the purse. I am too old and weak to walk. Gerald my grandson will go with you.” she ended her statement and I looked into her eyes with a smile. She became confused. She realized I was mad after all. I told her, “Grandma, please don’t think I am crazy. I am not. I might have had a bad day today, but it might be your lucky day.” I took out the purse from my underpants and handed it over to her. She screamed and shouted: Jesus! She couldn’t believe I had what she had been looking for all these while. It was then I explained to her the reason why came close to her. She thanked me joyfully, and gave me all the money in the purse. She begged me to wait for her daughter who was on her way there. She further asked if I could come home to stay with her since she will be alone if the daughter and the grandson were to leave the following day. I took the money but refused the offer to stay with her. I was frank with her; I told her I was a cursed child and would definitely bring misfortune to her home. She was a staunch Christian; so rebuked me and said I wasn’t cursed. I told her I had to rush to the market to fetch some clothes. She refused to allow me to go from the beginning but I was able to convince her I was going to come back. I knew deep within my heart I wasn’t going to come back. I kissed the foreheads of Gerald and that of Grandma. I waved them bye and I left.

as I walked along the streets in tears. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but still had faith in God knowing very well that things will be better. I bought some few clothes, went to a public bathhouse and finally came out refreshed. I rushed to the Kwame Nkrumah’s Mausoleum to meet the old woman. My presence there again left her in tears. She recalled her only daughter once donated one of her kidneys to a young girl of my age who was then pregnant. According to the old lady her daughter died through the surgery. It was there I realized the woman we were all waiting for who she called her daughter was a niece. She nurtured her right from birth. Her only daughter was the very one who sacrificed her life for that poor girl of my age.

and Grandma was short of the bottles so I decided to rush out to buy one for Gerald. I returned with the water but from a distance I saw Gerald crying. I run to him only to find Grandma lying on the ground dead. I became empty in thoughts, blind with my mind’s vision and finally I felt I needed to die. I immediately screamed for help. I asked Gerald where Grandma’s phone was. He pointed to the fountain. He had dropped the phone in the water. O my God! ... )