credit: CBS news
I was once told by a “yellow” boy that the black will always find it hard to succeed. I was 11 then—a hopeless boy with no direction. There was no family to be proud of, and I was dumbfounded in the wilderness – thinking this was the only thing life could present.
My parents got involved in a gory accident in Lasvegas four days after I was a year old. I was once told they would visit an Anty whose lower limbs were amputated and bedridden.
I never experienced motherly love growing up — and most people who are up close to the issue always accused me of inviting bad luck to my parents. Apparently, not a lucky boy. Got broken, heart suffered from bruises by the unprinted words they always unleashed on me.
I kept my head up, with hopes high, and my neck stiffed – eyes glued to the beautiful future my heart yearned for.
Sila raised me, a crooked younger sister of my late mother who was bullied and lacked the nugget knowledge and understanding of parenting. No proper food to fill my stomach, no good clothes to wear, and tears always got my face flooded. I prayed to my maker to hear my humble requests and cry. I needed God’s direction and strength, and He granted that abundantly.
I felt inferior whenever I found myself with colleagues. Then I was in grade 8 in a community school. I suffered from all forms of discrimination, and nothing seemed to work in my favour.
I couldn’t express deep grief, sadness, and rejection at that age because I was a kid. So whenever I experience these mixed feelings of neglect, I sit at walls corners, cry out my frustrations and excruciating pains, and have a monologue discussion on how I can make this wretched life a better one.
“Hope comes from nowhere, except above,” kept me going. At 13, I discovered losing my sense of purpose and uniqueness. My performance in school kept on decelerating. No solution. I always wished for a God-fearing family to understand me better and show me the love I wanted. I opted for adoption.
One hot afternoon on my way home from school, I met a neighbor whose residence was ten steps away from mine. We exchanged greetings, and they invited me over for a talk. I didn’t hesitate because Anty was off to visit a friend.
Invite accepted, and I visited. She asked many questions about my upbringing, summarising them in three sentences. That was the biggest shock of her life. She couldn’t stand it as a young parent. But, she couldn’t hesitate to give me the best advice to help curb the situation.
As events unfolded, I one day reported anty to the security service. The maltreatment was up to my neck. I couldn’t breathe. Anty Sila was prepared for court and sentenced after four months of trial on account of “Domestic violence and child abuse.”
The court handed me over to a care home – for proper training. I never lose contact with Suisan, my neighbor. We could spend hours on the phone, sharing stories et cetera
One day, a good woman who was hard to find drew my attention to my long-standing plan, “ADOPTION.” Everything exhibited indicated that she had the biggest heart to accommodate my bad character and troubles.
At 17, I wanted to be adopted by Suisan, my friend and soon-to-be foster mother. I had an up-close discussion with authorities – at the end, my name was listed on the adoption list. I informed Suisan to trigger a process to get this done. Yes, she did and was adopted.
I received the best care from her. I always felt at home. Happy and always attending to my regular duties as a boy will do for a mother. I showed her love and responded with the same energy. Guess what?
A friend was created out of the wilderness.
She gave me the best education. Suisan is a woman close to my heart. She gave life to rotten bones.
I am writing this as a veteran legal practitioner with a high reputation.
GCBM Contributor: Adjei Boakye.
This story is fiction, and no character or place is real.
