Page 45 - Obruni In Ghana | Amber Lockridge

OBRUNI IN GHANA 43
“No, no, no,” I lied. “I can’t take you to America. I’m too young. My government won’t recognize me until I’m 21.” This was a blatant lie but it had worked previously to navigate the fine line on this issue between offending the suitor and encouraging his attention. Had she been here, my host mother would have chased the man from the store with every manner of loud reproach. In this case, however, the blankness of his eyes and tightness of his grip showed my words had failed to sway him.
“Oh, why, oboroni? You are too beautiful. You must take me to America”. “You have a boyfriend?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s Ghanaian”. He continued to stare mildly, stroking my captured hand, unconvinced or unconcerned. My lies had failed. Trapped and in pain, I could endure no more.
“Sisters, please help me.” I begged of my captors “I am tired”. This time, they took pity on me and shooed him out of the store and I settled once again into the timeless rhythms of breathing.