Page 63 - Obruni In Ghana | Amber Lockridge

OBRUNI IN GHANA 61
songs. They said my light enhanced them all and every mother there smiled at me and every father beamed with pride. On the way home, I passed through town in my special kente dress. Eight times, before I reached the taxi station, someone commented on me to their neighbor. “Oboroni, no ho ye fie (she is beautiful). O pe (she likes) African- style.” The taxi driver had a conversation with me in Fante and treated me with complete respect. “Aye adze (you have done well),” he told me. “Aye adze paa!”
My sister met me at the door with a beautiful smile and I went to help cook in the kitchen. At least in this house I am my mother’s daughter and my sisters’ blood, even if my skin is white. No one forgets to call me Kukuwa and I hope they never forget to think it. I know I am fortunate because many of the AFS students, after nine months, still live like guests in their houses. As for me, I scrub the bathroom, grind pepper, am not allowed to stay out late, and get yelled at for not going to school.