Motherhood

Abena is up again after the safe hours of the night. She is knitting showels for her new born. Her ears are tired of the tiny screeching sounds from her little one, her hands weak from beating taffeta, her waist yielding to the pains of childbirth. Abena wouldn't quit for a second. She has worked all through the day to make sure her home still has value. She left her little one to the warm comfort of the mud house and asked little Mary to watch her so she could visit the stream. She chopped firewood from the backyard at noon and at dusk she sets dinner plates in the homestead. She welcomed Jaja, the man whom she built a home with and nurtured unto greatness. Abena served dinner and watched her family munch from afar while her breasts were being suckled. In no time, silence engulfed the compound but not for long. At this time, her little one has woken up from a thirty minute sleep, screaming like Ashanti the goddess from the Afram River. She cared less because it was the norm. She is knitting and rocking the chair on which she placed the Baby. Her thoughts travelled long and far as she knit and she remembered struggles of her youth, the words of her mother sank deep. 

"Abena your path is that of gold
And your wisdom will build your home
Do not forget that days will come when
Your strength will fail you
Those days when Jaja will not hold the
Baby for you while you beat the taffeta
Jaja may never know that you need the 
Rest of the night
Abena, your hands will make or mar your Home.
Know that you belong to a people whose
Hands builds the walls of a home
A mother to the lad and most times to Jaja who
Instead of a husband becomes a son
Leaving you with the burden of thoughts
Abena, you will defeat these trials one by one
As they come.
Abena you're brave and your heart is pure
Your children shall merry at your feet
Jaja will call you blessed"

As she pondered on these words, she smiled in relief!