was only six months old when my mum traveled to the UK, leaving me in the care of her trusted friend, Aunt Serwaa, a trader in one of Kumasi’s big markets. My dad had already left for the UK while my mum was still pregnant with me.
By the time I was eight years old, my childhood was already filled with challenges. Each day started at 4 a.m. when I had to wake up and do house chores, while Aunt Serwaa’s teenage daughter, Awurabena, slept peacefully. I also became the “porter” of the house, carrying heavy sacks of corn used for making popcorn from the storeroom to the entrance of the house. Each sack weighed 25kg, and I carried between 25 and 60 bags daily.

In the same house lived a family: a woman, her husband called Nyamekye, and their three sons. Nyamekye began behaving inappropriately toward me. He would dip his finger into my ‘cookie’ and do things a girl my age had no business engaging in. I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but I knew it made me feel ashamed and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Aunt Serwaa was often too busy with her work at the market to notice anything.

On top of this, Aunt Serwaa and her daughter mistreated me. They would beat me at the slightest provocation, and I was painfully aware that I wasn’t part of their family. Neighbours hinted that she wasn’t my biological mother, and deep down, I already knew.

When I was little, Aunt Serwaa would occasionally give me the phone, saying her “friend abroad” wanted to speak to me. That friend, I later learned, was my real mother. I thought I could confide in her and tell her about the hardships I was facing. But every time I tried to open up, she would shut me down, saying I was a bad child. She never gave me the chance to explain myself.

I spoke to my dad sometimes too. He would always assure me that things would get better, but I was never brave enough to tell him the full truth.

Eventually, Nyamekye and his family moved out of the house, and I felt a sense of relief. But my challenges didn’t end there. Awurabena, Aunt Serwaa’s daughter, brought her fiancé into the house, an upcoming musician. He also began behaving inappropriately toward me. He stuck his fingers into me, making me bleed and also leaving me with reproductive health issues. I was suffering but who could I turn to?

During this tough time, I thought I found a friend in Akua, a young lady Aunt Serwaa had hired to help her at the market. Akua was kind to me at first, and I trusted her. But that ended when she also began treating me inappropriately. I didn’t know what lesbianism was but she was one. She tried turning me into one.

I desperately tried to tell my mum about what was happening, but she never listened. Every time I said I had something important to share, she would cut me off.

As I grew older, I began to believe the lies people told me like Akua once told me that if someone truly loved you, they wouldn’t protect themselves during intimacy. I didn’t know better and had no one to guide me. Meanwhile, Aunt Serwaa’s strictness made things even harder. She would lock the main gate anytime I went out to buy something, even if it was something she sent me to get. If I came back late, she’d lock me out completely. That’s how I learned to sleep at friends’ houses.

I started keeping more male friends because they seemed to understand me better, but many of them only found new ways to take advantage of me. I fell into a cycle I didn’t know how to escape.

After completing basic education, my dad returned to Ghana, and I went to live with him and my stepmom. By then, my past experiences had deeply shaped me. I found myself making poor choices and doing things I’m not proud of, even with close family members. Looking back, I realize it was the unresolved pain and trauma from my childhood that led me down that path.

Today, at 31, I am a bitter single mother of two. My children, aged 12 and 8, come from two different fathers. I’ve had multiple failed relationships, countless regrets, and about 18 pregnancies I didn’t allow myself to birth them. I’ve battled several health challenges, but by God’s grace, I’m still standing.

Through it all, I pushed myself to go to school and build a career. I’m now a professional facilitator living abroad. My dad has been a tremendous support system, and I will forever be grateful to him. My two stepsisters have also been a huge blessing in my life, and I appreciate them more than words can say.

Three Months After Our Breakup, He Got Married

But to all parents, please pay close attention to your children. Listen to them. Protect them. Be their safe space. You may think you’re doing your best, but if you don’t hear your children out, you might lose them in ways you can’t imagine.

As for my mum, I still struggle with the pain of her neglect. I blame her for the adult I’ve become: cold-hearted, quick-tempered, and full of trust issues.

This is my story.

—Goodness

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