Chapter 4: 🌊~3

The entire neighbourhood was loud and rowdy. Saturday nights were always a nuisance in this town.

I quickly crossed the road and shielded my ears as I walked past a nightclub, blasting out one of Shatta Wale's latest hits. Several people, mostly young women, loitered around in revealing clothes and cigarettes dancing on their lips. I hurriedly walked past, taking a short bend and landing on the dirt road that led to the compound house.

The compound house, which served as a home to about forty-four residents, was a two-story structure that desperately needed intense renovation. The building had lost its vibrant pink colour after holding onto it for the past seven years and termites had feasted on almost all the wooden doors. It was only a matter of days before they'd fall off their hinges. But Alhaji Samli, the landlord, wasn't bothered. He preferred spending our rent on prostitutes, rather than taking good care of his own property.

Greeting the group of elderly women cooking and conversing in the front yard, I climbed up the stairs to the second floor and headed towards the twelfth door, letting myself into the squashed-up single room I'd called home for the past ten years.

With a simple translucent curtain serving as a partition, the room had been divided into two parts. One side for the kitchen, the other side for the bedroom. An old television set sat on a table in the left corner of the bedroom. Close to it was an armchair with worn-out upholstery and a few feet away was the bed Ma shared with Kukua and Maadjoa. This place was obviously too small for the four of us, but since this was what Ma could afford, we had learnt to adjust.

Shutting the door, I proceeded to slide my feet out of my slippers and shoved them to the side, joining the other footwear sitting in a corner.

"Akwasi!" A high-pitched voice called out and my little seven-year-old sister came running to me with a pout. "Ɔkɔm dze me." [I'm hungry.]

I chuckled and lifted the bag of kenkey. "Medze edziban bae." [I brought food.]

Her pout quickly dissolved into a wide smile. "Yay, let me go and fetch water to wash our hands." She picked up a mini bucket close to our kitchen and darted out of the room.

Kukua was my second half-sister. She and Maadjoa had a different father from mine. He used to live with us some years back until the barbaric street lifestyle finally got to him, and he didn't think twice about leaving us. I wasn't complaining though. We were better off without him.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me of my blazing hunger pit and I walked towards the kitchen, pushing aside the old translucent curtain. Placing our supper on a small wooden table, I rifled through the wide aluminium basin we kept our utensils in. There wasn't enough room for a cabinet, so we managed like this. After finding three plastic plates, I set them beside the kenkey on the small table, pulled out a kitchen stool, and began to fill the plates with food.

Just then, I heard the door open, and in stepped my mother, tired and weary from running around in the market the whole day. The look on her face said it all--sales didn't go so well. Her African print dress hung loosely on her frail body as she pushed the sleeves up and pulled her headscarf off, revealing unkempt kinky hair. Her eyes soon landed on me and they widened with surprise. "Akwasi... ɛdze dɔkon bae?" She entered the kitchen. [Akwasi...you brought kenkey?]

"Nyew," I answered. "Auntie Naa na ɔdze maa hɛn." [Yes, Auntie Naa gave it to us.]

"Oh, yɛda onyankopɔn ase," my mother huffed out in relief before settling down at the small table. [Oh, we thank God.]

Kukua returned with water to wash our hands and since there weren't any stools left, she had to sit on the floor close to the table. Ma ordered us to close our eyes for a short prayer, then we washed our hands and dug into the meal wholeheartedly.

Kukua sparked up a narration of how her day went at school. She complained a lot about her teachers and told us about a group of boys in her class who decided to play a prank on their Maths teacher by putting a frog in one of his desk drawers.

I laughed but Ma didn't think it was funny. She then began to lecture Kukua on how important it was for her to concentrate on her studies. As if it would change anything. I knew my little sister well enough to know that Ma's lecture was going straight through one ear and out of the other. I chuckled under my breath.

We didn't have much, but it was during times like these that I appreciated what I had--a loving family. We weren't rich, we struggled to get by every day and we were far from the average nuclear family, but I knew very well that the people sitting right here loved me and would do everything they could to support me in all my endeavors. To me, that was what really mattered in life.

After finishing her speech along with her food, Ma gulped down the rest of her water and let out a satisfied 'ahh.' She set the empty cup on the table then her eyes shifted to the remaining balls of kenkey. A frown of worry found its way onto her forehead. "Ei, ndɛ Maadjoa akyɛr ooo." [Ei, today Maadjoa has kept long ooo.]

The sentence inadvertently revived the memory of my unpleasant encounter with my sister this afternoon. My mouth opened, ready to let the entire story roll off my tongue, but I quickly stopped myself. Ma already had a worrisome look etched onto her face. Telling her that Maadjoa was out smoking and drinking with a bunch of lunatics, instead of being in school, will only send Ma straight into panic mode. "I'm sure she's fi-"

A rapid knock on the door suddenly cut me off and we all turned to the wooden barrier.

"Woanaa?" [Who is it?] Ma shouted, and instead of replying, the person just knocked louder and harder than before.

My eyebrows descended into a frown as I stood up, washed off the bits of kenkey in my hand, grabbed a broom, and headed towards the door. I pushed the handle down and pulled, immediately regretting it when I caught a glimpse of the people who stood at the entrance. I quickly sent the door flying back to them, but one muscled man stopped it with his palm.

"Hey!" He glowered at me. "Yɛ steady." [Be careful.] He pushed the door further so he and his fellow muscled colleague could enter. Ma scrambled up at the sight of them, hands curling into fists. She knew who was coming and she was ready to fight him off like she always did anytime he showed up in our lives. "Stay behind me," she whispered to Kukua, who stood behind her, clinging to her clothes.

The pungent smell of smoke suddenly hit me and I turned to find a dreaded tall figure standing in the doorway, clothed in a long black coat and a matching hat. A burning stick of cigar danced at his lips as he smiled, "Hello ever-"

"Mensah, ɛpe dɛn wɔ ha?" Ma snapped. [Mensah, what do you want here?]

Mensah just shrugged. "Nothing." He stepped inside the room, carrying in the horrid smell. "What could I possibly want from this..." he cast a disapproving glance across the room "... rat-infested hole."

Rat-infested hole? My subconscious scoffed. As if he didn't use to live here four years ago.

"Then why are you here?" Ma bellowed out again, anger brewing in her eyes.

However, Mensah was unfazed. He threw himself in the old armchair and blew out a gray puff of smoke. His bodyguards moved closer to him, flanking their boss on both sides.

I stared at them, heart burning with so much pain and sadness at the sight of what my stepfather had become--a cold-hearted and ruthless drug lord. When I was younger, I used to look up to this man. To me, he was ten times better than my biological father.

Mensah used to be a factory worker at Ameen Sangari. He didn't earn much back then, but he used every bit of it to cater for his family. He was everything a child wanted in a father and everything a wife wanted in a husband. He was so hardworking, supportive, and caring. But all those traits vanished when the government shut down the soap-making factory due to a lack of funds. Mensah spent ten months job hunting, and when he couldn't get anything decent, he turned to drug trafficking.

He kept the whole thing a secret from us, knowing very well that Ma would never approve. Unfortunately, his plan to hide the truth didn't last long. One fateful afternoon, my sisters and I returned home from school only to find out that our father had been arrested for illegally possessing twenty bags of cocaine. Our mother had gone into complete shock after finding out and had been admitted to the hospital for treatment.

After spending a couple of days there, my mother came home and worked with Wɔfa Yaw to bail Mensah out of prison. Wɔfa Yaw was even kind enough to offer him a job at his mechanic shop, which Mensah readily accepted. Weeks passed and things started getting back to normal until Mensah and Wɔfa Yaw had a huge argument. Apparently, Mensah had been getting high on the job, and Wɔfa Yaw wasn't happy about it. He threatened to fire him if he didn't stop, but Mensah decided to take the upper hand and quit working at the shop. He soon found himself drifting towards the same job that got him arrested in the first place.

When Ma and I found out, we were both furious, but Mensah had gone past the stage of caring. He didn't give a fuck about us or how we felt. He packed out of our home and disappeared into thin air. Four years later, he resurfaced as 'Smoke Storm' the newest and richest drug lord in town.

Staying true to his new nickname, Mensah sucked on the burning stick in his mouth and released a bigger puff of smoke into the air.  "Look... I just came here to tell you that Maadjoa will be staying with me from now onwards. She's tired of this, " he waved his cigar in the air, "...life of poverty."

The ferocious look on Ma's face switched to an expression of alarm. Ever since Mensah left us for drugs, she had done everything in her power to ensure that none of her children went down that same path. "Mm-Mensah, no," her lips quivered. "You can't-"

He raised a finger, demanding silence. "Before you say anything stupid," Mensah glared at my mother. "You must remember that Maadjoa is my daughter too. Which means I have a say in what she can and cannot do, and I say she can stay and work for me."

"Are you mad?" I blurted out, startling everyone in the room, including the bodyguards. Mensah turned to me, eyes burning with a strange sense of vexation but I didn't care. "Maadjoa is fourteen," I stressed on the word. "Fourteen! She can't be out selling drugs on the street!"

"Oh, but she is." Mensah pulled himself up, setting his elbows on his knees. "She is and she's making a shitload of money; about three hundred cedis a day. How much money do you make in a day, Akwasi?"

I stiffened and he smiled, "One of my boys came to tell me that Pinto paid you two cedis for all the work you did today."

My confidence started to dissipate and I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. Ma's eyebrows furrowed, surprised that I hadn't told her about this.

"Ten hours," Mensah continued, mockery dancing in his tone, "working in the scorching sun, only for two cedis."

His bodyguards chuckled.

"So, tell me Akwasi, who is mad?" Mensah drew from his cigar and puffed out smoke. "Me or you?"

The question hovered in the air, waiting for an answer, an answer I didn't have. My gaze dropped to the ground, realising how stupid I was to keep on tolerating Pinto's crappy payments when I deserved so much more. Now I was extra determined to quit working for him.

"Well, it seems my job here is done." Mensah got on his feet. "But remember, my previous offer to work for me still stands... if you ever decide to change your mind about working for Pinto."

I raised my head, just in time to spot an amused grin on my stepfather's ugly face. It was then that I knew his original plan. He didn't come here to tell us he had recruited Maadjoa. If he wanted to do that, he would've just sent one of his messenger boys. His real intention was to use that piece of information to bait me into joining his shady business.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't working and Mensah knew because his grin expanded as he tipped his hat. "Have a good evening." He headed towards the door with his bodyguards trailing behind him.

Ma followed and immediately locked the door the moment our visitors stepped out. "Good riddance," she huffed, before turning to me, eyebrows descending into a frown. "Akwasi, why didn't you tell me that Pinto wasn't paying you well?"

"Not now, Ma." Dropping the broom in my hand, I walked past Kukua to the kitchen. A lot was running through my head, and the last thing I needed now was a scolding.

*****

Hello, hope you had an awesome week and also enjoyed this double update. I was feeling quite generous today.

Anyway, what do you guys think of this chapter? I spent a lot of time brainstorming Mensah's backstory, hoping to make it as realistic as possible. Do you think I achieved that or was the whole thing far-fetched? Lemme know in the comments section down below. Your feedback will help me make it better.

Thanks in advance. See you next week Friday with the newest update♡