My Brother Asked About the Price of Rat Poison Because of Our Dad

I was very young when I noticed the tension between my dad and my mom. It was like a thick darkness you could touch with your bare hands. Dad was always angry. Mom was always scared. I saw them exchange words often, but I didn’t see them fight until one evening. Dad screamed at me, “Go inside.” I held the hand of my little brother and we hurriedly rushed inside the room.

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I heard the sound of slaps. I heard my mom scream. There was a scuffle. My dad threatened my mom with a knife. The fight happened in the kitchen. It was a small kitchen attached to the room we lived in. That was where every fight happened.

I didn’t sleep until my mom entered the room breathing heavily. Instead of sleeping in the bed, she asked me to push over and I did. She lay next to me and my brother and cried the whole night. My dad came in very late. He went to bed without a word.

The next evening, he came back from work with a boy following him. He said, “Korkor, this is Kofi. He’s your brother. He’s going to live with us.”

I looked at my mom’s face and wondered why I was the one receiving the introduction and not her. Her face was serene and indifferent. I nodded my head and my dad took Kofi inside the room. I was still expecting a reaction from my mom, but there was nothing.

I was in class five or so, but Kofi was a year ahead of me so he should be in class six. My junior brother was in class two then. Later, I learned Kofi was my dad’s son he had with another woman.

My mom treated Kofi like the elder that he was. He came first before us in everything. He would even eat before us. If the food left could suffice only one person, it was Kofi who would eat the food. It took a little while, but I came to love Kofi. At first I saw him as competition because his arrival took away my position as the elder child. He was huge and taller than us, so he became our protector outside of the house.

My dad would come home angry and expect food. My mom would complain about money and it would turn into a fight. Within a week, my dad could beat my mom twice. I mean the kind of beating that left a mark on her skin.

One day after school, Kofi asked why dad was always beating mom. I told him I didn’t know. He said, “If we don’t do something, dad will kill her.” I asked what we could do. He answered, “When dad shouts at us to go inside, we shouldn’t. That’s when the fight usually starts. If we stay, he can’t beat her.”

What he said was dangerous, but I loved my mom so much I decided we should do it.

This time around, we stayed too long to hear what they were fighting about. My mom said my dad wouldn’t give money but had money to give to other women. Dad insisted on food. Mom pointed at us and said we’d eaten everything. Dad screamed, “What are you standing there for? Go inside!”

I shivered and started going, but Kofi pulled me. When dad turned and saw us standing there, he threw his hand and Kofi landed on the floor. He shouted, “Didn’t you hear me when I said you should go inside?” I quickly ran inside, but Kofi didn’t come. My dad asked, “Are you going to fight me? Oh, she has poisoned your mind so you can stand against my orders?”

My mom wasn’t beaten that evening. Kofi took the beatings while my mom tried to whisk him away. In the night, mom came to sleep in our middle. She spoke in whispers asking Kofi what came over him. My mom warned him never to do that again, but Kofi answered, “If we don’t do anything, he won’t stop.” My mom answered, “It’s not your fight. Leave it for me.”

You would think what my brother did would change my dad a little, but no. It got so bad my mom would send us away on weekends and come for us on Sunday night. I was always scared of my dad. His presence made me uncomfortable.

My mom started selling rice at night. Looking back, I think it was her way of running away from my dad’s tyranny because who sells rice until dawn? She would feed us in the evening, we would help her carry the rice to the roadside, and come back home. We wouldn’t see her again until the next morning.

One dawn, my dad went to the street and dragged my mom home. She was resisting, so he dragged her on the floor and brought her inside. Mom was crying, fighting him to leave her alone. Dad was like, “What married woman sells until this late? Have you forgotten you have a husband?”

Kwesi was already up and was looking at me. We shared the same room with our parents, but the room was divided with a thick curtain. Their bed was behind the curtain while we slept on the mat in front of the curtain. Dad dragged mom past us to behind the curtain. I could hear the sound of her dress being torn. She was pleading that the kids would hear so dad should stop. He didn’t stop. He raped my mom that night while we were awake.

One day after school, we were both in JSS then, Kofi asked me, “Do you know where they sell rat poison?” “What’s that?” I asked. He answered, “Agric teacher said it’s poisonous and kills if we swallow it. If we buy some and put it in dad’s food, no one will know.” I screamed, “What are you saying? You want dad to die?” He answered, “Before he kills mom.”

I warned him not to do that. He insisted he would save money and buy some. Out of fear, I told my mom about it. She thought I was lying. She called us and asked questions. Kofi was honest, “I want to help you,” he answered. My mom slapped his shoulder and screamed, “You dare not try that. Do you want to have issues with the government? Don’t you know they’ll kill you too if you do that?”

Maybe that was the day she hatched her escape plan. She took me to my grandma and said she would come for me. She took my brother to her sister. I didn’t know what happened to Kofi, but mom never came for us. By the time I realized, I was wearing a new school uniform and attending a new school where my grandma was. I dreamt about my mom every day. I feared dad had finished her.

She reappeared when I completed secondary school. Five years had gone by. She looked like a new creature with a skin I never thought she could own. The tear marks were gone. The sad face was nowhere to be found. She smiled and her eyes glittered. She spent two days with us, went for my brother, and took us away with her. I asked what happened to Kofi and she told me, “I looked for his mother and sent him to her.”

My dad didn’t come after us. He married again and forgot about us. Years later, I reconnected with Kofi. We spoke on the phone all day that day. How he cried when my mom left him there and how he wondered what my mom was up to. He told me my mom went back for him but his mother didn’t allow it, and that broke him to pieces.

When we talked at another time, he said he was working on a connection to travel abroad. He didn’t attend the university after secondary school. If he had come with my mom, my mom would have taken him to school. She had a big shop where she sold bags of rice, oil, and other foodstuff. It would have been hard, but I trust my mom would have pulled it off.

He traveled to the US but kept in touch. He told me our dad called one day and was sounding miserable. I took his number from him so I could call him. I told my mom I had dad’s number and she smiled. Guess what, mom already had his number and was sending him money and food.

I was shocked! She said, “He’s still your dad. Would you be proud to hear your dad steals before he eats or he sleeps in the gutters? I’m doing that because of you.”

Currently, we are all living our lives. I’m comfortable and have a family I’m proud of. I visited the US last year. Kofi did everything to take me there. He’s currently working to get my junior brother to join him.

Is Bride Price Still Relevant in Modern Marriages?

My dad? I don’t even know where he is. No one talks about him. He has our numbers but doesn’t call us. He’s currently living with a lady my age because everyone ends up leaving him. Sometimes I wonder how he looks. I wish I could see him and say hello, but it ends as wishes and nothing more. I hope he’s happy.
#MyChildhoodTrauma

—Korkor

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