Now you are all caught up!
The familiar noise of University’s Final-year Mathematics students of class ’15 filled the air as Amma entered the dark lecture theater. The clouds were gray and unhappy and the air smelt like rain. So many people walked in with sweaters and brightly coloured umbrellas.
Amma felt a sharp pain on her back. She adjusted her black jacket on her tightly and taps her foot. Her thick spongy hair stood upright and looked unchanging despite the cold weather. Amma searched her black cross-bag for her head warmer and she pulls it on her head.
Soon the Professor came in and everyone scurried to find a seat. Her fingers found a way to her bag and she pulled out her pen. The lady sitting beside her smelt of strawberry and whiskey and Amma wondered why the smell of alcohol registered in her brain so well.
Statistics is one of her favorite courses but today wasn’t her day. She was just too tired to concentrate. She had never missed a class. Concentrating in class were all she needed to ace her studies but today seemed different, she could care less about what the Professor was saying – partly because she understood what the Professor was teaching the entire class and mainly because her mind was divided.
She scribbled notes on her note pad. February 22, she wrote. She wrote this in different places all around the clean page and closed her eyes as the memory of that day engulfed her.
Amma’s birthday was February 21.Because her father would arrive from a business trip, her parents decided to shift her 9th birthday party to the following day. The entire living room was decorated with birthday junks, a pink cake and music blaring out from the stereo. Few kids from Amma’s class and few kids from the neighbourhood gathered in the living room while Amma’s jovial Dad served them Wakye.
Amma remembered how her Mum tucked her in between her laps and combed her thick hair carefully. She twisted ribbons on each parted handful of hair and when she was done Amma looked at the mirror and smiled at how beautiful she looked.
‘’You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.’’ Her mother said, placing her hands on Amma’s shoulder. Amma wiggled in her pink dress and grinned at her image in the mirror.
‘’Your dad would be happy to see you. Let us go and meet him in the living room.’’ Amma’s mother said and finally they joined the rest of the kids dancing to a fast beat music and drinking fresh pineapple juice. Amma remembered how her dad lifted her up as soon as she appeared in the living room. He smiled and said in Twi language, ‘’e re few’’. Amma hugged him and let him drop her when she cut her birthday cake with everyone singing ‘’HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU’’.
The mumbled voices filled her head once again and it felt like she was in the middle of a large crowd of people screaming into her ears. She held her head and bent her head on the wooden slab. Her head ached furiously. The voices in her head are familiar ones, the tone she hears every day. All saying the same thing; you brought this to yourself. She couldn’t even tell anymore if the voices were real or her imaginations. Of course it was her subconscious that was playing a trick on her mind. She had so many junks of thoughts in her mind she was losing the fight against her own sanity.
She winced and opened her eyes abruptly! The class had ended and the lady with the weird smell of strawberry and whiskey had woken Amma up. Amma was surprised she slept through the class, or was it a dream she would call that – memories of old events finding their way back to her mind. The worst part was that she did not want these memories back. She had a pact with them a long time ago never to resurface, so why was this happening?
The seats slammed noisily and soon Amma stood up and joined the rest of the final year students, finding their way to the next class. For the first time in four years, Amma hated Statistics.
Check back next week for more!