Visa

Getting a visa is hard and expensive. Travelling is another story altogether. I used to wonder why everyone travelled and I didn’t.

I remember, no disrespect to the to-be-mentioned country but, my uncle from… from where I come from was travelling and we were all excited because he had really come through a ‘story’ to get his visa and the best part was how he’d made promises to us about how he would buy us this and that. You should’ve seen me with my Eastbay and Argos magazines. You dare not lend me yours if you couldn’t stand it being perforated. I had to get as much details on the stuff I wanted.

Sometimes, it’s really really good to have your hope deflated early but the way in which this one happened was something else. To end the story, my unlce was going to Denmark and a bus of his cousins, aunties, teachers, town elders, church choir, priests, neighbours, clan representatives and then another, an ovan actually of his 2 wives and 16 children and wives brothers ensued. That was his escort to the airport and then my collage of Eastbay trainers and Argos toys and watches just found it’s way back in my mum’s car. The end

Years later, I was talking to my mum about travelling and she brushed it aside so I asked her what she would do if I had a serious disease. She answered hospital almost simultaneously. I knew her attention wasn’t there so to get it, I said, so what if it was some cancer that had to be removed in London? At this point, I knew I had her attention because cancer is scary and every mother would tell you something nice like we’ll sell stuff and send you there for good treatment.

I know my mother loves me but since we’re in Ghana. This is what she said.

“Are you mad? Where from cancer? We’ll send you to Aponkyi clinic, if it doesn’t work, you can go and replace uncle Kofi in the… where I come from… besides, you might infect us all with it. Selfish brut. In any case, I have 3 sons.”

So then, I decided, ahiaa give flying L.