My childhood recollections are distinctly unusual. I spent my early years in Fomena, and prior to commencing formal education, my mother relocated to the capital city following her marriage to my father. Notably, my upbringing was characterized by a nurturing maternal presence, and my father’s paternal affection was unwavering, with no indication of ambiguity regarding my paternity. He has always been my father and nothing else.

But something intriguing happens that makes me question how much connection I had with this union.
Most often we hug as a family, when departing from home or separating from each other.
I mostly see my parents hug my younger sibling with so much love. As though a close union no one should come close to. Like the infinity symbol. But my hugs on the other hand were just less affectionate and hurried.
When I noticed this , I was angry and said to myself I wish I stayed small like Zoe so that I can get all the love she enjoys.
This lingered on my mind for years as though like a portrait. Anytime I had to second guess what this meant, I nudge myself out of it and shrug it off.

Recently, after I turned 16 I told my parents my birthday wish was to celebrate my holiday at my Aunt’s.
I had a plan. I wanted the perfect getaway to speak to my favourite cousin about how I felt. Abena was 6 years older than I was, So I was certain she might have heard something.
I left my parents with our hug when my Aunt and cousins came to pick me up
I promised to return with so much gifts for my Sister Zoe, because Granny Cecilia was returning from Germany for the holidays.
The excitement on my face was beyond the thoughts of Christmas but a deep sense of discovery.

We arrived at my Aunt’s to a full house of visitors eating fufu and shouting out of excitement. A typical Sunday in a Ghanaian home with the joy of Christmas and nostalgic memories of people uniting after a long time. My two cousins and I took off to hug our Granny and she was excited to see us after 3 years of not returning. Her favorite line was ” Thank you Lord for my many blessings ” anytime we speak with her or she sees any of her grandchildren. My Granny!, She loved us all and we adore her.

A man seated across the table who I thought was dozzing off or probably tipsy murmured ” Whose is the 3rd?” My granny responded by saying this is Dufie’s 1st child. Then instantly he sat up in his chair and said Eiiii blood!, Hmmm this child’s resemblance to Ebo is uncanny!.

I heard my Aunty turned towards us walking into the gathering very furious shouting at the three of us to go into the kitchen for our dinner. The scene felt heavy and uncomfortable. We stared at each other confused about her outburst and left. We heard the elders talking but didn’t know what the short argument was about.

We went away, but this moment brought me closer to my missing piece. My father’s name is George Yeboah
, I am Lily Yeboah and my sister Zoe Yeboah . Who then is Ebo? , I muttered. I waited few days after my arrival at my Aunt’s home to engage my cousin in a hearty chit chat but she appeared to be clueless about the whole conversation while avoiding eye contact with me.
I gave up on my search and enjoyed my holidays with family until it was time to return home. I was missing Zoe, and wanted to send her the items I’d packed for her. I returned to my normalty and life went on.
I lived with this uncertainty until years later when we bumped into the same Man from my Aunt’s house at the shopping mall. I recognised him instantly and prompted my mother . She Shouted Uncle Fii and went off to hug him. They exchanged the warmest pleasantries and he said it again pointing at me with the words , “This your child favors Ebo too much !. My mother smiled shyly and responded saying ” We both know Lily Abena Yeboah is my twin.
and said goodbye. I never questioned my mother about that man but I wondered why his words made Mum uncomfortable.

On my 24th birthday while I was in college my mother called me , I asked her to pray for me as she always does because it was like a family tradition. Right after the prayers, I asked of my father and she informed me he was out to send me my birthday present. I knew the moment was here. My heart was thundering so fast in my chest .
Mummy, I said faintly.
My mother responded with her usual excitement.
Yes Lily my love
I have a birthday wish.
She laughed it off sarcastically by responding “What else do you want after all the list you sent to your father and I?
I responded to her saying one that can change my life forever. And instantly I asked her almost through a stutter who is Ebo.?

She struggled to speak and then hanged up instantly . I called back and she didn’t answer. She sent a text ” My Dear Lily I will always love you.
I responded I love you Mum but please tell me .
She called back later that day and wanted to know how I got to find out? , I told her about my little suspicions and the moments that led to the discovery. How I carried the confusion over the years and waited patiently for the right moment. She promised to visit me in School.
and I had to wait for 6 days for her arrival, it was the hardest 6 days of my life. I remembered how she held on tightly in her car , while she candidly shared her story . Several years back when my Grandfather passed after a short illness , my Grandmother had the opportunity to travel to Europe for greener pastures, she left my mother and her siblings in the care of a relative, my biological father , with his parents were tenants in the same Compound as my Mum and her siblings. That was where the rape that led to my birth happened. She pleaded with me not to mention it to my dad, Mr. George Yeboah, saying it would sound ungrateful and might break his heart since he had accepted me as his own.

I had mixed emotions about this news. But I was almost content . This best explained to me why my father Mr George was 19 years older than my mother.

It had been 5 weeks since my mother’s visit when I left school and headed to Fomena, looking for answers. I confided in my Aunt Esi and my cousins, and they supported me throughout .

Sadly, I received some tough news in the village. Ebo, my biological father whom my mother and her family had lost touch with, had passed away 9 years ago due to cancer. He wasn’t there when I arrived.

I met his mother, who showed me his grave. She looked strikingly like me . Before meeting her, I’d always thought I was my mother’s twin . But it turns out I had her mannerisms too; I spoke softly like her and walked with a slight lean to my left, just like she did. Hmm when you hear a ghana saying blood is thicker than water.

At the graveyard, she broke down in tears, repeating “Ebo, your child is here, Ebo, your child is here ooo” She continued, “You always said she’d come one day, and you’d ask for forgiveness, She’s here now, so go ahead and apologise. My child, my own forgive us , forgive your father, forgive me he carried the gyilt to his grave ,please liberate him .Her words got to me, softening my heart .

I left the cemetery feeling oddly complete, like every moment had led me to this missing piece. I wasn’t grieving his loss as much as I felt a tinge of regret for never getting to meet him .

I have learnt to nurse my wounds. I carry the secret of my mother’s past with grace, and I’m even more grateful to Mr. George. As for my mother, I’d say she’s just looking out for her own, like a protective hen from predators.
This is a new identity and I can only live with it . A chicken that goes out searching the dumpster will end up digging the bones of the grandmother.