Chapter Three
654 Words
Hunger Enters the Home
The house in Boame Village had never felt this empty before.
Since the death of Agya Oppong, everything had changed.
The laughter was gone.
The warmth was gone.
And slowly… even food was disappearing.
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Three days after the funeral, the little food they had left was finished.
That morning, Afia woke up to a strange silence.
No sound of her mother cooking.
No smell of porridge.
Nothing.
She sat up slowly and looked around.
Ama and Adwoa were still lying on the mat, their eyes open but weak. Kofi sat quietly beside them, sucking his thumb, his face unusually dull.
“Ma?” Afia called softly.
Pomaa sat in the corner of the room, her back against the wall, staring into nothing.
Her eyes were swollen.
She hadn’t slept.
She hadn’t eaten.
She hadn’t spoken much since the burial.
Afia stood up and walked closer.
“Ma… what are we going to eat?” she asked gently.
Pomaa didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she lowered her head, her lips trembling.
“There is no food, Afia…” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The words hit Afia like a heavy stone.
No food.
Nothing at all.
---
Just then, Ama spoke weakly.
“Sister… I’m hungry…”
Adwoa followed, her voice shaky. “Me too…”
Kofi began to cry softly.
Afia felt her chest tighten.
She turned and looked at her siblings—their small, helpless faces filled with hunger.
At that moment, something inside her shifted.
She could not just sit and watch.
---
“I will find something,” Afia said suddenly.
Pomaa looked up quickly. “Find? Where?”
Afia swallowed hard.
“I don’t know… but I will try.”
Before her mother could stop her, Afia stepped out of the house.
---
The village looked the same.
But to Afia… everything felt different.
People moved about their day, carrying loads, selling goods, talking and laughing.
Meanwhile, her family had nothing.
She walked slowly through the dusty paths, her heart pounding.
She didn’t even know where she was going.
All she knew was one thing—
Her siblings were hungry.
---
Afia reached the market area.
Women were selling tomatoes, cassava, pepper, and smoked fish. The smell of food filled the air, making her stomach twist painfully.
She stood there, watching.
Hoping.
But no one noticed her.
No one knew she hadn’t eaten.
No one knew her family was starving.
---
She gathered courage and approached one woman.
“Ma… please…” she said softly. “Can I help you carry something… so you can give me a little food?”
The woman looked at her briefly.
Then shook her head.
“I have my own children to feed,” she replied and turned away.
Afia stepped back.
Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to cry.
Not now.
---
She moved to another stall.
And another.
And another.
Each time, the answer was the same.
No.
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The sun grew hotter.
Her legs became weak.
Her throat dry.
But Afia kept walking.
Because going back home empty-handed…
Was not an option.
---
Finally, she reached the edge of the market and sat under a tree.
For the first time, tears rolled down her face.
“I don’t know what to do, Papa…” she whispered.
The wind blew gently, as if carrying her pain into the distance.
---
Back at home, her siblings were still waiting.
Still hungry.
Still hoping.
---
Afia wiped her tears.
Slowly, she stood up.
Her eyes changed.
They were no longer the eyes of a child.
They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much… too soon.
“I will not give up,” she said quietly.
“I can’t.”
And with that, Afia took a step forward—
Into a world that would test her strength…
Her courage…
And her heart.
- Writer
