Chapter Four
683 Words
The House of Auntie Esi
One year had passed in Boame Village.
One long, painful year.
Afia was no longer the same girl who cried under the tree at the market. Life had hardened her in ways no child should ever experience.
She was now twelve.
Survival had become her daily routine.
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Every morning before the sun rose, Afia woke up quietly, careful not to disturb her siblings. Ama, Adwoa, and Kofi still depended on her… even more now.
Their mother, Pomaa, had grown weaker with time. Grief had taken away her strength, leaving Afia as the one holding everything together.
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Afia had found a way to survive.
She worked for a woman in the village—Auntie Esi.
Auntie Esi was a widow known in the village for her strict nature and sharp tongue. Though she lived alone, she was not poor. Her children—grown daughters—worked in the big city, Accra, and sent her money regularly.
And more importantly…
She had a rich younger brother.
A man people often spoke about with admiration.
He owned a big movie industry and a clothing boutique in Accra—someone powerful, someone respected.
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But none of that kindness reached Afia.
To Auntie Esi, Afia was just a poor village girl.
Someone to send around.
Someone to command.
Someone to remind of her place.
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Still, Afia endured it all.
Because at the end of each long day, she was given leftover food to take home.
And that food… kept her family alive.
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That Wednesday morning, Afia woke up earlier than usual.
The air was cool, and the sky was still dark.
She quickly tied her clothes around her waist and stepped outside.
Today was important.
Auntie Esi’s rich brother was coming to visit from Accra.
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Afia knew what that meant.
More work.
More shouting.
More pressure.
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By the time she reached Auntie Esi’s house, the compound was already busy.
“Afia! Where have you been?” Auntie Esi’s voice cut through the air sharply.
“I’m sorry, Ma… I came as fast as I could,” Afia replied, slightly out of breath.
“Sorry doesn’t cook food!” Auntie Esi snapped. “Go and fetch water! Sweep the compound! Clean the kitchen! Everything must shine today!”
“Yes, Ma…” Afia said softly.
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The work was endless.
She fetched heavy buckets of water.
Swept the compound until dust filled her nose.
Scrubbed pots until her fingers hurt.
But no matter how hard she worked—
It was never enough.
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“Useless girl!” Auntie Esi shouted at one point. “Can’t you do anything properly?”
Afia lowered her head.
“I’m sorry, Ma…”
“Sorry! Sorry! That is all you know!” Auntie Esi hissed. “If not for pity, you wouldn’t even be here!”
Those words pierced deep.
But Afia said nothing.
She had learned something over the past year—
Silence was sometimes the only way to survive.
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By midday, everything was ready.
The house was spotless.
Food was cooking.
The air carried the smell of rich stew and spices—food Afia knew she might never taste.
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Then—
A car horn sounded from outside.
Auntie Esi quickly adjusted her cloth, her face suddenly full of smiles.
“He is here!” she said excitedly.
Afia stood quietly at the corner, her hands still wet from washing.
She watched as a shiny car pulled into the compound.
A man stepped out.
Well-dressed.
Confident.
Different.
It was very different from anyone Afia had ever seen in the village.
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This was the man from Accra.
The rich brother.
The man with power.
The man whose life was far from hunger… far from pain.
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As he walked into the compound, his eyes moved around slowly.
Then…
For a brief moment—
They landed on Afia.
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Afia quickly looked down.
But something about that look…
Felt like the beginning of something new.
Something unknown.
Something that could either change her life…
Or break it completely.
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- Writer
