The Kayayei’s Tale
Photo credit: NewsGhana I walk my beat in cities, markets– under a perspiring sun. From Tamale to Kejetia , Techiman to Takoradi– Accra my home base: Nima, Mallam Atta, Agbogbloshie , Makola – I am there. Head pan in hand, I tread markets and bus stations. From six to six–rain or shine– I carry other people’s loads. They walk behind me, watching, anxious, while I shout and nudge through the crowds, lest I be lost with their goods. And when I arrive– they begrudge me my wage. — Foxes have holes. Birds have nests. But I– a daughter, a mother– have none. I sleep in borrowed spaces, where weary pillows give no rest, and sleep escapes me. I am prey to mosquitoes and other blood-sucking creatures. Unscrupulous men lurk in the dark to plunder both my purse and womanhood, and leave me a mother with double load. — Shop-owners scowl at me. Drivers curse. Shoppers call me what they please– until they need my head to carry what they will...