I thought I was a normal child until my parents got transferred to another town in the Greater Accra Region. When the news of the transfer broke, my family was scared we would be transferred out of the Region, so remaining in the capital Region came as a joy. Our new location was not as developed as where we lived previously but we could always drive into the bigger towns for what we needed. Obviously, my siblings and I needed to change school. We were unhappy about this development but there was little we could do. The first day in school was as expected; I was quiet because I knew no one in the class, teachers asked my name when they walked in and everyone stared at me. I knew it won’t be long for the new- comer tag to come so I had psyched my mind to endure it.
What I didn’t know was that, the students and some of the teachers saw me as an abnormal child so the stares and new- comer tag was going to last longer than usual. During children service class at our new church, the teachers and students stared at my brother and me too. We still assumed it was normal and would cease when they got used to seeing us around.
And like it is with every gossip scenario, one person gathered the courage to either confirm or find out more detail about the gossip to report to the gossip caucus, maybe. In this case it was a lady whom we later found out to be called Amma who came forward.
After church, she walked up with an infectious smile to my mother and us. As we had been taught to do, we also smiled and said a hearty good morning to the lady. “My name is Amma and I am a teacher at the basic school and I teach the teen class at children’s service. Did you just join this church?
“Yes. My husband works with the GCB and was recently transferred here so the family relocated with him. My name is Adwoa. These are my children, Kate and Carl. I had Kate after I lost Carol tragically”. With another broad smile, Amma asked how old I was and I mentioned my age, “11 years old”. She seemed to be shocked by my answer and raised her head to look at my mum. She said that my mother must be a very strong woman to endure all these atrocities. We all wondered what atrocity the smiley -woman was talking about aside the death of Carol. Then she decided it was time to solve the puzzle. She spoke undertone this time. “Aunt Adwoa, you have lost a child and you did not mark Kate’s face to keep that evil from befalling you again? She is also left- handed and she wears a brazier at her age?” She continued, “Do you know about breast ironing? Do you know about tribal marks? Do you know that it is unacceptable to be a southpaw?”
The breasts of girls are usually pounded with sticks or stone in breast ironing
“Eii” my mother shouted. At this rate, she knew the woman had overstayed her welcome. She told Amma that they could continue this conversation later because she was had some work to do at home. The unrelenting lady did not have any problem with that but said she knew our house so she will pass on Tuesday to educate my mother on what she needed to do to keep her children protected. I think my mother was overly surprised to decline the offer.
In school the next day, I noticed that all the girls did not put on bras and there were girls whose breasts were much bigger than mine. Even though I wondered why they did, I dared not ask. I noticed also that no one wrote with their left hand even though they made gestures with their left hand which showed they were left handed. I took the pencil off my left hand and put it in my right hand, but I struggled; my letters were not straight and I wrote very slowly. I went back to use my left hand. Some children had marks on their faces too.
I am abnormal, I began to think. I tried to use my right hand and be like everyone else in that regard, at least. I was also looking forward to Tuesday to hear Aunt Amma’s lecture on me. I think my mother was anxious too because on our way to school on Tuesday morning, she asked Carl and I when Amma said she was going to come to the house. Guess what; we got back to see her sitting on our compound chatting with the day’s watchman. She was dressed as one who was from work herself. Clearly she had not been home yet. I could tell that my mother was frightened. She was ushered to the porch after I was sacked to go indoors. I was angry because I wanted to know what Amma had to say. After about 30mins, mum laughed hysterically and I heard Amma warn her not to laugh because these things are real.
After our guest left, my mother came to brief me on the meeting; she had noticed my discomfort or fright rather;
Amma and the women who are concerned about us want me to iron your breast. She thinks that you should not wear a bra at your age. So if I pound or iron the pubescent of your breast with a hard or heated object; the growth of your breast will slow down or will disappear. If I do this, I will be protecting you from sexual harassment and rape because some men think that girls with breast are ready for sex.If you are allured into sex, if not raped, you will get pregnant and tarnish our family image.
A stone and a stick used in breast ironing
She also spoke about you being a southpaw before I explained to her that your grandfather was a southpaw and so was your great grandmother, Amma reminded me that:
It most parts of Africa which includes Ghana, the left hand is traditionally known as the hand that is used to wipe the butt after visiting the ladies. So, it is culturally wrong and disrespectful to use the left hand for anything else apart from that – cleaning the butt; you shouldn’t give or receive anything with your left hand, you can’t eat with it, write with it or wave with it.
Then she also spoke about the tribal mark;
When you lose a child or children, the child that comes after that child (ren) should be marked for protection. This marking keeps the baby in the land of the living by making it ugly to the Ancestors. Amma thinks I am lucky to have you alive without any form of protection but I should have your face marked immediately.
A baby with scars from tribal marks
All I could say after my mother’s recap was to ask if she was going to have me go through all these “correctional features”. She smiled and said that she thinks that I am absolutely normal and would not need any of them. She lost Carol because she was administered with an overdose of an antibiotic so her death could not be linked to me. Your breast tissue could be destroyed if I ironed your breast. I think on the issue of rape and sexual matters, I am still educating you on that so you wouldn’t need an ironing to put you on track.
About the left hand, since we find ourselves in a society that does not allow us to receive or give out anything with that hand, I think you should comply with it. I think you have enough issues dealing with the way books and desks made only for only right- handed people. I won’t bother you by asking you to change it. You can use it to eat and write and others, you or I cannot change that; you were created that way.
So with that, I relaxed because I am normal regardless of what society thinks of me. From this, I learnt a lesson for life: Ask questions, have a listening ear, find answers and don’t disregard tradition- there are reasons some things are done.
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