THE MIRAGE ( A STORY )

During school

“I do not support the grade point average instituted by the university authorities since it is disincentive to effective leaders with poor academic performance and moreover, who says academic performance positively correlates with effective and competent leadership. I vehemently oppose it. When would student freedom be……..”
“Hey, hey, Bertha. Wait a minute. Breathe in. Just try to relax, okay. I perfectly understand you. But why are so passionate about this issue. I beg to differ, but I am in love with the university’s principle. I mean this is an academic institution, okay. So you see, the issue of academics cannot be ruled out.”
“You are saying this because you are not a victim, right?”
“Listen, eeerm. Anyway, Obrafuor’s latest track with Guru is a hit. I’ve even forgotten the title. And yes, the one called ‘swagger’. I just can’t stand still when I hear those tracks”
“Don’t play smart with me by trying to change the subject?”
“Not at all. I’m just saying something that just came into my mind, you know”
“Kwabena, I know you very well, you are really fond of doing this”
I really enjoy trivializing serious issues with Bertha. I mean, she is the kind of person who says her piece of mind. I appreciate her manner of arguing without being unnecessarily vociferous.
“K, what do you think we should do during this vacation? I’m thinking we should go to an interesting place, have fun and de-stress.”
“I think we should rob somebody”
“I’m really serious, K.”
“Okay. I think we should try a place like my room and explore things”
“Explore what? The rats, cockroaches, and other only God knows what. Stop the joke.”
“Okay. Then how about the Kakum national park or Aburi gardens. You know I’ve never been there before. But Bertha, hmm. I ….. I …..”
“what?”
“Erhmm. You see I bought a lot of books during this semester and participated in a lot of programmes and ate most often at the cafeteria and patronized taxis and ….”
“And I will foot the entire bill. You don’t have to narrate all these concocted stories to me. It’s my initiative so I will finance it, Mr. Frugality.”


Several years later

We’ve now completed our tertiary education with excellence. I’m especially pre-occupied with several pressing issues; getting a well-paying job, a comfortable and ultra-modern apartment, making profitable investments and the lists are just endless. Bertha, on the other hand, is fortunate enough to have everything. Frankly speaking, she has been my financial bedrock and I’m particularly perturbed with this. It makes me feel less man; a shameless, incompetent, parasite. But she has been very supportive and I have always tried in subtle ways to reciprocate her benevolence.

I was in my ramshackled apartment reading one of the Ghanaian newspapers when I heard a stern knock on my door. You know, for the past two months I have not paid my rent so things are not flowing fluently between me and my landlord. But I’ve already rehearsed what to tell him if he comes this time round. So as usual, I wore a sad looking face, walked up to the door, opened it and …………………..
“mashe eyiten”
“kolikoli”
It was Quaye. An old “lai momo” of mine.
“Charlie, come with in. Eeii, long time no see”
“I dey ooo. You don’t ask of me, you don’t call me. K, this one deaaa you no force”
“It not like that. I’m been busy. That’s all. But the other time I flashed you why didn’t you call”
“because I’m not in your closet”
My room was now inundated with laughter. I bet you, Quaye can make you split your jaws. He’s overwhelmingly humorous and gregarious. And lest I forget, a great talkative he is.
“K, you look fresh and sporty. And look at those muscles. You’ve really changed, now you look like a man. But I won’t give you that title unless you prove it. (He took the newspaper and read the headlines). Sure. All of them should be prosecuted. Look at their bellies like a woman pregnant with twins. These public officials are corrupt to the core. All of them should be sent to the prison and allowed only a night in a year to have quality evening devotion with their wives. I mean, no matter the gravity of the crime committed, you shouldn’t deny a man that right. (He continued to talk and talk and talk). Yes, I have this food for thought exclusively for you. By the way, did you do your morning devotion today?”
“Of course. I did.”
“Okay, then tell me yours and I would tell you mine”
“Romans 3.23 says that “For all have sinned and are fallen short of the glory of God”. As humans, the Bible makes us understand that we all sinned and even our righteousness …”
“Is a filthy rag before God. That’s the spiritual aspect. Let me complement it with errrmm something from Chinua Achebe and it goes like these “unless the penis dies young, it would surely eat the bearded meat”
“I don’t quite get it”
“Ooo come on. You are not a small boy. This thing even a kid would understand. Just identify the key words” have a way to getting you aligned to his crazy ideas. As a matter of fact, I got the statement clearly and now, he is looking at me, waiting patiently for me just to pronounce the words. That is his objective. And he knows very well that I’m a bit uncomfortable with those issues.
“Chrife chrife. I know. People like you get bored with the theory of the thing. But when it comes to the practicals, halleluuuuuyah.”
Indisputably, Quaye enjoys cracking jokes around sex and if you don’t know him too well, you would be mistaken when assessing his character and personality. He really made my day. After some hours of jokes, laughter and gossips, I saw him off.


On my way to my house, I decided to give Bertha a call. Since it’s been a while I heard from her. I called several times but she wasn’t picking my call. Maybe she’s busy, I guessed. Some hours later, she called. After exchange of the “how are you’s, how is life treating you’s and others, I decided to disclose my pent-up worries to her.
“Bertha, I appreciate your support and generosity towards me. From school to this moment. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve demonstrated the true essence of friendship to me. I count myself lucky for having a friend like you. But I’m no longer comfortable with that arrangement. I want to feed myself, clothe myself, and have a job. You know, act as a man”
“I understand you, K. But be patient, things would improve”
“when?
“Listen. We can’t discuss this issue on phone. I’ve got to prepare the itinerary and other business documents for my boss, so I’ve got to go. K, be calm, okay. I was pass your place after work”
I’m highly perturbed. Why am I suffering like this when my contemporaries are making it big? If God really cares and supplies our needs, why is He not supplying it now? Or maybe is should be patient, as a Bertha advised. But that’s completely unacceptable. I can’t tolerate the situation anymore. No, no, no, no, things must change. I’m tired of being fed like a toddler. I’ve got to think. Well, she came and we continued with our conversation.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Learn to be patient. Probably, your faith is being tested. You remember the story of Job?”
“But Job was rich before his predicaments started and his story whether imaginary or real doesn’t apply to my situation because I’m already poor and I’m being made poorer and poorer”
“K, take it easy”
“I ca-n-n-‘t take it easy. I can’t continue to wallow in this stinking poverty. You don’t really understand what I’m going through. I’m already experiencing hell. Well, you’ve got a job and things are moving fine with you so how can you really understand my situation. I can’t remain like this anymore. (I just can’t hold my tears but allow it to run on my cheeks.) Just look at me, Bertha. Look at my patched clothes, my sandals, my shoe, my everything – all bearing the trademark of poverty”
“You make me feel bad when you sound like this”
“I’m sorry but look at me. I’m damn sick and tired with my situation”
“And I’m also damn sic-c-k and tired with your behaviour. How can you be so selfish?
Do you think I’m not concerned about your state of affairs? I’m really hurt with your pronouncements. Aaaah, gosh, what makes you think I don’t care?
“It’ not like that. But you see …(before I could complete my statement, her lips is already into mine. Damn, she’s kissing me. I just can’t believe it. I held her neck firmly, look into her dark blue eyes, and started to kiss her roughly. And I could feel my adrenaline releasing reinforcements. Something was telling me “stop, stop, stop” and another one which appears stronger was saying “continue, continue, continue”. Now my heart was beating ‘Gboom’ ‘Gboom’.
“Stop. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have”. Before I could say something, she grabbed her bag and left. But that few minutes really had a therapeutic effect on me. I experienced for a moment heaven on earth; forgot all my troubles, joblessness, etc. it was a wonderful moment. Moreover, I’ve got to know something that Bertha loves me and I love her too.
Within some few months, I got a well-paying job courtesy Bertha. She has accepted my proposal and we’re now in a solid relationship. I’ve now found my bearing; a nice house, a brand new BMW, and whatever I ever desired. We are making preparations for our wedding.
We were shopping in one of the finest malls in Bawku when I noticed this fair sturdy woman staring at us. It made me feel uncomfortable. I looked at her straight in the eyes but she didn’t stop staring. I just decided to ignore her. We are now out of the mall and about to drove off when I remembered an item we forgot to buy. So I went back to the mall. I was settling payment at the counter when this lady approached me.
“Who is that woman to you” she enquired.
“That’s my fiancée. Any problem?” I asked.
But I was surprised at the shock written on the face of the woman as I responded.
“You mean, Amanda is your wife to be?”
“Hey, what’s your problem, woman. By the way, her name is not Amanda, she’s Bertha”.
“This is unbelievable. It can’t be possible. Anyway, take my contact address……. I need to have a serious chat with you concerning your so called fiancée. Please, it is very important.”
I took her address and slipped it into my jacket. Some people are really funny. What at all is her problem? But her non-verbal expressions indicate that she’s really serious about what she’s going to tell me.
“what took you so long”. Bertha asked.
“Well, I had a chat with some woman claiming to know you. But after talking to her, I realized that she mistook you for another person”
I became obsessed with what the lady had to tell me for the several weeks. What’s it about Bertha that I didn’t know? Has Bertha been cheating on me? No, no. she can’t do that. Or is she having a strange disease? Ooooooooohoh, what at all has this lady got to tell me. Well, I took my phone and called her. She gave me directions to her house.
“The last time you said you’ve something to tell me concerning my fiancée, what’s it?”
“Before I can answer your questions, I need to ask you some first. First of all, how long have you known Amanda?”
“I told the other time that she’s not Amanda, her name is Bertha”
“Okay, how long have you known Bertha?”
“For about eight years now”
“Where did you meet her?”
“At school. Listen, I’m not here to be interrogated. You said you want to tell me something and that’s primarily the reason why I’m here. So be fast about it”
“Relax young man”
“Then just tell me woman, I haven’t got the time’
“Do you know of her relatives?”
“She doesn’t have any. They all died in a motor accident and she was the only survivor”
“That’s what she told you, right?”
“Yes”
“Young man. I ….. I kno-o-w the woman you are going to marry”
“and so what? Is that the reason why you called me?”
“I ………….. I … I … mean, I know everything about her”
“Oh yeah. Tell me; like the colour of her pants, the number of pubic hairs in her ampits”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Just shut up and listen to what I’ve got to tell you”
I turned my back to see whether the command was directed to somebody else behind me. I can’t believe she is now being harsh on me.
“Did you tell me to shut up?”
”You are going to marry a ghost”
“You invited me here to …… what did you say?”
“I said you are going to marry a ghost.”
“Oh woman, it is not your fault. I blame myself for honouring the invitation of a psychologically imbalanced being like you”
“Young man, the woman you’re going to marry is my late step-sister who died of cancer ten years ago in the United Kingdom”
”my lady, be careful lest you cross the thin line”
“Excuse me”. She climbed the stairs. She came back holding some documents.
“I will give you the benefit of the doubt but have a look at these documents”
“How are they related to our conversation?”
“Just open it”
It is not possible. No, this can’t be happening. Right in my palms was the obituary of Bertha. I was fidgeting uncontrollably and was speechless. I felt like I was about to faint and with a strong force yelled,
“This can’t be possible. You are playing expensive jokes with me, woman”
“Why do you still not believe her?” That was a response from behind me. The voice was familiar and it is the voice that has kept me company and offered me comfort for the past eight years. The voice that sings lullabies for me, encourages me, jokes with me and everything. It was Bertha’s voice!

I WOKE UP AND REALIZED THAT IT WAS ALL A DREAM.

ernest armah
university of Ghana
0277246658