CHAPTER 15 | 1971 | IRENE V. O. SOWAH !

            WITH BIRTH COMES CHAOS. With new beginnings comes disorder. And if there was one thing Irene Vivian Sowah knew about her parents — it was that they ran at the first sight of it. Her family's presence in the country that held their people captive, bastardised them and traded them was a testament to that. At eleven years old, Irene knew her parents were cowards.

And when a coward has seemingly unlimited wealth, what is the most obvious thing they do? Run. Run to wherever they please.

Irene and her parents had lived all over Ghana, from the dry, dusty north with its nipping winds to the cool, vibrant coast in the south. Out of all five regions, her family had lived in four (they had yet to live in the Volta Region) — and moved around each region at least thrice. Her favourite place they had lived in was Accra; it was her family's hometown after all. They had lived there for two years, and just as she had settled into their new home, made friends, found herself enjoying a place without worry of where they would be moving to next — she was given a sharp, cutting reminder.

Her parents are cowards.

They ran. And they ran further than they ever had before. It wasn't just moving over to the next region anymore. No, it was out of the country, out of the continent — and straight into the cold, cold land of England.

She hated it. She did.

Even during summer, it felt too cold. None of the girls here knew how to play ampe and none of them were interested in her retellings of her grandmother's stories about Anansi. Whenever she invited someone home, she couldn't eat food she wanted to eat like Kenkey, fish and shito. No, she had to ask her mother to make potatoes and gravy for them.

(She'd never forget the disgusted sneer and mocking laugh that left that blonde girl's lips after she had tasted the meal Irene's mother had prepared for them.)

The boys would poke at her hair, pull it out purely to see it spring back into its tight coil. They would poke at her bum and laugh at how it filled out their school's skirt. They would snicker at the accented lilt of her words.

She hated it all. She hated them all.

But two years gone by, like she always did, she settled and adapted to her new surroundings. She kept herself bundled up during summer to remain at a temperature she was comfortable with, she found other Ghanaian girls to play ampe and eat Kenkey with (even if they lived further away in the poorer parts of their province), she began to write down her Grandmother's stories so she may never forget them, and she began to poke back at the boys, slapping their hands away and mocking their childish ways until they left her alone.

She wasn't happy and she wasn't comfortable, but she was alive and she was grateful for that. Perhaps her family wouldn't be if they had stayed in Ghana.

"Okaikor!", came the boom of her father's voice, snapping her out of her train of thought. Even if he hadn't used her Ga name (which her mother only used occasionally), Irene would be able to identify his call in a crowd. He had a peculiar tone — booming but still somewhat smooth. She paused writing halfway through a word about Anansi's latest adventure turned mishap and rolled off the side of her bed to rush down the stairs.

"Yes, Daddy?", she called back as she rushed towards the sound of his voice. It took her a while to find him, what with all the rooms in her house. She checked his office first, then her parent's bedroom, then the upstairs living room before peeking down the mezzanine and seeing both her parents standing in their foyer with an unfamiliar woman.

Irene approached them hesitantly, confused at her parent's stance — they stood huddled together and were almost leaning back on their heels to put as much distance between the woman and them as politely possible. "This woman wishes to meet you", came her mother's voice, hushed and unlike its usual nipping tone.

Irene looked at the woman properly for the first time, put into a daze almost immediately. She'd never seen someone who looked like her before. She was tall and curvaceous, her face modelesque and her eyes piercing and upturned. Her long thick locs were pinned up in a half-down half-up style by silver and gold rings with clay beads wrapped around them randomly. Her nose had multiple arching gold rings pierced into them and two tribal marks sat upon her high cheekbones. At recognising them, Irene almost gasped.

She was Ghanaian. Most likely Hausa, if the markings were anything to go by. Irene couldn't be sure. Their time in the north had been short but she remembered seeing similar marks on the faces of her classmates.

"Okaikor", came the woman's smooth tone, "My name is Professor Fai'zah Dambe and I am interested in having you as a pupil in my school".

Irene blinked at her. The woman merely smiled before stepping further into their home, her long white dress billowing behind her and her beads clinking as she did.

It was clear she intended for them to follow her. They did.

She took her time walking and walking through the house's winding halls before arriving at their dining table, "May we sit down together?". Her parents seemed a little stunned but hastily nodded, drawing out chairs for themselves. Irene followed suit.

"Okaikor", the woman said her name again to draw her attention. Irene wasn't quite sure how to address her — whether to call her Mama or Auntie or Ms. or Mrs. She couldn't be older than thirty. "I have already spoken with your parents before you were called down, but I hope for you to answer my questions truthfully, is that alright?".

"Yes, please", her tongue slipped back into the familiar Ghanaian phrase. No one really used "please" at the ends of their sentences to denote respect in England like they did in Ghana.

"You can do special things, can't you?"

Irene froze. She knew the answer. She'd always been able to do weird, unnatural things — she'd touch dying flowers when she was younger and watch life spring back into their petals, she would often make the clay oware balls lift into her house when playing with her father and when lazy at night, she preferred to light a candle with a flick of her wrist.

"Well ... they are more weird than special, Mama", Irene responded, sheepish.

The woman clicked her tongue, "I beg to differ, child. You have magic within you, strong magic and it needs to be trained for you to harness your full potential".

Irene looked over at her parents — they were scared. They'd always known what she could do but always avoided it, turned their eyes away and hoped for the best.

"You are not the only one who has magic within you. There's a whole world of people like us hidden in plain sight. There are multiple schools for teaching magic all over the world — like the one I wish to invite you to".

"Is it in England?", came her mother's shaky voice.

"No, it is where you ran from", the woman smiled directly at her. Her mother looked ready to faint.

"Ghana?", came Irene's excited voice. Her father gave her a stern look and she quickly reigned it in.

"Yes, the exact location is confidential but it is in Ghana. In the north, where I too come from", she said plainly. Oh, Irene was right then. She was Hausa.

"The school is named the Uagadou School of Magic, and has an enviable reputation worldwide. It is the oldest in the world, even older than the school here, despite what most would tell you", the woman seemed amused at the last part of the sentence, "I am a Professor there, I teach Alchemy. We believe that learning should have no predetermined end and allow students and acolytes to reside there and study until they wish to leave".

All of that sounded quite lovely but Irene had a question, "You mentioned there's a school here, why didn't a professor from there come for me since I live here now?".

"Well, child, you've been registered in our books since your birth. The school allows for students from all over Africa to attend — even if there are hundreds of schools and centers scattered all over the continent. You were born in Ghana so it is customary for you to attend school there. However, your family relocated here and I am in no business of uprooting an entire family needlessly".

"You have two choices — you can choose to return to Ghana with me for schooling in Uagadou where I will ensure that you will be taken care of or I can contact a professor from Hogwarts and have a transfer arranged. Seeing as you do not have magical parents, I would still help you prepare for the upcoming school year and stay in touch with you afterwards if you so wish".

"I understand that this is a lot to take in at once, so I will leave you and return within the next two weeks with letters from Hogwarts and Uagadou. Whichever one you pick, I will guide you there".

"Listen, Miss—", her father began before she cut him off.

"Professor is my title", she said cooly, "Why, is it my age that makes you disregard it?".

"No ... no, I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect", her father quickly backtracked, "How do we know this school is even real? You've told us a lot of information but not shown us anything magical or a picture of the school or a brochure—"

"Is your daughter not enough evidence that magic is real?", the professor asked and her father's mouth gaped before he clamped it shut.

"Do you have any questions?", the query was directed at her mother. Rapidly, she shook her head.

"I will return within the next two weeks, like I said, with letters from both schools. By then, Okaifor, I'd recommend that you have made your choice", the woman stood and turned to leave.

"Wait, Mama!", came Irene's call as she scrambled after her. The woman turned around. Irene was nervous now that the woman's sharp stare was directed at her.

"Before you leave... could — could you do something magical? For me to see? Please?", came her young voice.

Professor Fai'zah smiled.

With the pointer finger of her right hand pointed and her left held up for her audience to see, she drew a glowing gold symbol onto her hand. It looked like an Adinkra symbol — the Ananse Ntentan. Anansi's web. She sealed the drawing with her thumb before peeling it off her hand to reveal a complex, crystalline spider web the size of her palm. Irene gasped before Professor Fai'zah said, "It's glass, but will not bear damage or scratches. I hope you'll take it as a gift from me to you".

Irene walked towards her in wonder and took the beauty into her chubby little hands, "Thank you, Mama".

"Of course, my child", she smiled down at her before crouching down to her height, " I will leave you now". She caressed the top of Irene's cornrows and Irene smiled at the comforting feeling, "Help your parents warm up to the idea, will you?".

Irene smiled giddily and nodded. "Goodbye, Okaikor", she said. "Goodbye, Mama", Irene replied.

With that, Professor Fai'zah was gone.

Irene turned to her parents, doe eyes bright and hopeful. "Don't even think about it, Irene", her mother said immediately. Irene's smile dropped.

"But Ma, why? This is great! I can learn how to use the gifts that I've been given and how to control it and Professor Fai'zah would be there to take care of me—"

"You will not return to Ghana!", her father's voice boomed.

"We don't know this woman, that web she 'made' could have been bought hours before even arriving here, and most importantly, you know why we left Ghana. Or have you forgotten so soon? Why would you want to go back?"

For familiarity. To learn. To feel whole. Irene said none of these things.

"Everyone knows why we left, Irene. Everyone. What if your classmates know? What if they find out? How will you be treated by them and your teachers if they find out? It's too much all at once, my love. We can't let you go back there", her mother stated easily.

Tears welled in Irene's eyes but she refused to let them fall or wipe them away, even if Professor Fai'zah had said the web would not bear damage, she still wanted to treat it with care.

"I just... I just want to learn, Ma", she said, looking up at both her parents, "I just want to be useful and be in a place where I can fit in and not stick out so easily".

With those words, she bid them goodbye and rushed back to her bedroom, carefully placing the web on her nightstand before flopping onto her bed. There, she allowed the tears to fall on her pillow.

How could her father even say such a thing? Insinuate that she could've possibly forgotten the most traumatising event of her young life?

She remembered it all.

The crowd of people outside of their home's gates, holding cutlasses and molotov cocktails demanding to know why her parents had not lifted a single finger to help in the fight for their country's independence despite their innumerable wealth. Demanding to know why her father had often taken on the oppressors as clients in legal battles. Demanding to know why her mother had taken on news stories that were pro-British rule.

Demanding punishment.

The fire burned bright, and it took a lot of their possessions with it. The scandal of it all burned ever brighter on the newly-established national newspapers.

AFFLUENT LAWYER AND CELEBRITY NEWSCASTER FLEE COUNTRY WITH DAUGHTER AFTER ANGRY MOB DEMANDS TO KNOW WHY THEY WERE PRO-BRITISH RULE

They had left the very next morning, and Irene had not seen Ghanaian soil nor breathed Ghanaian air ever since.

How dare he insinuate she could ever forget?

She looked over at the web Professor Fai'zah had gifted her. This was her chance to become someone new in an environment both familiar and unfamiliar. This was her chance to grow as a person in a place with people like her. This was a chance for her to be comfortable.

And they wanted to take that away from her.

She looked over at the book she had been writing in before being called downstairs and closed it, knowing if she wrote anything more, the book would be soiled in tears. Irene moved both the book and her gift to the desk beside her bed and curled into a ball beneath her comforter.

Sleep came to her quickly as night fell. In her parent's bedroom, they too were laying beneath their comforter but their minds were not nearly as rested as their daughter's.

"Ankama", was Okaile's soft call to her husband. He turned over to her in surprise — she hadn't called him Ankama in years, preferring to use his Christian name.

"Okaile, my love", he responded and caressed her face. She leaned into his touch.

"She will be haunted by our mistakes if she goes back there, you know she will", she said plainly, her mind's eye tracing over flashes of memories. "She also needs to learn how to control her ... gifts. We've always known she wasn't an ordinary child. Always. But we chose to ignore it".

Ankama hummed in thought and agreement. "I think we might have to let her go".

Okaile damn near jumped out of her skin. "Love, love, relax. Not to Uagadou, but to the school here. Hog ... Hog-something, the professor said", Ankama compromised.

"That way, she can learn how to control her ... her magic but also have a clean slate to become who she wants to. She wouldn't be the daughter of traitors; she would be Irene or Vivian or Okaikor or whichever name she wants to be called — and develop herself into who she wants to be. She deserves that much, at least. We've failed her in many ways, my love", he caressed her cheek with his thumb, eyes glinting with regret, "Let's not fail her again".

Okaile sighed and closed her eyes. They'd think this over in the morning.

Irene was not pleased with their decision.

"Daddy, Ma, please, let me go back! Please, please, please!", and its variations became a constant sound around their home over the next week. It had basically become part of the furniture.

But a week gone by, Irene began to warm up to the idea, seeing the merit of having a clean slate to build upon — one she realised she would never really have in Ghana. The realization had upset her and she had been quiet — very quiet — for many days as she processed this. Once she began to accept it, she grew excited; trying to decide which of her names she wanted to be called, writing more and more of her Grandmother's stories and even making up some of her own (all of them featuring the gift Professor Fai'zah had given her prominently).

When the doorbell rang exactly two weeks after Professor Fai'zah's first visit, Irene was beyond excited. She bounded down the stairs, almost tripping her way down to a nasty injury and yanking the door open. Thankfully, she was met with the sight she had dreamed of for the past few weeks.

Professor Fai'zah with two letters in her hands. "Which one do you choose, my child?".

Irene did not hesitate, "Hogwarts, Mama".

Professor Fai'zah smiled and handed over her letter, "Wonderful, I have some business with the headmaster to attend to. Like I said, we will prepare for school and go there together".

Irene beamed. "And what about my second invitation, Okaikor?".

Irene cocked her head to the side, confused. "About staying in touch afterwards, if you so wish?"

"I would love to, Mama", Irene smiled and rushed forward to hug the young professor around the middle.

She stood there stunned for a second before adjusting herself to crouch down to Irene's height and hug her properly, rubbing her back as she did so.

Irene smiled, content.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE!

i'm sure you noticed a lot of the words were italicised, i did that because they aren't english words and i wanted to include a pronunciation guide and glossary at the end of the chapter.

Okaikor — Pronounced "O-kai-koh"

Fai'zah Dambe — Pronounced "Fai-zah Dam-bey"

Ankama — Pronounced "An-kah-ma"

Okaile — Pronounced "O-kai-ley"

Ampe — Simple clapping and jumpinh game played by school-children in Ghana. It is said to have originated from the Ashanti Region of Ghana around two hundred years ago. Pronounced "am-pey"

Anansi — The crafty spider prominent in Ghanaian (and African, as a whole) folklore. Also spelled Ananse.

Kenkey — Ground corn mixture formed into a single-serving ball. Originates from the Ga people of Southern Ghana. Eaten with pepper and fish, soup or stew.

Shito — Hot, black pepper sauce made of dried fish and prawns, onions, chilli, garlic and chosen spices. Original recipe made by the Ga people of Southern Ghana. Eaten with a variety of dishes.

Ga (People) — The tribe native to the Greater-Accra region of Ghana.

Oware — Strategy game played with an Oware board and 48 seeds. A typical oware board has two straight rows of six pits, called "houses", and optionally one large "score" house at each end. Pronounced "O-wah-ri"

Adinkra Symbols — Visual symbols with historical and philosophical significance originally printed on cloth which royals wore to important ceremonies. They originate from Akan culture and serve as shorthand for communicating through art. Pronounced "Ay-deen-krah"

Ananse Ntentan — Translates to "Spider's Web". The Adinkra symbol that represents wisdom, craftiness, creativity and the complexities of life. It is the web of Anansi. Pronounced "A-nan-si In-ten-tan"

i changed uagadou being located in uganda to being located in ghana. and what of it? GOD BLESS OUR HOMELAND GHANA AND MAKE OUR NATION GREAT AND STRONG‼️😋 🇬🇭 

also, gorgeous gorgeous header gif by