A young boy, tall and lean, sat on the couch in the
television room and carefully laced and tied each of his new tennis shoes
before squeezing through the small window and stepping out onto the green tin
awning that overlooked Market Street. He stood with both hands shielding the
sunlight from his eyes.
“Darko! Be careful” his mother called out, “you know I don’t
like it when you’re out there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m being very careful,” he called back to
her.
This is where he stood every afternoon after school. From
there, he could look out over Market Street in downtown Kumasi, which was
always bustling with people. Just past Market Street, across from his father’s
store, there was a long, sloping pasture with a trio of Mahoghany trees
providing ample shade for two boys relaxing next to the truck.
“Ma?”
“Yes, Darko?”
“May I go to the Mahogany Pasture? Ibrahim and Kwame are
there waiting for me.”
“Why not invite them here. You can watch television.”
“I want to go outside. I want to enjoy the world.”
“Only if you promise to be back here in an hour.”
“Alright,” said Darko.
“…and don’t…”
Darko turned about and slid off the awning and fell to the sidewalk
below before his mother could even finish her sentence.
“…jump off the awning…”
Mrs. Yeboah sighed as she continued to pound fresh
vegetables into a thick, yellow mush. It was always the same, she thought. Her
boy is growing up much too fast.
“Darko!” shouted Mr. Yeboah.
“Yes, pop?”
“What are you up to today?”
“I was thinking of hanging out with Kwame and Ibrahim.”
“I was hoping you could watch the store while I get some
things.”
“What kind of things?”
“All kinds of things:
.
