Gold Coast,1911.
It was the harmattan season, the cocoa trees in Axim whistled as the wind blew through the farm. Efua stepped quietly on the dry leaves by the edge of the forest. Her feet were bare, her wrapper tied tightly over her white mission-school blouse.
Her heart… racing.
She stood under the huge silk-cotton tree...... And waited.
“You’re late,” she said without turning.
“It wasn't easy hiding from your father’s guards, I was being careful to avoid getting caught." Kwame answered, emerging from the bush trail. Sweat trickling down his brown muscular body, his work clothes torn in many places.
Efua turned and tried not to smile. “He’ll kill you if he catches us.”
Kwame shrugged. “Then I won't mind dying for you.”
She gave him a playful smack. “Do you think everything is a joke?”
“No, it's very dangerous I know,” he said, reaching for her delicate hands.
Efua was Joe Rawlings' only daughter, a prominent Afro-European merchant who’d made his fortune trading with the British. She’d been raised in marble houses, taught English and etiquette by white tutors.
Kwame was a cocoa farm boy.
He was tall, handsome, muscular, quick-witted, poetic, and an entirely unsuitable suitor.
Their secret meeting place was under the silk-cotton tree, every Thursday. But that day, something felt different. Efua was tense and unusually quiet.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
Efua hesitated, hugging herself tight. “He’s sending me to London. He says I’ve become… so distracted.”
Kwame stiffened. “When?”
“Next week.”
A knife could cut through the thick silence, as kwame crumpled on the floor of the forest.
“I begged him,” she whispered in tears. “I told him I wanted to stay, to learn the business here.”
Kwame was a tough man, and no one would have thought he could shed tears so easily, but now... he did.
Efua dropped her gaze. “Kwame…”
“Run away with me.”
She look at him, startled.
“I mean it,” he said, eyes blazing. “I’ll take you to Takoradi. We’ll disappear. I will fish, you can teach. We’ll start over.”
“My father will find us. There can't be any hiding place for us. And when he finds us, he will kill you."
Kwame stepped closer, placing her hand on his chest. “Then I'll die knowing I loved deeply, and was deeply loved in return.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I want to. But I’m scared, for you.”
He leaned in, forehead against hers. “Don’t sweat it, my love. We'll be fine. Fear is just a spirit and love is much stronger than fear.”
She laughed softly through her tears. “You and your sayings.”
“My love for you put words in my mouth. I believe in love more than I believe in laws.”
They kissed—soft and aching, two desperate people. A forbidden love.
The next day.
Kwame stood by the river.....waiting...
He carried a small sack containing all his belongings, and a fishing net. He watched the sun rise, burn, and soften into a glorious glow. Boats going to Takoradi passed.
But Efua never came.
Kwame's eyes dimmed with tears, as he entered the last boat to Sekondi. He could no longer work at the Cocoa farm.
He could not bear to see his heart torn apart over and again.
Sixty years later.
It was a very dusty harmattan and the breeze swept through the cocoa farm in Axim. A beautiful young woman stood before the silk-cotton tree. In her hand, was a letter. Her grandmother had died the week before, leaving behind boxes of old books and letters.
But the one that caught her attention the most, was labeled, “For the only man I have ever loved.”
The letter read:
“ The silk-cotton tree is where my heart once lived. I was meant to meet him here, but I was afraid, for him. I obeyed my father and married a man I never loved, because I wanted to protect him. My father knew about us and would have killed him, if I had absconded with him under the cover of dawn. But I never forgot Kwame. Never stopped loving him. They say the tree holds spirits. If he ever came back, I wish him to know that I waited—in my heart, every day. And I hope we meet again ..... In the next world.”
Adjoa traced the bark of the tree, then glanced around.
“Grandma,” she whispered, “you never told us this story.”
A voice from behind startled her.
“You’re Efua’s granddaughter?”
Adjoa turned sharply. Standing before her was a tall and graceful old man, leaning on a cane. His eyes were cloudy, but kind. He must have been a real showstopper in his younger days.
“Yes. I’m Adjoa. And you—?”
“I used to work here. Long ago. I came here to see this tree, perhaps for the very last time. You look so much like your grandmother."
She gasped. “You’re Kwame?”
He nodded slowly. “She....she told you?"
Adjoa reached into her bag and handed him the letter. He opened it with trembling hands.
When he reached the last line, he smiled through tears.
Don’t sweat it, my love. I'll be waiting..... Now I can finally go in peace.”
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Thank you for reading.
