I have seen them in the streets. They are faces with names, families, stories all to their own. They are small, tall, young,, brave, experienced, inexperienced, afraid, outspoken, shy. It appears that their value in themselves is centered in on whether they are able to achieve a marriage that will sustain them and a man who will never abandon them. In Ghana they are not seen as equal, or highly regarded. They are but mere possessions and objects to obtain. Their eyes are dark, filled with fear, loss, and anxiety. They are daughters. They are sisters. They are mothers.
THEY ARE WOMEN. They are, each one, beautiful.
In Ghana they line the streets, selling from cramped wooden shacks and overcrowded stands to make pennies to contribute to their family income. I have wondered, is their someone out there who truly loves them? Cares for them? Gives them a gentle word? Are they married? Widowed? With child? Were they left alone? Have they lost a child?
They have a story, of course, but they stay so quiet and unmoving that it is hard to know much. So their stories are left to be drown out by the overbearing noise of calamity and chaos within their city. Though their stories may be there, they are silent accounts of what the world has left them with.
I have seen them, stranded with children in a city they don’t know well, left to fend for themselves against the ugliness of human cruelty. Men, maybe even strangers to them, have been heavy handed to them on the streets leaving them wincing and crying out in pain. But I have seen no one jump to save them. I have seen them with no self respect, selling themselves on the streets because they had no other way to survive. I have seen girls we would deem as babies pregnant with babies of their own. For many, if not most, they feel their in no choice for their actions. No choice but the path they have chosen. And for some, there really isn’t.
Most people would be startled by these scenes, their skin left crawling and their minds unable to shake the images. For me, I can’t seem to get their faces out of my head. Maybe they will be with me forever. I hope so. I don’t want to forget.
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