This painting is not a portrait of Adiza.
This painting is not a portrait of Adiza.

The Beautiful Little Girl, Adiza.

NTOABOMA — A young lady walks up to me recently and asks, “Are you Narmer?” I said yes, wondering why a fine young woman, pulchritudinous above and below, would approach a man like myself, an old man.

She says, “I am ready.” I retort, “Ready, how? What’s your name?” She smiles, and breaks out with a fine laugh. At this point the whole thing has got me blushing from my toe to what is left of the grey hair covering my head.

“How do you walk up to me, ask for my name, and never reveal yourself, my dear?” I suddenly insist. She points to the Chop Bar owner, a lady I have known since I was just the tender age of 11 years old, and she says, “My name is Adiza, and there’s my mother.”

“The owner?” I fire back. Shocked.

Now Adiza and her mother are both laughing. They can both see that I was both blushing and stupefied. Adiza was too beautiful, so stunning in posture and manner that I could barely control my seeming infatuation. The Waakye I was buying wasn’t coming quick enough. So I asked Adiza, “So you are ready for what?”

Adiza says, “A long time ago, when I was nine years old, you told my mother how cute I was, that you would wait until I grew up so you could marry me.” I couldn’t recall the event. More, I still couldn’t understand where the story was going.

Adiza continues, “So I am ready.”

My heart drops. I reply so candidly, “Me?” But of course, the way I said it, got both Adiza and her mother on the floor. They haven’t seen me turn red before. And it wasn’t because of the flavor from the pepper or the Shitor of the Waakye.

Thing is, children grow up too fast. Adiza’s mother has been a great, wonderful woman in our little town in Ntoaboma. Everyone knows this woman, and every one respects her. I was flattered by the whole treatment.

However, I quickly realized that it was all a joke — the kind of niceties that come with our cultural peculiarities. This is Adiza and her mother’s way of telling me how much they appreciate me. Or how much they thought that I still looked good for my old age.

No, Adiza doesn’t want to marry me. I knew that! I know some colonial missionary educated men (the Metha in particular), who would have tried taking advantage of the situation and caused heartache and headache in Ntoaboma. Not I.

If you understand our culture, you would quickly realize that all Adiza and her mother were asking for was for me to become another old man out there looking out for this young lady. Adiza is in college, and because of what her mother means to me, some of that cost is now entirely my own.

Nothing more! We call this communal labor.

Me too when I was younger and I needed someone to look after me, outside the home, in that same community, Adiza’s mother stood out. She gave me all kinds of Waakye for free. She gave me food and insisted on not collecting money.

Whenever I left for boarding school, Adiza’s mother gave me something small. Sometimes she snuck an Olonka of Gari to my mother to give to me for school. Other times, she sent me one bottle of shitor here and there when my mum visited me in boarding school. Adiza’s mother didn’t ask to sleep with me or marry me, although she always called me, “My Husband!” You see?

Our culture is one that employs terms, phrases and ideas of endearment for paying respect. That respect is not to be taken lightly. It is not to be abused.

Now, it’s my turn. Perhaps. It’s my turn to look out for Adiza too in the same way that her mother looked out for me when I was a young lad! To sneak in something small here and there to her mother to give to Adiza, for school or for whatsoever. It is not a call to marry Adiza! No! And it is certainly not a call to entice a young girl and ask her for sex! No! It’s called Communal Labor, my people!

Previous articleOur Modern Children Are Little Emperors and Empresses.
Next articleAnimals and Humans: Is There a Difference?
~ Success is a horrible teacher. It seduces the ignorant into thinking that he can’t lose. It seduces the intellectual into thinking that he must win. Success corrupts; Only usefulness exalts. ~ WP. Narmer Amenuti (which names translate: Dances With Lions), was born by The River, deep within the heartlands of Ghana, in Ntoaboma. He is a public intellectual from the Sankoré School of Critical Theory, where he trained and was awarded the highest degree of Warrior Philosopher at the Temple of Narmer. As a Culture Critic and a Guan Rhythmmaker, he is a dilettante, a dissident and a gadfly, and he eschews promotional intellectualism. He maintains strict anonymity and invites intellectuals and lay people alike to honest debate. He reads every comment. If you enjoyed this essay and would like to support more content like this one, please pour the Ancestors some Libation in support of my next essay, or you can go bold, very bold and invoke them. Here's my CashApp: $TheRealNarmer


  1. One of my little Honeys called me from Ghana saying she is ready. When I asked what she is ready for, she told me I promised to marry her and bring her to the USA. That she has waited all this time for that. These kids have good memory.

  2. Nice story. But you know how many men have taken advantage of this familiarity and actually defiled their prey? There are whole theories on this “My small wife” cultural narrative. It’s actually scary for me as a woman.

    • It is scary. There are (old) men who take advantage of small women who look up to them. It has become too rampant. Instead of treating girls who look up to them like daughters, they take advantage of them. Most of those men are insecure about themselves! Men like Woody Allen. It’s sad.

  3. A beautifully told lesson.

    My wife in my hometown is about 90 years now.

    She used to give my mom all goodies from her farm to cook for me when I was a toddler.

    Imagine her joy when she sees her husband all grown up now, and occasionally giving back the love in small small gifts.

    She is happiest when my wife pays her homage as the first wife. Ha!

    • Thank you. You see, some folks don’t know that bigger, smarter, older women have taken care of some of us without asking anything in return.

      Too many men these days want sex from younger women in return for being just a nice person. It’s sad.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.