My memories of you and the stories you shared of your life have become even more precious now that you are with Jesus. Those glimpses of how special you were in your everyday and often mundane routines of life bring smiles and strength through the tears. As a young woman, you ran away from home and the possibility of an arranged marriage because you desperately wanted to continue your education. You eventually found your way to the administration block at Achimota School and virtually stalked and pestered the principal for days, till he gave you a chance to tell your story and apply for a scholarship based on your good grades. As ayoungwife, whendoctorsdeclared that you could never have your own child after multiple miscarriages you did not give up. The fact that I arrived prematurely made you even more determined to see me live. As a new mother without a babysitter, you would place me in a carrier under your desk at the Ministry of Trade while youworked.Your immediatecolleagues were in on it and you made the best of the situation till you found a nanny. One would have thought you would spoil me rotten but youwere very strict. In my pre-teen years, it was the school of many hard knocks, slaps, scoldings andspankingswherenecessarybut you also allowedme to exploremy interests through library hours, book clubs, art and craft classes, drama clubs, dance workshops, music groups, vacation camps, home gardening projects and cooking lessons. Sometimes I even got to follow you to rallies. And so, I developed a healthy balance of fear, reverence, awe, adoration and respect for you that has stayed with me through my life. Of course, our relationship was not always perfect but as I grew older, you guided me into independence and showed me that life was not always rosy, fair or easy. I’m so thankful that you did not mollycoddle me. I didn’t always understand it then but I have come to appreciate your wisdom. Your love for me, for Miss Nyamekye and all your other children and grandchildren, has been undeniable. The way your face would light up at the sight of us, the way your smile would widen at the mention of our names, the excitement when someone had a new baby and even tears when any one of us came to say goodbye because we had to travel. Tears? Yes. You were not always the strong passionate speaker at rallies and durbars, trekking through the jungle and slapping muscled thugs in rowdy disputes. You could be a bit of a cry baby at times. Seeing you dissolve into a blubbering mess at funerals, weddings or baby christenings was no surprise. You always had extra handkerchiefs in your purse. More than ever, you have been the fun-loving, spontaneous, teasing, bubbly and humorous life of every party. Sassy yet graceful. Cheerful and witty. Incredibly wise, warm and approachable. Always THAT ONE mummy, auntie and grandma guaranteed not just to join in on the pranks but to help plan them in the first place. There was always a mischievous twinkle in your eye. I recall one dinner with friends who lived abroad and had come back home for the holidays. I was about 10 years old. Your beloved Pigfeet Stew was on the menu. You observed how the host and her family would leave the bones, still garnered with enough meat, on their side plates. Knowing how much you loved juicy bones it came as no surprise when you asked them to pass the bones. 1946 MRS. CECILIA JOHNSON 2025 31 A Loving Farewell
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