co-ordinating office. She had ended up keeping the Birth and Death register.
âSurely, one doesnât need a Masterâs degree in statistics to do that?â she would fume and rage daily. Oko ignored her complaints. The truth was that he didnât feel that sympathetic. And neither did the men in the office. In fact, they let her know that she was unwelcome, and a burden they did not know what to do with.
               Having to deal with a man who is over-qualified for a job is bad enough.
               To have to cope with an over-qualified woman in any situation is a complete misfortune.
Now six years later, both she and Opokuya were here in Accra, working. And she had a marital problem. A big problem. She should just gather herself together, and tell Opokuya what she felt. If Opokuya too could not understand her, then that was that. She would accept that she was just a fool, like her mother and her grandmother had said.
After all, people change. Look at her. Esi had changed. If she now found Okoâs attentions so suffocating that she wanted very badly to split, then people change. There was a time when she had been made to fear that in fact she would never marry.
âYou have waited too long,â Esiâs mother had complained. âGiven your structure, you shouldnât have.â (The poor woman shared the popularly held belief that a young woman who is too tall, too thin, and has flat belly and a flat behind has a slim chance of bearing children. The longer she waits after puberty, the slimmer those chances get!)
Esiâs main problem was that she was easily bored. And no woman ever caught a man or held him by showing lack of interest. Esi had known that she would have to work up some enthusiasm in her relationship with men. âBut how?â she had kept asking herself. Now looking back she didnât dare admit, even to herself, that perhaps what she had felt for Oko in the first years of their married life was gratitude more than anything else. Gratitude that in spite of herself he had persisted in courting her and marrying her.
âNot many women are this lucky â¦â Esi could hear her grandmotherâs voice. âAnd who told you that feeling grateful to a man isnot enough reason to marry him? My lady, the world would die of surprise if every woman openly confessed the true reasons why she married a certain man. These days, young people donât seem to know why they marry or should marry.â
âWhat are some of the reasons, Nana?â
âAh, so you want to know? Esi we know that we all marry to have children
âBut Nana, that is such an old and worn-out idea! Children can be born to people who are not married.â
âSure, sure, but to help them grow up well, children need homes with walls, a roof, fire, pots.â
âOh Nana. But one person can provide all these things these days for a growing child!â
âMaybe ... yes... Yes, my lady. We also marry to increase the number of people with whom we can share the joys and the pains of this life.â
âNana, how about love?â
âLove? ⦠Love? ⦠Love is not safe, my lady Silk, love is dangerous. It is deceitfully sweet like the wine from a fresh palm tree at dawn. Love is fine for singing about and love songs are good to listen to, sometimes even to dance to. But when we need to count on human strength, and when we have to count pennies for food for our stomachs and clothes for our backs, love is nothing. Ah my lady, the last man any woman should think of marrying is the man she loves.â
       6
It was night in Accra. It was not as hot as it had been in the day, but it was still hot, and the atmosphere was heavy with the moisture from the gulf. The Hotel Twentieth Century was blazing with light, consuming enough electricity to light up
âSurely, one doesnât need a Masterâs degree in statistics to do that?â she would fume and rage daily. Oko ignored her complaints. The truth was that he didnât feel that sympathetic. And neither did the men in the office. In fact, they let her know that she was unwelcome, and a burden they did not know what to do with.
               Having to deal with a man who is over-qualified for a job is bad enough.
               To have to cope with an over-qualified woman in any situation is a complete misfortune.
Now six years later, both she and Opokuya were here in Accra, working. And she had a marital problem. A big problem. She should just gather herself together, and tell Opokuya what she felt. If Opokuya too could not understand her, then that was that. She would accept that she was just a fool, like her mother and her grandmother had said.
After all, people change. Look at her. Esi had changed. If she now found Okoâs attentions so suffocating that she wanted very badly to split, then people change. There was a time when she had been made to fear that in fact she would never marry.
âYou have waited too long,â Esiâs mother had complained. âGiven your structure, you shouldnât have.â (The poor woman shared the popularly held belief that a young woman who is too tall, too thin, and has flat belly and a flat behind has a slim chance of bearing children. The longer she waits after puberty, the slimmer those chances get!)
Esiâs main problem was that she was easily bored. And no woman ever caught a man or held him by showing lack of interest. Esi had known that she would have to work up some enthusiasm in her relationship with men. âBut how?â she had kept asking herself. Now looking back she didnât dare admit, even to herself, that perhaps what she had felt for Oko in the first years of their married life was gratitude more than anything else. Gratitude that in spite of herself he had persisted in courting her and marrying her.
âNot many women are this lucky â¦â Esi could hear her grandmotherâs voice. âAnd who told you that feeling grateful to a man isnot enough reason to marry him? My lady, the world would die of surprise if every woman openly confessed the true reasons why she married a certain man. These days, young people donât seem to know why they marry or should marry.â
âWhat are some of the reasons, Nana?â
âAh, so you want to know? Esi we know that we all marry to have children
âBut Nana, that is such an old and worn-out idea! Children can be born to people who are not married.â
âSure, sure, but to help them grow up well, children need homes with walls, a roof, fire, pots.â
âOh Nana. But one person can provide all these things these days for a growing child!â
âMaybe ... yes... Yes, my lady. We also marry to increase the number of people with whom we can share the joys and the pains of this life.â
âNana, how about love?â
âLove? ⦠Love? ⦠Love is not safe, my lady Silk, love is dangerous. It is deceitfully sweet like the wine from a fresh palm tree at dawn. Love is fine for singing about and love songs are good to listen to, sometimes even to dance to. But when we need to count on human strength, and when we have to count pennies for food for our stomachs and clothes for our backs, love is nothing. Ah my lady, the last man any woman should think of marrying is the man she loves.â
       6
It was night in Accra. It was not as hot as it had been in the day, but it was still hot, and the atmosphere was heavy with the moisture from the gulf. The Hotel Twentieth Century was blazing with light, consuming enough electricity to light up
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