I remember that fateful evening. I was just in class four and at the height of my childhood or should I say boyhood mischief and hyperactivity. Okay boy, slow down, before I continue on that trajectory, lemme tell you about another figure in my young life at that time….efo Kofi.
My father had employed the services of a house assistant or buttler ( for some reason I hate the expression house boy, sounds demeaning). Now he wasn’t really a boy, he was a man, and a special man at that. Fo (Bro) Kofi as we called him had some developmental and mental challenges, hence his speech was not clear, his behavior was usually awkward and he had strange mannerisms, overly loud voice tone, he’s not capable of talking undertone and and drooled a bit. His particular set of disability earned him several nicknames, his louder than normal voice, unique style of dressing, gait etc meant children were either scared of him, or calling him names and making fun.
But beyond this, Fo Kofi was the most serviceable man ever, obedient to a fault and if you knew him well enough, fun to hang around with. It’s not like we had a choice tho, my father stuck with him, gave him a job and ensured that we respected him dearly and insisted we refer to him as brother. Oo yeah he even had privileges of punishing us if we were naughty as an elder brother would, and we lived and ate as a family. I remember how he will come get me from school and carry me on his back if I was too tired to walk…neighbors called him names, but I knew I was riding on the back of my brother.
Now back to my hyperactivity, I am not sure if there was such an acute shortage of water or I was just being adventurous. In any case it wasn’t even my job, but I had climbed onto the signicantly tall steel water tank with a ladder in order to fetch water from it using a pulley bucket. Suddenly I slipped! All my family heard was my first loud cry as I slipped followed by the large thud as I came crumbling down. It was very dark out there, they couldn’t see me reeling on the floor in pain, all they knew was that I had fallen inside the tank with water in it!
My mother and sisters had started wailing and shouting, even my ailing dad got up with his walking stick to see what he could do…there was confusion and disarray. My brother had started climbing to see if he could enter the tank and come after me…then Fo Kofi appeared from nowhere with two large construction axes screaming for everyone to get out of his way. He was coming to cut open the water tank to spill the water in order to save me. As he advanced to the tank, before he could take the first quick jab he saw me, lying in the mud, the extreme corner of the tank. He threw away the axe and carried me to the sitting room much to the joy and uncertainty of my family.
Well I am alive to type this so you should understand I didn’t die. But as I reflected today, on the 17th anniversary of my father’s death, as I analyze my life now and what I know my father had hoped I do with my life, I believe I haven’t disappointed him. One thing he taught me was the positive regard for persons with disability, the genuine love of them and most importantly never to underestimate what they can do. Fo Kofi was the only one who had a shot at saving my life that evening if indeed I was drowning, the special somebody who had been drafted into the family became the life saver. Today as I work with people with special needs, trying to help as much as I can, as I love them like they are my own family, I know it is a gift given by my father.
Never ever underestimate people on the basis of what their disabilities are, but rather appreciate them on the basis of what their abilities are. For the stone rejected by the builders becomes the cornerstone. My father taught me this in practical terms, Fo Kofi reinforced this by his heroics of alacrity and love, and the new friends I have made, such as Adjoa, a special child who is now a lawyer and who assists me in no small way are a testimony to the strength of those we think know are helpless or hopeless or both.
Happy Sunday,
Yours truly,
James Mawuli Gawu.
