The Cocoa Farm

Syncopated rhythms played together to create the perfect beat on the tin roof. Orchestrated by the rain, these rhythms dissolved into dissonance as the rain got heavier. These sounds grew louder until it no longer sounded like rain but like a car whose engine refuses to start. The beat was then enhanced by sounds of thunder and flashes of lighting. Ashanti curled into her bed, soaking the warmth of her cotton cloth. The piercing feeling of the springs in her bed overshadowed the least bit of comfort her cloth was giving her.

Ashanti began to weep. Thoughts of her father flooded her memory. Every night during the rainy season, he would bring her a lantern and stay by her side until she fell asleep. She thought about how her father would change the straw roofing to tin roofing once the season of harvest was over and back again to straw roofing once the rainy season was over. This night, she felt alone, left with her cloth and the spirit of her father in her thoughts. She wanted more for the week of her 25th birthday but instead, she felt alone.

With dried tears on her face, Ashanti woke up the next morning and stepped to the window. The sun greeted her with its warm presence, but Ashanti couldn’t return the gesture. She looked out at the Papaya tree in her garden. She allowed herself to get lost in the tree, envious of how it was going to spend its day: still and left alone. She knew it was still going to be there once she returned but she had to carry on her day regardless of how she felt. So, with a heavy heart and a desire to stay alone, she left the presence of the papaya tree to start her day at the farm.

The sun finished its trail in the sky and headed west with all its luminance. Ashanti returned from the farm and got ready to head to her uncle Abeiku’s house with her mother. The center of Uncle Abeiku’s compound had twelve mango trees planted in a circle, spaced approximately two meters away from each other, making it possible to have events in the middle. The Nsawam family gathered under these trees to celebrate Ashanti’s Silver Jubilee. It was one of the very few things she appreciated about her family: how everyone drops everything to celebrate a young woman’s Silver Jubilee.

The atmosphere was filled with joy in the form of drumming, singing, and laughing from the crowd. Ashanti’s mood began to shift and suddenly her father wasn’t the only thing on her mind. Through the midst of the laughter, her mother stood up to present her with a present. The resilient mother Addae, blessed with height and saturated in melanin, walked with grace to her daughter. Her illuminating energy was felt by all, and she still turned the heads of both the young and the old at her age. The weight of her footsteps sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. She walked towards her daughter to present her with an old wooden box.

The rain from the night before left behind a slippery floor and Madam Addae became an unfortunate victim to the rain’s mess. As she fell, the wooden box opened, and a small black notebook fell out of the box. Everyone’s gaze instantly shifted from Madam Addae to the leather notebook.

“The Notebook?” Uncle Abeiku question, perplexed.

“Yes, the notebook,” said Madam Addae as she helped herself up, “my late husband has chosen his beloved daughter to be the inheritor of the cocoa farm.”

The compound was immediately filled with whispers. Children looked into their parent’s eyes for answers while others looked at Mother Addae with exasperation. Ashanti tried to conceal the nerves in her eyes with only a slice of victory. Finally, Uncle Abeiku stood up and spoke, again.

“Your grace, Madam Addae, we do not wish to disrespect the last wishes and desires of your late husband and our brother, but isn’t Ashanti too young to inherit such a large plot of land? How sure are we that she can take care of herself? We all know these young girls can be careless with their responsibilities at times. We can’t trust her with our greatest family possession.”

Ashanti’s ears began to ring at the thought of being called too young and careless. He didn’t even address her or care to look in her direction. Her heartbeat began to rise and her blood began to boil gradually past 37 °C. She could feel her life force coursing through her veins, nerves turned into a beaming rage until all she could see was darkness.

She stood up viciously, clenching her fists tightly, carefully keeping them by her side, and her teeth clenched as well. Ashanti tried to make out her words as calmly and respectfully as she could.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me careless in the presence of our family members and please, do not question my father’s judgment, ever again,” she said, staggering her words with the last bit of strength she could gather to speak.

Silence swept across the compound. Not even an ant dared to move. Ashanti and Uncle Abeiku stared at each other from across the compound and everyone could feel the tension. Ashanti raced out of the circle and back to her compound, sat under her papaya tree and wailed with her head between her thighs.

***

The next day at the farm was dull. The events from the night before took a toll on her and she was unwilling to go to the farm that morning. She knew it was her duty to plant crops while the ground was still fertile so that her family could eat during the dry season, but she didn’t want to be there. She took her anger out on the crops.

She returned to her compound to meet six of her uncles seated on her corridor with her mother. She was greeted and offered a chair. Ashanti rolled her eyes and threw her cutlass into the root papaya tree before sitting. She tried her hardest to focus her attention elsewhere as she wasn’t ready to take in more insults than she had from the night before.

“Please, you know you’re not ready to carry our family’s legacy.”

“Your husband will own plenty of properties.”

“We’re simply asking you to share.”

“Think of all of us.”

Their voices grew dimmer and dimmer until they eventually faded to the back of Ashanti’s head. She focused her gaze on the papaya tree and thought of when she planted it with her father. He told her stories about how she would one day grow to be just like a tree. She didn’t know what it meant at the time. She was brought back to reality by the sound of her mother’s voice.

She walked into her room ignoring the shock of everyone on the compound. Her mother raced after her and demanded a conversation. Madam Addae spoke with infuriation in her voice.

“I excused your actions last night because I understood you were upset.” She rumbled, taking no pauses. “But you will NOT bring that same energy into my compound. I did not raise you to walk out when elders are speaking and I certainly did not raise you to ignore me when I’m speaking.”

Madam Addae’s eyes were on the brink of falling out of her face. They only retired to their default placement after Ashanti took a seat.

She continued in a much calmer tone, “I want you to continue to fight for your father but there is a very thin line between defending his legacy and disgracing it. You are a brilliant young woman and I know you will be able to take care of the land, but they don’t agree. You have to prove to them that you’re old enough and walking out is immature.”

Ashanti, still silent, took her gaze off her mother and into her palms. Her mother continued,

“I’m not asking you to give up your inheritance but-,” she pauses, taking Ashanti’s hand, “However, I have two foreigners who are each proposing for $20,000 your cocoa farm.” Ashanti’s eyes shifted back to her mother. “Yes. That’s plenty of money for two kilometers of land. You can take the money and continue your studies in the city and no one will bother you. I will support you if that’s what you want to do but I’d rather you take care of yourself than spend your life defending some land.”

Ashanti left the conversation more confused than when she started. She had dreams of becoming a lawyer but never thought it would be possible. She imagined herself as a Supreme Court judge. Her temporary victory was terminated by the thought of leaving his mother behind and the agony she would face on her behalf. Her confusion quickly turned into rage. With all her strength, she picked up the wooden box and threw it against the wall. Papers scattered on the floor, but what caught her attention was the black leather notebook that remained intact. It looked old yet, the pages were still intact. She opened it and began to skim through the pages.

She kept skimming and realized each page was addressed to a different person, but none were addressed to her. Ink had splattered across the pages till they almost faded off the page. She kept skimming and feeling the breeze across her face until she encountered a page with her name at the top,

ASHANTI

When you were born, I was afraid to hold you because you were so fragile. Your skin was more radiant than the morning sun and your eyes -, they were my world.

When I held you in my arms, I knew you were going to grow to command the same respect your mother does. The first time I looked into your eyes, I knew you were a fighter, and you were going to fight till the end.

When I found out I was passing, I planted that tree with you. I wanted you to understand that as long as that tree has roots, so shall you. As long as the leaves are growing, your strength shall not wither.

I willed that plot of land to you because it’s your birthright. I trust you with my legacy, and you must defend that. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I love you, always – Dad

She just stared blankly into the page of the notebook, feeling burdened. A single tear streamed down her face and onto the page. She held the notebook close to her chest, and time felt like air. She was partially relieved to feel her father’s presence again but anguished by the emptiness she felt.

***

At the dawn of her birthday, she was not surprised to find her uncles lined up on her corridor, waiting to rip the deed out of her hands. She found herself a seat in the corridor. One of her uncles began to speak and was immediately interrupted by Ashanti.

“You had the other day to speak, so now it’s my turn.”

Jaws started to drop, and eyes started to pop out of faces. Nevertheless, Ashanti was determined to finish her statement. Calmly, she continued.

“I’m responsible enough. The deed is in my name, and I don’t have to ask anyone for permission. Thank you. ”

Ashanti walked back into her room to get ready for her day. Everyone watched her walk in, idolizing her bravery yet infuriated by her audacity.

She retired to the papaya tree to watch the sunrise from the east and embraced its presence. She tilted her head up 90˚ and saw that tiny fruits had begun to grow on the papaya tree. She clutched her little black notebook, and with a big smile on her face, she read the letter over and over again to feel her father’s presence one last time.