Sweet memories of her are ingrained on my mind and there they will remain in perpetuity. A Seraph sent at the appropriate time to help fulfil an innate dream; the dream of escaping from the despair which was rife everywhere. You can call it escapism. Schooling was daunting with hostile teachers cracking whips at will; venting their frustrations on poor kids. In the midst of these hostilities she appeared.

She offered me a unique place in her heart. A sacred a place the lecherous male teachers who lusted for her sweetness were denied. She showered me with unflinching love (not amorous) and was so caring. She always wanted me close to her so I sat at her desk. She spoke about the import of education. She took interest in my scholastic evolution and gave her life in exchange for that.

Miss Agnes Asare was a rare gem; a stunner whose beauty radiated excessively. Her terracotta skin shone and reflected the sun beams into nothingness. Her cute body was like that of a robin with an exquisite poise. A fashionable lady; she was in her early twenties and fresh from College. As a single lady; suitors were hot on her trail. They were resentful of my presence in her life but later gave in. I was a key to unlocking her tender heart they realised. It was a case of love me; love my dog.

I was her pet; her Rottweiler; which she treated with tenderness. She disliked it when I’m punished and had rescued me from the cracking whips of Mr Obeng the Craft Teacher on few occasions. In the grand scheme of things Craft work was not one of the escape routes; no chance. To prevent such occurrences she kept me by her cute side more often; including sneaking me to the staff common room where she shared her lunch with me. She gave me money on regular basis. It was lovely game we played. I will open my palm with my eyes firmly shut. A roll of neatly folded Cedi notes will drop into my palm; the effects were sensational. She invited me home occasionally. That was the sweetest bit of all, as I had her attention all by myself.

A trivial incident happened which became an impetus to the escapism premise. I was with her at Madina station at Legon as she waited for a car home. She drew my attention to the Red Tiled Buildings across the road. ‘Those should be your target’ she whispered. I looked at her sweet face and smiled. That was tasking aim to set for a kid I thought. She revisited the subject some days later but this time with a pledge. ‘My daughter will be your wife if you did.’ It was a tempting inducement yet so illusive; betrothing her unborn daughter to me at such tender age. It was a unique stimulus to the desire. I had a bride in waiting; except she was still in the womb. The price was a certificate from Legon. I got her message; she wanted me to be great; I was resolved.

A couple of us were preparing for the test to escape but I was the only one she offered extra tuition. Why did she give me a chunk portion of her heart? Incidentally I was not the dandiest pupil in the class. There was the jollied Emma who came to school in Range Rovers. There was also Amon who read host of Mills & Boon stories and spoke fluent English. And the petit Mercy the little imp was always trailing him.

Along the line fate became cruel and things took a diverse turn. Miss Agnes became sick and was absent from school for months. Part of me went with her and I yearned for her return. I tarried for the day she will appear through the door. One day she did looking so lovely but worn out. I was thrilled to see her. My initial thought was to run into her arms and put my head on her fluffy bosom to feel the warmth it emanated. The one I had missed badly but there was limit to our special relation. It excluded inappropriate touches. She was very professional. So I was unable to express my excitements when I saw her.

She called me as she settled in her chair. It seemed I was the embodiment of the class as that existed in her imagination; I was real. I was the lone pupil; the rest were phantoms with lost souls wandering in distant lands. As I sat by her desk she stared at me intensively with sparks in her eyes. She spoke softly but with some anguish. ‘You never look for me when I was away’ she said. ‘Also you were not excited to see me’.

She went on; she was so concerned about me and asked to be discharged from the hospital. She longed to be around for me though she was still unwell. The exam was near and I needed support. I was stunned, touched and my eye became teary. I had never felt so loved and yet ashamed not to express my joy when she walked in. I was devastated by her absence but I was just a kid who could not articulate his innate feelings. At times I wish these events took place in present times. The narration would have been different. I would have wrapped my arms around her curvy frame. Sweep her off her feet and swing her a few times before resting her feathery cleavage on my bosom. I will give her a long kiss on her cheek to let her know I loved her so much. Miss Agnes exuded pure love, a woman’s love; a mother’s love.

I wrote the exam of liberation and came top of the school. Again she came from the hospital to be present at the ceremony that awarded me the top prize. She was so excited and her face beamed with joy. I left to pursue the set goal. Months later I went back to look for her and she was gone; gone with the wind. She left when I went to High school I was told. She had remained strong for me in her sickness so I could relive the dream. There was no point hanging around; she had lit the Prometheus flame.

Where can I find Miss Agnes?

For ages I have searched for the loved one but to no avail. She went back to the Brong Ahafo region to be close to her family I was told. Miss left an indelible mark on my heart and I carry her memory fondly. It’s locked in a pod tucked neatly in a place where it will flourish evermore. The seeds are in fruition; harvest time is near.

Lest I forget Miss I am ready for my bride now; the one you betrothed to me in the womb. I got the certificate which was her dowry years ago. I have topped that up with other certificates from the United Kingdom. I escaped from the desolation.

I will implore teachers to radiate love to their pupils. The kind Miss Agnes exuded because these kids will grow up with such sweet memories forever. The Teaching profession is one of the least paid jobs in the country but teachers should take solace in the fact that their past students adore and hold them in high esteem.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com