Chapter One –
Early Beginnings

The 1970s was a period of instability in Ghana’s political life. The yearning for freedom towards the late 1950s into the 1960s had given way to instability, interspersed with a string of military interventions. I was too young to experience the discomfort and hardship. I was born after two boys and so it was natural that I spent more time with them than with my two older sisters. I got introduced to the rough and tumble of childhood play – tree climbing, football, and all other games reserved exclusively for boys. I was a ‘tomboy’, a fancy term for girls who were usually found in the company of boys.

I interacted with a lot of people and made many childhood connections back then. We lived in several places all over the capital.

North Kaneshie was a place I remember vividly. I attended Ann’s Preparatory School, which was close to the Cocoa Marketing Board workers’ apartments in that suburb of Accra. Mataheko, another suburb, about 10 kilometres from Kaneshie, was another place I remember quite distinctly. I was given the opportunity to attend the Rapid Way Academy school – a decent school back then. Next, we made a giant leap to a completely different part of town – Burma Camp, an area occupied by personnel of the Ghana Armed Forces. There I made new friends whilst attending the Burma Camp Complex school.

My father was transferred to the United Kingdom to act as the Area Manager of the Ghana Commercial Bank in Cheapside, an area of London, at a point in time during my early development. When he had settled into his new role, I had the opportunity to visit him in London. It blew me away.

I was so enthralled with the surroundings. It was indeed a teeming city to my mind back then. Its unvarnished dedication to individualism was very visible at this time. My siblings were equally excited about the adventure. When Daddy was eventually transferred back to Ghana, my surroundings changed again. This time I was enrolled into Association International School at the Airport Residential Area. It was a very competitive environment with a sophisticated network of students. I sat for the Common Entrance Examination there and made it to Achimota school, located in Ghana’s capital city, Accra.

One of the unique recollections of my time at Achimota School was an overpowering, obsessive desire to become a Catholic nun. It started off as an idea that I kept to myself. The prospect of being tucked away at a convent, away from the glare of humankind, was appealing. I considered myself a social misfit on campus at this time. I lacked the confidence to face people. The very thought was enough to push me away. A misanthrope might be a strong word to describe me, but it was quite close. I had some friends, but I wasn’t necessarily someone who made an impression at first glance. When the school authorities managed to contract Reverend Father Charles G. Palmer Buckle to become Achimota’s chaplain, I knew my moment had come. I mustered all the co