I don’t know a damn thing about social justice.
Marie Fisher

How my aunt learned that she was a white goddess.

This was in the 1930’s when Ghana was called “The Gold Coast”.

At night the drums played all around the jungle near and far. They kept her awake. First near, then distant, then the other side and faint. Her husband was a very quiet man, timid too. A clark for the gold mining company. For some reason he slept somewhere else. They were very prim. Maybe it was company rules because they always shared a bed when I knew her.

I remember Aunty Bar as a very small and thin woman with straw coloured hair and a delicate tremulous voice. I knew her in the 60’s when she was a very kind little old lady who had never got cross about anything.

One night when the drums were very busy her house boy (all black men were called boys) came into her room looking very frightened. Can I hide under your bed Mam he asked.

“Why?” she asked. The drums were sounding very angry that night.

“I am frightened of being dragged away and killed”.

“Will they not rape me an kill me too?”

“No ma’m, You are white goddess. When they see you they will bow and walk out backwards”.

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