No Sweetness Here

“Please, Chicha, I always know you are just making fun of me, but please, promise me won’t take Kwesi away with you.”

This is the first of many repetitions of Maami Ama wanting Kwesi by her side, foreshadowing the devastation she will feel when she loses him. Chicha is her friend; Chicha would take good care of Kwesi and only wants to expose him to a good education. Maami Ama is terrified to lose him, but has a gentle and subservient manner even when standing up for herself.

“One’s yams reflect the sum total of one’s life. And mine look wretched enough.”

In this story, imagery is not used solely in the narration. Imagery is used within the dialogue itself a great deal. The community members speak with metaphors, similes, and vivid traditional sayings. In this quote, the imagery is very specific to the people and place. This is an agricultural society, and the people are subsistence farmers. Yams are life. That Maami Ama’s yams do not look good is a metaphor for the overall unhappiness she feels in her life. The ability to grow good yams is also a point of pride; that she has not grown good yams is a further humiliation for her.

“Don’t you think she would [insult me]? Considering I…don’t offer to give her the best fish from my soup like her daughters-in-law do?”

This is the only reason Maami Ama can offer for why her mother-in-law dislikes her, and it is a revealing one, suggesting that daughters-in-law are expected to pay deference to female in-laws, especially their mothers-in-law. Maami speculates that her mother-in-law might dislike her because Maami’s deference does not extend to depriving herself of food. Given limited power, Maami Ama’s mother-in-law is determined to exert it to the fullest, and that means cruelly dominating anyone she is permitted to. Maami’s reference to her “daughters-in-law” refers to Kodjo Fi’s other wives.

“Chicha, our people say a bad marriage kills the soul. Mine is fit for burial.”

This is another example of vivid imagery used in the dialogue. Maami employs a traditional village metaphor to describe her unhappy life to Chicha. Using imagery of death to describe her soul, Maami’s fate of tragedy and loss is foreshadowed.

“Well, I would struggle, for my son is my father’s child but he belongs to my family.”

This quote refers to another aspect of the unique clanship ties and family structures in traditional Ghanaian society. Here, Maami refers to the blood links a child possesses and which blood links people value. Kwesi belongs to the mother’s family, but is the father’s child——thus, a number of people have claims on him, and he is much desired and fought over. Maami is asserting a right to Kwesi, but not on her own behalf.

“She went to the basket, took out some cassava and plantain, and began peeling them.”

The conversation between Chicha and Maami Ama makes up a large portion of the story. In order to keep the reader’s attention and make the scene flow more smoothly, Ama Ata Aidoo breaks up the dialogue with specific actions. This paints the scene more clearly in the reader’s mind. Maami Ama is a humble subsistence farmer, who must work hard, grow her own food, and then prepare it. Such a clear, simple, and specific action shows the reader that Maami Ama’s life is full of hard work. Such hard work is unceasing, and she must work even while speaking to her friend.

“Life has taught me to be brave.”

Maami is not a striking or remarkable woman. Nevertheless, she has dealt with a terrible husband and family situation and raised only one child (a tragedy for her). Leaving her abusive husband has brought her gossip, shame, and scandal. She is now daring to finalize the divorce, which she knows will lead to more gossip, the hatred of his family, and a punishing divorce settlement, because she wants the chance to be happy. She is going against her culture in many ways and it marks her as brave.

“Mama, here I am […] I am hungry.”

These are the only words Kwesi speaks in the story. Unlike the vivid language employed by adult villagers, this is very simple language and diction. They are also words typical of any child on arriving home from school. Kwesi speaks in such simple, basic childhood language during his brief appearance so that readers can see what the villagers never do: that Kwesi is neither an object nor an angel, just a typical child.

“‘Why not? He is a happy child.’ ‘Does that solve the problem?’”

Repetition of various elements throughout the story is a deliberate stylistic choice by Aidoo. A rhetorical question posed that goes unanswered by the characters evokes a sense of foreboding in the reader; doing so multiple times increases that tension. Kwesi is also once again reduced to a basic and unspecific quality, a “happy child.” By repeating these elements, Aidoo heightens the readers’ awareness of them.

“No. Yaa, I did not forget…She had no brothers to whom I would give the [Knife] Fee.”

These are Kodjo Fi’s only words in the story. They are said after the divorce proceedings. He is speaking to his sister. In his single appearance, the reader sees that Maami Ama is correct and that he listens to his female family and favors them over her. Maami Ama loses some of the money she might otherwise be entitled to because, according to tradition, she cannot receive it herself.

“Kodjo Fi’s mother shouted at her, ‘you are hurt. But that is what you deserve. We will get the child. We will! What did you want to do with him?’ Maami Ami turned round to look at her. ‘What are you putting yourself to so much trouble for? When Nana Kum said the boy ought to go and stay with his father, did I make any objection?’ These words were said quietly.”

Once again, a female in-law is insulting and abusing Maami. But this time, the abuse is as pointless as it is cruel: They do not need to “get” the child, for she has allowed him to go. The final sentence, “These words were said quietly,” emphasizes the softness of Maami’s response. She has done what she had to do in ending the marriage. She knows that she is being treated unjustly, but she can do nothing to change it and has given up fighting. Now that the time has come, she is deeply hurt to be forced to give up Kwesi.

“‘What are they quarreling about now?’ ’Each is accusing the other of having been responsible for the boy’s death.’”

Even now, the two families that laid claim to Kwesi cannot stop arguing over his corpse. Maami, his caretaker, is removed from these quarrels: these are just the two opposing powerful groups unable to accept that while they have not lost, they have not beaten the other team.

“I did not feel like going to bed. I did not feel like doing anything at all.”

Throughout the story, the reader gets almost no insight into Chicha’s feelings. She is a detached observer. Here, the reader sees that Chicha is detached even from herself. She does not know how to articulate the grief she feels for Kwesi. Chicha, who is always in motion, simply stops. Her language here is indicative of this shift: She does not know what to do.