He has returned | Read Chapter one: Part 3 of Forest Girl #ComingSoon #PreOrder #AAromance
2 Weeks to release day!
A huge thank you to those who came by the past three weeks to read the excerpts, and especially to all who left me a comment. I hope you enjoy this week's excerpt too.
If you missed the first two posts, here are the links:
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He fell in love with her at first sight,
but didn't recognize her when he saw her again.
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Esi Afriyie has been in love with Michael Yaw Badu since childhood. When he receives a scholarship to study in America, all hope seems lost ... until he returns to Ghana ten years later. An arranged marriage contracted by their families makes her dreams come true, but does the reality of being Mrs. Michael Badu live up to the fantasy?
Michael may have married Esi, but he is in love with someone else—Forest Girl, a mystery woman he encountered just once in the forest. His heart belongs to her, and he doesn't need his beautiful wife awakening his carnal desires. He is even willing to sacrifice his marriage for another encounter with Forest Girl.
Reality is not what either Esi or Michael imagined. Esi is disillusioned; Michael feels trapped.
Will Michael give in and allow his heart to discover a love that was always meant to be, before it's too late?
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(more outlets coming soon)
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(PS. written in UK English)
Here's Chapter one: part three where we meet Esi.
Esi Afriyie entered the kitchen just as her mother and her two
friends were coming out. Giving an apology and a greeting, she stepped aside
and allowed them to pass. Once they were gone, she set down her basket of merchandise
she’d just bought at the market and noticed the three calabashes on the floor,
from which the women had drunk. Picking them up, she washed and replaced them
in their usual places on the shelf.
As she picked up the gourd of palm wine, a smile formed on her
lips. She shook her head. Did Papa know about Mama’s secret stash; one she had
occasionally allowed Esi, and her younger sister, Abena, as well as their
sister-in-law, Agyeiwaa, to taste? Stowing away all incriminating evidence, she
began preparing the ingredient for fufu and groundnut soup.
By the time her mother re-entered the kitchen, the delicious aroma
of steaming bush meat permeated the air. Esi finished preparing the wooden
mortar and pestle with all the other things required to pound the cassava,
plantain, and cocoyam for the fufu.
“I see you’ve washed the calabashes.” Her mother gave her a
conspiratorial wink. “Hasn’t Abena returned from school yet? The shadows are
beginning to stretch.”
“She’s in the backyard feeding the animals.”
The older woman frowned. “She didn’t pass by to greet us.”
Her mother left, calling out to Abena. By the time she returned,
Esi had finished setting up for the next phase of cooking.
“Your sister will take a while,” her mother explained. “Come and
start pounding. As soon as Abena comes, you can continue with the soup while
she takes over from you.”
Esi grabbed the pestle and started pounding the piece of cassava
her mother had placed in the mortar.
As the melodious beat of the pestle against the mortar surrounded
them, Esi remembered a story her mother had told about the preparation of fufu,
one set in the colonial days—at a time when the Whiteman had craved his
homeland, growing interest in knowing a little about the community and the
culture rather than imposing his western ways on them. The colonisers had
questioned the logic behind expending so much energy in pounding the crops when
they could be eaten just boiled. They’d suggested a device be made whereby the
people could prepare fufu without having to pound.
The Ghanaian folk had been quick to oppose the idea, arguing that
the unique harmony of pounding and turning fufu bred unity. There were many who
wouldn’t eat fufu unless they had heard sound of pounding first. So, the
tradition remained a part of the people and promised to stay with them for a
very long time.
“I met Auntie Yaa and Auntie Pokuaa at the market,” Esi said
during a pause while her mother took out the first mound of fufu and placed a
new piece of cassava in the mortar. “They asked me to greet you. I didn’t
realise they were coming here.”
“You know those two like chatting a lot.”
“What news did they have today?”
A frown came across her mother’s face. “Pokuaa said something
which surprised me. She says that girl at Akosua Manu’s house…what’s her name?”
“Akua,” Esi provided, half intending it as a question. She
wondered if her mother had really forgotten the name or avoided it because the
girl was her mother’s namesake.
“Yes, that one. She says the girl has been sneaking out to the small
river to meet a certain young man.”
“Just rumours. Nobody has caught her there before,” Esi said,
laying particular emphasis on caught.
“Bro Kwame hasn’t arrived yet, has he?” Abena entered, wearing a
faded-out dress she’d already outgrown but continued to keep because it was a
favourite. “He usually comes back home before I do.”
“Have you forgotten he went with his wife?” Esi replied. “You know
when they go off to the farm together, they only return after six.”
“Sometimes, I wonder what they do in the farm that they don’t want
those of us at home to see,” their mother said with a coy smile as she broke a
piece of the plantain and popped it into her mouth.
Esi and Abena laughed at their mother’s suggestive comment.
“Where are my grandchildren?” Maame Akua asked Abena.
“They passed by Ma’Afia’s house to play. They’ll be home soon.”
Thus went their conversation as the preparation of food
progressed.
“Agoo,” someone call from outside.
“Amee,” their mother responded. “Come in.”
Esi’s best friend, Mansa, entered.
“Good afternoon, Maame Akua,” she greeted.
“Good afternoon, Mansa. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Auntie,” she replied. “May I borrow Esi for a few
minutes? I won’t keep her long.”
“Abena, come and take over,” their mother said.
Esi handed over the pestle to her sister and checked on the soup
before following her friend outside. She assessed Mansa’s demeanour.
“What is making you smile like that?”
“He has returned,” Mansa announced.
Did you enjoy this excerpt? Please, leave me a comment and remember to come back next week for more.
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