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| Kwadwo and Abrefi in an emotional posture and stare |
Part Two: The Seed of Trouble
The mango tree at the edge of the school compound was more than shade; it was a parliament of teenage voices. Here, Abena Abrefi Kotor and her friends gathered after classes, their laughter mixing with the rustle of leaves. Each girl carried her own rhythm, her own philosophy of life.
Blessing Agyakowaa, Abrefi’s closest confidante, was the voice of reason. She spoke with calm authority, her words often sounding like proverbs.
“Abrefi,” she said one afternoon, “ɔdɔ yɛ dɛ, na ɛyɛ yaw. Love is sweet, but it is pain. Don’t let pressure turn your dreams into nightmares.”
Beside her, Rohi nodded, adding in street tongue:
“Girl, school be your ticket. Boys dey today, tomorrow dem go vanish. Certificate no dey vanish.”
Blessing Egyiri chimed in, her tone sharp but caring.
“Look, Abrefi, pregnancy no be fashion accessory. You fit carry baby, but can you carry the shame, the struggle?”
And Comfort Quainoo, the gentle one, whispered:
“Think of your parents. They dey hustle for your fees. Don’t let them cry because of your choices.”
The advice was good, layered with wisdom and affection. But Abrefi’s ears were tuned elsewhere. She was listening to Portia Asamoah, the girl with flashy nails and a tongue dipped in honey. Portia’s counsel was different — seductive, dangerous.
“Abrefi, forget these old women talk,” Portia said, rolling her eyes. “Love be enjoyment. Sugar daddy dey wait. He go buy you iPhone, pay your fees, even take you go Dubai. You dey here dey suffer with chalk and blackboard. Me, I no dey suffer oo. I dey chop life.”
The words struck Abrefi like a spell. She felt torn between the poetic warnings of her true friends and the sweet promises of Portia. Suspense hung in the air like mixed scented vapour.
Meanwhile, in the ghetto, Kwadwo Kurantse was facing his own parliament of voices. His best friends, Sampson Kwao and Amos Asare, were loyal companions. Sampson was the dreamer, always encouraging Kurantse to rise above the hustle.
“Kurantse, you get talent. Stop dey waste am. One day, you fit turn your jokes into money. Don’t let street swallow you.”
Amos, more practical, added:
“Bro, Abrefi be good girl. If you want her, you for change. Hustle clean, not dirty. Life no be only survival; e be dignity too.”
But not all voices were pure. The bad friends — Daniel Owusu, nicknamed “Law,” and Justice, whose name was irony itself — whispered temptations.
“Forget school girls,” Daniel sneered. “Sugar daddy dey chop them. You dey here dey dream. Hustle hard, scam small, chop quick.”
Justice laughed, his voice dripping with mischief. “Kurantse, love no dey feed stomach. Money dey. If you no get am, you be clown.”
The irony of friendship was clear: good advice wrapped in struggle; bad advice wrapped in glamour. Kurantse stood at the crossroads, humour masking his confusion.
“Me deɛ, life be like trotro. Some dey pay full fare, some dey dodge mate. But we all dey go Circle,” he joked, earning laughter but hiding his unease.
Back under the mango tree, Abrefi’s dilemma deepened. Blessing Agyakowaa tried again, her voice trembling with urgency.
“Abrefi, listen. Peer pressure be like fire. It can cook food or burn house. Don’t let it burn you.”
But Portia’s words were louder in her heart.
“Girl, enjoyment no dey wait. Sugar daddy dey knock. You go chop life or you go chop chalk?”
The dialogue was a tug of war, humour clashing with seriousness, oxymorons dancing in the air. Abrefi felt herself slipping, her innocence cracking under the weight of promises.
That evening, she walked home, her bewildered mind is a battlefield. Flashbacks of childhood innocence haunted her — playing ampe, dreaming of becoming a lawyer, hearing her mother’s prayers. Yet Portia’s counsel echoed louder: “Dubai, iPhone, enjoyment.”
Weeks passed. Abrefi’s laughter grew quieter, her steps slower. She skipped classes, claiming headaches. Her friends noticed, whispering among themselves. Blessing Agyakowaa confronted her gently.
“Abrefi, you dey change. Tell me the truth.”
Abrefi looked away, tears threatening.
“Blessing… I think I’m pregnant.”
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| Abrefi in tears while being consoled by her friends |
Portia smirked, her voice dripping with false reassurance.
“Pregnancy no be end of life. Why you forget Regina Daniels? Sugar daddy go handle am. You go dey fine, make you nor worry too much.”
But the others knew the storm had arrived. The seed of trouble had grown into reality.
Meanwhile, Kurantse heard the rumours in the ghetto. His humour faltered, replaced by dread.
“O boy,” he muttered in street tongue, “street be drum. The beat dey sweet, but sometimes e dey kill.”
The investigative undertone sharpened. The ghetto was not just noise; it was evidence, clues, warnings. Every laugh carried a secret, every promise carried a trap. Kurantse saw the signs, but could he act?
Abrefi lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. Her dreams of becoming a lawyer blurred into the reality of motherhood. The oxymoron of her life was clear: “innocent but guilty, hopeful but hopeless.”
Suspense lingered in the air like smoke from roasted corn. The ghetto was watching, waiting. Kurantse’s humour, Abrefi’s innocence, and the whispers of her friends were all threads in a story that was only beginning.
The pregnancy was the climax, the turning point. And soon, it would set the stage for the arrival of the Sugar Daddy, whose proposal would shake the foundations of Abrefi’s world.
SUMMARY
📖 Story Outline: “Kurantse & Kotor: Love in the Shadows”
Part 1: The Ghetto Symphony
- Introduce Kwadwo Kurantse, a hustler from the ghetto, full of street wisdom and comic one-liners.
- His world is painted with oxymorons: “rich in poverty, free in chains.”
- Enter Abena Abrefi Kotor, the pretty schoolgirl with dreams bigger than her textbooks.
- Humorous banter between them sets the tone, sprinkled with Akan proverbs and Ga slang.
- Suspense begins as Abrefi’s friends pressure her into “living fast” — the investigative undertone hints at peer influence and hidden dangers.
Part 2: The Seed of Trouble
- Flashbacks of Abrefi’s innocent childhood contrast with her present teenage pregnancy dilemma.
- Dialogue-heavy scenes with her friends, full of puns and irony: “Ɛyɛ enjoyment anaa entrapment?”
- Investigative narration explores how societal pressures, gossip, and lack of guidance shape her choices.
- Kurantse reacts with humour masking pain, dropping witty lines like: “Me deɛ, life be like kenkey — hard outside, soft inside.”
- Suspense builds as rumours spread in the community.
Source - Societal vibz creative desk