It started from here: The Day I Let My Hair Down. Then, it took this turn, thanks to Akuvi Aguedze: The Day I Let My Hair Down (Part II). Today, I present to you the story according to Rosemond Nyansafo.


“Speak of the devil”, I said under my breath and peered into his soul with the most judgemental look I could imagine myself giving him.


“Yes mum, it’s him.”

“You mean it’s the same Bobby who comes patrolling here like a guardian angel?” I asked with a sting of surprise and anger in my voice.

“Yes mum”, Dinah affirmed for the second time.

“But Baby tell me what happened? How did this nightmare begin? And why is Uncle Bobby in the picture?”

“Mum ermmm…” Dinah stammered looking for the right words to say to me. I am sure her sudden speech impediment came from the look of worry and despair she saw in my eyes.

“Sweetheart, relax and narrate everything to me, OK’?” I coaxed handing her a tissue.

Dinah blew her nose loudly mimicking a baby elephant learning how to trumpet. I could tell that the story she was about narrating was not a good one. Her countenance was laden with disappointments and pain. I wondered what the repercussion would be though I did not have the full gist. What would I do to the idiot of a man called Bobby? And how would this affect the relationship I had built with my daughter over the past years.

The video was rapturous. My past was disastrous. I never quite expected that it would follow me this long into the future and sting me so badly. But why now, I thought. When everything seemed calm. I had successfully built a stable family with my daughter and with the promotion at work, we were going to take off. I could pay for her university education and see her accomplish her dream of becoming a lawyer.

Why was the past so cruel? Why did not stay where it belong – in the past? Why? Why me? And what did I do wrong?

Dinah only stared at me. I could see her brokenness in her eyes. Everything I had given her –life, a sense of security, wellbeing and hope – was dissipating quickly. I shed a tear. Seeing my daughter in that state reminded me of a letter she left on the table for me one day.

“If God were human, mum, he would be you”, it read.

The letter made me feel special when I read the first time. Remembering it at this time however stripped me off every feeling of honour. I was no close to God. I was hopeless and helpless. I needed God in that moment more than ever to save my daughter and me.

Dinah came closer and wrapped her shaky arms around me. I looked at my teenage daughter who had been my source of inspiration and I burst out into more tears.

“Oh Kojo, where are you?” I called out the name of my ex-husband. “This is all your fault. If you had not left us, none of this would have happened”. I said as if he was in front of me.

“Take it easy, mum”. Dinah encouraged. “We’re hurt. We are down but we will be fine”.

I nodded and wiped the mucus threatening to fall from my nostrils. Dinah wiped the tears which had gathered in my eyes with the back of her hand. I noticed that instead of the tears looking colourless, they looked as black as soot. Probably because of the mascara I had applied earlier.

“Dinah, I still want to know. How did this happen? How did Bobby lay hands on this video and how did he make another with you?”

Dinah had her composure back. She did not hesitate this time around and started answering my questions. “Mum, do you remember…”

Before Dinah could complete her statement, there was a loud knock on the door. I offered to see who it was. Lo and behold, clothed in his usual tight jacket and oversized trousers with his belt missing one belt hole and engulfed in that scented Italian perfume which had now become a part of him. There he was; the best friend to my late husband, our family doctor and a man I had just begun to loathe.


“Speak of the devil”, I said under my breath and peered into his soul with the most judgemental look I could imagine myself giving him.


To be continued by Eben Ace.