Many in the audience rose to their feet, solemnly applauding in support as Selorm bawled for a few moments in the arms of the gentleman who had rushed on stage to support her. They knew how painful it was to relive such a horrific memory, yet they admired her strength and determination to soldier on. Some knew they wouldn’t have had the courage to share a story like this.
The gentleman held tightly as she wept, the pain of those memories striking her in the gut. The audience simply remained standing, with solemn faces all around, some tear-stained, showing solidarity for Miss Logan.
After a while, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes, whispering into the ears of the gentleman holding her. Nodding, he stood behind her as she returned to the podium.
“I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” she apologized. “I wasn’t supposed to break down like that. I sincerely apologize…”
The audience collectively shook their heads, the general murmur one of insistence that she need not apologize.
She smiled wistfully. “Oh well, once you say so. So, uh… what more can I say? I don’t know how I got through it. I think at a point, I must have lost my mind, because I truly don’t remember how I got through the funeral. All I remember is hating myself to the max for all that I said. It was a horrible time for me. The guilt and the grief… oh, God, the guilt and the grief…
“I honestly thought there was no way out. I couldn’t forgive myself. I just couldn’t…
*
Selorm shook her head as she took her place on the chair.
The memories just would not go away.
Their mother’s last words… their final fight… those terrible words she screamed at him before he left the house… the sight of his lifeless corpse in the 37 Military Hospital… they just wouldn’t stop reverberating around her cranium. They came at her with a vicious force, reminding her just how this was all her fault.
How she was nothing but a grisly, despicable murderer.
She closed her eyes as she readied herself for the action she was about to take. Three months in, and she couldn’t be any lower than she already was. Nothing really mattered to her. Suddenly, she felt there was no reason to live.
Pastors had spoken to her, family members and friends had done their best to console her, telling her to stay strong and not give up, but the guilt and the sorrow had eaten away at her soul too deep.
There was no fight left in her. This was it.
I’m sorry I disappointed you, Ma. And I’m sorry I insulted and cursed you so badly, Worlanyo. I don’t wanna do this anymore. I’m calling it quits.
She readied herself.
About to step off the chair…
Just a few seconds left…
Then the door swung open.
And in rushed a gentleman and a lady, panicking at the sight of her.
“Jesus! Get her down, get her down!” the lady screamed.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” Selorm wailed in frustration. “DON’T COME NEAR ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!”
The gentleman, unperturbed by her screams, quickly made his way onto the chair and loosened the rope before she could do any damage. The lady nearby had her hands on her head, relieved but frightened at what almost transpired.
In that moment, Selorm cursed the idea of writing that note, much less placing it out in the open. Whoever this man and woman were, they had caught a hold of it too quickly. Now her plan had failed.
“LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME GO! LEAVE ME ALONE! LET GO OF ME!” Selorm screamed rabidly as the man took her off the chair. “WHY DID YOU SAVE ME? YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT ME ALONE!”
“Please, my sister,” he pleaded, “I know you’re hurting, but-“
“LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME DIE!” Selorm screamed even louder, pummeling him with her fists. “I JUST WANNA DIE! I JUST WANNA DIE…”
Her screams of angry drying out, she burst into loud wailing cries, screaming with everything in her. The gentleman and the lady immediately held her tightly, whispering all the words of comfort they could think of.
“It’s alright, my sister, it’s alright…”
“We’re here for you, my dear. We’re here for you…”
*
Selorm wiped her eyes once again, the memories of that awful night hitting her hard. The audience sat in silence, awestruck by this revelation. Some had tears in their eyes, others had their hands over their mouths.
This was beyond amazing, but not entirely shocking.
“It was another one of the lowest points of my life,” she whispered, her voice breaking once more. “I cast my mind back to that day, and all I can remember is how angry I was with Sergeant Theo and his wife for saving me. Because in that moment, death was the only thing that made sense to me. After failing my mother like that… I didn’t feel like I deserved to live.”
“But, as I stand here now, I know it was God at work when He made that note fly away from that window into their path, and turned their small romantic walk into a saving mission. Please, ladies and gentlemen, can you help me celebrate my saviours for that fateful night. Chief Superintendent Theophilus Awuni and his wife, Raquel Awuni!”
A loud round of applause erupted as the police officer and his wife rose to their feet to receive the accolades. Selorm nodded at them, the gratitude palpable in her eyes.
As they sat down and the applause died out, she continued. “Aunty Martha was out at the time, so you can imagine her shock at what she saw and heard. It wasn’t easy in the house. At the time, she was angry that I did what I did and wanted to lambast me. But Chief Superintendent and his wife took her aside and made her know that anger wouldn’t help my cause at all. That with all the guilt inside me, judgment was the last thing I needed. It took a while, but eventually, she gave in. And thanks to some unlearning and relearning, at least that stigma is dead and buried.
“I was still drowning in so much guilt and self-anger. A few days spent with me, and Raquel suggested I see a therapist. I remember scoffing at the idea of it, thinking there was nothing in there that would help me. Some gentle encouraging here and there, and chale, I eventually decided to give it a try.
“I still remember how my first day went. It was more emotional than I would have expected…”
*
In the calm and serene office of therapist Abigail Ofori, Selorm sat on the edge of a comfortable chair, her eyes cast downward, still grappling with the weight of her guilt.
Abigail, serving as a compassionate and understanding presence, sat across from her. She began gently. “Selorm, I know it’s not easy, but opening up about your feelings can be the first step toward healing. I’m here to listen without judgment.”
Selorm, still hesitant, fidgeted with her hands, struggling to find the appropriate words. “It’s just… it’s so hard. I don’t know how else to say it, but… I-I can’t shake off this guilt. I… I feel like I’m drowning in it…”
She trailed off.
Abigail nodded empathetically. “It’s okay, Selorm, take your time,” she encouraged gently. “Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”
After a few moments of silence, a heavy sigh escaped Selorm’s lips, and she stared at Abigail. “So what if I don’t say anything?”
Abigail smiled, an ever-gentle disposition emanating from her. “This is your first session. It doesn’t matter. I’m here to help you find healing from your pain. Until then, I’m right here for you.”
Another sigh escaping her lips, Selorm bowed her head. She began to speak, her voice laden with sorrow. “My… my brother. My brother Worlanyo and I, we…we had this unnecessary fight. A stupid, unnecessary fight. I said the most horrible things to him… things I didn’t mean, things I don’t mean. Later that day, he… he got into this horrible accident. It was all because of our stupid fight, and now he’s gone.”
Tears welled up in Selorm’s eyes as she recalled the painful memories. No matter what, they just couldn’t lose their sting.
Abigail maintained a calm and supportive demeanor. “And how do you feel right now? What emotions do you feel inside you?”
“Guilt! Guilt, Abigail, guilt! I can’t shake off the guilt, I just can’t. I can’t forgive myself. I killed my own brother! I’m a murderer! A terrible murderer,” Selorm blurted out, her voice breaking.
Abigail leaned forward and spoke with a soothing tone, “Selorm, you are not a murderer. Grief can be overwhelming, and it’s natural to feel a range of strong emotions in the wake of this tragedy. But it’s important to realize that you can’t blame yourself for everything.”
“How do I not blame myself? Huh, tell me how! I spoke rudely to my brother when all he did was to just remind me of my task. I insulted him. Provoked him to hit me with the mop, then struck his head with an empty Raid insecticide can. I watched him walk away and I told him he could die for all I cared! How can I not blame myself? I did this, okay, I did this! I’m a terrible, selfish human being! My mother told me to take care of him, and I screwed it up, and now he’s dead! He’s dead! All because of me! He’s dead… he’s dead… oh, Worlanyo… Worlanyo, I’m sorry… I’m sorryyyyy…”
The dam of emotions had burst open. Tears streamed down her face as her cries become louder.
Abigail, recognizing the need for comfort, moved closer and gently embraced Selorm, assuring her she was releasing all those pent-up emotions in a safe and supportive environment.
“Let it out, Selorm. You’re not alone, and your feelings are valid,” Abigail reassured, offering a comforting presence in the midst of Selorm’s emotional storm.
In that moment, the therapeutic journey began, guided by Abigail’s compassion and Selorm’s willingness to confront the pain that has lingered within her so strongly, it almost drove her to the grave…
*
“More than half a year went by. It was one long and arduous journey. But she stuck with me through it all. My tantrums, my blame game sessions… everything. Abigail was there. No judgment, no rebuke… just providing me with a place where I could deal with my pain and try to heal from it. Ladies and gentlemen, please show some love to my therapist!”
A round of applause rang throughout the hall as Abigail rose to her feet.
“It was tough. The guilt did it all could to keep its grip on me. Healing sometimes felt like it was never gonna come. But… little by little, it came through. And by the grace of God, I can assure you that I’m almost there. It may have been over a decade since it all happened, but I’m getting there.”
The audience clapped with delight.
Straightening up, Selorm smiled, this time without any wistfulness. “And, I can safely say this to the glory of the Lord, that it was in one of those sessions that I discovered my purpose. In the form of seeking a way to honour these two precious people I lost…”
*
“Selorm, finding a meaningful way to honor your mother and brother’s memory is a beautiful idea,” Abigail stated warmly. “What are some of the things you’ve considered?”
Selorm sighed. “Well… I’ve been thinking a lot about it, but I just don’t know where to start. I want to do something significant, something that, you know, resonates with their spirits.”
Abigail nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, okay. It could be a personal ritual, a memorial, or perhaps contributing to a cause they cared about. Have you considered any specific areas of interest?”
Selorm pondered on it for a moment or two. Then a spark of inspiration lit up her eyes. “Music! Music is an idea. Ma loved singing, and Worlanyo was always humming tunes. Maybe something related to music?”
Abigail smiled warmly and nodded. “That’s a wonderful idea, Selorm. Music has quite a powerful way of touching hearts and connecting people. It can be a powerful tribute. Have you considered any particular musical avenue?”
Selorm contemplated for a while before an idea emerged from the depths of her mind. “I’ve always enjoyed the prospect of choirs, to be honest. There’s always been something about them that just attracts me. What if I start a choir in their memory?”
Abigail’s eyes lit up in response as she nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a grand idea, Selorm. A choir can be a beautiful way to celebrate their love for music and create a positive legacy. However, you should keep in mind that starting and leading a choir requires a lot of dedication and you’ll need to obtain some qualifications. Are you prepared for the commitment?”
Selorm’s face reflected a determined passion as she responded. “Absolutely, Abigail. I’ll do whatever it takes. I want to honor them in a way that reflects the love and joy they brought into my life.”
Abigail nodded approvingly. “Very well. Starting a choir can be a meaningful journey. It’ll take a whole lot of work, but with dedication, I believe it can become a beautiful tribute to your mother and brother. Just remember, I’m here to support you through this process.”
*
“And from that moment onwards, it became like a fire shut up in my bones. So I did the needful. By the help of some sponsors, I got the chance to study Music at Middlesex University in the UK, went ahead and pursued my Masters at the Royal College of Music, then returned to Ghana to carry out my plan.
“Now that was easier said than done. My idea was met with skepticism and doubt by some of the people I went to see for support. Some of them questioned the feasibility of such an endeavour and told me I was wasting my time. One man told me I’d be better off getting myself a store and just sell provisions.”
The audience hummed in disapproval of the words of whoever that man was.
“Of course, I wasn’t moved. I kept pushing, kept going round. Eventually, I met the incredible Mercy, who was sold out to the vision instantly. She came on board, and in no time flat, we started a choir. But that one too came with plenty headaches. From grappling with limited resources to struggling to secure funding and venues for rehearsals, it was quite a headache. And the biggest one? Finding committed and talented members. Seriously, bringing them together was such a nightmare sometimes, with some of them living far away from Accra and all. I remember some nights where Mercy and I would complain about how tough this thing was.
“Then one day, our one and only Brother Stonewall came through with a plan…”
“Stoooooooonewalllllllll!” rose the accolade among certain sections of the hall. Selorm laughed.
“Our beloved voice trainer, ladies and gentlemen. One day, as we met, this man just said to us, ‘Do you know you’re wasting your time chasing these people with the so-called talent and all? Chale, let’s find people who have the passion to sing, bring them on board, and I’ll train them.’ It sounded so crazy to us, but we were getting a bit angsty with how things were going, so we agreed.
“And then we started recruiting the young ones. I remember Raila, Daphne, Nina, Benji, Naana… the first major recruits. Brother Stonewall took them in, trained them. We took them to a church program, and they sang ‘My Help’ so beautifully, the grownups present asked if their kids could join the choir.
“And we have kept going from strength to strength, and indeed, Ebenezer! This is how far the Lord has brought us!”
This is beautiful! Thank God for that policeman and his wife, they really did the world a favour by saving her. Let’s wrap this up on the triumphant note it’s heading to…
