GHANA STUDIES / Volumes 12–13 ISSN 1536-5514 / E-ISSN 2333-7168© 2011 by the Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System 285 THERE ARE ALWAYS TWO SIDES TO EVERY STORY VICTORIA AMMA AGYEIWAAH MOFFATT There are always two sides to every story: the side of the teller and that of the reteller. On the one hand, every retelling is transformative until it forms a received, fixed interpretation. On the other, there are those about whom the story is told. Does anyone ever stop to think why they do the things they do? What do they really want? What informs their decisions ? In the end, are they happy? Well, whatever the answers to these questions might be, they have their side of the story to tell as well, along with a multiplicity of characters with their own versions. Reader, you decide what side you choose to chew on; and there may yet be valid sides that we may never touch upon. I Life had not been easy for Baasiwaa up till now. She had lived on the fast lane for too long and she really wanted to tidy up now. Her father had in many words and at several times denounced her as his child, and she needed to belong somewhere. Against her restless self, she thought she would strive to live up to a “standard” now. All her friends and mates, even her juniors were “properly” married and had what seemed to be stable homes. Her younger sisters, despite her “bad example” as the elder, had settled into their matrimonial homes and thus had taken away some of the “shame” she had brought upon their father and the family. People only regarded her now as the recalcitrant one. “You still can’t do anything right even at your age?” Her father intoned often, “and that is exactly why you can’t find yourself a good man to marry.” “You are not the worst fish on the market and you still can’t attract a buyer! I don’t blame those men. What would anyone want to do with a ‘born-two?’ Even their fathers have disposed themselves of you,” he would say pointing 286 Ghana Studies • volumes 12–13 • 2011 dismissively at her children, “and all because you won’t listen when we talk.” “Why should some other decent man want to carry their abandoned baggage?” She had heard this so often she began to believe it. She was no good. How could she be when she had already bore one child before her Ordinary Level School Certificate Exams and another immediately after her Advanced Level Exams? Had her mother not offered to take care of her “irresponsibilities,” she may never have become the teacher that she was. She had tried before to “clean up!” as her mother often advised. It turned out wrong again; leaving her convalescing in a clinic where she had got rid of the unwanted foetus of a man who did not want to keep her, and had just used her to gratify himself. At least, he had recommended a very good clinic and given her the very large amount of money she would need. Then, she met this man. This time she would be careful, she thought to herself. He had also completed Teacher’s College and was working in the same district as her. They often met on the bus and started to share their classroom experiences. One day he alighted at her stop and offered to walk her home. This turned into a routine. Soon, he started to stay a few minutes to chat before walking back alone to the bus stop to continue his journey farther down to his place. The minutes extended into hours and then into supper. One night, he actually slept over since the following day was Saturday and there would be no rush to wake up early and prepare for school. This was two years after the routine had started. So far, she seemed to be playing well at this self-scouring game. During the long vacation, when she went home to see her mother she could not stop talking about him. Finally, her mother...