Can you imagine a cooked pig feet jumping out of the soup when it was about to be eaten? Well, that is the experience shared by renowned playwright, James Ebo Whyte.

According to Uncle Ebo, this frightening experience of his mother's fight with a cooked pig feet formed the basis for his latest play, Dear God, Comma!

Read the full presentation on believing as presented on Joy FM's Super Morning Show.

REMEMBERING MOTHER

Written and Presented on SMS on JOY FM on Thursday, May 19, 2016

Last week, in honor of Mother’s Day, I started a three-part series entitled, Remembering Mother. In the first instalment, I talked about how my mother struggled with my introverted nature. I made the point that mothers need to accept the individuality of their children and not try to force them to be the same. In the second instalment, I talked about the values of generosity and kindness that my mother taught me, not by words but by her example. Her example taught me that a giving kind life was better than a greedy self-centered life.

Today, I bring you the final instalment. It is a strange story I have to tell this morning and if you have problems believing it, I will understand because if I had not been a witness to it, I will find it difficult to believe. As you struggle with the story, just remember the words of William Shakespeare in Hamlet, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

My mother loved fufu and light soup. This was one of the things she had in common with my father. My father had to have fufu and light soup every day but I will talk about my father another day. Today, let me focus on my mother and as I was saying, she loved fufu and light soup. And she loved cooking with pig feet (trotters). It was not possible for my mother to cook soup without pig feet. She was almost addicted to it.

Well, one day, when I was in primary class 4 at SDA Primary School at South Suntreso, my mother came home from the market with her younger sister and her two teenage daughters who were all staying with her. They quickly set about preparing supper of fufu and light soup with, as usual pig feet.

When supper was done, my mother served me and my brothers separately and she and her sister and her two nieces ate together from an earthenware bowl which was what my mother preferred to eat fufu from. I was eating from my spot very near to them.

My mother and her sister kept a conversation going whenever they were eating and I loved to eavesdrop on their conversation. This evening they were talking about some of their market colleagues. Then at one point, I heard my mother exclaim, “Oh, look, I have dropped my pig feet.”

I looked in her direction and saw a piece of pig feet on the floor by her leg. We did not have a dining hall; we ate in the open compound and so when that piece of pig feet fell, it fell on the bare floor. Her sister began laughing at her for dropping her meat. But my mother said, “I will not let this pig feet go to waste. I will just clean it up and put it back into the soup.”

I watched as she picked up the piece of pig feet, poured water on it to clean off the dirt and then put it back into the soup. As soon as the fully cooked pig feet hit the soup, it hopped out of it.

My auntie and her daughters jumped from their wooden kitchen stools in shock. They exclaimed, “Auntie Ama, look. The pig feet hopped out of the soup.”

My mother did not scare easily. She was a very feisty woman. She tried to pick the pig feet again and this time, it hopped away from her reach. By now, the screams and shouts of my auntie and her daughters had brought our next door neighbor, Auntie Abena, running to find out what was happening.

My mother finally managed to grab the pig feet. The next door neighbor, Auntie Abena said, “Auntie Ama, please don’t eat it. The meat is jinxed. Throw it away and let it go with its curse.”

My mother agreed. Now, about 50 metres behind our house was a big gutter. It was the drainage from Kwame Nkrumah Estates to the west of South Suntreso.

My mother walked to the drainage and threw the piece of pig feet into it. But as she turned to return to the house, the pig feet again hopped out of the gutter towards her. Everyone exclaimed in amazement and took to their heels. But my mother picked it up again and threw it harder into the gutter and again the piece of cooked pig feet hopped out of the gutter.

Again everyone run towards the house screaming but my mother, a staunch Catholic, made the sign of the cross and started praying. Then she picked the meat again and this time, she shouted to me, “Kobina, bring me a hoe.”

I quickly got her the hoe and she dug a hole, put the pig feet into it, covered it and said, “Kobina, go and look on my dresser. I have a bottle of holy water. Bring it to me.”

Now, the staunch Catholic that she was, my mother always kept a rosary and a bottle of holy water handy.

I dashed to bring her the bottle of holy water. She sprinkled it over the spot where she had buried the meat and said, “Let’s go and finish supper. Whatever this is about cannot match the God who watches over us.”

And that was the last time my mother ate pig feet. Now, the strange part of this was what happened the next day at the market. The woman from whom my mother usually bought her pig feet came to her and said, “Auntie Ama, I am sorry but when you came to buy the pig feet yesterday, I was not there and my daughter who served you sold you a piece of pig feet she should not have sold to you. That piece of pig feet was not for sale.”

You know, things dey.

And this is one of the inspirations behind my latest play, Dear God, Comma. The play explores one of the realities of Ghana that we are all familiar with but we do not want to talk about. Ghana is poor not because of its economy; Ghana is poor because there is a spiritual reality in Ghana that is backward and evil. But thank God there is a different spiritual reality, a better spiritual reality that we can all take refuge in and that is what Dear God, Comma is all about.

When we talk about these things, there are people who say, “I don’t believe in powers of darkness.” To them I say, the powers of darkness do not disappear just because you say you don’t believe they exist. If you don’t believe there is something called gravity, does that make gravity non-existent?

Remember the words of Shakespeare, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

The Apostle Paul put it this way, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6:12.

In Dear God, Comma, I show you one way to overcome these forces of evil because they are defeated forces and should not be permitted to have their way with any of us.

I hope you have enjoyed the series. Stay blessed