It was Sunday, 17th day of January. I was escorting a group of first timers who visited our church to the church foyer. “Akorfa! Akorfa!” I heard someone call my name with so much urgency, so I turned to find out who it was. The look on her face and the urgency in her voice sent a chill down my body. Her eyes were on my white trousers. My knees felt weak. Why are her eyes fixed on my back side? Was my white trousers stained with blood? “Impossible, I comforted myself.” It was only a few days ago when I served sentence of my monthly blood flow.
I was still brainstorming. What could it be? “Akorfa, don’t move, you need to sit down” the caller added again. Huh? I thought to myself, “why should I sit down when I’m welcoming and escorting the people who had just visited us at church?”
“You’re almost naked.”
My heart! It was at this moment I realized what could be happening. I wanted to vanish immediately.
“Your white panty is visible. It can be seen through your white trousers. So when you were welcoming the guests in front of the church, I was just hoping you finish quickly.”
It’s been three days of working, chatting with friends, scrolling social media, writing content, eating, bathing and sleeping. But each time the incidence flashes my mind, I freeze, and occasionally, I scream eeeeeeeeiiii!!!!!
I woke up that Sunday morning 30 minutes late for service. I quickly bath, dressed up and left for church. I was in a hurry. On my way, I greeted the woman who was sweeping under the mango tree in the neighborhood. She responded, paused with a contagious smile and asked how I was doing. I responded in the affirmative and kept walking. Soon, I walked past two gentlemen just before I I got to the taxi rank. I waited for about 5 minutes before a taxi finally came my way. I sat in the taxi and in about 7 minutes, we got to the junction that led to my destination. I alighted and walked past the early morning waakye and koko buyers at the junction.
Finally, I was at the church premises. As always, I moved to the washroom to wear my heels. I wrapped up my slippers into a bag and placed it in a safe place. Then, I moved to wash my hands with soap and water. Praises and worship time was over when I got there. Next, I was ushered to my seat.
It’s been a week since the incidence and each time I remember, I wonder if none of the people I encountered on my way to church or even those who sat close to me never saw me.
Maybe they simply didn’t watch my butts. Maybe!
What did you do the last time you found out something was wrong with the dressing of a stranger?