For almost a century the two families were natural enemies, representing a war between classes, the people versus privilege, both units occupying the same space while resenting each other for it. Yaa’s family served the people where they could, creating jobs and benefits where the government lacked, while Kofi’s family begrudged Yaa’s for stirring up the common people and for awakening disillusionment towards the ruling classes. However, by the generation of Yaa and Kofi’s parents, the animosity weakened as Yaa’s family’s position in society strengthened and became sedentary. The families soon found a tentative closeness, bound by power and proximity. By the time Yaa and Kofi were born – within the same year, both to be only children – the two families had become allies and, ostensibly, friends, sharing beach houses and ambitions.
Ever since Yaa could remember, she had been affectionately known as ‘Little Wife’ to Kofi’s family. Since Kofi’s father’s death, he called Yaa’s father ‘Pa’。 The two families recognised that their best chance at continuing （and controlling） their respective legacies was to merge into one. So, Kofi and Yaa attended the same schools and, when they came of age – through nurture rather than nature – the two saw their relationship mature into romance. Save for the three years they’d split for university, when they pragmatically agreed to break up in order to eventually be better partners to each other – Yaa’s idea, which Kofi eagerly agreed to – they’d always been together. It was never truly a friendship, but an understanding. A partnership. They complemented each other. Kofi had studied law and Yaa studied politics and business. Now, already a successful lawyer, Kofi had started formulating his campaign strategy to be the youngest councillor in the district, which in turn would set him steady on the path to be the youngest regional minister, while Yaa ran the CSR division of her family’s company. Her plan was to work closely with Kofi – within the political role of his wife – to encourage the development of social relief measures. Yaa made Kofi more accessible to the common people. Kofi had the legacy and Yaa had the ideas. They were a team and they balanced each other. Kofi and Yaa, Yaa and – well, it was never Yaa and Kofi. It was Kofi and Yaa. Kofi’s identity flowing into Yaa’s, a fact that was entrenched and manifested physically in the couple’s portmanteau sobriquet, which was typed below glossy hi-res pictures of them together at galas: Kofiyaa. They were the literal poster couple; young, thriving, in love and successful. Beautiful, aspirational, picture perfect.
Kofi’s mother spoke about her grandchildren, as if they’d already been born; of how they would be a blend of Kofi’s mind and Yaa’s looks, with, perhaps, Kofi’s family’s colouring, which she would add in with an impassive smile. Yaa, after all, had the deep sun-steeped skin of an ambitious market woman. Yaa didn’t mind, because she knew that Kofi’s mother needed to believe that Kofi brought more to their partnership. Though their families were now, technically, societally equalised and despite all amicability, Kofi’s family was still Kofi’s family. Their alliance with Yaa’s family had been a tactical necessity and was a bid to retain their throne. Years of authoritative positioning laced their blood with an elitism that meant his mother needed to assert that Yaa needed Kofi more than Kofi needed her. Yaa allowed her the small grace of letting her believe it. In many ways it was a compliment, for Yaa was proof that you could be more than a charm on a man’s arm used to sweeten deals, or a tincture that made men seem softer, evidence of heart. Yaa could ignore Kofi’s mother telling her that there were creams she could use to ‘heighten’ her skin, as she would supposedly be even more beautiful with ‘some of the sun lifted out’， because of the objective fact that Yaa had always gotten all the top prizes in school over Kofi. At political events, she was the one whose brain wanted to be picked, who engaged in debates that disturbed men enough for them to be both fearful and impressed. She knew this made the old lady uncomfortable – it agitated what she knew to be the norm, destabilised her contentment. And so Yaa allowed Kofi’s mother her futile barbs. It didn’t matter either way. Their futures were fused. The knowledge that she and Kofi were meant to be together wasn’t so much imparted to Yaa, but built into her, and then enshrined as the only world she knew. It became intrinsic to her thought processes, vital to how she strategised her life and career. Yaa acknowledged her power but also saw that partnership with Kofi amplified it. She recognised that he helped the world open up to her.