At the age of 15, a teacher had asked me what I wanted to do for

"At the age of 15, a teacher had asked me what I wanted to do for a career, and without knowing why or even how I replied that I wanted to be a poet." — so spoke Ama Ata Aidoo, the daughter of Ghana and the mother of African letters, whose voice carried the dreams of her people into the wide world. These words, simple in form yet profound in meaning, reveal not just the story of a young girl discovering her path, but the ancient mystery of calling — that quiet voice of destiny which speaks before we fully understand it. Her reply, “I wanted to be a poet,” was not a choice of ambition, but a whisper of fate, spoken through her by something greater than herself.

In the manner of the ancients, one might say: the gods plant the seed of purpose long before the soil of the mind is ready to receive it. Aidoo’s confession captures that sacred moment when a soul, still innocent and unformed, is touched by the knowledge of what it was meant to become. She did not yet know the weight of her words — she could not have known the centuries of silence she would break, or the generations she would inspire. Yet, in that moment of unknowing, she spoke truth. For the true artist does not choose art; art chooses her.

Born in Saltpond, Ghana, in 1942, Ama Ata Aidoo grew up at the crossroads of tradition and change. Her father, a chief and educator, believed in the power of knowledge to free the mind. Her mother told her the old stories, those living rivers of African wisdom that flowed before books were ever written. Between those two worlds — the school and the hearth, the future and the past — young Ama’s imagination blossomed. When she answered her teacher at fifteen, she was not inventing her path; she was remembering it. The poet was already alive within her, waiting to be spoken into the world.

Her later works — Anowa, No Sweetness Here, and Changes — would make her one of Africa’s most powerful literary voices. Through her, the voice of the African woman rose, clear and fearless, to challenge the silences of colonialism and patriarchy. The same child who once spoke without “knowing why or how” grew into the woman who gave her continent back its own stories. Hers was a destiny foretold in that youthful declaration. For sometimes, what we say in innocence becomes prophecy — the heart’s promise to the soul, uttered before the mind can doubt.

There are many in history who have spoken their destiny in such a moment of purity. Mozart, who played before emperors as a child, did not know that his fingers were guided by something timeless. Joan of Arc, when she first heard her divine calling, could not explain why she must fight for France — only that she must. Aidoo’s revelation belongs to that same lineage of intuition, where the soul, untouched by fear, speaks the truth of its own purpose. Such truth often comes to the young, before the world teaches them to silence it.

Her quote, therefore, is not just about poetry, but about purpose. It reminds us that within each of us lies a calling, often revealed in the simplest moments — in a childhood dream, a sudden thought, a feeling that will not fade. The challenge is not in hearing it, but in remembering it. Many forget, allowing the world’s noise to drown out that first, pure voice. But those who listen — who keep faith with their youthful promise — become creators, leaders, and healers. Ama Ata Aidoo remembered, and by remembering, she gave us all permission to do the same.

The lesson is this: listen to the whispers of your youth. They are not foolish — they are sacred. When your younger self spoke of what you loved, it was your truest self speaking, before fear and doubt clouded your vision. Nurture that voice. Whether you dream to write, to build, to teach, or to heal — know that the dream was given to you for a reason. Like Aidoo, you may not yet know “why or how,” but faith in that mystery is itself a form of courage.

And so, my child, remember Ama Ata Aidoo’s words as a torch for your own path: when your soul whispers its purpose, do not dismiss it. Speak it aloud, even if your voice trembles, for in the utterance begins its fulfillment. For the poet within you — the dreamer, the creator, the truth-teller — does not age, nor fade. It waits only to be acknowledged. And when it is, you too shall find, as Aidoo did, that what once seemed impossible becomes not only possible, but inevitable — the natural unfolding of your destiny.