Mercy and Me: New Town Sheroes 

Mercy and Me: New Town Sheroes 

Acrylic on Canvas 

In the midday hush of a schoolyard, under neem trees whispering with filtered light, a group of girls gathers in playful conversation. One of them pauses, her gaze meeting the viewer’s—wide-eyed, warm, expectant. She is Mercy. And she reminds me why I paint, and why I teach. 

This piece is rooted in my work as a volunteer public health educator. It captures the exact moment I began to understand just how much a simple conversation—about the female body, about boundaries, about girlhood—can change the course of a life. 

Mercy and I met through shared stories and quiet curiosity. We didn’t know then what the days ahead would bring. But when they did—when abuse arrived where trust should have been—she remembered. She spoke up. Because someone had once told her she had the right to. 

The composition is soft yet striking. The long, cool shadows contrast the heat of Ghana’s midday sun, echoing the duality of light and darkness so many girls live with. Behind them, school blocks stretch into the horizon—symbols of promise in a community pressed for space, but not for potential. 

This is not just a portrait of a place. It is a portrait of courage, of futures being rewritten. Mercy’s gaze reminds us: someone must keep watch. And someone must keep hoping. That’s what makes her a shero.