no men, just fufuo please

being a white woman in Ghana, i stand out. people want to "take me" as their wife before they even know my name. i can sit down in the shade for a brief moment and be approached by a man who wants to marry me because he loves me and he especially loves my country.

"really?" i say.

"yes, it is true my sweetie." he'll/they'll say.

"what country is it that you love so much?"

"your country."

"and where am i from?" i'll ask.

"i don't know."

the requests are so frequent that i've been considering going to a shop to have a t-shirt made. one side, the front side, will say "yes i will be your friend" and then the back side will say "no i will not marry you."

the other day i took a short ride on a tro tro to a local city. the car pulled up to my stop and just as i was alighting the vehicle a man that had been sitting in front of me for the past 30 minutes turned around and reached for my hand.

i had been admiring his stylish hat and paying close attention to what his almond eyes found interesting along the way. he stared at a huge oil rig that had been toppled over for quite some time. i was used to this drive, i knew the bends and corners that haphazard drivers wouldn't make it around and when they didn't i stared at the results for weeks. no one here is in a real hurry to clean up an accident scene, instead people use the debris as lounging areas, play structures, and shade. the man made a disapproving sound when he saw it. most locals don't take special note the way he did, so i questioned for a few miles whether he was a foreigner too. but when he asked me for my telephone number as i was stepping out of the trotro, his accent was Ghanaian.

i was in a funny mood that day. i was tired of routine. tired of telling people that i only wanted them as my friend, tired of being begged. the car was waiting for me to leave it, the man no longer had a hold of me, and all the passengers were listening to whether or not i was going to give this random person my telephone number.

"my number?" i asked. "why of course! do you have a pen?"

he scrambled through his bag as the tro tro inched forward, eager to leave. a few people in the car let some laughs loose and i stepped back to look at what i was doing.

why was i giving this man my number? i looked over at him and realized it was because i liked his hat, it had some sex appeal and was tilted to the side, which to me signified he had flair and personality.

he couldn't find a pen but someone from the back of the car lent him theirs.

"024" i said "6268924. and my name is Kacie."

"okay great, i'm Morrison, i'll be contacting you soon."

they all sped off, i heard him shout a goodbye through his window while i physically and mentally prepared to cross the busy street. i didn't have time to think about what i had just done, i had to dodge cars and buses first. sometimes i feel like i am living the real life version of Frogger.

when i got to the other side i started laughing. i felt a new sense of freedom. i didn't have to tell people no all the time, instead i could start saying yes. i pictured how life would be if i started handing out my number like it was Halloween candy. maybe i would find a husband? maybe our "how we met" story would lack 'soul mate romanticism and appeal' maybe instead it would be more dry and practical. i would tell people i had handed out my telephone number for years on public transportation until i had established some type of mutual connection with one of my recipients. then we got married.

i considered blind dating. this was no worse, or no better, depending on how you see it. and after all, Ghana is a big country and i didn't have to pick up my phone.

1 hour after i had been in the city i got a phone call from Morrison. He was just checking up on me.

"well, i'm doing just fine, thanks." then i hung up.

the next hour i got another phone call.

"still doing great, thanks." i said.

that night when i got back to the village i received a text message.

DEAREST KACIE. I KNOW YOU DO NOT KNOW ME BUT I CAN GUARANTEE I WILL MAKE YOU A GREAT FRIEND. DON'T FORGET ME. I WANT TO KNOW YOUR MIND. YOUR FRIEND, MORRISON.

i was tired and wasn't going to try and analyze it, the part about knowing my mind. tomorrow i would be leaving for a 2 day trip to Kumasi, a city with a lot of culture, history, and American food. At this point, the meals i had been dreaming about were what interested me most. i was going to eat something familiar and colorful.

the next day i checked into the guesthouse, declined the receptionist a marriage proposal, and found my room.

the sound my cell phone makes when i have an incoming message is similar to a cheap soundtrack of a sci-fi movie, or a scene from some after school special right when the ufo's land. i try to keep my phone on low because i don't know how to switch it and the noise embarrasses me. but no one was in my room so i didn't have to worry. i read the note.

HEY KACIE ITS MORRISON YOUR FRIEND. WISHING TO BE IN CONTACT.

i considered his salutation. "hey". it was slang, so if i did ever meet up with him at least we'd be able to converse freely.

my phone rang and i picked it up.

"Kacie? Kacie?" the background noise of where the caller was at, whom i assumed was Morrison, was scratchy and loud.

"yes this is kacie."

"Kacie where are you?"

"i'm in Kumasi."

"OH REALLY! that is wonderful. i am here in Kumasi also. i stay here. i'd like to meet with you sometime. when can i see you?"

i wasn't aware he was from Kumasi, i probably wouldn't have told him i was there if i knew.

"well" i had to think quick. "well i have a lot of work to do. i came just for a short time, i'm applying to colleges and will be busy for quite awhile on the computer. i don't think-"

the phone hung up.

i packed my bag with essentials for a day out on town; toilet paper, malaria meds, money, pen and paper then i headed over to the Internet lab.

when i was inside, fully engrossed in writing an application essay, i got another call.

"where are you kacie?"

"who is this?" i thought stalling the inevitable was my best choice.

"this is your friend Morrison."

"oh hello. how are you?"

the way cell phones work here is through units. the user buys a scratch card that equals up to a certain amount of time in units. when you call someone your units begin to deduct. most people are very low on units, due to lack of money. they call, typically greet the person on the other line, and state what they need to say. Then they hang up. i thought if i talked long enough about nothing his time would run up and i would never have to awkwardly reject a date.

"where are you?" he asked.

"oh, you see, i'm on the computer at an Internet cafe, and i don't know where i am."

i was annoying the people in the room. i was trying to speak low but it was still quite obvious i was on the phone. someone leaned over to me and told me where i was at.

"okay great, i'm coming." Morrison said right before he hung up.

he had heard my neighbor. they had informed him unintentionally of my hideout. now i was stuck. i couldn't leave my project, it was holding me hostage, so instead i said a little prayer.

dear God, help me, untangle my mess. i don't want to date this man.

for some strange reason i stopped focusing on my work on screen in front of me and started worrying about the reflection. i checked my teeth and smoothed my hair. i typed a line and then straightened my posture. i wanted to look cute typing when he walked in.

i looked around and realized how ridiculous this all was. i was primping for a person i was trying to reject, but it didn't stop me.

i was fully aware when he walked in behind me, i saw him on the screen. he swooped in and bent down on one knee lowering himself to my side, like a prince.

"keeesssyy" he said. when i focused in on him, he suddenly didn't look so much like royalty. he was sweating and trembling and his eyeballs looked like they were shaking around in their sockets. i repeated my previous prayer.

"helloooooo ohh it iss ssooo goood too see youu."

his voice was gremlinish and i wanted to get away from it.

he grabbed my hand and lifted it up to his eager lips. i was instantly mortified.

please god don't let him kiss my-

"mmmwwwkkk!"

he did it.

my whole body cringed and i wondered where the nearest sink was. i had already planned a hand washing session.

"ohh kessy, when yyyyoouu are donne lett's gett togethher, okayy?"

i gave him a very strong but sympathetic look. "i am very sorry but i will be here until the place closes. i surely don't have time today. i apologize."

it was early in the morning and the lab closed late at night, i was lying and it was obvious. no one spends 15 hours in a computer lab.

"weeelll theen maybe i''lll cooome bacck in 30 minnuttes and waiit."

he looked obsessed.

i tried to dissuade his return but he would have none of it.

after he left i quickly typed up answers to the midwifery college i am trying to get into.

question number 8- please describe your current relationship with the Lord.

question number 9- please describe your relationship with your family.

question number 10- what do you believe your strengths as a midwife will be.

i was thoughtful and truthful and typing like crazy. i wanted to get out of there before he came back. i was putting all my faith into him operating in "African time". that would mean his half hour arrival would really come in 1 hour or longer. i was pleasantly surprised by the speed and fluency of my answers. they were what i would have typed had i been sitting and pondering all day long.

i dotted my last i's and crossed my t's and got the hell out of there. i grabbed all my things in one big swoop and ran out the door down the street. the day had turned busy, people were everywhere, taxis buzzing around beeping at me and all the other pedestrians. i ran past everything, taking in nothing, knowing the further away i got the less of a chance of me getting caught again in the presence of that guy.
i ran past an expat hangout, made a quick u turn, and entered it like i was dying of thirst and had just reached a waterfall. i found a table close to the corner and huddled down with my papers and relief.

a menu came floating down to me, like an autumn leaf falling. it landed in my lap and i studied it in complete peace. i was safe.

the waiter came over and asked me what i'd like.

"first," i said "i'd like to wash my hands. is there a place i can do that?"

he pointed to a sink in the corner.

"okay" i said "i can't decide quite yet, my mind will clear once my hands are clean. please come back to me."

i walked back to the sink, but had to special request soap. somebody brought me a huge squirt bottle full, it was the color of 4 leafed clovers and leprechauns. i filled my palms up and rubbed ferociously.

i was thankful.

thankful to be where i was at, alone, doing what i was doing.

i walked back to my table and sat down. i looked at the menu again and a strange craving came over me.

none of the food looked appetizing.

i wanted fufuo. my body wanted fufuo.

the waiter made his second round and looked at me expectantly.

"okay, well, i guess i'll get a Hawaiian pizza."

he nodded.

"but wait-" he was leaving and i just had to know. "you don't by any chance have fufuo, do you?"

"we do not."

"oh okay, never mind. pizza will be just fine."

i sat back and relaxed. i thanked God for my clean hands and deliverance and decided i wasn't going to hand out my number to strangers anymore, the excitement of it all was just too much.