we had arrived in Nkoranza, after our 2 rides, one in the back of the pickup and the next crammed in a taxi (7 people) no bigger than a fiat, with sofie on my lap. after we got out, and as we were walking sofie said...
"sorry about that kacie."
she was referring to the man she had conversed with the entire way here. when we got out of the car, he mixed us up and asked me for my address. i told him i wasn't the girl he was talking to, i was the american. the swiss girl was still standing over by the taxi. "oh oh right" then he walked her way. "please" he said "i would really love your address and your telephone number."
they had had a good conversation, i heard and felt the entire thing, since she was sitting on me. it reverberated through her back and down her legs into my body. he seemed like a nice guy, but still it was apparent sofie didn't want to give him her contact details, so instead she referred him back to me.
"oh did you ask my friend? she has a pen, she'll give you hers."
he looked over at me, waiting.
"well" i started "um, you want my address here in ghana? my house actually doesn't have an address. we live in the bush. we don't get mail where we are at and my telephone number..." i stuttered and stalled and generally felt bad. "yeah my telephone number, you should get sofies."
that was when i left to go buy some pineapple.
"it's okay." i said laughing to sofie. "making me do your dirty work. i'll just send them right back to you!"
"i felt bad for him, but i refuse to give out my address. my pop did that once when he was traveling, then 6 months later a guy showed up on his doorstep in Switzerland and he couldn't get rid of him." she had yelled at andrew for giving the fetish chief in the monkey village his address.
"really?" the story sounded like a lie, but sofie wasn't that type of person to tell outrageous false stories to back a simple point.
"yeah."
we kept walking down the road. i was enjoying this town, it was lively but not threatening and we were on our way to the children's home. i had no idea what to expect.
"it's really interesting what people decide to be proud about." andrew said. "like this children's project, we've walked ages and there has only been one small sign advertising for it. but it seems like a really worthy project that has just sort of been pushed onto the outskirts of town, and not so many people know about it. but at the monkey village..."
he was sifting through thoughts and formulating opinions. i was listening and wondering if what he was saying was true. how did he know not so many people knew about it? had he asked one person who had no idea, then decided everyone had no idea. i couldn't help but hear his and sofie's constant reflections on ghanaian society because they were always talking about them. i disagreed with a lot of what they said, but i never voiced it because i feared sounding like a constant know-it-all, and also i realized they had only been here for a few weeks. if somebody had been next to me analyzing everything i said on my first trip to africa i would have been mortified. the first time i ate deep fried plantain it was dark, and i was certain i was eating french fries. i had wondered why no ketchup?
we were walking in the direction out of town, so i could understand why he might think they pushed what this society treats as the "undesirables" out into a space where this project wouldn't be public, but there were so many other reasons and he sounded so sure of his conclusion. he sounded like an expert and sometimes, i worry about the faith we place in experts.
but the nice thing about andrew is that he is humble, and when another opinion is introduced he works with that too, he considers it, tinkers with it, jokes. he is honestly trying to figure things out. he's not out to prove he's right.
we found what we were looking for once we got to the bottom of a long sloping hill.
"this is it." andrew said.
we walked up to a big solid gate, painted lime green with a sign next to it warning visitors to "watch out for wild dogs." my imagination took over, and although the surroundings were quite peaceful indeed, i had a 4 second panic attack. wild dogs? when i looked a little closer i realized the sign was intended as a joke. the picture of the dog was the happiest looking pet i had seen.
sofie had trailed behind so we waited for her before we stepped through.
"if we don't like it here we don't have to stay the night." she said. "let's just give it a look and decide in a bit, yeah?"
sounded good to me.
the gate opened magically, a watchman had heard our chatter and warmly welcomed us in.
if i could liken what was about to happen to us to something remotely similar, i would have to say this was the beginning of a day long trip into a world as bizarre and unpredictable as alice in wonderland.
the first thing i noticed was how it looked nothing close to what i had imagined. although i wasn't trying to conjure up any type of image, the word 'children's home' immediately gave me one. i saw a big house, 2 stories, dark and smelly. old plastic toys strewn about and weird left over smells from yesterday's dinner. i imagined a tired maid yelling at the children, and a happy but wasted "mother" spreading the love to all her "sons and daughters". in the down time, she'd sit us down and confide in us the strife of her life's work. she was tired and growing old. what would the children do when she couldn't care for them anymore? little Claire was just 6 months and mothers years were limited. she worried, and in this home, my make believe home, mother had no support system. we would vow to try and help someway, because as we sat and talked we were touched by her selflessness and her way with the kids. they truly loved her. but in a few weeks time, after we had left the desperate energy and direct needs, we'd forget.
a woman walked out from a small enclosed patio type area.
"welcome, do sit down." she was young and beautiful, in a down to earth way. her eyes sparkled and she had a smile that never seemed to end, only it was punctuated with some serious dimples. her hostessing skills were refined, pulling out our chairs and letting us know she would be right back.
we 3 looked around. our heads were moving in complete circles trying to soak in all that we could see. nobody said much because there was too much to look at but once we had absorbed enough our observations came spilling out.
"this place is really nice."
"yeah, it's nice... and... really strange!"
"i don't get it?"
"it feels really free in here."
"where are all the kids?"
"it kind of reminds me of mexico, the architecture." ... "ya, it does huh?!"
"what do you suppose they've built all these little houses out of?"
"looks like adobe painted white."
"the property is huge, look down there it keeps going."
"i wonder what the donkey's are for."
"look at all those bicycles."
"they sell wine in that shop? that's weird."
"this tablecloth is nice. my stepdad would like it."
"do we want to stay tonite?"
"let's wait to decide."
a medium sized girl walked up to the foot of our table and let out a loud long scream. then she shuffled off.
"that must be one of the kids."
"i'd like to go and see the kids."
"i'm hungry, is anyone else?"
our hostess came back and we were quieted for a bit.
"my name is charity, if you have any questions feel free to ask me. and where are you from?"
"switzerland." "london." "usa."
"alright wonderful, we are happy to have you here. and are you going to stay this evening?"
"we aren't sure yet."
"fine, fine. no pressure at all. you can walk around, enjoy the sights, see the children. when you decide just come and let me know, the rooms fill up and we want you to have a place to stay, so don't wait too long!" then she flashed her charming genuine smile and walked away. she turned around quickly and said "you can leave your bags on the table, they'll be fine there."
i knew we all felt comfortable because we deposited our things and walked away from them with a free mind, like a parent who has found an excellent babysitter. as a traveler watching your bag is as second nature as breathing, but comes with an ever present internal nag that has been fueled by horror stories and first account tales of worst case scenarios. it is a faint steady scratching inside, a constant but unobvious priority. nothing has ever been taken from me in ghana, but still i have heeded to other people's advice.
"which direction should we go?"
the land was expansive, and sprinkled about were bright white cottages painted with cheerful trim in either red, yellow, or blue. in fact, the more i looked around the more i noticed EVERYTHING had been doused with a little red, yellow or blue. it gave the place an elementary feel, of simpleness and accessibility.
directly in front of us, underneath a thatch-roofed structure a man had built a fire and was stirring an enormous black pot (the size of a buoy) of what looked like porridge. he had his shirt off, and both hands on a large wood stick, working the food around in a slow steady motion. he was making lunch for all the children.
"how many kids live here?" i asked. andrew had researched a bit so i figured he'd know.
"i'm not sure, somewhere around 50, i think."
"i wonder where they are."
the walkways were wide and smooth, they were handicap accessible. on our left was a large area, the size of a park, filled with grass and a row of small basic houses, all strung together.
grass, maintained and well kept in the form of a lawn, is not an african concept. you don't see it here, except... now i was. the look of it was both familiar and ordinary but incredibly strange and uncommon. my two worlds colliding made me feel out of sorts. i kept my eyes focused in that direction, was it really just the lawn that was making me feel so odd about everything?
further down that direction in a reserved space of natural beauty, large rock formations, popped out of the ground and caused me to stare a bit. i didn't feel like i was in ghana anymore. the rocks resembled the mountains in northern california, some place you'd spend hours to hike to. a secret spot, where mountain lions would mate.
directly in front of us was the cook, but behind him perched interesting looking cottages making their way down a hill, and a spectacular view of the distance, with nothing but nature and sky.
on our right was a path, that curved around a few exciting open looking rooms, into an area i couldn't quite see.
"which way should we go?"
noise was coming from the right, people were walking about, shrill laughter and more mystery.
"let's go to the right."
we followed the yellow brick road, and when we poked our heads around the corner it appeared we had made it to munchkin land, to the lolly pop kids, and they were all in the pool.
"there's a pool?"
it was a childrens pool painted a sharp crisp blue and the depth didn't surpass 2 feet, but that didn't seem to matter. all the kid's were inside, crowded together peacefully and energetically, splashing, wading, standing underneath one of the many sprinklers. i wanted to go down there and get in on some of the action, but first i had the feeling we were supposed to greet a group of people who were sitting and chatting on some lawn furniture. they looked incredibly comfortable, like maybe they lived here.
sofie had involved herself in introduction while i was staring at the pool scene, and andrew was already engaged in conversation. if it was possible they could speak for me i was going to let that happen. i hung back.
after a few minutes i noticed one of the men was standing up. he got out of his chair in a similar fashion to Ma, that is, as if the chair didn't want to let him go. then he scooted himself over to me.
i turned and made eye contact, not ignoring his outstretched hand.
he didn't let go for quite some time and towards the last shake he pulled me in close to his eyeballs and asked in a long slow jazzy voice "annndd youu aree???"
his accent took me off gaurd, i thought it had to be a joke. he was white but sounded more african american, his voice was smooth, deep and soulful. i couldn't place which part of the states he was from.
"i'm kacie." i said, aware of the ease in which i said my name. i knew he'd understand it the first time around without deliberate pronunciation on my part.
"kaaaa-cciiee. kaaaciiee what?"
his glare was all-consuming and intense, he hadn't blinked once. and his teeth were thick, white, and incredibly glossy. i was having a hard time taking him all in and answering the simple questions. i would have much rather preferred to put him in a glass enclosure and observe before any sort of interaction were to take place. he seemed like the type of guy that would do very interesting things alone in a glass enclosure.
"kacie mutscheller."
"mutscheller? that must be german, am i right?? am i right??" he was jabbing me with his elbow, like we were already best friends. "but where are you from kacie? let me guess?! you couldn't be from... the states could you???" his speed was picking up but the directness with which he spoke was still intact. we were inches away from each other's face and he looked like he couldn't have been more thrilled to be talking to anyone else. i wanted to burst out laughing. who was this guy?
"yes, california."
"oooohhhhhhhh!!! CALLLLIFFORRNNIIAA!!!!" at this point he linked his arm into mine and burst out in song. we were swaying back and forth and he was singing about california and love and the birds, some old fashioned song i didn't recognize.
he had a lisp that came from his back teeth, like he was chewing on a mouthful of skittles. but it only came out when he pronounced certain letter combinations, like "th" and "ch". i began to wonder... maybe this home was for foreigners too?
andrew walked over.
"so" the guy said "we have annnddrreww and kaacciee from caalifforniaa. oohhhhh calllifooorrnniiaaa! ohh-"
"and what is your name again? i'm sorry i already forgot it." he had mentioned it in between the song he sang but i hadn't paid attention.
"that's okay sweetheart, it's a tough one to remember. okay, got your pen? are you ready? here it is...sure you're ready...okkkaaaayyy-... Bob." then he broke out in laughter, still keeping undisturbed eye contact and with each chuckle moving closer to my face.
"okay i think i can remember it."
andrew looked like he was watching a magician at the climax of his act. then he asked "so the kids, they've got a pool and..."
bob interrupted. "we live a middle class life here! i mean- WHY NOT? everybody deserves a little luxury, right andrew???" then he continued "kacie from calliifforrnia. which part?"
i consider myself from 3 parts, but i only mentioned one. "chico."
"oooohh chico!!! i know all about chico!!! do you know the author-" then he mentioned some obscure name and title. "-you don't know? well, don't worry about that kacie. he was from chico anyway. so kacie, chico, there is a university there, right? university of...? university of...?-"
"university of chico." i said.
"oooohhh right!!! yes, university of chico. so tell me kacie, what do you do back home?"
"i work with special need's kid's in the classroom."
"oohh wonnndderrfullll, just wondderfull. and is that what you studied, did you go to school?"
"yes. i got my BA in Humanities."
"ohhhhhhh HUMAN-ities," he screamed out "what part of humanities???"
"well, i mostly studied art... and literature... and-"
"so you are well educated in how to be HUMAN! oh Kacie! i can tell, you are human!"
his energy was starting to wear me out, but i really liked him. he was bizarre and i hadn't been around somebody strange in this way, for quite a while. i felt comfortable with his oddness, feeling a big part of me could hold my own with my secret supply of crazy kacieness.
"well, andrew and kacie, howabout i take you on a little tour of the place. are you staying tonite?"
"uh, we aren't sure yet."
"oh no problem kiddos, no problem at all! howabout, well, here just follow me, and grab your other friend, i'm gonna take you into my house here." then he turned to the people he was sitting with prior "i'm going to take my friends on a little tour." and he fluttered his hand in the direction of a patio and walked away from them like he wasn't enjoying their company much any way.
i whispered to andrew "i don't get it." and we both laughed.
bob walked us through a door and we found ourselves in a living room that looked exactly like a room in the u.s., accented with decorations from an eccentric man and his wife. i had insta-culture shock seeing so many knickknacs. i had been living in an empty house with bare walls. this room was filled from bottom to top with books, rugs, pictures, couches, chairs, tables; the typical things.
he didn't stop in the living room but walked to the back room, turned left into an outside area covered in bouiganvilla. the house was low to the ground and appeared to center around the courtyard.
"the space feels very south american." andrew said.
"oh you think? we like to call it the puerto vallerta of ghana! c'mon back here, oh but first take a look at this." he put his finger on a picture hanging from the wall, then turned to look at all of us. "we all have our fantasies, you don't tell me yours and i won't tell you mine. but here is my wifes."
then he walked away, leaving us curious for a closer look. it was a clipping from a newspaper and his wife was the subject. she was in some big city, usa sitting on a low wall outside a skyrise, putting on clown make-up. the next shot of her was in a group of people, frozen with a very dramatic look on her face.
"she's a self-proclaimed mime, clown, whatever you want to call it! on the side. let's keep going..."
we walked through the courtyard to a back room, where his wife, entreprenuer and founder of Hand in Hand was busy typing away on a lap top. her desk was artfully cluttered, and the room breathed creation. i hadn't seen art in such a long time, so when i looked at the paintings on the wall my soul suddenly remembered how hungry it was for it. i had forgotten the power of visual art. i wanted to digest every inch of the place. i wanted to tour a big famous museum from open to close, till my knees got weak and my eyes went blurry. i wanted to see more.
"these are all Inneka's pieces. she's an artist too! hey-" he looked over at my feet "i really like those moccassins! okay kids, lets keep moving"
we trailed behind and backtracked through all the places we had just been. then when we reached the room right behind the living room bob asked us all to sit down. he plopped down into a big chair and let out a long sigh of exhaustion. i noticed his hair, a short cropped grey mullet. the back was tight curls, not too long. he had a large nose and a beard, and was overweight enough to produce breasts while sitting down.
"you guys like movies?" then he stood up again and brought us over to the bright red bookshelf which covered the entire room- wall to wall. layers upon layers of dvd's lined up in a row, begging to be watched.
andrew said "we were just all talking about how it'd be nice to watch a film."
"well whatda like? huh?"
his selection was diverse.
andrew laughed.
"hey! do you like sinatra?" then he burst out into a frank sinatra song. "or what about-" grabbing andrew by his arm "you say potato, i say pohtahtoh you say tomato, i say tohmahtoh, potato..."
andrew "pohtahtoh"
bob "tomato"
andrew "tohmahtoh"
together "ooohhhh let's call the whole thing off!".
then he stopped abrubtly, abandoned andrew and zeroed in on my eyes again. "i'm an actor. i love the theatre. i used to live in chicago..."
"oh you're from chicago!" i said.
"thank you for saying it correctly sweetheart."
his origin explained parts of his sound.
"so i was saying, i'm an actor, oh and i used to direct. but all you need to know is ACTORS DON'T BLINK."
i nodded.
"but here, i teach Jewish studies, because if you couldn't tell, I'm Jewish. so anyway kacie, i should also let you know, i'm a flirt. but i'm not dangerous. really. look at me, i'm 76 years old."
"76?" i didn't believe it.
"whose that charming fellow?" he pointed over to a picture of some boy in a black and white marine photo. i stepped closer to it.
"that's you!"
"ohhhhh, back in that time you either got stationed for training in San Diego or the Midwest."
"i'm from San Diego." i said.
"really? do they still call it Day-go?"
"um, no, i haven't heard that."
"well, whatdayathink, let's sit back down."
we all found our original seats.
"so here, we like drama. i'm dramatic. i forgot to tell you you're dealing with a bi-polar! well any way, did you meet Charity? she's a real sweetheart. promise me, when you go back out there, next time you see her you have got to say 'hey! weren't you in 'who's afraid of virginia woolfe?'" he slapped his knee and found a lot of humor in what he was saying "just do it! tell her you saw her playing the lead. she'll never believe it. we performed a play here, with all the kids. it was great. so can you do that for me?"
i had numbed out. he was talking to quickly and passionately about too many different things. i suddenly became very tired and irritable, feeling like i was never going to escape.
he switched the subject back to films and kept andrew and sofie engaged for a few minutes. i tuned in when i heard him mention he was a writer.
"so, i write. i'm a writer. but i don't write very well. i have this idea for a story, do you want to hear it? okay great." he waved his hands all around and told stories with a trembeling frenziness. "here it goes... there is this man, he's an actor, but all he wants to do in life is be a waiter. he can't seem to find any openings, and no one will take him, so he keeps acting to pay the bills. do you see what i'm doing here? the reversal? haha the actor wanting to be a waiter. those really are some great moccassins kacie. oh it's nice to talk to someone from the states. and you two also. it's just nice to have some conversation. you know? it really turns me on, physically and intellectually. and to tell you the truth, this is what i do. i talk to people. i make them feel comfortable. my wife does all the work, and i do all the talking!"
i was officially wiped out, and when he segued into politics i stood up and literally ran out of the room.
"i think i scared her off!" he joked.
i was close to the front door and i yelled "i hate talking about politics! i'll come back in if you don't ask me any more questions regarding politics!"
i slowly made my way into the room.
"oh sweetheart, don't worry, shwartzennegar, daygo, i'll stop. but actually let's go back outside. you guys can tour the place. decide if you want to stay."
as we were making our exit i was still in awe over all the clutter. "you have so many things." i said.
"HEY! you are a true american. stuff and things. you say things, or WE say things. things and stuff. but your friends here, they don't say stuff and things. i haven't heard an american in quite a while. ahhh, kacie, it's nice to have you here. i hope you all decide to spend the night."
even though he had launched an energy assault on us, some part of him was incredibly endearing, and i could tell all 3 of us did want to stay the night if we could just go back to our rooms and rest a bit.
"i think we'll stay." sofie said.
"okay, great! let me take you back to reception, and we can get you a room and settle you in. stay as long as you'd like. 1 day, 1 week, 1 year!"
andrew, sofie and i were only going to spend one day there but after the introduction episode i had already felt i had been there centuries. we were all looking forward to exploring the grounds and understanding the project a little more.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
the monkey's and the wait
we spent the morning at the monkey sanctuary, where the little scoundrels ran up to us and snatched peanuts out of our hands and we were lead by a guide who was retiring that month. he was calloused from the routine of his occupation, walking through the forest with big groups of overly curious tourists asking the same questions, but he was in love with the monkeys, you could tell the minute he saw one.
the morning came and went and when sofie got her monkey fix, we left.
the monkey village is quite a ways off the main road and we were told by the staff at the lodge that if we waited at the junction a tro tro would surely pass by and deliver us to the next big city.
it was still early, so we all walked to the "junction" which was really only a fork in the dirt road. we found a shady spot, underneath a friendly tree and stood. as what usually happens, a stranger anticipated our unvoiced, unmet need and shortly a small child ran over to us with a bench.
he told us with his hands to sit.
"that was nice." andrew said. "i wonder where the bench came from?"
i had long ago stopped wondering about things like that.
"i hope a tro tro comes soon." sofie said.
i had long ago quit relying on the idea of a tro tro operating on some sort of dependable schedule.
after waiting about 45 minutes, sofie asked me if i wanted to read to her. we had started Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe.
"Ya i'd love to!" it was the perfect solution to pass the time.
i looked over at andrew. he looked lost.
"i'm sorry andrew. have i taken your job?"
he said yes in a polite but honest way. but i still wanted to read.
"how about we do one chapter one chapter?" i said pointing once at him and once at me. i assumed sofie didn't want to read, since she never had before and she wasn't speaking up.
"that sounds good." he said and i handed him the book. he opened it and read with a charged tenacity and i could tell he loved reading in general, but he really loved reading to sofie.
it was a good thing we had the book and not a lot to do because we ended up waiting for hours. each time a car drove by they told us they weren't going in our direction. they were heading to the funeral that was in the monkey village, did we want to come? none of us were up to a funeral, each for different reasons, so we kept reading.
the first day i met sofie in boamadumase, as the sun set and she settled into her room and the idea of having no electricity, i knocked on her door to mention something of no importance.
"can i come in?" i then asked.
"oh yes come on in."
andrew was sitting on the newly bought bed. the room echoed and looked bald. sakola had just moved out that morning to let sofie in. he woke up at 5 to paint the patches of the wall where the ceiling had leaked and left dripping marks. he painted it in white even though the walls were yellow, and laughed the entire time. paint was everywhere and i thought it looked horrible. 'sako it looks bad! why are you doing it in white?' he was offended that i said it looked bad and then blamed it all on auntie.
"how do you like your paint job?" i said jokingly.
she was busy unpacking chotchke.
"what's that?" i asked.
"oh that?" pointing over by her window "those are rechargeable batteries, solar powered."
"ahhhh, i see. so do you like your room?"
"yes it's huge! i'm going to do yoga in here, it's so big how could i not?"
"good, i'm glad you like it. there was a wild frenzy going on here right before you came. we spent the past few days cleaning and sakola woke up this morning and painted the wall to make your room look nice..."
"well i'm glad somebody cared we were coming!"
she shot andrew a look.
"we just came from a week at agogo hospital and it was like 'why'd you come?' nobody seemed to care if we were there or not and i was starting to feel like maybe i just shouldn't have come at all!" she seemed angry. "i'm so relieved to be in the village. it's got a nice feeling and everybody is so welcoming. i'm sorry if i seem a bit upset, it's just that coming to ghana was a really big decision for me. i basically just left my stepdad who is dying." she paused to hold back the surge of tears that was so obvious in coming. she shook it off. "yeah, so i don't know. i've been planning this trip for quite some time now and then my stepfather became very ill so i stayed to be with him, but it was akward because he wanted me to just leave and come here, but i wanted to support him. but he thought i was basically just sitting around waiting for him to die, which is awful. and... i wanted to be here, not that i want him to die, at all, but he's got cancer and he won't be getting better. so it was a big deal for me to come here. and i feel really guilty about it." her eyes welled up and her chest puffed out. andrew was about to interrupt her and then she said "no i don't feel guilty, because fuck it's my life too. i have to live my life. but the timing for all of this is really bad. i left my mom who is going through all this even though i told her i'd call her every day, which reminds me of this whole reception deal?!?! ... and i don't know. sorry to put all this on you!" she laughed "i haven't even known you for a day and i am already crying! i'm a very open person in case you haven't figured that out! so i'm glad that somebody was anticipating me being here, because i want this time to be of good use. so, thanks."
"i'm sorry sofie." i said.
she shrugged and continued to unload.
"well when you have some time i can show you the spots here that get reception. the best one here on the property in on the corner of the porch, when the wind blows, and if you put your hand out like this."
she laughed. "i get it in this room."
"YOU DO???" this was news to me. it was day one in boamadumase and she was already getting personal blessings from god. "well then, don't worry about the porch."
sofie was in close contact with her family, and each day new news was delivered. her stepdad had a bad fall and was in the hospital in bed, disoriented. she told me and she beamed "he's not doing well, and has completely forgotten how to speak english. at the beginning of his life he spoke only Portuguese, so he's in bed speaking portuguese to my mother and chain smoking cigarettes!" some part of that thought made her happy, but the moment she'd confront the death aspect she'd sheath it off like an ill-fitting robe, which is why on that day in the monkey village when i told of how funerals are considered celebrations here, she still had no interest in going.
"i'd prefer to stay away from death and funerals right now." she said.
andrew and i had quit reading and he had started up a little game of hacky sac with an old water bag filled with dried leaves and a bunch of village children.
we were sitting in a semi-circle of onlookers so i thought i'd try some of my new twi words on them and see the reaction i got. "today we went to the forest, and walked, and looked at things, ants." i said. i had just learned forest but thought i'd try it all out. i said ants because i forgot how to say monkey's.
they all applauded.
i continued tempting them into abnormal conversation. i didn't want to repeat the phrases i always said, i wanted to learn new words. sofie joined the children.
after another hour or two passed a pick up truck drove by and we ran out onto the road to beg it for a lift.
"get in!", all the people in the back shifted their positions and bags of maize to make room for us, and we were on our way to our third destination, an orphaned and disabled childrens community that also had guest houses. we planned to spend the remainder of our time there, but if it was left up to me i would have just asked to continue to our house. i was tired from the traveling and feeling homesick for boamadumase. i couldn't see the purpose of visiting this project for a day and then leaving. i felt a extremely self-conscious of being the tourist who stops in to take pictures and look at how interesting it all was, shake some children's hands and go home to tell people about it. i want to make a difference, and whatever does that really mean? i didn't want to objectify the children, but i wasn't going to be able to get to know them. i was caught in a quandary.
on a deeper level, i didn't want to go BECAUSE of my actual interest, the way a person will spend a lifetime blind to their dreams, doing anything that has nothing to do with what they truly love, due to some foundationless fear or trying to dodge insecurity. i was genuinely curious about this population, orphans and handicapped folk, so why wouldn't i go?
after having worked in california in the schools with children who have disabilities i had an intimate interest. i came to terms with the fact i might not be able to make a difference in their lives directly, that i might just be another random white lady who came and left, but that still was alright. i was going to learn something on their behalf, which is better than nothing.
the morning came and went and when sofie got her monkey fix, we left.
the monkey village is quite a ways off the main road and we were told by the staff at the lodge that if we waited at the junction a tro tro would surely pass by and deliver us to the next big city.
it was still early, so we all walked to the "junction" which was really only a fork in the dirt road. we found a shady spot, underneath a friendly tree and stood. as what usually happens, a stranger anticipated our unvoiced, unmet need and shortly a small child ran over to us with a bench.
he told us with his hands to sit.
"that was nice." andrew said. "i wonder where the bench came from?"
i had long ago stopped wondering about things like that.
"i hope a tro tro comes soon." sofie said.
i had long ago quit relying on the idea of a tro tro operating on some sort of dependable schedule.
after waiting about 45 minutes, sofie asked me if i wanted to read to her. we had started Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe.
"Ya i'd love to!" it was the perfect solution to pass the time.
i looked over at andrew. he looked lost.
"i'm sorry andrew. have i taken your job?"
he said yes in a polite but honest way. but i still wanted to read.
"how about we do one chapter one chapter?" i said pointing once at him and once at me. i assumed sofie didn't want to read, since she never had before and she wasn't speaking up.
"that sounds good." he said and i handed him the book. he opened it and read with a charged tenacity and i could tell he loved reading in general, but he really loved reading to sofie.
it was a good thing we had the book and not a lot to do because we ended up waiting for hours. each time a car drove by they told us they weren't going in our direction. they were heading to the funeral that was in the monkey village, did we want to come? none of us were up to a funeral, each for different reasons, so we kept reading.
the first day i met sofie in boamadumase, as the sun set and she settled into her room and the idea of having no electricity, i knocked on her door to mention something of no importance.
"can i come in?" i then asked.
"oh yes come on in."
andrew was sitting on the newly bought bed. the room echoed and looked bald. sakola had just moved out that morning to let sofie in. he woke up at 5 to paint the patches of the wall where the ceiling had leaked and left dripping marks. he painted it in white even though the walls were yellow, and laughed the entire time. paint was everywhere and i thought it looked horrible. 'sako it looks bad! why are you doing it in white?' he was offended that i said it looked bad and then blamed it all on auntie.
"how do you like your paint job?" i said jokingly.
she was busy unpacking chotchke.
"what's that?" i asked.
"oh that?" pointing over by her window "those are rechargeable batteries, solar powered."
"ahhhh, i see. so do you like your room?"
"yes it's huge! i'm going to do yoga in here, it's so big how could i not?"
"good, i'm glad you like it. there was a wild frenzy going on here right before you came. we spent the past few days cleaning and sakola woke up this morning and painted the wall to make your room look nice..."
"well i'm glad somebody cared we were coming!"
she shot andrew a look.
"we just came from a week at agogo hospital and it was like 'why'd you come?' nobody seemed to care if we were there or not and i was starting to feel like maybe i just shouldn't have come at all!" she seemed angry. "i'm so relieved to be in the village. it's got a nice feeling and everybody is so welcoming. i'm sorry if i seem a bit upset, it's just that coming to ghana was a really big decision for me. i basically just left my stepdad who is dying." she paused to hold back the surge of tears that was so obvious in coming. she shook it off. "yeah, so i don't know. i've been planning this trip for quite some time now and then my stepfather became very ill so i stayed to be with him, but it was akward because he wanted me to just leave and come here, but i wanted to support him. but he thought i was basically just sitting around waiting for him to die, which is awful. and... i wanted to be here, not that i want him to die, at all, but he's got cancer and he won't be getting better. so it was a big deal for me to come here. and i feel really guilty about it." her eyes welled up and her chest puffed out. andrew was about to interrupt her and then she said "no i don't feel guilty, because fuck it's my life too. i have to live my life. but the timing for all of this is really bad. i left my mom who is going through all this even though i told her i'd call her every day, which reminds me of this whole reception deal?!?! ... and i don't know. sorry to put all this on you!" she laughed "i haven't even known you for a day and i am already crying! i'm a very open person in case you haven't figured that out! so i'm glad that somebody was anticipating me being here, because i want this time to be of good use. so, thanks."
"i'm sorry sofie." i said.
she shrugged and continued to unload.
"well when you have some time i can show you the spots here that get reception. the best one here on the property in on the corner of the porch, when the wind blows, and if you put your hand out like this."
she laughed. "i get it in this room."
"YOU DO???" this was news to me. it was day one in boamadumase and she was already getting personal blessings from god. "well then, don't worry about the porch."
sofie was in close contact with her family, and each day new news was delivered. her stepdad had a bad fall and was in the hospital in bed, disoriented. she told me and she beamed "he's not doing well, and has completely forgotten how to speak english. at the beginning of his life he spoke only Portuguese, so he's in bed speaking portuguese to my mother and chain smoking cigarettes!" some part of that thought made her happy, but the moment she'd confront the death aspect she'd sheath it off like an ill-fitting robe, which is why on that day in the monkey village when i told of how funerals are considered celebrations here, she still had no interest in going.
"i'd prefer to stay away from death and funerals right now." she said.
andrew and i had quit reading and he had started up a little game of hacky sac with an old water bag filled with dried leaves and a bunch of village children.
we were sitting in a semi-circle of onlookers so i thought i'd try some of my new twi words on them and see the reaction i got. "today we went to the forest, and walked, and looked at things, ants." i said. i had just learned forest but thought i'd try it all out. i said ants because i forgot how to say monkey's.
they all applauded.
i continued tempting them into abnormal conversation. i didn't want to repeat the phrases i always said, i wanted to learn new words. sofie joined the children.
after another hour or two passed a pick up truck drove by and we ran out onto the road to beg it for a lift.
"get in!", all the people in the back shifted their positions and bags of maize to make room for us, and we were on our way to our third destination, an orphaned and disabled childrens community that also had guest houses. we planned to spend the remainder of our time there, but if it was left up to me i would have just asked to continue to our house. i was tired from the traveling and feeling homesick for boamadumase. i couldn't see the purpose of visiting this project for a day and then leaving. i felt a extremely self-conscious of being the tourist who stops in to take pictures and look at how interesting it all was, shake some children's hands and go home to tell people about it. i want to make a difference, and whatever does that really mean? i didn't want to objectify the children, but i wasn't going to be able to get to know them. i was caught in a quandary.
on a deeper level, i didn't want to go BECAUSE of my actual interest, the way a person will spend a lifetime blind to their dreams, doing anything that has nothing to do with what they truly love, due to some foundationless fear or trying to dodge insecurity. i was genuinely curious about this population, orphans and handicapped folk, so why wouldn't i go?
after having worked in california in the schools with children who have disabilities i had an intimate interest. i came to terms with the fact i might not be able to make a difference in their lives directly, that i might just be another random white lady who came and left, but that still was alright. i was going to learn something on their behalf, which is better than nothing.
the waterfall
it was sunday and sofie, andrew, and i had spent the last few days jumping tro tro's and seeing sights.
our first tro tro driver was obviously not concerned about arriving to the waterfalls alive. andrew was gripping the seat in front of him and kept glancing tensely over to sophie, who seemed equally uneasy. the ride was over 3 hours, on a very bumpy road and this man's speeding was so prolific i was thankful the spedometer was broken. i had checked it while i formulated the tragic but miraculous story.
'he was going 130 miles per hour just before we drove off the cliff. i don't know how we all escaped that crash with just a few scrapes and bruises, it was scary for sure!' i'd tell the newscaster, with the wild look of a survivor.
"and can you tell ghana what it feels like to fly?"
"truly incredible. unlike anything else."
my story was boring me so i dealt with the uncomfortable fact that this could be my last ride ever in another way, my favorite way. i fell asleep.
when we did finally make it to the waterfalls my friends were a bit on edge, and sofie was especially ornery. i was hoping she'd take a dip quick, i was certain the cool water would change her mood.
"you just slept the entire way!" andrew said, stupefied.
i looked down and gave a little shrug. 'it's what i do.' i said. then i looked up to take in the beautiful surroundings. we had made it! the waterfall was unlike the one i had been to with senam, this one seemed less intimidating, more interactive, although both were equally gorgeous.
the path of the water was wide, and tiered down from atop a distant slope where it all ended in a large deep pool. you could walk up the rocks, alongside the water, to the most powerful fall at the top of the hill. we had arrived later in the afternoon, missing the midday sun that would have been shining down onto the bottom pool. instead, it was dark and shady and not very enticing. my imagination turned the darkness into murkiness.
"aren't you ladies going to go in?" andrew asked.
we all looked over at the water.
"um, ya, in a little bit." i said.
sofie walked over and stuck her toe in. "it's nice." she said, walking away.
then we sat for awhile.
some locals boys ran and jumped in, filling the area with life and energy and dispelling the feeling that swimming in strange water gives me. but it hadn't left completely. i looked up to the top of the hill, the waterfall was glistening in the sun and i was certain the birds would be chirping up there. maybe i'd see a unicorn?
then i looked around where we were at.
"let's go up there." i said.
so we did.
when we made the short trek to the top sofie and i ran to the water. we both went directly underneath the fall and let it pound down on our backs and head. i have a habit of screaming like a child in waterfalls, of being over dramatic. it is completely fake, but i do it anyway because it heightens the fun factor, like hollering as you drive through a tunnel. i wondered if sofie wanted me to shut up, but i didn't care, so i kept it going.
when we got out the first words out of her mouth, as she was shaking out her hair, were "our chances of having been infected with oncho are now greater than having not."
oncho- Onchocerciasis, a sub-saharan disease transmitted by the bite of a black fly. these flies typically dwell near fast flowing rivers. without treatment it can lead to blindness, known here as 'river blindness'.
i had been reading about it in the tropical disease book but didn't think it was in ghana.
andrew chimed in sarcastically "isn't it great traveling with a doctor?"
she was inspecting her body with a furrowed brow. "we'll just take some Ivermectin when we get back. they have it at the clinic."
then she ran off.
i spent the remainder of the time chasing patches of sun, and defending myself against anything suspicious trying to land on me. i tried washing andrews white shirt in the waterfall and experienced a split second wave of guilt. was i ruining the sacredness of this place by washing our dirty clothes in it? i justified my act as a very ghanaian thing to do, except i wasn't using soap and the shirt wasn't getting clean.
andrew had left adventuring and came back with news.
"we've got this gorgeous waterfall here, really picturesque yeah?" he spanned his hand against the backdrop. "and you just think, this is it. kind of like it just starts pouring out from this spot." he had started to laugh, his chokey laugh, the one i heard when he first saw our mansion house. "but then i took a stroll up the hill and just on the other side there are about 20 women doing their wash! it's really funny to see that!"
it made sense, and i bet most tourists never find out they are swimming in the local washing machine. i had to laugh too.
the day was starting to close, we still had to get to our accommodation before nightfall and it was far away. we all decided to partake in something i consider extreme opulence, but was glad to do. we hired a driver to take us the rest of the way.
i felt refreshed and happy, mixed with a slight bit of paranoia due to the black fly. i just needed to know exactly what the side effects were after being bitten. that way i could recognize them when they came, and if they didn't come, i could manifest them into existence from worrying so much. the ride was long so i had time to remind my self that paranoia is not from God. ultimately, at the root of my paranoia i was fearing pain and death. those are big things to deal with but i wasn't going to let a measly fly, the size of my thumbnail, take me away from the present, from reality, from god, and propel me into the wasteland of whatif's.
by the time i dealt with my self, and took a deep breath, we had arrived at the lodge, in the monkey village. a man greeted us just as we stepped out of the car.
"hello. i am Patrick. I will be your guide tomorrow. meet me here early please. you must be early to see the monkey's."
sofie was excited to see monkey's, she really likes them she said.
i was completely jaded, after having been on 2 african safari's in places renowned for big game wildlife. one had just happened that summer and was filled with jaw dropping sightings. my favorite being a herd of elephants clearing out of the brush in a long single file line, less than 5 feet away. babies gripping their mother's tail's with their short stubby trunks, and the older ones, enormous, with ivory tusks protecting the rest of the herd. one by one they all kept walking out of the bushes, on their way to the other side of the road, where they stepped back into wilderness and away from our eyes. it was truly wild.
there were water buffalo, a blue balled monkey, an early morning baboon party, hippos galore, crocodiles, a leopard hiding deep in some foliage, and so much more that now, i had become indifferent at the thought of going to a monkey reserve. but i kept it a secret, i didn't want to spoil the fun, and monkey's ARE fun.
i entertained the possibility of something incredible happening. maybe i'd get to deliver a monkey baby?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
our first tro tro driver was obviously not concerned about arriving to the waterfalls alive. andrew was gripping the seat in front of him and kept glancing tensely over to sophie, who seemed equally uneasy. the ride was over 3 hours, on a very bumpy road and this man's speeding was so prolific i was thankful the spedometer was broken. i had checked it while i formulated the tragic but miraculous story.
'he was going 130 miles per hour just before we drove off the cliff. i don't know how we all escaped that crash with just a few scrapes and bruises, it was scary for sure!' i'd tell the newscaster, with the wild look of a survivor.
"and can you tell ghana what it feels like to fly?"
"truly incredible. unlike anything else."
my story was boring me so i dealt with the uncomfortable fact that this could be my last ride ever in another way, my favorite way. i fell asleep.
when we did finally make it to the waterfalls my friends were a bit on edge, and sofie was especially ornery. i was hoping she'd take a dip quick, i was certain the cool water would change her mood.
"you just slept the entire way!" andrew said, stupefied.
i looked down and gave a little shrug. 'it's what i do.' i said. then i looked up to take in the beautiful surroundings. we had made it! the waterfall was unlike the one i had been to with senam, this one seemed less intimidating, more interactive, although both were equally gorgeous.
the path of the water was wide, and tiered down from atop a distant slope where it all ended in a large deep pool. you could walk up the rocks, alongside the water, to the most powerful fall at the top of the hill. we had arrived later in the afternoon, missing the midday sun that would have been shining down onto the bottom pool. instead, it was dark and shady and not very enticing. my imagination turned the darkness into murkiness.
"aren't you ladies going to go in?" andrew asked.
we all looked over at the water.
"um, ya, in a little bit." i said.
sofie walked over and stuck her toe in. "it's nice." she said, walking away.
then we sat for awhile.
some locals boys ran and jumped in, filling the area with life and energy and dispelling the feeling that swimming in strange water gives me. but it hadn't left completely. i looked up to the top of the hill, the waterfall was glistening in the sun and i was certain the birds would be chirping up there. maybe i'd see a unicorn?
then i looked around where we were at.
"let's go up there." i said.
so we did.
when we made the short trek to the top sofie and i ran to the water. we both went directly underneath the fall and let it pound down on our backs and head. i have a habit of screaming like a child in waterfalls, of being over dramatic. it is completely fake, but i do it anyway because it heightens the fun factor, like hollering as you drive through a tunnel. i wondered if sofie wanted me to shut up, but i didn't care, so i kept it going.
when we got out the first words out of her mouth, as she was shaking out her hair, were "our chances of having been infected with oncho are now greater than having not."
oncho- Onchocerciasis, a sub-saharan disease transmitted by the bite of a black fly. these flies typically dwell near fast flowing rivers. without treatment it can lead to blindness, known here as 'river blindness'.
i had been reading about it in the tropical disease book but didn't think it was in ghana.
andrew chimed in sarcastically "isn't it great traveling with a doctor?"
she was inspecting her body with a furrowed brow. "we'll just take some Ivermectin when we get back. they have it at the clinic."
then she ran off.
i spent the remainder of the time chasing patches of sun, and defending myself against anything suspicious trying to land on me. i tried washing andrews white shirt in the waterfall and experienced a split second wave of guilt. was i ruining the sacredness of this place by washing our dirty clothes in it? i justified my act as a very ghanaian thing to do, except i wasn't using soap and the shirt wasn't getting clean.
andrew had left adventuring and came back with news.
"we've got this gorgeous waterfall here, really picturesque yeah?" he spanned his hand against the backdrop. "and you just think, this is it. kind of like it just starts pouring out from this spot." he had started to laugh, his chokey laugh, the one i heard when he first saw our mansion house. "but then i took a stroll up the hill and just on the other side there are about 20 women doing their wash! it's really funny to see that!"
it made sense, and i bet most tourists never find out they are swimming in the local washing machine. i had to laugh too.
the day was starting to close, we still had to get to our accommodation before nightfall and it was far away. we all decided to partake in something i consider extreme opulence, but was glad to do. we hired a driver to take us the rest of the way.
i felt refreshed and happy, mixed with a slight bit of paranoia due to the black fly. i just needed to know exactly what the side effects were after being bitten. that way i could recognize them when they came, and if they didn't come, i could manifest them into existence from worrying so much. the ride was long so i had time to remind my self that paranoia is not from God. ultimately, at the root of my paranoia i was fearing pain and death. those are big things to deal with but i wasn't going to let a measly fly, the size of my thumbnail, take me away from the present, from reality, from god, and propel me into the wasteland of whatif's.
by the time i dealt with my self, and took a deep breath, we had arrived at the lodge, in the monkey village. a man greeted us just as we stepped out of the car.
"hello. i am Patrick. I will be your guide tomorrow. meet me here early please. you must be early to see the monkey's."
sofie was excited to see monkey's, she really likes them she said.
i was completely jaded, after having been on 2 african safari's in places renowned for big game wildlife. one had just happened that summer and was filled with jaw dropping sightings. my favorite being a herd of elephants clearing out of the brush in a long single file line, less than 5 feet away. babies gripping their mother's tail's with their short stubby trunks, and the older ones, enormous, with ivory tusks protecting the rest of the herd. one by one they all kept walking out of the bushes, on their way to the other side of the road, where they stepped back into wilderness and away from our eyes. it was truly wild.
there were water buffalo, a blue balled monkey, an early morning baboon party, hippos galore, crocodiles, a leopard hiding deep in some foliage, and so much more that now, i had become indifferent at the thought of going to a monkey reserve. but i kept it a secret, i didn't want to spoil the fun, and monkey's ARE fun.
i entertained the possibility of something incredible happening. maybe i'd get to deliver a monkey baby?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thursday, February 22, 2007
wednesdays women's days
i've started spending more time in Maame Vic's office, listening and watching while her and sophie diagnose patients. it's interesting, and has turned into a hub of experience.
"instead of bending like this" sofie bends down from her waist and touches the ground "you should do this." she lets her knees drop down and picks up a book, then straightens her legs. vic translates to use your knees not your back and the patient explodes into a look as if he has just seen God. he is in utter amazement at this new way to move. "thank you thank you" he says, nodding and bowing as he leaves the office.
it's the simple things.
but on some morning's, on this particular morning, it was far from simple. a young mother was sitting by the side of maame vic's desk, explaining her symptoms. she had a wiggly cheerful infant in her arms (who was not yet 4 months) but the woman lacked energy. she was complaining of fatigue, vomiting, and stomach pains.
"sister akua, can you get down for us please?" maame vic was motioning me off the exam bed, the young lady needed my spot to lie down and have her body checked. i jumped down and moved out of their way. she lifted her shirt and they palpitated her abdomen. then vic asked her a series of questions.
"we should send her to the laboratory to complete a pregnancy test." vic said, opening the door for her to head over to kingsley. then she shut it. "her baby is niiiiicce, a nice child!" she concluded. "but you see, these women come to me because they don't suspect they are pregnant. they think these symptoms are because of something else. either they don't suspect or they pretend to not know and hope i will tell them it is something else."
we sat for a small time and then the woman reappeared. kingsley was walking behind her, with his usual sneaky grin. "the test is positive" he said "it is positive for pregnancy. her child is sooo young and she has already gotten pregnant, truly wonderful." he meant that word to actually mean; full of wonder, not "great".
the woman sat back down in her chair. she hadn't understood what kingsley had said, because he didn't tell her in twi so vic waited a professional moment before she relayed the results.
positive pregnancy tests innately make me happy, so when i saw the look on the woman's face i had to readjust my initial excitement. she hung her head low and froze. she seemed to suddenly forget the child in her arms, and let the baby flop about. i walked over and held the little girl.
the energy in the room got thick and i felt my throat tighten. i swallowed the lump that was going to burst into congratulatory praise and instead sat in the uncomfortable moment, not really sure what to say, i focused more on looking at the baby's face. it was really cute.
ma vic looked at sofie and i and said "she is not yet 22 and has a 3 year old and her small child here. it's too bad. and you see her? she's crying. it's too bad. this child will suffer."
the girl had dammed her tears up, but occasionally one or two burst through. then she'd bury her face for a second in her handkerchief and give it a long slow tired wipe.
"your mother is crying." vic told the 3 month old.
it was the only thing that was uttered for minutes, while we all sat through vic's heavy sighs and head nods. then she broke the silence by telling the woman to return with her husband, for some family planning counseling and to see Ma.
then she left, more depleted than when she had come.
when the door had fully closed, sophie broke through, opinionated and abrupt.
"THAT IS SUCH SHIT!" she yelled. "the men have all the fun and leave the women with all the suffering, and the work. this is such shit."
although, her british accent even made "shit" sound nice, i was a little embarrassed that she had cussed in front of Maame Vic. i had only heard nanakwame and sakola use profanity once at the dinner table, so i had grown unaccustomed to it, but it felt appropriate in some ways because the moment was heated.
"no, it really is shit. pregnancy is such a high risk." she held up her fingers to explain the first of the risk factors. "african women are at a much higher risk when they become pregnant. first, because of malaria. they lose all their acquired immunity when they become pregnant, so there is that. second the risk of abortion and third the actual delivery. everything is riskier here, it just is."
maame vic interceded "i asked her to bring her husband back here the day after tomorrow. i will give them counseling. as for these people, if the husband says he doesn't want the baby she will have an abortion, but if he says he wants it she will by all means have the child. but you see, there is the danger of these illegal abortions they do. women will bleed profusely and die, so i have told her to come to the clinic. when i explain this to the husband they will then know. it is not advisable to give yourself an abortion."
i thought of konongo hospital and the screams. i thought of senam's neighbor and close friend in Ho, a girl of 22 who had just died from this. it was all too common.
"...but often times they don't come until weeks later for something other than antenatals and they tell me their pregnancy has just gone." she shrugged her shoulders. "they come if they don't die."
after a deep breath, and a careful delivery, sofie said "first off, i don't agree with abortion as a form of birth control, how so many women in the west use it. they just get pregnant and say 'oh whoops! guess i'll have an abortion. they do that 4, 5, 6 times. i can't stand it when they come into my office and i see that. take some fucking responsibility for your actions. but i do believe in legalized abortion, and this is a perfect example. in situations like this the risk factors are too high. that woman clearly doesn't want her child. if she goes and gives herself an abortion, because it is illegal, she could die. there needs to be facilities that are safe and legal. people need to be able to have abortions without dying."
there was an awkward silence, begging for someone else's opinion to come and keep the conversation flowing.
i wasn't ready to take a stand on the abortion talk, because i didn't know what side to stand on. personally, i knew what i would do, but i was still digesting the complexities of society, of life as a village woman, and more specific... of this last patient who just left. what would it be like to have no control like that? to be so young with 3 children? she would surely have double by the time she hit 30. how could she afford that?
but when i thought of her stopping what had already been started, of terminating the life of a living baby, i felt weak and sad. it made my gut hurt. i wished for some type of solution.
i wondered what the reasons were that this woman didn't want to be pregnant; there could be so many.
vic continued "many women, they don't want to get pregnant so they won't fornicate. they think if they fornicate, by all means they will become pregnant, so they prefer not to."
"that's a hard ultimatum for a lifelong relationship." i said. i spent a brief moment sympathizing with both sides, male and female. a life spent with a wife who doesn't want sex, or a life spent feeding, cleaning, raising, birthing and loving a family that only keeps growing. since it mostly isn't the woman's choice that wins out in the end i began to feel really upset. the lack of choice was so apparent.
"but as for the men, if they want to have sex the women don't have a choice." she said.
"why don't they just use some form of birth control?" i wondered. i knew it wasn't that simple, but i still had to ask.
"as for Depo (provera) the men think once their wives are injected they won't fear the pregnancy, instead, they think their wives will go around fornicating with other men because they won't be able to become pregnant. that is what they think. so they don't want them to use it."
"oh, really. hm."
"women have got no say in the matter!" sophie said "it's so frustrating."
"vic, do you think women have sex for pleasure here?"
"the couple has to communicate." she said. "they have to know the right time to fornicate, know when her last menses was and then she can tell her husband 'lets wait it's too risky at this time.' then when they choose the correct time they can feel free."
"but even then" sophie said "that method, it is still unreliable. there have been studies that show some women actually ovulate while they bleed. so that won't work. they need to come in to the clinic for birth control."
"they come!" vic said. "they come."
"but they don't!" sofie said. "there are thousands of people out there and comparatively, they aren't coming. i haven't seen anyone since i've been here, come in for family planning."
i had only seen a handful.
"they come in during the night." vic said. "as for the village, people will talk. not everybody thinks birth control is okay, so many of the ones who want it, they come to me in the night. they tell their husbands they have a headache, then they take the 6,000 cedis (80 cents) and come for their injection in the night. so you see? they come, but you are right, not too many. mostly the muslim women come."
"well more women should be coming. we need to educate them and let them know about family planning."
the conversation was turning from a sense of dread into being proactive, i could sense it. when ideas are shared and people care enough collaboration become a beautiful soup. start with something basic, add some ideas, season with each others feedback, let it simmer, think a bit, add some more input, stir our brains together, and let it cook for just a while longer.
"i know! on outreach days we should do a family planning talk and let the women get their birth control then." sofie said.
"ummm, but in that case, they will always be expecting US to come to THEM. that is how they are. if we bring the birth control to them they will wait for us to return, they won't come to the clinic. perhaps we should do it here."
"here would be good. but we have to decide upon a day and do it weekly. maybe fridays?" sofie said, quickly correcting herself "oh no no, fridays are market days. howabout thursdays?"
"everybody will be preparing for the market, going to farm."
"wednesdays?"
brains were thinking, then a collaborative "YES!"
"okay, we'll have our women's day on wednesday's. hey! wednesday women's day!"
we all laughed.
vic said "i will go to town and talk to the churches, that way everybody will know to come on wednesday's. and i'll go to the mosque."
i was a bit confused. "will they support you?"
"oh you see, the women they meet in the week. the presby's meet on tuesday evenings, and the methodists meet on thursdays. the muslim women gather together on friday's, so it is like that. i will go to the women's groups and tell them about women's days, tell them to come to our talks. but when the men find out they won't allow their women to do family planning, so instead we won't mention it. we can talk about breast examination, cervical cancer, the importance of going for check-ups, and then... at the end... we will spend a lot of time educating them on family planning."
sofie left the room and in less than 5 minutes had all the staff gathered outside the office, including me and vic.
"we have to do these things when we think of them, or else we'll just sit around saying 'next week' 'next week'." vera, efreeyeh, kingsley, secetry, watchman, ma, vic and i were all crowded around. "so this is it. we've been talking in the office and have decided we need to prioritize. women in the village really need to know that we offer birth control at the clinic, and they need to be educated about their choices. so starting this wednesday we are going to do 'woman's days' where all this will take place. what time do you think we should do this?"
after a short time we all decided upon the morning, and everybody was excited.
we disbanded in unity and empowerment, saying...
"we have to let people know, spread the word!"
it was nice to be ignited by passion again.
"instead of bending like this" sofie bends down from her waist and touches the ground "you should do this." she lets her knees drop down and picks up a book, then straightens her legs. vic translates to use your knees not your back and the patient explodes into a look as if he has just seen God. he is in utter amazement at this new way to move. "thank you thank you" he says, nodding and bowing as he leaves the office.
it's the simple things.
but on some morning's, on this particular morning, it was far from simple. a young mother was sitting by the side of maame vic's desk, explaining her symptoms. she had a wiggly cheerful infant in her arms (who was not yet 4 months) but the woman lacked energy. she was complaining of fatigue, vomiting, and stomach pains.
"sister akua, can you get down for us please?" maame vic was motioning me off the exam bed, the young lady needed my spot to lie down and have her body checked. i jumped down and moved out of their way. she lifted her shirt and they palpitated her abdomen. then vic asked her a series of questions.
"we should send her to the laboratory to complete a pregnancy test." vic said, opening the door for her to head over to kingsley. then she shut it. "her baby is niiiiicce, a nice child!" she concluded. "but you see, these women come to me because they don't suspect they are pregnant. they think these symptoms are because of something else. either they don't suspect or they pretend to not know and hope i will tell them it is something else."
we sat for a small time and then the woman reappeared. kingsley was walking behind her, with his usual sneaky grin. "the test is positive" he said "it is positive for pregnancy. her child is sooo young and she has already gotten pregnant, truly wonderful." he meant that word to actually mean; full of wonder, not "great".
the woman sat back down in her chair. she hadn't understood what kingsley had said, because he didn't tell her in twi so vic waited a professional moment before she relayed the results.
positive pregnancy tests innately make me happy, so when i saw the look on the woman's face i had to readjust my initial excitement. she hung her head low and froze. she seemed to suddenly forget the child in her arms, and let the baby flop about. i walked over and held the little girl.
the energy in the room got thick and i felt my throat tighten. i swallowed the lump that was going to burst into congratulatory praise and instead sat in the uncomfortable moment, not really sure what to say, i focused more on looking at the baby's face. it was really cute.
ma vic looked at sofie and i and said "she is not yet 22 and has a 3 year old and her small child here. it's too bad. and you see her? she's crying. it's too bad. this child will suffer."
the girl had dammed her tears up, but occasionally one or two burst through. then she'd bury her face for a second in her handkerchief and give it a long slow tired wipe.
"your mother is crying." vic told the 3 month old.
it was the only thing that was uttered for minutes, while we all sat through vic's heavy sighs and head nods. then she broke the silence by telling the woman to return with her husband, for some family planning counseling and to see Ma.
then she left, more depleted than when she had come.
when the door had fully closed, sophie broke through, opinionated and abrupt.
"THAT IS SUCH SHIT!" she yelled. "the men have all the fun and leave the women with all the suffering, and the work. this is such shit."
although, her british accent even made "shit" sound nice, i was a little embarrassed that she had cussed in front of Maame Vic. i had only heard nanakwame and sakola use profanity once at the dinner table, so i had grown unaccustomed to it, but it felt appropriate in some ways because the moment was heated.
"no, it really is shit. pregnancy is such a high risk." she held up her fingers to explain the first of the risk factors. "african women are at a much higher risk when they become pregnant. first, because of malaria. they lose all their acquired immunity when they become pregnant, so there is that. second the risk of abortion and third the actual delivery. everything is riskier here, it just is."
maame vic interceded "i asked her to bring her husband back here the day after tomorrow. i will give them counseling. as for these people, if the husband says he doesn't want the baby she will have an abortion, but if he says he wants it she will by all means have the child. but you see, there is the danger of these illegal abortions they do. women will bleed profusely and die, so i have told her to come to the clinic. when i explain this to the husband they will then know. it is not advisable to give yourself an abortion."
i thought of konongo hospital and the screams. i thought of senam's neighbor and close friend in Ho, a girl of 22 who had just died from this. it was all too common.
"...but often times they don't come until weeks later for something other than antenatals and they tell me their pregnancy has just gone." she shrugged her shoulders. "they come if they don't die."
after a deep breath, and a careful delivery, sofie said "first off, i don't agree with abortion as a form of birth control, how so many women in the west use it. they just get pregnant and say 'oh whoops! guess i'll have an abortion. they do that 4, 5, 6 times. i can't stand it when they come into my office and i see that. take some fucking responsibility for your actions. but i do believe in legalized abortion, and this is a perfect example. in situations like this the risk factors are too high. that woman clearly doesn't want her child. if she goes and gives herself an abortion, because it is illegal, she could die. there needs to be facilities that are safe and legal. people need to be able to have abortions without dying."
there was an awkward silence, begging for someone else's opinion to come and keep the conversation flowing.
i wasn't ready to take a stand on the abortion talk, because i didn't know what side to stand on. personally, i knew what i would do, but i was still digesting the complexities of society, of life as a village woman, and more specific... of this last patient who just left. what would it be like to have no control like that? to be so young with 3 children? she would surely have double by the time she hit 30. how could she afford that?
but when i thought of her stopping what had already been started, of terminating the life of a living baby, i felt weak and sad. it made my gut hurt. i wished for some type of solution.
i wondered what the reasons were that this woman didn't want to be pregnant; there could be so many.
vic continued "many women, they don't want to get pregnant so they won't fornicate. they think if they fornicate, by all means they will become pregnant, so they prefer not to."
"that's a hard ultimatum for a lifelong relationship." i said. i spent a brief moment sympathizing with both sides, male and female. a life spent with a wife who doesn't want sex, or a life spent feeding, cleaning, raising, birthing and loving a family that only keeps growing. since it mostly isn't the woman's choice that wins out in the end i began to feel really upset. the lack of choice was so apparent.
"but as for the men, if they want to have sex the women don't have a choice." she said.
"why don't they just use some form of birth control?" i wondered. i knew it wasn't that simple, but i still had to ask.
"as for Depo (provera) the men think once their wives are injected they won't fear the pregnancy, instead, they think their wives will go around fornicating with other men because they won't be able to become pregnant. that is what they think. so they don't want them to use it."
"oh, really. hm."
"women have got no say in the matter!" sophie said "it's so frustrating."
"vic, do you think women have sex for pleasure here?"
"the couple has to communicate." she said. "they have to know the right time to fornicate, know when her last menses was and then she can tell her husband 'lets wait it's too risky at this time.' then when they choose the correct time they can feel free."
"but even then" sophie said "that method, it is still unreliable. there have been studies that show some women actually ovulate while they bleed. so that won't work. they need to come in to the clinic for birth control."
"they come!" vic said. "they come."
"but they don't!" sofie said. "there are thousands of people out there and comparatively, they aren't coming. i haven't seen anyone since i've been here, come in for family planning."
i had only seen a handful.
"they come in during the night." vic said. "as for the village, people will talk. not everybody thinks birth control is okay, so many of the ones who want it, they come to me in the night. they tell their husbands they have a headache, then they take the 6,000 cedis (80 cents) and come for their injection in the night. so you see? they come, but you are right, not too many. mostly the muslim women come."
"well more women should be coming. we need to educate them and let them know about family planning."
the conversation was turning from a sense of dread into being proactive, i could sense it. when ideas are shared and people care enough collaboration become a beautiful soup. start with something basic, add some ideas, season with each others feedback, let it simmer, think a bit, add some more input, stir our brains together, and let it cook for just a while longer.
"i know! on outreach days we should do a family planning talk and let the women get their birth control then." sofie said.
"ummm, but in that case, they will always be expecting US to come to THEM. that is how they are. if we bring the birth control to them they will wait for us to return, they won't come to the clinic. perhaps we should do it here."
"here would be good. but we have to decide upon a day and do it weekly. maybe fridays?" sofie said, quickly correcting herself "oh no no, fridays are market days. howabout thursdays?"
"everybody will be preparing for the market, going to farm."
"wednesdays?"
brains were thinking, then a collaborative "YES!"
"okay, we'll have our women's day on wednesday's. hey! wednesday women's day!"
we all laughed.
vic said "i will go to town and talk to the churches, that way everybody will know to come on wednesday's. and i'll go to the mosque."
i was a bit confused. "will they support you?"
"oh you see, the women they meet in the week. the presby's meet on tuesday evenings, and the methodists meet on thursdays. the muslim women gather together on friday's, so it is like that. i will go to the women's groups and tell them about women's days, tell them to come to our talks. but when the men find out they won't allow their women to do family planning, so instead we won't mention it. we can talk about breast examination, cervical cancer, the importance of going for check-ups, and then... at the end... we will spend a lot of time educating them on family planning."
sofie left the room and in less than 5 minutes had all the staff gathered outside the office, including me and vic.
"we have to do these things when we think of them, or else we'll just sit around saying 'next week' 'next week'." vera, efreeyeh, kingsley, secetry, watchman, ma, vic and i were all crowded around. "so this is it. we've been talking in the office and have decided we need to prioritize. women in the village really need to know that we offer birth control at the clinic, and they need to be educated about their choices. so starting this wednesday we are going to do 'woman's days' where all this will take place. what time do you think we should do this?"
after a short time we all decided upon the morning, and everybody was excited.
we disbanded in unity and empowerment, saying...
"we have to let people know, spread the word!"
it was nice to be ignited by passion again.
Monday, February 19, 2007
#~#~$~$
"andrew and i are traveling this weekend if you'd like to come?"
i thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea to leave the village, it had been quite some time since i took a short vacation and i wouldn't mind tagging along. "where do you plan on going?" i asked.
"we want to go a little north of kumasi and visit a monkey sanctuary and some waterfalls, then go and see this project that Andrew is quite interested in. yeah?"
"okay, sure!" i hadn't been to any of those places, and trusted Andrew's interests- even though i had no idea what this 'project' would be. it'd be nice to see something new.
"i heard you can swim there, at the waterfalls." she said.
the idea of dunking myself in a body of water was exhilarating. we both let loose our widest whitest grins, knowing how simply luxurious this could be.
"we'll leave after work on friday and take monday off. does that work for you?"
"yep."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
when friday rolled around i let auntie know we wouldn't be there that weekend, and really i wasn't sure if she would care either way.
sakola wanted to be certain of all our travel details.
on my walk home from work i stopped over at collins house to say goodbye. "travel safe." he said.
"thanks collins."
he laughed. i can tell he thinks i'm really funny, but it's nothing i do on my own accord, my presence makes him burst out in glee. in some ways i feel like his favorite carnival ride, with an ego.
"hey where is nanakwame?" i asked.
"nanakwame, he, he is working today." and he pointed in the direction of the road.
nanakwame had just recently been hired as a mate, which was proving to be full time work. he hadn't been around for the past week, but i managed to cross his path if he came home late and i hadn't left his new place to go back to mine to sleep.
every tro tro in ghana has what is called "a mate". a mate is an integral person in the tro tro business. he is equally as important as the driver and more accessible. the way a chief has a linguist, a driver has a mate. all inquiries, complaints, and conversation should be directed to him.
a mate's job requires many things; hanging out the window announcing to crowds where the car is headed, taking money from all the passengers, changing flat tires, keeping the peace inside a tro tro, etc.
to catch a ride on a tro tro, one must only pay special attention to the mate, what he is saying and what his hands are doing as the car whizzes past. if the car is headed to accra, he'll point his hand far out ahead of him and wave it from front to back screaming "KRA KRA KRA KRA KRA!". if this is the destination you desire you stick out your arm and wiggle your hand around. the car will then pull over where ever you are standing and let you in.
i don't trust many mates. they tend to be sneaky and conniving. they always charge me extra because i'm white. i hand them my bill and they "forget" to give me my full change. they think they will get away with it until i remind them in a car full of 16 people. i like to sit in the middle, so i yell this to the front through everybody's ears.
"i might not be Ghanaian, but i do know the fare. you are cheating me, give me my change please."
i say this all in perfect twi, and on good days with a smile. once everybody hears me nobody holds back. the car bursts out in clapping and laughter, the mate is shamed for a second or two, and then i receive about 10 'you have done well's!'.
i thought about nanakwame, he's mischievous and sneaky, in an adorable way. i don't think he'd try to cheat me.
sofie hadn't gotten to know nanakwame yet, "he was always at work" she said.
"he just got this job." i replied, hoping he hadn't disappeared from my life forever.
it was strange to not have him around in my every day, and i was missing his palpable energy, but i was glad for him. work is not always easy to come by here, so i know it was making him happy.
i looked back at collins as i walked away. "tell nanakwame, when he gets home from work, that i say hi and bye and i'll be back on monday, sofie and i are leaving the village to travel with andrew."
"okay! see you!!!" he yelled back.
the weekend had officially begun, and i was looking forward to the adventure.
i thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea to leave the village, it had been quite some time since i took a short vacation and i wouldn't mind tagging along. "where do you plan on going?" i asked.
"we want to go a little north of kumasi and visit a monkey sanctuary and some waterfalls, then go and see this project that Andrew is quite interested in. yeah?"
"okay, sure!" i hadn't been to any of those places, and trusted Andrew's interests- even though i had no idea what this 'project' would be. it'd be nice to see something new.
"i heard you can swim there, at the waterfalls." she said.
the idea of dunking myself in a body of water was exhilarating. we both let loose our widest whitest grins, knowing how simply luxurious this could be.
"we'll leave after work on friday and take monday off. does that work for you?"
"yep."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
when friday rolled around i let auntie know we wouldn't be there that weekend, and really i wasn't sure if she would care either way.
sakola wanted to be certain of all our travel details.
on my walk home from work i stopped over at collins house to say goodbye. "travel safe." he said.
"thanks collins."
he laughed. i can tell he thinks i'm really funny, but it's nothing i do on my own accord, my presence makes him burst out in glee. in some ways i feel like his favorite carnival ride, with an ego.
"hey where is nanakwame?" i asked.
"nanakwame, he, he is working today." and he pointed in the direction of the road.
nanakwame had just recently been hired as a mate, which was proving to be full time work. he hadn't been around for the past week, but i managed to cross his path if he came home late and i hadn't left his new place to go back to mine to sleep.
every tro tro in ghana has what is called "a mate". a mate is an integral person in the tro tro business. he is equally as important as the driver and more accessible. the way a chief has a linguist, a driver has a mate. all inquiries, complaints, and conversation should be directed to him.
a mate's job requires many things; hanging out the window announcing to crowds where the car is headed, taking money from all the passengers, changing flat tires, keeping the peace inside a tro tro, etc.
to catch a ride on a tro tro, one must only pay special attention to the mate, what he is saying and what his hands are doing as the car whizzes past. if the car is headed to accra, he'll point his hand far out ahead of him and wave it from front to back screaming "KRA KRA KRA KRA KRA!". if this is the destination you desire you stick out your arm and wiggle your hand around. the car will then pull over where ever you are standing and let you in.
i don't trust many mates. they tend to be sneaky and conniving. they always charge me extra because i'm white. i hand them my bill and they "forget" to give me my full change. they think they will get away with it until i remind them in a car full of 16 people. i like to sit in the middle, so i yell this to the front through everybody's ears.
"i might not be Ghanaian, but i do know the fare. you are cheating me, give me my change please."
i say this all in perfect twi, and on good days with a smile. once everybody hears me nobody holds back. the car bursts out in clapping and laughter, the mate is shamed for a second or two, and then i receive about 10 'you have done well's!'.
i thought about nanakwame, he's mischievous and sneaky, in an adorable way. i don't think he'd try to cheat me.
sofie hadn't gotten to know nanakwame yet, "he was always at work" she said.
"he just got this job." i replied, hoping he hadn't disappeared from my life forever.
it was strange to not have him around in my every day, and i was missing his palpable energy, but i was glad for him. work is not always easy to come by here, so i know it was making him happy.
i looked back at collins as i walked away. "tell nanakwame, when he gets home from work, that i say hi and bye and i'll be back on monday, sofie and i are leaving the village to travel with andrew."
"okay! see you!!!" he yelled back.
the weekend had officially begun, and i was looking forward to the adventure.
corinthians comes to the rescue
sofie was dissecting the clinic, the way a good high school biologist would pick apart a dead frog.
on her second day at work, she pinpointed exactly who performed which duties and asked them each separately to explain to her what those were. then she skillfully interviewed them of any complaints they may have within their role and possible ways to solve them.
secetry talked about local villages needing boreholes dug and schools put in. she took notes and brainstormed ways to take steps to make that happen.
ma was upset she wasn't able to watch television. she also wanted to be given a moped. the vision of that made me laugh, but sofie maintained complete composure.
i watched her with each person and took special note of how she communicated. i liked the way she listened, it looked effortless and truly involved. somehow she conveyed extreme concern without wrinkling any part of her face. i decided she was beautiful.
her drive made me self-conscious. i stopped napping at work, and instead sat around and listened to her verbalize her visions.
she taught us all an early morning lesson on family planning, and had excellent teaching skills as well. Ma even noticed and asked me if sofie was a teacher back home. "no." i said, but Ma wouldn't believe it. "but she is very good at teaching, she must be a teacher." she said again.
her style was relaxed and down to earth, but she was pumped full of education, you could just tell. but deeper than that, there was something i couldn't quite figure out. it was the reason why i liked her so much. it was real, it was also elusive.
after lunch i sat in the office, typing stories and feeling a little useless at the clinic. benches were full of sick patients or people afflicted by mistakes or their own carelessness. sofie recommended i watch the suturing of the gash in a farmers knee, i would be doing a similar thing as a midwife one day. that was happening in the dressing room. i went in shortly and observed but the needle was so blunt and efreeyeh's hands were struggling to pierce through the flesh and i was beginning to feel a bit uneasy, so i left.
ma was perched, keeping close watch on the empty maternity ward and occasionally snoozing.
vera was busy in the dispensary, drug dealing and handling cash.
kingsley had his eye glued to the microscope, excited by the spotting of malaria parasites and handing in his results to Madame vic and Sophie, who set up treatment plans and helped people venture back towards health.
secetry was running around, filling out papers, doing errands, being a secetary.
i felt like a fish out of water, so retreated to the office and spent time with my close friend, the laptop. from time to time i would look out the window and realize i had no expertise to help any of the people i was spying on. why was i at this clinic?
i reminded myself of my mission. i wasn't coming to study medicine, or tropical disease, or even nursing. i was here to submerge myself in the life of midwifery. but still, i felt like a leech at best, a fraud at worst. i wasn't "helping", and i had ghosts from home whispering in my ears.
"kacie, you are amazing. going to a place like africa to help the poor."
"you're in our thoughts, you are such a humanitarian. you are one special girl."
i didn't come over here with those intentions, but somehow got pigeon holed into a certain category i had no place being included in. if only these people knew the truth. if only they knew i sat idly while villagers lined up to receive help from the real heroes.
i was having a hard time being easy on myself, when there wasn't a pregnant woman in sight to remind me of my goals, and the day was growing long.
sofie came in for a lunch break once the clinic cleared up a bit.
she sat back on the couch and asked me in between bites "do you know how to touch type?"
the question seemed funny, like asking if i knew how to skip.
"ya." i said, lowering my screen a bit so i could properly look at her.
some time passed with no conversation, so i continued typing. then i stopped again and asked her "did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?" expecting a firm 'yes' as a reply.
"no" she said "i decided 2 weeks before going into uni."
"really?" i laughed.
"i wanted to study history but i'm actually really horrible at reading and writing, so i picked medicine instead. there isn't much reading in medicine."
i was taken aback.
"and i'm horrible at spelling." she said.
come to mention it, i had noticed her spelling errors on the chalkboard during her morning health lessons. subconsciously i didn't believe a GP was allowed to be a bad speller, so i passed them off as awkward abbreviations.
i was feeling less bad about not being a doctor.
"i'm severely dyslexic." she said.
i was completely interested in whatever she had to say, so i just stayed silent.
"i moved to the uk from switzerland when i was 12 and i didn't speak any english. my teachers just kept saying my being dyslexic was because i was learning a new language, so i went through testing and the results were actually quite horrendous." her face had changed. it seemed more stiff and protected. all that she was sharing had brought out her vulnerable side. she stuttered a bit, not sure if she should keep going. "the specialist, he- yah. well, he-" ... "his diagnosis was really quite awful. he said somebody with the severity of my disability would be unlikely to pursue higher education. when i read that i thought 'stuff it' and worked like mad to get really high marks. then i applied to oxford!"
we both laughed.
"did you get in?" i asked.
"no, but i went to cambridge, which is still quite a good school. but really, i think most doctors are insecure and feel the need to prove themselves, if i hadn't i wouldn't have been able to make it through school. so i look at my learning disability as a blessing in a way, because if i didn't have it i'm sure i wouldn't be a doctor. i would have been satisfied with my intelligence and became lazy."
more silence, then...
"but growing up i was completely insecure about reading in class out loud or just reading in general, really. i hated it. it took me ages to finish a book and i still have a really difficult time with it."
that explained why Andrew, her boyfriend, read novels aloud to her when he came to visit on the weekends. i thought it was cute, but now it was sweet for entirely different reasons.
"in uni i met a friend who was just like me. we both had a really hard time remembering things, so we'd study together and draw pictures and memorize information in creative ways, which helped a lot..."
"...but i was told its good for dyslexic people to learn how to touch type, for some reason or another, i forget. maybe that can be one of my focuses while i'm here, can you teach me?"
"sure?!"
"have you ever taught touch typing before?"
"no, i haven't, but we can think something up."
she ran over to the desk and turned the computer and put her hands on the keys.
"oh now?" i asked.
"or whenever." she said self-consciously.
"now is fine" i said, trying to encourage her with a change in my voice.
we spent the next 20 minutes trying to think up ways to improve her typing. she was eager and excited to learn.
"first let's see what keys you already know." i said. "so when i ask you to press a letter, DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYBOARD!"
she nodded, ready like an attentive passenger during take off.
"a." i said.
she pressed down the "a" button a whole bunch of times.
"d."
ddddddd.
"f"
ggggggg.
"no, f."
kkkkkkk
"no, f."
nnnnnnn
i marked "f" as something she needed to practice.
we went through the alphabet just like that and came up with little lessons to strengthen her skill. the words of my high school typing teacher, a short round woman who was always in a pleasant mood, echoed in my ears. "i have alumni returning to my class every year to drop in and tell me that this class, typing, was the most important class they ever took." then she'd chuckle from the plain truth.
while i was working with sofie i stopped taking my speedy fingers for granted. i am a skilled typist, i thought, straightening up in my seat. i may not know how to sew up a cut but i can type a mean quick sentence, flawlessly. i delighted in creation, at how different we all are, and how god strings us all together into interrealtional harmony at just the perfect time, just before a tiny bout of afternoon office despair and insecurity reels me further into oblivion.
and then i smiled, knowing i believe in a god who knows me well, too well!
"now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of spirit to the common good. " 1st Corinthians 12 1-7...
"For the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot should say, "because i am not a hand, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. and if the ear should say, "because i am not an eye, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. if the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? if the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? but as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19.
sofie clapped her hands together a bunch of times and brought them close to her mouth as if she was going to chew off all her nails. she was obviously looking forward to conquering the keyboard with nervous anticipation, and i was glad to be of any help.
"do you think i'll be able to do it?" she asked.
"yes." i said "i'll help you."
on her second day at work, she pinpointed exactly who performed which duties and asked them each separately to explain to her what those were. then she skillfully interviewed them of any complaints they may have within their role and possible ways to solve them.
secetry talked about local villages needing boreholes dug and schools put in. she took notes and brainstormed ways to take steps to make that happen.
ma was upset she wasn't able to watch television. she also wanted to be given a moped. the vision of that made me laugh, but sofie maintained complete composure.
i watched her with each person and took special note of how she communicated. i liked the way she listened, it looked effortless and truly involved. somehow she conveyed extreme concern without wrinkling any part of her face. i decided she was beautiful.
her drive made me self-conscious. i stopped napping at work, and instead sat around and listened to her verbalize her visions.
she taught us all an early morning lesson on family planning, and had excellent teaching skills as well. Ma even noticed and asked me if sofie was a teacher back home. "no." i said, but Ma wouldn't believe it. "but she is very good at teaching, she must be a teacher." she said again.
her style was relaxed and down to earth, but she was pumped full of education, you could just tell. but deeper than that, there was something i couldn't quite figure out. it was the reason why i liked her so much. it was real, it was also elusive.
after lunch i sat in the office, typing stories and feeling a little useless at the clinic. benches were full of sick patients or people afflicted by mistakes or their own carelessness. sofie recommended i watch the suturing of the gash in a farmers knee, i would be doing a similar thing as a midwife one day. that was happening in the dressing room. i went in shortly and observed but the needle was so blunt and efreeyeh's hands were struggling to pierce through the flesh and i was beginning to feel a bit uneasy, so i left.
ma was perched, keeping close watch on the empty maternity ward and occasionally snoozing.
vera was busy in the dispensary, drug dealing and handling cash.
kingsley had his eye glued to the microscope, excited by the spotting of malaria parasites and handing in his results to Madame vic and Sophie, who set up treatment plans and helped people venture back towards health.
secetry was running around, filling out papers, doing errands, being a secetary.
i felt like a fish out of water, so retreated to the office and spent time with my close friend, the laptop. from time to time i would look out the window and realize i had no expertise to help any of the people i was spying on. why was i at this clinic?
i reminded myself of my mission. i wasn't coming to study medicine, or tropical disease, or even nursing. i was here to submerge myself in the life of midwifery. but still, i felt like a leech at best, a fraud at worst. i wasn't "helping", and i had ghosts from home whispering in my ears.
"kacie, you are amazing. going to a place like africa to help the poor."
"you're in our thoughts, you are such a humanitarian. you are one special girl."
i didn't come over here with those intentions, but somehow got pigeon holed into a certain category i had no place being included in. if only these people knew the truth. if only they knew i sat idly while villagers lined up to receive help from the real heroes.
i was having a hard time being easy on myself, when there wasn't a pregnant woman in sight to remind me of my goals, and the day was growing long.
sofie came in for a lunch break once the clinic cleared up a bit.
she sat back on the couch and asked me in between bites "do you know how to touch type?"
the question seemed funny, like asking if i knew how to skip.
"ya." i said, lowering my screen a bit so i could properly look at her.
some time passed with no conversation, so i continued typing. then i stopped again and asked her "did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?" expecting a firm 'yes' as a reply.
"no" she said "i decided 2 weeks before going into uni."
"really?" i laughed.
"i wanted to study history but i'm actually really horrible at reading and writing, so i picked medicine instead. there isn't much reading in medicine."
i was taken aback.
"and i'm horrible at spelling." she said.
come to mention it, i had noticed her spelling errors on the chalkboard during her morning health lessons. subconsciously i didn't believe a GP was allowed to be a bad speller, so i passed them off as awkward abbreviations.
i was feeling less bad about not being a doctor.
"i'm severely dyslexic." she said.
i was completely interested in whatever she had to say, so i just stayed silent.
"i moved to the uk from switzerland when i was 12 and i didn't speak any english. my teachers just kept saying my being dyslexic was because i was learning a new language, so i went through testing and the results were actually quite horrendous." her face had changed. it seemed more stiff and protected. all that she was sharing had brought out her vulnerable side. she stuttered a bit, not sure if she should keep going. "the specialist, he- yah. well, he-" ... "his diagnosis was really quite awful. he said somebody with the severity of my disability would be unlikely to pursue higher education. when i read that i thought 'stuff it' and worked like mad to get really high marks. then i applied to oxford!"
we both laughed.
"did you get in?" i asked.
"no, but i went to cambridge, which is still quite a good school. but really, i think most doctors are insecure and feel the need to prove themselves, if i hadn't i wouldn't have been able to make it through school. so i look at my learning disability as a blessing in a way, because if i didn't have it i'm sure i wouldn't be a doctor. i would have been satisfied with my intelligence and became lazy."
more silence, then...
"but growing up i was completely insecure about reading in class out loud or just reading in general, really. i hated it. it took me ages to finish a book and i still have a really difficult time with it."
that explained why Andrew, her boyfriend, read novels aloud to her when he came to visit on the weekends. i thought it was cute, but now it was sweet for entirely different reasons.
"in uni i met a friend who was just like me. we both had a really hard time remembering things, so we'd study together and draw pictures and memorize information in creative ways, which helped a lot..."
"...but i was told its good for dyslexic people to learn how to touch type, for some reason or another, i forget. maybe that can be one of my focuses while i'm here, can you teach me?"
"sure?!"
"have you ever taught touch typing before?"
"no, i haven't, but we can think something up."
she ran over to the desk and turned the computer and put her hands on the keys.
"oh now?" i asked.
"or whenever." she said self-consciously.
"now is fine" i said, trying to encourage her with a change in my voice.
we spent the next 20 minutes trying to think up ways to improve her typing. she was eager and excited to learn.
"first let's see what keys you already know." i said. "so when i ask you to press a letter, DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYBOARD!"
she nodded, ready like an attentive passenger during take off.
"a." i said.
she pressed down the "a" button a whole bunch of times.
"d."
ddddddd.
"f"
ggggggg.
"no, f."
kkkkkkk
"no, f."
nnnnnnn
i marked "f" as something she needed to practice.
we went through the alphabet just like that and came up with little lessons to strengthen her skill. the words of my high school typing teacher, a short round woman who was always in a pleasant mood, echoed in my ears. "i have alumni returning to my class every year to drop in and tell me that this class, typing, was the most important class they ever took." then she'd chuckle from the plain truth.
while i was working with sofie i stopped taking my speedy fingers for granted. i am a skilled typist, i thought, straightening up in my seat. i may not know how to sew up a cut but i can type a mean quick sentence, flawlessly. i delighted in creation, at how different we all are, and how god strings us all together into interrealtional harmony at just the perfect time, just before a tiny bout of afternoon office despair and insecurity reels me further into oblivion.
and then i smiled, knowing i believe in a god who knows me well, too well!
"now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of spirit to the common good. " 1st Corinthians 12 1-7...
"For the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot should say, "because i am not a hand, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. and if the ear should say, "because i am not an eye, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. if the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? if the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? but as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19.
sofie clapped her hands together a bunch of times and brought them close to her mouth as if she was going to chew off all her nails. she was obviously looking forward to conquering the keyboard with nervous anticipation, and i was glad to be of any help.
"do you think i'll be able to do it?" she asked.
"yes." i said "i'll help you."
auntie unravels
"africans are really moody." sofie mentioned, as we were walking across the courtyard into our house. i wasn't sure why she thought that and i was finding her perceptions to be quite different than mine. "sakola in particular."
i took a moment to reflect on sakola's moods, which had seemed to be either hot or cold since sofie arrived, but i knew where they were stemming from.
"well sakola has been a bit moody, but there is a lot going on in his life right now. i think it's affecting him."
"like what?" she asked.
"auntie, mostly, and a few other added pressures."
"what's aunties problem?"
in the past few weeks it seemed she had a bundle load. each night we came home to her walking in little circles, mumbling her worries and complaints out to the universe. then the moment she spied sakola she'd reel him in with her sticky tentacles and chew him out for hours regarding things made up or having nothing to do with him.
"what has sakola done to auntie? she's quite difficult isn't she?"
i wasn't sure if auntie wanted any of us around. her son was supposed to be staying for a few days, and his visit was lasting weeks. the first few days he arrived went great. we spent the long dark hours of the night sitting around the dining room table while he inspired me with long monologues of living life as a walking tabernacle of acceptance and love. he spoke of an earth permeated with the love of god, agape love, unconditional and unchanging. then he talked of inviting that love to live in oneself, to fill up on it and essentially overflow with it. "are you following me?" he'd continuously ask. i'd just nod, waiting to hear more.
i really loved those late night chats, and my heart began to open up to him and feel glad we were sharing a living space.
but as the days grew on, seth became more and more antisocial. to deal with his strange behavior i was forced to make believe elaborate stories. i settled on this rough version:
him coming to visit his mother for his last few days on earth after finding out he only had a short while to live, less than a week. in that time he shone with gratitude and a deep inner peace, the way i imagine some people close to death might be. but as time passed, and he was still alive, he began to grow bitter and confused, just spending the days waiting to die, pissed off that he hadn't. and if he was planning on accomplishing anything in his final days, it was to convince his foreigner roommate he secretly could be a psychopath waiting for the perfect time to commit his strange crime that had everything to do with her.
because of this, i started to ignore him, which was easy, considering he stopped paying me any attention long before i had made up this decision, or this story. he and i were sharing a joint bathroom with a door that didn't lock. i set up secret traps to see if he was coming in my room when i wasn't there. i strung dental floss across the doorway in 3 places and shut the door. if i came home and any of my trap looked messed up or suspicious, i would have to confront the issue.
the floss never moved.
i didn't want him using my soap either, but continuously forgot it after bathing. when i'd remember the next morning i'd check it closely for dark curly hairs.
sofie was a little more proactive and practical. she used her medical expertise and some spare time and diagnosed him.
"oh he's harmless." she said, after i hinted at my suspicions. "he's just depressed."
"but you don't think he's dying of something terminal?" i said.
"no there is nothing the matter with him physically!" she said, a bit annoyed with his situation.
"then why is sakola doing everything for him?" that last saturday i was planning to go to town with sakola, and just as we were about to leave, seth walked into the kitchen and told us he wanted soup. sakola canceled our plans to spend hours making soup, then delivered it to his room, where it sat untouched until nighttime getting cold.
"because he's lazy." sofie said.
i still didn't believe her. something HAD to be the matter with him. he didn't eat, hardly slept, and spent long hours squatting in dark corners. it worried me. countless times i assumed i was alone, whether sitting on the porch looking at the stars, or in the living room stretching in the dark. eventually i'd hear a little cough. each time i wondered why he hadn't greeted me, and then i'd ask, a bit annoyed.
"oh i didn't see you there." he say.
i told sofie. "he said he doesn't see me there! how can he not, i'm less than 10 feet away from him! it's creeping me out!"
she thought about it and replied "maybe he doesn't see you there? severe depression can make you incredibly self-obsessed."
"but i called out in the dark asking if anyone was home. there is no way, he had to have seen me."
"yeah. huh?" she said. a few seconds later... "what was auntie screaming about last night?"
"she was mad at sakola because nanakwame left the gate open and the chicken got out and now it's gone. but i don't know why she was yelling at him."
"oh no." she said. "it was probably me. i leave the gate open all the time."
"we all do, nobody has ever told us to close it. and any way, i don't know why she cares, sakola was the one who bought the chicken."
later that night, sofie and i decided to go into town and get a drink. sakola came with us also, but ordered a coca cola classic. christians don't drink beer, he said.
it was about 8:30 when we all started to get tired. "let's go home" we decided.
when we reached our front door and pushed on it to get in, it was locked. sakola sighed, deep.
i pushed on the door again.
still locked.
"auntie." he said, shaking his head.
we peered through the window and saw the glow of a lantern. i was sure she was in there.
"call her to open the door for us." i said.
sakola called auntie's name a few times, but no response.
i was incredulous. she knew we were standing outside, waiting to come in. we could hear her breathing, raspy and hoarse.
"AUNTIE!" i yelled, loudly. "AUNTIE, we're hoooommmme!!!"
still nothing, so i kept at it. "AUNTIE!!! AUNTIE!!!"
then she interrupted me in twi, more upset than i had ever heard her.
sakola was sitting, listening to her rant, shaking his head between his legs. then she said in english "you can go find somewhere else to sleep. quit disturbing!"
i looked at sofie and then at sakola. was she serious? she wouldn't open the door for us? it wasn't yet 9 p.m., a seemingly acceptable time to come home before this night, and she was awake.
she was still going on in twi. "what is she saying?" sofie asked.
"she's saying she won't open the door for us, we have to go into town and find somewhere to sleep. collin's mother's house or something?"
i couldn't hold back. "auntie- this is our house. let us in! we pay rent here, we aren't going into town to sleep!" i hollered. i felt very american basing the argument off the fact that i paid to live there, but it was true.
sakola walked over to the window and took 5 minutes to convince her to open the door for us. she was reluctant and came out to the porch to finish us off with some more yelling. she was dressed in a blue pilots uniform, which only added to her absurdity.
"who is the one who speaks twi?" she asked sofie.
"i don't speak twi!" she replied.
so auntie came over to me and told me 9 was too late, she doesn't run a hostel, and we were causing her problems.
i didn't want to argue so i just listened and finished it by saying "yooooo" which means, okay. then she turned and went into the house.
i stayed outside for a lot longer, fearing her presence.
"you and sofie, when you go" sakola said "i'm moving. i won't stay here. in may, i'm moving."
"i completely understand." i said.
i looked at him and admired him in some ways; mostly for the graceful way he put up with auntie on a daily basis and for how he continuously helped seth out despite the circumstances. i vowed to learn a lesson from this, although i wasn't quite sure what exactly that would be.
i took a moment to reflect on sakola's moods, which had seemed to be either hot or cold since sofie arrived, but i knew where they were stemming from.
"well sakola has been a bit moody, but there is a lot going on in his life right now. i think it's affecting him."
"like what?" she asked.
"auntie, mostly, and a few other added pressures."
"what's aunties problem?"
in the past few weeks it seemed she had a bundle load. each night we came home to her walking in little circles, mumbling her worries and complaints out to the universe. then the moment she spied sakola she'd reel him in with her sticky tentacles and chew him out for hours regarding things made up or having nothing to do with him.
"what has sakola done to auntie? she's quite difficult isn't she?"
i wasn't sure if auntie wanted any of us around. her son was supposed to be staying for a few days, and his visit was lasting weeks. the first few days he arrived went great. we spent the long dark hours of the night sitting around the dining room table while he inspired me with long monologues of living life as a walking tabernacle of acceptance and love. he spoke of an earth permeated with the love of god, agape love, unconditional and unchanging. then he talked of inviting that love to live in oneself, to fill up on it and essentially overflow with it. "are you following me?" he'd continuously ask. i'd just nod, waiting to hear more.
i really loved those late night chats, and my heart began to open up to him and feel glad we were sharing a living space.
but as the days grew on, seth became more and more antisocial. to deal with his strange behavior i was forced to make believe elaborate stories. i settled on this rough version:
him coming to visit his mother for his last few days on earth after finding out he only had a short while to live, less than a week. in that time he shone with gratitude and a deep inner peace, the way i imagine some people close to death might be. but as time passed, and he was still alive, he began to grow bitter and confused, just spending the days waiting to die, pissed off that he hadn't. and if he was planning on accomplishing anything in his final days, it was to convince his foreigner roommate he secretly could be a psychopath waiting for the perfect time to commit his strange crime that had everything to do with her.
because of this, i started to ignore him, which was easy, considering he stopped paying me any attention long before i had made up this decision, or this story. he and i were sharing a joint bathroom with a door that didn't lock. i set up secret traps to see if he was coming in my room when i wasn't there. i strung dental floss across the doorway in 3 places and shut the door. if i came home and any of my trap looked messed up or suspicious, i would have to confront the issue.
the floss never moved.
i didn't want him using my soap either, but continuously forgot it after bathing. when i'd remember the next morning i'd check it closely for dark curly hairs.
sofie was a little more proactive and practical. she used her medical expertise and some spare time and diagnosed him.
"oh he's harmless." she said, after i hinted at my suspicions. "he's just depressed."
"but you don't think he's dying of something terminal?" i said.
"no there is nothing the matter with him physically!" she said, a bit annoyed with his situation.
"then why is sakola doing everything for him?" that last saturday i was planning to go to town with sakola, and just as we were about to leave, seth walked into the kitchen and told us he wanted soup. sakola canceled our plans to spend hours making soup, then delivered it to his room, where it sat untouched until nighttime getting cold.
"because he's lazy." sofie said.
i still didn't believe her. something HAD to be the matter with him. he didn't eat, hardly slept, and spent long hours squatting in dark corners. it worried me. countless times i assumed i was alone, whether sitting on the porch looking at the stars, or in the living room stretching in the dark. eventually i'd hear a little cough. each time i wondered why he hadn't greeted me, and then i'd ask, a bit annoyed.
"oh i didn't see you there." he say.
i told sofie. "he said he doesn't see me there! how can he not, i'm less than 10 feet away from him! it's creeping me out!"
she thought about it and replied "maybe he doesn't see you there? severe depression can make you incredibly self-obsessed."
"but i called out in the dark asking if anyone was home. there is no way, he had to have seen me."
"yeah. huh?" she said. a few seconds later... "what was auntie screaming about last night?"
"she was mad at sakola because nanakwame left the gate open and the chicken got out and now it's gone. but i don't know why she was yelling at him."
"oh no." she said. "it was probably me. i leave the gate open all the time."
"we all do, nobody has ever told us to close it. and any way, i don't know why she cares, sakola was the one who bought the chicken."
later that night, sofie and i decided to go into town and get a drink. sakola came with us also, but ordered a coca cola classic. christians don't drink beer, he said.
it was about 8:30 when we all started to get tired. "let's go home" we decided.
when we reached our front door and pushed on it to get in, it was locked. sakola sighed, deep.
i pushed on the door again.
still locked.
"auntie." he said, shaking his head.
we peered through the window and saw the glow of a lantern. i was sure she was in there.
"call her to open the door for us." i said.
sakola called auntie's name a few times, but no response.
i was incredulous. she knew we were standing outside, waiting to come in. we could hear her breathing, raspy and hoarse.
"AUNTIE!" i yelled, loudly. "AUNTIE, we're hoooommmme!!!"
still nothing, so i kept at it. "AUNTIE!!! AUNTIE!!!"
then she interrupted me in twi, more upset than i had ever heard her.
sakola was sitting, listening to her rant, shaking his head between his legs. then she said in english "you can go find somewhere else to sleep. quit disturbing!"
i looked at sofie and then at sakola. was she serious? she wouldn't open the door for us? it wasn't yet 9 p.m., a seemingly acceptable time to come home before this night, and she was awake.
she was still going on in twi. "what is she saying?" sofie asked.
"she's saying she won't open the door for us, we have to go into town and find somewhere to sleep. collin's mother's house or something?"
i couldn't hold back. "auntie- this is our house. let us in! we pay rent here, we aren't going into town to sleep!" i hollered. i felt very american basing the argument off the fact that i paid to live there, but it was true.
sakola walked over to the window and took 5 minutes to convince her to open the door for us. she was reluctant and came out to the porch to finish us off with some more yelling. she was dressed in a blue pilots uniform, which only added to her absurdity.
"who is the one who speaks twi?" she asked sofie.
"i don't speak twi!" she replied.
so auntie came over to me and told me 9 was too late, she doesn't run a hostel, and we were causing her problems.
i didn't want to argue so i just listened and finished it by saying "yooooo" which means, okay. then she turned and went into the house.
i stayed outside for a lot longer, fearing her presence.
"you and sofie, when you go" sakola said "i'm moving. i won't stay here. in may, i'm moving."
"i completely understand." i said.
i looked at him and admired him in some ways; mostly for the graceful way he put up with auntie on a daily basis and for how he continuously helped seth out despite the circumstances. i vowed to learn a lesson from this, although i wasn't quite sure what exactly that would be.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
John Chapter 8
late one afternoon, on my walk home from the clinic, Tanko met me on the road and walked me the rest of the way. we chatted about our day and the soccer game we had both played in that previous sunday.
our team had loaded up into the back of a big truck and gone to play a game in a local village. the entire drive there i was getting tossed around in between sweaty armpits and loud singing. while leading the cheers, Tanko also kept swatting people to give me a little space, but i really didn't mind. i was having fun being 'one of the boys'.
as we walked along the road, we talked of our similar complaints against the referree, who called the two teams together at the beginning, declaring it a 'friendly match' but who was obviously biased. he let the game get overly rowdy and made calls only against our team. at half time a fist fight almost broke out between him and one of our mid-fielders. it was apparent the pre-match speech was really just him publically trying to remind himself to stifle his bad temper.
"well thanks for walking me" i said to Tanko.
he opened the gate to let me into my courtyard.
"oh not a problem. see you at training." he said, as he walked off.
i turned around and made my way towards the porch. auntie was sitting there, growling at me.
"good afternoon auntie." i said.
she started hitting the air, as if trying to combat a swarm of invisible bees. every day she was growing more and more odd.
I waited for her storm to subside. Then I walked up the stairs and began to make my way into the house. Just then auntie turned back and shouted at me between mumbles...
“I will beat you! Stop doing that!”
she looked genuinely angry about something so I stayed put, but she just turned her back to me and continued being upset.
Just then sakola walked down the hallway in my direction. I rolled my eyes and pointed in aunties direction, as if to warn him.
He pretend slapped the side of my head and told me in twi he was going to abuse me. This language is harsh for a native English speaker, but I had grown used to how Ghanaians use it so I wasn’t too offended. But still, I wondered what everyone was mad at me about?
The two of them were now sitting side by side on the porch, ganging up on me.
“why will you beat me?” I asked auntie directly.
She answered passionately in twi, something about a thief and my friend.
“sakola I don’t understand.”
Although auntie was the more fluent of the two it didn’t look like she was going to attempt English any time soon.
“she will beat you kessy!”
“yes I know, I already heard that.”
“she will beat you because you bring that boy here. He’s a bad boy kessy.” Then he gave me that same look, the one I had gotten from him the morning Tanko woke me before work.
“Tanko?” I asked.
Auntie hollered at me like a fierce lion. “KEEP HIM OUT!!!!!!”
“come” sakola said, ushering me into the house. He closed the door. “akua, that boy is bad. He go to accra steal from the white people and run. The police, they come here and find him…” then he pantomimed being handcuffed and dragged away. “he’s bad, and you are making friends with him, its no good, no good at all.”
“I didn’t know.” I wondered why it took them 2 months to tell me I had been walking with the town thief. I quickly recounted all the times I had let him into my room.
Once.
Then I went down the list of all the times I had left my purse unattended in his company.
Never.
Thirdly I thought about him, as an individual.
I liked him. He kept pleasant company.
Was it because he was planning on robbing me or because he was a nice person who just happened to do something stupid? In a village reputation is everything, and as I was witnessing, one bad move will forever taint your future.
Sakola’s lips began to sneer in disapproval, and my thoughts were following them. So tanko is a thief who enjoys stealing from foreigners. This entire time he has been placating me, I thought, waiting for the perfect moment to move in and make a fortune off the naïve white girl. My initial assumption had been correct, when I looked at his skinny body and questioned how he got along. Apparently he didn’t need to work hard living off of funds taken from somebody else.
I looked at sakola.
“okay.” I said, firm in my decision. “I won’t walk with him anymore.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Secetry, Kingsley and I were taking a stroll through the village visiting friends and enjoying each other’s company. It was late in the day and Kingsley’s cologne had worn off some so I was able to stand in between them while we stopped at the football pitch to watch a match that was close to finishing.
Tanko was playing left forward.
"i saw you walking with that boy there kacie." kingsley said, pointing at tanko. "people have been telling me that." he stated it more as a conversation piece than a warning or admonishment. his humble nature invited my question.
"do you know much about him?"
"oh not so much. but he is not very good at football. see the way he is running? he isn't fast. you have to be fast! back in my home village, everybody knows me as the talented footballer."
secetry interrupted. "akua kessie plays football!"
"yes, in my town i am known as the talented footballer. when you come there, you can ask, just say 'kingsley' and everybody will tell you 'oh kingsley, he is a talented footballer', really, just go and ask. so when i look at this boy here, he doesn't play nicely. you see?"
all three of us moved our heads to look at the ball floating high in the sky. as it descended, Tanko jumped up high and headed it into the goal. his team cheered and ran into one another, embracing as if it was the world cup.
we all looked at each other and laughed.
"that was nice." i said.
"yes, it was." kingsley agreed.
"very nice." secetry added. "but any way, that boy, he is a troublemaker."
"you shouldn't be keeping company with him" kingsley said.
tanko looked over at us and made eye contact with me. he gave a friendly wave. he was beaming from his most recent accomplishment. i lifted my head ever so slightly and then stared at the ground.
"lets keep walking." i suggested. i didn't want to be around after the game had ended, because i still didn't know how to interact with my ex-friend.
as we all were strolling along i sought a little advice. "so say i wanted to ignore tanko, how does a person do that in a village? i see him everywhere."
"well" kinglsey advised "when he walks up to you, you should just tell him you aren't interested and do this." he waved his arms around like he was drowning.
it seemed a bit dramatic, and i couldn't imagine it coming naturally. 'sorry tanko, i'm not interested!' wave wave flutter flutter. he'd have no frame of reference. i'd just appear crazy.
"...and why do you guys think he's a bad boy?"
"oh because the police came and arrested him. he was taking money from people in accra." secetry said.
i had known he lived in accra, he told me he was a houseboy for some missionaries. this was after i complimented him on how well he spoke english.
"did you see him being arrested?"
"yes, the police came to his house and brought him out in handcuffs. everybody in the village knows, we all saw."
"when was this?"
"about 2 years back."
i spent a little while longer walking with my friends and then i told them i was heading home.
on the stretch back to my house i prayed for some guidance.
Tanko may have made a poor choice in his life but i am a christian, which means, i am supposed to love the sinner and hate the sin, right? i didn't feel comfortable letting him into my personal space anymore, and wouldn't dare have him face auntie in fear of an explosion, but i couldn't justify turning my back and running every time i saw him in town. i thought he was a nice guy.
i reflected on my past.
i had stolen a lot in my life. when i was 16, me and my 2 best friends, got chased and handcuffed by police in an outdoor mall, ending my 2 year spree of teenage kleptomania. who was i to judge? in my case, i was blessed to have come from a big city.
i thought of the bible, of the adulteress woman who was caught with her lover. as the story goes, she was dragged outside to be punished, to have stones thrown at her body. when the officials asked jesus how he thought she should be dealt with, he replied after a long time of silence "he who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first."
in time, Jesus was left standing with the woman, alone.
i decided i was going to drop the rock from my sweaty palm and keep our relationship exactly how it was. i was going to continue playing soccer with him, and walking through the village with him, and being his friend. but the next time he approached me i was going to tell him what i knew. i like being honest, and i like hearing what is on people's hearts. this would make for an interesting conversation with him, and a future of interesting conversations with all the townspeople.
"you must stop walking with that boy. he is a theif."
"i know he's a theif, we already talked."
once again, i couldn't escape the potentcy of village life, of the directness, the accessibiltily, the lack of privacy. i wondered how Tanko even got along? who were his true friends, how did his neighbors treat him?
he had brought me to his living quarters once, it was a small mud structure divided into two. he lived on the right, his mother on the left. he had two white cats that responded lovingly to his voice, following him from the outside to the inside, inside to the outside.
"those are my pets." he giggled."i like animals."
they appeared to be quite fond of him also. and i wondered why we humans have such a complicated system to loving. sometimes, i thought, it might just be easier if we were a little more like Tanko's pets, or a little more like God, free to love regardless of circumstance.
our team had loaded up into the back of a big truck and gone to play a game in a local village. the entire drive there i was getting tossed around in between sweaty armpits and loud singing. while leading the cheers, Tanko also kept swatting people to give me a little space, but i really didn't mind. i was having fun being 'one of the boys'.
as we walked along the road, we talked of our similar complaints against the referree, who called the two teams together at the beginning, declaring it a 'friendly match' but who was obviously biased. he let the game get overly rowdy and made calls only against our team. at half time a fist fight almost broke out between him and one of our mid-fielders. it was apparent the pre-match speech was really just him publically trying to remind himself to stifle his bad temper.
"well thanks for walking me" i said to Tanko.
he opened the gate to let me into my courtyard.
"oh not a problem. see you at training." he said, as he walked off.
i turned around and made my way towards the porch. auntie was sitting there, growling at me.
"good afternoon auntie." i said.
she started hitting the air, as if trying to combat a swarm of invisible bees. every day she was growing more and more odd.
I waited for her storm to subside. Then I walked up the stairs and began to make my way into the house. Just then auntie turned back and shouted at me between mumbles...
“I will beat you! Stop doing that!”
she looked genuinely angry about something so I stayed put, but she just turned her back to me and continued being upset.
Just then sakola walked down the hallway in my direction. I rolled my eyes and pointed in aunties direction, as if to warn him.
He pretend slapped the side of my head and told me in twi he was going to abuse me. This language is harsh for a native English speaker, but I had grown used to how Ghanaians use it so I wasn’t too offended. But still, I wondered what everyone was mad at me about?
The two of them were now sitting side by side on the porch, ganging up on me.
“why will you beat me?” I asked auntie directly.
She answered passionately in twi, something about a thief and my friend.
“sakola I don’t understand.”
Although auntie was the more fluent of the two it didn’t look like she was going to attempt English any time soon.
“she will beat you kessy!”
“yes I know, I already heard that.”
“she will beat you because you bring that boy here. He’s a bad boy kessy.” Then he gave me that same look, the one I had gotten from him the morning Tanko woke me before work.
“Tanko?” I asked.
Auntie hollered at me like a fierce lion. “KEEP HIM OUT!!!!!!”
“come” sakola said, ushering me into the house. He closed the door. “akua, that boy is bad. He go to accra steal from the white people and run. The police, they come here and find him…” then he pantomimed being handcuffed and dragged away. “he’s bad, and you are making friends with him, its no good, no good at all.”
“I didn’t know.” I wondered why it took them 2 months to tell me I had been walking with the town thief. I quickly recounted all the times I had let him into my room.
Once.
Then I went down the list of all the times I had left my purse unattended in his company.
Never.
Thirdly I thought about him, as an individual.
I liked him. He kept pleasant company.
Was it because he was planning on robbing me or because he was a nice person who just happened to do something stupid? In a village reputation is everything, and as I was witnessing, one bad move will forever taint your future.
Sakola’s lips began to sneer in disapproval, and my thoughts were following them. So tanko is a thief who enjoys stealing from foreigners. This entire time he has been placating me, I thought, waiting for the perfect moment to move in and make a fortune off the naïve white girl. My initial assumption had been correct, when I looked at his skinny body and questioned how he got along. Apparently he didn’t need to work hard living off of funds taken from somebody else.
I looked at sakola.
“okay.” I said, firm in my decision. “I won’t walk with him anymore.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Secetry, Kingsley and I were taking a stroll through the village visiting friends and enjoying each other’s company. It was late in the day and Kingsley’s cologne had worn off some so I was able to stand in between them while we stopped at the football pitch to watch a match that was close to finishing.
Tanko was playing left forward.
"i saw you walking with that boy there kacie." kingsley said, pointing at tanko. "people have been telling me that." he stated it more as a conversation piece than a warning or admonishment. his humble nature invited my question.
"do you know much about him?"
"oh not so much. but he is not very good at football. see the way he is running? he isn't fast. you have to be fast! back in my home village, everybody knows me as the talented footballer."
secetry interrupted. "akua kessie plays football!"
"yes, in my town i am known as the talented footballer. when you come there, you can ask, just say 'kingsley' and everybody will tell you 'oh kingsley, he is a talented footballer', really, just go and ask. so when i look at this boy here, he doesn't play nicely. you see?"
all three of us moved our heads to look at the ball floating high in the sky. as it descended, Tanko jumped up high and headed it into the goal. his team cheered and ran into one another, embracing as if it was the world cup.
we all looked at each other and laughed.
"that was nice." i said.
"yes, it was." kingsley agreed.
"very nice." secetry added. "but any way, that boy, he is a troublemaker."
"you shouldn't be keeping company with him" kingsley said.
tanko looked over at us and made eye contact with me. he gave a friendly wave. he was beaming from his most recent accomplishment. i lifted my head ever so slightly and then stared at the ground.
"lets keep walking." i suggested. i didn't want to be around after the game had ended, because i still didn't know how to interact with my ex-friend.
as we all were strolling along i sought a little advice. "so say i wanted to ignore tanko, how does a person do that in a village? i see him everywhere."
"well" kinglsey advised "when he walks up to you, you should just tell him you aren't interested and do this." he waved his arms around like he was drowning.
it seemed a bit dramatic, and i couldn't imagine it coming naturally. 'sorry tanko, i'm not interested!' wave wave flutter flutter. he'd have no frame of reference. i'd just appear crazy.
"...and why do you guys think he's a bad boy?"
"oh because the police came and arrested him. he was taking money from people in accra." secetry said.
i had known he lived in accra, he told me he was a houseboy for some missionaries. this was after i complimented him on how well he spoke english.
"did you see him being arrested?"
"yes, the police came to his house and brought him out in handcuffs. everybody in the village knows, we all saw."
"when was this?"
"about 2 years back."
i spent a little while longer walking with my friends and then i told them i was heading home.
on the stretch back to my house i prayed for some guidance.
Tanko may have made a poor choice in his life but i am a christian, which means, i am supposed to love the sinner and hate the sin, right? i didn't feel comfortable letting him into my personal space anymore, and wouldn't dare have him face auntie in fear of an explosion, but i couldn't justify turning my back and running every time i saw him in town. i thought he was a nice guy.
i reflected on my past.
i had stolen a lot in my life. when i was 16, me and my 2 best friends, got chased and handcuffed by police in an outdoor mall, ending my 2 year spree of teenage kleptomania. who was i to judge? in my case, i was blessed to have come from a big city.
i thought of the bible, of the adulteress woman who was caught with her lover. as the story goes, she was dragged outside to be punished, to have stones thrown at her body. when the officials asked jesus how he thought she should be dealt with, he replied after a long time of silence "he who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first."
in time, Jesus was left standing with the woman, alone.
i decided i was going to drop the rock from my sweaty palm and keep our relationship exactly how it was. i was going to continue playing soccer with him, and walking through the village with him, and being his friend. but the next time he approached me i was going to tell him what i knew. i like being honest, and i like hearing what is on people's hearts. this would make for an interesting conversation with him, and a future of interesting conversations with all the townspeople.
"you must stop walking with that boy. he is a theif."
"i know he's a theif, we already talked."
once again, i couldn't escape the potentcy of village life, of the directness, the accessibiltily, the lack of privacy. i wondered how Tanko even got along? who were his true friends, how did his neighbors treat him?
he had brought me to his living quarters once, it was a small mud structure divided into two. he lived on the right, his mother on the left. he had two white cats that responded lovingly to his voice, following him from the outside to the inside, inside to the outside.
"those are my pets." he giggled."i like animals."
they appeared to be quite fond of him also. and i wondered why we humans have such a complicated system to loving. sometimes, i thought, it might just be easier if we were a little more like Tanko's pets, or a little more like God, free to love regardless of circumstance.
the one week celebration
i had seen Secetry late the night before, while Sofie, Sakola and I were on our way in the dark, walking to the clinic. Collins had malaria so we went to get him some medicine. during the walk i heard a million 'akua kacie's' and i decided to answer each one. i was in a sociable mood.
sakola and sofie kept walking while i chatted with my friends. each time i caught up with them another 'akua kacie' would make me fall behind.
one of them was secetry.
'i saw you playing football today!" he said. "you are good. ahhahaha."
"thank you."
"ahhh akkkuuaa!" and he gave me a little slap. "tomorrow we will go to the one week celebration. you won't go to work, you'll come with me."
"okay."
"see you then."
"bye!"
i skipped ahead. sakola and sofie had almost reached the clinic. this week was going to be a strain on the health center, only because Vic's mother died a week earlier so she planned to be out, and just as secetry said, tomorrow we would go to mourn with the family.
i sat down on the bench with sakola while sophie went into the dispensary for the drugs.
"it's too much." sakola said.
i didn't know what he was talking about.
"it's too much, akua kessy akua kessy, why?!" he looked at me like i was trigger happy and had a remote control that set off people yelling my name.
"what do you mean, "why"?" i asked.
"every time, akua kessy, akua kessy, everyone. they scream you and you go. why?"
"i am practicing the ghanian way sako, i'm greeting!"
"but you are too happy."
"what do you mean i am too happy?"
"i say, you- you- are too happy!"
the statement seemed accusatory. but how can you accuse someone of being TOO happy?
"okay, fine, i'm too happy." i said cheerfully.
he turned his back to me and pouted. his bad mood had lasted a few days and it was beginning to bother me. we ignored each other until sofie came back with the medicine and then we all left to deliver it to our friend.
~~~
i woke up and knew exactly what i was to wear. i walked over to my wardrobe, reached in the far back, and unhooked the hangar that held the black dress. i was glad that i didn't have to think of an outfit. not that it requires too much thought, but like a microwave dinner, sometimes having something preplanned and simple is a great pleasure.
i put it on and went to work.
"good morning Ma."
"good morning. oh! you look nice today. your dress, it suits you."
Ma's compliments always felt more powerful than anyone elses. I suddenly felt incredibly beautiful. i looked down at my dress, it was nice, wasn't it?
she sat back in her chair and smiled at me, the way an illiterate mother might smile while her daughter reaches out to receive a diploma at her college graduation.
"thank you." i beamed.
"so you are going to the funeral with secetry today. please give vic my sympathies."
"i will. we plan to leave at 11" i said "so in 2 hours time. how was your weekend?" i asked.
"oh! i just was relaxing." she moved her hands around like she was flipping tortillas. "but as for this place, if you stay around for the weekend there is nothing to do except sleep! it is too quiet here!" she laughed and shook her head.
Ma preferred to visit her family in kumasi for the weekends, but was only allowed to go twice a month. due to the almost disaster in the ward a week prior i was thankful she didn't leave every weekend. but she always seemed refreshed and alive after seeing her children, so i was also glad when she got to vacate. "you said you were going to cameroon in february but you haven't left." she said.
"i bought my ticket for the 26th. i'll go then." i said.
"and when will you be returning?"
"on the 12th of March."
"oh Kaisy. but i will miss you too much. that is a long time!"
Ma was feeling cozy with me this morning, i wasn't sure why, but i liked her softer side.
while we were talking watchman walked in, greeted ma, and informed me it was time to leave.
"bye Ma! i'll see you tomorrow!" i yelled as the screen door shut. i heard her chuckle to herself a few times.
watchman was dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks that matched. he told me to wait for a taxi in town, he was going to get something. secetry would be coming shortly, he had gone to put on his funeral attire.
i sat around for an hour or so, as the town drunk tried desperately to make english conversation with me. each time i made eye contact with him, which was an easy thing to do considering he was standing directly in front of me, he'd lean down and grasp both my hands into both of his and shake them furiously, saying 'good good, oh yes, good good'.
it was really annoying and the longer i waited the more my mood began to plummet. i wasn't in the mood to be every body's novelty.
i chose to focus on other things. i was thankful that the day was cloudy with bursts of wind. the weather was uncharacteristic and i found some delight in the upset. when i wasn't looking at the sky i could only see the man, he was taking over my personal space.
the drunk had an interesting look. he was tall and stiff with a friendly gawky presence. he reminded me of dorothy's friend, the scarecrow. he'd bow down and tip his hat in my direction and mumble off some incoherent phrase. i would have engaged his company if i knew it would have resulted in something fruitful, but by the looks of it he had been drinking the local hard alcohol, apeteshie, all morning long and i preferred to pretend i was a mute white girl.
pretty soon a crowd of locals gathered around and tried to convince the man i spoke twi. but every time he bent down and rustled my palms together i looked at my feet in silence.
he told them he didn't think i spoke anything.
i was glad he was catching my point.
just then a taxi came down the road and secetry walked out from behind a corner, wrapped in at least 3 yards of beautiful black fabric. his small chest was exposed and the tail end of the cotton was slung over his left shoulder, the way men traditionally wear the local garb. he looked great. he looked regal.
6 of us loaded up into the taxi and the drunk stuck his head through the window.
"is he crazy?" i asked secetry.
"no, hahaha, hes drunk."
so i was correct. i didn't feel so bad ignoring him. he had inflicted this state upon himself.
watchman and secetry made some playful banter with the guy, and then we took off for what i presumed would be a very long day.
~~~
i have never been to a funeral celebration in ghana that didn't last the entire day, and that didn't end in drunkenness. i was wanting neither of those things but was prepared for both.
"we will take 4 cars to get to Maame Vic's village." secetry said.
"4 cars!? how far is it?"
"its not far, but we will alight in konongo and take a car from there. then when we alight at the next town we will take a bush taxi."
"alright."
"oh kessy! you are thinking too much. it seems something is troubling you this morning."
it was nice to have a friend who noticed my moods.
"i'm okay." i said. "i'm just feeling kind of tired and i really don't want to be the center of attention today. i don't want people coming up and prodding me and saying "oh white girl oh white girl". i just want to sit and be left alone. do you know what i mean?"
"i understand." he said. "i will make an announcement that nobody should talk to you."
i wasn't sure if he was kidding, because he didn't laugh, he just stared over the hill looking for a tro tro to catch.
"i don't mind talking to people, i just don't want to be treated like a zoo animal. you don't have to make an announcement, i'll be okay, i'm just low energy."
"oh okay, tank you." he said.
we made it to the last ride in a short amount of time. i was able to doze off and not have to make conversation, which was exactly how i was hoping the morning would go. 7 of us loaded up into the car, after the driver took an old dirty rag and wiped off the seats. this car was dustier than ones i had seen in boamadumase, but just as ragged.
secetry and i shared the front seat, but i didn't want to sit on him so i hung half my body out the window. i peered into the vehicle and paid close attention. i like getting to know the taxis, they interest me. secetry must have seen me staring because he started laughing and asked me if i would be able to drive this car.
i had gotten into the habit of driving the local taxis. not a lot of women drive here, so it initially started as a way to show off. i liked the attention, cruising down the long dusty road, beeping at people and then watching their faces astonished as i wave with a car packed full of people. it's also expanded my twi, having to learn phrases such as "you need to get out of the way faster!"
"sure i can drive this car!" i said, coming back to life from a morning of dullness.
"are you sure?"
"yea, why not?"
he pointed at the ignition.
it was keyless.
we both started laughing.
"well" i said "i might need a key."
"so you can't drive this car. but ghanaians" he said "we are MAGICIANS! you see?"
the road was bumpy and i was trying to figure if i did have to take control, how would i turn the car on. secetry kept echoing his phrase, 'ghanians are magicians' while he saw me pondering. i was hoping we'd get to the town shortly because i was tired of propping myself up. i didn't trust the door to hold me in, so i had a strong hold on the roof of the car, just in case the door flung open.
the environment surrounding the windy road was wild. graves were scattered underneath tall trees. the rains had come in the past week leaving everything more green and vibrant. i liked the feel of the village immediately we pulled in. it rested on what felt like the edge of a hill, overlooking rolling mountains in the distance, and brought out that funny feeling in my heart that balancing on the edge of a city on a hill does. it produces moments of deep reflection, of feeling gratefully small and inconsequential. like looking at the stars.
a huge church had been constructed in the middle of town. it dominated any attention the town might receive, and made me instantly interested in the history of the place. then from the bottom of the hill, i saw streams of people dressed in black single filing into a small cement building.
we all got out of the taxi and walked in that direction. the building was painted fluorescent pink, with electric blue shutters. it was the only colored building i could see, the rest matched the red dirt color i had grown quite accustomed to.
the first time i saw a line of army ants in africa, i was warned to be careful. the trail of them was so thick they could have been mistaken as a stream of water. i was walking in the forest, with a friend. "be careful" he said, pointing at the ground. i bent down and observed their formation. lining the outside of the flow, on both sides, were big ants with claws facing outwards protecting their kin inside. the ants inside were busy hurrying across the path into the bush. one step into the middle and my foot would have been swarmed.
plastic chairs lined the building, not one left empty. the rest of the well wishers were making their way inside. i thought of the ants, because i felt like one now. we were on a mission, to our nest, our hill.
the inside of the courtyard looked like a miniature stadium. it was small, no bigger than half a tennis court, but somehow managed to accommodate every person who was making their way in. chairs had been set up on four sides, each having 3 or 4 lines behind them.
in the center of the room was a picture, blown up and framed of Maame Vic's deceased mother. a lace cloth had been draped over a chair, and the picture rested against it.
it is custom to greet every person (sitting in the front row) when you arrive to a funeral with a handshake. women follow men, so i trailed behind secetry and extended my hand to over 75 people. greeting that many people in just a few short minutes is an overload on my imagination. so many different looks and histories, each hand a different texture and bone structure than the last.
funerals are the glue that keep families in contact here. because ghanaians believe in extended family, they attend funerals quite often, and in turn this keeps relations close.
by the time we had finished with our rounds most of the chairs had been taken. there were 3 left open, close to the wall of the far corner where 6 gigantic speakers, each threatening me with a potential headache, had been set up. i hoped for failure of electricity.
a high pitched screech made it's way through the room.
they had turned on the microphones, my wish had not been granted.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGOOO AGGGGOOOOOOO!!!!"
a middle aged woman who seemed to really like public announcements was on the loud speaker commanding the crowds attention. i still hadn't been placed in a seat, but was trying to get as far away from the speakers as possible. the room was small enough for it not to make much of a difference, but i was glad when somebody grabbed my arm and said "you will sit here."
i plopped myself down on the chair and looked around. not many people were watching me, which was nice. i had been sat at the chair closest to the picture of who we were mourning.
i looked across the room at vic. she had her hair wrapped up in a large piece of stiff black cloth. her face looked worn and her skin looked thin. she had the appearance of somebody who does all their crying in private then emerges tired and aloof. i felt bad for her. it's harder to console somebody who is publically trying to keep it together, in fear of unraveling them. when she walked over to me i stretched out my hand and gave her a sympathy nod, resting in the fact that the speakers drowned out our opportunity for conversation.
"AGGGGOOOO!!! AGGGOOOO!!" i don't know why the woman was still screaming, we were all paying attention to her.
i looked at the photograph. vic looked exactly like her mother. they both carried the same expression, of worry and sadness melted into beauty.
a few large crates of bottled soda had been hauled into the center and the dj's had taken over by replacing the woman with very loud music.
there were 4 choices; sprite, cocacola, fanta, and guiness. one man was scooting the red crate along the floor as the other pulled out different drinks and handed them to each person in my row. i was hoping he'd hand me fanta, and he did. somebody ran down our aisle and opened all our drinks, letting our bottle caps fly off and roll on the floor.
i studied the crowd in their outfits. black and red, their funeral colors. everybody was dressed in african fabric, the women in long skirts and creative tops, and most of the men looking the same as secetry, fabric wrapped around their body like a huge body bandage. my dress seemed a little short, exposing my pasty knees and causing me to constantly shift, tugging it down so it wouldn't reach mid thigh. but again, not many people seemed to notice me, so i wasn't too worried. i just sat and drank my orange flavored fanta, wondering if anyone else was going deaf also.
the man who opened my drink was standing in front of me, waiting for something. when i realized everyone else had finished their drinks and handed their bottles back i chugged mine so he could take it and leave. the only problem was, it was too much soda. i handed him the rest and said i couldn't finish it.
"thank you" he said, as he gulped down the last little bit. then he put the bottle back in the crate, balanced it all on his head, and walked out.
i leaned over to secetry and whispered.
"so what are we doing?"
"we are mourning with the family and taking in minerals (soda)."
"oh, okay."
"and we are deciding the date of the funeral."
i was confused.
"isn't this the funeral?" i asked.
"no, this is the one week celebration."
secetry's has the most welcoming face. i like watching it during conversation. his features are round and bubbly.
"but, why do both?"
"because we have to decide on a date for the funeral, so people will come."
i looked around. the place was pretty packed.
"more people than this?" i asked.
"ooooohhhhh yes. more people will come. you see, the people here, they are just representatives for all the rest of their family. they will go back to their villages and tell more people to come."
a tent had been constructed to shade the middle of the courtyard, or considering the weather, maybe it was to protect us all from the chance of rain. either way, the woman on the loudspeaker was explaining the costs of the gathering; minerals, tent and chair rental, speakers, etc.. this was followed up by another lady, slim and energetic with a black plastic bucket on her head, dancing around the room like a wobbly top bending in suggestion of a donation.
i opened my purse and pulled out 10,000 cedis, about one dollar. i crumpled it up so no one could make out the amount and threw it in the bucket. i looked and saw that most contributions were 2,000 cedis.
in situations like this, i never know what is an appropriate amount to give. i have no cultural context, so i crumple the bills and hope i'm not offending.
"let's go." somebody had walked over to me and was pulling me out of my chair. i followed them back outside where a band of people, none of whom i knew, were waiting for me. "follow them." the person said. we walked past the church, behind some houses, into one of them. the house felt relatively modern, with cushioned chairs and a television.
i started to overanalyze why i was feeling so tired, and came to the conclusion that sophies book on tropical diseases is not what i should be reading during down time at the clinic. it had reignited my dormant hypochondria. i was sure my day's lethargy stemmed from being secretly bit by a tsetse fly and now i had the dreaded "sleeping sickness". in a few short days i might be bleeding out all my orfaces.
was i getting my symptoms confused? i tried hard to remember if the sleeping sickness led to bleeding, or was it death?
nobody in the room was speaking so i slowly descended into the depths of paranoid thought, until a saviour walked in the room and turned the television on. i snapped out from where i was at and zoned in on the screen.
"but i loved soloman, why did he have to go away?" the little brunette was asking her blonde babysitter.
i recognized the movie instantly, only because it was on my top 5 favorite from my childhood.
i glanced to the left and to the right. my company seemed to be just as enthralled. none of them knew english but the plot would be easy to follow.
"your mommy sent him away." said the physco nanny.
i was watching "a hand that rocks the cradle" in a tiny west african village. after that thought flashed through my mind i paid no more attention to my current reality as i quickly absorbed myself into the film. i wanted to stay there all day long. it was the perfect situation for my mood.
a tray passed in front of my face, with wadded up chunks of something greasy wrapped in paper towels. tv and papertowels? i plucked one off and didn't take my eyes from the screen while i unwrapped the contents and ate it.
chicken. yum.
i hadn't tasted chicken in quite some time. every night in the village, the meat of choice and availability was fish, from "the big water".
sakola had bought a chicken one day while we were walking down the road. it was a strange experience, only because i thought we were headed on our way to church until a man rode by on a bicycle holding the fowl upside down while trying to balance and steer. he wasn't very coordinated and one of them, either him or the bird, was sure to get hurt. sakola stopped him and suddenly nanakwame appeared from out of nowhere, while they all haggled for a fair price. they settled on 30,000 cedis, 3 dollars. nanakwame ran the chicken back to our house and later when we came home, the chicken had a rooster friend. i still haven't figured out where the rooster came from but i have become calloused to his uniquely harrowing 3 a.m. cry that sounds more like a woman dying in a blender than a rooster crowing. "this bird" sakola says daily, pointing to the chicken as it runs around the yard "this bird, before you leave..." then he makes the motion of slicing its neck.
i'm hoping he means we'll feast on it as a farewell party.
the flavor of the chicken in my mouth now, tasted like the most amazing thing i had ever eaten.
secetry walked in the room. "kessy?! we are going back, come and lets go." he said. i hadn't noticed everyone had shuffled out and i was chewing on the bone like a starved dog.
"is there any more chicken?" i asked.
he just laughed at me and led me out of the house.
"no i'm serious." i said. "is there any more chicken?"
i had come a long way from my devout vegetarianism some years prior, i was now begging for meat.
"it is sweet?"
"YES! very."
"i will try to find you some." he said, the way a good friend would.
we walked back into the room overflowing with people. i was growing tired of being there, mostly because the day was now hot, the music level had increased, and nothing new was happening. when i sat down in my chair the sound waves made my stomach hurt. my body was vibrating to the sound of the beat, i felt like i had swallowed all 6 of the speakers.
ma vic walked over to me and i gave her a look.
"are you okay?" she said.
"yea, i'm okay. is the music loud to you too?" i yelled.
"yes, it's too loud. the speakers are supposed to have gone outside but we didn't have a... whats that thing... extension cord, so they just kept them in here. it's disturbing."
by the look on everyones face they could have been at a relaxing weekend on the lake.
ma vic walked away.
i thought about what sophie had noted a few days earlier. "nobody seems to complain here." she said "i find it really annoying!"
it was true in some situations, like now.
i looked at secetry. "i have to leave, it's too loud! it's hurting my body. i'll be outside." i said.
he followed me out.
i wasn't being a very good guest, but i wasn't sure if anyone really noticed. i hadn't talked to anyone since morning and couldn't stop thinking about leaving.
"secetry, what time is it?"
"why, do you want to leave?"
"yeah, kinda."
"we will go in 30 minutes time, which will make it 3:00. if we leave now, vic will think we don't care. 30 minutes, is that okay?"
"30 minutes is good." it seemed like eternity.
we made small talk, about the house and all the people. i had asked whose house it was.
"it's vic's mothers house. the house is big! it's nice!" he said.
"your house is just as big, it just seems larger because they crammed so many people inside."
"no, my house is too small. it is much smaller than this one."
"you think so?"
"ohh yess."
"well than, don't die. we won't have any place to celebrate you in."
"oh kessy! death-" he said "death, is everyones property."
somebody announced they had come to an agreement on the date of the funeral. news started buzzing around outside that it was set for April 27th and 28th, and i only saw nods of approval.
"will you come?" secetry asked.
"i think so." i answered.
"everybody at the clinic will come; efreeyeh, vera, kingsley. they will all be here. we will dance and have fun. you must come! ahhhahhaaaha"
it sounded like it was going to be a good time.
"okay, i'll be there. definately."
"good, thank you. now lets go."
we said our good byes to vic and made our journey back home.
"how was the funeral?" sophie asked.
i didn't know what to say so i shrugged my shoulders. "i'm tired today. the music was loud and i drank a fanta."
"sounds pretty boring" her accent put a lot of stress on the boring.
"i wouldn't say that, it just wasn't exciting." it dawned on me that i am one of those people, one of those people that don't believe in boredom. i thought of my grandmama, a woman who lives every moment as an artist. growing up, whenever we'd be sitting in her car at a stop light, she'd bend both her hands into what resembled a little looking box, and then she'd peer through it contemplatively, saying
"the good thing about being an artist is..." bending her head left and then right "... you never have a dull moment." she is a painter. "you just do this and whatever is in front of you, life, turns into a working composition."
that wisdom has helped me on long days like this.
sakola and sofie kept walking while i chatted with my friends. each time i caught up with them another 'akua kacie' would make me fall behind.
one of them was secetry.
'i saw you playing football today!" he said. "you are good. ahhahaha."
"thank you."
"ahhh akkkuuaa!" and he gave me a little slap. "tomorrow we will go to the one week celebration. you won't go to work, you'll come with me."
"okay."
"see you then."
"bye!"
i skipped ahead. sakola and sofie had almost reached the clinic. this week was going to be a strain on the health center, only because Vic's mother died a week earlier so she planned to be out, and just as secetry said, tomorrow we would go to mourn with the family.
i sat down on the bench with sakola while sophie went into the dispensary for the drugs.
"it's too much." sakola said.
i didn't know what he was talking about.
"it's too much, akua kessy akua kessy, why?!" he looked at me like i was trigger happy and had a remote control that set off people yelling my name.
"what do you mean, "why"?" i asked.
"every time, akua kessy, akua kessy, everyone. they scream you and you go. why?"
"i am practicing the ghanian way sako, i'm greeting!"
"but you are too happy."
"what do you mean i am too happy?"
"i say, you- you- are too happy!"
the statement seemed accusatory. but how can you accuse someone of being TOO happy?
"okay, fine, i'm too happy." i said cheerfully.
he turned his back to me and pouted. his bad mood had lasted a few days and it was beginning to bother me. we ignored each other until sofie came back with the medicine and then we all left to deliver it to our friend.
~~~
i woke up and knew exactly what i was to wear. i walked over to my wardrobe, reached in the far back, and unhooked the hangar that held the black dress. i was glad that i didn't have to think of an outfit. not that it requires too much thought, but like a microwave dinner, sometimes having something preplanned and simple is a great pleasure.
i put it on and went to work.
"good morning Ma."
"good morning. oh! you look nice today. your dress, it suits you."
Ma's compliments always felt more powerful than anyone elses. I suddenly felt incredibly beautiful. i looked down at my dress, it was nice, wasn't it?
she sat back in her chair and smiled at me, the way an illiterate mother might smile while her daughter reaches out to receive a diploma at her college graduation.
"thank you." i beamed.
"so you are going to the funeral with secetry today. please give vic my sympathies."
"i will. we plan to leave at 11" i said "so in 2 hours time. how was your weekend?" i asked.
"oh! i just was relaxing." she moved her hands around like she was flipping tortillas. "but as for this place, if you stay around for the weekend there is nothing to do except sleep! it is too quiet here!" she laughed and shook her head.
Ma preferred to visit her family in kumasi for the weekends, but was only allowed to go twice a month. due to the almost disaster in the ward a week prior i was thankful she didn't leave every weekend. but she always seemed refreshed and alive after seeing her children, so i was also glad when she got to vacate. "you said you were going to cameroon in february but you haven't left." she said.
"i bought my ticket for the 26th. i'll go then." i said.
"and when will you be returning?"
"on the 12th of March."
"oh Kaisy. but i will miss you too much. that is a long time!"
Ma was feeling cozy with me this morning, i wasn't sure why, but i liked her softer side.
while we were talking watchman walked in, greeted ma, and informed me it was time to leave.
"bye Ma! i'll see you tomorrow!" i yelled as the screen door shut. i heard her chuckle to herself a few times.
watchman was dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks that matched. he told me to wait for a taxi in town, he was going to get something. secetry would be coming shortly, he had gone to put on his funeral attire.
i sat around for an hour or so, as the town drunk tried desperately to make english conversation with me. each time i made eye contact with him, which was an easy thing to do considering he was standing directly in front of me, he'd lean down and grasp both my hands into both of his and shake them furiously, saying 'good good, oh yes, good good'.
it was really annoying and the longer i waited the more my mood began to plummet. i wasn't in the mood to be every body's novelty.
i chose to focus on other things. i was thankful that the day was cloudy with bursts of wind. the weather was uncharacteristic and i found some delight in the upset. when i wasn't looking at the sky i could only see the man, he was taking over my personal space.
the drunk had an interesting look. he was tall and stiff with a friendly gawky presence. he reminded me of dorothy's friend, the scarecrow. he'd bow down and tip his hat in my direction and mumble off some incoherent phrase. i would have engaged his company if i knew it would have resulted in something fruitful, but by the looks of it he had been drinking the local hard alcohol, apeteshie, all morning long and i preferred to pretend i was a mute white girl.
pretty soon a crowd of locals gathered around and tried to convince the man i spoke twi. but every time he bent down and rustled my palms together i looked at my feet in silence.
he told them he didn't think i spoke anything.
i was glad he was catching my point.
just then a taxi came down the road and secetry walked out from behind a corner, wrapped in at least 3 yards of beautiful black fabric. his small chest was exposed and the tail end of the cotton was slung over his left shoulder, the way men traditionally wear the local garb. he looked great. he looked regal.
6 of us loaded up into the taxi and the drunk stuck his head through the window.
"is he crazy?" i asked secetry.
"no, hahaha, hes drunk."
so i was correct. i didn't feel so bad ignoring him. he had inflicted this state upon himself.
watchman and secetry made some playful banter with the guy, and then we took off for what i presumed would be a very long day.
~~~
i have never been to a funeral celebration in ghana that didn't last the entire day, and that didn't end in drunkenness. i was wanting neither of those things but was prepared for both.
"we will take 4 cars to get to Maame Vic's village." secetry said.
"4 cars!? how far is it?"
"its not far, but we will alight in konongo and take a car from there. then when we alight at the next town we will take a bush taxi."
"alright."
"oh kessy! you are thinking too much. it seems something is troubling you this morning."
it was nice to have a friend who noticed my moods.
"i'm okay." i said. "i'm just feeling kind of tired and i really don't want to be the center of attention today. i don't want people coming up and prodding me and saying "oh white girl oh white girl". i just want to sit and be left alone. do you know what i mean?"
"i understand." he said. "i will make an announcement that nobody should talk to you."
i wasn't sure if he was kidding, because he didn't laugh, he just stared over the hill looking for a tro tro to catch.
"i don't mind talking to people, i just don't want to be treated like a zoo animal. you don't have to make an announcement, i'll be okay, i'm just low energy."
"oh okay, tank you." he said.
we made it to the last ride in a short amount of time. i was able to doze off and not have to make conversation, which was exactly how i was hoping the morning would go. 7 of us loaded up into the car, after the driver took an old dirty rag and wiped off the seats. this car was dustier than ones i had seen in boamadumase, but just as ragged.
secetry and i shared the front seat, but i didn't want to sit on him so i hung half my body out the window. i peered into the vehicle and paid close attention. i like getting to know the taxis, they interest me. secetry must have seen me staring because he started laughing and asked me if i would be able to drive this car.
i had gotten into the habit of driving the local taxis. not a lot of women drive here, so it initially started as a way to show off. i liked the attention, cruising down the long dusty road, beeping at people and then watching their faces astonished as i wave with a car packed full of people. it's also expanded my twi, having to learn phrases such as "you need to get out of the way faster!"
"sure i can drive this car!" i said, coming back to life from a morning of dullness.
"are you sure?"
"yea, why not?"
he pointed at the ignition.
it was keyless.
we both started laughing.
"well" i said "i might need a key."
"so you can't drive this car. but ghanaians" he said "we are MAGICIANS! you see?"
the road was bumpy and i was trying to figure if i did have to take control, how would i turn the car on. secetry kept echoing his phrase, 'ghanians are magicians' while he saw me pondering. i was hoping we'd get to the town shortly because i was tired of propping myself up. i didn't trust the door to hold me in, so i had a strong hold on the roof of the car, just in case the door flung open.
the environment surrounding the windy road was wild. graves were scattered underneath tall trees. the rains had come in the past week leaving everything more green and vibrant. i liked the feel of the village immediately we pulled in. it rested on what felt like the edge of a hill, overlooking rolling mountains in the distance, and brought out that funny feeling in my heart that balancing on the edge of a city on a hill does. it produces moments of deep reflection, of feeling gratefully small and inconsequential. like looking at the stars.
a huge church had been constructed in the middle of town. it dominated any attention the town might receive, and made me instantly interested in the history of the place. then from the bottom of the hill, i saw streams of people dressed in black single filing into a small cement building.
we all got out of the taxi and walked in that direction. the building was painted fluorescent pink, with electric blue shutters. it was the only colored building i could see, the rest matched the red dirt color i had grown quite accustomed to.
the first time i saw a line of army ants in africa, i was warned to be careful. the trail of them was so thick they could have been mistaken as a stream of water. i was walking in the forest, with a friend. "be careful" he said, pointing at the ground. i bent down and observed their formation. lining the outside of the flow, on both sides, were big ants with claws facing outwards protecting their kin inside. the ants inside were busy hurrying across the path into the bush. one step into the middle and my foot would have been swarmed.
plastic chairs lined the building, not one left empty. the rest of the well wishers were making their way inside. i thought of the ants, because i felt like one now. we were on a mission, to our nest, our hill.
the inside of the courtyard looked like a miniature stadium. it was small, no bigger than half a tennis court, but somehow managed to accommodate every person who was making their way in. chairs had been set up on four sides, each having 3 or 4 lines behind them.
in the center of the room was a picture, blown up and framed of Maame Vic's deceased mother. a lace cloth had been draped over a chair, and the picture rested against it.
it is custom to greet every person (sitting in the front row) when you arrive to a funeral with a handshake. women follow men, so i trailed behind secetry and extended my hand to over 75 people. greeting that many people in just a few short minutes is an overload on my imagination. so many different looks and histories, each hand a different texture and bone structure than the last.
funerals are the glue that keep families in contact here. because ghanaians believe in extended family, they attend funerals quite often, and in turn this keeps relations close.
by the time we had finished with our rounds most of the chairs had been taken. there were 3 left open, close to the wall of the far corner where 6 gigantic speakers, each threatening me with a potential headache, had been set up. i hoped for failure of electricity.
a high pitched screech made it's way through the room.
they had turned on the microphones, my wish had not been granted.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGOOO AGGGGOOOOOOO!!!!"
a middle aged woman who seemed to really like public announcements was on the loud speaker commanding the crowds attention. i still hadn't been placed in a seat, but was trying to get as far away from the speakers as possible. the room was small enough for it not to make much of a difference, but i was glad when somebody grabbed my arm and said "you will sit here."
i plopped myself down on the chair and looked around. not many people were watching me, which was nice. i had been sat at the chair closest to the picture of who we were mourning.
i looked across the room at vic. she had her hair wrapped up in a large piece of stiff black cloth. her face looked worn and her skin looked thin. she had the appearance of somebody who does all their crying in private then emerges tired and aloof. i felt bad for her. it's harder to console somebody who is publically trying to keep it together, in fear of unraveling them. when she walked over to me i stretched out my hand and gave her a sympathy nod, resting in the fact that the speakers drowned out our opportunity for conversation.
"AGGGGOOOO!!! AGGGOOOO!!" i don't know why the woman was still screaming, we were all paying attention to her.
i looked at the photograph. vic looked exactly like her mother. they both carried the same expression, of worry and sadness melted into beauty.
a few large crates of bottled soda had been hauled into the center and the dj's had taken over by replacing the woman with very loud music.
there were 4 choices; sprite, cocacola, fanta, and guiness. one man was scooting the red crate along the floor as the other pulled out different drinks and handed them to each person in my row. i was hoping he'd hand me fanta, and he did. somebody ran down our aisle and opened all our drinks, letting our bottle caps fly off and roll on the floor.
i studied the crowd in their outfits. black and red, their funeral colors. everybody was dressed in african fabric, the women in long skirts and creative tops, and most of the men looking the same as secetry, fabric wrapped around their body like a huge body bandage. my dress seemed a little short, exposing my pasty knees and causing me to constantly shift, tugging it down so it wouldn't reach mid thigh. but again, not many people seemed to notice me, so i wasn't too worried. i just sat and drank my orange flavored fanta, wondering if anyone else was going deaf also.
the man who opened my drink was standing in front of me, waiting for something. when i realized everyone else had finished their drinks and handed their bottles back i chugged mine so he could take it and leave. the only problem was, it was too much soda. i handed him the rest and said i couldn't finish it.
"thank you" he said, as he gulped down the last little bit. then he put the bottle back in the crate, balanced it all on his head, and walked out.
i leaned over to secetry and whispered.
"so what are we doing?"
"we are mourning with the family and taking in minerals (soda)."
"oh, okay."
"and we are deciding the date of the funeral."
i was confused.
"isn't this the funeral?" i asked.
"no, this is the one week celebration."
secetry's has the most welcoming face. i like watching it during conversation. his features are round and bubbly.
"but, why do both?"
"because we have to decide on a date for the funeral, so people will come."
i looked around. the place was pretty packed.
"more people than this?" i asked.
"ooooohhhhh yes. more people will come. you see, the people here, they are just representatives for all the rest of their family. they will go back to their villages and tell more people to come."
a tent had been constructed to shade the middle of the courtyard, or considering the weather, maybe it was to protect us all from the chance of rain. either way, the woman on the loudspeaker was explaining the costs of the gathering; minerals, tent and chair rental, speakers, etc.. this was followed up by another lady, slim and energetic with a black plastic bucket on her head, dancing around the room like a wobbly top bending in suggestion of a donation.
i opened my purse and pulled out 10,000 cedis, about one dollar. i crumpled it up so no one could make out the amount and threw it in the bucket. i looked and saw that most contributions were 2,000 cedis.
in situations like this, i never know what is an appropriate amount to give. i have no cultural context, so i crumple the bills and hope i'm not offending.
"let's go." somebody had walked over to me and was pulling me out of my chair. i followed them back outside where a band of people, none of whom i knew, were waiting for me. "follow them." the person said. we walked past the church, behind some houses, into one of them. the house felt relatively modern, with cushioned chairs and a television.
i started to overanalyze why i was feeling so tired, and came to the conclusion that sophies book on tropical diseases is not what i should be reading during down time at the clinic. it had reignited my dormant hypochondria. i was sure my day's lethargy stemmed from being secretly bit by a tsetse fly and now i had the dreaded "sleeping sickness". in a few short days i might be bleeding out all my orfaces.
was i getting my symptoms confused? i tried hard to remember if the sleeping sickness led to bleeding, or was it death?
nobody in the room was speaking so i slowly descended into the depths of paranoid thought, until a saviour walked in the room and turned the television on. i snapped out from where i was at and zoned in on the screen.
"but i loved soloman, why did he have to go away?" the little brunette was asking her blonde babysitter.
i recognized the movie instantly, only because it was on my top 5 favorite from my childhood.
i glanced to the left and to the right. my company seemed to be just as enthralled. none of them knew english but the plot would be easy to follow.
"your mommy sent him away." said the physco nanny.
i was watching "a hand that rocks the cradle" in a tiny west african village. after that thought flashed through my mind i paid no more attention to my current reality as i quickly absorbed myself into the film. i wanted to stay there all day long. it was the perfect situation for my mood.
a tray passed in front of my face, with wadded up chunks of something greasy wrapped in paper towels. tv and papertowels? i plucked one off and didn't take my eyes from the screen while i unwrapped the contents and ate it.
chicken. yum.
i hadn't tasted chicken in quite some time. every night in the village, the meat of choice and availability was fish, from "the big water".
sakola had bought a chicken one day while we were walking down the road. it was a strange experience, only because i thought we were headed on our way to church until a man rode by on a bicycle holding the fowl upside down while trying to balance and steer. he wasn't very coordinated and one of them, either him or the bird, was sure to get hurt. sakola stopped him and suddenly nanakwame appeared from out of nowhere, while they all haggled for a fair price. they settled on 30,000 cedis, 3 dollars. nanakwame ran the chicken back to our house and later when we came home, the chicken had a rooster friend. i still haven't figured out where the rooster came from but i have become calloused to his uniquely harrowing 3 a.m. cry that sounds more like a woman dying in a blender than a rooster crowing. "this bird" sakola says daily, pointing to the chicken as it runs around the yard "this bird, before you leave..." then he makes the motion of slicing its neck.
i'm hoping he means we'll feast on it as a farewell party.
the flavor of the chicken in my mouth now, tasted like the most amazing thing i had ever eaten.
secetry walked in the room. "kessy?! we are going back, come and lets go." he said. i hadn't noticed everyone had shuffled out and i was chewing on the bone like a starved dog.
"is there any more chicken?" i asked.
he just laughed at me and led me out of the house.
"no i'm serious." i said. "is there any more chicken?"
i had come a long way from my devout vegetarianism some years prior, i was now begging for meat.
"it is sweet?"
"YES! very."
"i will try to find you some." he said, the way a good friend would.
we walked back into the room overflowing with people. i was growing tired of being there, mostly because the day was now hot, the music level had increased, and nothing new was happening. when i sat down in my chair the sound waves made my stomach hurt. my body was vibrating to the sound of the beat, i felt like i had swallowed all 6 of the speakers.
ma vic walked over to me and i gave her a look.
"are you okay?" she said.
"yea, i'm okay. is the music loud to you too?" i yelled.
"yes, it's too loud. the speakers are supposed to have gone outside but we didn't have a... whats that thing... extension cord, so they just kept them in here. it's disturbing."
by the look on everyones face they could have been at a relaxing weekend on the lake.
ma vic walked away.
i thought about what sophie had noted a few days earlier. "nobody seems to complain here." she said "i find it really annoying!"
it was true in some situations, like now.
i looked at secetry. "i have to leave, it's too loud! it's hurting my body. i'll be outside." i said.
he followed me out.
i wasn't being a very good guest, but i wasn't sure if anyone really noticed. i hadn't talked to anyone since morning and couldn't stop thinking about leaving.
"secetry, what time is it?"
"why, do you want to leave?"
"yeah, kinda."
"we will go in 30 minutes time, which will make it 3:00. if we leave now, vic will think we don't care. 30 minutes, is that okay?"
"30 minutes is good." it seemed like eternity.
we made small talk, about the house and all the people. i had asked whose house it was.
"it's vic's mothers house. the house is big! it's nice!" he said.
"your house is just as big, it just seems larger because they crammed so many people inside."
"no, my house is too small. it is much smaller than this one."
"you think so?"
"ohh yess."
"well than, don't die. we won't have any place to celebrate you in."
"oh kessy! death-" he said "death, is everyones property."
somebody announced they had come to an agreement on the date of the funeral. news started buzzing around outside that it was set for April 27th and 28th, and i only saw nods of approval.
"will you come?" secetry asked.
"i think so." i answered.
"everybody at the clinic will come; efreeyeh, vera, kingsley. they will all be here. we will dance and have fun. you must come! ahhhahhaaaha"
it sounded like it was going to be a good time.
"okay, i'll be there. definately."
"good, thank you. now lets go."
we said our good byes to vic and made our journey back home.
"how was the funeral?" sophie asked.
i didn't know what to say so i shrugged my shoulders. "i'm tired today. the music was loud and i drank a fanta."
"sounds pretty boring" her accent put a lot of stress on the boring.
"i wouldn't say that, it just wasn't exciting." it dawned on me that i am one of those people, one of those people that don't believe in boredom. i thought of my grandmama, a woman who lives every moment as an artist. growing up, whenever we'd be sitting in her car at a stop light, she'd bend both her hands into what resembled a little looking box, and then she'd peer through it contemplatively, saying
"the good thing about being an artist is..." bending her head left and then right "... you never have a dull moment." she is a painter. "you just do this and whatever is in front of you, life, turns into a working composition."
that wisdom has helped me on long days like this.
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