"won't you go with efreeyeh instead of sit here with me?" Ma was asking, in what sounded like an annoyed manner. her face was wrinkled and her lips were pouty.
all 3 of us had been sitting peacefully in Ma's office, i was reading, they were chatting. efreeyeh bounced out of her chair, and walked outside. was i supposed to know what was going on?
"what is she doing?" i asked.
"oh! why should you ask? i've told her to go and bring the pregnant women. won't you go with her?"
"uh, okay. ya. i'll go and bring the pregnant women. now?"
"yes, now."
"okay." i packed up my purse and said good bye, then efreeyeh and i began to walk in the direction of town.
"what exactly are we doing?" i asked.
"Ma Aggie wants us to go and visit the pregnant women and tell them to come to the clinic."
efreeyeh had just started calling Ma, Ma Aggie. i liked the long version when efreeyeh said it because it sounded like "Moggy", but Ma would always and forever remain a two lettered woman to me.
at the beginning of that week we had a lady in town, pregnant with twins, attempt to deliver at home with a traditional birth attendant (TBA). it was a bad story with an unhappy ending, depending on how you look at it. Maame Vic thought it was a good thing one of the babies didn't make it. "you see?" she said "she is a poor poor woman, she can't afford twins. so now she has just one, she will feel free. her baby will be strong. but that TBA is a wicked wicked woman."
her perspective on the neonate's death was a good way to look at it, i suppose. and the TBA is actually a very kind woman who was put into a difficult situation. turns out the girl showed up on her doorstep with the first child already making it's way into the world. what was she to do?
she came in after her children were delivered, with a retained placenta. Maame Vic had to manually remove it, and during the process a lot of blood was lost. She stayed in the clinic longer than any patient i had ever seen. she was weak and anemic and too poor to go to the hospital for a blood transfusion.
"i'll pay for it." i said.
"let's wait and see if rest and her modified diet will work." sofie said.
her baby girl was premature, and i learned that day about how to correctly wrap a baby into a kangaroo hold. the mother learned also. it is a method that has saved premature babies who don't have access to incubators, babies born in the bush. wrap the child skin to skin against the mother's (or anyone's) chest. keep the baby there, the mother's body heat is perfect for "incubation". the positioning looked quite comfortable, and the baby seemed happier.
things were looking on the bright side the day she was discharged.
it obviously affected Ma, to get her motivated in sending us out into the community.
efreeyeh loves leaving the clinic on missions, whether it's riding the bike to fetch Ma her lunch, going to the market to buy the clinic something, or doing what we were about to do. whatever the case may be, there is always an extra skip in her step.
"so how many women are we going to visit?" i asked.
"just wait and see." she said, smirking at me.
she looked more official in her green uniform. she looked like a health professional. she looked like the community might trust her.
we walked up a hill, alongside some decrepit buildings, past women wringing out their children's just washed clothes. we walked past the baby ducks, i love those baby ducks. i noticed how much they walked like efreeyeh, a slight waddle. i told her this and she slapped me. "i only share these things with you because you share your thoughts with me." i said.
"what do you mean?" she asked.
i pointed to my arm, the arm she has been making fun of for months, the arm she says looks like i broke. "why do you walk like you've broken your arm?" she always asks.
"why do you waddle like a duck?" i now say.
we kept going and i was interested to see whose house we would stop at, when my path was intercepted by the local crazy man. it took me a while to figure out he was crazy, because he says many of the same things the locals say to me, except he repeats them and rocks back and forth while he does it, like he's slightly autistic, but he's not.
"he's a drunk." efreeyeh says. "and he's lost his mind."
now he was standing in front of me, telling me everything i already knew.
"My name is Mike Warrington! Shake me!"
he grabbed for my hand. he didn't need to grab though, i was going to offer it up willingly. i've set my rule with him. i will give him 3 handshakes, then it's over. with my dislike for handshaking i consider myself generous.
"My name is Mike Warrington. are you a british? Shake me!"
i gave him his second.
efreeyeh watched, very pleased with the situation.
"are you a british? my name is mike warrington. i am listening attentively. shake me!"
shake number three and over.
i walked away from him up the dirt hill. "c'mon efreeyeh, hurry up."
she ran up to my side and laughed. "he's lost his mind i hope you know that."
"i know, i'm just trying to get away from his handshaking. i hate it. he does this to me every morning before work, but usually i can see him and dodge him before it happens. shake me efreeyeh shake me!" then i grabbed her hand and started jostling it all around. she laughed.
"go in here akua." she said.
i walked through a metal gate painted blue, into a courtyard. there was a very pregnant woman sitting on a bench eating.
"how are you?" i asked.
"fine." she said.
"hungry?" i said.
"very." she said.
lots of laughter and then some small talk. there was a small child, of whom i had a special interest in since my first week here, hanging out close by. i asked "is this your son?", she said yes.
"oh! really? ebeneezer is my little friend. he's a good boy." i said.
he got very shy and hid.
Mike Warrington came around the corner and made his way into the courtyard over to ebeneezer. the boy tried to escape Mike Warrington but got cornered, so he just stood there while Mike Warrington told me his name over and over again, stressing the k in miKe and the rr's and t in waRRingTon.
the thing about Mike Warrington is, he can pass as sane for quite a long while, until you look closer at his glassy eyes.
"are you a british?" he kept asking.
"no i'm american." i said, wondering why i was even answering, then wondering why i wouldn't. crazy. what is crazy? crazy is still human.
the mother laughed when miKe waRRingTon said he was listening attentively. she spoke only a small bit of english, and his use of proper words had her laughing. he sounded like he had memorized a few lines from the a radio program he might have listened to. it would have been easy, since like nanakwame, he always was cradeling a small cheap radio in the crook of his armpit, listening "attentively".
when i started to ignore him, by turning my head and speaking to the pregant woman, he grabbed ebeneezers arm and squeezed until ebeneezer winced and we all turned to look. "are you a british?"
"please let go of the little boy's arm." i said.
he squeezed tighter "no, i am going to beat this child. my name is miKe waRRingTon."
he had a sick grin on his face.
"LET GO." i said.
ebeneezer looked like he was going to cry, but he wasn't moving. it was a disturbing moment.
"LET HIM GO." i said, again.
he let go, and laughed, treating me as if i were insane. then he came over and said "shake me." putting his grimy hand in my face.
"NO! i won't shake you. everyday you come to me and you say shake me shake me shake me. i'm tired of shaking you mike warrington. really tired of it. don't ask me again."
he kept laughing.
"let's go." i said to efreeyeh.
we reminded the woman to come to the clinic, she thanked us for visiting her and kept eating.
i ran up the hill and hid from miKe waRRington. i watched him walk back down the hill.
"we are going to this woman's house, by the market. have you seen her akua? she's too big, like this." then efreeyeh put her hands out past her toes. "like that. she's big, big."
"is she having twins you think?"
"yes."
"how do you know?"
"she went for a scan."
we turned the corner and were at the place.
"but all the women have gone to farm." efreeyeh said. "it's thursday. they will prepare for tommorow, market day."
"even the women who are about to deliver."
"every body has to prepare." she said.
"eh! efreeyeh. let's see if you are still saying that when you are 9 months pregnant, ya?"
she laughed. "i will akua."
we yelled into the one room structure "kokokoko" which is a phrase in twi, which is supposed to imitate the sound of knocking, but is voiced because most people don't have anything to knock a knuckle up against. no door, no window, nothing. just a vacant doorway. the response is "memememe", and we heard it. the woman hadn't gone to farm. when i saw her, i was suprised she was even moving! she was huge.
we spent some time touching her belly, talking to her, sitting around.
this was another form of community outreach. our own personal form.
this woman was afraid to come to the clinic.
i asked efreeyeh later, "why?".
she said because she hasn't been yet, mostly because she started her antenatal after she got her scan, so she just continued going to Konongo hospital. now that she was at term, Ma would yell at her for not having visited her sooner.
"but she should still come!" i said. "is she going to?"
"she said she would. tommorrow."
"do you think she will?"
"yes. if she says she will then i believe her. but it's true, Ma will yell at her."
"are the women in the village scared of Ma?"
"no." she said.
the next day she did come to the clinic, and Ma did yell at her. then i yelled at Ma, kind of.
"Ma?" i said. "you told us to go into the village and tell the women to come. now when they come, you yell at them. they won't want to deliver here if you make them feel guilty for not having come sooner, and then they'll just deliver at home. exactly what we don't want. so we should be kinder, don't you agree?"
"HMPF. these people." she began "they don't come for antenatal. i don't see them until this point, when they are coming to deliver. you see? HMPF."
"did you ask her why?"
"YES! but she won't speak."
it was true. the woman giggled uncomfortably everytime Ma asked her a question. she never answered one of them.
efreeyeh told me later she had warned her to keep her mouth shut, until she was about to leave, then she could explain her reason for not coming sooner and Ma wouldn't yell as much.
that is exactly what she did. she told Ma, she had to go to Konongo for the scan and if she didn't do antenatal there but got sent there due to complications during delivery, the midwives at the hospital wouldn't care about her. they would treat her poorly because they didn't recognize her.
i wondered if she had spoke with sister Yaa.
it was a smart move, i thought.
our delivery room was kind, whether you had been there before or not. we didn't slap hard, and we didn't yell. we also didn't perform fundal pressure. there were windows which let in the breeze and a view of nature. and although Ma could be moody, she was an excellent midwife.
my initial skepticism of her qualifications, i now see, was due to my own ignorance. i would trust Ma to deliver my child, but i would make sure i went to my antenatals with her first. just to get on her good side.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
the mali men's last visit
i found out the mali people were actually from niger, but nobody seemed to care. they still referred to them as "the mali men". just like everybody still believes sofie is from germany.
as i was exploring the village one early morning, on my way to work, taking pictures of kids and dogs and baby ducks, one of the mali women ran across the road over to me.
she grabbed at my dress and inched up uncomfortably close to my face. then she spoke her language. i had no idea what language it was.
i tried to back away, but every time i did she grabbed my dress tighter and got closer.
she smelled like dirty goat and smoked cheese. she didn't smell ghanaian, and i hadn't realized until that point that there was a distinct ghanaian smell. it was anything other than what i was smelling now.
everything about her was different. she had unusually pink gums. they almost looked edible.
i didn't particularly like her gripping me the way she was, but it seemed desperate, so i tried hard to understand what she was explaining.
she was pointing to her dress, it had different colored swirls all over it. she singled out a red swirl and counted to 7.
what was i to think?
"wote twi?" i asked.
she said yes she speaks small twi.
"yeka twi. let's speak twi."
she told me about blood, and months, and medicine, but none of it made much sense. "i'm sorry" i said "i don't understand what you are saying. do you want medicine?"
she said yes yes yes she wants medicine.
"then come today to the clinic." i said.
she told me she would see me soon.
then i summoned up the courage and asked if i could take her picture, because she was unusually beautiful, and she said of course. then she modeled, and pressured me into taking 3 pictures, instead of 1.
well that was easy, i thought as i walked away.
when i got to work i told Maame Vic the mali people would be coming for a visit, and when they came walking down the road towards us, we sat and stared at them. they walked in long strings of pairs, husbands and wives.
they were taller and leaner and boneier. they dressed in more clothes. they were muslim.
we brought the woman i had just met earlier that morning into Vic's office. she sat down and spoke in a clippy blunt accent. it was my first time hearing twi in a foreign african accent. i could barely understand it, but Vic could.
she responded "no, no, we don't do that here."
"do what?" sofie and i asked.
"she's asking for medicine to get blood. she says she hasn't had her period for 1 month, but she's had it the past 7 months, and she wants it. so she's asking for medicine to get the blood back."
"she wants an abortion?" i asked.
"oh no, that's not in our services." sofie said.
"but she doesn't think she's pregnant." vic said.
"but she hasn't had her period for 1 month?"
we all gave each other a dubious look.
"does she know about birth control?" i asked. "we should at least council her in that. for the future."
vic explained this to our mali friend.
she was enthusiastic and wanted an injection of depo provera right away.
"first let's find out if she's pregnant." one of us said.
she left, peed, and came back in to wait with us. kingsley brought in the results.
positive.
again, the mother was unhappy with the news, but coping better than the last. i was already growing frustrated with my emotions regarding unwanted pregnancy. i wanted her to want it. i wanted to be supportive to her. i was already imagining talking to the unborn child 35 years from now. hearing his amazing life tale, telling him about his beginnings.
"well no depo for her i guess."
"let's at least get her some folic acid."
vic called the husband in the room and talked with them both. he smelled like smoke from a wood fire and wore a funny red hat. the kind a circus monkey might wear, boxy-made of felt. he had a neck full of leather jewelry dangling down to his chest. it looked special, like the charms were loaded with secret spells. i had to ask once they were through talking. i asked a few other things as well.
i concluded with "... and why exactly are they here in boama, what do they DO?"
"they walk around and sell their medicines." vic said "do you see? they have medicine there in their bags, you see? it is special from mali, they sell it from village to village. they walk everywhere."
they both were sitting, contemplativly in their chairs, trying to engage but unable to devote much energy to conversation. they just found out they were going to have their 6th child. they seemed like a wonderful couple, close and caring.
working in the clinic is strange. i'm not used to this sort of work, the kind where you know people's most intimate affairs. sofie is used to it. and really, the village is SMALL, so one begins to feel they know too much.
we walk through town together, we pass the man who is being treated for his urinary tract infection, we eat dinner with the woman who has a spleen so large it resembles another breast, i play soccer with the cute guy who comes in every day for an injection in his ass. (all the girls have a hard time with that one, figuratively and literally. the guy is fit. he is one big muscle. they all tried pawning it off on me.)
"since you love injections so much, you take the cute guy."
"it's not in my job description." i say. "looks like you'll have to do it."
i buy rice, bread, eggs from women i've seen naked, frightened or brave, lying supine on the bed in the ward. i sing in church, my voice mixing with the 20 other members, half of which are grandmothers of children i've seen be born.
i interviewed a few midwives before i came to ghana only because people said skeptically (but lovingly) "you've never seen a birth before and you're going to work in a birthing clinic, in africa? can you handle all the blood?"
every time i agreed with their statement, and said i don't know if i could handle the blood, i felt foolish and unwise, because all i could go off of was a "feeling". a feeling that this was something i would love. so to combat my insecurities stemming from other people's insecurities i engaged in some personal research. i tried to do something smart, tried to somehow prepare, so that i could prove "i was prepared."
all of this was entirely against my nature, and was only to appease those questioning me. but... i started by calling midwives in various cities, all but my own. i was too intimidated to talk face to face with a real life midwife.
i remember one of the women i called saying her least favorite part of the job was that she became so close to these pregnant women and their families. she took part in such a milestone of their lives, such a raw-intimate-now-we-know-eachother-forever-moment, but then they sort of just vanish. the baby gets older, everyone gets busier, naturally they don't see much of each other again. she saw it as a sense of loss. she didn't like that part of the job, these intense one year relationships. she wanted them to last.
i should have told her to move to a village. to practice midwifery work in boamadumase. your clients won't ever forget you, you'll get to see them every day. like a fine kente weave, you come in and out of their lives, each day, every day. there is really no way around it. you depend on them as much as they depend on you.
village life is symbiotic.
but not with these mali folk, and ultimately not with me either. we have our own tribes. although i'd like to think i will have a lasting relationship with this place.
the mali folk will travel on, and who knows what will happen, with them, or the baby.
all we could do was offer her a little advice and a handful of folic acid.
when they were leaving, Maame Vic asked the woman to do her hair, and mine. the lady said she would, but they left town that afternoon, and walked onward.
"oh well." we both said, the next day when we realized we'd been deserted. "at least efreeyeh and sofie are looking beautiful."
"but weren't they cool?" everyone said.
as i was exploring the village one early morning, on my way to work, taking pictures of kids and dogs and baby ducks, one of the mali women ran across the road over to me.
she grabbed at my dress and inched up uncomfortably close to my face. then she spoke her language. i had no idea what language it was.
i tried to back away, but every time i did she grabbed my dress tighter and got closer.
she smelled like dirty goat and smoked cheese. she didn't smell ghanaian, and i hadn't realized until that point that there was a distinct ghanaian smell. it was anything other than what i was smelling now.
everything about her was different. she had unusually pink gums. they almost looked edible.
i didn't particularly like her gripping me the way she was, but it seemed desperate, so i tried hard to understand what she was explaining.
she was pointing to her dress, it had different colored swirls all over it. she singled out a red swirl and counted to 7.
what was i to think?
"wote twi?" i asked.
she said yes she speaks small twi.
"yeka twi. let's speak twi."
she told me about blood, and months, and medicine, but none of it made much sense. "i'm sorry" i said "i don't understand what you are saying. do you want medicine?"
she said yes yes yes she wants medicine.
"then come today to the clinic." i said.
she told me she would see me soon.
then i summoned up the courage and asked if i could take her picture, because she was unusually beautiful, and she said of course. then she modeled, and pressured me into taking 3 pictures, instead of 1.
well that was easy, i thought as i walked away.
when i got to work i told Maame Vic the mali people would be coming for a visit, and when they came walking down the road towards us, we sat and stared at them. they walked in long strings of pairs, husbands and wives.
they were taller and leaner and boneier. they dressed in more clothes. they were muslim.
we brought the woman i had just met earlier that morning into Vic's office. she sat down and spoke in a clippy blunt accent. it was my first time hearing twi in a foreign african accent. i could barely understand it, but Vic could.
she responded "no, no, we don't do that here."
"do what?" sofie and i asked.
"she's asking for medicine to get blood. she says she hasn't had her period for 1 month, but she's had it the past 7 months, and she wants it. so she's asking for medicine to get the blood back."
"she wants an abortion?" i asked.
"oh no, that's not in our services." sofie said.
"but she doesn't think she's pregnant." vic said.
"but she hasn't had her period for 1 month?"
we all gave each other a dubious look.
"does she know about birth control?" i asked. "we should at least council her in that. for the future."
vic explained this to our mali friend.
she was enthusiastic and wanted an injection of depo provera right away.
"first let's find out if she's pregnant." one of us said.
she left, peed, and came back in to wait with us. kingsley brought in the results.
positive.
again, the mother was unhappy with the news, but coping better than the last. i was already growing frustrated with my emotions regarding unwanted pregnancy. i wanted her to want it. i wanted to be supportive to her. i was already imagining talking to the unborn child 35 years from now. hearing his amazing life tale, telling him about his beginnings.
"well no depo for her i guess."
"let's at least get her some folic acid."
vic called the husband in the room and talked with them both. he smelled like smoke from a wood fire and wore a funny red hat. the kind a circus monkey might wear, boxy-made of felt. he had a neck full of leather jewelry dangling down to his chest. it looked special, like the charms were loaded with secret spells. i had to ask once they were through talking. i asked a few other things as well.
i concluded with "... and why exactly are they here in boama, what do they DO?"
"they walk around and sell their medicines." vic said "do you see? they have medicine there in their bags, you see? it is special from mali, they sell it from village to village. they walk everywhere."
they both were sitting, contemplativly in their chairs, trying to engage but unable to devote much energy to conversation. they just found out they were going to have their 6th child. they seemed like a wonderful couple, close and caring.
working in the clinic is strange. i'm not used to this sort of work, the kind where you know people's most intimate affairs. sofie is used to it. and really, the village is SMALL, so one begins to feel they know too much.
we walk through town together, we pass the man who is being treated for his urinary tract infection, we eat dinner with the woman who has a spleen so large it resembles another breast, i play soccer with the cute guy who comes in every day for an injection in his ass. (all the girls have a hard time with that one, figuratively and literally. the guy is fit. he is one big muscle. they all tried pawning it off on me.)
"since you love injections so much, you take the cute guy."
"it's not in my job description." i say. "looks like you'll have to do it."
i buy rice, bread, eggs from women i've seen naked, frightened or brave, lying supine on the bed in the ward. i sing in church, my voice mixing with the 20 other members, half of which are grandmothers of children i've seen be born.
i interviewed a few midwives before i came to ghana only because people said skeptically (but lovingly) "you've never seen a birth before and you're going to work in a birthing clinic, in africa? can you handle all the blood?"
every time i agreed with their statement, and said i don't know if i could handle the blood, i felt foolish and unwise, because all i could go off of was a "feeling". a feeling that this was something i would love. so to combat my insecurities stemming from other people's insecurities i engaged in some personal research. i tried to do something smart, tried to somehow prepare, so that i could prove "i was prepared."
all of this was entirely against my nature, and was only to appease those questioning me. but... i started by calling midwives in various cities, all but my own. i was too intimidated to talk face to face with a real life midwife.
i remember one of the women i called saying her least favorite part of the job was that she became so close to these pregnant women and their families. she took part in such a milestone of their lives, such a raw-intimate-now-we-know-eachother-forever-moment, but then they sort of just vanish. the baby gets older, everyone gets busier, naturally they don't see much of each other again. she saw it as a sense of loss. she didn't like that part of the job, these intense one year relationships. she wanted them to last.
i should have told her to move to a village. to practice midwifery work in boamadumase. your clients won't ever forget you, you'll get to see them every day. like a fine kente weave, you come in and out of their lives, each day, every day. there is really no way around it. you depend on them as much as they depend on you.
village life is symbiotic.
but not with these mali folk, and ultimately not with me either. we have our own tribes. although i'd like to think i will have a lasting relationship with this place.
the mali folk will travel on, and who knows what will happen, with them, or the baby.
all we could do was offer her a little advice and a handful of folic acid.
when they were leaving, Maame Vic asked the woman to do her hair, and mine. the lady said she would, but they left town that afternoon, and walked onward.
"oh well." we both said, the next day when we realized we'd been deserted. "at least efreeyeh and sofie are looking beautiful."
"but weren't they cool?" everyone said.
nanakwame
it was dark, and cool, because it had just rained, again. sometimes i like to shine a flashlight into my dinner bowl, just to see what i am eating. because knowing what one is eating is comforting. but on this particular night, the air was the type of humid that encourages big nasty insects to fly around, into lights, into bowls, and sakola swatted at my torch when i brought it out.
"you're right." i said tucking it away.
we ate our food in silence, because that is the way sakola likes it. he prefers to not talk while we are eating. in fact, he prefers no sound at all. one night i was happy and decided to hum while i swallowed (most ghanaian food is meant to be swallowed, not chewed. there is a specific word that means "to chew one's food")
"ei! kissy! wo kasa dodo! you talk too much."
"i'm not saying anything."
"you see?"
"see what?" i asked.
"NO! you SING! you SING when you eat, is no good, no good at all."
so i shut up. and then, i couldn't stop giggling, because dinner seemed so serious. i looked over at collins (who eats out of his own bowl, unlike everyone else who shares a bowl) and i winked. no response.
some nights on the porch are brimming with entertainment with random people stopping by to share in the food or tell outrageous stories, or play board games, or just relax and share in the passing moments. one of our favorite past times is to make fun of NanaKwame's english. of his i'dliketosay. everyone gets in on this, especially collin's mother, who is always working hard cooking or cleaning or preparing her lesson for her kindegartoners the next day. he's fiesty enough to defend himself and continue speaking however he pleases while we all roll around on the ground laughing.
other nights seem long, slow, and the interaction is dry. no talking while eating nights. those are the nights it's hard for me to sit up straight on the benches, without squirming around and wanting to walk home rather than wait for dinner to come. those are the nights i don't like speaking twi, each word struggles to come out of my mouth and my ears hurt from listening to it. those are the nights when i feel i am completely used to everything, that it has all become like second nature, and although it is long and slow and interaction is dry- i still love it.
and on this dark cool night, when i was sitting like a good school girl not uttering a word, dipping my hands into the bowl and swooping out my fufuo, swallowing then swooping again, i heard a loud scrambling on the side of the house.
i ignored it.
then we all heard it.
no one mentioned a thing.
there was the sound again, then in a grand entrance nanakwame came swinging around the corner, tumbling over himself and the ground and smacking into the side of the porch, then disappearing underneath.
we looked at each other with quizzacal faces.
"MMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY PEEEOOOPPLLEE!!" nanakwame screamed out, as he popped up from the ground, then on to the porch. he jogged in place saying "ooohh ohhhh my peoooplllee!"
"KESSSSS!" he ran over to me, picked me up, shook me around. "KESS KESS KESS! OH KESS!"
then he dropped me.
sakola had a big grin on his face, staring up at nanakwame from the bench we eat dinner on. i whispered "someones pretty drunk huh?" and sakola laughed and shook his head. all the brothers claim they don't drink, although i've "caught" all of them and their friends, except collins, wasted at one point or another. mostly after a funeral.
but tonite was like any other week night. what occasion was there for nanakwame to get drunk?
i looked over, he had sakola's 4 year old sister lifted high and he was spinning her around. she didn't like it at all. children can feel when they're safety is endangered, i could see why she didn't want to be his play toy. she squirmed out of his arms and ran away.
collin's father, who is always crouched on the porch, quietly wrapped in a blanket, who is constantly coughing and growing thinner each day, began to yell. i never hear him yell. he is a peaceful sick soul, who usually doesn't raise his voice. "ah! nanakwame! it's too much!"
nanakwame didn't hear a word he said. he ran back over to us and started dancing. "EHHH HEE HEH MY FAMILY!!! I'DLIKETOSAY DANCE!"
we continued with our fufuo.
"Nanakwame and apeteshie have become very close." i said. i knew this would be the type of comment the family would consider funny, so i said it and they all laughed. collins repeated it in twi to nanakwame and nanakwame, like a good drunk, became very serious. "KESS! you da say i am drink?"
when sakola drinks (which he rarely does) he becomes brave and uses english words i've never heard him utter in the day. he speaks a lot more and a lot better. but when nanakwame drinks conversation begins to resemble a jigsaw puzzle, or those single word fridge magnets that are meant to be arranged into poetry, or incoherent sentences.
"you da say i been back you i'dliketosay drink the drink? NO! i no!"
a long silent moment passes as we all try to figure that one out.
"are you speaking english?" i ask.
then me and the family erupt once again in laughter.
"kess! you laughing me? you'd say i'dliketosay i go mate tro tro konongonkumasi i'dliketosay tonite?"
"what?"
"OH KESS! my english is i'dliketosay you say i go take the drink town yeahh!"
"i'm going to the clinic" i tell everyone, "thanks for dinner."
it is my nightly routine to check and see if there are any women who have began labor. the walk helps me digest the big ball of fufuo in my belly (sofie and i call them our fufuo babies and this night i was 7 months), and if i cover all my limbs and wear a hood i can sneak through the village without being recognized as an oburoni. it makes for great voyeurism.
but this night, nanakwame was intent on accompanying me.
"no no stay here" i said "i can go alone."
"KESS? you'dsay you bring clinic no go why?"
i wasn't going to try and make sense of anything coming out of his mouth. "nanakwame" i began "don't speak drunk english. it's really bad. just speak twi."
"you say is bad?"
"when you are drunk, yes. it's really bad. i'm going to the clinic, you should eat your dinner."
"NO KESS!" he screamed in a funny voice "NO! wait me. wait me."
then he scarfed down a bowl of fufuo came over to me and told me to wait just a while longer. "i am going to bathe." he said. "wait me."
"i'm leaving." i said, unsure of the truth of the statement. walking around town with him in this state could have been interesting, i knew this, so i lingered, then threatend. "okay, fine, you have 5 minutes."
5 minutes drunk time can last forever, i learned this playing hide and go seek with my once alchoholic father. then it was to my advantage. drunk time is more similar to kid time, it is easily entertained and can go on forever, until it falls flat on it's face and doesn't get up. i was not on drunk time. the longer i waited, the more i realized... i was on sober kacie time. i wanted to leave in 5 minutes, go directly to the clinic, then return. all in a timely fashion. i wasn't in the mood for an inebriated stroll.
"c'mon nanakwame, you have 2 more minutes!"
he hadn't even fetched his bucket of water. "wait me i'm bath water cold i come kess!"
madame yelled at him to hurry or i'd leave. my sudden punctuality, and everyone supporting it, was humorous. "1 minute!" i screamed.
the moon was plump, spilling it's light everywhere. i notice the stages of the moon more in a electricity-less village. i know the times i need to bring a lantern out to the latrine, and the times when i'll be able to see from the natural light of the night.
this night was the type of night i had to turn my head. nanakwame was bathing 5 feet from the porch, which isn't anything new. typically his black naked body blends in with the stark black surroundings, and i stare out in his direction, while we talk and he scrubs.
but not now.
i fell back and looked up at the stars. i talked to sakola and told him about my dreams. 1 week of nightmares, again. i played hand clapping games with his little sister. i drank some water.
nanakwame ran over and grabbed a towel from the clothesline above my head. then he put on some clothes.
"ready?" i said.
"lez go." he said.
his cold bath seemed to sober him up a bit, enough for the walk to be relatively uneventful. we walked arm in arm the entire way, me supporting us through the slipping and sliding in the thick red mud. further on down the road, closer to the clinic, and after a heavy hard rain, the ground begins to resemble quicksand. we had a lot of fun once we reached that point, laughing and nearly falling over or sinking deep every 2 feet.
on the walk back home, after an unsuccesful attempt of dancing at the town bar (nanakwame got in a shoving match before we entered) we chatted a bit, mostly none of it making sense, while he (unaware) shone his flashlight in oncoming people's faces.
a small boy, maybe 7 years old, had been walking behind us for quite some time. i hadn't paid him much attention until he said in a nice firm voice "NanaKwame your english is broken. if you want to speak it you should speak it correctly. come to my house and i'll give you lessons." then he veered off down a path into his hut.
i wasn't aware there was a child nearby who spoke so well. nanakwame was shamed into confession.
"i'dliketosay i drink apeteshie kess, i drink too much!"
"i know, nanakwame, i know. it's pretty obvious, but thanks for admitting any way."
"ya kess ya! i'dliketosay my english is correct! is correct! ya?!"
"yes, it's correct, kind of, when you're not drunk."
"oh keesssss!" he reached down and swooped me up, swinging me around in drunken glee.
"thanks for walking me home." i said.
"awwwwwwwww kess, you're my sister! kess! is correct!"
"you're right." i said tucking it away.
we ate our food in silence, because that is the way sakola likes it. he prefers to not talk while we are eating. in fact, he prefers no sound at all. one night i was happy and decided to hum while i swallowed (most ghanaian food is meant to be swallowed, not chewed. there is a specific word that means "to chew one's food")
"ei! kissy! wo kasa dodo! you talk too much."
"i'm not saying anything."
"you see?"
"see what?" i asked.
"NO! you SING! you SING when you eat, is no good, no good at all."
so i shut up. and then, i couldn't stop giggling, because dinner seemed so serious. i looked over at collins (who eats out of his own bowl, unlike everyone else who shares a bowl) and i winked. no response.
some nights on the porch are brimming with entertainment with random people stopping by to share in the food or tell outrageous stories, or play board games, or just relax and share in the passing moments. one of our favorite past times is to make fun of NanaKwame's english. of his i'dliketosay. everyone gets in on this, especially collin's mother, who is always working hard cooking or cleaning or preparing her lesson for her kindegartoners the next day. he's fiesty enough to defend himself and continue speaking however he pleases while we all roll around on the ground laughing.
other nights seem long, slow, and the interaction is dry. no talking while eating nights. those are the nights it's hard for me to sit up straight on the benches, without squirming around and wanting to walk home rather than wait for dinner to come. those are the nights i don't like speaking twi, each word struggles to come out of my mouth and my ears hurt from listening to it. those are the nights when i feel i am completely used to everything, that it has all become like second nature, and although it is long and slow and interaction is dry- i still love it.
and on this dark cool night, when i was sitting like a good school girl not uttering a word, dipping my hands into the bowl and swooping out my fufuo, swallowing then swooping again, i heard a loud scrambling on the side of the house.
i ignored it.
then we all heard it.
no one mentioned a thing.
there was the sound again, then in a grand entrance nanakwame came swinging around the corner, tumbling over himself and the ground and smacking into the side of the porch, then disappearing underneath.
we looked at each other with quizzacal faces.
"MMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY PEEEOOOPPLLEE!!" nanakwame screamed out, as he popped up from the ground, then on to the porch. he jogged in place saying "ooohh ohhhh my peoooplllee!"
"KESSSSS!" he ran over to me, picked me up, shook me around. "KESS KESS KESS! OH KESS!"
then he dropped me.
sakola had a big grin on his face, staring up at nanakwame from the bench we eat dinner on. i whispered "someones pretty drunk huh?" and sakola laughed and shook his head. all the brothers claim they don't drink, although i've "caught" all of them and their friends, except collins, wasted at one point or another. mostly after a funeral.
but tonite was like any other week night. what occasion was there for nanakwame to get drunk?
i looked over, he had sakola's 4 year old sister lifted high and he was spinning her around. she didn't like it at all. children can feel when they're safety is endangered, i could see why she didn't want to be his play toy. she squirmed out of his arms and ran away.
collin's father, who is always crouched on the porch, quietly wrapped in a blanket, who is constantly coughing and growing thinner each day, began to yell. i never hear him yell. he is a peaceful sick soul, who usually doesn't raise his voice. "ah! nanakwame! it's too much!"
nanakwame didn't hear a word he said. he ran back over to us and started dancing. "EHHH HEE HEH MY FAMILY!!! I'DLIKETOSAY DANCE!"
we continued with our fufuo.
"Nanakwame and apeteshie have become very close." i said. i knew this would be the type of comment the family would consider funny, so i said it and they all laughed. collins repeated it in twi to nanakwame and nanakwame, like a good drunk, became very serious. "KESS! you da say i am drink?"
when sakola drinks (which he rarely does) he becomes brave and uses english words i've never heard him utter in the day. he speaks a lot more and a lot better. but when nanakwame drinks conversation begins to resemble a jigsaw puzzle, or those single word fridge magnets that are meant to be arranged into poetry, or incoherent sentences.
"you da say i been back you i'dliketosay drink the drink? NO! i no!"
a long silent moment passes as we all try to figure that one out.
"are you speaking english?" i ask.
then me and the family erupt once again in laughter.
"kess! you laughing me? you'd say i'dliketosay i go mate tro tro konongonkumasi i'dliketosay tonite?"
"what?"
"OH KESS! my english is i'dliketosay you say i go take the drink town yeahh!"
"i'm going to the clinic" i tell everyone, "thanks for dinner."
it is my nightly routine to check and see if there are any women who have began labor. the walk helps me digest the big ball of fufuo in my belly (sofie and i call them our fufuo babies and this night i was 7 months), and if i cover all my limbs and wear a hood i can sneak through the village without being recognized as an oburoni. it makes for great voyeurism.
but this night, nanakwame was intent on accompanying me.
"no no stay here" i said "i can go alone."
"KESS? you'dsay you bring clinic no go why?"
i wasn't going to try and make sense of anything coming out of his mouth. "nanakwame" i began "don't speak drunk english. it's really bad. just speak twi."
"you say is bad?"
"when you are drunk, yes. it's really bad. i'm going to the clinic, you should eat your dinner."
"NO KESS!" he screamed in a funny voice "NO! wait me. wait me."
then he scarfed down a bowl of fufuo came over to me and told me to wait just a while longer. "i am going to bathe." he said. "wait me."
"i'm leaving." i said, unsure of the truth of the statement. walking around town with him in this state could have been interesting, i knew this, so i lingered, then threatend. "okay, fine, you have 5 minutes."
5 minutes drunk time can last forever, i learned this playing hide and go seek with my once alchoholic father. then it was to my advantage. drunk time is more similar to kid time, it is easily entertained and can go on forever, until it falls flat on it's face and doesn't get up. i was not on drunk time. the longer i waited, the more i realized... i was on sober kacie time. i wanted to leave in 5 minutes, go directly to the clinic, then return. all in a timely fashion. i wasn't in the mood for an inebriated stroll.
"c'mon nanakwame, you have 2 more minutes!"
he hadn't even fetched his bucket of water. "wait me i'm bath water cold i come kess!"
madame yelled at him to hurry or i'd leave. my sudden punctuality, and everyone supporting it, was humorous. "1 minute!" i screamed.
the moon was plump, spilling it's light everywhere. i notice the stages of the moon more in a electricity-less village. i know the times i need to bring a lantern out to the latrine, and the times when i'll be able to see from the natural light of the night.
this night was the type of night i had to turn my head. nanakwame was bathing 5 feet from the porch, which isn't anything new. typically his black naked body blends in with the stark black surroundings, and i stare out in his direction, while we talk and he scrubs.
but not now.
i fell back and looked up at the stars. i talked to sakola and told him about my dreams. 1 week of nightmares, again. i played hand clapping games with his little sister. i drank some water.
nanakwame ran over and grabbed a towel from the clothesline above my head. then he put on some clothes.
"ready?" i said.
"lez go." he said.
his cold bath seemed to sober him up a bit, enough for the walk to be relatively uneventful. we walked arm in arm the entire way, me supporting us through the slipping and sliding in the thick red mud. further on down the road, closer to the clinic, and after a heavy hard rain, the ground begins to resemble quicksand. we had a lot of fun once we reached that point, laughing and nearly falling over or sinking deep every 2 feet.
on the walk back home, after an unsuccesful attempt of dancing at the town bar (nanakwame got in a shoving match before we entered) we chatted a bit, mostly none of it making sense, while he (unaware) shone his flashlight in oncoming people's faces.
a small boy, maybe 7 years old, had been walking behind us for quite some time. i hadn't paid him much attention until he said in a nice firm voice "NanaKwame your english is broken. if you want to speak it you should speak it correctly. come to my house and i'll give you lessons." then he veered off down a path into his hut.
i wasn't aware there was a child nearby who spoke so well. nanakwame was shamed into confession.
"i'dliketosay i drink apeteshie kess, i drink too much!"
"i know, nanakwame, i know. it's pretty obvious, but thanks for admitting any way."
"ya kess ya! i'dliketosay my english is correct! is correct! ya?!"
"yes, it's correct, kind of, when you're not drunk."
"oh keesssss!" he reached down and swooped me up, swinging me around in drunken glee.
"thanks for walking me home." i said.
"awwwwwwwww kess, you're my sister! kess! is correct!"
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
finally...
sofie and i were in the dark, sitting on a little wooden bench, in town, sharing a bowl of oahze.
it was our second night enjoying this exotic food.
i never thought i would need a break from fufuo, but my excited anticipation for oahze proved me wrong.
a woman approached me with a calmly disturbed look on her face. she was doing something a lot of locals do to me. they mumble inaudible twi and attempt to talk through hand gestures.
i can speak twi, i told her.
that didn't seem to change her form of delivery. she kept patting her belly with both hands, staring at me.
then i heard it. the words i love to hear.
i wanted to make sure i wasn't dreaming so i repeated them back to her. "your daughter has gone to the clinic to deliver?"
she shook her head like we were playing charades, and i had guessed correctly. i suppose we were playing charades, and i was glad to have guessed correctly.
see ya!
i ran to the clinic, as fast as i could go, and barged into the front room. watchman had already left to call Ma and Efreeyeh, i was the first to arrive.
when Ma saw me she laughed at my eagerness. "how did you know to come?" she said. efreeyeh was suprised to see me there also.
"i'm glad the old lady told me or else i'm sure i wouldn't have heard about it. it's night, you wouldn't have come for me."
ma grunted. "but watchman came for you the other night. so you shouldn't be saying that we won't call you. by all means, we want you to be here. we are glad you are here."
the woman looked small to be delivering already, but according to her charts all was as expected. her family, all women, gathered in the front room and kept each other company. sofie noticed she was from a village we had done an outreach to. "it's far man! i tried riding my bike but i couldn't. that's how far it was."
the lady had walked the entire distance, in the dark and in flip flops, and was now 5 cm dilated.
women like this are my sheroes.
she went back to the delivery room and rested on the bed.
time moved slowly, as it always does when a woman is in labor, so Ma went to rest on the bed. i followed her into the resting room, the napping room.
"hey Ma, can i deliver the baby tonite?"
she chuckled. "as you wish" was all she said.
"so yes?" i needed to confirm.
"as for me, i would prefer for you to deliver a child in the daytime, when there is full light. but if you are able tonite, than you shall deliver the child tonite. i hope you are ready."
"i'm ready. if, it's okay with you."
i wanted to clear up any possible confusion.
"then, you shall do it."
"okay."
i ran out of the room back to the labor ward. i sat there, jittery with excitement. efreeyeh was sleeping. i woke her up. "Ma's gonna let me deliver the baby." she laughed and closed her eyes again. i ran out.
i didn't know what to do with myself, and the wind was blowing in just the right way, so i called my family. the reception was poor, but it was good to hear their voices. we talked for a short time when all of a sudden i got an incredible urge to go to the bathroom. 'i gotta go!' i said, hanging up and running back inside. i heard Ma yell "KAISY!", and i flew down the hallway into the delivery room.
"won't you put on some gloves. she will be having her child at any moment."
it had happened a lot more quickly than 2 hours.
i put on some gloves, got myself wrapped up in an apron, and got to the side of the table just in time. the baby's head was coming, and Ma was telling me to be gentle.
i was afraid my hands were being too gentle, that i wasn't helping much.
ma helped stretch the way open for the baby to come. the woman was barely making any noise. everything seemed to be going in slow silent motion, the baby traveling through her resembled a lazy boat ride on 'It's a small world'. all was well. my hands looked inexperienced, willing, brave.
sofie was somewhere in the room, observing. she hadn't seen a birth in years, she said.
when the baby came it was a joint effort, Ma and i, and it slid between her mother's legs onto the table. i stared at it.
i kind of delivered this child, i thought.
i blinked once, she blinked once, and realized, i DID deliver this child!
then i snapped back into mode, cut the cord, the placenta came right after, smoothly, safely. i washed the baby, dried and wrapped her up. she is a beautiful baby, with a big face and a calm presence.
i'm certain the mother's beautiful delivery made for it's seamless cushioned entry into the world. the baby was happy. she wasn't screaming from pain, discomfort, shock. her eyes were exploring, her head was cone shaped, and she was bundled and warm.
"give her to her mother." sofie said.
"um, i wish. we don't do that here."
"for fuck's sake, she was the one who just went through all that. she can't be with her baby."
i looked at Ma.
"by all means" Ma began "she will see her baby in the other room."
i took the baby and slinked down the hallway, in my new fashion, rushing it out to see it's relatives who were all waiting in those long still moments. Ma doesn't know i do this, because she naps after delivery. if she saw me, she'd yell at me, but the family is always thrilled. then when the mother comes back, minutes later, they're holding the baby for her, until she takes it.
it never has to sit, lonely in an empty room, waiting for who knows how long.
the sisters, mother, aunties jumped around and said "wayadee, onyame hyira wo!". which means, you have done well, God bless you.
it was a wonderful experience, empowering and challenging, with a perfect end result.
i went back to help clean up the after effects. the mop was the last thing i thought about.
it was our second night enjoying this exotic food.
i never thought i would need a break from fufuo, but my excited anticipation for oahze proved me wrong.
a woman approached me with a calmly disturbed look on her face. she was doing something a lot of locals do to me. they mumble inaudible twi and attempt to talk through hand gestures.
i can speak twi, i told her.
that didn't seem to change her form of delivery. she kept patting her belly with both hands, staring at me.
then i heard it. the words i love to hear.
i wanted to make sure i wasn't dreaming so i repeated them back to her. "your daughter has gone to the clinic to deliver?"
she shook her head like we were playing charades, and i had guessed correctly. i suppose we were playing charades, and i was glad to have guessed correctly.
see ya!
i ran to the clinic, as fast as i could go, and barged into the front room. watchman had already left to call Ma and Efreeyeh, i was the first to arrive.
when Ma saw me she laughed at my eagerness. "how did you know to come?" she said. efreeyeh was suprised to see me there also.
"i'm glad the old lady told me or else i'm sure i wouldn't have heard about it. it's night, you wouldn't have come for me."
ma grunted. "but watchman came for you the other night. so you shouldn't be saying that we won't call you. by all means, we want you to be here. we are glad you are here."
the woman looked small to be delivering already, but according to her charts all was as expected. her family, all women, gathered in the front room and kept each other company. sofie noticed she was from a village we had done an outreach to. "it's far man! i tried riding my bike but i couldn't. that's how far it was."
the lady had walked the entire distance, in the dark and in flip flops, and was now 5 cm dilated.
women like this are my sheroes.
she went back to the delivery room and rested on the bed.
time moved slowly, as it always does when a woman is in labor, so Ma went to rest on the bed. i followed her into the resting room, the napping room.
"hey Ma, can i deliver the baby tonite?"
she chuckled. "as you wish" was all she said.
"so yes?" i needed to confirm.
"as for me, i would prefer for you to deliver a child in the daytime, when there is full light. but if you are able tonite, than you shall deliver the child tonite. i hope you are ready."
"i'm ready. if, it's okay with you."
i wanted to clear up any possible confusion.
"then, you shall do it."
"okay."
i ran out of the room back to the labor ward. i sat there, jittery with excitement. efreeyeh was sleeping. i woke her up. "Ma's gonna let me deliver the baby." she laughed and closed her eyes again. i ran out.
i didn't know what to do with myself, and the wind was blowing in just the right way, so i called my family. the reception was poor, but it was good to hear their voices. we talked for a short time when all of a sudden i got an incredible urge to go to the bathroom. 'i gotta go!' i said, hanging up and running back inside. i heard Ma yell "KAISY!", and i flew down the hallway into the delivery room.
"won't you put on some gloves. she will be having her child at any moment."
it had happened a lot more quickly than 2 hours.
i put on some gloves, got myself wrapped up in an apron, and got to the side of the table just in time. the baby's head was coming, and Ma was telling me to be gentle.
i was afraid my hands were being too gentle, that i wasn't helping much.
ma helped stretch the way open for the baby to come. the woman was barely making any noise. everything seemed to be going in slow silent motion, the baby traveling through her resembled a lazy boat ride on 'It's a small world'. all was well. my hands looked inexperienced, willing, brave.
sofie was somewhere in the room, observing. she hadn't seen a birth in years, she said.
when the baby came it was a joint effort, Ma and i, and it slid between her mother's legs onto the table. i stared at it.
i kind of delivered this child, i thought.
i blinked once, she blinked once, and realized, i DID deliver this child!
then i snapped back into mode, cut the cord, the placenta came right after, smoothly, safely. i washed the baby, dried and wrapped her up. she is a beautiful baby, with a big face and a calm presence.
i'm certain the mother's beautiful delivery made for it's seamless cushioned entry into the world. the baby was happy. she wasn't screaming from pain, discomfort, shock. her eyes were exploring, her head was cone shaped, and she was bundled and warm.
"give her to her mother." sofie said.
"um, i wish. we don't do that here."
"for fuck's sake, she was the one who just went through all that. she can't be with her baby."
i looked at Ma.
"by all means" Ma began "she will see her baby in the other room."
i took the baby and slinked down the hallway, in my new fashion, rushing it out to see it's relatives who were all waiting in those long still moments. Ma doesn't know i do this, because she naps after delivery. if she saw me, she'd yell at me, but the family is always thrilled. then when the mother comes back, minutes later, they're holding the baby for her, until she takes it.
it never has to sit, lonely in an empty room, waiting for who knows how long.
the sisters, mother, aunties jumped around and said "wayadee, onyame hyira wo!". which means, you have done well, God bless you.
it was a wonderful experience, empowering and challenging, with a perfect end result.
i went back to help clean up the after effects. the mop was the last thing i thought about.
mysterious mali people, mysterious oahze
limping through the village has expanded my vocabulary.
i now know how to say, "i went running and i fell." and a few other useful phrases.
i haven't tried running again, except for once.
sofie and i were taking an early morning stroll through the village. instead of walking on the road, we weaved through the houses on the side of the road. we were in search of food, mostly. anything other than porridge and rice and beans.
"do you think there is any food back here?" she pointed.
"let's go see."
so we walked in the opposite direction of the clinic, towards the football pitch and the local elementary school. children were dressed in their uniforms, looking spiffy, carrying their chairs on their heads, or the little ones with just a notebook.
"akua!"
i heard a young woman call my name.
i turned and looked to see a church friend of mine. she was in her nightie and a hair net, outside her compound, with her girlfriends. they were all laughing at her.
"akua, my daughter will not go to school." she said in twi.
i didn't see any children around. "where is she?" i asked.
"oye ha. she's there. sitting in the field. she refuses to go to school."
sofie and i looked ahead, into the distance. her daughter was not yet 6 and she was already playing hookie. she was sitting in her little pink dress, all alone, with her arms crossed.
"akua... she is scared of you."
i knew this. a lot of the village children are afraid of me. my white skin is so foreign they don't know what to believe. if they aren't sticking their little fingers out waiting for me to bop them, they run away from me like i am a mad dog.
"akua, i'm sorry. but she won't go to school. i want her to go to school. can you please chase her into her classroom?"
"sure!" i said, then i lightly jogged in the direction of her daughter. i was close to 100 feet away when she stood up, alert. i kept jogging, slowly, and she began to turn and run. when i was close to 25 feet, she screamed and sprinted into school, straight through the entry way into her class.
all the women clapped loudly, laughed hard, and told me God would bless me for my good work.
"do you reckon we could do that every day?" sofie said.
"we should! let's make it our life work. attendance promoters. we could live in villages all over ghana and chase kids to school. maybe charge a small fee?"
we kept talking and decided to give up our search for food and go to work. "maybe tonite, let's look for something different to eat tonite." we decided.
our life had become very routine, and we needed a little spicing it up. collin's mother traveled to accra so we were left to find our own dinner, or cook it. we decided finding it would be easier, and more fun.
when we got to work, every body was up in a stir. "the mali people are here! the mali people are here!" Ma Vic, Vera, Kingsley, everyone was acting if they had just seen the easter bunny.
sofie and andrew had spotted them the day before, and come home elated. "have you seen them?" they asked me. "there are so many!" i hadn't.
sofie joined in with the enthusiasm. "they're sooooo cool."
efreeyeh walked around the corner. she looked gorgeous. her hair had been woven, intricate strands tying up into a high bun.
"efreeyeh you are looking sweet." kingsley said.
"ya, efreeyeh, look at you! beauty queen!" i said.
"you think so?" she gave us a look. a look that was glad to be reveling in beauty. a look that said she was having fun with her new do'. i liked this new sassy efreeyeh.
"uh huh." vic said "the Mali people have made your hair beautiful."
"the Mali people did that?" i asked.
she nodded. "they will do yours if you let them."
i most definately would let them. somebody went into town and called for one of the mali woman. she would come down later, they said.
we continued into a typical day, except that a severe rainstorm poured down. it was exciting. true hard thunder, flashes of bright lightening straight above our heads. i love the intensity of african rainstorms. i ran around barefoot in the heavy thick drops for a bit, got soaked, then went into the office with efreeyeh to learn a little anatomy from sofie. the clinic had been momentarily deserted, and the absence of people forced us all into rainy day health clinic arts and crafts.
she was drawing a human body, with attachable organs, and cutting them out.
the mali woman came in the middle of our project. i could see why everybody was so enthralled, she was exotic looking. very mysterious. very foreign.
"proper african hippies." sofie called them.
vic said she liked them because "all of them, they have everything they need in their bags. they won't ask for anything, they have everything, their own bowls and blankets, you see? they move around, with little little, they are free!"
kingsley claimed them all to be "very fine, very fine indeed."
the woman was wearing long flowy clothing and her wrists and ankles were wrapped in colorful beaded jewelry. she spoke no english, no twi and was shy as a doe, peeking out from a beautiful cloth draped over her head, exposing her face which was tatooed. little bursts of ink, where wrinkles from happy eyes form, covered her cheekbones and temples. her bottom lip was tattooed in blue also.
she walked over to my hair, and i took it out of the rubber band. i wanted my hair like efreeyeh's, spiraled braids working their way up my head.
she began her work, but after 5 minutes stopped.
"akua, your hair is too greasy." efreeyeh said.
"it's wet." sofie corrected.
"no, it's that your hair is, how do you call it? not slimy, slippery! it's too slippery. you must have hair like mine, rough rough, for this style, you see?"
"can she do mine?" sofie asked.
"let us see."
the woman could do sofies, and worked her hands all around her head while i cut out the large intestine, kidneys, a uterus. i was happy for sofie, her hair looked great. "all my life my hair has been such an issue." she's said. and on this trip, it appeared to be her daily disturbance. she stopped washing it the first day she arrived, and kept the shampoo fast going for almost 2 months. everyday she would ask "how's it look, manky?"
no, i'd say. her hair is dry and brittle, bordering african. in this case, she said, it was an advantage.
"she will come tommorrow to do yours. when it is dry." efreeyeh said.
sofie and i went out that night, into town, scavenging for dinner, something out of the norm. we passed the mosque, which was full of the mali people. they brought more life and energy to that mosque than i had seen since i arrived. they were outside, with the teapots, huddled in groups, peacefully enjoying each others company.
"i get it." i said to sofie, referring to my own thoughts of why all the townspeople can't take their eye's off of us. all i wanted to do was stare. these strangers were so interesting.
a patient at the clinic earlier that day said "i saw one of them eating rice. i saw them eating rice!" as if they caught a dolphin in the midst of some typical human behaviour.
we walked by, foreigner staring at foreigner.
"the thing is they have it all mixed up." sofie said awhile later, referring to the food search. "they sell egg sandwiches and hot chocolate at night, and rice and beans in the morning. who eats eggs at night?"
the street was dark, but lively, music was blasting from the local bar, kids were hopping all around. we found a stand selling a certain something she had only tried once. "it's delicious, let's get some."
after we finished our meal, a man walked over holding a pot filled with more food. he lifted the lid and steam rose out, like he was magically charming it to expose itself in swirls. it smelled delectable.
"what is it?" we asked, mesmerized.
in a low voice he said "oahze."
he gave us the bowl, although neither of us asked for it. both of us were excited to try it. "i'd like to pay him." sofie said. but the man had dissapearred. "it was a gift." i reminded her.
he reappeared with 2 spoons. and sofie handed him some cash. "oh please" he said "oh please, you take it. enjoy."
then he left.
we dipped our spoons into the bowl and each took out our tidy servings. we ate it slowly, tasting each bite to the fullest.
"it's so good." i said, closing my eyes and humming with delight.
"it is isn't it? i wonder what it is?"
we kept eating, and letting out little moans of approval. we both came to an agreement it tasted a lot like rice pudding. african rice pudding.
the man came back. "ah i see, you have enjoyed yourselves."
"yes, thank you. please, can you tell us where you got this?"
"oh yes yes, from that woman there. you see? she is selling the egg and bread. she has the oahze there. she sells it from the pot. you can buy some any night. whenever you like."
we beamed with satisfaction. both of us found oahze to be very comforting, and familiar.
"let's go ask her what it is."
we walked over to the woman and i told her her oahze was amazing. we needed to know... what exactly was it?
she laughed and said thank you. then she held up a cylinder carton that i knew all too well.
i looked at sofie and started cracking up.
"sofie? do you see that?"
"what?"
"it's oat's. we were eating oatmeal."
the market woman lifted the lid of her boiling pot and there it was, a pot full of bubbling oatmeal, white and goopy.
"it was so good though!" sofie said, unsure of why oatmeal could taste that great.
"i know?!"
we watched the woman make another bowl of oatmeal. she put about 6 heaping spoonfuls of sugar inside, added some condensed milk, and stirred.
"OHHHHH" we both said.
the allure had vanished, but my desire had not.
i wanted to eat oahze every night that night, and sofie and i made a pact to do just so.
i now know how to say, "i went running and i fell." and a few other useful phrases.
i haven't tried running again, except for once.
sofie and i were taking an early morning stroll through the village. instead of walking on the road, we weaved through the houses on the side of the road. we were in search of food, mostly. anything other than porridge and rice and beans.
"do you think there is any food back here?" she pointed.
"let's go see."
so we walked in the opposite direction of the clinic, towards the football pitch and the local elementary school. children were dressed in their uniforms, looking spiffy, carrying their chairs on their heads, or the little ones with just a notebook.
"akua!"
i heard a young woman call my name.
i turned and looked to see a church friend of mine. she was in her nightie and a hair net, outside her compound, with her girlfriends. they were all laughing at her.
"akua, my daughter will not go to school." she said in twi.
i didn't see any children around. "where is she?" i asked.
"oye ha. she's there. sitting in the field. she refuses to go to school."
sofie and i looked ahead, into the distance. her daughter was not yet 6 and she was already playing hookie. she was sitting in her little pink dress, all alone, with her arms crossed.
"akua... she is scared of you."
i knew this. a lot of the village children are afraid of me. my white skin is so foreign they don't know what to believe. if they aren't sticking their little fingers out waiting for me to bop them, they run away from me like i am a mad dog.
"akua, i'm sorry. but she won't go to school. i want her to go to school. can you please chase her into her classroom?"
"sure!" i said, then i lightly jogged in the direction of her daughter. i was close to 100 feet away when she stood up, alert. i kept jogging, slowly, and she began to turn and run. when i was close to 25 feet, she screamed and sprinted into school, straight through the entry way into her class.
all the women clapped loudly, laughed hard, and told me God would bless me for my good work.
"do you reckon we could do that every day?" sofie said.
"we should! let's make it our life work. attendance promoters. we could live in villages all over ghana and chase kids to school. maybe charge a small fee?"
we kept talking and decided to give up our search for food and go to work. "maybe tonite, let's look for something different to eat tonite." we decided.
our life had become very routine, and we needed a little spicing it up. collin's mother traveled to accra so we were left to find our own dinner, or cook it. we decided finding it would be easier, and more fun.
when we got to work, every body was up in a stir. "the mali people are here! the mali people are here!" Ma Vic, Vera, Kingsley, everyone was acting if they had just seen the easter bunny.
sofie and andrew had spotted them the day before, and come home elated. "have you seen them?" they asked me. "there are so many!" i hadn't.
sofie joined in with the enthusiasm. "they're sooooo cool."
efreeyeh walked around the corner. she looked gorgeous. her hair had been woven, intricate strands tying up into a high bun.
"efreeyeh you are looking sweet." kingsley said.
"ya, efreeyeh, look at you! beauty queen!" i said.
"you think so?" she gave us a look. a look that was glad to be reveling in beauty. a look that said she was having fun with her new do'. i liked this new sassy efreeyeh.
"uh huh." vic said "the Mali people have made your hair beautiful."
"the Mali people did that?" i asked.
she nodded. "they will do yours if you let them."
i most definately would let them. somebody went into town and called for one of the mali woman. she would come down later, they said.
we continued into a typical day, except that a severe rainstorm poured down. it was exciting. true hard thunder, flashes of bright lightening straight above our heads. i love the intensity of african rainstorms. i ran around barefoot in the heavy thick drops for a bit, got soaked, then went into the office with efreeyeh to learn a little anatomy from sofie. the clinic had been momentarily deserted, and the absence of people forced us all into rainy day health clinic arts and crafts.
she was drawing a human body, with attachable organs, and cutting them out.
the mali woman came in the middle of our project. i could see why everybody was so enthralled, she was exotic looking. very mysterious. very foreign.
"proper african hippies." sofie called them.
vic said she liked them because "all of them, they have everything they need in their bags. they won't ask for anything, they have everything, their own bowls and blankets, you see? they move around, with little little, they are free!"
kingsley claimed them all to be "very fine, very fine indeed."
the woman was wearing long flowy clothing and her wrists and ankles were wrapped in colorful beaded jewelry. she spoke no english, no twi and was shy as a doe, peeking out from a beautiful cloth draped over her head, exposing her face which was tatooed. little bursts of ink, where wrinkles from happy eyes form, covered her cheekbones and temples. her bottom lip was tattooed in blue also.
she walked over to my hair, and i took it out of the rubber band. i wanted my hair like efreeyeh's, spiraled braids working their way up my head.
she began her work, but after 5 minutes stopped.
"akua, your hair is too greasy." efreeyeh said.
"it's wet." sofie corrected.
"no, it's that your hair is, how do you call it? not slimy, slippery! it's too slippery. you must have hair like mine, rough rough, for this style, you see?"
"can she do mine?" sofie asked.
"let us see."
the woman could do sofies, and worked her hands all around her head while i cut out the large intestine, kidneys, a uterus. i was happy for sofie, her hair looked great. "all my life my hair has been such an issue." she's said. and on this trip, it appeared to be her daily disturbance. she stopped washing it the first day she arrived, and kept the shampoo fast going for almost 2 months. everyday she would ask "how's it look, manky?"
no, i'd say. her hair is dry and brittle, bordering african. in this case, she said, it was an advantage.
"she will come tommorrow to do yours. when it is dry." efreeyeh said.
sofie and i went out that night, into town, scavenging for dinner, something out of the norm. we passed the mosque, which was full of the mali people. they brought more life and energy to that mosque than i had seen since i arrived. they were outside, with the teapots, huddled in groups, peacefully enjoying each others company.
"i get it." i said to sofie, referring to my own thoughts of why all the townspeople can't take their eye's off of us. all i wanted to do was stare. these strangers were so interesting.
a patient at the clinic earlier that day said "i saw one of them eating rice. i saw them eating rice!" as if they caught a dolphin in the midst of some typical human behaviour.
we walked by, foreigner staring at foreigner.
"the thing is they have it all mixed up." sofie said awhile later, referring to the food search. "they sell egg sandwiches and hot chocolate at night, and rice and beans in the morning. who eats eggs at night?"
the street was dark, but lively, music was blasting from the local bar, kids were hopping all around. we found a stand selling a certain something she had only tried once. "it's delicious, let's get some."
after we finished our meal, a man walked over holding a pot filled with more food. he lifted the lid and steam rose out, like he was magically charming it to expose itself in swirls. it smelled delectable.
"what is it?" we asked, mesmerized.
in a low voice he said "oahze."
he gave us the bowl, although neither of us asked for it. both of us were excited to try it. "i'd like to pay him." sofie said. but the man had dissapearred. "it was a gift." i reminded her.
he reappeared with 2 spoons. and sofie handed him some cash. "oh please" he said "oh please, you take it. enjoy."
then he left.
we dipped our spoons into the bowl and each took out our tidy servings. we ate it slowly, tasting each bite to the fullest.
"it's so good." i said, closing my eyes and humming with delight.
"it is isn't it? i wonder what it is?"
we kept eating, and letting out little moans of approval. we both came to an agreement it tasted a lot like rice pudding. african rice pudding.
the man came back. "ah i see, you have enjoyed yourselves."
"yes, thank you. please, can you tell us where you got this?"
"oh yes yes, from that woman there. you see? she is selling the egg and bread. she has the oahze there. she sells it from the pot. you can buy some any night. whenever you like."
we beamed with satisfaction. both of us found oahze to be very comforting, and familiar.
"let's go ask her what it is."
we walked over to the woman and i told her her oahze was amazing. we needed to know... what exactly was it?
she laughed and said thank you. then she held up a cylinder carton that i knew all too well.
i looked at sofie and started cracking up.
"sofie? do you see that?"
"what?"
"it's oat's. we were eating oatmeal."
the market woman lifted the lid of her boiling pot and there it was, a pot full of bubbling oatmeal, white and goopy.
"it was so good though!" sofie said, unsure of why oatmeal could taste that great.
"i know?!"
we watched the woman make another bowl of oatmeal. she put about 6 heaping spoonfuls of sugar inside, added some condensed milk, and stirred.
"OHHHHH" we both said.
the allure had vanished, but my desire had not.
i wanted to eat oahze every night that night, and sofie and i made a pact to do just so.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
cameroon- on the road
it was me, my family, and our traveling friends- of who i had just met.
we were boarding a short flight, bringing us from the lusch tropical south of cameroon, to the dry dusty north. although the plane ride was only 2 hours, it was a world away.
"it's going to be very hot." my uncle said.
"make sure you bring your camera." my aunt said.
my cousins were being good sports, it was their spring break and when they'd rather be hanging out watching television or spending time with their friends, the next week and a half would be devoted to touring remote villages in the extreme north, with their principal, one of the friends.
i was thrilled they were coming. i like hanging out with teenagers, and i wanted to get to know the adult version of the kids that i once knew.
we stepped off the plane into a thick black haze.
"the harmattan." my uncle said.
i explained what that meant to one of our newcomer friends, who had never been to africa before.
but even though i had seen the harmattan in ghana, the winds blowing down from the sahara seemed to have a greater effect in this region. the sky was heavy and forboding, i glanced over at my cousins. they rolled thier eyes.
the travels had begun.
some official looking man hurried us out of the weather, the dry thick must, into a room with couches. the couches were low, and had big plush cushions. the AC was spilling down from the ceiling, invading the space. local men in elaborate chiefly looking outfits sat waiting to greet my uncle and aunt. the rest of us perched with our hands in our laps, smiling, not sure what exactly it was we were waiting for.
it was night.
suddenly everybody stood up and we all walked out. i had checked my mind with the airport luggage, it seemed. i was just another sheep in the flock. for the next 8 days i wouldn't have to think. everything would be taken care of, whether i liked it or not.
i chose to like it.
"we're going to drive over and check into our hotel, and then go to a friend's house for dinner." my uncle had a sneaky grin, the grin i imagine when my mother tells me her childhood stories. the grin he must of had as he scared them with his pet snakes, or spit through the shutters of their bedroom door. "it's going to be over the top." he said. "just prepare yourself, it's really something here."
then he walked away.
i knew each house we would be visiting, all the people we would be meeting, were high ranking cameroonians, whether in government, village, or military. but i had a hard time keeping up with the titles, the labels, so my mind blocked them all out.
the man's house we were going to for dinner, i was told, was very important. that is all i remember.
i was also told he has 4 wives, one of them is chinese.
the drivers took care of our details, handing us room keys, our correct baggage (which i hadn't seen since we boarded the plane), telling us when to be back.
"thank you" we all said, hurrying off to prepare before we left.
i was staying with torri and yanni and someone i hadn't yet met, who went by the name of Coby. yanni was very protective of Coby, garaunteeing me he was to provide us with long nights filled with good times. she had a strong connection with Coby and needed daily interaction with him.
then she opened up her bag. "here he is!" she announced, cradeling a medium sized silver dvd player. "so what do we want to watch? we have Friends, Desperate Housewives, The OC, Grey's Anatomy..."
i stared at Coby.
i hadn't watched t.v. in years. 8, to be exact.
i kept staring at Coby.
my uncle was right, this was going to be over the top.
"well," i said "not Friends, and i haven't heard of the others, so you guys pick."
we plugged in and started with the first episode of Desperate Housewives. when it was through, we heard a knock on our door.
"time to go."
we shuffled out of the AC bungalow, into the car, which was also cool as an icebox.
when we arrived at Mr. Important #1's House, we got out. he was out in his yard, arms spread wide, tall and sturdy as a redwood, bright eyes and smiling. he was gorgeous. he shook all our hands and laughed spoke in french. our group glanced around his yard, which was nice, a bit odd. it was mostly the gazelle i thought were strange.
"i've only ever seen them in the wild" i said "on safari."
the gazelle made everyone stare quite a bit, they were huddled in groups, staying far from the people, close to the bouganvillea plants growing up the large wall.
then my aunt commented on the size of the satelitte dish.
it was large.
it could have had sails added and been taken out to sea. odd shape for a boat, but enough to fit a good sized crew.
all conversation taking place was in french, unless it was internal or within our group. but not many of us were speaking, we just had our mouths gaping open, staring all around.
Mr. Important's wife pranced out of the house, his fourth wife, his chinese wife. she ran down and shook our hands and told us to follow her. she had a wide friendly face, and seemed very hospitable.
once we all made it inside, we sat. on one side of the large room, my uncle sat chatting and bonding with the men of the house. the rest of us sat on the right side, the side filled with snacks. the television seemed to split the room in two, the noise coming from it buffered us, divided the house into sections.
i became overly observant, returning again and again to the thick striped wall paper. it was both nauseating, and upper class. then i realized the television was all in mandarin chinese, and i recognized a few phrases here and there. i mustered up the strength to go wow the 4th wife with my limited knowledge of her language.
the only thing i could remember when i walked up to her was "please, can i have it a little cheaper."
she batted her eyelashes and shook her head. she didn't understand me.
i said it again. "please, can i have it a little cheaper?"
she stared at me, vacantly.
"i'm trying to speak mandarin." i said. "please, can i have it a littel cheaper?"
she broke out in giggles and bent forward, heaving from the humor.
"ahhh, pien e dien hau mau? ahhh ahh i see i see! oh my chinese sister!" she said, over and over.
from that point on, i became her chinese sister. when we sat down to eat, so many of us we divided into two tables, she needed help serving. "my chinese sister will help me." she said, calling me over. i (and all the servants) ladled out the strangest looking food, not sure if it was cameroonian or asian, or a mix. i also ladled out a little more of my poor mandarin, and kept my new friend in stitches all night. the meal was yes, over the top. it never seemed to end.
silver platter after silver platter.
she grabbed me and took me to the side. "my chinese sister" she said. "i don't speak english much, i don't know it very well."
"you sound great to me."
uncontrollable little laughs, then severe eye contact. "my chinese sister. people say i am brave. i am brave for coming to live here, away from them. my chinese friends here say i am brave. there are four of them. but life is hard, very hard. here, people treat me like i am a couch or a chair." she motioned to all the furniture. "they treat me like i am a couch or a chair, as if i don't feel. they think my mind is not my own. but no, my mind is my own. to be a wife here is difficult. i am not a couch or a chair. you see? i will show these people. i can think for myself."
then it was time to serve dessert. she rounded the tables, making everyone feel comfortable, making everyone feel overly full. she'd dollop and pause and glance at me and wink.
i liked her spirit. her spunk, her fire.
i had a few pinch me moments.
where was i? why was i speaking mandarin in a house full of cameroonians with my family?
i felt i was having a strange afriasia dream, mixing all my lives into one.
it was confusing, bizarre, just the way i like it. and it was only the first night.
we were boarding a short flight, bringing us from the lusch tropical south of cameroon, to the dry dusty north. although the plane ride was only 2 hours, it was a world away.
"it's going to be very hot." my uncle said.
"make sure you bring your camera." my aunt said.
my cousins were being good sports, it was their spring break and when they'd rather be hanging out watching television or spending time with their friends, the next week and a half would be devoted to touring remote villages in the extreme north, with their principal, one of the friends.
i was thrilled they were coming. i like hanging out with teenagers, and i wanted to get to know the adult version of the kids that i once knew.
we stepped off the plane into a thick black haze.
"the harmattan." my uncle said.
i explained what that meant to one of our newcomer friends, who had never been to africa before.
but even though i had seen the harmattan in ghana, the winds blowing down from the sahara seemed to have a greater effect in this region. the sky was heavy and forboding, i glanced over at my cousins. they rolled thier eyes.
the travels had begun.
some official looking man hurried us out of the weather, the dry thick must, into a room with couches. the couches were low, and had big plush cushions. the AC was spilling down from the ceiling, invading the space. local men in elaborate chiefly looking outfits sat waiting to greet my uncle and aunt. the rest of us perched with our hands in our laps, smiling, not sure what exactly it was we were waiting for.
it was night.
suddenly everybody stood up and we all walked out. i had checked my mind with the airport luggage, it seemed. i was just another sheep in the flock. for the next 8 days i wouldn't have to think. everything would be taken care of, whether i liked it or not.
i chose to like it.
"we're going to drive over and check into our hotel, and then go to a friend's house for dinner." my uncle had a sneaky grin, the grin i imagine when my mother tells me her childhood stories. the grin he must of had as he scared them with his pet snakes, or spit through the shutters of their bedroom door. "it's going to be over the top." he said. "just prepare yourself, it's really something here."
then he walked away.
i knew each house we would be visiting, all the people we would be meeting, were high ranking cameroonians, whether in government, village, or military. but i had a hard time keeping up with the titles, the labels, so my mind blocked them all out.
the man's house we were going to for dinner, i was told, was very important. that is all i remember.
i was also told he has 4 wives, one of them is chinese.
the drivers took care of our details, handing us room keys, our correct baggage (which i hadn't seen since we boarded the plane), telling us when to be back.
"thank you" we all said, hurrying off to prepare before we left.
i was staying with torri and yanni and someone i hadn't yet met, who went by the name of Coby. yanni was very protective of Coby, garaunteeing me he was to provide us with long nights filled with good times. she had a strong connection with Coby and needed daily interaction with him.
then she opened up her bag. "here he is!" she announced, cradeling a medium sized silver dvd player. "so what do we want to watch? we have Friends, Desperate Housewives, The OC, Grey's Anatomy..."
i stared at Coby.
i hadn't watched t.v. in years. 8, to be exact.
i kept staring at Coby.
my uncle was right, this was going to be over the top.
"well," i said "not Friends, and i haven't heard of the others, so you guys pick."
we plugged in and started with the first episode of Desperate Housewives. when it was through, we heard a knock on our door.
"time to go."
we shuffled out of the AC bungalow, into the car, which was also cool as an icebox.
when we arrived at Mr. Important #1's House, we got out. he was out in his yard, arms spread wide, tall and sturdy as a redwood, bright eyes and smiling. he was gorgeous. he shook all our hands and laughed spoke in french. our group glanced around his yard, which was nice, a bit odd. it was mostly the gazelle i thought were strange.
"i've only ever seen them in the wild" i said "on safari."
the gazelle made everyone stare quite a bit, they were huddled in groups, staying far from the people, close to the bouganvillea plants growing up the large wall.
then my aunt commented on the size of the satelitte dish.
it was large.
it could have had sails added and been taken out to sea. odd shape for a boat, but enough to fit a good sized crew.
all conversation taking place was in french, unless it was internal or within our group. but not many of us were speaking, we just had our mouths gaping open, staring all around.
Mr. Important's wife pranced out of the house, his fourth wife, his chinese wife. she ran down and shook our hands and told us to follow her. she had a wide friendly face, and seemed very hospitable.
once we all made it inside, we sat. on one side of the large room, my uncle sat chatting and bonding with the men of the house. the rest of us sat on the right side, the side filled with snacks. the television seemed to split the room in two, the noise coming from it buffered us, divided the house into sections.
i became overly observant, returning again and again to the thick striped wall paper. it was both nauseating, and upper class. then i realized the television was all in mandarin chinese, and i recognized a few phrases here and there. i mustered up the strength to go wow the 4th wife with my limited knowledge of her language.
the only thing i could remember when i walked up to her was "please, can i have it a little cheaper."
she batted her eyelashes and shook her head. she didn't understand me.
i said it again. "please, can i have it a little cheaper?"
she stared at me, vacantly.
"i'm trying to speak mandarin." i said. "please, can i have it a littel cheaper?"
she broke out in giggles and bent forward, heaving from the humor.
"ahhh, pien e dien hau mau? ahhh ahh i see i see! oh my chinese sister!" she said, over and over.
from that point on, i became her chinese sister. when we sat down to eat, so many of us we divided into two tables, she needed help serving. "my chinese sister will help me." she said, calling me over. i (and all the servants) ladled out the strangest looking food, not sure if it was cameroonian or asian, or a mix. i also ladled out a little more of my poor mandarin, and kept my new friend in stitches all night. the meal was yes, over the top. it never seemed to end.
silver platter after silver platter.
she grabbed me and took me to the side. "my chinese sister" she said. "i don't speak english much, i don't know it very well."
"you sound great to me."
uncontrollable little laughs, then severe eye contact. "my chinese sister. people say i am brave. i am brave for coming to live here, away from them. my chinese friends here say i am brave. there are four of them. but life is hard, very hard. here, people treat me like i am a couch or a chair." she motioned to all the furniture. "they treat me like i am a couch or a chair, as if i don't feel. they think my mind is not my own. but no, my mind is my own. to be a wife here is difficult. i am not a couch or a chair. you see? i will show these people. i can think for myself."
then it was time to serve dessert. she rounded the tables, making everyone feel comfortable, making everyone feel overly full. she'd dollop and pause and glance at me and wink.
i liked her spirit. her spunk, her fire.
i had a few pinch me moments.
where was i? why was i speaking mandarin in a house full of cameroonians with my family?
i felt i was having a strange afriasia dream, mixing all my lives into one.
it was confusing, bizarre, just the way i like it. and it was only the first night.
the big long cry
sofie, nanakwame and I have taken up a nightly routine of exercising together. Sometimes we do yoga, sometimes we run.
Nanakwame calls it “sofie training” and tells me to meet on the porch at 5:30 p.m. sharp, for sofie training. I think he’s more impressed with her physical fitness than mine, and at first I took offense. she’s more flexible and faster, she sets the pace for everything.
“I’dliketosay you’re tired kessy!” he yells at me while we’re running uphill.
“I’m not tired, I’m just slower.” I say, lagging 10 feet behind.
“ohhhhhh kess!!!” then he jogs back to keep me company. although, he doesn't LOOK like he's jogging, he looks like he's bouncing, peacefully on legs that wouldn't rather be doing anything else. they're loose and free. he makes it appear effortless.
“he’s a really good personal trainer.” Sofie says. “maybe we should pay him.”
And it’s true. He is. He floats along and keeps things positive, he makes me forget i’m working. If all three of us are twisted in some yoga position on the porch, he looks at us with raised eyebrows and says “is correct!”, meaning, you are doing well. he loves yoga, each position he is taught. He attempts the headstands with devoted fury, whether we are around or not.
The other day I walked over to his house, where he and Collins stay. I strolled up the pathway and saw him balancing himself upside down against the wall.
“sofie training!” I yelled.
He fell, then looked up.
“Kess! Kess!”
he ran down to me and gave me a sweaty hug. “oh kess… tonite, no trotting. I’m going to work, to mate. Ya? Is okay?”
“I’ll tell sofie.” I said. “we’ll go trotting without you.”
So I waited for sofie to come home, but the night was soon to be dark and she hadn’t arrived yet. I decided to go alone.
The first night we ran, I was so out of shape I was convinced I had gone through my entire life not realizing I was asmahtic.
“keep going, that’s normal.” Sofie the doctor said. “it’s always hard to breathe at the beginning of any cardiovascular workout.”
I took her word for it.
Now, the perserverance was paying off. It was getting easier. I could do this, I could get back in shape. I started to feel strong, like a Nike commercial. I looked down at my legs and saw power. I checked out my arms and noticed great potential. The road was beginning to decline and my speed was picking up. No taxis had passed which kept for clean fresh air, breathable air, air that fills your lungs and makes you want to go faster. So I did, I ran faster. I was sprinting and having a great time when all of a sudden, for no particular reason at all, my ankle rolled underneath me and I went skidding, palms down, across the gritty road. I let out a yelp, that sounded like a puppy getting ran over by a tractor. And then, when it was all over, I sat on the edge of the road, looked around and down, and cried.
No one was there, which I was thankful for. I stood up and hopped in circles, whining to myself, letting out little whimpers. My leg really hurt, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do just yet, so I let myself cry a little harder. A quick flash of the maternity ward popped in my mind. I sprained my ankle and it hurt bad, I was not looking forward to the pain of childbirth. I let the thought pass.
i saw a taxi in the distance, so i moved to the side and sat on a clump of dirt. i didn't ask him to stop, but one of the 6 people in the backseat must have paid special attention to my disheveled state, my powder red hair. after they had passed, the driver stopped, and reversed back to me.
"akua kessywa? ete sen?"
i stood up.
they were all looking me up and down and clucking their tongues.
"akua?" he said again, with more force.
"yes."
"what has happened to you?"
i couldn't answer, because if i did i was going to cry again. i didn't want to cry in front of all my village friends, the ones who slice fingers off with machetes and come to the clinic casually shrugging.
"akua?" he wasn't leaving until i spoke.
"i fell." i said, looking away from their eyes.
"you fell? sorry... are you feeling fine?"
i nodded, but i couldn't hold back. i sobbed into my shirt, an ugly sob, an embarrassed sob, a don't-stare-at-me-but-don't-leave-me-in-the-dark-just-yet sob.
my display of emotion had them all entranced, they weren't saying a thing. then the driver, who also happens to be secetry's brother, interuppted the silence... "okay i'll go and come. stay here. i'm coming!" then he sped off.
i sat for a minute or two, then decided i would start hobbeling home. dusk isn't the most ideal time to be sitting around in ghana, half-clothed. mosquitos prey.
i perfected my limp within a matter of minutes, but i still had a ways to go. i saw a man and a woman ahead, gathered around a big pile of palm nuts, chatting.
when i passed them they greeted me, i said hello, and kept walking.
"ai! my sister!" the woman cried out "why are you walking like that?"
i turned and told her i fell.
"ai! sssoooooorrryyy, sorrryyyy. are you okay?"
"yes" i said, and i started crying.
what was my problem? i just couldn't stop!
she ran over to me and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. she was well dressed, and spoke english nicely. she wiped my tears, and my face, and my legs and arms. "oh don't cry" she said, over and over.
i took a deep breath and said thank you.
"it's no problem, no problem at all. please, can you tell me why it is you are crying?" her look was bordering on terrified, so i assured her it was just a fall. i was okay.
"oh! you fell! i'm sorry..." then she wiped my face a little more. "you are akua kessywa, is it true?"
"yes, i am." i said, involuntary gasps for air escaping me.
"ohhhh... i'm tawa."
"it's nice to meet you."
"yes, likewise."
"sorry for scaring you, i don't know why i can't stop crying, all i did was fall, but it hurts, you know? do you have children?"
"yes, a son."
"okay, well i know you probably wouldn't cry like this if you fell, and actually, probably no one in boamadumase would, so i'm sorry, i know it seems a little odd. i'm a wimp, i guess."
she laughed and tugged at my arm. "here is the problem." she said. "you aren't solid like an african woman. we africans, we" then she flexed her arms in a 'i'm gonna beat you up' position.
"yeah- you're tough." i said.
"yes."
she called back to her friend, told him she was going to walk me home.
"we're too strong. it's true. my sister... where do you stay?"
"i live in the big house."
"ohhhh the big house, that's where you stay huh? i'm not from here, but i know the big house. do you know Tanko?"
"no- i've never been there before."
i wasn't at my sharpest.
"no Tanko, you're friend. Tanko. he says he has a white friend, her name is akua kessywa. thats you. don't you know Tanko?"
"ohhh tanko! yes, i know tanko."
"he's my brother. i'm here visiting him."
"ya, he's my friend."
we continued down the stretch talking about tanko, and soccer.
"he says you train with him, for football."
"i do."
"you are tough, you see? but today it looks like you were very unlucky." she held up her dirty handkercheif.
"okay." i said.
we reached my house and parted ways, then i negotiated myself up the stairway respecting collins a little more each part of the way.
when i got inside i laid down and elevated my foot. so much for ice.
sakola walked into the living room.
"akua?" he said.
"yes?"
"come." he walked into his room, so i stood up and followed him. i sat down on his plastic rug. my ankle began to throb and i couldn't translate what he was saying. he wanted an answer to what he was asking me, but i had no idea what it was. i started crying again.
"hey!" he yelled "hey! hey! hey!" then he ran over to me and bent down, an inch from my face. "why? why? you cry? why?"
"i hurt myself and i don't understand what you're saying!"
"huh?" he looked confused.
"i hurt myself. i fell. hurt? fell? boom down on the ground? see, you don't understand what i'm saying!" then i cried a little more.
"kess kess, stop. tell me. what?"
i told him in twi that i went running, then i showed him me falling to the floor. i didn't feel so bad crying in front of him, for two reasons.
one, he was practically family.
and
two, he crashed on his bike awhile back and came home to me tear stained, admitting to having cried, then asking to be cleaned and bandaged up.
"ohhhhh!!! wo hwe ase!!!" he ran over to the wall, grabbed it and slid down laughing. hysterically. "wo hwe ase!!!"
"no i fell!" i said, correcting his mistake.
"yes! you fell. wo hwe ase!" more laughter. he pointed at me and cracked up, "kess! ah ha ha kess!!!"
i started laughing. "it hurts!" i screamed.
"aha hhaa haa ha! kess fell! you went trotting, you fell?!"
"IT HURTS!" but i just kept laughing. he had never seen me cry before, and i was being really pathetic, so now all i could do was laugh about it.
we sat in his room and laughed and laughed. after some time, it crossed my mind that i had forgotten WHY and WHAT exactly we were laughing about.
then, he tried his village therapy on me, rubbing my leg vigoriously making it hurt even worse. but all i could do was laugh.
"here?" he said, pointing to the ball of swollen flesh that was now my foot. then he pressed down hard right where it was the most painful, and moved his hand up and down.
"OOOWWWW SAKO! THAT HURTS! HA HA!"
"trust me" he said, but i didn't at all. i recoiled and didn't let him near me the rest of the night. i was wondering if it was payback for all my "nursing" experiments i had pulled on him, for when i spoonfed him papaya seeds and raw aloe. when i double cleaned his wounds just because it made me feel good, like a make believe doctor, even though it was apparently painful for him.
i stayed in my bed that evening, with my foot up, reading. i was tired, but happy.
i was glad to be in a place where people cared for one another.
Nanakwame calls it “sofie training” and tells me to meet on the porch at 5:30 p.m. sharp, for sofie training. I think he’s more impressed with her physical fitness than mine, and at first I took offense. she’s more flexible and faster, she sets the pace for everything.
“I’dliketosay you’re tired kessy!” he yells at me while we’re running uphill.
“I’m not tired, I’m just slower.” I say, lagging 10 feet behind.
“ohhhhhh kess!!!” then he jogs back to keep me company. although, he doesn't LOOK like he's jogging, he looks like he's bouncing, peacefully on legs that wouldn't rather be doing anything else. they're loose and free. he makes it appear effortless.
“he’s a really good personal trainer.” Sofie says. “maybe we should pay him.”
And it’s true. He is. He floats along and keeps things positive, he makes me forget i’m working. If all three of us are twisted in some yoga position on the porch, he looks at us with raised eyebrows and says “is correct!”, meaning, you are doing well. he loves yoga, each position he is taught. He attempts the headstands with devoted fury, whether we are around or not.
The other day I walked over to his house, where he and Collins stay. I strolled up the pathway and saw him balancing himself upside down against the wall.
“sofie training!” I yelled.
He fell, then looked up.
“Kess! Kess!”
he ran down to me and gave me a sweaty hug. “oh kess… tonite, no trotting. I’m going to work, to mate. Ya? Is okay?”
“I’ll tell sofie.” I said. “we’ll go trotting without you.”
So I waited for sofie to come home, but the night was soon to be dark and she hadn’t arrived yet. I decided to go alone.
The first night we ran, I was so out of shape I was convinced I had gone through my entire life not realizing I was asmahtic.
“keep going, that’s normal.” Sofie the doctor said. “it’s always hard to breathe at the beginning of any cardiovascular workout.”
I took her word for it.
Now, the perserverance was paying off. It was getting easier. I could do this, I could get back in shape. I started to feel strong, like a Nike commercial. I looked down at my legs and saw power. I checked out my arms and noticed great potential. The road was beginning to decline and my speed was picking up. No taxis had passed which kept for clean fresh air, breathable air, air that fills your lungs and makes you want to go faster. So I did, I ran faster. I was sprinting and having a great time when all of a sudden, for no particular reason at all, my ankle rolled underneath me and I went skidding, palms down, across the gritty road. I let out a yelp, that sounded like a puppy getting ran over by a tractor. And then, when it was all over, I sat on the edge of the road, looked around and down, and cried.
No one was there, which I was thankful for. I stood up and hopped in circles, whining to myself, letting out little whimpers. My leg really hurt, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do just yet, so I let myself cry a little harder. A quick flash of the maternity ward popped in my mind. I sprained my ankle and it hurt bad, I was not looking forward to the pain of childbirth. I let the thought pass.
i saw a taxi in the distance, so i moved to the side and sat on a clump of dirt. i didn't ask him to stop, but one of the 6 people in the backseat must have paid special attention to my disheveled state, my powder red hair. after they had passed, the driver stopped, and reversed back to me.
"akua kessywa? ete sen?"
i stood up.
they were all looking me up and down and clucking their tongues.
"akua?" he said again, with more force.
"yes."
"what has happened to you?"
i couldn't answer, because if i did i was going to cry again. i didn't want to cry in front of all my village friends, the ones who slice fingers off with machetes and come to the clinic casually shrugging.
"akua?" he wasn't leaving until i spoke.
"i fell." i said, looking away from their eyes.
"you fell? sorry... are you feeling fine?"
i nodded, but i couldn't hold back. i sobbed into my shirt, an ugly sob, an embarrassed sob, a don't-stare-at-me-but-don't-leave-me-in-the-dark-just-yet sob.
my display of emotion had them all entranced, they weren't saying a thing. then the driver, who also happens to be secetry's brother, interuppted the silence... "okay i'll go and come. stay here. i'm coming!" then he sped off.
i sat for a minute or two, then decided i would start hobbeling home. dusk isn't the most ideal time to be sitting around in ghana, half-clothed. mosquitos prey.
i perfected my limp within a matter of minutes, but i still had a ways to go. i saw a man and a woman ahead, gathered around a big pile of palm nuts, chatting.
when i passed them they greeted me, i said hello, and kept walking.
"ai! my sister!" the woman cried out "why are you walking like that?"
i turned and told her i fell.
"ai! sssoooooorrryyy, sorrryyyy. are you okay?"
"yes" i said, and i started crying.
what was my problem? i just couldn't stop!
she ran over to me and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. she was well dressed, and spoke english nicely. she wiped my tears, and my face, and my legs and arms. "oh don't cry" she said, over and over.
i took a deep breath and said thank you.
"it's no problem, no problem at all. please, can you tell me why it is you are crying?" her look was bordering on terrified, so i assured her it was just a fall. i was okay.
"oh! you fell! i'm sorry..." then she wiped my face a little more. "you are akua kessywa, is it true?"
"yes, i am." i said, involuntary gasps for air escaping me.
"ohhhh... i'm tawa."
"it's nice to meet you."
"yes, likewise."
"sorry for scaring you, i don't know why i can't stop crying, all i did was fall, but it hurts, you know? do you have children?"
"yes, a son."
"okay, well i know you probably wouldn't cry like this if you fell, and actually, probably no one in boamadumase would, so i'm sorry, i know it seems a little odd. i'm a wimp, i guess."
she laughed and tugged at my arm. "here is the problem." she said. "you aren't solid like an african woman. we africans, we" then she flexed her arms in a 'i'm gonna beat you up' position.
"yeah- you're tough." i said.
"yes."
she called back to her friend, told him she was going to walk me home.
"we're too strong. it's true. my sister... where do you stay?"
"i live in the big house."
"ohhhh the big house, that's where you stay huh? i'm not from here, but i know the big house. do you know Tanko?"
"no- i've never been there before."
i wasn't at my sharpest.
"no Tanko, you're friend. Tanko. he says he has a white friend, her name is akua kessywa. thats you. don't you know Tanko?"
"ohhh tanko! yes, i know tanko."
"he's my brother. i'm here visiting him."
"ya, he's my friend."
we continued down the stretch talking about tanko, and soccer.
"he says you train with him, for football."
"i do."
"you are tough, you see? but today it looks like you were very unlucky." she held up her dirty handkercheif.
"okay." i said.
we reached my house and parted ways, then i negotiated myself up the stairway respecting collins a little more each part of the way.
when i got inside i laid down and elevated my foot. so much for ice.
sakola walked into the living room.
"akua?" he said.
"yes?"
"come." he walked into his room, so i stood up and followed him. i sat down on his plastic rug. my ankle began to throb and i couldn't translate what he was saying. he wanted an answer to what he was asking me, but i had no idea what it was. i started crying again.
"hey!" he yelled "hey! hey! hey!" then he ran over to me and bent down, an inch from my face. "why? why? you cry? why?"
"i hurt myself and i don't understand what you're saying!"
"huh?" he looked confused.
"i hurt myself. i fell. hurt? fell? boom down on the ground? see, you don't understand what i'm saying!" then i cried a little more.
"kess kess, stop. tell me. what?"
i told him in twi that i went running, then i showed him me falling to the floor. i didn't feel so bad crying in front of him, for two reasons.
one, he was practically family.
and
two, he crashed on his bike awhile back and came home to me tear stained, admitting to having cried, then asking to be cleaned and bandaged up.
"ohhhhh!!! wo hwe ase!!!" he ran over to the wall, grabbed it and slid down laughing. hysterically. "wo hwe ase!!!"
"no i fell!" i said, correcting his mistake.
"yes! you fell. wo hwe ase!" more laughter. he pointed at me and cracked up, "kess! ah ha ha kess!!!"
i started laughing. "it hurts!" i screamed.
"aha hhaa haa ha! kess fell! you went trotting, you fell?!"
"IT HURTS!" but i just kept laughing. he had never seen me cry before, and i was being really pathetic, so now all i could do was laugh about it.
we sat in his room and laughed and laughed. after some time, it crossed my mind that i had forgotten WHY and WHAT exactly we were laughing about.
then, he tried his village therapy on me, rubbing my leg vigoriously making it hurt even worse. but all i could do was laugh.
"here?" he said, pointing to the ball of swollen flesh that was now my foot. then he pressed down hard right where it was the most painful, and moved his hand up and down.
"OOOWWWW SAKO! THAT HURTS! HA HA!"
"trust me" he said, but i didn't at all. i recoiled and didn't let him near me the rest of the night. i was wondering if it was payback for all my "nursing" experiments i had pulled on him, for when i spoonfed him papaya seeds and raw aloe. when i double cleaned his wounds just because it made me feel good, like a make believe doctor, even though it was apparently painful for him.
i stayed in my bed that evening, with my foot up, reading. i was tired, but happy.
i was glad to be in a place where people cared for one another.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
i'm armed, with a gift and a needle!
i returned to the village, from cameroon, on a friday. it was nice to be back.
fridays. the day the village heart beats strong, pumping it through another sleepy week, feeding it through another hungry week, allowing for a little madness and an open door to stay and dance before it all dies down.
this friday also happened to be the baby clinic, when the health center floods with rolls of pudgey month old fat, gurgling and spitting and screaming from injections.
i couldn't have picked a better day to arrive, and... experience had me prepared.
'kessy!' people said when i arrived 'wakwaaba kessy, how was cameroon?'
'cameroon was wonderful.' i replied. and i meant it the way kingsley refers. full of wonder.
'oh that is fine, fine. and your family? how is your family?'
'my family is doing just fine, thank you.'
'oh that is good, good. and...'
the question i was waiting for, the question history had taught me to expect...
"what did you get me from cameroon?"
judi had sent me away, boarded me onto the plane with a bag full of presents, had stuffed them into my bags the very last second she could. "take these to your friends in the village" and i gladly accepted. i needed something to combat the onslaught of requests with.
i came to cameroon with one backpack, and left with two- both stuffed.
bag one: my things.
bag two: other people's things.
but before i left the house to go to work i scrambled through my unpacking and realized i had forgotten Ma. how had i forgotten Ma?
i looked at a few of the dresses that i might not ever wear outside of Africa. they were good looking, and easily disposable, but they were small. and Ma is not small. i sifted through my other belongings, most of which didn't suit her character.
just as i began to fret sofie came to my rescue with a bead necklace from Hand in Hand.
"do you mind?" i asked, relieved.
"no, not at all. take it."
if anyone understood, it was sofie. she is just becoming aquainted with this peculiar practice. "it's really fucking annoying." she says. "and they do it all the time!"
but i was quite excited for what was about to come, because i had my bag full of goodies, along with Ma's "cameroonian" bead necklace, and i was ready to GIVE!
the first coworkers i saw were Efreeyeh and Secetry, standing together outside the dispensary.
"GOOD MORNING!" i yelled, and they both turned to look.
"Kecieeeeeeee!" secetry screamed, laughing and bending down towards the ground in an emotional bounce. "wakwaaba!"
and the typical greeting followed, along with the questions, and then...
i interuppted. "wait! no- no- before you say anything else, i have something for you both. okay are you ready?" i was tempted to play a childish gift giving game and make them guess what i was about to adorn them with. "okay..." i said, searching through my bag.
i found the hat for efreeyeh and secetry's bracelet. if they didn't like them, too bad, i had carried them from cameroon with love in my heart, and that should be enough.
"okay this is for you secetry" handing him the grass woven bracelet, "and efreeyeh i brought you back... this!" i swung the hat around and stuck it on her head. she was laughing at me the entire time, the 'you are ridiculous but i love you anyway' laugh, and then she removed the hat.
"see the fabric sewn on the front?" i asked "that is the International Women's Day fabric. everyone in cameroon was wearing it on International Women's Day. i marched in a parade with that hat! you should feel honored to even put it on your head!" then i gave her a nice firm slap.
"okay" she said "it's nice. thank you."
the way she was looking at it, like a parent admiring their offspring's finger painting, proved she really did like it.
i think.
secetry couldn't get his bracelet on, but that didn't curb his enthusiasm... "oh kecciee, you brought me this from cameroon? oh i thank you. yes, yes, i thank you. ai!" he said, stressing the "too" "you are too nice." he was trying to squeeze it on past the wide part of his hand, but it wouldn't budge. "oh, i think it is too small. but, i thank you. ai! cameroonian girl!"
kingsley and watchman heard the jubilating and appeared from around the corner. "wakwaaba!" they both said, and then i handed them their gifts, jewelry the same as secetry's. "thank you thank you." they both said, genuinely touched.
4 down half a village to go.
i couldn't find vera, so i decided to enter Ma's space and devote some time to her. i know she'd want more than a quick good morning.
when i walked through the screen door and saw her sitting behind her desk i let out a long happy "GOOD MORNING MA!" to which she jumped out of her seat and ran out to hug me.
"ooohhhhh Kaisy!!!!!!! welcome welcome welcome. i've been missing you too much! oh kaisy!"
it was a short hug, very authentic, and rumpled, like the last minute in a dryer full of towels. but my favorite part was it ended in a million little kissy noises... something i found strange coming from her.
she's good at surprising me.
"oh kaissy sit down. sit down." then she retired to her spot. "how was cameroon?" "and your family?"
great. superb.
"oh that is nice" she said. "it is good you've come safely, by God's grace."
"yes, by God's grace."
i was looking her straight in the eyes, willing her to ask me what i brought for her.
she didn't pick up on any of my signals so i offered myself up. "well, i brought you a little something" then, a lie and an embellishment upon that lie "from cameroon. i went to the market and i was thinking of you, i thought, i wonder what i can get Ma? then i remembered you loved my beads like these, but you wanted them in black. they didn't have black so i got the closet shade, this blue. i hope you like them." i said handing them over, quickly tearing off the homemade price tag in Cedis, and feeling sneaky and proud of it.
"oh Kaisy. thank you. you remembered."
she held the beads like they were her first experience with a baby chick. "how do i put them on?" she asked.
"there is a clasp here" i pointed, realizing it would be too small for her to see. "you can undo it and wrap it once, like this... or twice like this!"
when i modeled she laughed. "oh Kaisy.. i was missing you."
"i missed you too." i said. then i added "it looks like they're setting up for the baby clinic today?"
"oh yes. yes."
"okay, then i'll be outside most of the day, helping them with that. okay?"
"oh no problem at all. feel free." she said.
************************
a very heavy downpour had happened in the early morning, enough to leave ant-sized lakes resting in the center of each leaf balancing above our heads. each time the wind blew, a mother or a baby or a health worker or i would get a momentary jolt along with a 2 second shower.
there wasn't any where else for the clinic to take place, and attendance was going to be high. the benches were already full. so we stayed put.
"let's begin, shall we?" the head of the baby clinic asked. he's the man, about my age, who seems like he'll do a lot for ghana. "can you do the opening prayer for us?" he asked, turning to me.
"sure," i glanced around. soley village women. "but i can only do a small part of it in twi. i like to talk to god in english, he gets me more."
"ha ah, oh okay, go right ahead, however you please."
"okay. then. let's pray. Yedaase Onyame for gathering us here, hyira obiaa, ne let us bless you also. amen."
"AMEN!"
when i was through with the prayer i felt a surge rush through me. a surge of power and confidance. a surge of boldness.
i looked around.
i saw plenty of babies, waiting to be vaccinated, and i knew at that moment who was going to do it.
i was ready. i was ready to stick people with needles, and feel strong about it.
i had spent a few hours in the airport with a needle and syringe, practicing mock situations, shooting my backpack up with imaginary medicine. "somebody needs to help this woman quick! does anyone know how to inject?" i'd plunge it in to the bottom heavy part of my bag, the part that felt most like a butt cheek. "he's here for his yellow fever vaccination. Ms. Mutscheller, can you take care of this please?" i'd pierce my strap at a 45 degree angle, pleased with my placement and efficiency.
i can do this, i decided. and i threw the needle away.
now i was sitting on a small wooden stool, staring out at all my victims. but first, i had to ask.
"um" i said, already not sounding very convincing "so whose going to be giving the vaccinations today?" i asked my friend.
"why do you ask?" he said, smiling devilishly.
"because i want to do them."
"then you can do them, it's no problem at all."
"or maybe not "them", maybe just "one". okay?"
"yes, no problem."
"really? but i've never done one before." i could have added, on a real human being.
"it's simple. you can watch me then take it from there."
"okay, sounds good."
the babies were waiting, happy and oblivious. "actually" i said "i'll just do the first one. i can do it. i've practiced a lot."
the way i had turned this into the event of the century was making my friend laugh. i was nervous, and kept going back on my original decision. like trying to call a crush.
but when kofi oburoni was the first baby to appear, i was certain i was going to do it. i care for him, and feel very close to him. why not administer his health care too?
"he's getting darker" i told his mother, "and he's growing, look at him!" two weeks gone and he was plumpening up. then i lifted up his shirt to see if his breasts had dissappeared. he had developed miniature boobies, hard and round, like a baby pamela anderson. when i first saw them i silently freaked out. then i brought him to Maame Vic. she and sofie explained this was a normal condition, it would dissapear, but that yes, they were startling.
"oh good, no more boobies." that was definately not professional.
Sister Yaa laughed and looked at me confidantly. i had helped her in the delivery room, i'm certain she had no idea this was my first time injecting somebody. being aruond her made me feel confident, so i took the needle and slid it into her baby's thigh, then pulled it back out.
just how i imagined. like an unripe mango.
i dabbed the area with a white cotton ball, the way a professional would do it, except they don't write chapters recounting what they would consider mundane details.
kofi oburoni let out a huge scream, that wiggled out and, then up, flying away into the sky. it was so loud i could see it and had to clear the area with my hand like it was a bad smell.
"how was that? that was my first shot! i did my first shot!" a little high from the experience.
"you've done well. you've done well." my friend said. "you can go write it in your diary now!" he said, joking, but propheticallly.
"advice?"
"yes. next time, try to do it a little faster. it will be less painful for the child."
"okay. got it. NEXT!"
the babies came, and i shot. it was a day of breaking through my fears, and i felt great. more than great. i had to tell everyone.
i ran into Ma's office, where she and Efreeyeh were soaking in plastic from the chairs.
"Ma! guess what! and Efreeyeh, ha. you'll never believe it." my fervor startled them into opening their eyes full moon. "I AM OFFICIALLY, NO LONGER, AFRAID OF INJECTING! march 15th, 2007. write it down because i know how to give shots!!!"
then i jumped all around the office and wiggled my butt. "oh ya oh ya"
"somebody get me a needle, i'm going to shoot your leg Efreeyeh, so you can experience my experience! oh ya oh ya!"
she pulled away from me and told me good job. Ma shook my hand. "oh kaisy! you have done well! by all means you will deliver the next baby. you can take the next case. you are ready."
i liked the jump from a simple shot to being a midwife.
i ran out over to Maame Vic's office. "nice work" she said "it's difficult. the first time vera went to give an injection i told her to "BE BOLD" because she was fearing."
"you had to tell vera to be bold?"
"YES!" she said.
i ran over to the dispensary with my announcement and vera laughed. then i retorted "you're only laughing because you know how it feels to ffeeaar the innjeection. you know how good it feels to bring the boldness! huh? huh! Maame Vic told me, don't try to act sly. you had to bring the boldness too!"
"ha ha, you brought everybody else presents from cameroon and nothing for me?" was her response.
i opened my bag and threw her a hat. "women's day." i said "hope you like it!"
then we slapped hands and i went back out to the babies. a lady came into Ma for a depo injection.
who'ya gonna call?
KACeJectors!
i was summoned, so i went in and stabbed her arm, quickly, then went back out.
by the time the day was through i was completely needle happy. i practically went for myself. when i went to bed that night i couldn't stop imagining the sensation, of pointy point meeting solidness, or the surprise look on all my friend's faces when i gave them their gift before they had a chance to ask.
i really was learning things.
it made me grit my teeth, and smile.
fridays. the day the village heart beats strong, pumping it through another sleepy week, feeding it through another hungry week, allowing for a little madness and an open door to stay and dance before it all dies down.
this friday also happened to be the baby clinic, when the health center floods with rolls of pudgey month old fat, gurgling and spitting and screaming from injections.
i couldn't have picked a better day to arrive, and... experience had me prepared.
'kessy!' people said when i arrived 'wakwaaba kessy, how was cameroon?'
'cameroon was wonderful.' i replied. and i meant it the way kingsley refers. full of wonder.
'oh that is fine, fine. and your family? how is your family?'
'my family is doing just fine, thank you.'
'oh that is good, good. and...'
the question i was waiting for, the question history had taught me to expect...
"what did you get me from cameroon?"
judi had sent me away, boarded me onto the plane with a bag full of presents, had stuffed them into my bags the very last second she could. "take these to your friends in the village" and i gladly accepted. i needed something to combat the onslaught of requests with.
i came to cameroon with one backpack, and left with two- both stuffed.
bag one: my things.
bag two: other people's things.
but before i left the house to go to work i scrambled through my unpacking and realized i had forgotten Ma. how had i forgotten Ma?
i looked at a few of the dresses that i might not ever wear outside of Africa. they were good looking, and easily disposable, but they were small. and Ma is not small. i sifted through my other belongings, most of which didn't suit her character.
just as i began to fret sofie came to my rescue with a bead necklace from Hand in Hand.
"do you mind?" i asked, relieved.
"no, not at all. take it."
if anyone understood, it was sofie. she is just becoming aquainted with this peculiar practice. "it's really fucking annoying." she says. "and they do it all the time!"
but i was quite excited for what was about to come, because i had my bag full of goodies, along with Ma's "cameroonian" bead necklace, and i was ready to GIVE!
the first coworkers i saw were Efreeyeh and Secetry, standing together outside the dispensary.
"GOOD MORNING!" i yelled, and they both turned to look.
"Kecieeeeeeee!" secetry screamed, laughing and bending down towards the ground in an emotional bounce. "wakwaaba!"
and the typical greeting followed, along with the questions, and then...
i interuppted. "wait! no- no- before you say anything else, i have something for you both. okay are you ready?" i was tempted to play a childish gift giving game and make them guess what i was about to adorn them with. "okay..." i said, searching through my bag.
i found the hat for efreeyeh and secetry's bracelet. if they didn't like them, too bad, i had carried them from cameroon with love in my heart, and that should be enough.
"okay this is for you secetry" handing him the grass woven bracelet, "and efreeyeh i brought you back... this!" i swung the hat around and stuck it on her head. she was laughing at me the entire time, the 'you are ridiculous but i love you anyway' laugh, and then she removed the hat.
"see the fabric sewn on the front?" i asked "that is the International Women's Day fabric. everyone in cameroon was wearing it on International Women's Day. i marched in a parade with that hat! you should feel honored to even put it on your head!" then i gave her a nice firm slap.
"okay" she said "it's nice. thank you."
the way she was looking at it, like a parent admiring their offspring's finger painting, proved she really did like it.
i think.
secetry couldn't get his bracelet on, but that didn't curb his enthusiasm... "oh kecciee, you brought me this from cameroon? oh i thank you. yes, yes, i thank you. ai!" he said, stressing the "too" "you are too nice." he was trying to squeeze it on past the wide part of his hand, but it wouldn't budge. "oh, i think it is too small. but, i thank you. ai! cameroonian girl!"
kingsley and watchman heard the jubilating and appeared from around the corner. "wakwaaba!" they both said, and then i handed them their gifts, jewelry the same as secetry's. "thank you thank you." they both said, genuinely touched.
4 down half a village to go.
i couldn't find vera, so i decided to enter Ma's space and devote some time to her. i know she'd want more than a quick good morning.
when i walked through the screen door and saw her sitting behind her desk i let out a long happy "GOOD MORNING MA!" to which she jumped out of her seat and ran out to hug me.
"ooohhhhh Kaisy!!!!!!! welcome welcome welcome. i've been missing you too much! oh kaisy!"
it was a short hug, very authentic, and rumpled, like the last minute in a dryer full of towels. but my favorite part was it ended in a million little kissy noises... something i found strange coming from her.
she's good at surprising me.
"oh kaissy sit down. sit down." then she retired to her spot. "how was cameroon?" "and your family?"
great. superb.
"oh that is nice" she said. "it is good you've come safely, by God's grace."
"yes, by God's grace."
i was looking her straight in the eyes, willing her to ask me what i brought for her.
she didn't pick up on any of my signals so i offered myself up. "well, i brought you a little something" then, a lie and an embellishment upon that lie "from cameroon. i went to the market and i was thinking of you, i thought, i wonder what i can get Ma? then i remembered you loved my beads like these, but you wanted them in black. they didn't have black so i got the closet shade, this blue. i hope you like them." i said handing them over, quickly tearing off the homemade price tag in Cedis, and feeling sneaky and proud of it.
"oh Kaisy. thank you. you remembered."
she held the beads like they were her first experience with a baby chick. "how do i put them on?" she asked.
"there is a clasp here" i pointed, realizing it would be too small for her to see. "you can undo it and wrap it once, like this... or twice like this!"
when i modeled she laughed. "oh Kaisy.. i was missing you."
"i missed you too." i said. then i added "it looks like they're setting up for the baby clinic today?"
"oh yes. yes."
"okay, then i'll be outside most of the day, helping them with that. okay?"
"oh no problem at all. feel free." she said.
************************
a very heavy downpour had happened in the early morning, enough to leave ant-sized lakes resting in the center of each leaf balancing above our heads. each time the wind blew, a mother or a baby or a health worker or i would get a momentary jolt along with a 2 second shower.
there wasn't any where else for the clinic to take place, and attendance was going to be high. the benches were already full. so we stayed put.
"let's begin, shall we?" the head of the baby clinic asked. he's the man, about my age, who seems like he'll do a lot for ghana. "can you do the opening prayer for us?" he asked, turning to me.
"sure," i glanced around. soley village women. "but i can only do a small part of it in twi. i like to talk to god in english, he gets me more."
"ha ah, oh okay, go right ahead, however you please."
"okay. then. let's pray. Yedaase Onyame for gathering us here, hyira obiaa, ne let us bless you also. amen."
"AMEN!"
when i was through with the prayer i felt a surge rush through me. a surge of power and confidance. a surge of boldness.
i looked around.
i saw plenty of babies, waiting to be vaccinated, and i knew at that moment who was going to do it.
i was ready. i was ready to stick people with needles, and feel strong about it.
i had spent a few hours in the airport with a needle and syringe, practicing mock situations, shooting my backpack up with imaginary medicine. "somebody needs to help this woman quick! does anyone know how to inject?" i'd plunge it in to the bottom heavy part of my bag, the part that felt most like a butt cheek. "he's here for his yellow fever vaccination. Ms. Mutscheller, can you take care of this please?" i'd pierce my strap at a 45 degree angle, pleased with my placement and efficiency.
i can do this, i decided. and i threw the needle away.
now i was sitting on a small wooden stool, staring out at all my victims. but first, i had to ask.
"um" i said, already not sounding very convincing "so whose going to be giving the vaccinations today?" i asked my friend.
"why do you ask?" he said, smiling devilishly.
"because i want to do them."
"then you can do them, it's no problem at all."
"or maybe not "them", maybe just "one". okay?"
"yes, no problem."
"really? but i've never done one before." i could have added, on a real human being.
"it's simple. you can watch me then take it from there."
"okay, sounds good."
the babies were waiting, happy and oblivious. "actually" i said "i'll just do the first one. i can do it. i've practiced a lot."
the way i had turned this into the event of the century was making my friend laugh. i was nervous, and kept going back on my original decision. like trying to call a crush.
but when kofi oburoni was the first baby to appear, i was certain i was going to do it. i care for him, and feel very close to him. why not administer his health care too?
"he's getting darker" i told his mother, "and he's growing, look at him!" two weeks gone and he was plumpening up. then i lifted up his shirt to see if his breasts had dissappeared. he had developed miniature boobies, hard and round, like a baby pamela anderson. when i first saw them i silently freaked out. then i brought him to Maame Vic. she and sofie explained this was a normal condition, it would dissapear, but that yes, they were startling.
"oh good, no more boobies." that was definately not professional.
Sister Yaa laughed and looked at me confidantly. i had helped her in the delivery room, i'm certain she had no idea this was my first time injecting somebody. being aruond her made me feel confident, so i took the needle and slid it into her baby's thigh, then pulled it back out.
just how i imagined. like an unripe mango.
i dabbed the area with a white cotton ball, the way a professional would do it, except they don't write chapters recounting what they would consider mundane details.
kofi oburoni let out a huge scream, that wiggled out and, then up, flying away into the sky. it was so loud i could see it and had to clear the area with my hand like it was a bad smell.
"how was that? that was my first shot! i did my first shot!" a little high from the experience.
"you've done well. you've done well." my friend said. "you can go write it in your diary now!" he said, joking, but propheticallly.
"advice?"
"yes. next time, try to do it a little faster. it will be less painful for the child."
"okay. got it. NEXT!"
the babies came, and i shot. it was a day of breaking through my fears, and i felt great. more than great. i had to tell everyone.
i ran into Ma's office, where she and Efreeyeh were soaking in plastic from the chairs.
"Ma! guess what! and Efreeyeh, ha. you'll never believe it." my fervor startled them into opening their eyes full moon. "I AM OFFICIALLY, NO LONGER, AFRAID OF INJECTING! march 15th, 2007. write it down because i know how to give shots!!!"
then i jumped all around the office and wiggled my butt. "oh ya oh ya"
"somebody get me a needle, i'm going to shoot your leg Efreeyeh, so you can experience my experience! oh ya oh ya!"
she pulled away from me and told me good job. Ma shook my hand. "oh kaisy! you have done well! by all means you will deliver the next baby. you can take the next case. you are ready."
i liked the jump from a simple shot to being a midwife.
i ran out over to Maame Vic's office. "nice work" she said "it's difficult. the first time vera went to give an injection i told her to "BE BOLD" because she was fearing."
"you had to tell vera to be bold?"
"YES!" she said.
i ran over to the dispensary with my announcement and vera laughed. then i retorted "you're only laughing because you know how it feels to ffeeaar the innjeection. you know how good it feels to bring the boldness! huh? huh! Maame Vic told me, don't try to act sly. you had to bring the boldness too!"
"ha ha, you brought everybody else presents from cameroon and nothing for me?" was her response.
i opened my bag and threw her a hat. "women's day." i said "hope you like it!"
then we slapped hands and i went back out to the babies. a lady came into Ma for a depo injection.
who'ya gonna call?
KACeJectors!
i was summoned, so i went in and stabbed her arm, quickly, then went back out.
by the time the day was through i was completely needle happy. i practically went for myself. when i went to bed that night i couldn't stop imagining the sensation, of pointy point meeting solidness, or the surprise look on all my friend's faces when i gave them their gift before they had a chance to ask.
i really was learning things.
it made me grit my teeth, and smile.
cameroon
cam tales will continue, whenever they emerge. the trip has passed and i am back in the village... so...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
abdijan airport
i had been sitting on the glassy waxed floor for over an hour, trying to figure out exactly what was going on with brittany spears. i was feeling sympathy for her. generally i don't take much interest, but my layover en route to cameroon was over 10 hours and i needed to occupy myself.
it was only the first hour.
the ground was chilling my thighs and the shop (duty free of course) had cranked up the AC to an unbearable level, unbearable after having grown accustomed to the skin-prickly heat that was just outside.
i reached for my backpack, stuck my hand down to the bottom, and tried to feel for my sarong. i pulled it out like a magic rabbit. this would keep me warm.
after i had finished bundling myself i noticed eyes on me. i looked around.
apparently it was okay for me to be sitting (although i didn't get the impression it was advisable) but wrapping myself up in a piece of cloth AND being on the floor was pushing it. my luck was shot.
the lady in the pressed blue slacks and snappy white blouse was making her way through the toblorone chocolate stand over to me. her heels were clinking and she was charged.
i wanted to scramble, to adjust, to make myself presentable. 'i should have worn my little black dress' i thought. 'people take me more seriously in my little black dress.'
i had read over 6 magazines and still had the middle and top shelf to go. this could keep me happy for at least another 3 hours, i didn't want to be ripped away from it.
i tried my hardest to close into a tight compact shell, and pull my neck in, like a turtle. i made no eye contact.
"Madame?" i heard from above.
i squeezed in tighter pretending not to hear, improving rolly polly.
she cleared her throat. "uh hu... MADAME!"
i turned slowly, unwrapping myself from my fabric shield, trying to look sweet. "yes?" i replied, smiling and batting my eyelashes.
"Madame, si vous plais... french french french french french french french. mm?"
i knew what she was saying, not through the words but because the situation was that obvious.
she didn't want stragglers sitting on her floor. but i was in a predicament, i was in the claws of a People magazine. anyone who has ever been in this type of scenario knows. it can be an airport clerk lady, your best friend, your daughter, your mother, or it can be your turn to check out groceries, but, when you've dove into the pages of a pointless magazine it can be quite hard to snap back. YOU DON'T WANT SOMEBODY TAKING IT AWAY FROM YOU.
it takes steps. and one of those steps was going to require me to finish looking at brittany's meltdown. i didn't care that the entire thing was in french, i could catch the gist through the procession of pictures.
i cocked my head to the side and squinted my eyes, trying to think of something to say, but not worrying too much certain our language barrier would afford me some extra time and excuses for the awkwardness.
"MADMAE!" she barked, then she walked away to retrieve an english speaker who had been watching from behind the perfume counter.
he had a very thick accent.
"meezeez, yoo must pay for zee mahgahzeen!" he informed, hand on hip. i wasn't used to the french speaking african accent, it was harsh.
i stood up.
"you must pay for ALL zee mahgahzeens!"
that was a lot.
"pay?" i said. "for ALL the magazines?"
"YEEZZ."
"but i haven't read any of them."
he had been periodically watching me from across the way, eager to address my embarrassing presence. the look he was now giving me was of incredibility. he thought i was lying because he had seen me enthralled, face deep for at least an hour.
but the fact of it was, i was telling the complete truth.
i hadn't actually READ the magazine.
his eyes forced me into confession.
"okay, okay. i haven't been reading them, but i have been looking at them. you see, they're all in french and i don't speak french, and i don't read it. i've been looking for an english magazine, you know, so that i CAN read it. i've only gotten to look at the pictures but..."
little did he know the pictures are the only point, although once in a blue moon there is an article worth reading.
"zen pay for zeez mahgahzine. zee one you are have here."
we all looked down at the evidence in my hand.
"how much?" i asked, sure i could bargain for it.
perfume man whipped out a calculator and concocted his price in CFA.
"i'm sorry" i said calmly, diplomatically "i don't know how much that is. do you know in dollars?"
"let me zee."
after a group effort and a few failed attempts, the conversion came out to 8 dollars.
"EIGHT dollars? for this?"
8 dollars. 80,000 cedis. 2 weeks food in the village.
"i'm sorry" i continued "i just can't pay 8 dollars for a people magazine. especially when there is a price right here for 3.50. but to tell you the truth, i can't even pay that. let's bargain."
the man was not pleased, so i figured i'd pay a little something. "okay fine fine, let's see what we can do here. you take cedis?"
they both burst out laughing. "zeedezz, from ghana? NO."
oh.
"well, i'm sorry for disturbing your shop but that is all i have. it'd probably be better if i just left, okay? i won't read anymore..." i was talking and packing up my homeless fort, crumpling up my sarong, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.
i reluctantly slid the magazine back into place.
the employees didn't move, instead they stood like well planted trees, but less friendly. they were on a noble mission, protecting their shop from people like me. riffraff. poor folks scavenging for entertainment during a half day layover. i could feel their pupils shooting laser red disapproval, i needed to get out of there.
"okay, thanks! or... i guess, sorry? sorry and thanks! au reviour!"
i skittered out and didn't turn back, convinced a fast pace would soon shed the dark sticky worthless feeling i had. my flesh was saturated with judgment.
it was not a good feeling, but it would soon disappear. it was temporary but not entirely foreign. i have spent a lot of time, on the road, getting kicked out of places or sneered down upon. sometimes, being a beatnik traveler, this happens. and sometimes it's fun. when you're with a friend.
i knew a radical transformation was about to occur once i boarded the plane, when i stepped off as the U.S. Ambassador's niece.
it was only the first hour.
the ground was chilling my thighs and the shop (duty free of course) had cranked up the AC to an unbearable level, unbearable after having grown accustomed to the skin-prickly heat that was just outside.
i reached for my backpack, stuck my hand down to the bottom, and tried to feel for my sarong. i pulled it out like a magic rabbit. this would keep me warm.
after i had finished bundling myself i noticed eyes on me. i looked around.
apparently it was okay for me to be sitting (although i didn't get the impression it was advisable) but wrapping myself up in a piece of cloth AND being on the floor was pushing it. my luck was shot.
the lady in the pressed blue slacks and snappy white blouse was making her way through the toblorone chocolate stand over to me. her heels were clinking and she was charged.
i wanted to scramble, to adjust, to make myself presentable. 'i should have worn my little black dress' i thought. 'people take me more seriously in my little black dress.'
i had read over 6 magazines and still had the middle and top shelf to go. this could keep me happy for at least another 3 hours, i didn't want to be ripped away from it.
i tried my hardest to close into a tight compact shell, and pull my neck in, like a turtle. i made no eye contact.
"Madame?" i heard from above.
i squeezed in tighter pretending not to hear, improving rolly polly.
she cleared her throat. "uh hu... MADAME!"
i turned slowly, unwrapping myself from my fabric shield, trying to look sweet. "yes?" i replied, smiling and batting my eyelashes.
"Madame, si vous plais... french french french french french french french. mm?"
i knew what she was saying, not through the words but because the situation was that obvious.
she didn't want stragglers sitting on her floor. but i was in a predicament, i was in the claws of a People magazine. anyone who has ever been in this type of scenario knows. it can be an airport clerk lady, your best friend, your daughter, your mother, or it can be your turn to check out groceries, but, when you've dove into the pages of a pointless magazine it can be quite hard to snap back. YOU DON'T WANT SOMEBODY TAKING IT AWAY FROM YOU.
it takes steps. and one of those steps was going to require me to finish looking at brittany's meltdown. i didn't care that the entire thing was in french, i could catch the gist through the procession of pictures.
i cocked my head to the side and squinted my eyes, trying to think of something to say, but not worrying too much certain our language barrier would afford me some extra time and excuses for the awkwardness.
"MADMAE!" she barked, then she walked away to retrieve an english speaker who had been watching from behind the perfume counter.
he had a very thick accent.
"meezeez, yoo must pay for zee mahgahzeen!" he informed, hand on hip. i wasn't used to the french speaking african accent, it was harsh.
i stood up.
"you must pay for ALL zee mahgahzeens!"
that was a lot.
"pay?" i said. "for ALL the magazines?"
"YEEZZ."
"but i haven't read any of them."
he had been periodically watching me from across the way, eager to address my embarrassing presence. the look he was now giving me was of incredibility. he thought i was lying because he had seen me enthralled, face deep for at least an hour.
but the fact of it was, i was telling the complete truth.
i hadn't actually READ the magazine.
his eyes forced me into confession.
"okay, okay. i haven't been reading them, but i have been looking at them. you see, they're all in french and i don't speak french, and i don't read it. i've been looking for an english magazine, you know, so that i CAN read it. i've only gotten to look at the pictures but..."
little did he know the pictures are the only point, although once in a blue moon there is an article worth reading.
"zen pay for zeez mahgahzine. zee one you are have here."
we all looked down at the evidence in my hand.
"how much?" i asked, sure i could bargain for it.
perfume man whipped out a calculator and concocted his price in CFA.
"i'm sorry" i said calmly, diplomatically "i don't know how much that is. do you know in dollars?"
"let me zee."
after a group effort and a few failed attempts, the conversion came out to 8 dollars.
"EIGHT dollars? for this?"
8 dollars. 80,000 cedis. 2 weeks food in the village.
"i'm sorry" i continued "i just can't pay 8 dollars for a people magazine. especially when there is a price right here for 3.50. but to tell you the truth, i can't even pay that. let's bargain."
the man was not pleased, so i figured i'd pay a little something. "okay fine fine, let's see what we can do here. you take cedis?"
they both burst out laughing. "zeedezz, from ghana? NO."
oh.
"well, i'm sorry for disturbing your shop but that is all i have. it'd probably be better if i just left, okay? i won't read anymore..." i was talking and packing up my homeless fort, crumpling up my sarong, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.
i reluctantly slid the magazine back into place.
the employees didn't move, instead they stood like well planted trees, but less friendly. they were on a noble mission, protecting their shop from people like me. riffraff. poor folks scavenging for entertainment during a half day layover. i could feel their pupils shooting laser red disapproval, i needed to get out of there.
"okay, thanks! or... i guess, sorry? sorry and thanks! au reviour!"
i skittered out and didn't turn back, convinced a fast pace would soon shed the dark sticky worthless feeling i had. my flesh was saturated with judgment.
it was not a good feeling, but it would soon disappear. it was temporary but not entirely foreign. i have spent a lot of time, on the road, getting kicked out of places or sneered down upon. sometimes, being a beatnik traveler, this happens. and sometimes it's fun. when you're with a friend.
i knew a radical transformation was about to occur once i boarded the plane, when i stepped off as the U.S. Ambassador's niece.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
cameroon- the house 2
"i'm just going to drive, we don't need to call the driver. i wanted to go on some errands. do you mind? i'm getting these hilarious outfits made of this blue faux snakeskin print i bought. faux snakeskin! you know how we love to dress up! it's going to be hilarious. it's going to be great. our family, and pam, jan, nancy and scott will all be wearing them while we travel. you'll love it..."
we were walking through the house, picking up things and plopping them in bags, getting ready to leave. judi was talking and thinking and preparing to leave. she was saying names of people i didn't even know, referencing them like they were my long lost friends.
i was following her taking in all the surroundings.
the house was large, but not in a disgusting way. it's presence didn't make you feel uncomfortable. they had picked loud vibrant art to hang on the walls, which helped, coupled with many of my grandmama's pieces, my favorite. her art is impressionistic, capturing people and places in their full juicyness, with lot's of color and even more emotion. the kind of painting that makes your heart throb, the kind that makes you want to jump in and wrap yourself up in her strokes.
i looked over at one of the walls, where i noticed a painting i hadn't paid much attention to before, in my youth. if i wasn't in the studio with my grandmama while they were being painted, then i only got to see these works when i saw my uncle. which wasn't often. it was a few feet high and a few feet wide and had my little sister and me on the right standing in different positions, me with my cousin torri propped up on my hip. she was just a baby and i was probably 10 years old. on the left side of the painting were torri's 2 older sisters, who at the time were close to being 4 and 7, with their looks captured perfectly. one was aloof, the other self-satisfied and delighted.
as i looked at the image i became very emotional. torri was on my hip, and i was looking at her with great love and care. i remember how much i loved my baby cousins. it was real. i've been drawn to this world my entire life, have loved pulling them into my world at any chance i can get. my history was painted in front of me and currently i was living out my dream. i really have the heart of a midwife.
seeing this made me want to cry. it made me feel more connected to God. it made me thankful for where i was at in life.
when i was done staring, i walked around the corner and found judi, head-in-fridge pulling out water bottles.
"... i thought it'd be fun! cameroonians love dressing in the same fabric, so i thought when we went to some of the big celebrations up north we could all do the same thing. the locals will get a kick out of it. anyway" (head and torso out of fridge) "we have to go pick up our dresses from the shop, which is in a muslim district, you might want to put a scarf over your shoulders. it's no big deal, but i try to dress conservative or at least make an attempt when i go there. the men appreciate it. then we can head over..."
the kitchen was bright, very bright. it had an alerting freshness, a few stoves, many knives clinging magnetically to the wall, shiny and able. the living room could host a gymnastics competition and the dining room table was as smooth and long as a bowling alley. well, not quite, but in normal home furnishing land that's what it would equate to.
upstairs we collected soccer clothes and running shoes.
"i keep getting lost!" i told judi.
"i know!" she cackled "isn't this house strange? it really is. the upstairs all looks the same. you walk out of a room and can't figure out which way to go. when my parents were here i had to tape balloons on their door! ha!"
it was true. very similar to a hotel hallway, there was nothing helping me distinguish door 1 from door 2, except for the magazine collages hanging on the outside. the girls had personalized their gateways. "Yanni's Room". She had a poster that said "they lie, they cheat... they're you're friends. the OC". I don't remember Torri's door.
the hallway jetted down separating the upstairs in two, ending in a cozy space at the top of the stairs, full of craft supplies and family pictures. clinging to the sides of the walls were signs of life, of family living. shoes in piles, stacks of books.
the top half of the house was low key. the bottom half was impressive. the top had framed pictures of children's art. the bottom had professional art.
"this is the family room." she opened the door, exposing an area that held a few couches, a few computers, a television, and cats. my aunt is always laughing. she laughs between breaths, between words, between thoughts. she told me the wacky cat names, none of which stuck but all of which made me love my family even more. "let's keep them in here though because Euphrasia, the maid, is allergic. but we can come in here tonite and watch American Idol. we're kind of obsessed! oh and Euphrasia, she's hilarious. we've got our little thing going on, you know what i mean. our girl thing, she gets it. she's weird, like us. you can joke with her. so-" she said, looking all around "i think i've got it all. are you ready to go play soccer?"
i was.
"great. let's go!"
we were walking through the house, picking up things and plopping them in bags, getting ready to leave. judi was talking and thinking and preparing to leave. she was saying names of people i didn't even know, referencing them like they were my long lost friends.
i was following her taking in all the surroundings.
the house was large, but not in a disgusting way. it's presence didn't make you feel uncomfortable. they had picked loud vibrant art to hang on the walls, which helped, coupled with many of my grandmama's pieces, my favorite. her art is impressionistic, capturing people and places in their full juicyness, with lot's of color and even more emotion. the kind of painting that makes your heart throb, the kind that makes you want to jump in and wrap yourself up in her strokes.
i looked over at one of the walls, where i noticed a painting i hadn't paid much attention to before, in my youth. if i wasn't in the studio with my grandmama while they were being painted, then i only got to see these works when i saw my uncle. which wasn't often. it was a few feet high and a few feet wide and had my little sister and me on the right standing in different positions, me with my cousin torri propped up on my hip. she was just a baby and i was probably 10 years old. on the left side of the painting were torri's 2 older sisters, who at the time were close to being 4 and 7, with their looks captured perfectly. one was aloof, the other self-satisfied and delighted.
as i looked at the image i became very emotional. torri was on my hip, and i was looking at her with great love and care. i remember how much i loved my baby cousins. it was real. i've been drawn to this world my entire life, have loved pulling them into my world at any chance i can get. my history was painted in front of me and currently i was living out my dream. i really have the heart of a midwife.
seeing this made me want to cry. it made me feel more connected to God. it made me thankful for where i was at in life.
when i was done staring, i walked around the corner and found judi, head-in-fridge pulling out water bottles.
"... i thought it'd be fun! cameroonians love dressing in the same fabric, so i thought when we went to some of the big celebrations up north we could all do the same thing. the locals will get a kick out of it. anyway" (head and torso out of fridge) "we have to go pick up our dresses from the shop, which is in a muslim district, you might want to put a scarf over your shoulders. it's no big deal, but i try to dress conservative or at least make an attempt when i go there. the men appreciate it. then we can head over..."
the kitchen was bright, very bright. it had an alerting freshness, a few stoves, many knives clinging magnetically to the wall, shiny and able. the living room could host a gymnastics competition and the dining room table was as smooth and long as a bowling alley. well, not quite, but in normal home furnishing land that's what it would equate to.
upstairs we collected soccer clothes and running shoes.
"i keep getting lost!" i told judi.
"i know!" she cackled "isn't this house strange? it really is. the upstairs all looks the same. you walk out of a room and can't figure out which way to go. when my parents were here i had to tape balloons on their door! ha!"
it was true. very similar to a hotel hallway, there was nothing helping me distinguish door 1 from door 2, except for the magazine collages hanging on the outside. the girls had personalized their gateways. "Yanni's Room". She had a poster that said "they lie, they cheat... they're you're friends. the OC". I don't remember Torri's door.
the hallway jetted down separating the upstairs in two, ending in a cozy space at the top of the stairs, full of craft supplies and family pictures. clinging to the sides of the walls were signs of life, of family living. shoes in piles, stacks of books.
the top half of the house was low key. the bottom half was impressive. the top had framed pictures of children's art. the bottom had professional art.
"this is the family room." she opened the door, exposing an area that held a few couches, a few computers, a television, and cats. my aunt is always laughing. she laughs between breaths, between words, between thoughts. she told me the wacky cat names, none of which stuck but all of which made me love my family even more. "let's keep them in here though because Euphrasia, the maid, is allergic. but we can come in here tonite and watch American Idol. we're kind of obsessed! oh and Euphrasia, she's hilarious. we've got our little thing going on, you know what i mean. our girl thing, she gets it. she's weird, like us. you can joke with her. so-" she said, looking all around "i think i've got it all. are you ready to go play soccer?"
i was.
"great. let's go!"
cameroon- the house
The most exciting thing that happened on the drive from Douala to Yaounde was the car in front of us hit a goat. And really, that wasn't exciting, it was sad. seeing an animal hit by a car is disturbing, and it takes a long time to shake the feeling.
life prancing in front of your eyes.
death sprawled out on the side of the road.
and you know who to blame the entire way, whether it was accidental or not, they're in front of you.
so yes, a goat lost his life, but, the surroundings were gorgeous. in fact, it was very similar to the region i'm in in ghana, big tall trees, rainforest trees, with vines growing up in all directions choking out their life, then hanging back down like long dangly earrings. green everywhere. blue on top. life breathing life.
i felt comfortable, except for one thing.
i was freezing cold.
"excuse me" i said from the back "do you think you can turn down the air? i'm feeling a little chilly." that was after i had put on a long hooded thermal.
"oh yes Madame, no problem at all."
and that was the extent of our communication during the hours spent together traveling as passenger and driver to my families house, besides an "uh oh... oh... ahhhh no!" when the goat failed his crossing. and a laugh communicating misfortune.
but i didn't mind not talking, and i wasn't too sure if he even spoke english. i was traveling through the french speaking region of cameroon, and would be the entire trip. i took out my imaginary case, put twi inside and told twi i would be coming back, then sealed it tight.
i won't forget about you. i promise. yebehyia.
i was slipping my feet out of dusty village sandals into sleek jeweled slippers.
but i wasn't going to feel out of place. all my family has a way of being both prestigious and incredibly down to earth. of appearing glamorous and easily approachable. they live their rich lifestyle in a proud 'i found it on sale' type of way, jumping into their big glassy shimmering pools in formal evening wear.
they aren't pretentious.
we pulled up to a black gate, two men in guard uniforms and guns strapped over their shoulders opened it for us, and we drove up to the house i had heard so much about. my aunt was standing outside, looking beautiful of course, waving.
i had finally made it.
before i had a chance to lean over and pull the handle, the door opened for me.
"thank you." i told the driver, then i jumped down and went over to my aunt.
she had her arms outstretched and was laughing out thrill, she's dramatic by nature. "ohh kacie!!!"
"judi!"
we gave a warm hug and then she began on the beginning of a series of a million and one stories, all of which were animated and told with the same amount of energy and urgency, smoothly transferring from one onto the next like an Olympic relay race. sort of like bob, but in a more settling sane way.
we cruised through their house, which was obviously more of a mansion, and she tried to orientate me. i dropped my bag off in my youngest cousin's room, who hasn't grown older than 3 years old in my time warp memory, but will soon be celebrating her 14th birthday. "she's almost 14?!" i could barely believe it, but i didn't dare say that to her later, that would make me into one of those weird relatives. the kind you don't see for a long time and can only stare and comment about how big you've gotten. the kind that i was about to be but pretend not to be. "then how old is Torri?"
"she's turning 16 on Saturday!" judi said. then she went on to tell me of a fabulous surprise birthday party they threw for her just a few days prior. "since we'll be on our family trip for her birthday, and she really wanted something special, i thought it'd be really fun to give her a little surprise. i mean, you know us kacie, i don't know what she was expecting, she knows she wasn't getting a car. imagine that!" then she imitated driving up in a beautiful convertible and waved over to the wall. "beep beep, hello!!!" we both laughed. "she knows we aren't like that, so instead i just woke up really early..." judi has a way of stretching out her words and making very dedicated eye contact during her stories so that the intensity knocks up a few notches and you're drawn in whether you were willing or not. i was willing. "... i woke up really early..."
and she moves her body like a dancer. her hands, her head, her shoulders are erect.
"... i woke up really early, and cooked all this special food for her, cake, chocolate mousse. uuummm, chocolate mousse, it was so fun! we'll have to eat that after lunch, there's still some left." she said, giggling and letting me in on her secret. "are you hungry?"
"very."
"good, because i planned bean tacos for you. i couldn't remember if you were still a vegetarian or what, so i figured bean tacos would be safe. the cooks have finished and the table is set so let's go do that, let's go eat bean tacos. then we can have the chocolate mousse, won't that be fun?!"
it sounded perfect to me.
when we were sitting at the table i asked "what's this?"
"oh it's The Buzzer." she said, overacting being official, clipping her big full lips together and perking up her eyebrows. "i still can't ring it without laughing. really. try it." she pushed it over in my direction. it was a small white rectangle chunk with a button on top.
"what would i say?"
"Francis will come out and ask you what you want. but we can do that later, for the dessert."
we sat and assembled tacos with all the beautiful ingredients splayed out on the table.
"i like to eat here, it's more intimate. so when it's just me and niels, or like this right now, me and you, i try to get them to set us up out here. it's just too creepy eating at that huge dining room table when it's not full, you know!?!"
"how often do you eat lunch with niels?"
"he tries to come home in the afternoon everyday."
i respect my uncle. he is a true family man. and i respect my aunt. they've raised a beautiful family.
i was onto my 4th taco. i couldn't control myself, it was all too good. i was trying not to apologize for my over appetite, i can't stand listening to woman apologizing for eating because i know what they are really apologizing for.
sorry for daring to appear unsexy, sorry for choosing myself over image, sorry for not being a "lady".
but when there were no more shells and i realized i had eaten more than my fare share i did squeak out a sorry. that was a sorry for being inconsiderate.
"oh keep eating! here-" she said, sliding The Buzzer over to me "we can get some more."
i pushed it and we both cracked up. my index finger had beckoned a servant and he was standing by my side in less than a minute with a silver tray and big willing eyes. i felt really weird. i hated it from an outside perspective, but as an insider it seemed okay for the moment. i couldn't over analyze it now, i had to eat more tacos.
"um, do you think we could get some more taco shells?"
"yes of course." he said, nodding and turning with the precision of a cadet.
when he came back judi asked for the bowl of mousse from the fridge. i believe there were more than 6 fridges, but he apparently knew which one she was talking about.
"yes Madame." he said.
"with 2 spoons also! and no bowls, just bring it in the big green bowl it's already in."
"Madame, no bowls?"
"no bowls. just spoons. thanks."
"yes Madame."
we chatted some more and my head began to spin from all the options. options of food, things to talk about, paintings to stare at, rooms to discover, ways to focus my mind. options of how to feel, being so rich in a world so poor.
Francis began to try and clear a space for the mousse, which looked delicious.
"oh it's okay francis, you can just put the bowl over on the table down there."
"yes Madame."
then he placed it on the low lying coffee table and looked at us like he was either making a huge mistake, or we were crazy.
"thanks" we said.
we walked over with our spoons in hand, sat down cross legged, and dug in. i could feel a double chin growing with each bite, and i embraced it, temporarily.
"so Yannika has a soccer game this afternoon at her school. it's parents versus students and i sort of signed you up as a competitor. i thought it'd be fun! i'll play too..."
i was exhausted and needed to sleep, but if i couldn't do that soccer was the next best thing.
"sure, that sounds like a lot of fun."
i noticed i still felt that strange feeling, the one i had in the airport with my uncle, the disorientation. almost as if i was watching a video of myself. the feeling of jet lag, or drugs. i wanted it to go away.
once i saw my cousins, played soccer, and took a nap, all would be fine. i was sure.
i was just glad to be with my family.
life prancing in front of your eyes.
death sprawled out on the side of the road.
and you know who to blame the entire way, whether it was accidental or not, they're in front of you.
so yes, a goat lost his life, but, the surroundings were gorgeous. in fact, it was very similar to the region i'm in in ghana, big tall trees, rainforest trees, with vines growing up in all directions choking out their life, then hanging back down like long dangly earrings. green everywhere. blue on top. life breathing life.
i felt comfortable, except for one thing.
i was freezing cold.
"excuse me" i said from the back "do you think you can turn down the air? i'm feeling a little chilly." that was after i had put on a long hooded thermal.
"oh yes Madame, no problem at all."
and that was the extent of our communication during the hours spent together traveling as passenger and driver to my families house, besides an "uh oh... oh... ahhhh no!" when the goat failed his crossing. and a laugh communicating misfortune.
but i didn't mind not talking, and i wasn't too sure if he even spoke english. i was traveling through the french speaking region of cameroon, and would be the entire trip. i took out my imaginary case, put twi inside and told twi i would be coming back, then sealed it tight.
i won't forget about you. i promise. yebehyia.
i was slipping my feet out of dusty village sandals into sleek jeweled slippers.
but i wasn't going to feel out of place. all my family has a way of being both prestigious and incredibly down to earth. of appearing glamorous and easily approachable. they live their rich lifestyle in a proud 'i found it on sale' type of way, jumping into their big glassy shimmering pools in formal evening wear.
they aren't pretentious.
we pulled up to a black gate, two men in guard uniforms and guns strapped over their shoulders opened it for us, and we drove up to the house i had heard so much about. my aunt was standing outside, looking beautiful of course, waving.
i had finally made it.
before i had a chance to lean over and pull the handle, the door opened for me.
"thank you." i told the driver, then i jumped down and went over to my aunt.
she had her arms outstretched and was laughing out thrill, she's dramatic by nature. "ohh kacie!!!"
"judi!"
we gave a warm hug and then she began on the beginning of a series of a million and one stories, all of which were animated and told with the same amount of energy and urgency, smoothly transferring from one onto the next like an Olympic relay race. sort of like bob, but in a more settling sane way.
we cruised through their house, which was obviously more of a mansion, and she tried to orientate me. i dropped my bag off in my youngest cousin's room, who hasn't grown older than 3 years old in my time warp memory, but will soon be celebrating her 14th birthday. "she's almost 14?!" i could barely believe it, but i didn't dare say that to her later, that would make me into one of those weird relatives. the kind you don't see for a long time and can only stare and comment about how big you've gotten. the kind that i was about to be but pretend not to be. "then how old is Torri?"
"she's turning 16 on Saturday!" judi said. then she went on to tell me of a fabulous surprise birthday party they threw for her just a few days prior. "since we'll be on our family trip for her birthday, and she really wanted something special, i thought it'd be really fun to give her a little surprise. i mean, you know us kacie, i don't know what she was expecting, she knows she wasn't getting a car. imagine that!" then she imitated driving up in a beautiful convertible and waved over to the wall. "beep beep, hello!!!" we both laughed. "she knows we aren't like that, so instead i just woke up really early..." judi has a way of stretching out her words and making very dedicated eye contact during her stories so that the intensity knocks up a few notches and you're drawn in whether you were willing or not. i was willing. "... i woke up really early..."
and she moves her body like a dancer. her hands, her head, her shoulders are erect.
"... i woke up really early, and cooked all this special food for her, cake, chocolate mousse. uuummm, chocolate mousse, it was so fun! we'll have to eat that after lunch, there's still some left." she said, giggling and letting me in on her secret. "are you hungry?"
"very."
"good, because i planned bean tacos for you. i couldn't remember if you were still a vegetarian or what, so i figured bean tacos would be safe. the cooks have finished and the table is set so let's go do that, let's go eat bean tacos. then we can have the chocolate mousse, won't that be fun?!"
it sounded perfect to me.
when we were sitting at the table i asked "what's this?"
"oh it's The Buzzer." she said, overacting being official, clipping her big full lips together and perking up her eyebrows. "i still can't ring it without laughing. really. try it." she pushed it over in my direction. it was a small white rectangle chunk with a button on top.
"what would i say?"
"Francis will come out and ask you what you want. but we can do that later, for the dessert."
we sat and assembled tacos with all the beautiful ingredients splayed out on the table.
"i like to eat here, it's more intimate. so when it's just me and niels, or like this right now, me and you, i try to get them to set us up out here. it's just too creepy eating at that huge dining room table when it's not full, you know!?!"
"how often do you eat lunch with niels?"
"he tries to come home in the afternoon everyday."
i respect my uncle. he is a true family man. and i respect my aunt. they've raised a beautiful family.
i was onto my 4th taco. i couldn't control myself, it was all too good. i was trying not to apologize for my over appetite, i can't stand listening to woman apologizing for eating because i know what they are really apologizing for.
sorry for daring to appear unsexy, sorry for choosing myself over image, sorry for not being a "lady".
but when there were no more shells and i realized i had eaten more than my fare share i did squeak out a sorry. that was a sorry for being inconsiderate.
"oh keep eating! here-" she said, sliding The Buzzer over to me "we can get some more."
i pushed it and we both cracked up. my index finger had beckoned a servant and he was standing by my side in less than a minute with a silver tray and big willing eyes. i felt really weird. i hated it from an outside perspective, but as an insider it seemed okay for the moment. i couldn't over analyze it now, i had to eat more tacos.
"um, do you think we could get some more taco shells?"
"yes of course." he said, nodding and turning with the precision of a cadet.
when he came back judi asked for the bowl of mousse from the fridge. i believe there were more than 6 fridges, but he apparently knew which one she was talking about.
"yes Madame." he said.
"with 2 spoons also! and no bowls, just bring it in the big green bowl it's already in."
"Madame, no bowls?"
"no bowls. just spoons. thanks."
"yes Madame."
we chatted some more and my head began to spin from all the options. options of food, things to talk about, paintings to stare at, rooms to discover, ways to focus my mind. options of how to feel, being so rich in a world so poor.
Francis began to try and clear a space for the mousse, which looked delicious.
"oh it's okay francis, you can just put the bowl over on the table down there."
"yes Madame."
then he placed it on the low lying coffee table and looked at us like he was either making a huge mistake, or we were crazy.
"thanks" we said.
we walked over with our spoons in hand, sat down cross legged, and dug in. i could feel a double chin growing with each bite, and i embraced it, temporarily.
"so Yannika has a soccer game this afternoon at her school. it's parents versus students and i sort of signed you up as a competitor. i thought it'd be fun! i'll play too..."
i was exhausted and needed to sleep, but if i couldn't do that soccer was the next best thing.
"sure, that sounds like a lot of fun."
i noticed i still felt that strange feeling, the one i had in the airport with my uncle, the disorientation. almost as if i was watching a video of myself. the feeling of jet lag, or drugs. i wanted it to go away.
once i saw my cousins, played soccer, and took a nap, all would be fine. i was sure.
i was just glad to be with my family.
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