happy bervday

i didn't want to be dissapointed when my birthday came around, so instead, i made preparations for myself. 3 days before, when i was in kumasi, i took my first trip in over 6 months inside a grocery store. the choices were too numerous i didn't know what to do, so i grabbed a COLD! bottle of chocolate soymilk and a packet of cookies labeled "American Style Brownie Cookies" with a picture that looked delicious. i hoped the image of the chocolate chunks poking out of the tops of the cookies wasn't lying to me.

"this should do." i told myself.

my birthday would be celebrated, no matter what. even if no body in the village remembered, i would have 16 brownie cookies to keep me company. the chocolate soymilk was consumed while i waited in line. i missed waiting in grocery store lines.

i returned to the village just as the sun was setting. sofie was sitting on the porch, drawing her feet, she looked up.

"hello!" she said cheerfully.

"hiii..."

"you're back!"

"yeah."

"well i'm just sketching my feet" she laughed "it's friday night you know? we should go out!"

we both laughed at the idea, knowing full well there wasn't really any where to go. our new favorite game was to talk of impossibilies in a realistic way.

"where do you want to go?" i asked.

"anywhere really. we could go salsa dancing..." she kept drawing and thinking.

"dancing sounds fun, but i kind of want to watch a movie. let's go to the movies!"

"ohhhhhh- a film! wouldn't it be great to watch a film? it's a bugger i didn't get my mom to bring us over any, but i guess we'd need electricity..."

my arms were full of bags, i motioned to them, "i'm gonna go inside and drop these off... i'll be back out..."

i went to my room and unloaded my goods. the rainy season had displaced the ants, and now they were streaming around my walls in tidy delicate lines. i knew i had to hide my precious cookies far away from where they marched. the bag wasn't open but i didn't doubt their capabilities, so i stuck the sweets in a plastic bag and hung the bag around a hanger, then put the hanger in the back of my wardrobe.

i went outside, laid my cloth next to sofie, and took in the last few moments of light.

"so" i said "what did you do today?"

"ahhh? saw some patients, taught a lesson, came home, sat here... it's been a bit slow really."

i liked seeing sofie relaxed, it was unusual.

"who's inside?" i asked, two voices were making their way through the walls out to us. "sounds like they're fighting?"

our 4 ears perked up and we listened intently, then we looked at each other. "auntie is yelling at someone, let's go see who it is."

the difference between this sound and all the others, was that the person was yelling back at auntie. when i walked around the corner i went straight into my room, immediately embarrassed to be in caught in the middle. it was auntie and seth, screaming at one another. i didn't turn around to see where sofie was, but i heard her bedroom door close.

the fight was directly outside my door. auntie was barking at seth accusing him of sneaking around, lying about where he says he goes. seth was yelling back telling her he is an honest man, if he says he's going into town, that is where he will go.

i didn't understand why they were fighting about something that seemed so mundane, but i was sure it wasn't just that. any way, i felt cooped up, so i took a deep breath, opened my door, and scurried over to sofie's room. i noticed sakola was now involved, holding back skinny seth from going after his mother.

it was a regular african jerry springer. my sister would have loved it.

"what's the matter? why are they fighting in english? how bizarre..." sofie asked, when i reached her hideout.

"i'm not entirely certain..."

we stayed put, sofie resting on her bed, and me resting my ear against the door trying to work out all the details, until i was sure it was all over. when we emerged, both seth and auntie had packed up and left the house. i went outside, sakola was walking the length of the porch, back and forth back and forth.

"sako!?"

"akua."

"they're gone?"

he laughed.

i ran back inside, told sofie. "they've left!"

i know that sofie likes auntie, all but her singing at 4 every morning.

"dance party!" i yelled.

sofie grabbed her hand powered long wave radio from atop her window and spun the handle around about 20 times, then put it down. "really let's do a salsa lesson. highlife is nice music to salsa to... i'll teach you."

we spent the next hour in her room while i struggled trying to learn how to move my ribs. "it's really not the most important part" sofie said, while hers were moving around in perfect circles "it's this step right here..."

sakola peeked his head in the room and made fun of me. "akua, is no correct, heeeeyyy."

i didn't like somebody commenting on my imperfections, esp. while i was trying to learn. "why don't you come and try to do it, stop staring!?"

about every 8 minutes or so, the radio would lose power and one of us would have to grab the handle and crank it till it had enough juice to give us another session.

"i'm hot man! let's go out on the porch." she said.

we took the radio outside and put it on the ground. Cheif, my ghost roommate who i now have quite a strange connection with, walked over to our music and switched the station... to talk radio, in twi.

i ran after him and threatened to beat him up, he grabbed the stereo and ran away from me like a little boy, laughing through his nose and choking on the excitement of possibly being caught.

"cheif we want highlife, put it back on highlife!"

eventually he did, but the salsa lesson was over. i couldn't bear having the boys watch every move i was learning, then comment on my inability. cheif was finding too much pleasure in it. so instead, i danced my way, kacie way, with spins and kicks and wiggles. sofie claims i have rhythmn, and i do, but not the kind that can be harnassed into the precision of a salsa move. sakola liked this new dancing better. "is good" he said nodding "is good. i'm like it."

the night was perfect. the energy from town could be felt, it was busteling but far away, and our porch scene was full of life. i was coming up with some pretty outrageous moves i had never tried before, even jumping up and hugging one of the big thick columns on the porch. it feels good to hug columns.

sofie mentioned earlier that she feels more like a kid now than she ever has.

i had to agree.

"we are constantly having to find ways to keep ourselves busy. i'm really keen on inventing entertainment." she said.

and it was true, each day we had successions of big round hours. all these big round hours were plump with nothing to do. we had to squeeze the life out of them. at times, it was tedious, being confronted with an afternoon's blank agenda, but, it eventually gave way to a million and one little acts of creation. and creating is fun.

we were constantly trying to find ways to keep ourselves engaged. sometimes, one of us would think of something absolutely brilliant, something that could fill at least a few hours.

this last week we had already created an obstacle course complete with buckets of water and a homemade jump rope, learned important facts about one anothers countries (one including Manchester is the new unofficial gay capital of England), verbally recited our favorite recipes, and manually spell checked sofie's journal.

"you're birthday is on sunday." sofie said, as she moved in the dark to the music.

"i know..."

"what do you want to do?"

"i don't know..." i kept dancing.

i couldn't invest any thought at that moment, all i could say was "i bought some cookies. brownie cookies."

i heard her appreciate the comment with a little moan, and the night went on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i wrote in my journal,

tommorow, i will be 26.

just to remind myself.

then i planned the day as follows.

1. sleep in past 4 a.m..

i knew this would be easy now that auntie wasn't around and i was looking quite forward to it, which is why i was a little pissed off when the knock on my door woke me from a wonderful slumber. i looked at the clock, it was just about to be 6. i got up and opened the door to see sakola standing in front of me, smiling and staring. "akua, the builders are here." he pushed his arm opening my door, motioning his finger around my room. "you have to pick this up."

i glared at him, then recited- i am in control of my attitude. i am in control of my attitude. i am in control of my attitude.

it wasn't helping. i didn't appreciate being woken up and then told to clean my room. and before i knew it, i had strange men trampling around measuring and grunting and carrying tables into my space.

is being overprotective of one's privacy a sin?

"okay let me just move my mattress" i said, bending over and trying to move it out of the way. i wasn't sure what these guys were doing, something along the lines of window dressing. curtains wouldn't be a bad thing, i told myself, they would keep Cheif from constantly peering in. i tried to see the positive, because i knew i wouldn't be getting back to bed.

then sofie walked in with one of my market bags in her hand. it was full, and she plopped it down in front of my feet. "happy birthday." she said. "do you like the gift wrap?"

i unveiled my present in her room, slowly, with much delight.

on the top was a journal. inside the journal was a step by step guide, drawn and watercolored and easy to understand, of our daily yoga routine, so that i wouldn't forget it when she wasn't around.

just as my name is akua kessywa, she has also been named Yaa Sophia (so-fy-yah) Fire. on top of the paper said "Yaa Sophia Fire's Training" in bright red.

behind sofie's training manual, was another beautiful watercolor she had done of a view of the maternity center.

"your life!" she said, humbly admiring her work from a distance.

it was the best present, and i wanted to hug her but we didn't really have the hugging type of relationship.

"thank you, so much." i said.

"keep going..."

i reached down and pulled out a bag of dried fruit, the kind her mother had brought from london. packages of snacks, esp. fruit, were more precious than gold. i could barely believe she'd give up an entire thing.

"sofie!"

i felt greedy getting more. i wanted to stop, she urged me to continue.

i pulled out a radical pair of dangly earrings, something she found at the local market. i loved them. they were coppery gold and looked like the scales of a fish falling from my earlobe.

she gave me her english-twi dictionary which was much more expanded and detailed than mine. she was certain i'd get more use out of it, and i was instantly looking forward to all the words.

"i hope they fit" she said, as i pulled out a pair of jeans, something we both had spent hours talking about in the past few months. it was frivolous talk, of how we missed slipping ourselves into our favorite jeans, and walking around in weather that was cold enough for them. if it was imperative i would be able to sew her jeans from back home, stitch by stitch. i know them that well.

i ripped off my shorts and put them on. they pinched my waist, gave me a cameltoe, and went up to my ankles. "ohh sofie! you shouldn't have! i love them!"

it wasn't even 7 in the morning and it was already a great birthday.

everyone had planned a delicious dinner, my favorite ghanaian meal of boiled plantain and garden egg stew.

sofie and i spent the morning outside. i couldn't decide whether or not to go to church. "i'm spiritually starving." i said, as i looked up at the sky. i missed my church back home, i missed being in community with people who truly understood me. i didn't want to sit through another sermon in twi, and strain to understand.

"how about you give me a sermon here?" sofie asked.

i agreed, and told stories of the times God has answered my prayers in incredible ways, of times when Grace had never been more clear.

"this is great!" sofie said "i'm doing things here i've never had the time to do at home. i keep telling myself i want to be more spiritual."

initially i felt a little nervous because from what i've gathered sofie is very turned off by christianity. i can see why. but there is the other side, the beautiful side, and i wasn't sure if i could illuminate it the way i know it. our morning on the porch was stimulating and i believe it revived us both.

we helped sakola and his mother farm in the afternoon, by gathering and carrying huge baskets of cocoa on our heads. we were depositing them in a head high pile which would be harvested the next day. every time i passed sakola, he'd smile big and say "akua! happy bervday!" and i'd keep walking by him, focused and glad to have him notice.

after bathing back home, my old friend Osmand stopped by to say hello. he was casually carrying a big white chicken by it's legs. it looked paranoid.

"kacie- hello. i've stopped by but haven't met you in a long time. i brought this for you." he handed it over to me.

i was excited, but still, i didn't want to touch it.

"a chicken! osmand!"

he wiggled it a bit, he wanted me to take it.

"thank you! here, let's put it over here." i hurried him over to a corner where he tossed the chicken. "wow, thanks. nobody had ever given me a chicken before."

we sat and caught up with each other. he let me know how the Muslim soccer team was doing, since i hadn't been playing with them. i told him to tell the guys' i say hello.

"so, about the chicken. i guess i have to kill it to eat it huh?"

it was a stupid question, which is why i hate it when i hear some people say 'there are no stupid questions.'

"will you be able?" he asked.

"no. i can't kill that chicken. look at him? his little glassy eye all freaked out. osmand! i can't even look at him all tied up like that, it makes me feel wierd."

"sakola can do it for you."

"but what happens if i need to MOVE the chicken?"

he looked at me and laughed.

"i know" i said "can you just bring it over here into sakola's room and we'll keep it in there until he comes home?"

sofie yelled "not in sakola's room, it will shit everywhere!"

i kept going "ya, bring it in here, we'll shut the door, perfect."

the chicken was crumpled in a corner close to sakola's bed. he would know how to handle it. i didn't want to touch it's feet, all leathery and waxy.

we ended up moving it a few more times, and its final destination was underneath a wicker basket on madame's porch, where it would suprise them all.

my birthday had turned out to be a huge success, in a different sort of way. all these people i loved were showing me love with chickens and jeans and smiles.

we went to madame's house to eat dinner. i had just learned the twi word for "gift" a few days before. i asked them if they saw the "akyedee" we left them on the porch and they all were thrilled. "tommorow you can kill it." madame said, knowing how i would react. "sofie wants to." we looked over at her and she didn't know what we were talking about. "you see? she isn't protesting." i said. Collins laughed.

NanaKwame and Sakola took a bicycle into town, loaded the basket with soda and beer, and came back to distribute. sakola was intent on drinking beer. i liked his resolve, it was unlike him. i joined in, loving every sip of my birthday beer, it's warmth and all.

just before sunset, i thanked the family for cooking my favorite food and singing me happy bervday, and went down to the clinic with sofie to visit our other people.

kingsley, his wife, and daughter, along with Ma's housegirl Gladys were relaxing on benches outside the clinic, watching the sky go from pink to orange to yellow. they had a stereo blaring ripe african beats. the wind was blowing warmth in whirlpools all around my body and face and we all got the urge to dance, so that is exactly what we did, till dark.

i went to the houses behind the clinic, greeted vera, efreeyeh, and Ma, and answered their questions with 'it's been a wonderful day'. efreeyeh was braiding Watchman's first wife's hair.

"happy berthday akua." she said.

"efreeyeh, since today is my birthday and all, i am going to ask just one favor."

she twisted the hair into tight antenaee around the woman's head. "what is it."

"i need a little boneshakin'"

"eih! akua. okay." she let go of the strand and backed up a bit. she bent her knees, made her elbows go alert, and shimmied her waist around. "boneshaker!" she said.

i clapped.

"thank you, thank you. now i must be going, it's dark already."

i ran out of her compound, met up with sofie and we went home.

"don't you kind of like the way they all say bervday?" i mentioned, on our way back.

"ya, it's just nice that they all noticed. i was wondering how today was going to go. did you have a nice time?"

"yes, i did." "i'm excited to be 26."

"good."

"and i'm excited about those brownie cookies..."

"yaaaa..."

"and about our chicken dinner tommorrow night..."

oh saturdays and slingshots

saturdays, are still generally long slow days filled with laundry and not much else to do. i was through with my wash, and i was dying for a little stimulation.

it was early and nobody was in the house.

i swept my room, 'made my bed' by throwing my one sheet into wrinkle free status, then went out into the backyard with my new best friend, my homemade slingshot.

i have been wanting to make a slingshot since i was in the first grade and i started collecting ecclectic homemade battle gear. my uncle had made me a wooden sheild to block the flying unripe figs that my older brother and his friends pelted at me on my walk home from school, and i found some sharp rocks to attatch at the end of my spears that would be good for stabbing. my dad bought me camoflauged shorts and a matching shirt, perfect for a city girl trying to hide out. i was set, i thought. but still, deep down inside, i knew i needed a slingshot, or flaming nunchucks.

one day, while i was out on the side of the highway trying to flag down a speeding tro tro i noticed a small shop, the size of a storage shed, selling thick red rubber bands. i walked over and asked the man how much. he said a few cents, so i bought one. then he laughed and asked me what i was planning on doing with my red rubber band.

"defend myself, kill things, you know."

"do you know HOW to make a catapult?" i could tell he didn't have much faith in the white girl.

"ya. of course i do."

"so you know you should buy this band here as well." he said, pointing to a skinnier length of long red rubber. "and this." he held up a short leather strip, the launching pad.

"oh ya, let me get some of those also."

i gave him a few more coins, and snatched the goods away. then i went back to the side of the road, with my purchase dangling from one hand. all the cars were full, nobody was picking me up. my dark hair had absorbed all the suns rays and was sitting on my head like a sizzling cap. i needed some shade.

i went over and sat down at a roadside bench, in the shade. i stared at my rubber bands and felt excitement at the possibilities. i'd make a slingshot, give up my home, travel in the woods, and eat the meat i killed using the slingshot over a fire i started, for the rest of my life. i'd bathe in rivers, sleep in trees, and be free. i wouldn't cry when i sprained my ankles, and eventually i might not even need shoes. i'd finally be hardcore.

a young man, about my age, walked by me looked at my hand and giggled. his smile made me smile. he stopped a few feet ahead, turned around, and asked if i was planning on making a catapult.

"yes. i am."

"can i help you?" he asked.

"i kind of wanted to do this by myself." any male involvement in this activity was going to ruin my vision.

"i see you have the string" he said "but you need that thing..." he was squinting his eyes trying to remember the english word. "you need the stick, for the middle."

"ya, i know. i'll get it later."

"why don't you let me go find the stick for you?"

i didn't say anything, i just stared at him and thought about it. then... "where are you going to get it?"

"i'll have to go to the bush."

"okay, fine. you can find the stick, but make sure it's a good one, nice and strong."

"yes, i will. wait me, i'm coming." then he walked off, across the highway, into the wild.

i sat and waited, not long, and he returned. he had carved the stick into a perfect Y, and he even made the handle smooth by taking off the bark, revealing a firm white underlayer. when he came over to the bench and sat down next to me i noticed he only had one arm.

i stared at it.

"give me the string." he said, motioning to the opposite end of the bench, where they lay.

i handed them to him.

he wedged the stick between his no-arm armpit and he held the thick rubber band around the twig with his other hand. he took the smaller skinnier rubber band and tied the thick rubber band to the stick using thta. he cut off the excess with the pointy edges of his incisors and spit it out on the ground. then he looked up at me.

"can i help you with any of this?" i asked, more intruiged by watching a one armed man make a slingshot than feeling the need to do it all by myself.

"oh don't worry."

then he worked on tying the other half to the opposite side of the Y.

"you really know what you're doing." i said while a chunk of rubberband was in his mouth.

when he was free he looked up and said "every small boy in ghana has a catapult. but you? you are a grown white woman. what will you be using this for?"

i laughed and looked down. "anything really. mostly i just want to shoot things."

then he asked "why?".

"i don't know why, i just feel like it."

hearing the words come out of my mouth i seemed so blase about life, about taking life. i didn't believe i was ever a vegetarian.

"what will you shoot?"

"what is there to shoot?"

"okay, well, you can go looking for bushmeat."

"yes, that is what i will do."

he handed me my completed killing device, and stood up to leave.

"hey" i said, "thanks for helping me. you did a lot better job than i would have done." he had secured it tightly, and i was sure it'd last a long time.

"yes, it's true. and you see my arm here?" he lifted his wedge.

when i looked closer i realized he actually did have an arm, but it had curled up and molded itself together.

"what happened?" i asked.

"buruli ulcer."

"sorry." i said.

"eh, it's okay. by the way, what is your name?"

"i'm kacie."

"okay kacie, have a nice day."

i raised my slingshot up "you too, and thanks again."

now whenever i look at my slingshot i think of my buruli ulcer friend. sometimes i see him playing checkers with his friends, when i'm waiting for a tro tro. i call out to him, and he gives me a big smile back and waves.

but it was all an act, my desire to kill things.

nanakwame came by that saturday, saw me with my slingshot shooting at nothing in the distance, and told me i wasn't "correct", that we needed to go to where his finger was pointing.

i jumped up gladly.

we went hiking in the bush behind our house, after having walked through acres and acres of orange trees to get there. in the orange grove he showed me his shooting skills by aiming at the innocent fruit, which plunged to it's death because of his accurate shot. he stuck them in his pockets for a better time, when we hid and ate them in secret.

my pants were full of walnut sized rocks and i couldn't stop shooting.

"kessy!? NO! you don't shoot there- you don't shoot there. you shoot the tree, why?"

"because i want to!" i'd yell, as i launched another attack on the distant folage.

he walked over authoritaritively and ripped the slingshot out of my hands.

"hey nanakwame! what are you doing?"

"is no correct!"

"i'm shooting..."

he pouted his lips and handed me my slingshot. "like this" he said, creeping close to the ground eyeing a little bird sitting on the end of a tree branch. he jumped and shot and the bird flew away. i liked the sound of rubber whizzing through air.

we spent the rest of the afternoon shooting birds and oranges. we were only successful with the oranges.

"is kama kama!" nanakwame said, approving of my newly aquired slingshot skills. i was quite proud myself, even though we didn't get any animals. but i was glad we didn't kill a bird, nanakwame stopped shooting once i told him i don't eat bird, apart from the usual.

"you don't eat then you don't shoot." he said.

but i kept at it any way, sure i wasn't going to come close to anything that had an opportunity to move. i wanted my shot to sound like his.

we eventually had to go home because we both needed water. after a day of hiking in the sun i rested for a bit on my bed, but the sound of the birds crashing into the front window was disturbing me. i tried to ignore it, but it sounded more like a flock trying to get through than just 1.

i heard sofie's door open, not realizing she was home too.

"sofie!" i called through my window, the one that faces the living room.

"those birds man!" she said.

i grabbed my slingshot and went into the living room. "i'll shoot them." i said. "i just need some rocks."

sofie ran into the backyard and found some uneven concrete chunks and deposited them in my palm.

"thanks." i said.

we crept down the hallway, quietly, the way i had seen sakola do it when he shot the birds. they were kaa-ing in the front, bashing their beaks into the thick black reflection. i threw open the front door, jumped up, let the concrete chunk fly and it hit the window with a bang.

all the birds turned and took flight, unscathed. but the sound of the rock hitting the window was jarring, and i inspected for possible crackage.

sofie didn't get to see what happened but she heard it. "nice shot." she said. i had hoped i impressed her, but i didn't show it. i wanted her to see my unlimited abilities, one of which was master hunter.

but i knew i was a long way off when just a few days later auntie had some men at the house repairing the front window.

"it broke?" i asked, eyes big and feeling fully responsible.

sofie said "yeah- you didn't hear the bird the other night? it crashed through the window- woke me up and scared me half to death!"

i looked at the spot where the firework crack was expanding. "are you sure?" then i admitted guiltly with concerned eyebrows... "i think i broke it."

"na, i heard it, it was a bird in the middle of the night."

i felt the need to fess up to auntie but i didn't know how to explain a situation with so much uncertainty involved. in her language either i broke the window, or i didn't, and i wasn't sure if i really had.

the crack was exactly where i intended to shoot the bird, but sofie said it crashed through at night.

"okay" i said, "i believe you."

i've now set some ground rules when i go out slingshotting.

1. i'm not allowed to do it around glass.

2. or children.

and i've had to come to terms with the fact that my future probably doesn't involve being hardcore, or, as much as i'd like to pretend, but sometimes, pretending is the best part.

at the beginning there was a wicked woman...

i was sitting in Ma's seat, behind her desk, because she had gone on a weekend vacation and i preferred her view. i also liked pretending she didn't exist, that it was just me and efreeyeh running the maternity ward. i sat there and imagined repainting the walls, the same colors- greens, yellows, pinks, just a fresh coat. maybe i'd rearrange the furniture? but mostly, if it was my center, i'd try to make the services free- i wouldn't want money to discourage a woman from coming. i was deep in daydream when efreeyeh walked in and sat down.

"whatareyoudoing?!" she said, abrubtly but playfully.

"i'm thinking." i said.

"you shouldn't do that."

the ghanaian word 'to think' is 'jwene' and it usually connotates having a problem, or being worried. people don't think when they are content. in the past, when sakola asked me what i was doing, i used to say i was thinking. he'd always tell me "stop thinking. is no good." his response always worried me until i figured out the context.

"nothing is wrong." i informed her.

"okay."

then we went back to silence.

efreeyeh blossoms when Ma is not around, she has more personality. and since Ed had come to the village, her energy levels had heightened. he had informed her the charity was going to help sponser her through midwifery school. it is a 2 year commitment, to which she'll be returning to work in the village, at the health center, to relieve Ma into retirement. but first she'd have to wait for Vera to go to nurse's training, also of which Foundation Human Nature would be sponsering.

a lot of changes are taking place.

Ed has hired a coordinator for FHN, his name is Vasco, and he is young, full of fire and vision. he's close friends with Ed, and was one of the chief people who helped rebuild and reestablish the clinic. that was 4 years ago, and he has just graduated university, ready to start working.
secetry tiptoed around Ed for days, trying his hardest to smile through his deep fear that Vasco's compentence would eliminate his role. i just found out he has been working full time without pay, Ed had never even met him before. he didn't know secetry existed. but in the typical secetry way, he saw a need in the community, at the health center, and he fulfilled it.

now, i hated seeing him so timid, so afraid, so much resembling an abused dog. his laugh was fake and his eyes lost their sparkle. he didn't stand firm while greeting. sofie confirmed my observation. "secetry looks pretty bad, doesn't he?".

i cheered when i found out ed invited secetry onto FHN staff. "i really like him, he's funny. we need people like him working here." is what he said. i congratulated secetry, and he said "oh well well, tank you. tank you." then he told me he would do this work for free. "akua, don't go chasing money. rather, you do the right work and the money will chase you."

life at the center was brimming with possibilities and hope, with celebration. staff and health volunteers were riding around on their new shiny red bicycles, ringing their bells, showing off. Ma had even been promised a bicycle, she gladly accepted the offer.

i was enjoying the week, sitting and soaking in Huttel Health Center life, spending time with everybody's good moods.

"i want to tell you something" efreeyeh said "but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

i love those kinds of introductions. "okay, tell me."

"akua, do you remember that woman? the woman who had those twins?"

"the one we visited at home, the pregnant one?"

"yes, that one."

i had been wondering about her. she was way past her due date, and i occasionally saw her during my time off, as i wandered about the village. she could barely walk and she had turned into the hugest pregnant woman i had ever seen. the lining of my abdomen cringed everytime i smiled in her direction. "yeah, i remember her. please tell me she's delivered."

"she delivered."

"where?" i asked, wondering if Ma yelling at her scared her away from the clinic, or if she was one of the cases at night that i missed.

"she delivered in Duampopo, in the next town over."

"Duampopo?! why did she deliver there?"

"akua! hey! i am trying to tell you a story. listen."

i made myself comfortable in Ma's chair. "okay, go."

"akua you have to correct me when i make a mistake. i want my english to improve. so correct me."

"i will- tell me the story."

"so this woman, the one with twins, she hadn't delivered as of last saturday, she was too big! she was too too big." "the man who got her pregnant actually has another wife. for 6 years he has wanted a child but this woman, his first wife, couldn't give him one, so he got one from my friend, the woman with his twins. the man begged his first wife to let him marry the second one and she agreed. but she wanted him to bring her soooo many things first."

"like what?"

"oh things! she wanted 6 cloths, nice ones, kama kama. 6 nice cloths?! he is not a rich man, how can he do that? she couldn't do that. so she didn't bring them to him so-"

"efreeyeh stop. i'm confused. you're mixing up your pronouns."

"thank you. HE didn't bring the cloths to HER."

"good."

"HE didn't bring the cloths to HER, so she became angry and visited the jujuman, and put a curse on my friend which is why she didn't deliver. she had to go to duampopo to deliver with a pastor, a woman there who prays prays prays and then delivers." "you see? the juju was too strong her babies wouldn't come, it was coming up to 1 year she had been pregnant."

"1 year?" i asked, skeptically.

"akua, believe me, she is my friend. it was close to 1 year, and it could have been longer."

"how do you know all this?"

"you can see the way they move, you can see how the one woman disturbs the other woman. she is always acting unkind, when they are in town the one woman will always be saying things about the other woman. it's true akua, the first wife is a very wicked woman."

"so who is this woman in duampopo?"

"the one who delivered the twins?" she asked.

"yes."

"she is a traditional birth attendant and a woman pastor. she prayed and prayed for the juju to leave, and the twins came."

"where'd they come?"

"at the woman pastor's home."

"oh, okay. and so why is this a secret?"

"ai akua! it's a secret because only a few people know, if you say something, one person will hear and tell another, like that, you see?"

"ya but who cares if everyone knows?"

"because the first wife will beat my friend if she sees that we know. if she knows we know her movement, going to do juju, she will become very furious. so we have to pretend as if nothing is the matter."

"so going to the juju man is a secret thing."

"yes. you can go and-" she grabbed a pen from the desk "say he wants this thing. you can give him this thing. give him this thing and tell him 'do not let this woman deliver' and he'll keep the thing and do what you have asked. like that." then she leaned back and said "ei! 1 year... akua... you don't have juju in your town?"

"not like yours, no. we don't have juju men."

"is that so?"

"i know you told me this was a secret story, but what if i wanted to tell some people."

"akua! you-"

"-some people from my home. can i? i don't think they'll tell anyone in boamadumase, or duampopo. i'll just write it in a story."

"okay...you can do that. start it like this. 'at the beginning there was a wicked woman...' and you can go from there to tell the story."

"okay, i will."

she stood up, leaned over, swatted my arm and laughed. "akua!".

oops!

sofie had been working on what she referred to as "the bike project" since the beginning of her time in ghana. her goal was to get each health volunteer and staff worker their own bicycle. she had contacted an american NGO in accra, which gives discounted bicycles to people living in villages, after having provided a day of training them how to maintain it. every time she went to the internet cafe, she corresponded with the NGO and worked out the details of how to get 20 bicycles into Boamadumase.

she wrote up and list, with the help of Secetry and I, of who would be recieving a bike.

i remember the day we got the paper out, and wrote down the names. it was a few months ago. i don't remember exactly what happened, but somehow Ma got left out. i can faintly recall us all looking at each other skeptically as to whether or not Ma would want a bicycle. we might have even laughed at the thought of her riding around town.

just last week a big lorry filled with red postman bikes pulled down the road and unloaded the goods. they were stored in the men's ward until the day of training, a saturday, when some men from the NGO would visit our village and teach us all how to take good care of a bike.

the arrival of the bicycles created quite a stir. people in town saw the truck driving through, and now on my walk to work little children were asking me to give them a bike. everyone at the health clinic were anxiously anticipating being able to ride around, and were looking forward to recieving them. even sofie had an extra bounce to her walk, and kept peering through the shutters to get a good look at them all locked up and lined up.

most of the health volunteers have been asking for bikes for years now, i was told by ed. he's been promising, and was relieved to see sofie take charge and make it happen.

we were sitting in the office talking about how excited every one was, how happy they all were, how beneficial a bicycle would be for some of the volunteers that live miles and miles away, when i got up and walked across the lawn into Ma's office.

kingsley was leaned up against her doorway, and she was sitting behind her desk, in her white dress. kingsley was defending himself, shaking a little and nervous like Piglet.

i walked past him and sat down in a chair, ready to engage in some late afternoon conversation, when all of a sudden Ma exploded. i couldn't understand what she was saying, but i had never heard her speak like this before. Her face went from a glowing orangish to a greenish to a deeper red. she wasn't happy.

kingsley hid a little behind the door frame, while Ma's hands whipped around, smacking the air around her. i was afraid of what i just walked in on, afraid to look at Ma. her voice had grown deeper than a roll of thunder but there was something else peculiar going on... it was shaky.

when i glanced over at her i saw that her bottom lip was quivering and her big owl face was trembling at the edges. her eyebrows were like poison arrows.

i didn't say a word, i just crossed my hands and stuck them between my crossed legs and looked down. then, i listened attentively, as miKe waRRingTon would say.

"i never heard that!" the words flew passionatley in twi out of Ma's mouth "NOBODY EVER ASKED ME!"

"they wrote the list and said you didn't want a bike." kingsley said.

"WHO? WHO WROTE THE LIST? HMPF." she leaned back in her chair for a silent moment, then... "YOU DIDN'T EVEN THINK TO ASK ME!"

my mind quickly retraced the making of the list. a surge of guilt shocked my body. had i spoken for Ma? said she didn't want a bike? cracked a joke about it? i felt i had to make something better, but i wasn't sure how.

"ma?" i said, a little too quietly.

"I AM THE HEAD MIDWIFE, SENIOR STAFF, NOBODY EVEN CARES!" she yelled. kingsley was toeing the ground.

"i think it was an accident." i said, sheepishly.

"EI! HA. HMPF." she stared blankly ahead, her mouth in full frown, with a look she was about to start crying.

"i'm sure we can get you your own bike."

"IT ISN'T THAT!"

silence and a deep breath.

"WHAT PAINS" she said "IS THAT NOBODY EVEN THOUGHT TO INFORM ME."

i realized this was a major blow. at the health center, under ghanaian terms, because she is the oldest person around, she should be the most respected. this shipment of bicycles was considered a big deal and she had had no idea it was happening, we had forgotten her.

"IF THAT IS HOW IT IS, FINE, I'LL PACK MY BAGS AND LEAVE."

her fury hadn't died down, i was suprised by how charged she was.

kingsley tried slinking away and Ma yelled at him to figure out who made the list. he called efreeyeh, who seemed to be the most elated from the idea of getting a bike. she loves bike riding. she walked through the screen door glowing with excitement, unaware of what was going on.

right when Ma started screaming at Efreeyeh, Efreeyeh began to laugh and looked down. this small interaction clarified so much for me. i had heard Ma admonish patients before, during consultation, and each did the same thing- that is- they looked down and laughed. i always thought i must have been interpreting the situation incorrectly, nobody laughs, nobody looks genuinely joyful when someone is yelling at them. but i was wrong, they do. efreeyeh looked happy.

"...HUH? TELL ME!"

efreeyeh said she didn't make the list, while kingsley escaped. "BUT YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T MAKE THE LIST? YOU ARE A MIDWIFE'S ASSISTANT, YOU SHOULD KNOW THESE THINGS!"

then Ma wrapped her arms close to her body and squeezed. "CALL VIC FOR ME!"

efreeyeh ran out and i sat with Ma. i wanted to ask her where she'd plan on riding around, which paths would she take, but i knew it was irrelevant.

"I'll PACK MY BAGS AND GO." she said.

i suddenly felt that she wanted me to resist that, i needed to talk her down from her bridge.

"Maaaaaaa... we need you here. you can't go."

"HMPF!"

"Really Ma, you're the master midwife. it was a bad mistake."

"A MISTAKE! last night that young woman came in, you and sofie and edward were here. why did you call for vic to come settle the case? huh? the young woman was pregnant, it should have been settled in maternity, but you called vic. she is only pretending to be a midwife. i am certified, but you didn't call me!"

"but they weren't certain it was a maternity case. they were trying to figure it out."

the woman was pregnant, and we had met her on the road in the dark, she was moaning in agony, her husband holding her up. we turned around and walked back to the clinic. she sounded like she could have been having a baby, but she was only 2 months pregnant. a possible spontaneous abortion, but there was no blood, and none ever came. we didn't feel the need to disturb Ma while she was sleeping. the doctors were taking care of it.

"THEY SHOULD HAVE CALLED ME! YOU SEE! ... and the other girl, the small girl whose father raped her. she went to vic. that should have been my case. she should come to me for antenatal, 6 months pregnant. she will come to deliver and i won't know who she is. hmpf! i didn't even know about her until you said something. why should she go to vic? i am the midwife! why?"

i could see her point. i felt guilty and i felt bad, mostly because Ma was hurt and i didn't like seeing her like this. not all the maternity cases were being referred to her. in her eyes, we were disrespecting and insulting her, and she had been storing up all this anger for awhile.

"both of those things upset you?" i asked.

"YES!"

"nobody knew. you didn't tell us."

"i know. why should i tell you?"

"because it makes you mad."

i quickly remembered mad means insane in this part of the world. i rephrased. "because you're angry and none of us even know."

"WELL IT'S NOT GOOD. NONE OF THIS IS GOOD. YOU SEE?"

"i'm sorry."

Madame Vic walked in the room and sat down across from me, cooly. she looked at Ma and then back at me. "we made a very bad mistake, we have forgotten Ma. she is the senior staff so if we are going to make a project we should inform her, ask her, see what she thinks. it's too bad." then she shook her head.

Ma shouted at Vic, then called everyone in for one last session. then we all left, droopy shouldered dragging our feet. secetry had just arrived, and as the screen door was shutting Ma heard his voice. "CALL SECETRY." she ordered me.

"secetry!" i pointed back through the door "Ma wants you."

he jumped off the bike, and laughed. when he walked past me into her area i could tell he already knew what he was in for. it looked like he was trying to shrug his shoulders up high so his head might fall down into the deep part of his tshirt. so he could cushion the attack.

i heard him squeal when she started yelling, and i looked back to see her words creating winds so vicious i hoped he'd make it out alive.

i walked back into the office, where ed and sofie were sitting.

"this is so cool!" sofie said, clapping her hands together. "all the bikes are here, i'm so excited!" she clenched her teeth and sucked in a happy breath. i gave her a smile back, but it was really fake.

i wasn't able to shake the wrath, it had stained my afternoon. it would be hard to get rid of, i thought, until efreeyeh walked into the office swatted me on the head and started boneshakin'.

boneshaker

the woman had been in labor for over a day. Ma's had changed her hairdo from what she called "jerry", a short bob with tight curls, to a high ponytail that fell down her back, like a 50's girl, and the wait had really ruined her look. instead of the smooth thick mane of fake hair, it was tangled and matted from resting and waiting. she had a days worth of grease streaking her cheeks and her eyes were bloodshot.

we all were tired, and it was the middle of a hot day and i had run out of ways to keep myself occupied.

i tried yoga in the first stage room, next to Ma while she rested. she watched me, and yelled to efreeyeh in the other room that 'i was REALLY exercising!'. yoga is not relaxing when somebody is staring at you, so i stopped. i was too conscious of Ma. 'she is already tired!' Ma informed efreeyeh. 'you see? she's grown tired.' then she laughed.

before yoga i had finished a really good book and i wasn't ready to start another. the characters were still tingling through my body, still alive and next to me. it wouldn't be right to skip through that sensation and dive into another. it'd feel too much like rebounding.

i had napped for a few hours, had eaten too much, and had visited everyone in the clinic at least once.

"go and check your patient to see how far she is." Ma told me.

i went, put on a glove, and checked.

"WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN?!" Ma yelled from the bed.

i looked at efreeyeh like maybe she had the answer. i still had a very hard time measuring dilation. i needed more guidance, more instruction, more something.

"WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN? HUH!?"

"um, i think, she's at 6."

"6!" then came Ma's favorite line again... "DO YOU SEE HOW A MIDWIFE SUFFERS?!"

"well i'm not sure if it's 6, i think."

i went to stand between the two rooms, in the doorway, and i told Ma i needed more practice with that sort of thing. "can you come check? just so we really know?"

"but you shouldn't have done it if you don't know how. you see, the risk of infection will be high. efreeyeh! check!"

efreeyeh put on a glove, examed the lady, then yelled "6".

a little surge of pride ran up and down my spine. i was right. or... we were both wrong.

"are you sure?" i whispered.

she glanced at me sideways and snort laughed. "akua!"

"so looks like we'll be here all day." i said. "efreeyeh, tell me a joke."

she didn't say anything. she sat down on the childrens stool, with her head in her palms, and closed her eyes.

i prodded her awake "let's do something! we've been sleeping all day!"

"okay, what?" she asked.

"i don't know."

just then Ma came into the room with a surge of motivation to teach me something.

when she stood in the doorway she blocked the entire thing. i looked up at her from where efreeyeh and i were sitting and she resembled some magnificent sea creature, big and dark with wild hair for tentacles, and ready to emerge from it's sea cave.

"kaisy look." she said.

she balled up her chubby soft fist and held it out to me, there was a tiny hole she had created in the center. "this is 3 cm. you see?"

i bowed my head. "yes."

"here is 4" she made the hold a little larger "and 5, 6, and 7" the hold grew as she stuck her other hands fingers into the space "8, 9, and" her entire other hand shot through "10 cm! this is 10 cm."

"what is 1?" i asked.

"one is the size of a pinhole. very small. you see?"

i nodded.

"okay" she said "then now you know. you will be able to examine and see, then you can tell me."

she turned around, walked out, and got back onto the bed.

i looked at efreeyeh and asked her to show me 7 cm. efreeyeh's was much larger than Ma's and this style of learning was doing me no good, it was painfully inexact.

"c'mon" i said "arts and crafts time."

i went and grabbed some old cardboard, my swiss army knife, a pen, and a measuring tape.

"akua, you are doing what?" efreeyeh asked.

"lets cut out the cervix." i said. sofie had given me this idea, i just hadn't acted on it until now.

"lets go from 1-10, cut out the holes, then quiz each other."

we put down a dark blue sheet, on the floor next to Ma. Ma leaned over the side of the bed and watched us, approving of our activity. "see how the 1 is a pinhole?" she pointed.

when i cut out 10 cm and it was the size of a baby pizza, efreeyeh yelped. "akua, is too big!"

"i know, it's huge. you, one day, will be opening like this." then i threw the chunk of cardboard in her direction.

"no" she said "it's incorrect. you've cut it too big."

"i measured it, it's not too big." i grabbed it back. "it's 10 cm. exactly." then i stuck my face through and tried to make it look like i was being birthed. "waaaaaa..."

efreeyeh took the cardboard from me, and pressed the top of her head into the hole, while i said "chim chim" which is "push" in twi.

the scrap of cut out cardboard cervix kept us busy for quite a while, as we enacted all the different ways to be born, and stuck our faces turning to show eachother our hideous entry into the world. efreeyeh put her tongue through, her nose, her big eye.

we were Ma's live entertainment, and she loved it.

efreeyeh said "boneshaykaa kezzy!"

"what?"

"you are a boneshaykaa!"

"a boneshaker?"

"yes, boneshaykaa kezzy. you cut your holes too big. you make the women suffer if you expect this from them. boneshaykaa!"

i sprang up and made up a very passionate impromptu boneshaker dance, where i crouched low and shook my knees all around, threw my arms high into the sky and leaned back my head singing "BBBOOONNEEEESHHHAAKKEEERRR!!!"

Ma buried her face in the pillow and couldn't stop laughing. her whole body convulsed and the squeaky bed rattled. efreeyeh thought it was funny too, i actually hadn't ever seen her laugh that hard before. the reaction only egged me on to continue, with double the passion. this time i shook my butt too, and efreeyeh turned away from me to catch her breath. but she wasn't able.

i stopped for their sake and because i knew i was bordering ridiculous, but after 30 hours of waiting, one starts to go a little mad. relationships in this line of work seem to border more on family than on work.

efreeyeh walked behind Ma's head, where she couldn't be seen, and waved to me to look at her. then she silently lipped "boneshaykaa!" and did her own version, which was 10 times faster and more jiggly than mine. but i knew she didn't want Ma to see her boneshakin', so i had to hold back my laugh.

when the woman delivered and was resting next to her baby in the nursery, efreeyeh called me in to be with them all.

"do boneshaykaa." she said.

i wasn't really in the mood to be acting like that in front of our patients. "what? no." i replied. then i turned to walk out.

"akua, this is my friend." she said, patting the mother's back.

"so?"

"so she wants to see you boneshake."

"you first."

"akua! boneshake, i beg."

i looked at the mom, all ratty and exhausted needing a cheap thrill. i threw my arms up in the air, wobbled my knees, and did a quiet chant. she looked quite pleased to have witnessed my dance, and efreeyeh was about to break down laughing again when she looked at her friend and said "see, it's too funny."

i walked out of the nursery and went to finish the clean-up.

i thought of something sofie had told me one day while i was engaged in a water fight with some townspeople. she said, in the village she never felt like she could get away from being a doctor, from having to stay professional. "there is a barrier i can't break through."

this idea hadn't really ever crossed my mind, and when it did, it made me feel more like a kid than i had felt in a long time. i was a little embarrassed, feeling immature and unprofessional, and also incredibly relieved. relieved to be a free country.

i think she would have disapproved of my dancing.

maybe when i'm a certified midwife some newfound hubris will keep me from boneshakin'. but until then...

cozy up with seth

the last time i bought a pack of batteries in africa, pulled out 2 AA and stuck them in my discman, they didn't even last me 2 songs.

batteries here are not powerful. if you put any faith in them whatsoever, they'll let you down.

this time, i brought my own over, and i cherish them. i know each one by name, and my supply is slowly diminishing. i'm greedy with my batteries, and the devices that need them to operate.
nanakwame asks to use my headlight to walk to town, and i pour some kerosene into a lantern and hand it over to him. my headlamp takes 4 AA's.
sakola wants to look at some pictures i took of us on the digital camera, but i tell him no. it will use up too much of my precious batteries. he understands frugality.

i am a battery nazi.

just the other day i was relaxing on my mattress, indulging in the pleasures of music. i was listening to my discman weighing every song against the worth of battery juice. the picture on the screen of the discman was flashing, i had 1/3 left. i felt good about this.

i closed my eyes and exercised my ankles by spelling out the alphabet with my big toes. then i opened them, and admired how well my sprain had healed, how sexy my ankle had become.

out of the corner of my eye, i noticed my door swing open, and like kramer from seinfeld (except expressionless and depressed), seth came sliding into my room.

i sat up, kept my headphones in.

he stared at me and began talking. i tried to make out what he was saying, but i couldn't hear him so i nodded, thinking he might leave, that maybe the nod was sufficient interaction.

but it wasn't. instead, he came over and sat down with me on my bed, scooching in close. so close my left thigh and his right were pressed hard against each other and when i turned to look at him i had to pull my head back or our lips would have touched.

i paused the music.

"hi." i said.

"hello what are you listening to?"

he has a way of talking, of stringing together phrases and questions into one long vocal marathon.

"american folk music."

seth likes music, likes blasting 80's love songs at all hours of the day and night from his boombox. i like knowing seth is passionate about something, so i don't mind hearing the same cheesy songs over and over again.

"american folk music i see do you mind if i listen?"

i looked down at my ear pieces, they are the kind you lodge deep inside, the kind i hate sharing with people whose ears i don't trust. it's hard enough to trust my own ears, cleaning with Qtips is always an adventure, but seths?

"um" i said trying my hardest to think of a good reason to say no, "um... well... um...argh... okay, but you can only have 1. my batteries are running up."

i handed over the little white nob and watched as he wedged it into his big greasy ear hole. i cringed then put mine in. the wire connecting the two pieces had been manufactured in a way that forced us to move even closer together, it was too short. both our headphones were in, and our legs and arms and heads were pressed together.

it was uncomfortable at first, being that close to seth. i could feel his clammy skin and smell his dusty smell and we weren't talking. i became painfully aware of the lyrics we were listening to, of lovers falling in love, dying for one another. he was drumming his fingers against his thigh and moving his neck around to the sound of the guitar. i was sitting there wondering about this moment, telling myself to relax.

before, when i was listening alone, the song was beautiful. but now that i was sharing it i felt i had to defend myself from any implications. i pulled a blanket over my legs. i didn't want him listening to love songs and staring at my legs. i pulled my shirt up to my neck. i became very mormon. i hoped he'd leave soon, so i could daydream alone, so i wouldn't have to sit stiffly to keep my one headphone in.

while the song was starting up into another, seth mentioned through the pause that he really loved my music. "it is really beautiful." he said.

i looked at our legs pasted up against each other. mine was muscular, long, and white. his looked more like a scraggly tree branch, thin and inconsequential. then i noticed the music had cheered him to a point where even his feet and toes were moving. once i got over the fact they were rubbing brown dirt smudges all over my white sheets i saw some beauty in what was happening. seth was coming back to life.

"you like this music?" i asked, staring ahead.

"oh very much you say it is what kind of music again?"

"it's called folk music." i said.

"beautiful, beautiful."

we kept listening, through the entire 16 songs. we had almost fallen asleep on one another, lost in the melodies. the music and the time and my constant staring at his weak depressed body gave me more compassion to love him like a brother.

when it was over, we seperated and the sweat from our legs unsuctioned our stuck flesh.

he jumped up off my bed, ran over to a picture on my wall, and kissed it. "i love that girl what do you say her name is again?" pointing to my friend on the wall.

"valeria." i said, stressing the italian accent.

"VA-LAIR-IAH!" he repeated, throwing an arm in the air.

"yep."

"sounds very similar to malaria, valeria, malaria, valeria. i really love that girl it's true." then he kissed the photo again.

"well i gave you her number when you first came and you still haven't called her."

"oh i will call her, you say her name is valeria?"

"yes."

"do you think she'd take an african man?"

"any african man, or you?"

"me do you think she'd take me?"

i looked him up and down, then shrugged. "don't know. call her and ask. but to tell you the truth, i don't think she's into the whole long distance relationship thing."

he gave a pensive nod and looked around my room. i could tell he wanted to talk, wanted to hang out a bit, wanted some interaction, but i was through. i was tired of his company, but glad to have broken through some of our barriers.

"okay," i said "i'd like to be alone now."

"oh so you'd prefer for me to leave your room now?"

"yes." i said.

"sure sure." and he scurried towards my door, turning back to give the photo one more kiss, a little too juicy for my liking.

he didn't say bye, or thanks for forcing me into semi-cuddling for the past hour, or for sharing my batteries, but when he left my room and the door swung open i didn't feel the need to run and lock it. giving me that was enough.

oh the places you'll go... the people you'll meet

"you haven't ever been to the bomfiri butterfly sanctuary?" sofie was asking me.

"no, i haven't."

it wasn't that big of a deal to me. it was 20 minutes away, and because of it's close proximity i knew i would go sometime. i didn't need to fret.

"you should come along." she said.

her mother made a 2 week visit, swept through boamadumase in a day, and was continuing journeying north. "we're leaving in an hour if you'd like to come."

it sounded fun, but i was busy in my room, throwing piles of clothes and papers around, looking for my wallet. i had lost it. i bit my tongue a million times and told myself it was my fault. i had misplaced it. but every part of me wanted to blame it on seth, wanted to say he had secretly snuck into my room and taken my plane ticket and credit card. he really was out to get me, or get away.

but he wasn't.

fact of the matter is, i am disorganized and i hate to admit it. its easier to blame my roommate, the roommate who refuses to make eye contact, who walks with his head down past me on a road with just us two.

"i'm really worried about seth" sofie said when she came into my room. she wanted to talk with him before we left on our trip. "i can't go and promote health at the clinic all day, then come home to this man who is obviously sick and just ignore it. did i tell you about what i think it is?"

"no." i said.

"i think it's sleeping sickness, from the tsetse fly." she said it like she had just discovered a treasure chest, and had taken out the most rare dated coin, and was telling me it's origin.

"isn't he just depressed?" i asked.

"no, i talked to him. well, if he is he completely denied it, which is scary. depression is such a cultural thing. back home, all i do is talk to people who tell me they are depressed. but here, people don't admit it. i told him he seemed miserable and he said he was fine. but you've seen it, haven't you, the personality change?"

i double checked my bedroom doors to make sure they were locked, daily. "yes." i said. "i've seen it."

"its really bad." she said.

"i know. does he scare you?" i asked.

"no, oh no. he doesn't scare me but-"

"if you shared a bathroom with him would he scare you?"

"don't be afraid of him. what's he going to do? he's just sick. i think my new diagnosis is sleeping sickness. loss of appetite, constant lethargy, personality change..."

"i think he stole my wallet."

"what???"

i hated myself for not being able to hold that back. seth wasn't a theif but i wasn't ready to come to terms with my own weaknesses. that i would be irresponsible enough to lose my plane ticket home, and my credit card. not that Visa did me much good in the village.

"i mean, no i don't think that. but i can't find it anywhere. and i want to go to the butterfly sanctuary with you guys, i think it will be fun. but this wallet thing. i have to find my wallet."

"the taxi is leaving in an hour."

"okay," i said "i'll be ready."

i didn't find anything in that time, but decided to just forget it all. i loaded up in the taxi, which sofie had privately rented. just sofie, her mother and i, and Mr. taxi man who drove sister Yaa on her trip to Konongo Hospital. i liked this driver. i was suprised his car was still running, although, the village is full of mechanical miracles like that. last time i rode in his car, from the main road to my house, he had to get out of the driver seat every 10 feet and give his car mouth to mouth. literally. he grabbed a small black tube connected to the big metal engine , sucked until the petrol filled his mouth, then spat it down another black tube. he'd get back behind the wheel and clear the remaining petrol saliva out of his mouth with one big "hhhhcck!", then stop again to repeat the process.

and now, he was out on the road again, driving us around.

"i like this driver" sofie said "he's the only one who would give us a ride. no one else was willing to leave the village."

bush taxis prefer the bush. the big wide open asphalt road is just too much. they prefer the snaking, head jolting back roads. most of the drivers haven't renewed their licences, if they have them, since back in the 80's. their cars aren't registered and they're too poor to pay a dash (bribe) to the police. they'd rather just stay, than go.

the butterfly sanctuary wasn't far at all, and when we pulled up i was suprised i hadn't been there before!

"it's absolutely lovely!" sofie's mom said. "oh it's charming."

she was referring to the architecture of the guesthouse and the restaraunt. we humans, we like what we know. i liked it too because it reminded me of my house back home. a quaint cottage type feel.

the sanctuary was a reserve, a plot of land bought and saved from complete destruction then designed to educate. it was beautiful, trees climbing to the sky, some bushy some lanky. green everywhere, enough green my lungs dissolved into complete relaxation mode. we didn't get to see many butterflies before it was dark, before dinner arrived, but we got something better than butterflies. we got their Number One Fan.

"mind if we join you?" i asked the old man, sitting on the porch. he was sitting in one of the six plush rattan chairs that circled a low table.

he looked up, peered through his glasses, and scooted over. "no." he said. then he went back to smoking his pipe, an ancient looking thing.

there was an uncomfortable silence, of when groups join individuals. it takes a few moments to ascertain whether to be inclusive or to leave alone. its an animal moment, sniffing, checking.

everything was okay. this man wanted to talk.

"did you just arrive?" he asked no one in particular. his voice sounded like a foreign Clint Eastwood.

we all answered our different answers. then "and you? what are you doing here?"

he said- "i kill butterflies."

conversation quickly fell head deep into the subject of butterflies. granted, we were at a butterfly sanctuary, but this man was bringing it to a whole other level. i quickly concluded that if he could become one, he would gladly do so.

sofie's mom would comment nicely and generically, the way someone admiring a butterfly would do. "they're simply beautiful creatures." she'd say. then butterfly master would retort "beautiful sure!? but incredibly interesting!"

it seemed our conversation could stray only 3 paces ahead into a foreign subject, before he wrangled us back in to the winged world.

he was from Denmark and had short cropped grey hair, winona ryderish. it was actually the haircut i would pick for myself, if i had short hair. i admired it, the way it clung in short wisps and framed his face. i wanted to sneak a picture, from all angles, just in case i decided to chop mine.

he spoke with certainty, in a sort of run on sentence, as if he were conducting a small group lecture. as if we had all come to hear him.

sofie's mom thought he had an inferiority complex, which then propelled this childhood hobby into a profession and fueled the publishing of an enormous sized textbook titled "Butterflies of West Africa". he plopped it down in front of me and told me to try and find the butterfly i was mentioning to him, the one i chased down in boamadumase the other day after leaving the health clinic. it was pink and frilly, like a dream. his textbook had millions and millions of pictures lined up with names. i didn't want to look for it, it seemed to methodical a task.

his fascination, within itself, was enough to keep sofie, her mother, and i satisfied. we didn't need true interaction, observation was just fine. he was an odd man, an enthusiast. enthusiasts are generally strange in their own way, in that they love something you don't, and have devoted their lives to it.

"although, greenland has 4 genuinely resident butterflies" he said "iceland doesn't have any true residents, but they've discovered 6 species over time." because of these low numbers, he didn't like greenland or iceland. he liked west africa. he knew almost everything about the butterflies here, but i noticed when the waitress came out that he didn't know how to reply to a greeting in twi. he looked startled when the old ghanaian farmer who walked by the porch and said good evening expected a reply. "huh?" was his response, as if he had just been hit over the head with a cave man club.

it was getting dark, and the generator had popped on, igniting the porch in a false bright light, a flourescent light. we had made it through our meal of spagetti and were now digesting, listening. i spoke very little.

"i'm doing a 100 year survey of the butterflies here. we'll finish in the year two thousand one hundred. tomorrow when you go walking and you're looking for butterflies, go by the mango trees. you'll find them there. or if you find assemblages over water they're generally very big, but... 90% are the same species." he laughed, as if this was a little secret joke of his, then continued "they love the rotting mangoes. it's only 20% of the butterflies that will come to bait. fermented bananas are their favorite."

there was a pause. none of us could get a word in and we didn't need to anymore, we were all staring at the steady climb in population congregating over by the light.

"termites." he said, standing up.

i had been swatting them away as they kamakazied into my face.

he went into the eye of the termite tornado and held his hands up, looking around at the wonder of it all, as if he were under the spray of huge water fountain. "my only legacy in ghana" he said a little louder so we could hear him "is discovering a butterfly that turns 180 degrees when it lands, giving it a much better chance of escaping with it's falsehead." the termites were everywhere, he looked like he was feeding miniature pigeons, the way they were flocking. "and they are VERY sensitive to vibrations, little bit like snakes, some species are virtually impossible to sneak in on."

he snatched a termite and walked over to us. they were crawling in his hair, on his shoulders. he had it by it's wings and he held it out over the table. "they're actually quite delicious." he said. "try it."

the termite resembled a hard thick worm, the color of copper. it didn't want to be eaten, it wanted to mate like all the other termites who had dropped to the ground, and were dragging themselves around, reproducing.

i stood up and walked over.

i opened my mouth and he flicked it in.

sofie gasped. i chewed. the termite wiggled and crunched, then died between my teeth. the butterfly man was an inch away from me, delicately explaining what a delightful experience eating a termite is. "chew a little more, and really, if you can imagine it, a pan with termites, a little salt, a little pepper, some chili. lightly cook it. quite tasty?"

i was still chewing, listening to him commentate my experience, then i swallowed. "how was it?" he asked.

i nodded, lips pressed together, suprised by myself, by this willingness that sprang forward and also by taste of a termite.

it was good.

i sat back down and thought of my mom. she despises insects, mostly worms. i remembered the time we were at a dinner party, and i purposely hand delivered her a beautiful hibiscus, with a juicy worm in the middle. she was sitting on an outdoor patio, drinking wine, eating horsduevors, enjoying time with her adult friends. i was a child, filled with mischief and humor. she gave me a thankful smile, a oh-that-was-so-sweet-of-you-i-love-you-my-daughter smile, then she looked into the middle, screamed, threw the flower in the air, and cried for quite a while.

i was wanting my mom to have seen me eat the termite, only to see her face.

i joined back in listening to the conversation. butterfly man was talking about cats! the kittens that had been playing around the tree, with their mother. sofie mentioned cats get eaten here, in some parts. butterfly man said "most cats i've seen in this country, one wouldn't want to eat. they slink around like shadows- you look at them- they look at you with the full confession they're life is not worth anything, and they're sorry for that."

the night continued, with more listening, more learning of facts i'd forget in my sleep.

the next day we toured the grounds, viewed all the gorgeous butterflies. each time one of us said "oh look at that one! it's so pretty!" we'd look at each other and laugh to ourself, because we knew, it was MORE than JUST beautiful.

when we left the sanctuary, in the taxi to continue on our way, we passed our friend. he was crouched over on the side of the road, with an adult sized butterfly net and his droopy pipe hanging out of his mouth. we waved to him, and he sort of waved back, but he was too involved in observation to really care.

"strange, but interesting." someone said, and we all agreed.

collins prayer

i walked into the house.

the first steps are always the best. after having made my journey home, clear across town, down the long dusty road, across the enormous cement brick front yard in the heat of the day, walking into my house is like entering an icebox. the air is chilly inside, the walls are cool, it is dark.

i remove my shoes and the ground feels similar to if i had just dipped asphalt burned feet into a swimming pool.

and each day it is a suprise. i am still not used to it, and i love it.

i made my way down the long hallway to my bedroom door. i heard people in sakola's room so i went over to see what was happening. when i peeked my head around the corner, i realized it wasn't much. it was just collin's and sakola, resting on mats through the heat of the day, talking. sakola was in a pair of black dirty jeans and his favorite t-shirt, worn thin with holes and riddled with mold. he apparently had just come from farming.

"hey guys." i said.

they both looked over at me and raised their heads, saying hello.

i went to my room, grabbed my mat, and went to rest with them. collin's was smelling extra strong, like nursing home b.o., and his breath was thick. each time he laughed it'd fog up my space. we were lying quite close to one another. i moved back a bit, closer to sakola. he always smells fresh, even from farming.

they asked me about life. i told them about the women coming into the clinic, about all the newborns. they said they hadn't seen me in awhile and i informed them it was because of the moon. the full moon is bringing the babies in, and the clinic is busy. they laughed at me, and i wasn't sure if it was because of my logic or the way i was saying it. "the moon will become big and the babies will come."

i wasn't sleeping very well at the clinic, spending most night hours trading sleep between efreeyeh and i. two hours here, two hours there, atop an exam table. but i was happy to be working hard again. "how is she doing?" ma would bellow from the other room, from her mattress, and her deep sleep. we'd check, then yell back "a few more hours."

then she'd say "NOW YOU SEE HOW A MIDWIFE SUFFERS!." and she wouldn't awake until we called her again.

sakola asked me how my sleep was going at the clinic, and i knew he was referring to my dreams. he is very concerned about my dreams.

"i'm still having bad dreams." i told him.

"akua!" he said. pulling his head back in disbelief. "akua, is no good. you have a proh-blim."

i was slowly reading through a book on the holocaust before bedtime every night. i don't think it was helping much.

collins asked "what are your dreams?"

i told him last night i was being chased after by a man with a knife.

they both shouted "ei's!" and shook their heads. i rested mine on the tops of my folded hands and sighed. i didn't tell them about my book. i had already tried explaining the holocaust to Ma, in english, and that was hard enough. she could barely believe it, then she concluded that all germans are "very very evil." i said things have changed, but she didn't care. it was unfortunate my explanation fell on the very day sofie had invited a german doctor friend to tour our clinic. i was hoping Ma wouldn't find out she was german during the introduction. or that maybe she would, and Ma would realize they are not that different after all, but the girl never came in to greet Ma which only helped her fuel her newfound belief that all germans are evil, "they are bad kaisy, very bad."

so i kept my reading a secret from the boys, and we all layed in silence for a bit. then sakola sprung up and said "let's pray."

collin's took hold of my hands gently, cupping them between his. he has very clammy bony hands, all knuckles it seems. sakola sat next to me and closed his eyes. then he yelled out "JESUS!" in his dramatic african preacher voice, a voice that used to scare me. collins yelled out "JESUS" too. i had grown familiar with their prayer voices, which were much different than their speaking voices. i heard them every morning and every night, sometimes they spend hours in prayer.

sofie wants to know what they could possibly be praying about. "it's all they do! i've never met people who pray and go to church so much."

tuesdays, in the cocoa grove behind our house, sakola and nanakwame carry chairs to seat the group of 10 or so people who meet, sing, and pray all day. outrageous things happen back there. once sakola came back with a broken shoe, and nanakwame clothes were torn. every single time they return with their sharp looking outfits covered in dirt, sometimes mud. i think they fall on the ground and roll and shake.

i'm not used to that type of worship.

the dirtier they are when they come home, the happier they seem. the more sakola will repeat 'deliverance!' and shake his clenched fists around with a smile on his face. and it makes me happy, just as long as i don't have to fall and roll and shake.

wednesday nights the same folks meet on our porch, to sing all night.

twice a month, on Friday night, the boys and all their friends do what they call "All NIGHT", where they pray straight from 6 at night to 6 in the morning.

"akua, i won't sleep here tonite. i'm going to town for All Night." sakola will say. the next day i'll see collin's sleepy eyed. he'll tell me he had "All Night". they don't come back dirty from All Night, but i know they're working just as hard, sometimes their collective voices, travel through the village into my window.

i think the boys know i don't like a lot of shouting when i pray. every time we eat, we pray. sakola spreads his hands wide over our fufuo bowl and blesses our food. when i pray it sounds placid and flat, very WASPish, and at first he laughed at me. i explained that i'm not as dramatic as he, and he understands now. so when they began to pray for my bad dreams to disappear they kept the excitement to a minimum.

collins took control of the prayer and began "in the name of the mighty Jesus Christ, we ask that you break any stronghold that is taking over kacie in her sleep."

sakola said a "yes JESUS!"

collins continued... "we thank you Jesus, we thank you Jesus, we thank you Jesus. may your power Jesus, your power Jesus, your power Jesus, come down and BREAK any FUCKING TING. break all the FUCKING TINGS that are disturbing our friend kacie, all the FUCKING TINGS, break them! thank you in the mighty name of JESUS. AMEN."

we opened our eyes and i looked at collins, i didn't know whether to laugh or say thank you.

he had the look of an innocent schoolboy, attentive, willing, and pleased with a job well done. i was a little confused. i wasn't sure if what i just heard was really what i had just heard.

"thanks for praying for me." i said. "let me just ask you one thing. did you say 'break any fucking thing'?"

he nodded, blinked a few sympathetic blinks, then patted my hands.

"fucking thing?" i looked at sakola.

sakola laughed. "akua."

"okay, thank you so much for that prayer."

we all reclined and relaxed a little more, each in our own deep thoughts. i was thinking about a young ghanaian boy who i met in a computer lab who introduced himself as "fucking". i asked him if that was his ghanaian name or his english name. he said he chose it as his english name. i told him maybe he should rethink that one. he wanted to know why, so i tried to explain, but he was adament about being called "fucking". i didn't know any great twi cuss words to relay my example with, and he was challenging me saying names come in all different types and sizes. what one person may hate the other may like. my distaste for his was strictly a personal matter i needed to get over.

i told him most people wouldn't want to be his friend if they had to call him "fucking". he said he didn't care, all his real friends called him Fucking. and they did, i could hear them. i said okay.

"but what is your ghanaian name?" i asked.

"Kofi." he said.

when i left the computer lab that day, i yelled across the room "nice to meet you Fucking Kofi!" he gave me an i'm-busy-at-the-computer-wave and i left laughing to myself, wishing i had a friend around.


"you laughing at me?" sakola asked.

"huh?" i was lost in my daydream.

"you are laughing, why?"

"oh i was just thinking of something." i said. "something funny."