i hadn't seen Ma yet from when i was on Christmas break. i had just gone through the ordeal with Watchman and Sakola and didn't want to disrespect her too, but if she asked where her X-mas gift was i was quitting my apprenticeship.
i knocked on her gate.
"COME!" she blurted.
i walked through her patio to her front door. i could see through the screen that she was in her spot, greasin' it up.
she saw me and yelled "MY CHIIIILLDD!!! COME COME COME!" her arms were held out wide, expecting a hug. it was the first motherly hug i'd gotten in quite some time. she didn't move out of her chair to do it, but that didn't matter. i threw myself at her and just soaked up the moment. the very strange moment. she held me, and shook me and rubbed my arms a bit and then spat me out on to her couch.
"How was your Christmas in Ho?"
I told her all about it. About the waterfalls and what i ate, about the hospital and how loudly the women yell.
"and you?" i asked. "how was your Christmas?"
"OHHHHHH, it was sweet. I was with my family, they took me to Accra. We ate fufuo and celebrated. Verrry nice." She hummed for a few seconds after she said this and i could tell she was well nourished. We all needed the break apparently.
The moment fell into an awkward silence. I don't think i've had a still time with Ma that didn't follow with a quiet lull and nothing to say. I was just glad it wasn't being filled up with "What did you get me for Xmas?". Though, since she wasn't bringing it up, i thought i would. i barely knew how to communicate without the phrase somehow circulating itself into conversation.
"Ma? People have been asking me why i didn't buy them a Xmas gift and-"
"WHO?"
"well, everyone i've seen, except Secetry."
"HUMPF. I'm sorry for that. It is the Ghanaian way and it isn't good."
"am i supposed to be getting gifts for all these people?"
"NO.NO. Who says you should be getting gifts for these people? You are the foreigner. Did they get YOU anything? Don't bother with them, it is the Ghanaian way to beg. They should be getting you gifts. HUMPF."
i was glad i stopped by Ma's.
"Are you coming to work tomorrow?" she asked me.
"Yes, i will be here." i said.
"Okay then, i will see you."
and i left.
i walked through town early the next morning and a taxi buzzed by me on its way to the clinic.
YES! it was not even 9 and already i knew my day was going to be exciting. i ran through the back way, behind scattered mud houses, jumping over chickens and dodging herds of goats. i wanted to get there fast, you never knew what kind of a case was coming in.
"She's a primi." Ma said. "This will take quite some time. You can go into the office and relax. Eat your porridge."
I don't like eating before witnessing a birth. A month earlier, I didn't like eating before or after a birth, and i've lost 10 pounds because of it. although my skin is getting thicker. i am also becoming more bold with Ma.
"No, i think i'll just stay right here." i told her.
she let me and i was in the room for hours with the young lady and her pain.
Ma, Efreeyeh, and i were all gathered around, watching the head make its slow journey out. Ma sat back down and told me to tell her when it was really coming. i thought it'd be a perfect time for a picture so i muttered under my breath "i wish i could take a photo right now." originally i had planned to photo document my time here, but i don't have the personality or guts to whip out a camera at the moments i'd really like to. like now.
"Too bad you didn't bring a camera." Ma said.
"I did!"
"Well then, GO GET IT!"
"but shouldn't we ask the mother, if it's okay?"
"as for her" Ma said "she has nothing to say about it."
i wasn't sure what that meant. i ran and got my camera. i stood far away from everyone and tried to secretly take a shot.
"COME and stand here. You can't get anything from back there." Ma was standing at the edge of the table, by the woman's feet. It seemed awfully close and intrusive. But i went. I took 1 picture of the (partial) birth, 1 of Efreeyeh and 1 of Ma. Then i put the camera down and went to collect the baby. Ma was untangling the cord from around it's neck like a she was unwrapping a complicated Christmas present.
"See how the cord has done this?"
Then she clamped and cut the cord and handed the baby to me.
The little body was limp.
i waited a few seconds expecting it to surge with life and a blasting scream, but nothing happened.
"Ma the baby is soft." i said.
"Take it to the table then." she replied.
I cradled the child and went over to the newborn station. i put her down and lifted her limbs. This is what a limp baby feels like, i told myself. Is this how a child dies? Can a child die?
I knew it was possible but i couldn't imagine it happening in my world.
"Ma i don't think this baby has much life. Can you please come over here and help me?"
She walked over and assessed what was before us. I was right. She took her hand and rubbed the tiny chest furiously. I assumed she knew what she was doing. I desperately wished i had some type of schooling so that i could help too, and also to know if what Ma was doing was an ideal method or not. I thought back to a Spanish bumper sticker my college roommate had that said "Nunca sacuda una bebe. Jamas." (or something along those lines) Never shake a baby, ever.
I wondered if this rubbing would be considered shaking.
The baby coughed and blinked her eyes a bit, and came to life more than she had before, but she was still different than the rest. She wasn't thriving. Ma seemed to think it was okay, and ordered Efreeyeh to do the wash. Then we both dressed her in a blue onesie, wrapped her in a stiff white cloth, and she was handed over to me to go to the nursery. I walked half way there and couldn't do it. I didn't want to put this little weak baby alone in a crib. i walked back to Ma.
"Ma could we please let the baby be with her mom?"
"Okay. Put her on the table."
So i did.
a minute later Ma said "Alright, now take the baby to the nursery."
60 seconds was better than nothing.
I carried the baby away and sat holding her in my arms waiting for the mother to come. I examined her fingernails. They were long and really needed trimming. How was that possible? I concluded a baby with long healthy fingernails was only meant to live, so i put her away in the crib and went back to clean up.
Later i went into Maame Vic's office and told her about the ordeal. Or what i considered an ordeal.
"I don't think Ma was worried at all, but the baby was limp."
She shook her head and frowned. "In that case, you have to give the baby some medicine to help her brain, because she might go home and start twitching and have damage."
The thought saddened me. It made me want to go to Midwifery school.
"but like i said, Ma is old-fashioned in her ways. She might not recognize. If the birth is taking long, you have to be quick! Quick! Quick in delivering."
Were we too lax? Should it have been done differently? I had to remind myself that Ma in her entire lifetime as a midwife has only seen the death of 3 babies. She was experienced. It was my lack of knowledge that was plaguing me.
"Well thanks for talking" i told Maame Vic.
"Come back later and we can talk some more."
"I will." I said.
I walked out of her office and thought back to that morning. The family had flooded the maternity ward, bringing food and water, new clothes and enormous cheer. I sat in the nursery with them all, mostly to secretly observe the baby AND to see how their culture responded to a newborn and her mother.
It seemed generally the same. The new grandmother was proud and the sister was telling the new mother to EAT! A lot of others were gathered in a semicircle around the baby's bed, laughing and thankful. Not to mention they were getting a kick out of the white girl in their midst.
The biggest difference was when the taxi came back. We walked out of the maternity ward, and they let me hold the child. I kept her until they had all gotten into the car, all 8 of them. It was a "5-seater". I handed them their newest member, making that 9 people.
"Thank you so much" Grandmother said. "You should come back with us!"
I looked at the car, and the family and laughed.
"BYE!!!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!" i yelled. that baby was going to be just fine.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
trust me and take it!
Weeks ago i scared a chameleon into taking a suicide leap into the depths of the well. it splashed around for a helpless 30 seconds or so and then sunk to the great unknown. i didn't mean to and in fact i've been thinking about it ever since. not because i'm that much of an animal lover, mostly because the well is my main water source.
sakola told me he was sick and instantly i thought of the lizard. he drinks that water straight. i buy mine filtered and bagged. i asked him what hurt (i've gotten good at pretending i'm a doctor) and he patted his stomach.
when i was at senam's i too was suffering from an irritable stomach, and i assumed i had parasites. i thought back to a time when i spent a summer backpacking Hawaii with my best friend Sara. i went out dancing with friends and returned to her throwing up. our close friend who had been on the island for quite some time knew of a local remedy. skin a piece of aloe and eat it. then swallow 2 spoonfuls of papaya seeds and whaalaa!
i asked senam if there was aloe in Africa. he said of course and had some to me by nightfall. i put it in some water, and never took it due to my paranoia. i didn't see the plant it came from and wondered if there was a strand of poisonous aloe that i hadn't heard about yet. the headlines would read "WHITE GIRL DIES FROM EATING FLESH OF POSIONSOUS CACTUS" and everybody would look at each other wondering what in the world i had done that for. i wouldn't even be around to explain.
so instead i carried it a half day and 3 bus rides later into Boamadumase. i stashed it in the corner of my room and didn't think about it until Sakola was groaning holding his belly.
"stay there. i have aduro (medicine). i'm coming back."
i ran in my room and grabbed the aloe. then i went in the kitchen and got my papaya i had bought earlier that day. i was going to fix his problem and wow him with my use of all natural remedies!
he was stretched out on the ground with his eyes closed. i walked over and bent down with my goods.
he looked at me like i was insane.
i completely understood.
then i tried to explain. in twi.
once he got the gist he refused to be my patient. i yelled at him and told him he had to be! i was trying to tell him the papaya seeds wouldn't taste all that bad if he just swallowed them whole. he still would not budge, so i just kept saying the same thing over and over.
"if you take this you will feel better."
i wasn't very certain myself, still clinging to a minute worry about the plant. but i was having too much fun, i couldn't ruin it by asking if he knew whether or not the food i was about to give him was poison.
"take the papaya seed and-"
he put his hand over my mouth and said very slowly in english.
"this" he held up the papaya "is bor-efre." and then he knocked me on the side of my head.
we both laughed hard.
i had been telling him to eat the seeds of a yam for the past 10 minutes. he had been kind enough to give me the respect and act like what i was saying made sense.
"okay, whatever." i said in english. "eat the seeds."
"no. it's cold."
we had already had this conversation. he didn't like eating papaya at night or when it was cold.
"you don't have to eat the borefre, just eat its seeds."
he sat there like a child refusing his peas. then, his stomach got the better of him.
he swallowed the aloe just as i had remembered Sara doing it, with a soured face and a struggle to make it happen. then he took one spoonful of the seeds. he spit a few out through the gap between his two front teeth.
"okay" i said handing him the last spoonful.
he was convulsing his body. it was the first time i'd seen him be over dramatic.
"take it!" i yelled. i felt like Ma. she would have been proud.
10 minutes later he finished the dosage and looked at me like i had just drowned his kitten.
then i decided maybe it would be a good idea to pray for his stomach too. Sakola is a prayer warrior, and he thought it would was a fine thing to do.
"dear God" i said. i made sure to do this all in english. i didn't want him to understand. "i'm asking you to improve the state of Sakola's health, and i pray that the aloe was the kind i know of. if it wasn't, it'd be great if you could perform a miracle for me, thanks, in Jesus' name, Amen."
"Amen" Sakola said.
He woke up the next morning looking great and feeling great. His stomach had been cured. I'd like to think it was my late night nursing session, but if it wasn't that is even better.
sakola told me he was sick and instantly i thought of the lizard. he drinks that water straight. i buy mine filtered and bagged. i asked him what hurt (i've gotten good at pretending i'm a doctor) and he patted his stomach.
when i was at senam's i too was suffering from an irritable stomach, and i assumed i had parasites. i thought back to a time when i spent a summer backpacking Hawaii with my best friend Sara. i went out dancing with friends and returned to her throwing up. our close friend who had been on the island for quite some time knew of a local remedy. skin a piece of aloe and eat it. then swallow 2 spoonfuls of papaya seeds and whaalaa!
i asked senam if there was aloe in Africa. he said of course and had some to me by nightfall. i put it in some water, and never took it due to my paranoia. i didn't see the plant it came from and wondered if there was a strand of poisonous aloe that i hadn't heard about yet. the headlines would read "WHITE GIRL DIES FROM EATING FLESH OF POSIONSOUS CACTUS" and everybody would look at each other wondering what in the world i had done that for. i wouldn't even be around to explain.
so instead i carried it a half day and 3 bus rides later into Boamadumase. i stashed it in the corner of my room and didn't think about it until Sakola was groaning holding his belly.
"stay there. i have aduro (medicine). i'm coming back."
i ran in my room and grabbed the aloe. then i went in the kitchen and got my papaya i had bought earlier that day. i was going to fix his problem and wow him with my use of all natural remedies!
he was stretched out on the ground with his eyes closed. i walked over and bent down with my goods.
he looked at me like i was insane.
i completely understood.
then i tried to explain. in twi.
once he got the gist he refused to be my patient. i yelled at him and told him he had to be! i was trying to tell him the papaya seeds wouldn't taste all that bad if he just swallowed them whole. he still would not budge, so i just kept saying the same thing over and over.
"if you take this you will feel better."
i wasn't very certain myself, still clinging to a minute worry about the plant. but i was having too much fun, i couldn't ruin it by asking if he knew whether or not the food i was about to give him was poison.
"take the papaya seed and-"
he put his hand over my mouth and said very slowly in english.
"this" he held up the papaya "is bor-efre." and then he knocked me on the side of my head.
we both laughed hard.
i had been telling him to eat the seeds of a yam for the past 10 minutes. he had been kind enough to give me the respect and act like what i was saying made sense.
"okay, whatever." i said in english. "eat the seeds."
"no. it's cold."
we had already had this conversation. he didn't like eating papaya at night or when it was cold.
"you don't have to eat the borefre, just eat its seeds."
he sat there like a child refusing his peas. then, his stomach got the better of him.
he swallowed the aloe just as i had remembered Sara doing it, with a soured face and a struggle to make it happen. then he took one spoonful of the seeds. he spit a few out through the gap between his two front teeth.
"okay" i said handing him the last spoonful.
he was convulsing his body. it was the first time i'd seen him be over dramatic.
"take it!" i yelled. i felt like Ma. she would have been proud.
10 minutes later he finished the dosage and looked at me like i had just drowned his kitten.
then i decided maybe it would be a good idea to pray for his stomach too. Sakola is a prayer warrior, and he thought it would was a fine thing to do.
"dear God" i said. i made sure to do this all in english. i didn't want him to understand. "i'm asking you to improve the state of Sakola's health, and i pray that the aloe was the kind i know of. if it wasn't, it'd be great if you could perform a miracle for me, thanks, in Jesus' name, Amen."
"Amen" Sakola said.
He woke up the next morning looking great and feeling great. His stomach had been cured. I'd like to think it was my late night nursing session, but if it wasn't that is even better.
akwaaba!
Secetry informed me a German man will be coming next Saturday to live in the house.
"Has he ever been to Africa?" i asked.
"No, never."
"and he's coming here first? or is he staying in Accra for a while and then coming?"
"he will arrive at the airport and make his way up here. why?"
i was trying to put myself in the German man's shoes. the experience of transportation, and the house, and the village, and the roommates was strange enough even with my prior time spent here, i can't imagine what it will be like for him being "fresh". this is going to be really funny. i hope he has a good sense of humor. and if he doesn't at least i do.
my roommates aren't excited, which really surprised me. i thought Ghanaians were hospitable to everyone. after a long after dinner talk i deduced they didn't want a Germani bema living in the house, and that they wouldn't invite him to eat with us, ever. they would go to bed early so they wouldn't have to talk with him, and make him fetch his own water.
i was appalled.
"you are mean."
no one knew what mean meant, and Collins wasn't around to translate.
"that is bad." i said instead.
they all started laughing and pounding the table. they thought it was hilarious.
i liked seeing this other side of them. i knew i wasn't a tourist. i wasn't seeing the big smile and arms wide open. i was witnessing family talk around the kitchen table, and i decided to be the perfect daughter.
"well, when he comes i will be nice to him. what room is he sleeping in?"
they all pointed at the door in the corner.
"ohhhhhhh, you are really mean!" i couldn't hold back laughing. it was the only room in the house completely inundated with mosquitoes. if you walk in and look closely, little bloody carcasses are smashed up against the wall, after having buzzed in some body's ear a little too long. i wasn't sure who slept there now, different people walked out every other morning.
poor guy. from what i am imagining he is going to have an interesting first week.
i can hardly imagine the boys holding back their hospitality. its as much a part of them as their toenails. or at least i think it is. i guess i'll just have to wait and find out...
"Secetry? Does the health clinic sell mosquito nets?"
"Yes Kessy, we do."
"Where would i go to buy wrapping paper?"
*************************************************************************************
"Has he ever been to Africa?" i asked.
"No, never."
"and he's coming here first? or is he staying in Accra for a while and then coming?"
"he will arrive at the airport and make his way up here. why?"
i was trying to put myself in the German man's shoes. the experience of transportation, and the house, and the village, and the roommates was strange enough even with my prior time spent here, i can't imagine what it will be like for him being "fresh". this is going to be really funny. i hope he has a good sense of humor. and if he doesn't at least i do.
my roommates aren't excited, which really surprised me. i thought Ghanaians were hospitable to everyone. after a long after dinner talk i deduced they didn't want a Germani bema living in the house, and that they wouldn't invite him to eat with us, ever. they would go to bed early so they wouldn't have to talk with him, and make him fetch his own water.
i was appalled.
"you are mean."
no one knew what mean meant, and Collins wasn't around to translate.
"that is bad." i said instead.
they all started laughing and pounding the table. they thought it was hilarious.
i liked seeing this other side of them. i knew i wasn't a tourist. i wasn't seeing the big smile and arms wide open. i was witnessing family talk around the kitchen table, and i decided to be the perfect daughter.
"well, when he comes i will be nice to him. what room is he sleeping in?"
they all pointed at the door in the corner.
"ohhhhhhh, you are really mean!" i couldn't hold back laughing. it was the only room in the house completely inundated with mosquitoes. if you walk in and look closely, little bloody carcasses are smashed up against the wall, after having buzzed in some body's ear a little too long. i wasn't sure who slept there now, different people walked out every other morning.
poor guy. from what i am imagining he is going to have an interesting first week.
i can hardly imagine the boys holding back their hospitality. its as much a part of them as their toenails. or at least i think it is. i guess i'll just have to wait and find out...
"Secetry? Does the health clinic sell mosquito nets?"
"Yes Kessy, we do."
"Where would i go to buy wrapping paper?"
*************************************************************************************
Ballball!
i finally got invited to play in a game of football. soccer or "ballball", that is.
yesterday i was walking home from the clinic thinking about how i really haven't been taking advantage of all the fresh tropical fruits in the region, and that i should be eating more because before i know it i'll be gone, back in America, staring at the shriveled imported papayas in Albertons, thinking about now. while i was deep in this reflection i heard my name called a few times but decided to ignore it. the caller took the initiative and walked up to me. i instantly recognized him but i had no idea from where. i decided not to pretend and asked him "how do i know you?". he was peculiar looking, his eyebrows were permanently tilted into a defensive position and his voice sounded like he was on a whispering debate team, quietly arguing his case through conversation.
"you don't remember me?" he asked.
"no, i'm sorry i don't. where do i know you from?"
"we met at the park, a few weeks back. you said you would come to play ballball with me and my friends but i haven't seen you since."
"ohhhhhhhh ya, that's right. hello again!" i replied. "hheeeyyy, but i did come for you! you said to show up the next day at 3 and i was there. i even waited an extra hour but nobody ever came" i was acting very blase about the whole thing, but it was the 3rd time someone had promised a big game of soccer that never ended up happening. each time i got my hopes up, put on my cleats, listened to the locals laugh that a girl was planning on playing soccer, and then walked home from the "park" disappointed at being stood up once again.
"yes, okay, i recall that now." he said "well i can promise you today will be an excellent match and i am inviting you, will you come?" his palms were pressed together while he talked, and he leaned forward, lawyer-like.
"what time?"
"the match will begin in one hours time. is that okay with you?"
"yes, that's great. i'll go home and change and meet you at the field?"
"yes, i'll be seeing you."
"okay, byyyyyeeee!" and i ran off.
i went home and put on my gear. i walked over to Collin's mothers house to tell them to go to the market without me. it was Friday, market day, and we had planned on shopping together. the whole family (minus a few) was stretched out in the shade on the porch; sakola, collin's, NanaKwame, the mothers, and grandmothers. Cheif, my ghost roommate, was missing of course.
i greeted the eldest women first, working my way down through the ages until i reached collin's. he gave me his usual stretchy smile and asked if i was planning on going to play ballball.
"yes and i'm excited." i said.
sakola let out a little grunt.
"what?" i asked.
he pointed at my shorts and shook his head. i knew he thought they were too short, but it was all i had. i refused to play soccer in a dress.
"nye (it is bad)" he said. i liked how he always spoke Twi, its been my greatest teacher.
i shrugged my shoulders.
the grandmothers started swatting at the air telling sakola to be quiet, that my shorts were just fine and that i should go play and enjoy myself.
if the grandmothers didn't think my shorts were short than i had a new gauge for sakolas conservatism. sometimes he reminded me of a little old man, very certain about his likes and dislikes and enjoying days set in routine. i could tell he felt uncomfortable when i made him go out of his way, like following me to the clinic. i wasn't going to ask anyone to come to the field, they all looked too comfortable. so i gave them a little wave and disappeared.
when i got to the field i saw about 10 men my age and older sitting underneath some trees laughing. i walked over to them.
"excuse me. how are you all doing?"
'i am fine's' littered the air.
"i am glad to hear that. now, can you please tell me if this is the place the ballball game will be at, and if you are the people i will be playing with today?"
i have found that when i speak formally i am better understood than if i just blurt out a question in my comfortable voice. sometimes i long to just speak casually, but when i do no one understands. so instead, i usually just call home for that.
no one seemed to know i was going to play with them and it was apparent because they all were giving each other confused looks. i didn't see my friend from town anywhere so instead i just sat in the middle of the big group of men and waited for him to show up.
"did you come to watch?" one of the guys asked.
"no. i came to play."
"YOU. you play ballball?" he spoke in twi to all his friends and there was an eruption of commentary. my brain couldn't translate fast enough so it went on standby. i just sat there and stared.
somebody threw a ball over to me and i picked it up. ahhhh, a language i spoke!
we all ran out to the huge dirt lot, positioned at an unfair angle, full of rocks and a few shrubs and two goal posts made with tree branches. this was the village's beloved field which also happened to be one of the few places around where my cell phone receives reception.
we kicked the ball around and chatted for a bit. when they saw i at least had ball handling skills and could take a decent shot on goal they invited me to play.
"you, kayceewa, (some people have started to incorporate a "wa" at the end of my name?)you will play with us!" one of the team members shouted towards me.
i looked over and saw my friend had arrived. he was trotting in my direction.
"hello!" i yelled.
he didn't speak until he came closer.
then he said, seriously and diplomatically, "it seems you have found the place. that is good. the other team is preparing for the match, they are over there." he pointed. "i have noticed you met the team. good, good. we are the Muslims. today it is Muslims against the others. you will be on our side."
as long as it wasn't the end of the world, i was fine with that.
he continued "now, i have invited you as our guest of honor. do not shame me. you have told me you know how to play, and i am trusting you. there are two 45 minute half's. would you like to start the first, or play the second?"
"i'd like to start, if that's possible."
"yes, yes of course, it's possible. now depending on how you play you be invited to the 2nd half. so prove yourself well."
his style of speech kick started some anxiety, and i began to mentally prepare as if it was the world cup. i couldn't let them down, he trusted me! i had been playing soccer with men my entire life and this game seemed to be the pinnacle of my "career". it didn't seem like such a big deal until he had come over to me and given me that little speech.
my palms were sweaty and i had a knot in my stomach.
i was hoping we'd wear jerseys, so at least i could tell who was my opponent and who wasn't.
my friend beckoned to me "come!"
i ran over to the tree.
"now" he said "we are just waiting for the jerseys. someone has gone to fetch them from a nearby village. he will be back shortly. until then, you should prepare yourself."
i assumed he meant i should stretch, so i did, and before i knew it red shirts, black shorts, and matching striped socks were being pulled out of a huge black bag and passed around to be put on.
somebody dangled a shirt in front of me and i grabbed it.
YUCK! it was sopping wet. i threw it back and asked for another.
the second one wasn't any better, so i threw it back too.
the third selection was damp, so i held onto it as i took charge and looked for a dry shirt.
no such luck.
"did people just play in these?" i yelled out amidst the frenzy.
"they have come from game in other village." someone answered. "you need socks. take these." he strung a thin limp pair of dirty socks over my arm. i removed them promptly and thought hard and fast. how could i get around wearing these clothes? my army print shirt was the furthest thing from red, and i wanted to be easily recognized and included in the game, so i took a deep breath and pulled the shirt over my head. it stunk, like the crotch of a joggers shorts. and it was long-sleeved. i pulled the socks up over my shins and tried to not pay too much attention to how they were feeling, all clammy and sticky.
my friend walked over with some shorts in his hands. they were practically dripping.
"um i think i'll just wear the shorts that i came in." fluffing them up to make them look more attractive.
"but why? don't you wish to appear the same as the team?"
"uh, i think i'm okay. my shorts are blue and those are black, close enough."
"okay i understand." he said.
but he had no clue.
"what number do you play?" he asked me.
"i like to play center midfielder."
"what number is that?"
"i forget" i confessed. "i'm sorry we don't use numbers where i'm from. i think it is 7 or 8 or no 6?!"
he bent down in the dirt and drew a field, numbering each position for me. we figured it out, and he put me as left forward.
"are you okay with that?" he asked.
"yes."
"now remember to have the heart of a lion. these men will be rough. you hear?"
"yes." the knot came back.
the referee, dressed in his clothes from the farm, walked on the field and blew the whistle. people started running and passing and colliding. huge clouds of dust were left in their tracks and the crowd had grown from a few people watching, to hundreds. i ran around and told myself this was no different than the Saturday morning soccer i play with my men in Chico, except that i hadn't gotten the ball yet and here my name was being called out like i was a star, like i was Mia Hamm or something. and it was making me insecure.
just as negative self talk was beginning to take over i noticed a bright blue shirt at the top of the hill.
Collins had come!
He had walked the distance to the field (i'd never seen him venture that far) and was waving his crutch around enthusiastically. he was cheering me on!!!
the rest of the game went beautifully. the Muslims won and i proved myself well. i made some great passes, got tackled a few times by big gangley men and managed to walk away still in one piece.
after the game i gulped down some water, grabbed my cell phone and took advantage of the reception by calling my parents even though i had nothing exciting to say, and walked home with one of the players and NanaKwame. Collins had somehow disappeared during my phone call but i made a note to visit him the next day and thank him for coming.
"you really know how to play ballball, eiiiii!" my teammate said.
"thank you." i said "and you too, you are fast! like a cheetah!"
he thought that was funnier than it really was.
"you know, once the other team saw you were a threat, one of the men told his players to just cripple you. so they tried many times, but they couldn't. you are good. you are strong. i am surprised!"
"cripple me? isn't that a little harsh?"
"haha. no."
"so our team was the Muslims. what was the other teams name?" i had assumed they were the "Christians" but after hearing they wanted to take me out like that i didn't think that was very Jesus like, maybe a little Old Testamentish though. i should have donned a cross necklace, maybe some of them would have backed off but i had my muscles to protect me.
"i don't know their name." he said.
i looked over at NanaKwame, and he was strutting as usual. i decided to switch the subject and imitate his walk. he's confidant and wild and walks with a self-created bounce, i think for all the ladies.
apparently it works, because i always see new girls, usually in their mid-20's, claiming they just came over to get some water from our well. they bend and giggle and slap NanaKwame whenever he gets close to them. he, in return, lets out singular throaty chuckles and circles around them like a predator (pretending not to be) by simultaneously busying himself with things that don't need to be done.
i sit there and watch everything. if only they knew how much i record.
NanaKwame loved my impersonations, i could tell. he acted embarrassed, but i know he wanted more. so the entire way i bent my right leg dramatically, let it bounce up and swing around saying "yo, i'm NanaKwame. What's up?".
when we got home, i was physically tired, and needed to go to bed. that game of ballball was the first strenuous exercise i'd engaged in for months! the next day was Saturday and i was planning on doing nothing. i really needed to rest up for that. i laid down on my new bed, the floor, and fell fast asleep.
"Kessiewa?" NanaKwame poked his head by my window.
"Yes?"
"Kessiewa, good night!"
"Good night."
yesterday i was walking home from the clinic thinking about how i really haven't been taking advantage of all the fresh tropical fruits in the region, and that i should be eating more because before i know it i'll be gone, back in America, staring at the shriveled imported papayas in Albertons, thinking about now. while i was deep in this reflection i heard my name called a few times but decided to ignore it. the caller took the initiative and walked up to me. i instantly recognized him but i had no idea from where. i decided not to pretend and asked him "how do i know you?". he was peculiar looking, his eyebrows were permanently tilted into a defensive position and his voice sounded like he was on a whispering debate team, quietly arguing his case through conversation.
"you don't remember me?" he asked.
"no, i'm sorry i don't. where do i know you from?"
"we met at the park, a few weeks back. you said you would come to play ballball with me and my friends but i haven't seen you since."
"ohhhhhhhh ya, that's right. hello again!" i replied. "hheeeyyy, but i did come for you! you said to show up the next day at 3 and i was there. i even waited an extra hour but nobody ever came" i was acting very blase about the whole thing, but it was the 3rd time someone had promised a big game of soccer that never ended up happening. each time i got my hopes up, put on my cleats, listened to the locals laugh that a girl was planning on playing soccer, and then walked home from the "park" disappointed at being stood up once again.
"yes, okay, i recall that now." he said "well i can promise you today will be an excellent match and i am inviting you, will you come?" his palms were pressed together while he talked, and he leaned forward, lawyer-like.
"what time?"
"the match will begin in one hours time. is that okay with you?"
"yes, that's great. i'll go home and change and meet you at the field?"
"yes, i'll be seeing you."
"okay, byyyyyeeee!" and i ran off.
i went home and put on my gear. i walked over to Collin's mothers house to tell them to go to the market without me. it was Friday, market day, and we had planned on shopping together. the whole family (minus a few) was stretched out in the shade on the porch; sakola, collin's, NanaKwame, the mothers, and grandmothers. Cheif, my ghost roommate, was missing of course.
i greeted the eldest women first, working my way down through the ages until i reached collin's. he gave me his usual stretchy smile and asked if i was planning on going to play ballball.
"yes and i'm excited." i said.
sakola let out a little grunt.
"what?" i asked.
he pointed at my shorts and shook his head. i knew he thought they were too short, but it was all i had. i refused to play soccer in a dress.
"nye (it is bad)" he said. i liked how he always spoke Twi, its been my greatest teacher.
i shrugged my shoulders.
the grandmothers started swatting at the air telling sakola to be quiet, that my shorts were just fine and that i should go play and enjoy myself.
if the grandmothers didn't think my shorts were short than i had a new gauge for sakolas conservatism. sometimes he reminded me of a little old man, very certain about his likes and dislikes and enjoying days set in routine. i could tell he felt uncomfortable when i made him go out of his way, like following me to the clinic. i wasn't going to ask anyone to come to the field, they all looked too comfortable. so i gave them a little wave and disappeared.
when i got to the field i saw about 10 men my age and older sitting underneath some trees laughing. i walked over to them.
"excuse me. how are you all doing?"
'i am fine's' littered the air.
"i am glad to hear that. now, can you please tell me if this is the place the ballball game will be at, and if you are the people i will be playing with today?"
i have found that when i speak formally i am better understood than if i just blurt out a question in my comfortable voice. sometimes i long to just speak casually, but when i do no one understands. so instead, i usually just call home for that.
no one seemed to know i was going to play with them and it was apparent because they all were giving each other confused looks. i didn't see my friend from town anywhere so instead i just sat in the middle of the big group of men and waited for him to show up.
"did you come to watch?" one of the guys asked.
"no. i came to play."
"YOU. you play ballball?" he spoke in twi to all his friends and there was an eruption of commentary. my brain couldn't translate fast enough so it went on standby. i just sat there and stared.
somebody threw a ball over to me and i picked it up. ahhhh, a language i spoke!
we all ran out to the huge dirt lot, positioned at an unfair angle, full of rocks and a few shrubs and two goal posts made with tree branches. this was the village's beloved field which also happened to be one of the few places around where my cell phone receives reception.
we kicked the ball around and chatted for a bit. when they saw i at least had ball handling skills and could take a decent shot on goal they invited me to play.
"you, kayceewa, (some people have started to incorporate a "wa" at the end of my name?)you will play with us!" one of the team members shouted towards me.
i looked over and saw my friend had arrived. he was trotting in my direction.
"hello!" i yelled.
he didn't speak until he came closer.
then he said, seriously and diplomatically, "it seems you have found the place. that is good. the other team is preparing for the match, they are over there." he pointed. "i have noticed you met the team. good, good. we are the Muslims. today it is Muslims against the others. you will be on our side."
as long as it wasn't the end of the world, i was fine with that.
he continued "now, i have invited you as our guest of honor. do not shame me. you have told me you know how to play, and i am trusting you. there are two 45 minute half's. would you like to start the first, or play the second?"
"i'd like to start, if that's possible."
"yes, yes of course, it's possible. now depending on how you play you be invited to the 2nd half. so prove yourself well."
his style of speech kick started some anxiety, and i began to mentally prepare as if it was the world cup. i couldn't let them down, he trusted me! i had been playing soccer with men my entire life and this game seemed to be the pinnacle of my "career". it didn't seem like such a big deal until he had come over to me and given me that little speech.
my palms were sweaty and i had a knot in my stomach.
i was hoping we'd wear jerseys, so at least i could tell who was my opponent and who wasn't.
my friend beckoned to me "come!"
i ran over to the tree.
"now" he said "we are just waiting for the jerseys. someone has gone to fetch them from a nearby village. he will be back shortly. until then, you should prepare yourself."
i assumed he meant i should stretch, so i did, and before i knew it red shirts, black shorts, and matching striped socks were being pulled out of a huge black bag and passed around to be put on.
somebody dangled a shirt in front of me and i grabbed it.
YUCK! it was sopping wet. i threw it back and asked for another.
the second one wasn't any better, so i threw it back too.
the third selection was damp, so i held onto it as i took charge and looked for a dry shirt.
no such luck.
"did people just play in these?" i yelled out amidst the frenzy.
"they have come from game in other village." someone answered. "you need socks. take these." he strung a thin limp pair of dirty socks over my arm. i removed them promptly and thought hard and fast. how could i get around wearing these clothes? my army print shirt was the furthest thing from red, and i wanted to be easily recognized and included in the game, so i took a deep breath and pulled the shirt over my head. it stunk, like the crotch of a joggers shorts. and it was long-sleeved. i pulled the socks up over my shins and tried to not pay too much attention to how they were feeling, all clammy and sticky.
my friend walked over with some shorts in his hands. they were practically dripping.
"um i think i'll just wear the shorts that i came in." fluffing them up to make them look more attractive.
"but why? don't you wish to appear the same as the team?"
"uh, i think i'm okay. my shorts are blue and those are black, close enough."
"okay i understand." he said.
but he had no clue.
"what number do you play?" he asked me.
"i like to play center midfielder."
"what number is that?"
"i forget" i confessed. "i'm sorry we don't use numbers where i'm from. i think it is 7 or 8 or no 6?!"
he bent down in the dirt and drew a field, numbering each position for me. we figured it out, and he put me as left forward.
"are you okay with that?" he asked.
"yes."
"now remember to have the heart of a lion. these men will be rough. you hear?"
"yes." the knot came back.
the referee, dressed in his clothes from the farm, walked on the field and blew the whistle. people started running and passing and colliding. huge clouds of dust were left in their tracks and the crowd had grown from a few people watching, to hundreds. i ran around and told myself this was no different than the Saturday morning soccer i play with my men in Chico, except that i hadn't gotten the ball yet and here my name was being called out like i was a star, like i was Mia Hamm or something. and it was making me insecure.
just as negative self talk was beginning to take over i noticed a bright blue shirt at the top of the hill.
Collins had come!
He had walked the distance to the field (i'd never seen him venture that far) and was waving his crutch around enthusiastically. he was cheering me on!!!
the rest of the game went beautifully. the Muslims won and i proved myself well. i made some great passes, got tackled a few times by big gangley men and managed to walk away still in one piece.
after the game i gulped down some water, grabbed my cell phone and took advantage of the reception by calling my parents even though i had nothing exciting to say, and walked home with one of the players and NanaKwame. Collins had somehow disappeared during my phone call but i made a note to visit him the next day and thank him for coming.
"you really know how to play ballball, eiiiii!" my teammate said.
"thank you." i said "and you too, you are fast! like a cheetah!"
he thought that was funnier than it really was.
"you know, once the other team saw you were a threat, one of the men told his players to just cripple you. so they tried many times, but they couldn't. you are good. you are strong. i am surprised!"
"cripple me? isn't that a little harsh?"
"haha. no."
"so our team was the Muslims. what was the other teams name?" i had assumed they were the "Christians" but after hearing they wanted to take me out like that i didn't think that was very Jesus like, maybe a little Old Testamentish though. i should have donned a cross necklace, maybe some of them would have backed off but i had my muscles to protect me.
"i don't know their name." he said.
i looked over at NanaKwame, and he was strutting as usual. i decided to switch the subject and imitate his walk. he's confidant and wild and walks with a self-created bounce, i think for all the ladies.
apparently it works, because i always see new girls, usually in their mid-20's, claiming they just came over to get some water from our well. they bend and giggle and slap NanaKwame whenever he gets close to them. he, in return, lets out singular throaty chuckles and circles around them like a predator (pretending not to be) by simultaneously busying himself with things that don't need to be done.
i sit there and watch everything. if only they knew how much i record.
NanaKwame loved my impersonations, i could tell. he acted embarrassed, but i know he wanted more. so the entire way i bent my right leg dramatically, let it bounce up and swing around saying "yo, i'm NanaKwame. What's up?".
when we got home, i was physically tired, and needed to go to bed. that game of ballball was the first strenuous exercise i'd engaged in for months! the next day was Saturday and i was planning on doing nothing. i really needed to rest up for that. i laid down on my new bed, the floor, and fell fast asleep.
"Kessiewa?" NanaKwame poked his head by my window.
"Yes?"
"Kessiewa, good night!"
"Good night."
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