Dear Wonderful You who reads this blog,
I'm assuming, since you are interested in these stories, that you might be interested in the lives of the people in Boamadumase. The Huttel Health center is still in need of an ambulance.
If you would like to donate any funds (5 dollars, 10 dollars, 700 dollars, 312 dollars, 14,000 dollars) towards this please email me!
One person has donated a few hundred dollars. The price of the ambulance was not what i originally expected. It will cost close to US $6,000. We have a long ways to go but i'd like to give them an ambulance as a going away present in May, from all of us. I am writing this to start a sort of online fundraiser. Contact me if you are moved.
Sincerely,
Kacie
Saturday, January 20, 2007
more Ma tales...
it has been two weeks and the maternity ward has only gotten women at night, besides prenatals. i've stopped expecting to be called and have come to terms that nobody at the clinic will travel to get me in the dark.
the days are long, therefore, i have taken up a twice-weekly habit of sleeping on the job. it is a very Ghanaian thing to do and i'm a talented napper, so i figured what better way to fit in with the local culture?
Ma's office is getting too cold for her. it's wintertime here and everybody is decked out in sweaters and beanies. i come to work wearing a tank top.
to keep herself warm she now leaves her spot behind the desk and sits on a chair in the front room of the block. it's an open room full of direct sunlight and pink walls. There is netting covering the area of the windows that glass would typically be, and benches stacked up for the volunteer meetings on tuesdays and the baby clinic on fridays. this is also the room where families of women in labor congregate. Ma does not allow them into the back area until after the child has been born.
"why can't they just come back?" i asked.
"Hmf. It's not good." she said.
"why?"
"Because, they will disturb."
"but why?" i was like an incessant child, but i had to be. i find the more i ask why the more i annoy her, but also the more interesting the answers become. i'd rather get a juicy tale than be compliant.
"Because they will." she said again.
"yes, but WHY?"
She puffed herself up and let out her long sigh. Her hands danced around in front of her as she thought up her answer.
"because of witchcraft." she said. then she lowered her head and closed her eyes.
i hoped her eyes closed didn't mean she was through talking, because i was just beginning with the inquiry.
"witchcraft? i don't understand." i said.
"because of the local witchcraft i don't want people back there, thats why."
we sat saying nothing. i didn't want to overwhelm her with my seeming ignorance so i once again let the story leak out in it's own time. i was sure it would come if i could just be patient.
"you know..." she started up "there are witches in this place."
i was noticing how much she resembled a big fat owl perched on a branch. very intentional with her few movements, and eyes just as big.
"there are witches and witchcraft. it's not good. i've heard they'll keep the babies from coming."
she moved her hands motioning a baby coming out and then stopping.
"the witches, i have heard, will press their feet down hard to the ground, soooo hard and then the baby won't come. that is why i don't let the women scream. i want the baby to come quietly so we can go out and tell the family, he has come!"
i had two thoughts. i was warmed to see Ma acting as a protector and caring for her patients by not letting them make noise, even though i am pretty certain the baby would come either way. secondly i had to reconsider my original notion, which was- women in the village were tougher and could handle pain in a more contained fashion, so much they didn't even need to make loud sounds.
"yes the witchcraft is all over, but there is no place for it here. Hmf."
i looked over on the wall at a poster sized calendar of Jesus. He was larger than life and surreal looking. the months of 2006 were listed along the bottom of the poster. a new calendar for 2007 had been hung on the same nail in the wall. this one was of an African beauty queen and was smaller. the beauty queens face was the same size as Jesus' and had been hung over his, replacing Jesus' face with that of a woman but keeping the robe and gentle hands in place so that it looked like the white god had a new look.
i pointed it out to Ma.
i'm still not certain how well she can see, with the creeping cataracts in her eyes, but she saw what i was referring to. it looked like a cardboard Jesus cutout where the African woman had inserted her face. it was funny. i related more closely to the second image than the first.
Ma and I cracked up and she told me "you are always making me laugh."
then she went on to explain how when i had contacted Foundation Human Nature 2 years back and asked if i could apprentice with the midwife at the clinic she had said "no".
"Did they tell you?" she asked me.
"no, they didn't."
"but you kept asking. you kept calling. you were persistant. but i didn't want you to come. i even thought you were a midwife yourself. that is what Dr. Ed Gold said. He said you were a midwife."
I had made it clear i was not. I told the head of the organization i had no nursing or midwifery skills. I was simply coming to observe and learn. He said he would get back to me. i liked imagining him having to lie to get me there, coaxing Ma into believing i was qualified.
"yes, Dr. Ed Gold said you were a midwife, but even then i didn't want you. then finally they said you were still in contact and i had to let you come." she smiled at me and chuckled. a little it seemed, out of embarrasment and a little out of circumstance. i was here now and we were doing just fine, laughing and napping together.
i almost asked if she was glad now that i came, but decided to hold back. i didn't want to be openly rejected.
"do you remember the first day you came? Madame Lydia introduced you as a midwife and you said you were not?!" tides of laughter poured from her gut. "i even thought you were a midwife! turns out you are an educator!! ahahahhhaha! now you see-" she was choking on herself "how a midwife suffers. the life of a midwife is not easy, you should go back to the schools, unless you find this too interesting."
i didn't feel like i was suffering at all. i wanted to be, i wanted to be up all night till the wee hours of the morning, tending to women in need. but instead i was about to sleep on a bench.
"well i do find it interesting." i said.
"then you shouldn't waste your time here." she had gathered herself and was instructing me in some wise advice. "go to train, become qualified, and in 2 years you can return. you can be the head midwife. as for me, i will retire soon."
i liked the thought of that.
Kacie Annelise Mutscheller: Head Midwife: Huttel Health Clinic: Boamadumase.
Then i remembered the rats running atop Ma's roof. That is the resident midwifes house. Could i live years with the sound of claws scratching across metal?
I thought of babybushmeat. I had somewhat gotten used to him, our resident pet. Sure i could get used to the rats. and i would have to scrub the grease streaks off the wall.
"yeah, that sounds like a great idea. then i will get to wear a white midwifes dress like you!" i exclaimed.
"OH NO! this is senior midwifes wear. you will have to work some time before you can put on a white dress. but don't you worry you will get there. you will. one day."
"and Efreeyeh?!" i said it loud enough that she could hear me in Ma's office. "Efreeyeh and i will be a team. We'll deliver the next generation!"
I think Efreeyeh liked the thought of that although she didn't say anything.
"and i'll let her do all the circumcisions"
i immediately heard a giggle.
earlier that day a mother of week old twins had come in to have her boy circumsized. I thought i wanted to watch, so i went into the women's ward where the little baby was lying on his back. Efreeyeh was tying his legs down with a strip of African cloth. the mother was outside with the girl cradled in a white cloth. I sat at the baby's head and felt his hair. i could have been petting the belly of a bunny, it was that soft.
Efreeyeh prepared everything into a ready position; gauze, forceps, clipping devices.
i took a deep deep breath.
what continued in that next 10 minutes was too much for me to handle. the baby screamed loud and long and shook from excruciating pain. i wondered about the custom of circumsision, then i hated it.the second layer of skin was getting sliced into and i was beginning to feel weak and dizzy. i called for someone to take my place.
i walked over to the office and reclined on the mini-couch, with it's plastic covered cushions.
Secetry entered laughing. r>
"Oh kessy! You fear the circumsision! Oh Kessy!";
i told him i didn't so much fear it as i pitied the child. You couldn't offer solace to a child being mutilated and strapped down to a wooden bench.
The lab technician, Kingsley, came into the office to tease me too.
"Kacie? It seems you can't even watch. Can you? You fear it do you?? But you have to know it is the custom in Ghana. If you don't get your penis cut then you won't ever get a wife! It's true, no woman will want to marry you, even if you have one billion cedis! She will see your penis, scream, and leave you."
"it's true!!!" chimed Secetry.
"then that same boy who wasn't circumsized as a child" Kingsley was driving his point home with another example "will grow and enter JSS and everyone in school will tease him because of his penis. he won't be able to go another day with all that teasing. when he goes to the toilet, he will hide like this..." he huddled and cupped himself in the corner "he'll hide and he won't show anyone, he'll fear being beaten. i know of some children who become old, say 20 or something, and go to get circumsized so they won't feel ashamed. one billion cedis will not get you a wife if your penis is not cut, i will tell you that." then he left.
when i was in Ho, sitting with Senam in the hospital talking about life, the issue of circumsision came up. i dont' remember why but Senam told me of a child he grew up with who hadn't had it done. My dear friend explained to me how much he had made fun of the boy, for years on end. Growing up in rural Ghana, in a village, is a public affair. Your private parts are as visable at times as the bananas for sale down the road. You bathe in your yard, and your yard is public. The poor boy was teased until he was taken at 12 years old to get the skin removed.
Senam said "he didn't walk straight for weeks, and wouldn't look us in our eyes even longer than that."
the baby in the womens ward had finally quit crying and was back with his mother. when i left the room she had moved behind the corner and was biting her fist. as a future mother, i don't think i could have handled hearing all that.
i told Secetry "well when i have a baby i will not be circumsizing him. and if my husband demands it then he can bring him."
"fine fine!" he said.
i left the office over to Ma's. I wanted to be closer to women, which would bring me further away from what i had just witnessed.
A few hours later, after talking with Ma about witchcraft and midwifery, i had almost released the memory, until i hollered at Efreeyeh that she'd be taking care of all the future penis surgeries.
I think Ma had correctly read and interpreted my distaste at the idea of having to perform a circumcision. I had assumed in rural health clinics' that was a midwifes job. I was beginning to slide down the hill of self-doubt. She interuppted me by saying "as for circumcision, that is not a midwife's duty, that is why i stay in here while it is being performed. as for me i don't like it so i don't do it. don't worry kacie, you can leave that up to someone else, it is not for you. do you ever see me in the room while the baby is being cut? Never! So don't you worry."
We both closed our eyes, mine in the comfort of knowing and hers in the tiredness of old age. Together, we fell asleep on the job.
the days are long, therefore, i have taken up a twice-weekly habit of sleeping on the job. it is a very Ghanaian thing to do and i'm a talented napper, so i figured what better way to fit in with the local culture?
Ma's office is getting too cold for her. it's wintertime here and everybody is decked out in sweaters and beanies. i come to work wearing a tank top.
to keep herself warm she now leaves her spot behind the desk and sits on a chair in the front room of the block. it's an open room full of direct sunlight and pink walls. There is netting covering the area of the windows that glass would typically be, and benches stacked up for the volunteer meetings on tuesdays and the baby clinic on fridays. this is also the room where families of women in labor congregate. Ma does not allow them into the back area until after the child has been born.
"why can't they just come back?" i asked.
"Hmf. It's not good." she said.
"why?"
"Because, they will disturb."
"but why?" i was like an incessant child, but i had to be. i find the more i ask why the more i annoy her, but also the more interesting the answers become. i'd rather get a juicy tale than be compliant.
"Because they will." she said again.
"yes, but WHY?"
She puffed herself up and let out her long sigh. Her hands danced around in front of her as she thought up her answer.
"because of witchcraft." she said. then she lowered her head and closed her eyes.
i hoped her eyes closed didn't mean she was through talking, because i was just beginning with the inquiry.
"witchcraft? i don't understand." i said.
"because of the local witchcraft i don't want people back there, thats why."
we sat saying nothing. i didn't want to overwhelm her with my seeming ignorance so i once again let the story leak out in it's own time. i was sure it would come if i could just be patient.
"you know..." she started up "there are witches in this place."
i was noticing how much she resembled a big fat owl perched on a branch. very intentional with her few movements, and eyes just as big.
"there are witches and witchcraft. it's not good. i've heard they'll keep the babies from coming."
she moved her hands motioning a baby coming out and then stopping.
"the witches, i have heard, will press their feet down hard to the ground, soooo hard and then the baby won't come. that is why i don't let the women scream. i want the baby to come quietly so we can go out and tell the family, he has come!"
i had two thoughts. i was warmed to see Ma acting as a protector and caring for her patients by not letting them make noise, even though i am pretty certain the baby would come either way. secondly i had to reconsider my original notion, which was- women in the village were tougher and could handle pain in a more contained fashion, so much they didn't even need to make loud sounds.
"yes the witchcraft is all over, but there is no place for it here. Hmf."
i looked over on the wall at a poster sized calendar of Jesus. He was larger than life and surreal looking. the months of 2006 were listed along the bottom of the poster. a new calendar for 2007 had been hung on the same nail in the wall. this one was of an African beauty queen and was smaller. the beauty queens face was the same size as Jesus' and had been hung over his, replacing Jesus' face with that of a woman but keeping the robe and gentle hands in place so that it looked like the white god had a new look.
i pointed it out to Ma.
i'm still not certain how well she can see, with the creeping cataracts in her eyes, but she saw what i was referring to. it looked like a cardboard Jesus cutout where the African woman had inserted her face. it was funny. i related more closely to the second image than the first.
Ma and I cracked up and she told me "you are always making me laugh."
then she went on to explain how when i had contacted Foundation Human Nature 2 years back and asked if i could apprentice with the midwife at the clinic she had said "no".
"Did they tell you?" she asked me.
"no, they didn't."
"but you kept asking. you kept calling. you were persistant. but i didn't want you to come. i even thought you were a midwife yourself. that is what Dr. Ed Gold said. He said you were a midwife."
I had made it clear i was not. I told the head of the organization i had no nursing or midwifery skills. I was simply coming to observe and learn. He said he would get back to me. i liked imagining him having to lie to get me there, coaxing Ma into believing i was qualified.
"yes, Dr. Ed Gold said you were a midwife, but even then i didn't want you. then finally they said you were still in contact and i had to let you come." she smiled at me and chuckled. a little it seemed, out of embarrasment and a little out of circumstance. i was here now and we were doing just fine, laughing and napping together.
i almost asked if she was glad now that i came, but decided to hold back. i didn't want to be openly rejected.
"do you remember the first day you came? Madame Lydia introduced you as a midwife and you said you were not?!" tides of laughter poured from her gut. "i even thought you were a midwife! turns out you are an educator!! ahahahhhaha! now you see-" she was choking on herself "how a midwife suffers. the life of a midwife is not easy, you should go back to the schools, unless you find this too interesting."
i didn't feel like i was suffering at all. i wanted to be, i wanted to be up all night till the wee hours of the morning, tending to women in need. but instead i was about to sleep on a bench.
"well i do find it interesting." i said.
"then you shouldn't waste your time here." she had gathered herself and was instructing me in some wise advice. "go to train, become qualified, and in 2 years you can return. you can be the head midwife. as for me, i will retire soon."
i liked the thought of that.
Kacie Annelise Mutscheller: Head Midwife: Huttel Health Clinic: Boamadumase.
Then i remembered the rats running atop Ma's roof. That is the resident midwifes house. Could i live years with the sound of claws scratching across metal?
I thought of babybushmeat. I had somewhat gotten used to him, our resident pet. Sure i could get used to the rats. and i would have to scrub the grease streaks off the wall.
"yeah, that sounds like a great idea. then i will get to wear a white midwifes dress like you!" i exclaimed.
"OH NO! this is senior midwifes wear. you will have to work some time before you can put on a white dress. but don't you worry you will get there. you will. one day."
"and Efreeyeh?!" i said it loud enough that she could hear me in Ma's office. "Efreeyeh and i will be a team. We'll deliver the next generation!"
I think Efreeyeh liked the thought of that although she didn't say anything.
"and i'll let her do all the circumcisions"
i immediately heard a giggle.
earlier that day a mother of week old twins had come in to have her boy circumsized. I thought i wanted to watch, so i went into the women's ward where the little baby was lying on his back. Efreeyeh was tying his legs down with a strip of African cloth. the mother was outside with the girl cradled in a white cloth. I sat at the baby's head and felt his hair. i could have been petting the belly of a bunny, it was that soft.
Efreeyeh prepared everything into a ready position; gauze, forceps, clipping devices.
i took a deep deep breath.
what continued in that next 10 minutes was too much for me to handle. the baby screamed loud and long and shook from excruciating pain. i wondered about the custom of circumsision, then i hated it.the second layer of skin was getting sliced into and i was beginning to feel weak and dizzy. i called for someone to take my place.
i walked over to the office and reclined on the mini-couch, with it's plastic covered cushions.
Secetry entered laughing. r>
"Oh kessy! You fear the circumsision! Oh Kessy!";
i told him i didn't so much fear it as i pitied the child. You couldn't offer solace to a child being mutilated and strapped down to a wooden bench.
The lab technician, Kingsley, came into the office to tease me too.
"Kacie? It seems you can't even watch. Can you? You fear it do you?? But you have to know it is the custom in Ghana. If you don't get your penis cut then you won't ever get a wife! It's true, no woman will want to marry you, even if you have one billion cedis! She will see your penis, scream, and leave you."
"it's true!!!" chimed Secetry.
"then that same boy who wasn't circumsized as a child" Kingsley was driving his point home with another example "will grow and enter JSS and everyone in school will tease him because of his penis. he won't be able to go another day with all that teasing. when he goes to the toilet, he will hide like this..." he huddled and cupped himself in the corner "he'll hide and he won't show anyone, he'll fear being beaten. i know of some children who become old, say 20 or something, and go to get circumsized so they won't feel ashamed. one billion cedis will not get you a wife if your penis is not cut, i will tell you that." then he left.
when i was in Ho, sitting with Senam in the hospital talking about life, the issue of circumsision came up. i dont' remember why but Senam told me of a child he grew up with who hadn't had it done. My dear friend explained to me how much he had made fun of the boy, for years on end. Growing up in rural Ghana, in a village, is a public affair. Your private parts are as visable at times as the bananas for sale down the road. You bathe in your yard, and your yard is public. The poor boy was teased until he was taken at 12 years old to get the skin removed.
Senam said "he didn't walk straight for weeks, and wouldn't look us in our eyes even longer than that."
the baby in the womens ward had finally quit crying and was back with his mother. when i left the room she had moved behind the corner and was biting her fist. as a future mother, i don't think i could have handled hearing all that.
i told Secetry "well when i have a baby i will not be circumsizing him. and if my husband demands it then he can bring him."
"fine fine!" he said.
i left the office over to Ma's. I wanted to be closer to women, which would bring me further away from what i had just witnessed.
A few hours later, after talking with Ma about witchcraft and midwifery, i had almost released the memory, until i hollered at Efreeyeh that she'd be taking care of all the future penis surgeries.
I think Ma had correctly read and interpreted my distaste at the idea of having to perform a circumcision. I had assumed in rural health clinics' that was a midwifes job. I was beginning to slide down the hill of self-doubt. She interuppted me by saying "as for circumcision, that is not a midwife's duty, that is why i stay in here while it is being performed. as for me i don't like it so i don't do it. don't worry kacie, you can leave that up to someone else, it is not for you. do you ever see me in the room while the baby is being cut? Never! So don't you worry."
We both closed our eyes, mine in the comfort of knowing and hers in the tiredness of old age. Together, we fell asleep on the job.
no men, just fufuo please
being a white woman in Ghana, i stand out. people want to "take me" as their wife before they even know my name. i can sit down in the shade for a brief moment and be approached by a man who wants to marry me because he loves me and he especially loves my country.
"really?" i say.
"yes, it is true my sweetie." he'll/they'll say.
"what country is it that you love so much?"
"your country."
"and where am i from?" i'll ask.
"i don't know."
the requests are so frequent that i've been considering going to a shop to have a t-shirt made. one side, the front side, will say "yes i will be your friend" and then the back side will say "no i will not marry you."
the other day i took a short ride on a tro tro to a local city. the car pulled up to my stop and just as i was alighting the vehicle a man that had been sitting in front of me for the past 30 minutes turned around and reached for my hand.
i had been admiring his stylish hat and paying close attention to what his almond eyes found interesting along the way. he stared at a huge oil rig that had been toppled over for quite some time. i was used to this drive, i knew the bends and corners that haphazard drivers wouldn't make it around and when they didn't i stared at the results for weeks. no one here is in a real hurry to clean up an accident scene, instead people use the debris as lounging areas, play structures, and shade. the man made a disapproving sound when he saw it. most locals don't take special note the way he did, so i questioned for a few miles whether he was a foreigner too. but when he asked me for my telephone number as i was stepping out of the trotro, his accent was Ghanaian.
i was in a funny mood that day. i was tired of routine. tired of telling people that i only wanted them as my friend, tired of being begged. the car was waiting for me to leave it, the man no longer had a hold of me, and all the passengers were listening to whether or not i was going to give this random person my telephone number.
"my number?" i asked. "why of course! do you have a pen?"
he scrambled through his bag as the tro tro inched forward, eager to leave. a few people in the car let some laughs loose and i stepped back to look at what i was doing.
why was i giving this man my number? i looked over at him and realized it was because i liked his hat, it had some sex appeal and was tilted to the side, which to me signified he had flair and personality.
he couldn't find a pen but someone from the back of the car lent him theirs.
"024" i said "6268924. and my name is Kacie."
"okay great, i'm Morrison, i'll be contacting you soon."
they all sped off, i heard him shout a goodbye through his window while i physically and mentally prepared to cross the busy street. i didn't have time to think about what i had just done, i had to dodge cars and buses first. sometimes i feel like i am living the real life version of Frogger.
when i got to the other side i started laughing. i felt a new sense of freedom. i didn't have to tell people no all the time, instead i could start saying yes. i pictured how life would be if i started handing out my number like it was Halloween candy. maybe i would find a husband? maybe our "how we met" story would lack 'soul mate romanticism and appeal' maybe instead it would be more dry and practical. i would tell people i had handed out my telephone number for years on public transportation until i had established some type of mutual connection with one of my recipients. then we got married.
i considered blind dating. this was no worse, or no better, depending on how you see it. and after all, Ghana is a big country and i didn't have to pick up my phone.
1 hour after i had been in the city i got a phone call from Morrison. He was just checking up on me.
"well, i'm doing just fine, thanks." then i hung up.
the next hour i got another phone call.
"still doing great, thanks." i said.
that night when i got back to the village i received a text message.
DEAREST KACIE. I KNOW YOU DO NOT KNOW ME BUT I CAN GUARANTEE I WILL MAKE YOU A GREAT FRIEND. DON'T FORGET ME. I WANT TO KNOW YOUR MIND. YOUR FRIEND, MORRISON.
i was tired and wasn't going to try and analyze it, the part about knowing my mind. tomorrow i would be leaving for a 2 day trip to Kumasi, a city with a lot of culture, history, and American food. At this point, the meals i had been dreaming about were what interested me most. i was going to eat something familiar and colorful.
the next day i checked into the guesthouse, declined the receptionist a marriage proposal, and found my room.
the sound my cell phone makes when i have an incoming message is similar to a cheap soundtrack of a sci-fi movie, or a scene from some after school special right when the ufo's land. i try to keep my phone on low because i don't know how to switch it and the noise embarrasses me. but no one was in my room so i didn't have to worry. i read the note.
HEY KACIE ITS MORRISON YOUR FRIEND. WISHING TO BE IN CONTACT.
i considered his salutation. "hey". it was slang, so if i did ever meet up with him at least we'd be able to converse freely.
my phone rang and i picked it up.
"Kacie? Kacie?" the background noise of where the caller was at, whom i assumed was Morrison, was scratchy and loud.
"yes this is kacie."
"Kacie where are you?"
"i'm in Kumasi."
"OH REALLY! that is wonderful. i am here in Kumasi also. i stay here. i'd like to meet with you sometime. when can i see you?"
i wasn't aware he was from Kumasi, i probably wouldn't have told him i was there if i knew.
"well" i had to think quick. "well i have a lot of work to do. i came just for a short time, i'm applying to colleges and will be busy for quite awhile on the computer. i don't think-"
the phone hung up.
i packed my bag with essentials for a day out on town; toilet paper, malaria meds, money, pen and paper then i headed over to the Internet lab.
when i was inside, fully engrossed in writing an application essay, i got another call.
"where are you kacie?"
"who is this?" i thought stalling the inevitable was my best choice.
"this is your friend Morrison."
"oh hello. how are you?"
the way cell phones work here is through units. the user buys a scratch card that equals up to a certain amount of time in units. when you call someone your units begin to deduct. most people are very low on units, due to lack of money. they call, typically greet the person on the other line, and state what they need to say. Then they hang up. i thought if i talked long enough about nothing his time would run up and i would never have to awkwardly reject a date.
"where are you?" he asked.
"oh, you see, i'm on the computer at an Internet cafe, and i don't know where i am."
i was annoying the people in the room. i was trying to speak low but it was still quite obvious i was on the phone. someone leaned over to me and told me where i was at.
"okay great, i'm coming." Morrison said right before he hung up.
he had heard my neighbor. they had informed him unintentionally of my hideout. now i was stuck. i couldn't leave my project, it was holding me hostage, so instead i said a little prayer.
dear God, help me, untangle my mess. i don't want to date this man.
for some strange reason i stopped focusing on my work on screen in front of me and started worrying about the reflection. i checked my teeth and smoothed my hair. i typed a line and then straightened my posture. i wanted to look cute typing when he walked in.
i looked around and realized how ridiculous this all was. i was primping for a person i was trying to reject, but it didn't stop me.
i was fully aware when he walked in behind me, i saw him on the screen. he swooped in and bent down on one knee lowering himself to my side, like a prince.
"keeesssyy" he said. when i focused in on him, he suddenly didn't look so much like royalty. he was sweating and trembling and his eyeballs looked like they were shaking around in their sockets. i repeated my previous prayer.
"helloooooo ohh it iss ssooo goood too see youu."
his voice was gremlinish and i wanted to get away from it.
he grabbed my hand and lifted it up to his eager lips. i was instantly mortified.
please god don't let him kiss my-
"mmmwwwkkk!"
he did it.
my whole body cringed and i wondered where the nearest sink was. i had already planned a hand washing session.
"ohh kessy, when yyyyoouu are donne lett's gett togethher, okayy?"
i gave him a very strong but sympathetic look. "i am very sorry but i will be here until the place closes. i surely don't have time today. i apologize."
it was early in the morning and the lab closed late at night, i was lying and it was obvious. no one spends 15 hours in a computer lab.
"weeelll theen maybe i''lll cooome bacck in 30 minnuttes and waiit."
he looked obsessed.
i tried to dissuade his return but he would have none of it.
after he left i quickly typed up answers to the midwifery college i am trying to get into.
question number 8- please describe your current relationship with the Lord.
question number 9- please describe your relationship with your family.
question number 10- what do you believe your strengths as a midwife will be.
i was thoughtful and truthful and typing like crazy. i wanted to get out of there before he came back. i was putting all my faith into him operating in "African time". that would mean his half hour arrival would really come in 1 hour or longer. i was pleasantly surprised by the speed and fluency of my answers. they were what i would have typed had i been sitting and pondering all day long.
i dotted my last i's and crossed my t's and got the hell out of there. i grabbed all my things in one big swoop and ran out the door down the street. the day had turned busy, people were everywhere, taxis buzzing around beeping at me and all the other pedestrians. i ran past everything, taking in nothing, knowing the further away i got the less of a chance of me getting caught again in the presence of that guy.
i ran past an expat hangout, made a quick u turn, and entered it like i was dying of thirst and had just reached a waterfall. i found a table close to the corner and huddled down with my papers and relief.
a menu came floating down to me, like an autumn leaf falling. it landed in my lap and i studied it in complete peace. i was safe.
the waiter came over and asked me what i'd like.
"first," i said "i'd like to wash my hands. is there a place i can do that?"
he pointed to a sink in the corner.
"okay" i said "i can't decide quite yet, my mind will clear once my hands are clean. please come back to me."
i walked back to the sink, but had to special request soap. somebody brought me a huge squirt bottle full, it was the color of 4 leafed clovers and leprechauns. i filled my palms up and rubbed ferociously.
i was thankful.
thankful to be where i was at, alone, doing what i was doing.
i walked back to my table and sat down. i looked at the menu again and a strange craving came over me.
none of the food looked appetizing.
i wanted fufuo. my body wanted fufuo.
the waiter made his second round and looked at me expectantly.
"okay, well, i guess i'll get a Hawaiian pizza."
he nodded.
"but wait-" he was leaving and i just had to know. "you don't by any chance have fufuo, do you?"
"we do not."
"oh okay, never mind. pizza will be just fine."
i sat back and relaxed. i thanked God for my clean hands and deliverance and decided i wasn't going to hand out my number to strangers anymore, the excitement of it all was just too much.
"really?" i say.
"yes, it is true my sweetie." he'll/they'll say.
"what country is it that you love so much?"
"your country."
"and where am i from?" i'll ask.
"i don't know."
the requests are so frequent that i've been considering going to a shop to have a t-shirt made. one side, the front side, will say "yes i will be your friend" and then the back side will say "no i will not marry you."
the other day i took a short ride on a tro tro to a local city. the car pulled up to my stop and just as i was alighting the vehicle a man that had been sitting in front of me for the past 30 minutes turned around and reached for my hand.
i had been admiring his stylish hat and paying close attention to what his almond eyes found interesting along the way. he stared at a huge oil rig that had been toppled over for quite some time. i was used to this drive, i knew the bends and corners that haphazard drivers wouldn't make it around and when they didn't i stared at the results for weeks. no one here is in a real hurry to clean up an accident scene, instead people use the debris as lounging areas, play structures, and shade. the man made a disapproving sound when he saw it. most locals don't take special note the way he did, so i questioned for a few miles whether he was a foreigner too. but when he asked me for my telephone number as i was stepping out of the trotro, his accent was Ghanaian.
i was in a funny mood that day. i was tired of routine. tired of telling people that i only wanted them as my friend, tired of being begged. the car was waiting for me to leave it, the man no longer had a hold of me, and all the passengers were listening to whether or not i was going to give this random person my telephone number.
"my number?" i asked. "why of course! do you have a pen?"
he scrambled through his bag as the tro tro inched forward, eager to leave. a few people in the car let some laughs loose and i stepped back to look at what i was doing.
why was i giving this man my number? i looked over at him and realized it was because i liked his hat, it had some sex appeal and was tilted to the side, which to me signified he had flair and personality.
he couldn't find a pen but someone from the back of the car lent him theirs.
"024" i said "6268924. and my name is Kacie."
"okay great, i'm Morrison, i'll be contacting you soon."
they all sped off, i heard him shout a goodbye through his window while i physically and mentally prepared to cross the busy street. i didn't have time to think about what i had just done, i had to dodge cars and buses first. sometimes i feel like i am living the real life version of Frogger.
when i got to the other side i started laughing. i felt a new sense of freedom. i didn't have to tell people no all the time, instead i could start saying yes. i pictured how life would be if i started handing out my number like it was Halloween candy. maybe i would find a husband? maybe our "how we met" story would lack 'soul mate romanticism and appeal' maybe instead it would be more dry and practical. i would tell people i had handed out my telephone number for years on public transportation until i had established some type of mutual connection with one of my recipients. then we got married.
i considered blind dating. this was no worse, or no better, depending on how you see it. and after all, Ghana is a big country and i didn't have to pick up my phone.
1 hour after i had been in the city i got a phone call from Morrison. He was just checking up on me.
"well, i'm doing just fine, thanks." then i hung up.
the next hour i got another phone call.
"still doing great, thanks." i said.
that night when i got back to the village i received a text message.
DEAREST KACIE. I KNOW YOU DO NOT KNOW ME BUT I CAN GUARANTEE I WILL MAKE YOU A GREAT FRIEND. DON'T FORGET ME. I WANT TO KNOW YOUR MIND. YOUR FRIEND, MORRISON.
i was tired and wasn't going to try and analyze it, the part about knowing my mind. tomorrow i would be leaving for a 2 day trip to Kumasi, a city with a lot of culture, history, and American food. At this point, the meals i had been dreaming about were what interested me most. i was going to eat something familiar and colorful.
the next day i checked into the guesthouse, declined the receptionist a marriage proposal, and found my room.
the sound my cell phone makes when i have an incoming message is similar to a cheap soundtrack of a sci-fi movie, or a scene from some after school special right when the ufo's land. i try to keep my phone on low because i don't know how to switch it and the noise embarrasses me. but no one was in my room so i didn't have to worry. i read the note.
HEY KACIE ITS MORRISON YOUR FRIEND. WISHING TO BE IN CONTACT.
i considered his salutation. "hey". it was slang, so if i did ever meet up with him at least we'd be able to converse freely.
my phone rang and i picked it up.
"Kacie? Kacie?" the background noise of where the caller was at, whom i assumed was Morrison, was scratchy and loud.
"yes this is kacie."
"Kacie where are you?"
"i'm in Kumasi."
"OH REALLY! that is wonderful. i am here in Kumasi also. i stay here. i'd like to meet with you sometime. when can i see you?"
i wasn't aware he was from Kumasi, i probably wouldn't have told him i was there if i knew.
"well" i had to think quick. "well i have a lot of work to do. i came just for a short time, i'm applying to colleges and will be busy for quite awhile on the computer. i don't think-"
the phone hung up.
i packed my bag with essentials for a day out on town; toilet paper, malaria meds, money, pen and paper then i headed over to the Internet lab.
when i was inside, fully engrossed in writing an application essay, i got another call.
"where are you kacie?"
"who is this?" i thought stalling the inevitable was my best choice.
"this is your friend Morrison."
"oh hello. how are you?"
the way cell phones work here is through units. the user buys a scratch card that equals up to a certain amount of time in units. when you call someone your units begin to deduct. most people are very low on units, due to lack of money. they call, typically greet the person on the other line, and state what they need to say. Then they hang up. i thought if i talked long enough about nothing his time would run up and i would never have to awkwardly reject a date.
"where are you?" he asked.
"oh, you see, i'm on the computer at an Internet cafe, and i don't know where i am."
i was annoying the people in the room. i was trying to speak low but it was still quite obvious i was on the phone. someone leaned over to me and told me where i was at.
"okay great, i'm coming." Morrison said right before he hung up.
he had heard my neighbor. they had informed him unintentionally of my hideout. now i was stuck. i couldn't leave my project, it was holding me hostage, so instead i said a little prayer.
dear God, help me, untangle my mess. i don't want to date this man.
for some strange reason i stopped focusing on my work on screen in front of me and started worrying about the reflection. i checked my teeth and smoothed my hair. i typed a line and then straightened my posture. i wanted to look cute typing when he walked in.
i looked around and realized how ridiculous this all was. i was primping for a person i was trying to reject, but it didn't stop me.
i was fully aware when he walked in behind me, i saw him on the screen. he swooped in and bent down on one knee lowering himself to my side, like a prince.
"keeesssyy" he said. when i focused in on him, he suddenly didn't look so much like royalty. he was sweating and trembling and his eyeballs looked like they were shaking around in their sockets. i repeated my previous prayer.
"helloooooo ohh it iss ssooo goood too see youu."
his voice was gremlinish and i wanted to get away from it.
he grabbed my hand and lifted it up to his eager lips. i was instantly mortified.
please god don't let him kiss my-
"mmmwwwkkk!"
he did it.
my whole body cringed and i wondered where the nearest sink was. i had already planned a hand washing session.
"ohh kessy, when yyyyoouu are donne lett's gett togethher, okayy?"
i gave him a very strong but sympathetic look. "i am very sorry but i will be here until the place closes. i surely don't have time today. i apologize."
it was early in the morning and the lab closed late at night, i was lying and it was obvious. no one spends 15 hours in a computer lab.
"weeelll theen maybe i''lll cooome bacck in 30 minnuttes and waiit."
he looked obsessed.
i tried to dissuade his return but he would have none of it.
after he left i quickly typed up answers to the midwifery college i am trying to get into.
question number 8- please describe your current relationship with the Lord.
question number 9- please describe your relationship with your family.
question number 10- what do you believe your strengths as a midwife will be.
i was thoughtful and truthful and typing like crazy. i wanted to get out of there before he came back. i was putting all my faith into him operating in "African time". that would mean his half hour arrival would really come in 1 hour or longer. i was pleasantly surprised by the speed and fluency of my answers. they were what i would have typed had i been sitting and pondering all day long.
i dotted my last i's and crossed my t's and got the hell out of there. i grabbed all my things in one big swoop and ran out the door down the street. the day had turned busy, people were everywhere, taxis buzzing around beeping at me and all the other pedestrians. i ran past everything, taking in nothing, knowing the further away i got the less of a chance of me getting caught again in the presence of that guy.
i ran past an expat hangout, made a quick u turn, and entered it like i was dying of thirst and had just reached a waterfall. i found a table close to the corner and huddled down with my papers and relief.
a menu came floating down to me, like an autumn leaf falling. it landed in my lap and i studied it in complete peace. i was safe.
the waiter came over and asked me what i'd like.
"first," i said "i'd like to wash my hands. is there a place i can do that?"
he pointed to a sink in the corner.
"okay" i said "i can't decide quite yet, my mind will clear once my hands are clean. please come back to me."
i walked back to the sink, but had to special request soap. somebody brought me a huge squirt bottle full, it was the color of 4 leafed clovers and leprechauns. i filled my palms up and rubbed ferociously.
i was thankful.
thankful to be where i was at, alone, doing what i was doing.
i walked back to my table and sat down. i looked at the menu again and a strange craving came over me.
none of the food looked appetizing.
i wanted fufuo. my body wanted fufuo.
the waiter made his second round and looked at me expectantly.
"okay, well, i guess i'll get a Hawaiian pizza."
he nodded.
"but wait-" he was leaving and i just had to know. "you don't by any chance have fufuo, do you?"
"we do not."
"oh okay, never mind. pizza will be just fine."
i sat back and relaxed. i thanked God for my clean hands and deliverance and decided i wasn't going to hand out my number to strangers anymore, the excitement of it all was just too much.
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