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"andrew and i are traveling this weekend if you'd like to come?"

i thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea to leave the village, it had been quite some time since i took a short vacation and i wouldn't mind tagging along. "where do you plan on going?" i asked.

"we want to go a little north of kumasi and visit a monkey sanctuary and some waterfalls, then go and see this project that Andrew is quite interested in. yeah?"

"okay, sure!" i hadn't been to any of those places, and trusted Andrew's interests- even though i had no idea what this 'project' would be. it'd be nice to see something new.

"i heard you can swim there, at the waterfalls." she said.

the idea of dunking myself in a body of water was exhilarating. we both let loose our widest whitest grins, knowing how simply luxurious this could be.

"we'll leave after work on friday and take monday off. does that work for you?"

"yep."

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

when friday rolled around i let auntie know we wouldn't be there that weekend, and really i wasn't sure if she would care either way.

sakola wanted to be certain of all our travel details.

on my walk home from work i stopped over at collins house to say goodbye. "travel safe." he said.

"thanks collins."

he laughed. i can tell he thinks i'm really funny, but it's nothing i do on my own accord, my presence makes him burst out in glee. in some ways i feel like his favorite carnival ride, with an ego.

"hey where is nanakwame?" i asked.

"nanakwame, he, he is working today." and he pointed in the direction of the road.

nanakwame had just recently been hired as a mate, which was proving to be full time work. he hadn't been around for the past week, but i managed to cross his path if he came home late and i hadn't left his new place to go back to mine to sleep.

every tro tro in ghana has what is called "a mate". a mate is an integral person in the tro tro business. he is equally as important as the driver and more accessible. the way a chief has a linguist, a driver has a mate. all inquiries, complaints, and conversation should be directed to him.

a mate's job requires many things; hanging out the window announcing to crowds where the car is headed, taking money from all the passengers, changing flat tires, keeping the peace inside a tro tro, etc.

to catch a ride on a tro tro, one must only pay special attention to the mate, what he is saying and what his hands are doing as the car whizzes past. if the car is headed to accra, he'll point his hand far out ahead of him and wave it from front to back screaming "KRA KRA KRA KRA KRA!". if this is the destination you desire you stick out your arm and wiggle your hand around. the car will then pull over where ever you are standing and let you in.

i don't trust many mates. they tend to be sneaky and conniving. they always charge me extra because i'm white. i hand them my bill and they "forget" to give me my full change. they think they will get away with it until i remind them in a car full of 16 people. i like to sit in the middle, so i yell this to the front through everybody's ears.

"i might not be Ghanaian, but i do know the fare. you are cheating me, give me my change please."

i say this all in perfect twi, and on good days with a smile. once everybody hears me nobody holds back. the car bursts out in clapping and laughter, the mate is shamed for a second or two, and then i receive about 10 'you have done well's!'.

i thought about nanakwame, he's mischievous and sneaky, in an adorable way. i don't think he'd try to cheat me.

sofie hadn't gotten to know nanakwame yet, "he was always at work" she said.

"he just got this job." i replied, hoping he hadn't disappeared from my life forever.

it was strange to not have him around in my every day, and i was missing his palpable energy, but i was glad for him. work is not always easy to come by here, so i know it was making him happy.

i looked back at collins as i walked away. "tell nanakwame, when he gets home from work, that i say hi and bye and i'll be back on monday, sofie and i are leaving the village to travel with andrew."

"okay! see you!!!" he yelled back.

the weekend had officially begun, and i was looking forward to the adventure.

corinthians comes to the rescue

sofie was dissecting the clinic, the way a good high school biologist would pick apart a dead frog.

on her second day at work, she pinpointed exactly who performed which duties and asked them each separately to explain to her what those were. then she skillfully interviewed them of any complaints they may have within their role and possible ways to solve them.

secetry talked about local villages needing boreholes dug and schools put in. she took notes and brainstormed ways to take steps to make that happen.

ma was upset she wasn't able to watch television. she also wanted to be given a moped. the vision of that made me laugh, but sofie maintained complete composure.

i watched her with each person and took special note of how she communicated. i liked the way she listened, it looked effortless and truly involved. somehow she conveyed extreme concern without wrinkling any part of her face. i decided she was beautiful.

her drive made me self-conscious. i stopped napping at work, and instead sat around and listened to her verbalize her visions.

she taught us all an early morning lesson on family planning, and had excellent teaching skills as well. Ma even noticed and asked me if sofie was a teacher back home. "no." i said, but Ma wouldn't believe it. "but she is very good at teaching, she must be a teacher." she said again.

her style was relaxed and down to earth, but she was pumped full of education, you could just tell. but deeper than that, there was something i couldn't quite figure out. it was the reason why i liked her so much. it was real, it was also elusive.

after lunch i sat in the office, typing stories and feeling a little useless at the clinic. benches were full of sick patients or people afflicted by mistakes or their own carelessness. sofie recommended i watch the suturing of the gash in a farmers knee, i would be doing a similar thing as a midwife one day. that was happening in the dressing room. i went in shortly and observed but the needle was so blunt and efreeyeh's hands were struggling to pierce through the flesh and i was beginning to feel a bit uneasy, so i left.

ma was perched, keeping close watch on the empty maternity ward and occasionally snoozing.

vera was busy in the dispensary, drug dealing and handling cash.

kingsley had his eye glued to the microscope, excited by the spotting of malaria parasites and handing in his results to Madame vic and Sophie, who set up treatment plans and helped people venture back towards health.

secetry was running around, filling out papers, doing errands, being a secetary.

i felt like a fish out of water, so retreated to the office and spent time with my close friend, the laptop. from time to time i would look out the window and realize i had no expertise to help any of the people i was spying on. why was i at this clinic?

i reminded myself of my mission. i wasn't coming to study medicine, or tropical disease, or even nursing. i was here to submerge myself in the life of midwifery. but still, i felt like a leech at best, a fraud at worst. i wasn't "helping", and i had ghosts from home whispering in my ears.

"kacie, you are amazing. going to a place like africa to help the poor."

"you're in our thoughts, you are such a humanitarian. you are one special girl."

i didn't come over here with those intentions, but somehow got pigeon holed into a certain category i had no place being included in. if only these people knew the truth. if only they knew i sat idly while villagers lined up to receive help from the real heroes.

i was having a hard time being easy on myself, when there wasn't a pregnant woman in sight to remind me of my goals, and the day was growing long.

sofie came in for a lunch break once the clinic cleared up a bit.

she sat back on the couch and asked me in between bites "do you know how to touch type?"

the question seemed funny, like asking if i knew how to skip.

"ya." i said, lowering my screen a bit so i could properly look at her.

some time passed with no conversation, so i continued typing. then i stopped again and asked her "did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?" expecting a firm 'yes' as a reply.

"no" she said "i decided 2 weeks before going into uni."

"really?" i laughed.

"i wanted to study history but i'm actually really horrible at reading and writing, so i picked medicine instead. there isn't much reading in medicine."

i was taken aback.

"and i'm horrible at spelling." she said.

come to mention it, i had noticed her spelling errors on the chalkboard during her morning health lessons. subconsciously i didn't believe a GP was allowed to be a bad speller, so i passed them off as awkward abbreviations.

i was feeling less bad about not being a doctor.

"i'm severely dyslexic." she said.

i was completely interested in whatever she had to say, so i just stayed silent.

"i moved to the uk from switzerland when i was 12 and i didn't speak any english. my teachers just kept saying my being dyslexic was because i was learning a new language, so i went through testing and the results were actually quite horrendous." her face had changed. it seemed more stiff and protected. all that she was sharing had brought out her vulnerable side. she stuttered a bit, not sure if she should keep going. "the specialist, he- yah. well, he-" ... "his diagnosis was really quite awful. he said somebody with the severity of my disability would be unlikely to pursue higher education. when i read that i thought 'stuff it' and worked like mad to get really high marks. then i applied to oxford!"

we both laughed.

"did you get in?" i asked.

"no, but i went to cambridge, which is still quite a good school. but really, i think most doctors are insecure and feel the need to prove themselves, if i hadn't i wouldn't have been able to make it through school. so i look at my learning disability as a blessing in a way, because if i didn't have it i'm sure i wouldn't be a doctor. i would have been satisfied with my intelligence and became lazy."

more silence, then...

"but growing up i was completely insecure about reading in class out loud or just reading in general, really. i hated it. it took me ages to finish a book and i still have a really difficult time with it."

that explained why Andrew, her boyfriend, read novels aloud to her when he came to visit on the weekends. i thought it was cute, but now it was sweet for entirely different reasons.

"in uni i met a friend who was just like me. we both had a really hard time remembering things, so we'd study together and draw pictures and memorize information in creative ways, which helped a lot..."

"...but i was told its good for dyslexic people to learn how to touch type, for some reason or another, i forget. maybe that can be one of my focuses while i'm here, can you teach me?"

"sure?!"

"have you ever taught touch typing before?"

"no, i haven't, but we can think something up."

she ran over to the desk and turned the computer and put her hands on the keys.

"oh now?" i asked.

"or whenever." she said self-consciously.

"now is fine" i said, trying to encourage her with a change in my voice.

we spent the next 20 minutes trying to think up ways to improve her typing. she was eager and excited to learn.

"first let's see what keys you already know." i said. "so when i ask you to press a letter, DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYBOARD!"

she nodded, ready like an attentive passenger during take off.

"a." i said.

she pressed down the "a" button a whole bunch of times.

"d."

ddddddd.

"f"

ggggggg.

"no, f."

kkkkkkk

"no, f."

nnnnnnn

i marked "f" as something she needed to practice.

we went through the alphabet just like that and came up with little lessons to strengthen her skill. the words of my high school typing teacher, a short round woman who was always in a pleasant mood, echoed in my ears. "i have alumni returning to my class every year to drop in and tell me that this class, typing, was the most important class they ever took." then she'd chuckle from the plain truth.

while i was working with sofie i stopped taking my speedy fingers for granted. i am a skilled typist, i thought, straightening up in my seat. i may not know how to sew up a cut but i can type a mean quick sentence, flawlessly. i delighted in creation, at how different we all are, and how god strings us all together into interrealtional harmony at just the perfect time, just before a tiny bout of afternoon office despair and insecurity reels me further into oblivion.

and then i smiled, knowing i believe in a god who knows me well, too well!

"now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of spirit to the common good. " 1st Corinthians 12 1-7...

"For the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot should say, "because i am not a hand, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. and if the ear should say, "because i am not an eye, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. if the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? if the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? but as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19.

sofie clapped her hands together a bunch of times and brought them close to her mouth as if she was going to chew off all her nails. she was obviously looking forward to conquering the keyboard with nervous anticipation, and i was glad to be of any help.

"do you think i'll be able to do it?" she asked.

"yes." i said "i'll help you."

auntie unravels

"africans are really moody." sofie mentioned, as we were walking across the courtyard into our house. i wasn't sure why she thought that and i was finding her perceptions to be quite different than mine. "sakola in particular."

i took a moment to reflect on sakola's moods, which had seemed to be either hot or cold since sofie arrived, but i knew where they were stemming from.

"well sakola has been a bit moody, but there is a lot going on in his life right now. i think it's affecting him."

"like what?" she asked.

"auntie, mostly, and a few other added pressures."

"what's aunties problem?"

in the past few weeks it seemed she had a bundle load. each night we came home to her walking in little circles, mumbling her worries and complaints out to the universe. then the moment she spied sakola she'd reel him in with her sticky tentacles and chew him out for hours regarding things made up or having nothing to do with him.

"what has sakola done to auntie? she's quite difficult isn't she?"

i wasn't sure if auntie wanted any of us around. her son was supposed to be staying for a few days, and his visit was lasting weeks. the first few days he arrived went great. we spent the long dark hours of the night sitting around the dining room table while he inspired me with long monologues of living life as a walking tabernacle of acceptance and love. he spoke of an earth permeated with the love of god, agape love, unconditional and unchanging. then he talked of inviting that love to live in oneself, to fill up on it and essentially overflow with it. "are you following me?" he'd continuously ask. i'd just nod, waiting to hear more.

i really loved those late night chats, and my heart began to open up to him and feel glad we were sharing a living space.

but as the days grew on, seth became more and more antisocial. to deal with his strange behavior i was forced to make believe elaborate stories. i settled on this rough version:

him coming to visit his mother for his last few days on earth after finding out he only had a short while to live, less than a week. in that time he shone with gratitude and a deep inner peace, the way i imagine some people close to death might be. but as time passed, and he was still alive, he began to grow bitter and confused, just spending the days waiting to die, pissed off that he hadn't. and if he was planning on accomplishing anything in his final days, it was to convince his foreigner roommate he secretly could be a psychopath waiting for the perfect time to commit his strange crime that had everything to do with her.

because of this, i started to ignore him, which was easy, considering he stopped paying me any attention long before i had made up this decision, or this story. he and i were sharing a joint bathroom with a door that didn't lock. i set up secret traps to see if he was coming in my room when i wasn't there. i strung dental floss across the doorway in 3 places and shut the door. if i came home and any of my trap looked messed up or suspicious, i would have to confront the issue.

the floss never moved.

i didn't want him using my soap either, but continuously forgot it after bathing. when i'd remember the next morning i'd check it closely for dark curly hairs.

sofie was a little more proactive and practical. she used her medical expertise and some spare time and diagnosed him.

"oh he's harmless." she said, after i hinted at my suspicions. "he's just depressed."

"but you don't think he's dying of something terminal?" i said.

"no there is nothing the matter with him physically!" she said, a bit annoyed with his situation.

"then why is sakola doing everything for him?" that last saturday i was planning to go to town with sakola, and just as we were about to leave, seth walked into the kitchen and told us he wanted soup. sakola canceled our plans to spend hours making soup, then delivered it to his room, where it sat untouched until nighttime getting cold.

"because he's lazy." sofie said.

i still didn't believe her. something HAD to be the matter with him. he didn't eat, hardly slept, and spent long hours squatting in dark corners. it worried me. countless times i assumed i was alone, whether sitting on the porch looking at the stars, or in the living room stretching in the dark. eventually i'd hear a little cough. each time i wondered why he hadn't greeted me, and then i'd ask, a bit annoyed.

"oh i didn't see you there." he say.

i told sofie. "he said he doesn't see me there! how can he not, i'm less than 10 feet away from him! it's creeping me out!"

she thought about it and replied "maybe he doesn't see you there? severe depression can make you incredibly self-obsessed."

"but i called out in the dark asking if anyone was home. there is no way, he had to have seen me."

"yeah. huh?" she said. a few seconds later... "what was auntie screaming about last night?"

"she was mad at sakola because nanakwame left the gate open and the chicken got out and now it's gone. but i don't know why she was yelling at him."

"oh no." she said. "it was probably me. i leave the gate open all the time."

"we all do, nobody has ever told us to close it. and any way, i don't know why she cares, sakola was the one who bought the chicken."

later that night, sofie and i decided to go into town and get a drink. sakola came with us also, but ordered a coca cola classic. christians don't drink beer, he said.

it was about 8:30 when we all started to get tired. "let's go home" we decided.

when we reached our front door and pushed on it to get in, it was locked. sakola sighed, deep.

i pushed on the door again.

still locked.

"auntie." he said, shaking his head.

we peered through the window and saw the glow of a lantern. i was sure she was in there.

"call her to open the door for us." i said.

sakola called auntie's name a few times, but no response.

i was incredulous. she knew we were standing outside, waiting to come in. we could hear her breathing, raspy and hoarse.

"AUNTIE!" i yelled, loudly. "AUNTIE, we're hoooommmme!!!"

still nothing, so i kept at it. "AUNTIE!!! AUNTIE!!!"

then she interrupted me in twi, more upset than i had ever heard her.

sakola was sitting, listening to her rant, shaking his head between his legs. then she said in english "you can go find somewhere else to sleep. quit disturbing!"

i looked at sofie and then at sakola. was she serious? she wouldn't open the door for us? it wasn't yet 9 p.m., a seemingly acceptable time to come home before this night, and she was awake.

she was still going on in twi. "what is she saying?" sofie asked.

"she's saying she won't open the door for us, we have to go into town and find somewhere to sleep. collin's mother's house or something?"

i couldn't hold back. "auntie- this is our house. let us in! we pay rent here, we aren't going into town to sleep!" i hollered. i felt very american basing the argument off the fact that i paid to live there, but it was true.

sakola walked over to the window and took 5 minutes to convince her to open the door for us. she was reluctant and came out to the porch to finish us off with some more yelling. she was dressed in a blue pilots uniform, which only added to her absurdity.

"who is the one who speaks twi?" she asked sofie.

"i don't speak twi!" she replied.

so auntie came over to me and told me 9 was too late, she doesn't run a hostel, and we were causing her problems.

i didn't want to argue so i just listened and finished it by saying "yooooo" which means, okay. then she turned and went into the house.

i stayed outside for a lot longer, fearing her presence.

"you and sofie, when you go" sakola said "i'm moving. i won't stay here. in may, i'm moving."

"i completely understand." i said.

i looked at him and admired him in some ways; mostly for the graceful way he put up with auntie on a daily basis and for how he continuously helped seth out despite the circumstances. i vowed to learn a lesson from this, although i wasn't quite sure what exactly that would be.