late one afternoon, on my walk home from the clinic, Tanko met me on the road and walked me the rest of the way. we chatted about our day and the soccer game we had both played in that previous sunday.
our team had loaded up into the back of a big truck and gone to play a game in a local village. the entire drive there i was getting tossed around in between sweaty armpits and loud singing. while leading the cheers, Tanko also kept swatting people to give me a little space, but i really didn't mind. i was having fun being 'one of the boys'.
as we walked along the road, we talked of our similar complaints against the referree, who called the two teams together at the beginning, declaring it a 'friendly match' but who was obviously biased. he let the game get overly rowdy and made calls only against our team. at half time a fist fight almost broke out between him and one of our mid-fielders. it was apparent the pre-match speech was really just him publically trying to remind himself to stifle his bad temper.
"well thanks for walking me" i said to Tanko.
he opened the gate to let me into my courtyard.
"oh not a problem. see you at training." he said, as he walked off.
i turned around and made my way towards the porch. auntie was sitting there, growling at me.
"good afternoon auntie." i said.
she started hitting the air, as if trying to combat a swarm of invisible bees. every day she was growing more and more odd.
I waited for her storm to subside. Then I walked up the stairs and began to make my way into the house. Just then auntie turned back and shouted at me between mumbles...
“I will beat you! Stop doing that!”
she looked genuinely angry about something so I stayed put, but she just turned her back to me and continued being upset.
Just then sakola walked down the hallway in my direction. I rolled my eyes and pointed in aunties direction, as if to warn him.
He pretend slapped the side of my head and told me in twi he was going to abuse me. This language is harsh for a native English speaker, but I had grown used to how Ghanaians use it so I wasn’t too offended. But still, I wondered what everyone was mad at me about?
The two of them were now sitting side by side on the porch, ganging up on me.
“why will you beat me?” I asked auntie directly.
She answered passionately in twi, something about a thief and my friend.
“sakola I don’t understand.”
Although auntie was the more fluent of the two it didn’t look like she was going to attempt English any time soon.
“she will beat you kessy!”
“yes I know, I already heard that.”
“she will beat you because you bring that boy here. He’s a bad boy kessy.” Then he gave me that same look, the one I had gotten from him the morning Tanko woke me before work.
“Tanko?” I asked.
Auntie hollered at me like a fierce lion. “KEEP HIM OUT!!!!!!”
“come” sakola said, ushering me into the house. He closed the door. “akua, that boy is bad. He go to accra steal from the white people and run. The police, they come here and find him…” then he pantomimed being handcuffed and dragged away. “he’s bad, and you are making friends with him, its no good, no good at all.”
“I didn’t know.” I wondered why it took them 2 months to tell me I had been walking with the town thief. I quickly recounted all the times I had let him into my room.
Once.
Then I went down the list of all the times I had left my purse unattended in his company.
Never.
Thirdly I thought about him, as an individual.
I liked him. He kept pleasant company.
Was it because he was planning on robbing me or because he was a nice person who just happened to do something stupid? In a village reputation is everything, and as I was witnessing, one bad move will forever taint your future.
Sakola’s lips began to sneer in disapproval, and my thoughts were following them. So tanko is a thief who enjoys stealing from foreigners. This entire time he has been placating me, I thought, waiting for the perfect moment to move in and make a fortune off the naïve white girl. My initial assumption had been correct, when I looked at his skinny body and questioned how he got along. Apparently he didn’t need to work hard living off of funds taken from somebody else.
I looked at sakola.
“okay.” I said, firm in my decision. “I won’t walk with him anymore.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Secetry, Kingsley and I were taking a stroll through the village visiting friends and enjoying each other’s company. It was late in the day and Kingsley’s cologne had worn off some so I was able to stand in between them while we stopped at the football pitch to watch a match that was close to finishing.
Tanko was playing left forward.
"i saw you walking with that boy there kacie." kingsley said, pointing at tanko. "people have been telling me that." he stated it more as a conversation piece than a warning or admonishment. his humble nature invited my question.
"do you know much about him?"
"oh not so much. but he is not very good at football. see the way he is running? he isn't fast. you have to be fast! back in my home village, everybody knows me as the talented footballer."
secetry interrupted. "akua kessie plays football!"
"yes, in my town i am known as the talented footballer. when you come there, you can ask, just say 'kingsley' and everybody will tell you 'oh kingsley, he is a talented footballer', really, just go and ask. so when i look at this boy here, he doesn't play nicely. you see?"
all three of us moved our heads to look at the ball floating high in the sky. as it descended, Tanko jumped up high and headed it into the goal. his team cheered and ran into one another, embracing as if it was the world cup.
we all looked at each other and laughed.
"that was nice." i said.
"yes, it was." kingsley agreed.
"very nice." secetry added. "but any way, that boy, he is a troublemaker."
"you shouldn't be keeping company with him" kingsley said.
tanko looked over at us and made eye contact with me. he gave a friendly wave. he was beaming from his most recent accomplishment. i lifted my head ever so slightly and then stared at the ground.
"lets keep walking." i suggested. i didn't want to be around after the game had ended, because i still didn't know how to interact with my ex-friend.
as we all were strolling along i sought a little advice. "so say i wanted to ignore tanko, how does a person do that in a village? i see him everywhere."
"well" kinglsey advised "when he walks up to you, you should just tell him you aren't interested and do this." he waved his arms around like he was drowning.
it seemed a bit dramatic, and i couldn't imagine it coming naturally. 'sorry tanko, i'm not interested!' wave wave flutter flutter. he'd have no frame of reference. i'd just appear crazy.
"...and why do you guys think he's a bad boy?"
"oh because the police came and arrested him. he was taking money from people in accra." secetry said.
i had known he lived in accra, he told me he was a houseboy for some missionaries. this was after i complimented him on how well he spoke english.
"did you see him being arrested?"
"yes, the police came to his house and brought him out in handcuffs. everybody in the village knows, we all saw."
"when was this?"
"about 2 years back."
i spent a little while longer walking with my friends and then i told them i was heading home.
on the stretch back to my house i prayed for some guidance.
Tanko may have made a poor choice in his life but i am a christian, which means, i am supposed to love the sinner and hate the sin, right? i didn't feel comfortable letting him into my personal space anymore, and wouldn't dare have him face auntie in fear of an explosion, but i couldn't justify turning my back and running every time i saw him in town. i thought he was a nice guy.
i reflected on my past.
i had stolen a lot in my life. when i was 16, me and my 2 best friends, got chased and handcuffed by police in an outdoor mall, ending my 2 year spree of teenage kleptomania. who was i to judge? in my case, i was blessed to have come from a big city.
i thought of the bible, of the adulteress woman who was caught with her lover. as the story goes, she was dragged outside to be punished, to have stones thrown at her body. when the officials asked jesus how he thought she should be dealt with, he replied after a long time of silence "he who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first."
in time, Jesus was left standing with the woman, alone.
i decided i was going to drop the rock from my sweaty palm and keep our relationship exactly how it was. i was going to continue playing soccer with him, and walking through the village with him, and being his friend. but the next time he approached me i was going to tell him what i knew. i like being honest, and i like hearing what is on people's hearts. this would make for an interesting conversation with him, and a future of interesting conversations with all the townspeople.
"you must stop walking with that boy. he is a theif."
"i know he's a theif, we already talked."
once again, i couldn't escape the potentcy of village life, of the directness, the accessibiltily, the lack of privacy. i wondered how Tanko even got along? who were his true friends, how did his neighbors treat him?
he had brought me to his living quarters once, it was a small mud structure divided into two. he lived on the right, his mother on the left. he had two white cats that responded lovingly to his voice, following him from the outside to the inside, inside to the outside.
"those are my pets." he giggled."i like animals."
they appeared to be quite fond of him also. and i wondered why we humans have such a complicated system to loving. sometimes, i thought, it might just be easier if we were a little more like Tanko's pets, or a little more like God, free to love regardless of circumstance.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
the one week celebration
i had seen Secetry late the night before, while Sofie, Sakola and I were on our way in the dark, walking to the clinic. Collins had malaria so we went to get him some medicine. during the walk i heard a million 'akua kacie's' and i decided to answer each one. i was in a sociable mood.
sakola and sofie kept walking while i chatted with my friends. each time i caught up with them another 'akua kacie' would make me fall behind.
one of them was secetry.
'i saw you playing football today!" he said. "you are good. ahhahaha."
"thank you."
"ahhh akkkuuaa!" and he gave me a little slap. "tomorrow we will go to the one week celebration. you won't go to work, you'll come with me."
"okay."
"see you then."
"bye!"
i skipped ahead. sakola and sofie had almost reached the clinic. this week was going to be a strain on the health center, only because Vic's mother died a week earlier so she planned to be out, and just as secetry said, tomorrow we would go to mourn with the family.
i sat down on the bench with sakola while sophie went into the dispensary for the drugs.
"it's too much." sakola said.
i didn't know what he was talking about.
"it's too much, akua kessy akua kessy, why?!" he looked at me like i was trigger happy and had a remote control that set off people yelling my name.
"what do you mean, "why"?" i asked.
"every time, akua kessy, akua kessy, everyone. they scream you and you go. why?"
"i am practicing the ghanian way sako, i'm greeting!"
"but you are too happy."
"what do you mean i am too happy?"
"i say, you- you- are too happy!"
the statement seemed accusatory. but how can you accuse someone of being TOO happy?
"okay, fine, i'm too happy." i said cheerfully.
he turned his back to me and pouted. his bad mood had lasted a few days and it was beginning to bother me. we ignored each other until sofie came back with the medicine and then we all left to deliver it to our friend.
~~~
i woke up and knew exactly what i was to wear. i walked over to my wardrobe, reached in the far back, and unhooked the hangar that held the black dress. i was glad that i didn't have to think of an outfit. not that it requires too much thought, but like a microwave dinner, sometimes having something preplanned and simple is a great pleasure.
i put it on and went to work.
"good morning Ma."
"good morning. oh! you look nice today. your dress, it suits you."
Ma's compliments always felt more powerful than anyone elses. I suddenly felt incredibly beautiful. i looked down at my dress, it was nice, wasn't it?
she sat back in her chair and smiled at me, the way an illiterate mother might smile while her daughter reaches out to receive a diploma at her college graduation.
"thank you." i beamed.
"so you are going to the funeral with secetry today. please give vic my sympathies."
"i will. we plan to leave at 11" i said "so in 2 hours time. how was your weekend?" i asked.
"oh! i just was relaxing." she moved her hands around like she was flipping tortillas. "but as for this place, if you stay around for the weekend there is nothing to do except sleep! it is too quiet here!" she laughed and shook her head.
Ma preferred to visit her family in kumasi for the weekends, but was only allowed to go twice a month. due to the almost disaster in the ward a week prior i was thankful she didn't leave every weekend. but she always seemed refreshed and alive after seeing her children, so i was also glad when she got to vacate. "you said you were going to cameroon in february but you haven't left." she said.
"i bought my ticket for the 26th. i'll go then." i said.
"and when will you be returning?"
"on the 12th of March."
"oh Kaisy. but i will miss you too much. that is a long time!"
Ma was feeling cozy with me this morning, i wasn't sure why, but i liked her softer side.
while we were talking watchman walked in, greeted ma, and informed me it was time to leave.
"bye Ma! i'll see you tomorrow!" i yelled as the screen door shut. i heard her chuckle to herself a few times.
watchman was dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks that matched. he told me to wait for a taxi in town, he was going to get something. secetry would be coming shortly, he had gone to put on his funeral attire.
i sat around for an hour or so, as the town drunk tried desperately to make english conversation with me. each time i made eye contact with him, which was an easy thing to do considering he was standing directly in front of me, he'd lean down and grasp both my hands into both of his and shake them furiously, saying 'good good, oh yes, good good'.
it was really annoying and the longer i waited the more my mood began to plummet. i wasn't in the mood to be every body's novelty.
i chose to focus on other things. i was thankful that the day was cloudy with bursts of wind. the weather was uncharacteristic and i found some delight in the upset. when i wasn't looking at the sky i could only see the man, he was taking over my personal space.
the drunk had an interesting look. he was tall and stiff with a friendly gawky presence. he reminded me of dorothy's friend, the scarecrow. he'd bow down and tip his hat in my direction and mumble off some incoherent phrase. i would have engaged his company if i knew it would have resulted in something fruitful, but by the looks of it he had been drinking the local hard alcohol, apeteshie, all morning long and i preferred to pretend i was a mute white girl.
pretty soon a crowd of locals gathered around and tried to convince the man i spoke twi. but every time he bent down and rustled my palms together i looked at my feet in silence.
he told them he didn't think i spoke anything.
i was glad he was catching my point.
just then a taxi came down the road and secetry walked out from behind a corner, wrapped in at least 3 yards of beautiful black fabric. his small chest was exposed and the tail end of the cotton was slung over his left shoulder, the way men traditionally wear the local garb. he looked great. he looked regal.
6 of us loaded up into the taxi and the drunk stuck his head through the window.
"is he crazy?" i asked secetry.
"no, hahaha, hes drunk."
so i was correct. i didn't feel so bad ignoring him. he had inflicted this state upon himself.
watchman and secetry made some playful banter with the guy, and then we took off for what i presumed would be a very long day.
~~~
i have never been to a funeral celebration in ghana that didn't last the entire day, and that didn't end in drunkenness. i was wanting neither of those things but was prepared for both.
"we will take 4 cars to get to Maame Vic's village." secetry said.
"4 cars!? how far is it?"
"its not far, but we will alight in konongo and take a car from there. then when we alight at the next town we will take a bush taxi."
"alright."
"oh kessy! you are thinking too much. it seems something is troubling you this morning."
it was nice to have a friend who noticed my moods.
"i'm okay." i said. "i'm just feeling kind of tired and i really don't want to be the center of attention today. i don't want people coming up and prodding me and saying "oh white girl oh white girl". i just want to sit and be left alone. do you know what i mean?"
"i understand." he said. "i will make an announcement that nobody should talk to you."
i wasn't sure if he was kidding, because he didn't laugh, he just stared over the hill looking for a tro tro to catch.
"i don't mind talking to people, i just don't want to be treated like a zoo animal. you don't have to make an announcement, i'll be okay, i'm just low energy."
"oh okay, tank you." he said.
we made it to the last ride in a short amount of time. i was able to doze off and not have to make conversation, which was exactly how i was hoping the morning would go. 7 of us loaded up into the car, after the driver took an old dirty rag and wiped off the seats. this car was dustier than ones i had seen in boamadumase, but just as ragged.
secetry and i shared the front seat, but i didn't want to sit on him so i hung half my body out the window. i peered into the vehicle and paid close attention. i like getting to know the taxis, they interest me. secetry must have seen me staring because he started laughing and asked me if i would be able to drive this car.
i had gotten into the habit of driving the local taxis. not a lot of women drive here, so it initially started as a way to show off. i liked the attention, cruising down the long dusty road, beeping at people and then watching their faces astonished as i wave with a car packed full of people. it's also expanded my twi, having to learn phrases such as "you need to get out of the way faster!"
"sure i can drive this car!" i said, coming back to life from a morning of dullness.
"are you sure?"
"yea, why not?"
he pointed at the ignition.
it was keyless.
we both started laughing.
"well" i said "i might need a key."
"so you can't drive this car. but ghanaians" he said "we are MAGICIANS! you see?"
the road was bumpy and i was trying to figure if i did have to take control, how would i turn the car on. secetry kept echoing his phrase, 'ghanians are magicians' while he saw me pondering. i was hoping we'd get to the town shortly because i was tired of propping myself up. i didn't trust the door to hold me in, so i had a strong hold on the roof of the car, just in case the door flung open.
the environment surrounding the windy road was wild. graves were scattered underneath tall trees. the rains had come in the past week leaving everything more green and vibrant. i liked the feel of the village immediately we pulled in. it rested on what felt like the edge of a hill, overlooking rolling mountains in the distance, and brought out that funny feeling in my heart that balancing on the edge of a city on a hill does. it produces moments of deep reflection, of feeling gratefully small and inconsequential. like looking at the stars.
a huge church had been constructed in the middle of town. it dominated any attention the town might receive, and made me instantly interested in the history of the place. then from the bottom of the hill, i saw streams of people dressed in black single filing into a small cement building.
we all got out of the taxi and walked in that direction. the building was painted fluorescent pink, with electric blue shutters. it was the only colored building i could see, the rest matched the red dirt color i had grown quite accustomed to.
the first time i saw a line of army ants in africa, i was warned to be careful. the trail of them was so thick they could have been mistaken as a stream of water. i was walking in the forest, with a friend. "be careful" he said, pointing at the ground. i bent down and observed their formation. lining the outside of the flow, on both sides, were big ants with claws facing outwards protecting their kin inside. the ants inside were busy hurrying across the path into the bush. one step into the middle and my foot would have been swarmed.
plastic chairs lined the building, not one left empty. the rest of the well wishers were making their way inside. i thought of the ants, because i felt like one now. we were on a mission, to our nest, our hill.
the inside of the courtyard looked like a miniature stadium. it was small, no bigger than half a tennis court, but somehow managed to accommodate every person who was making their way in. chairs had been set up on four sides, each having 3 or 4 lines behind them.
in the center of the room was a picture, blown up and framed of Maame Vic's deceased mother. a lace cloth had been draped over a chair, and the picture rested against it.
it is custom to greet every person (sitting in the front row) when you arrive to a funeral with a handshake. women follow men, so i trailed behind secetry and extended my hand to over 75 people. greeting that many people in just a few short minutes is an overload on my imagination. so many different looks and histories, each hand a different texture and bone structure than the last.
funerals are the glue that keep families in contact here. because ghanaians believe in extended family, they attend funerals quite often, and in turn this keeps relations close.
by the time we had finished with our rounds most of the chairs had been taken. there were 3 left open, close to the wall of the far corner where 6 gigantic speakers, each threatening me with a potential headache, had been set up. i hoped for failure of electricity.
a high pitched screech made it's way through the room.
they had turned on the microphones, my wish had not been granted.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGOOO AGGGGOOOOOOO!!!!"
a middle aged woman who seemed to really like public announcements was on the loud speaker commanding the crowds attention. i still hadn't been placed in a seat, but was trying to get as far away from the speakers as possible. the room was small enough for it not to make much of a difference, but i was glad when somebody grabbed my arm and said "you will sit here."
i plopped myself down on the chair and looked around. not many people were watching me, which was nice. i had been sat at the chair closest to the picture of who we were mourning.
i looked across the room at vic. she had her hair wrapped up in a large piece of stiff black cloth. her face looked worn and her skin looked thin. she had the appearance of somebody who does all their crying in private then emerges tired and aloof. i felt bad for her. it's harder to console somebody who is publically trying to keep it together, in fear of unraveling them. when she walked over to me i stretched out my hand and gave her a sympathy nod, resting in the fact that the speakers drowned out our opportunity for conversation.
"AGGGGOOOO!!! AGGGOOOO!!" i don't know why the woman was still screaming, we were all paying attention to her.
i looked at the photograph. vic looked exactly like her mother. they both carried the same expression, of worry and sadness melted into beauty.
a few large crates of bottled soda had been hauled into the center and the dj's had taken over by replacing the woman with very loud music.
there were 4 choices; sprite, cocacola, fanta, and guiness. one man was scooting the red crate along the floor as the other pulled out different drinks and handed them to each person in my row. i was hoping he'd hand me fanta, and he did. somebody ran down our aisle and opened all our drinks, letting our bottle caps fly off and roll on the floor.
i studied the crowd in their outfits. black and red, their funeral colors. everybody was dressed in african fabric, the women in long skirts and creative tops, and most of the men looking the same as secetry, fabric wrapped around their body like a huge body bandage. my dress seemed a little short, exposing my pasty knees and causing me to constantly shift, tugging it down so it wouldn't reach mid thigh. but again, not many people seemed to notice me, so i wasn't too worried. i just sat and drank my orange flavored fanta, wondering if anyone else was going deaf also.
the man who opened my drink was standing in front of me, waiting for something. when i realized everyone else had finished their drinks and handed their bottles back i chugged mine so he could take it and leave. the only problem was, it was too much soda. i handed him the rest and said i couldn't finish it.
"thank you" he said, as he gulped down the last little bit. then he put the bottle back in the crate, balanced it all on his head, and walked out.
i leaned over to secetry and whispered.
"so what are we doing?"
"we are mourning with the family and taking in minerals (soda)."
"oh, okay."
"and we are deciding the date of the funeral."
i was confused.
"isn't this the funeral?" i asked.
"no, this is the one week celebration."
secetry's has the most welcoming face. i like watching it during conversation. his features are round and bubbly.
"but, why do both?"
"because we have to decide on a date for the funeral, so people will come."
i looked around. the place was pretty packed.
"more people than this?" i asked.
"ooooohhhhh yes. more people will come. you see, the people here, they are just representatives for all the rest of their family. they will go back to their villages and tell more people to come."
a tent had been constructed to shade the middle of the courtyard, or considering the weather, maybe it was to protect us all from the chance of rain. either way, the woman on the loudspeaker was explaining the costs of the gathering; minerals, tent and chair rental, speakers, etc.. this was followed up by another lady, slim and energetic with a black plastic bucket on her head, dancing around the room like a wobbly top bending in suggestion of a donation.
i opened my purse and pulled out 10,000 cedis, about one dollar. i crumpled it up so no one could make out the amount and threw it in the bucket. i looked and saw that most contributions were 2,000 cedis.
in situations like this, i never know what is an appropriate amount to give. i have no cultural context, so i crumple the bills and hope i'm not offending.
"let's go." somebody had walked over to me and was pulling me out of my chair. i followed them back outside where a band of people, none of whom i knew, were waiting for me. "follow them." the person said. we walked past the church, behind some houses, into one of them. the house felt relatively modern, with cushioned chairs and a television.
i started to overanalyze why i was feeling so tired, and came to the conclusion that sophies book on tropical diseases is not what i should be reading during down time at the clinic. it had reignited my dormant hypochondria. i was sure my day's lethargy stemmed from being secretly bit by a tsetse fly and now i had the dreaded "sleeping sickness". in a few short days i might be bleeding out all my orfaces.
was i getting my symptoms confused? i tried hard to remember if the sleeping sickness led to bleeding, or was it death?
nobody in the room was speaking so i slowly descended into the depths of paranoid thought, until a saviour walked in the room and turned the television on. i snapped out from where i was at and zoned in on the screen.
"but i loved soloman, why did he have to go away?" the little brunette was asking her blonde babysitter.
i recognized the movie instantly, only because it was on my top 5 favorite from my childhood.
i glanced to the left and to the right. my company seemed to be just as enthralled. none of them knew english but the plot would be easy to follow.
"your mommy sent him away." said the physco nanny.
i was watching "a hand that rocks the cradle" in a tiny west african village. after that thought flashed through my mind i paid no more attention to my current reality as i quickly absorbed myself into the film. i wanted to stay there all day long. it was the perfect situation for my mood.
a tray passed in front of my face, with wadded up chunks of something greasy wrapped in paper towels. tv and papertowels? i plucked one off and didn't take my eyes from the screen while i unwrapped the contents and ate it.
chicken. yum.
i hadn't tasted chicken in quite some time. every night in the village, the meat of choice and availability was fish, from "the big water".
sakola had bought a chicken one day while we were walking down the road. it was a strange experience, only because i thought we were headed on our way to church until a man rode by on a bicycle holding the fowl upside down while trying to balance and steer. he wasn't very coordinated and one of them, either him or the bird, was sure to get hurt. sakola stopped him and suddenly nanakwame appeared from out of nowhere, while they all haggled for a fair price. they settled on 30,000 cedis, 3 dollars. nanakwame ran the chicken back to our house and later when we came home, the chicken had a rooster friend. i still haven't figured out where the rooster came from but i have become calloused to his uniquely harrowing 3 a.m. cry that sounds more like a woman dying in a blender than a rooster crowing. "this bird" sakola says daily, pointing to the chicken as it runs around the yard "this bird, before you leave..." then he makes the motion of slicing its neck.
i'm hoping he means we'll feast on it as a farewell party.
the flavor of the chicken in my mouth now, tasted like the most amazing thing i had ever eaten.
secetry walked in the room. "kessy?! we are going back, come and lets go." he said. i hadn't noticed everyone had shuffled out and i was chewing on the bone like a starved dog.
"is there any more chicken?" i asked.
he just laughed at me and led me out of the house.
"no i'm serious." i said. "is there any more chicken?"
i had come a long way from my devout vegetarianism some years prior, i was now begging for meat.
"it is sweet?"
"YES! very."
"i will try to find you some." he said, the way a good friend would.
we walked back into the room overflowing with people. i was growing tired of being there, mostly because the day was now hot, the music level had increased, and nothing new was happening. when i sat down in my chair the sound waves made my stomach hurt. my body was vibrating to the sound of the beat, i felt like i had swallowed all 6 of the speakers.
ma vic walked over to me and i gave her a look.
"are you okay?" she said.
"yea, i'm okay. is the music loud to you too?" i yelled.
"yes, it's too loud. the speakers are supposed to have gone outside but we didn't have a... whats that thing... extension cord, so they just kept them in here. it's disturbing."
by the look on everyones face they could have been at a relaxing weekend on the lake.
ma vic walked away.
i thought about what sophie had noted a few days earlier. "nobody seems to complain here." she said "i find it really annoying!"
it was true in some situations, like now.
i looked at secetry. "i have to leave, it's too loud! it's hurting my body. i'll be outside." i said.
he followed me out.
i wasn't being a very good guest, but i wasn't sure if anyone really noticed. i hadn't talked to anyone since morning and couldn't stop thinking about leaving.
"secetry, what time is it?"
"why, do you want to leave?"
"yeah, kinda."
"we will go in 30 minutes time, which will make it 3:00. if we leave now, vic will think we don't care. 30 minutes, is that okay?"
"30 minutes is good." it seemed like eternity.
we made small talk, about the house and all the people. i had asked whose house it was.
"it's vic's mothers house. the house is big! it's nice!" he said.
"your house is just as big, it just seems larger because they crammed so many people inside."
"no, my house is too small. it is much smaller than this one."
"you think so?"
"ohh yess."
"well than, don't die. we won't have any place to celebrate you in."
"oh kessy! death-" he said "death, is everyones property."
somebody announced they had come to an agreement on the date of the funeral. news started buzzing around outside that it was set for April 27th and 28th, and i only saw nods of approval.
"will you come?" secetry asked.
"i think so." i answered.
"everybody at the clinic will come; efreeyeh, vera, kingsley. they will all be here. we will dance and have fun. you must come! ahhhahhaaaha"
it sounded like it was going to be a good time.
"okay, i'll be there. definately."
"good, thank you. now lets go."
we said our good byes to vic and made our journey back home.
"how was the funeral?" sophie asked.
i didn't know what to say so i shrugged my shoulders. "i'm tired today. the music was loud and i drank a fanta."
"sounds pretty boring" her accent put a lot of stress on the boring.
"i wouldn't say that, it just wasn't exciting." it dawned on me that i am one of those people, one of those people that don't believe in boredom. i thought of my grandmama, a woman who lives every moment as an artist. growing up, whenever we'd be sitting in her car at a stop light, she'd bend both her hands into what resembled a little looking box, and then she'd peer through it contemplatively, saying
"the good thing about being an artist is..." bending her head left and then right "... you never have a dull moment." she is a painter. "you just do this and whatever is in front of you, life, turns into a working composition."
that wisdom has helped me on long days like this.
sakola and sofie kept walking while i chatted with my friends. each time i caught up with them another 'akua kacie' would make me fall behind.
one of them was secetry.
'i saw you playing football today!" he said. "you are good. ahhahaha."
"thank you."
"ahhh akkkuuaa!" and he gave me a little slap. "tomorrow we will go to the one week celebration. you won't go to work, you'll come with me."
"okay."
"see you then."
"bye!"
i skipped ahead. sakola and sofie had almost reached the clinic. this week was going to be a strain on the health center, only because Vic's mother died a week earlier so she planned to be out, and just as secetry said, tomorrow we would go to mourn with the family.
i sat down on the bench with sakola while sophie went into the dispensary for the drugs.
"it's too much." sakola said.
i didn't know what he was talking about.
"it's too much, akua kessy akua kessy, why?!" he looked at me like i was trigger happy and had a remote control that set off people yelling my name.
"what do you mean, "why"?" i asked.
"every time, akua kessy, akua kessy, everyone. they scream you and you go. why?"
"i am practicing the ghanian way sako, i'm greeting!"
"but you are too happy."
"what do you mean i am too happy?"
"i say, you- you- are too happy!"
the statement seemed accusatory. but how can you accuse someone of being TOO happy?
"okay, fine, i'm too happy." i said cheerfully.
he turned his back to me and pouted. his bad mood had lasted a few days and it was beginning to bother me. we ignored each other until sofie came back with the medicine and then we all left to deliver it to our friend.
~~~
i woke up and knew exactly what i was to wear. i walked over to my wardrobe, reached in the far back, and unhooked the hangar that held the black dress. i was glad that i didn't have to think of an outfit. not that it requires too much thought, but like a microwave dinner, sometimes having something preplanned and simple is a great pleasure.
i put it on and went to work.
"good morning Ma."
"good morning. oh! you look nice today. your dress, it suits you."
Ma's compliments always felt more powerful than anyone elses. I suddenly felt incredibly beautiful. i looked down at my dress, it was nice, wasn't it?
she sat back in her chair and smiled at me, the way an illiterate mother might smile while her daughter reaches out to receive a diploma at her college graduation.
"thank you." i beamed.
"so you are going to the funeral with secetry today. please give vic my sympathies."
"i will. we plan to leave at 11" i said "so in 2 hours time. how was your weekend?" i asked.
"oh! i just was relaxing." she moved her hands around like she was flipping tortillas. "but as for this place, if you stay around for the weekend there is nothing to do except sleep! it is too quiet here!" she laughed and shook her head.
Ma preferred to visit her family in kumasi for the weekends, but was only allowed to go twice a month. due to the almost disaster in the ward a week prior i was thankful she didn't leave every weekend. but she always seemed refreshed and alive after seeing her children, so i was also glad when she got to vacate. "you said you were going to cameroon in february but you haven't left." she said.
"i bought my ticket for the 26th. i'll go then." i said.
"and when will you be returning?"
"on the 12th of March."
"oh Kaisy. but i will miss you too much. that is a long time!"
Ma was feeling cozy with me this morning, i wasn't sure why, but i liked her softer side.
while we were talking watchman walked in, greeted ma, and informed me it was time to leave.
"bye Ma! i'll see you tomorrow!" i yelled as the screen door shut. i heard her chuckle to herself a few times.
watchman was dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks that matched. he told me to wait for a taxi in town, he was going to get something. secetry would be coming shortly, he had gone to put on his funeral attire.
i sat around for an hour or so, as the town drunk tried desperately to make english conversation with me. each time i made eye contact with him, which was an easy thing to do considering he was standing directly in front of me, he'd lean down and grasp both my hands into both of his and shake them furiously, saying 'good good, oh yes, good good'.
it was really annoying and the longer i waited the more my mood began to plummet. i wasn't in the mood to be every body's novelty.
i chose to focus on other things. i was thankful that the day was cloudy with bursts of wind. the weather was uncharacteristic and i found some delight in the upset. when i wasn't looking at the sky i could only see the man, he was taking over my personal space.
the drunk had an interesting look. he was tall and stiff with a friendly gawky presence. he reminded me of dorothy's friend, the scarecrow. he'd bow down and tip his hat in my direction and mumble off some incoherent phrase. i would have engaged his company if i knew it would have resulted in something fruitful, but by the looks of it he had been drinking the local hard alcohol, apeteshie, all morning long and i preferred to pretend i was a mute white girl.
pretty soon a crowd of locals gathered around and tried to convince the man i spoke twi. but every time he bent down and rustled my palms together i looked at my feet in silence.
he told them he didn't think i spoke anything.
i was glad he was catching my point.
just then a taxi came down the road and secetry walked out from behind a corner, wrapped in at least 3 yards of beautiful black fabric. his small chest was exposed and the tail end of the cotton was slung over his left shoulder, the way men traditionally wear the local garb. he looked great. he looked regal.
6 of us loaded up into the taxi and the drunk stuck his head through the window.
"is he crazy?" i asked secetry.
"no, hahaha, hes drunk."
so i was correct. i didn't feel so bad ignoring him. he had inflicted this state upon himself.
watchman and secetry made some playful banter with the guy, and then we took off for what i presumed would be a very long day.
~~~
i have never been to a funeral celebration in ghana that didn't last the entire day, and that didn't end in drunkenness. i was wanting neither of those things but was prepared for both.
"we will take 4 cars to get to Maame Vic's village." secetry said.
"4 cars!? how far is it?"
"its not far, but we will alight in konongo and take a car from there. then when we alight at the next town we will take a bush taxi."
"alright."
"oh kessy! you are thinking too much. it seems something is troubling you this morning."
it was nice to have a friend who noticed my moods.
"i'm okay." i said. "i'm just feeling kind of tired and i really don't want to be the center of attention today. i don't want people coming up and prodding me and saying "oh white girl oh white girl". i just want to sit and be left alone. do you know what i mean?"
"i understand." he said. "i will make an announcement that nobody should talk to you."
i wasn't sure if he was kidding, because he didn't laugh, he just stared over the hill looking for a tro tro to catch.
"i don't mind talking to people, i just don't want to be treated like a zoo animal. you don't have to make an announcement, i'll be okay, i'm just low energy."
"oh okay, tank you." he said.
we made it to the last ride in a short amount of time. i was able to doze off and not have to make conversation, which was exactly how i was hoping the morning would go. 7 of us loaded up into the car, after the driver took an old dirty rag and wiped off the seats. this car was dustier than ones i had seen in boamadumase, but just as ragged.
secetry and i shared the front seat, but i didn't want to sit on him so i hung half my body out the window. i peered into the vehicle and paid close attention. i like getting to know the taxis, they interest me. secetry must have seen me staring because he started laughing and asked me if i would be able to drive this car.
i had gotten into the habit of driving the local taxis. not a lot of women drive here, so it initially started as a way to show off. i liked the attention, cruising down the long dusty road, beeping at people and then watching their faces astonished as i wave with a car packed full of people. it's also expanded my twi, having to learn phrases such as "you need to get out of the way faster!"
"sure i can drive this car!" i said, coming back to life from a morning of dullness.
"are you sure?"
"yea, why not?"
he pointed at the ignition.
it was keyless.
we both started laughing.
"well" i said "i might need a key."
"so you can't drive this car. but ghanaians" he said "we are MAGICIANS! you see?"
the road was bumpy and i was trying to figure if i did have to take control, how would i turn the car on. secetry kept echoing his phrase, 'ghanians are magicians' while he saw me pondering. i was hoping we'd get to the town shortly because i was tired of propping myself up. i didn't trust the door to hold me in, so i had a strong hold on the roof of the car, just in case the door flung open.
the environment surrounding the windy road was wild. graves were scattered underneath tall trees. the rains had come in the past week leaving everything more green and vibrant. i liked the feel of the village immediately we pulled in. it rested on what felt like the edge of a hill, overlooking rolling mountains in the distance, and brought out that funny feeling in my heart that balancing on the edge of a city on a hill does. it produces moments of deep reflection, of feeling gratefully small and inconsequential. like looking at the stars.
a huge church had been constructed in the middle of town. it dominated any attention the town might receive, and made me instantly interested in the history of the place. then from the bottom of the hill, i saw streams of people dressed in black single filing into a small cement building.
we all got out of the taxi and walked in that direction. the building was painted fluorescent pink, with electric blue shutters. it was the only colored building i could see, the rest matched the red dirt color i had grown quite accustomed to.
the first time i saw a line of army ants in africa, i was warned to be careful. the trail of them was so thick they could have been mistaken as a stream of water. i was walking in the forest, with a friend. "be careful" he said, pointing at the ground. i bent down and observed their formation. lining the outside of the flow, on both sides, were big ants with claws facing outwards protecting their kin inside. the ants inside were busy hurrying across the path into the bush. one step into the middle and my foot would have been swarmed.
plastic chairs lined the building, not one left empty. the rest of the well wishers were making their way inside. i thought of the ants, because i felt like one now. we were on a mission, to our nest, our hill.
the inside of the courtyard looked like a miniature stadium. it was small, no bigger than half a tennis court, but somehow managed to accommodate every person who was making their way in. chairs had been set up on four sides, each having 3 or 4 lines behind them.
in the center of the room was a picture, blown up and framed of Maame Vic's deceased mother. a lace cloth had been draped over a chair, and the picture rested against it.
it is custom to greet every person (sitting in the front row) when you arrive to a funeral with a handshake. women follow men, so i trailed behind secetry and extended my hand to over 75 people. greeting that many people in just a few short minutes is an overload on my imagination. so many different looks and histories, each hand a different texture and bone structure than the last.
funerals are the glue that keep families in contact here. because ghanaians believe in extended family, they attend funerals quite often, and in turn this keeps relations close.
by the time we had finished with our rounds most of the chairs had been taken. there were 3 left open, close to the wall of the far corner where 6 gigantic speakers, each threatening me with a potential headache, had been set up. i hoped for failure of electricity.
a high pitched screech made it's way through the room.
they had turned on the microphones, my wish had not been granted.
"AGGGGGGGGGGGOOO AGGGGOOOOOOO!!!!"
a middle aged woman who seemed to really like public announcements was on the loud speaker commanding the crowds attention. i still hadn't been placed in a seat, but was trying to get as far away from the speakers as possible. the room was small enough for it not to make much of a difference, but i was glad when somebody grabbed my arm and said "you will sit here."
i plopped myself down on the chair and looked around. not many people were watching me, which was nice. i had been sat at the chair closest to the picture of who we were mourning.
i looked across the room at vic. she had her hair wrapped up in a large piece of stiff black cloth. her face looked worn and her skin looked thin. she had the appearance of somebody who does all their crying in private then emerges tired and aloof. i felt bad for her. it's harder to console somebody who is publically trying to keep it together, in fear of unraveling them. when she walked over to me i stretched out my hand and gave her a sympathy nod, resting in the fact that the speakers drowned out our opportunity for conversation.
"AGGGGOOOO!!! AGGGOOOO!!" i don't know why the woman was still screaming, we were all paying attention to her.
i looked at the photograph. vic looked exactly like her mother. they both carried the same expression, of worry and sadness melted into beauty.
a few large crates of bottled soda had been hauled into the center and the dj's had taken over by replacing the woman with very loud music.
there were 4 choices; sprite, cocacola, fanta, and guiness. one man was scooting the red crate along the floor as the other pulled out different drinks and handed them to each person in my row. i was hoping he'd hand me fanta, and he did. somebody ran down our aisle and opened all our drinks, letting our bottle caps fly off and roll on the floor.
i studied the crowd in their outfits. black and red, their funeral colors. everybody was dressed in african fabric, the women in long skirts and creative tops, and most of the men looking the same as secetry, fabric wrapped around their body like a huge body bandage. my dress seemed a little short, exposing my pasty knees and causing me to constantly shift, tugging it down so it wouldn't reach mid thigh. but again, not many people seemed to notice me, so i wasn't too worried. i just sat and drank my orange flavored fanta, wondering if anyone else was going deaf also.
the man who opened my drink was standing in front of me, waiting for something. when i realized everyone else had finished their drinks and handed their bottles back i chugged mine so he could take it and leave. the only problem was, it was too much soda. i handed him the rest and said i couldn't finish it.
"thank you" he said, as he gulped down the last little bit. then he put the bottle back in the crate, balanced it all on his head, and walked out.
i leaned over to secetry and whispered.
"so what are we doing?"
"we are mourning with the family and taking in minerals (soda)."
"oh, okay."
"and we are deciding the date of the funeral."
i was confused.
"isn't this the funeral?" i asked.
"no, this is the one week celebration."
secetry's has the most welcoming face. i like watching it during conversation. his features are round and bubbly.
"but, why do both?"
"because we have to decide on a date for the funeral, so people will come."
i looked around. the place was pretty packed.
"more people than this?" i asked.
"ooooohhhhh yes. more people will come. you see, the people here, they are just representatives for all the rest of their family. they will go back to their villages and tell more people to come."
a tent had been constructed to shade the middle of the courtyard, or considering the weather, maybe it was to protect us all from the chance of rain. either way, the woman on the loudspeaker was explaining the costs of the gathering; minerals, tent and chair rental, speakers, etc.. this was followed up by another lady, slim and energetic with a black plastic bucket on her head, dancing around the room like a wobbly top bending in suggestion of a donation.
i opened my purse and pulled out 10,000 cedis, about one dollar. i crumpled it up so no one could make out the amount and threw it in the bucket. i looked and saw that most contributions were 2,000 cedis.
in situations like this, i never know what is an appropriate amount to give. i have no cultural context, so i crumple the bills and hope i'm not offending.
"let's go." somebody had walked over to me and was pulling me out of my chair. i followed them back outside where a band of people, none of whom i knew, were waiting for me. "follow them." the person said. we walked past the church, behind some houses, into one of them. the house felt relatively modern, with cushioned chairs and a television.
i started to overanalyze why i was feeling so tired, and came to the conclusion that sophies book on tropical diseases is not what i should be reading during down time at the clinic. it had reignited my dormant hypochondria. i was sure my day's lethargy stemmed from being secretly bit by a tsetse fly and now i had the dreaded "sleeping sickness". in a few short days i might be bleeding out all my orfaces.
was i getting my symptoms confused? i tried hard to remember if the sleeping sickness led to bleeding, or was it death?
nobody in the room was speaking so i slowly descended into the depths of paranoid thought, until a saviour walked in the room and turned the television on. i snapped out from where i was at and zoned in on the screen.
"but i loved soloman, why did he have to go away?" the little brunette was asking her blonde babysitter.
i recognized the movie instantly, only because it was on my top 5 favorite from my childhood.
i glanced to the left and to the right. my company seemed to be just as enthralled. none of them knew english but the plot would be easy to follow.
"your mommy sent him away." said the physco nanny.
i was watching "a hand that rocks the cradle" in a tiny west african village. after that thought flashed through my mind i paid no more attention to my current reality as i quickly absorbed myself into the film. i wanted to stay there all day long. it was the perfect situation for my mood.
a tray passed in front of my face, with wadded up chunks of something greasy wrapped in paper towels. tv and papertowels? i plucked one off and didn't take my eyes from the screen while i unwrapped the contents and ate it.
chicken. yum.
i hadn't tasted chicken in quite some time. every night in the village, the meat of choice and availability was fish, from "the big water".
sakola had bought a chicken one day while we were walking down the road. it was a strange experience, only because i thought we were headed on our way to church until a man rode by on a bicycle holding the fowl upside down while trying to balance and steer. he wasn't very coordinated and one of them, either him or the bird, was sure to get hurt. sakola stopped him and suddenly nanakwame appeared from out of nowhere, while they all haggled for a fair price. they settled on 30,000 cedis, 3 dollars. nanakwame ran the chicken back to our house and later when we came home, the chicken had a rooster friend. i still haven't figured out where the rooster came from but i have become calloused to his uniquely harrowing 3 a.m. cry that sounds more like a woman dying in a blender than a rooster crowing. "this bird" sakola says daily, pointing to the chicken as it runs around the yard "this bird, before you leave..." then he makes the motion of slicing its neck.
i'm hoping he means we'll feast on it as a farewell party.
the flavor of the chicken in my mouth now, tasted like the most amazing thing i had ever eaten.
secetry walked in the room. "kessy?! we are going back, come and lets go." he said. i hadn't noticed everyone had shuffled out and i was chewing on the bone like a starved dog.
"is there any more chicken?" i asked.
he just laughed at me and led me out of the house.
"no i'm serious." i said. "is there any more chicken?"
i had come a long way from my devout vegetarianism some years prior, i was now begging for meat.
"it is sweet?"
"YES! very."
"i will try to find you some." he said, the way a good friend would.
we walked back into the room overflowing with people. i was growing tired of being there, mostly because the day was now hot, the music level had increased, and nothing new was happening. when i sat down in my chair the sound waves made my stomach hurt. my body was vibrating to the sound of the beat, i felt like i had swallowed all 6 of the speakers.
ma vic walked over to me and i gave her a look.
"are you okay?" she said.
"yea, i'm okay. is the music loud to you too?" i yelled.
"yes, it's too loud. the speakers are supposed to have gone outside but we didn't have a... whats that thing... extension cord, so they just kept them in here. it's disturbing."
by the look on everyones face they could have been at a relaxing weekend on the lake.
ma vic walked away.
i thought about what sophie had noted a few days earlier. "nobody seems to complain here." she said "i find it really annoying!"
it was true in some situations, like now.
i looked at secetry. "i have to leave, it's too loud! it's hurting my body. i'll be outside." i said.
he followed me out.
i wasn't being a very good guest, but i wasn't sure if anyone really noticed. i hadn't talked to anyone since morning and couldn't stop thinking about leaving.
"secetry, what time is it?"
"why, do you want to leave?"
"yeah, kinda."
"we will go in 30 minutes time, which will make it 3:00. if we leave now, vic will think we don't care. 30 minutes, is that okay?"
"30 minutes is good." it seemed like eternity.
we made small talk, about the house and all the people. i had asked whose house it was.
"it's vic's mothers house. the house is big! it's nice!" he said.
"your house is just as big, it just seems larger because they crammed so many people inside."
"no, my house is too small. it is much smaller than this one."
"you think so?"
"ohh yess."
"well than, don't die. we won't have any place to celebrate you in."
"oh kessy! death-" he said "death, is everyones property."
somebody announced they had come to an agreement on the date of the funeral. news started buzzing around outside that it was set for April 27th and 28th, and i only saw nods of approval.
"will you come?" secetry asked.
"i think so." i answered.
"everybody at the clinic will come; efreeyeh, vera, kingsley. they will all be here. we will dance and have fun. you must come! ahhhahhaaaha"
it sounded like it was going to be a good time.
"okay, i'll be there. definately."
"good, thank you. now lets go."
we said our good byes to vic and made our journey back home.
"how was the funeral?" sophie asked.
i didn't know what to say so i shrugged my shoulders. "i'm tired today. the music was loud and i drank a fanta."
"sounds pretty boring" her accent put a lot of stress on the boring.
"i wouldn't say that, it just wasn't exciting." it dawned on me that i am one of those people, one of those people that don't believe in boredom. i thought of my grandmama, a woman who lives every moment as an artist. growing up, whenever we'd be sitting in her car at a stop light, she'd bend both her hands into what resembled a little looking box, and then she'd peer through it contemplatively, saying
"the good thing about being an artist is..." bending her head left and then right "... you never have a dull moment." she is a painter. "you just do this and whatever is in front of you, life, turns into a working composition."
that wisdom has helped me on long days like this.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
***
Ma had left for the day, and i was told Maame Vic had gone to Kumasi. it was saturday, and i dropped by the health center to check if there were any cases.
the past few days had been busy, mothers were coming in and having babies, and i was learning more and more. the head of the foundation, Dr. Ed Gold, emailed me in response to my complaint that no one was sending for me on weekends and at night.
'you must remember that it is the antenatal aspect that is the most important part of our services.' then he gave me a list of things to check and make sure were being attended to during those visits.
i was glad that he wrote that, it gave me perspective. but the antenatal check-ups with Ma weren't explained very well. most of my questions went unanswered, or i got laughed at. i really scrambled for information and had to be persistent in my questioning.
efreeyeh walked out from the maternity ward and raised her eyebrows. "we have a case, inside." she said. "will you deliver her?"
i wasn't sure if that was the best idea. wasn't there any body more qualified than me around?
"where is vera?" i asked.
"she's in there."
"than let's go."
she turned around and walked back in with me.
"when did she come in?" i asked.
vera replied "this morning. vic said she will deliver at 2. so 4 hours. will you stay to deliver the baby?"
i gave her a long serious look. i wanted to know if the request was a serious one. i assessed the situation.
there was efreeyeh, vera, and me- and a very pregnant woman sweating and snapping her fingers every time she felt pain. snapping fingers seems to be the way to deal with extreme pain in the village. i've noticed it a lot.
i had never seen vera in the delivery room but she struck me as the most competent. that was until she listened for the fetal heart rate. she put the fetascope up to the patients stomach in the wrong direction, and in the place the baby's butt would be.
"the other way." i said.
"oh." she turned it around.
"and listen here" i suggested.
"oh." she laughed.
i wanted to make fun of her only because of the needle incident, to make her feel inexperienced and foolish too. i realized that was not a nice thing to do. so i only laughed at her a little.
"you're laughing at me?" she said, running over to me and swatting my arm.
"efreeyeh, how many babies have you delivered?" i asked, dodging vera's attack.
"two."
"have you already given her a vaginal examination?" i asked.
"yes, she is four cm. vic said she will deliver at 2."
this whole prediction thing was bothering me. they kept walking out of the ward while the woman was sprawled out on the delivery table, in a state that could well produce a child. they were too confidant of vic's guess, and i let them know it. it was the only thing they were resting their faith in, because underneath vic's words 'she will deliver at 2' i felt a swirl of questions and uncertainties arising from us all.
i remember being about 10 years old when family from all over came to stay at our house. cousins, aunts, uncles, they were everywhere. the adults decided they needed a night out and hired a local teenager to babysit all of us. the "nanny" faked confidence in front of my parents and crumbled shortly after they left. my littlest cousin started wailing uncontrollably, meanwhile the other ones got a tangled up ball of string wrapped around our entire house, through every room, knocking down breakables and keeping me running all around. i have a distinct memory of watching the string tugging at a green sea shell shaped ceramic lamp balancing high on a ledge. 2 teen boys had stopped by and only added to the mayhem. dinner burned, diapers were dirty, and where had my brother gone? the feeling was that of slight excitement, because after all- the parents were out! but mostly underneath the thrill was a sense of dread . i was only 10 and i felt responsible for it all.
i could feel that same situation arising, just in a different fashion. this time i was hoping efreeyeh wouldn't take the role of babysitter, but would pull through. i was praying for her ability to shine through. i didn't know how to handle complications so i asked God for a smooth delivery.
"sister akua is going to do the delivery." efreeyeh said.
i had watched Ma's hands time and time again, paying special attention to each maneuver. i was ready if no one else was.
"i'll do it." i said.
we both had gloves on our left hands, they were bloodied from an examination. we heard the screen door open and efreeyeh whipped hers off and yelled at me to do the same. "vic is coming, if she sees the glove she will beat you! throw it away! don't let her see!"
i didn't move.
"akua, she'll insult us, take it off!"
i had a hard time imagining Vic getting angry at us. plus, wasn't she in kumasi?
"akua!"
"efreeyeh! you said Vic was in Kumasi!"
she started laughing, like she was ashamed.
the woman began to heavy moan. the sound was familiar to me now. the baby was coming.
"is Vic here or is she in Kumasi?"
vera walked in the room.
"vera" i asked "where is Vic?"
"she's traveling."
"is she gone?" i needed her to be more clear, but she was intent on being vague. i didn't want to do the delivery if somebody much more qualified was available.
the string was tangling around the house.
the woman started letting out heavy grunts.
"go get Vic." i said.
"she'll come at 2."
it was 1:55.
the baby's head was close to emerging, so i stood in the position that Ma takes when she does the delivery. it also felt the most comfortable for me.
Vera was at the foot of the bed, and Efreeyeh was standing across from me. we were all huddled around with our hands up close. i wanted to gently massage the perineum and stretch it just a small bit to help make room for the child but each time i put my hands up to the woman's vagina Vera moved them out of the way.
"akua don't." she said. then her and Efreeyeh spoke quickly in Twi. i wanted them to back off, let me work my magic, unleash it. but instead of that, the woman let out a great roar, Vera ran around to where i was at, pushed me out of the way, and caught the baby.
i stood there wondering what had just happened.
the baby was crying loudly, thank God, but a strong flow of blood gushed everywhere. more than i had seen before.
i saw the string tangle around the lamp, it was balancing on the edge of the mantel, where were the parents?
"akua ko fa bra!!" efreeyeh was thinking quickly, but i didn't know what she wanted me to go and get.
"in english!" i said.
"the drugs, get the drugs"
i was hoping i wouldn't have to do the injection. even after my lesson it was going to take a longer time than necessary for me to figure out how to get the drug into dispenser. i sensed time was precious.
i went to Vera and took the baby out of her arms. i knew what to do with him. i'd let the two of them take care of the woman. i handed her the ergometrine.
efreeyeh was dripping in sweat, and so was i. the third stage had brought on a slight panic amidst us all. again, i wished i had more education.
blood was everywhere, i put the baby on the table and vera came and started to dress him. there wasn't any form to any of our actions. i went to see what efreeyeh was doing. the cord had been clamped too far down, it should have been done closer to the woman's body. just as i began to distress a little more, Vic walked in.
i looked at the clock. it was 2:01.
she went straight to the base of the bed and looked at what was going on.
"there is a knot in the cord here, do you see? you should always loosen a knot if you see one, it could potentially harm the baby by keeping the blood flow from getting to him. but in this case it seems to have worked out well, you should have clamped the cord up here, see? and she is bleeding too much. have you already injected her?"
efreeyeh explained the situation and everything seemed to have been done correctly.
"has she delivered the placenta?" she asked.
we said no.
efreeyeh and i gathered around her like a mother hen and her chicks, while she walked us through the next few steps of delivery, and then yelled at us for not calling her in earlier.
"did you weigh the baby?" i asked vera. she was wrapping him up in a blanket.
"no" she said. she undressed him and put him on the scale.
everything felt a little off. it helped me to see Ma's experience and grace in a different light. being excellent at something, i thought, is making a difficult task look effortless. Ma was excellent at delivery. i wanted her to come back. she had a lot of control.
the baby and mother ended up leaving the clinic healthy and in tact.
when i showed up to work on Monday morning, Ma threw up her arms. "HEELLOO!!" she said. "so you got a case this weekend!?"
"yesss."
"and was it nice?"
i squinted my eyes, trying to think up a response.
"nice?"
"yes, did you deliver her?"
"no i didn't. vera pushed me out of the way."
was i really tattling?
"she did! aahhhhhhhaahahaaha. so vera delivered her?"
efreeyeh was sitting there quiet and submissive.
"and efreeyeh." i said.
"and did they do it nicely?"
i wasn't jiving with her context of the word "nice", so i didn't say anything. the silence became too awkward and my shrug didn't release Ma's inquisitive eyes so i said "okay okay, just put it this way, i've only ever watched a master." i gave her a little smile. "how can you follow up a master."
it wasn't even 9 a.m. and i had already tattled and now i was kissing up. it felt like childhood all over again.
"well any way, you are all learning. but next time, you will do it." Ma told me.
i looked over at efreeyeh. "you weren't all that bad." i said, and we all laughed. "okay" i said "next time, i'm ready."
the past few days had been busy, mothers were coming in and having babies, and i was learning more and more. the head of the foundation, Dr. Ed Gold, emailed me in response to my complaint that no one was sending for me on weekends and at night.
'you must remember that it is the antenatal aspect that is the most important part of our services.' then he gave me a list of things to check and make sure were being attended to during those visits.
i was glad that he wrote that, it gave me perspective. but the antenatal check-ups with Ma weren't explained very well. most of my questions went unanswered, or i got laughed at. i really scrambled for information and had to be persistent in my questioning.
efreeyeh walked out from the maternity ward and raised her eyebrows. "we have a case, inside." she said. "will you deliver her?"
i wasn't sure if that was the best idea. wasn't there any body more qualified than me around?
"where is vera?" i asked.
"she's in there."
"than let's go."
she turned around and walked back in with me.
"when did she come in?" i asked.
vera replied "this morning. vic said she will deliver at 2. so 4 hours. will you stay to deliver the baby?"
i gave her a long serious look. i wanted to know if the request was a serious one. i assessed the situation.
there was efreeyeh, vera, and me- and a very pregnant woman sweating and snapping her fingers every time she felt pain. snapping fingers seems to be the way to deal with extreme pain in the village. i've noticed it a lot.
i had never seen vera in the delivery room but she struck me as the most competent. that was until she listened for the fetal heart rate. she put the fetascope up to the patients stomach in the wrong direction, and in the place the baby's butt would be.
"the other way." i said.
"oh." she turned it around.
"and listen here" i suggested.
"oh." she laughed.
i wanted to make fun of her only because of the needle incident, to make her feel inexperienced and foolish too. i realized that was not a nice thing to do. so i only laughed at her a little.
"you're laughing at me?" she said, running over to me and swatting my arm.
"efreeyeh, how many babies have you delivered?" i asked, dodging vera's attack.
"two."
"have you already given her a vaginal examination?" i asked.
"yes, she is four cm. vic said she will deliver at 2."
this whole prediction thing was bothering me. they kept walking out of the ward while the woman was sprawled out on the delivery table, in a state that could well produce a child. they were too confidant of vic's guess, and i let them know it. it was the only thing they were resting their faith in, because underneath vic's words 'she will deliver at 2' i felt a swirl of questions and uncertainties arising from us all.
i remember being about 10 years old when family from all over came to stay at our house. cousins, aunts, uncles, they were everywhere. the adults decided they needed a night out and hired a local teenager to babysit all of us. the "nanny" faked confidence in front of my parents and crumbled shortly after they left. my littlest cousin started wailing uncontrollably, meanwhile the other ones got a tangled up ball of string wrapped around our entire house, through every room, knocking down breakables and keeping me running all around. i have a distinct memory of watching the string tugging at a green sea shell shaped ceramic lamp balancing high on a ledge. 2 teen boys had stopped by and only added to the mayhem. dinner burned, diapers were dirty, and where had my brother gone? the feeling was that of slight excitement, because after all- the parents were out! but mostly underneath the thrill was a sense of dread . i was only 10 and i felt responsible for it all.
i could feel that same situation arising, just in a different fashion. this time i was hoping efreeyeh wouldn't take the role of babysitter, but would pull through. i was praying for her ability to shine through. i didn't know how to handle complications so i asked God for a smooth delivery.
"sister akua is going to do the delivery." efreeyeh said.
i had watched Ma's hands time and time again, paying special attention to each maneuver. i was ready if no one else was.
"i'll do it." i said.
we both had gloves on our left hands, they were bloodied from an examination. we heard the screen door open and efreeyeh whipped hers off and yelled at me to do the same. "vic is coming, if she sees the glove she will beat you! throw it away! don't let her see!"
i didn't move.
"akua, she'll insult us, take it off!"
i had a hard time imagining Vic getting angry at us. plus, wasn't she in kumasi?
"akua!"
"efreeyeh! you said Vic was in Kumasi!"
she started laughing, like she was ashamed.
the woman began to heavy moan. the sound was familiar to me now. the baby was coming.
"is Vic here or is she in Kumasi?"
vera walked in the room.
"vera" i asked "where is Vic?"
"she's traveling."
"is she gone?" i needed her to be more clear, but she was intent on being vague. i didn't want to do the delivery if somebody much more qualified was available.
the string was tangling around the house.
the woman started letting out heavy grunts.
"go get Vic." i said.
"she'll come at 2."
it was 1:55.
the baby's head was close to emerging, so i stood in the position that Ma takes when she does the delivery. it also felt the most comfortable for me.
Vera was at the foot of the bed, and Efreeyeh was standing across from me. we were all huddled around with our hands up close. i wanted to gently massage the perineum and stretch it just a small bit to help make room for the child but each time i put my hands up to the woman's vagina Vera moved them out of the way.
"akua don't." she said. then her and Efreeyeh spoke quickly in Twi. i wanted them to back off, let me work my magic, unleash it. but instead of that, the woman let out a great roar, Vera ran around to where i was at, pushed me out of the way, and caught the baby.
i stood there wondering what had just happened.
the baby was crying loudly, thank God, but a strong flow of blood gushed everywhere. more than i had seen before.
i saw the string tangle around the lamp, it was balancing on the edge of the mantel, where were the parents?
"akua ko fa bra!!" efreeyeh was thinking quickly, but i didn't know what she wanted me to go and get.
"in english!" i said.
"the drugs, get the drugs"
i was hoping i wouldn't have to do the injection. even after my lesson it was going to take a longer time than necessary for me to figure out how to get the drug into dispenser. i sensed time was precious.
i went to Vera and took the baby out of her arms. i knew what to do with him. i'd let the two of them take care of the woman. i handed her the ergometrine.
efreeyeh was dripping in sweat, and so was i. the third stage had brought on a slight panic amidst us all. again, i wished i had more education.
blood was everywhere, i put the baby on the table and vera came and started to dress him. there wasn't any form to any of our actions. i went to see what efreeyeh was doing. the cord had been clamped too far down, it should have been done closer to the woman's body. just as i began to distress a little more, Vic walked in.
i looked at the clock. it was 2:01.
she went straight to the base of the bed and looked at what was going on.
"there is a knot in the cord here, do you see? you should always loosen a knot if you see one, it could potentially harm the baby by keeping the blood flow from getting to him. but in this case it seems to have worked out well, you should have clamped the cord up here, see? and she is bleeding too much. have you already injected her?"
efreeyeh explained the situation and everything seemed to have been done correctly.
"has she delivered the placenta?" she asked.
we said no.
efreeyeh and i gathered around her like a mother hen and her chicks, while she walked us through the next few steps of delivery, and then yelled at us for not calling her in earlier.
"did you weigh the baby?" i asked vera. she was wrapping him up in a blanket.
"no" she said. she undressed him and put him on the scale.
everything felt a little off. it helped me to see Ma's experience and grace in a different light. being excellent at something, i thought, is making a difficult task look effortless. Ma was excellent at delivery. i wanted her to come back. she had a lot of control.
the baby and mother ended up leaving the clinic healthy and in tact.
when i showed up to work on Monday morning, Ma threw up her arms. "HEELLOO!!" she said. "so you got a case this weekend!?"
"yesss."
"and was it nice?"
i squinted my eyes, trying to think up a response.
"nice?"
"yes, did you deliver her?"
"no i didn't. vera pushed me out of the way."
was i really tattling?
"she did! aahhhhhhhaahahaaha. so vera delivered her?"
efreeyeh was sitting there quiet and submissive.
"and efreeyeh." i said.
"and did they do it nicely?"
i wasn't jiving with her context of the word "nice", so i didn't say anything. the silence became too awkward and my shrug didn't release Ma's inquisitive eyes so i said "okay okay, just put it this way, i've only ever watched a master." i gave her a little smile. "how can you follow up a master."
it wasn't even 9 a.m. and i had already tattled and now i was kissing up. it felt like childhood all over again.
"well any way, you are all learning. but next time, you will do it." Ma told me.
i looked over at efreeyeh. "you weren't all that bad." i said, and we all laughed. "okay" i said "next time, i'm ready."
real community education!
"your friend has not even come into my office to greet me. why? Hmpf."
it was sophie's second day at work, and nobody had informed her of the importance of greeting in the Ghanaian culture. she had gone into Maame Vic's office to work with her for the day, leaving Ma stewing behind her desk, feeling unappreciated.
"Ma, she's new. she doesn't know that she is supposed to say hello to everyone." i said.
"but i was even wondering about her and worrying about her. did you see? i asked you what she ate this morning? see how i care? and she doesn't even come to say hello and ask me how i am."
"but from where we are, people just go to work and sit behind their desks. they don't visit every department and ask how everyone is doing, so she doesn't understand!" i tried explaining again.
"yes but i even had gladys bring her tea. and we are in Ghana, don't you see? so you have to greet."
"you're right. so why don't i go and tell her. i'm sure she'd want to know." i said.
"yes you should do that."
i got up and began to walk away.
"but Kaisy!" Ma whispered loudly. she bent down low to her desk, her chin was sweeping across the top of the plastic tablecloth. "you shouldn't tell her i sent you and don't let her know of what i was saying. just inform her but don't mention me."
just as she was saying this, the screen door opened and Sophie walked in.
"good morning!" she was cheerful and energetic.
"good morning" Ma said, chuckling softly.
she cut right to the chase.
"in just a short while i'm going to be doing a little workshop over outside Victoria's office. we'll just be reviewing how to do a proper injection. i wanted to invite you, if you're interested?"
Ma nodded.
Sophia looked at me.
"we'll come." i said.
"alright then, we are just about to start so..." she motioned for us to follow. Ma scooted her chair back and removed herself from her spot. we walked across to Maame Vic's office.
3 white wooden benches had been arranged in a triangle shape, with a chalkboard on the outside. Secetry, Kingsley, Efreeyeh, Vera, Ma and i all sat down with Sophie.
"alright" she started "today we are going to learn about injections."
i had made a poor choice. i sat next to kingsley, whom i adore, but who also happens to douse himself in cheap cologne religiously. its as if he has been dipped in a huge vat in some knock off perfume factory, emerging extremely potent. my cheeks were already starting to sweat and my head was getting cloudy, but i wanted to learn how to do a shot so i wasn't moving.
Vera and efreeyeh had teamed up on the bench across from me. they were already nudging elbows and laughing at me.
Sophie was an excellent teacher, involving everyone, and going through an interactive step by step of the correct way to perform an injection. vera had brought in a piece of foam, with a butt drawn on it.
"now" sophie said "does anyone know the region where you are supposed inject in?" holding the foam up, one cheek drawn bigger than the other in thick red marker.
we all did.
"that's right, divide the bum into four parts, and it is the upper outside that you want to go for, does anybody know why?"
nobody did.
she explained it to us, and i was thankful for her education and desire to teach.
she took out an ampule of medicine.
"here is a trick i never knew" she said as she popped the glass in half, creating a perfect break. "the glass has been designed with a weak spot in it. if you look closely there is a dot. break the glass in the opposite direction of the dot and it will work perfectly."
i shot efreeyeh a look. any time she had filled a needle full of ergometrine she had held the bottom of the ampule and smashed the top open, leaving the floor scattered in little glass shards. i considered this dangerous, mostly because women in the ward pace barefoot, and the glass is never swept up. i didn't know their was an alternative.
"you see, so you just break it like that, and it works just fine! i've been practicing for 7 years now and not once have i cut myself. then, go like this" she flipped the liquid filled container upside down and not one drop fell out "...MAGIC! i can't explain it but trust it. pretty neat huh?"
we were all amazed.
"now, who wants to attempt an injection?"
i forced myself to say i wanted to. "i've never given a shot before" i admitted. everyone laughed. i was a little nervous. i wasn't receiving much confidence from my girls, Ma was just staring at me blankly, i had my back to Kingsley and Secetry seemed just as inexperienced as i.
"alright" Sophie said, handing me the needle.
vera yelled out "be bold kacie! bring the boldness from california! ahhhaahha"
my hands shook and the entire ordeal was awkward. i didn't like it at all. i stabbed the foam with a little too much force, glad that it wasn't human.
Ma sighed through my lack of experience. secetry winced. "oh kessy, you are forceful, ei!" his body shuddered.
my fingers weren't swift and fluid, i became incredibly self-conscious. the fact that i had commentators didn't help much either.
"i don't know how to do it!"
i didn't want to be under their scruntity for my first attempt. i'd prefer to try secretly in my room for weeks until i got it perfect. then i'd show up at work and perform it seamlessly, quietly walking around, sneaking up on my coworkers and sticking needles into their flesh. "haha! see how experienced i am now!"
Sophie had to get up and help Maame Vic in the office with a patient. "by the time i'm back you all should try it at least once." then she left.
Ma stood up and walked back to her office. i handed the needle to Kingsley, who was just as unfamiliar with it as i, and he injected the inside part of the buttocks. i instantly felt better, except his mistakes seemed to be less funny to everyone. no one laughed.
"this bench is the learning bench!" i declared, trying to ease my discomfort.
the needle made it's way around to each person by the time sophie returned. then she took the needle back and held it up. "okay! now that we are finished, what should we do with this needle?"
if she wanted to know what they HAD been doing with contaminated needles she probably wouldn't have liked the answer. there was no method of discarding them, they just got tossed into bins and then thrown out somewhere behind the clinic.
"what do you do with a contaminated needle?" she asked again.
no one said a thing. then efreeyeh offered a very general answer. "throw them away?."
"yeeessss" sophie said "but how? just like this?"
we all looked at each other. i piped up. "that's how we've been throwing them away."
"just exposed like this?" she asked.
"yes."
i thought of the big blue plastic bucket in the labor ward, with membranes, feces, urine, cloth, the case's placenta, and needles floating around in it. i never felt comfortable handing the bucket over to a family member and instructing them to sift through the matter and wash their sister's cloths, but Ma informed that was 'their way'.
the manner in which we had been dealing with needles was unacceptable, for obvious reasons. the next 15 minutes were spent brainstorming as a team how we could change this hazard.
we devised a simple method of discarding them safely and then burning them.
the teaching session came to a close.
it was informational and very basic. all these things needed to be taught. these changes needed to be made. community education/outreach is a buzz word, which works it up into something it is not. it is not some grand intimidating hierarchical notion. its accessible.
it is grassroots.
it is a few people, sitting around on wooden benches, learning from each other, sticking needles into foam bottoms, even if their hands shake. it's one less person possibly becoming infected with HIV, because of a morning well spent.
it's the little things, and i was glad sofie was there to remind me of that.
it was sophie's second day at work, and nobody had informed her of the importance of greeting in the Ghanaian culture. she had gone into Maame Vic's office to work with her for the day, leaving Ma stewing behind her desk, feeling unappreciated.
"Ma, she's new. she doesn't know that she is supposed to say hello to everyone." i said.
"but i was even wondering about her and worrying about her. did you see? i asked you what she ate this morning? see how i care? and she doesn't even come to say hello and ask me how i am."
"but from where we are, people just go to work and sit behind their desks. they don't visit every department and ask how everyone is doing, so she doesn't understand!" i tried explaining again.
"yes but i even had gladys bring her tea. and we are in Ghana, don't you see? so you have to greet."
"you're right. so why don't i go and tell her. i'm sure she'd want to know." i said.
"yes you should do that."
i got up and began to walk away.
"but Kaisy!" Ma whispered loudly. she bent down low to her desk, her chin was sweeping across the top of the plastic tablecloth. "you shouldn't tell her i sent you and don't let her know of what i was saying. just inform her but don't mention me."
just as she was saying this, the screen door opened and Sophie walked in.
"good morning!" she was cheerful and energetic.
"good morning" Ma said, chuckling softly.
she cut right to the chase.
"in just a short while i'm going to be doing a little workshop over outside Victoria's office. we'll just be reviewing how to do a proper injection. i wanted to invite you, if you're interested?"
Ma nodded.
Sophia looked at me.
"we'll come." i said.
"alright then, we are just about to start so..." she motioned for us to follow. Ma scooted her chair back and removed herself from her spot. we walked across to Maame Vic's office.
3 white wooden benches had been arranged in a triangle shape, with a chalkboard on the outside. Secetry, Kingsley, Efreeyeh, Vera, Ma and i all sat down with Sophie.
"alright" she started "today we are going to learn about injections."
i had made a poor choice. i sat next to kingsley, whom i adore, but who also happens to douse himself in cheap cologne religiously. its as if he has been dipped in a huge vat in some knock off perfume factory, emerging extremely potent. my cheeks were already starting to sweat and my head was getting cloudy, but i wanted to learn how to do a shot so i wasn't moving.
Vera and efreeyeh had teamed up on the bench across from me. they were already nudging elbows and laughing at me.
Sophie was an excellent teacher, involving everyone, and going through an interactive step by step of the correct way to perform an injection. vera had brought in a piece of foam, with a butt drawn on it.
"now" sophie said "does anyone know the region where you are supposed inject in?" holding the foam up, one cheek drawn bigger than the other in thick red marker.
we all did.
"that's right, divide the bum into four parts, and it is the upper outside that you want to go for, does anybody know why?"
nobody did.
she explained it to us, and i was thankful for her education and desire to teach.
she took out an ampule of medicine.
"here is a trick i never knew" she said as she popped the glass in half, creating a perfect break. "the glass has been designed with a weak spot in it. if you look closely there is a dot. break the glass in the opposite direction of the dot and it will work perfectly."
i shot efreeyeh a look. any time she had filled a needle full of ergometrine she had held the bottom of the ampule and smashed the top open, leaving the floor scattered in little glass shards. i considered this dangerous, mostly because women in the ward pace barefoot, and the glass is never swept up. i didn't know their was an alternative.
"you see, so you just break it like that, and it works just fine! i've been practicing for 7 years now and not once have i cut myself. then, go like this" she flipped the liquid filled container upside down and not one drop fell out "...MAGIC! i can't explain it but trust it. pretty neat huh?"
we were all amazed.
"now, who wants to attempt an injection?"
i forced myself to say i wanted to. "i've never given a shot before" i admitted. everyone laughed. i was a little nervous. i wasn't receiving much confidence from my girls, Ma was just staring at me blankly, i had my back to Kingsley and Secetry seemed just as inexperienced as i.
"alright" Sophie said, handing me the needle.
vera yelled out "be bold kacie! bring the boldness from california! ahhhaahha"
my hands shook and the entire ordeal was awkward. i didn't like it at all. i stabbed the foam with a little too much force, glad that it wasn't human.
Ma sighed through my lack of experience. secetry winced. "oh kessy, you are forceful, ei!" his body shuddered.
my fingers weren't swift and fluid, i became incredibly self-conscious. the fact that i had commentators didn't help much either.
"i don't know how to do it!"
i didn't want to be under their scruntity for my first attempt. i'd prefer to try secretly in my room for weeks until i got it perfect. then i'd show up at work and perform it seamlessly, quietly walking around, sneaking up on my coworkers and sticking needles into their flesh. "haha! see how experienced i am now!"
Sophie had to get up and help Maame Vic in the office with a patient. "by the time i'm back you all should try it at least once." then she left.
Ma stood up and walked back to her office. i handed the needle to Kingsley, who was just as unfamiliar with it as i, and he injected the inside part of the buttocks. i instantly felt better, except his mistakes seemed to be less funny to everyone. no one laughed.
"this bench is the learning bench!" i declared, trying to ease my discomfort.
the needle made it's way around to each person by the time sophie returned. then she took the needle back and held it up. "okay! now that we are finished, what should we do with this needle?"
if she wanted to know what they HAD been doing with contaminated needles she probably wouldn't have liked the answer. there was no method of discarding them, they just got tossed into bins and then thrown out somewhere behind the clinic.
"what do you do with a contaminated needle?" she asked again.
no one said a thing. then efreeyeh offered a very general answer. "throw them away?."
"yeeessss" sophie said "but how? just like this?"
we all looked at each other. i piped up. "that's how we've been throwing them away."
"just exposed like this?" she asked.
"yes."
i thought of the big blue plastic bucket in the labor ward, with membranes, feces, urine, cloth, the case's placenta, and needles floating around in it. i never felt comfortable handing the bucket over to a family member and instructing them to sift through the matter and wash their sister's cloths, but Ma informed that was 'their way'.
the manner in which we had been dealing with needles was unacceptable, for obvious reasons. the next 15 minutes were spent brainstorming as a team how we could change this hazard.
we devised a simple method of discarding them safely and then burning them.
the teaching session came to a close.
it was informational and very basic. all these things needed to be taught. these changes needed to be made. community education/outreach is a buzz word, which works it up into something it is not. it is not some grand intimidating hierarchical notion. its accessible.
it is grassroots.
it is a few people, sitting around on wooden benches, learning from each other, sticking needles into foam bottoms, even if their hands shake. it's one less person possibly becoming infected with HIV, because of a morning well spent.
it's the little things, and i was glad sofie was there to remind me of that.
akwaaba
the volunteer arrived, and it wasn't a German man.
in the twi language, there is no differentiation between the pronouns "he" and "she", the same word is used for both. this has caused a many slightly confusing conversations, because a twi speaker using english interchanges the two quite freely, without a second thought. english being my first language i get held up on this little detail quite easily.
some examples...
"kacie? your sister, is he beautiful? would he marry me? ask him?"
or
"my father went to the market. she won't stay long because she is sick with malaria and wants to come home and rest. he is buying a cloth for her wife. he is sewing a dress."
i've learned to let go of my control over pronouns and let the miscommunication settle itself. so when the car pulled up at the clinic, with 2 foreign volunteers, i wasn't surprised to learn that neither of them were german, and it was the woman who was the doctor and had planned to stay and work.
i laughed. "welcome any way." i said "i was told you were a german man!"
"oh no! why, are you disappointed?" she asked.
"not at all." i was glad to have another female around. and i didn't mind her boyfriend, he had some pretty strong feminine energy.
"i'm kacie." i shook his hand, it was so pale.
"i'm andrew." he said "and that is sophie." she had been bombarded by all the other people that wanted to meet her too.
"so are you both here? or whats going on?" i was a bit confused. "and who is the doctor?" i just wanted to make sure.
"sophie is the doctor. i'm volunteering at Agogo Hospital so i'm just visiting for a bit. came to see the place and help sophie settle in."
it had been quite some time since i had made conversation with a white man. it jostled me.
"so where are you from?" i asked.
"i am from britain."
"and sofie?"
"she's swiss, but lives in london."
"you both look young." sophie walked back over. "how old are you?" i asked.
"i'm 30 years old." she said, giving me a little sly look, as if she'd been told she looked younger than her age many times before.
andrews face was welcoming. his eyes were alert and spoke more than his mouth. he reminded me of a very good therapist. their accents were nice to listen to and their choice of words kept my ears constantly interested.
i liked sofie right when i met her. i observed her interacting. she seemed confidant, but not overly. she laughed a lot and was flexible. the two arrived as a couple but operated as individuals. i let out a sigh of relief.
"andrew? do you reckon we should leave our bags here or take them back to the house? i've got heaps of supplies that i don't want to carry back here. i'd much rather just leave them. but..." she went off calculating just what she should do.
"have you been to the house yet?" i asked.
"no, not yet. we've just come straight from Agogo." he said.
this should be interesting, i thought.
"let's just go to the house and drop our bags there. then we can sort through them and bring whatever back." she decided.
"what do you have?" i asked.
"loads and loads of books mostly." she said.
Secetry walked up. "the car is waiting. will you go with them to show them the place?"
"yes" i answered. but in a way i felt silly. i wasn't sure if they wanted me tagging along. oh well, i'll be overly hospitable, it's the ghanaian way. if it bothers them they'll just have to get used to it.
the van chugged down the road. it felt luxurious to be riding in a 16 seater with only a few of us. i stretched my legs.
a few minutes later, after many waves out the car window to the locals staring at the strange trio, we pulled up at our gate.
"is this it?" sofie asked.
"yup!" i said.
andrew started letting out little gasps that were half laugh half shock.
"it's quite out of place, don't you think?" he said.
he hadn't even stepped inside the courtyard yet and he already could tell.
we walked through the gate and auntie, chief, and sakola were tending to a big pile of maize spread out on a blue tarp. they looked up at us.
"maaha (good afternoon)" i said.
auntie gave a little nod and chief kept working. sakola walked over and introduced himself. he asked them a few questions in twi, which went unanswered and unnoticed. "they don't speak twi yet" i told him. so he tried in english and they all had a good laugh.
"this area is quite large, isn't it?" andrew said looking at me. i smirked. "what would be the reason for building such a massive front yard?"
sofie had already made her way onto the front porch and was peering through the tinted windows into the first room. i was wondering what they thought of the carcass flagpole, but decided it'd be too early to ask.
i hadn't really noticed that our house had columns. 4 of them, large and foreign, rested in intervals attached to the porch.
we waited for sakola to bring the key, while admiring the design of the porch.
he eventually yelled up to us.
"i'm waiting for the key!" i said.
he told me the door wasn't locked. i pushed on it hard and it opened. then he yelled at me for being foolish in front of my new friends.
sofie practically ran down the hallway while andrew and i lagged behind and talked about the property. when she turned the corner into our living room she yelled
"this is the biggest flat i've ever lived in! i could do my yoga in here!"
i immediately felt unoriginal, mostly because that was my first thought too when i saw the room. i had a strange awareness in that moment. for months i had been made to believe i was something extremely original, bordering freakish, an anomaly. sofie was shattering my false belief.
she was exploring the house like a ballet dancer, moving gracefully from one room to the next quite intrigued with it all. andrew followed her closely and i just hung back, waiting. i heard them asking each other where the bathroom was, noting the electricity hook-ups, and excited about how 'nice' the house was.
they walked out from sophies room.
i answered some of their questions, but wasn't sure what to leave for them to figure out on their own. there is so much beauty in self-discovery.
"the toilet is outside, behind the house where the papaya trees are." i said. "don't sit on it. go like this." i showed her how to go to the bathroom, which felt a little funny because i didn't know her or andrew and i was improv-ing private matters, but it was a useful tip that took me weeks to figure out.
she gave a long slow nod, "ahhhhh okay."
her mind was quick, i could already tell. both she and andrew wondered about everything; how things were built, how they operated. they focused on details i would never think to ask. i felt very different in that regard.
"the house doesn't have electricity and we fetch our water from the well. you just carry it in and then you can bathe in your bathroom. but don't pour water down the sink, it's not hooked up properly." i advised. i figured that one out a month after spitting toothpaste down a pipe that goes underneath the house.
andrew had a perplexed look on his face. "this place is really strange." he said. "it's almost as if it is half completed. who lives here?"
"yes, how many rooms are there?" sophie asked.
"there are 5 rooms and i'm not really sure who lives here. definitely sakola. he's the guy you met outside."
"safola?"
"sakola."
"sakola? okay, sakola. sakola. who else?"
"there is a boy named chief who stays in that room around the corner. and the rest of the rooms well, just pretend we live in a hostel, that might make it a little easier. half hostel, half church. okay?" i would have told them about collins and nanakwame but i wasn't sure they would be coming here. i'd wait.
they looked up and around, at the walls and ceiling, over at the cushion less couches pushed against the walls, not to be used. they laughed at the situation.
"whats going on with that?" andrew asked, pointing at the sofa.
"um, i don't really know except they are supposed to stay like that. i haven't seen anyone sit on them."
he pointed at a door in the living room with big wood boards nailed across it. "and that?"
"oh, i guess i've never noticed that. the room on the other side is sort of like a closed in porch, we keep our pet rat in there. but he's lost. if we go out to the porch we can get in that way. i'll show you, c'mon."
he and i walked around to the front. i noticed his posture, it wasn't straight and powerful like the men i had seen here. he was curved, and slumped. i thought about something someone had said on my first trip to africa, when i was in kenya.
"it's not good to carry your babies tied to your back the way they do here, they'll grow up to have weak backs." she was from america.
i thought of the millions of african people i had seen and how strong and perfectly able they are. then i looked at Andrew. we made our way to the porch and i saw my reflection. i tried my hardest to stand up straight, shoulders back. it was uncomfortable.
"okay, that maize, that they're working with over there used to be in here." we walked into the outdoor/indoor room connected to the porch. "over here is where we dump our scraps to plumpen up our little buddy. but we think he's gone down beneath the ground, so Sakola sticks yam chunks into this hole right here."
if we kept feeding the bushmeat like this he would become too big to come back out through the hole he crawled in. then he'd just die and rot in there and stink everything up.
andrew was observing and carefully assessing the household situation. "so the rat lives under there?"
"yes. and we are going to eat it."
"eat it?"
"uh huh, you'll have to come to the dinner whenever it happens."
"ah hu huh ha, alright."
we walked back outside and chatted some more.
"this living arrangement is much better than i had expected. we were told we were going out into the middle of the bush. i thought sophie was going to be sleeping..." he moved his hand close to the ground.
"...in a mud hut!" i said.
"YES!!!"
we laughed.
she almost had to but i didn't mention that.
the rest of the day was spent touring the surroundings, introducing the two to the folks in the village, and translating a bit. i had learned more twi than i had given myself credit for. i also knew more about the village people, their personal lives and connections, than i realized. we eventually made our way back to the clinic, where sophie saw her first patient.
i sat in the office and talked with andrew about boamadumase.
sophie walked back in after having been gone for quite some time.
"well!" she exclaimed "i've just seen my first patient! a young boy whose teacher hit him on the head with a board eraser."
"was the wound bad?" i asked.
"ah yes, it was quite deep."
she gave andrew a look that was full of life.
they were in africa. it was her first time here and everything was fresh. she had committed to throwing herself into life at huttel health center.
"so i assume corporal punishment is accepted here." she said.
being around her reminded me of home. she was driven and motivated and wanting to work hard. i liked that. it also seemed out of place. the village moves slow.
i couldn't imagine her napping at noontime.
i was sure that africa was going to soften her and slow her down just a little, but we'd just have to wait and see.
in the twi language, there is no differentiation between the pronouns "he" and "she", the same word is used for both. this has caused a many slightly confusing conversations, because a twi speaker using english interchanges the two quite freely, without a second thought. english being my first language i get held up on this little detail quite easily.
some examples...
"kacie? your sister, is he beautiful? would he marry me? ask him?"
or
"my father went to the market. she won't stay long because she is sick with malaria and wants to come home and rest. he is buying a cloth for her wife. he is sewing a dress."
i've learned to let go of my control over pronouns and let the miscommunication settle itself. so when the car pulled up at the clinic, with 2 foreign volunteers, i wasn't surprised to learn that neither of them were german, and it was the woman who was the doctor and had planned to stay and work.
i laughed. "welcome any way." i said "i was told you were a german man!"
"oh no! why, are you disappointed?" she asked.
"not at all." i was glad to have another female around. and i didn't mind her boyfriend, he had some pretty strong feminine energy.
"i'm kacie." i shook his hand, it was so pale.
"i'm andrew." he said "and that is sophie." she had been bombarded by all the other people that wanted to meet her too.
"so are you both here? or whats going on?" i was a bit confused. "and who is the doctor?" i just wanted to make sure.
"sophie is the doctor. i'm volunteering at Agogo Hospital so i'm just visiting for a bit. came to see the place and help sophie settle in."
it had been quite some time since i had made conversation with a white man. it jostled me.
"so where are you from?" i asked.
"i am from britain."
"and sofie?"
"she's swiss, but lives in london."
"you both look young." sophie walked back over. "how old are you?" i asked.
"i'm 30 years old." she said, giving me a little sly look, as if she'd been told she looked younger than her age many times before.
andrews face was welcoming. his eyes were alert and spoke more than his mouth. he reminded me of a very good therapist. their accents were nice to listen to and their choice of words kept my ears constantly interested.
i liked sofie right when i met her. i observed her interacting. she seemed confidant, but not overly. she laughed a lot and was flexible. the two arrived as a couple but operated as individuals. i let out a sigh of relief.
"andrew? do you reckon we should leave our bags here or take them back to the house? i've got heaps of supplies that i don't want to carry back here. i'd much rather just leave them. but..." she went off calculating just what she should do.
"have you been to the house yet?" i asked.
"no, not yet. we've just come straight from Agogo." he said.
this should be interesting, i thought.
"let's just go to the house and drop our bags there. then we can sort through them and bring whatever back." she decided.
"what do you have?" i asked.
"loads and loads of books mostly." she said.
Secetry walked up. "the car is waiting. will you go with them to show them the place?"
"yes" i answered. but in a way i felt silly. i wasn't sure if they wanted me tagging along. oh well, i'll be overly hospitable, it's the ghanaian way. if it bothers them they'll just have to get used to it.
the van chugged down the road. it felt luxurious to be riding in a 16 seater with only a few of us. i stretched my legs.
a few minutes later, after many waves out the car window to the locals staring at the strange trio, we pulled up at our gate.
"is this it?" sofie asked.
"yup!" i said.
andrew started letting out little gasps that were half laugh half shock.
"it's quite out of place, don't you think?" he said.
he hadn't even stepped inside the courtyard yet and he already could tell.
we walked through the gate and auntie, chief, and sakola were tending to a big pile of maize spread out on a blue tarp. they looked up at us.
"maaha (good afternoon)" i said.
auntie gave a little nod and chief kept working. sakola walked over and introduced himself. he asked them a few questions in twi, which went unanswered and unnoticed. "they don't speak twi yet" i told him. so he tried in english and they all had a good laugh.
"this area is quite large, isn't it?" andrew said looking at me. i smirked. "what would be the reason for building such a massive front yard?"
sofie had already made her way onto the front porch and was peering through the tinted windows into the first room. i was wondering what they thought of the carcass flagpole, but decided it'd be too early to ask.
i hadn't really noticed that our house had columns. 4 of them, large and foreign, rested in intervals attached to the porch.
we waited for sakola to bring the key, while admiring the design of the porch.
he eventually yelled up to us.
"i'm waiting for the key!" i said.
he told me the door wasn't locked. i pushed on it hard and it opened. then he yelled at me for being foolish in front of my new friends.
sofie practically ran down the hallway while andrew and i lagged behind and talked about the property. when she turned the corner into our living room she yelled
"this is the biggest flat i've ever lived in! i could do my yoga in here!"
i immediately felt unoriginal, mostly because that was my first thought too when i saw the room. i had a strange awareness in that moment. for months i had been made to believe i was something extremely original, bordering freakish, an anomaly. sofie was shattering my false belief.
she was exploring the house like a ballet dancer, moving gracefully from one room to the next quite intrigued with it all. andrew followed her closely and i just hung back, waiting. i heard them asking each other where the bathroom was, noting the electricity hook-ups, and excited about how 'nice' the house was.
they walked out from sophies room.
i answered some of their questions, but wasn't sure what to leave for them to figure out on their own. there is so much beauty in self-discovery.
"the toilet is outside, behind the house where the papaya trees are." i said. "don't sit on it. go like this." i showed her how to go to the bathroom, which felt a little funny because i didn't know her or andrew and i was improv-ing private matters, but it was a useful tip that took me weeks to figure out.
she gave a long slow nod, "ahhhhh okay."
her mind was quick, i could already tell. both she and andrew wondered about everything; how things were built, how they operated. they focused on details i would never think to ask. i felt very different in that regard.
"the house doesn't have electricity and we fetch our water from the well. you just carry it in and then you can bathe in your bathroom. but don't pour water down the sink, it's not hooked up properly." i advised. i figured that one out a month after spitting toothpaste down a pipe that goes underneath the house.
andrew had a perplexed look on his face. "this place is really strange." he said. "it's almost as if it is half completed. who lives here?"
"yes, how many rooms are there?" sophie asked.
"there are 5 rooms and i'm not really sure who lives here. definitely sakola. he's the guy you met outside."
"safola?"
"sakola."
"sakola? okay, sakola. sakola. who else?"
"there is a boy named chief who stays in that room around the corner. and the rest of the rooms well, just pretend we live in a hostel, that might make it a little easier. half hostel, half church. okay?" i would have told them about collins and nanakwame but i wasn't sure they would be coming here. i'd wait.
they looked up and around, at the walls and ceiling, over at the cushion less couches pushed against the walls, not to be used. they laughed at the situation.
"whats going on with that?" andrew asked, pointing at the sofa.
"um, i don't really know except they are supposed to stay like that. i haven't seen anyone sit on them."
he pointed at a door in the living room with big wood boards nailed across it. "and that?"
"oh, i guess i've never noticed that. the room on the other side is sort of like a closed in porch, we keep our pet rat in there. but he's lost. if we go out to the porch we can get in that way. i'll show you, c'mon."
he and i walked around to the front. i noticed his posture, it wasn't straight and powerful like the men i had seen here. he was curved, and slumped. i thought about something someone had said on my first trip to africa, when i was in kenya.
"it's not good to carry your babies tied to your back the way they do here, they'll grow up to have weak backs." she was from america.
i thought of the millions of african people i had seen and how strong and perfectly able they are. then i looked at Andrew. we made our way to the porch and i saw my reflection. i tried my hardest to stand up straight, shoulders back. it was uncomfortable.
"okay, that maize, that they're working with over there used to be in here." we walked into the outdoor/indoor room connected to the porch. "over here is where we dump our scraps to plumpen up our little buddy. but we think he's gone down beneath the ground, so Sakola sticks yam chunks into this hole right here."
if we kept feeding the bushmeat like this he would become too big to come back out through the hole he crawled in. then he'd just die and rot in there and stink everything up.
andrew was observing and carefully assessing the household situation. "so the rat lives under there?"
"yes. and we are going to eat it."
"eat it?"
"uh huh, you'll have to come to the dinner whenever it happens."
"ah hu huh ha, alright."
we walked back outside and chatted some more.
"this living arrangement is much better than i had expected. we were told we were going out into the middle of the bush. i thought sophie was going to be sleeping..." he moved his hand close to the ground.
"...in a mud hut!" i said.
"YES!!!"
we laughed.
she almost had to but i didn't mention that.
the rest of the day was spent touring the surroundings, introducing the two to the folks in the village, and translating a bit. i had learned more twi than i had given myself credit for. i also knew more about the village people, their personal lives and connections, than i realized. we eventually made our way back to the clinic, where sophie saw her first patient.
i sat in the office and talked with andrew about boamadumase.
sophie walked back in after having been gone for quite some time.
"well!" she exclaimed "i've just seen my first patient! a young boy whose teacher hit him on the head with a board eraser."
"was the wound bad?" i asked.
"ah yes, it was quite deep."
she gave andrew a look that was full of life.
they were in africa. it was her first time here and everything was fresh. she had committed to throwing herself into life at huttel health center.
"so i assume corporal punishment is accepted here." she said.
being around her reminded me of home. she was driven and motivated and wanting to work hard. i liked that. it also seemed out of place. the village moves slow.
i couldn't imagine her napping at noontime.
i was sure that africa was going to soften her and slow her down just a little, but we'd just have to wait and see.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
preparation for "my friend"
"your friend will be here the day after tomorrow! ahh you are happy i can tell!"
Secetry kept calling the German man whose visit we had all been awaiting, "my friend". in fact everyone at the clinic was calling him "my friend". this was strictly based off the fact that he was white too.
"but what if i don't want him to be my friend?" i teased.
"he is white and you are white" Vera joked as she passed me in the clinic hallway "so you have no choice."
"what if he's a killer, then can i have a choice?"
"NO!" Secetry and Vera agreed.
"okay then, what if i want my killer friend to be your husband, how about that? and i won't give you any say!"
we all laughed.
it was probably a good thing the volunteer had delayed in coming. he was supposed to have arrived at the beginning of January, and it was the end. but Auntie had become like an obstinate little child during that time and decided the volunteer was not allowed to live in our house. he would have to find some other accommodation.
"but there isn't any other accommodation?" i told Secetry. it was his job to oversee foreign visitors and work out the details.
"yes, i know this. i will beg auntie to let your friend stay with you, but in the meantime let us go walk through the village and look for a place."
we walked slowly, greeting people, and scoping homes built of mud and sticks. "i think the volunteer would prefer a room in my house."
"haha, i agree. i am meeting with auntie tonite, let us pray she gives us the room, then your friend will have a nice place to stay just as you have had a nice place to stay."
we parted and i walked back home. auntie was on the porch, chewing on something and mumbling under her breath. i sat down next to her.
"the oburoni is coming soon" i said.
she grunted.
she had told me a few days earlier she did not like Secetry. i was walking back to my room to read a little and she cornered me in the hallway to say Secetry had disrespected her and once that happens she will never do a favor for that person again. i prefer to stay out of drama so i did not ask how he had disrespected her, but she quickly offered the answer to my unasked question.
"he took the bed back when he found out you were sleeping on the floor. they came and brought it to the clinic. he disrespected me. i said 'bring a bed' and then they come and take it away!"
the story didn't make sense to me, gossip and drama is full of entangled truths but pumped mostly full of lies, ego, and miscommunication. i didn't expect clarity. i wanted to read.
"i'm sorry" i said.
"so the germani is not going to stay here."
out on the porch i sensed the same conversation was about to take place, and i had primed it by stating the volunteer would be coming shortly. before she could open her mouth i changed the subject, but that didn't work.
"if Secetry wants him to live in a room in my house it won't happen."
"okay." i said "i'm sure you can tell him that tonite."
i was surprised auntie didn't want the extra money generated from somebody actually paying rent. NanaKwame, Sakola, Cheif, and Collins didn't work jobs that paid in cash so i knew she wasn't getting any from them.
i left her on the porch in the sun, and opted for the relief of a cool dark house.
Collins was inside napping on a mat in the living room. His eyes were closed and his shoes had been removed, so i took a quick second to look at the awkwardness of his feet. the shape of his foot didn't seem to be compatible with his shoe. it was too much of an L. i'm sure it took quite an effort to get them on and off, a simple task i really quit thinking about after kindergarten.
a day in the life of Collins. what would that be like?
Sakola emerged from his room shaking his head.
"auntie" he said. we could see her through the windows.
Secetry had just come and they were chatting outside. she quickly stood up and moved inside. Secetry left.
that was a short visit.
the next day at work Secetry looked troubled.
"auntie said no." he told me. "she refuses to let the doctor stay with you because of the bed."
"so what will you do?" i asked.
"i will go to your house later today and beg her."
i was shocked by his persistence. i also admired it.
the talk later that afternoon was more successful. the german man could have a room under a few conditions. glass must be inserted into the empty bedroom window to keep the mosquitoes out, they must buy a new bed and clean everything before he was to come the next morning.
vera, efreeyeh, and two men showed up around 5 pm and scrubbed down the room. they ordered me to inside. i needed to help them. i didn't agree with their cleaning style, wiping down dirty surfaces with dirty rags dipped in dirty water and i had no alternative due to lack of cleaning supplies so i told them i'd just watch.
"you are lazzzzyyyy!" vera said while she swatted me.
"hey! don't call me lazy. i spent all day sunday on my hands and knees washing the floor of the entire house. there are 4 of you doing this tiny room. YOU ARE LAZY!" every interaction with Vera never carries any seriousness. and if i did need to approach her about something important, that matter quickly turns into a joke or a play fight.
"you washed all that floor?" pointing to the living space.
"yes i did. and sakola." we had skipped church to clean. it took quite some time and i became very intimate with the places babybushmeat liked to defecate in.
the men began to install the glass once the room was clean.
"aren't you going to wipe down the walls?"
i annoyed myself asking that question, but they were filthy. dark red hand prints filled the white space like some sort of scattered art project gone awry.
"no" she said.
"did you clean like this when i came?"
"yes."
i was curious how much Vera and Efreeyeh got paid. They constantly worked over hours and doing things outside of their 'job requirements' but the idea of 'job requirements' seemed out of place. life in a village is not clear cut like that. when somebody needs help, you help. the german man needed a clean room so they came.
they left back to their homes shortly after sunset.
i waited for my roommates to congregate around the kitchen table, i was getting hungry. no one came.
the house which had been so full before was now empty. it was just me.
where were they?
i walked out on the porch and screamed in the direction of Collin's mothers house "SAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOO!!!"
i waited for the echo to settle, then i yelled again. "SAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
a baby sound came from that direction "akkkuuuaaa! me ba!". they were coming! i was glad. i didn't like being in the house alone at night. i wasn't scared, the darkness just made solitude feel like loneliness, and i didn't like that feeling.
i heard collins crutches tapping outside. so he hadn't left, he had just made a trip to the latrine.
Auntie and her son were no where to be found. Perhaps they had gone into the village.
within a matter of minutes, my family was back in the house. Sakola had brought food to cook, Collins had returned and NanaKwame was cradling his stereo how i imagine he'll be holding his firstborn.
african hiplife was blasting from the quarter size speakers and he was moving his hips all around. "i'dliketosay MUSIC, hehehhahaha!!!!!". he turned the corner and pranced through the living room, dancing in a few circles and singing words too quick for me to recognize.
i walked outside with my bucket to fetch some water.
the music had been turned up a few dozen notches, i could hear it loud and clear in the backyard. when i walked back in i noticed Sakola had stepped away from the kitchen. instead of preparing food, he was standing at the edge of the dining room table with his arms raised high shaking his butt on rhythm from one side to the other.
NanaKwame was on the other side of the table, hugging himself and gyrating.
Collins was sitting in a chair, throwing his arms all around and screaming from delight.
The dance party had begun! instead of joining i watched them. they were so pure in their enjoyment of the song, each in their own world, that i didn't know how to break through and i didn't want to.
Sakola opened his eyes and caught me staring. then the man who told me he would never dance in town, that it "isn't christian behavior" ran over and pinned me against the wall. he danced to the beat and i wiggled myself out from his forthrightness.
"ahhhh kessywa! dance dance dance i'dliketosay dance!" NanaKwame commanded. he thought my rejection of Sakola's offer was a decline to the party.
"i'll dance i'll dance!" i said.
i just didn't want to "freak" on the wall.
i was thrilled at the spontaneity. i felt very much at home. my family loves to dress up in costume for dinner; boas, sequins, cowboy gear. Our dinners are complete with persona's (each character having their own accent of course) and we then finish the night with a similar sort of dance party, everyone fully expressing themselves however they'd like to- jumping, spinning, flailing arms. whatever. people, my family, can spin on the floor and jump off the couches. if anyone feels inspired, which we often do, we'll take flying leaps into the pool with all our clothes on. it is a favorite past time that has developed in my santa barbara home over the last 10 years. i always laugh till my stomach hurts. when we all are exhausted we go back in the kitchen and eat dessert.
i looked at my boys and cut loose. i started by taking a few warm up laps around the living room. i stared at the ground. it was so smooth, and clean. should i break dance?
i thought a better question would be to ask myself first- did i know how?
No.
second- did i want to break my head open?
No.
instead i focused on how perfectly the lantern had reflected my shadow onto the wall. if i kept a fluid motion going it looked psychedelic. i was sure the boys were entranced, except when i looked over at them they were spinning and throwing their hips out in all directions. they could care less what i was doing.
this was great!
every now and again Collins would throw a fist up and holler, then i'd jump up and down and holler back. the song had changed, this next one was a bit slower with a stronger beat. i ran over and grabbed one of his crutches then waltzed with it across the room. i would have much rather preferred Collins, but he didn't want to budge. i handed him back his tool and went back to my moves.
we kept moving through 3 or 4 songs, then Sakola sprinted to the gas cooker, removed the rice which was about to burn, and called us all to the table.
NanaKwame went to his room and emerged with his newly created version of a headlamp. the boys had been admiring my headlamp, how i could walk around without even having to hold my own light. he had found a huge black rubber band, and tied it to a very large flash light. the flashlight rested above his ear on the right side of his head. it looked incredibly funny because it was so big and it didn't point down, it pointed straight, into all our eyes. i felt more like i was being interrogated by him than sharing his company at mealtime.
"ahh NanaKwame you are shooting me." Sakola said.
"yeah the light is kind of bright" i agreed.
he didn't respond. he kept eating his rice as if no one had said anything. then he'd look up and blind us all.
"ei! NanaKwame. Stop. Your light, its shooting us."
he laughed.
Sakola grumbled.
i hit NanaKwame and then stripped him of his headlamp.
we ate in peace and conversation about the volunteer followed.
"tomorrow he will come." Sakola said.
NanaKwame looked at me. "i won't stay here no more. me and collins we are moving!"
"what?"
"i'dliketosay we are moving!"
"no you aren't!" my heart sank. i was hoping he was lying.
"it's true! to collin's mothers house. Auntie told us we can't stay here."
i looked at Sakola.
"it's true." he said.
"but why?" i was sad.
"because, auntie, she say NanaKwame and Collins, no stay here any more because..." he was struggling with english.
"say it in twi" i said.
he quickly explained that auntie had yelled at him for things he didn't understand. and she didn't want NanaKwame and Collins to stay there once the german man had arrived. they needed rooms of their own, and since one of the rooms was being taken that wouldn't be possible. they had to leave.
auntie was really beginning to bother me. mostly because she was upsetting my happiness. why couldn't she have sent Cheif away? i would never notice that. but NanaKwame and Collins? they were my lifeblood, making my house a home.
"oh Kessywa, don't worry!" NanaKwame said.
"but when will i see you if you aren't living here?" i pleaded.
"i will come. every day i will come. but i will sleep there, at mothers house. do you understand?"
"yes i understand. but still."
i realized why Sakola had been shaking his head at auntie all day. she had kicked out his brothers.
"okay. so you are moving tonite?"
"yes, tonite, the oburoni is coming tomorrow. will you be happy?"
"i don't know." i said. "i will only be happy if the oburoni likes to dance."
"ohhhhh kessywa!"
but i was serious. i was prepared for the worst. the worst being a stiff arrogant white doctor who came to teach "the africans" a thing or two.
but... i was hoping for the best, possibly a retired professional break dancer who happened to know a lot about medicine and was willing to share knowledge?
Secetry kept calling the German man whose visit we had all been awaiting, "my friend". in fact everyone at the clinic was calling him "my friend". this was strictly based off the fact that he was white too.
"but what if i don't want him to be my friend?" i teased.
"he is white and you are white" Vera joked as she passed me in the clinic hallway "so you have no choice."
"what if he's a killer, then can i have a choice?"
"NO!" Secetry and Vera agreed.
"okay then, what if i want my killer friend to be your husband, how about that? and i won't give you any say!"
we all laughed.
it was probably a good thing the volunteer had delayed in coming. he was supposed to have arrived at the beginning of January, and it was the end. but Auntie had become like an obstinate little child during that time and decided the volunteer was not allowed to live in our house. he would have to find some other accommodation.
"but there isn't any other accommodation?" i told Secetry. it was his job to oversee foreign visitors and work out the details.
"yes, i know this. i will beg auntie to let your friend stay with you, but in the meantime let us go walk through the village and look for a place."
we walked slowly, greeting people, and scoping homes built of mud and sticks. "i think the volunteer would prefer a room in my house."
"haha, i agree. i am meeting with auntie tonite, let us pray she gives us the room, then your friend will have a nice place to stay just as you have had a nice place to stay."
we parted and i walked back home. auntie was on the porch, chewing on something and mumbling under her breath. i sat down next to her.
"the oburoni is coming soon" i said.
she grunted.
she had told me a few days earlier she did not like Secetry. i was walking back to my room to read a little and she cornered me in the hallway to say Secetry had disrespected her and once that happens she will never do a favor for that person again. i prefer to stay out of drama so i did not ask how he had disrespected her, but she quickly offered the answer to my unasked question.
"he took the bed back when he found out you were sleeping on the floor. they came and brought it to the clinic. he disrespected me. i said 'bring a bed' and then they come and take it away!"
the story didn't make sense to me, gossip and drama is full of entangled truths but pumped mostly full of lies, ego, and miscommunication. i didn't expect clarity. i wanted to read.
"i'm sorry" i said.
"so the germani is not going to stay here."
out on the porch i sensed the same conversation was about to take place, and i had primed it by stating the volunteer would be coming shortly. before she could open her mouth i changed the subject, but that didn't work.
"if Secetry wants him to live in a room in my house it won't happen."
"okay." i said "i'm sure you can tell him that tonite."
i was surprised auntie didn't want the extra money generated from somebody actually paying rent. NanaKwame, Sakola, Cheif, and Collins didn't work jobs that paid in cash so i knew she wasn't getting any from them.
i left her on the porch in the sun, and opted for the relief of a cool dark house.
Collins was inside napping on a mat in the living room. His eyes were closed and his shoes had been removed, so i took a quick second to look at the awkwardness of his feet. the shape of his foot didn't seem to be compatible with his shoe. it was too much of an L. i'm sure it took quite an effort to get them on and off, a simple task i really quit thinking about after kindergarten.
a day in the life of Collins. what would that be like?
Sakola emerged from his room shaking his head.
"auntie" he said. we could see her through the windows.
Secetry had just come and they were chatting outside. she quickly stood up and moved inside. Secetry left.
that was a short visit.
the next day at work Secetry looked troubled.
"auntie said no." he told me. "she refuses to let the doctor stay with you because of the bed."
"so what will you do?" i asked.
"i will go to your house later today and beg her."
i was shocked by his persistence. i also admired it.
the talk later that afternoon was more successful. the german man could have a room under a few conditions. glass must be inserted into the empty bedroom window to keep the mosquitoes out, they must buy a new bed and clean everything before he was to come the next morning.
vera, efreeyeh, and two men showed up around 5 pm and scrubbed down the room. they ordered me to inside. i needed to help them. i didn't agree with their cleaning style, wiping down dirty surfaces with dirty rags dipped in dirty water and i had no alternative due to lack of cleaning supplies so i told them i'd just watch.
"you are lazzzzyyyy!" vera said while she swatted me.
"hey! don't call me lazy. i spent all day sunday on my hands and knees washing the floor of the entire house. there are 4 of you doing this tiny room. YOU ARE LAZY!" every interaction with Vera never carries any seriousness. and if i did need to approach her about something important, that matter quickly turns into a joke or a play fight.
"you washed all that floor?" pointing to the living space.
"yes i did. and sakola." we had skipped church to clean. it took quite some time and i became very intimate with the places babybushmeat liked to defecate in.
the men began to install the glass once the room was clean.
"aren't you going to wipe down the walls?"
i annoyed myself asking that question, but they were filthy. dark red hand prints filled the white space like some sort of scattered art project gone awry.
"no" she said.
"did you clean like this when i came?"
"yes."
i was curious how much Vera and Efreeyeh got paid. They constantly worked over hours and doing things outside of their 'job requirements' but the idea of 'job requirements' seemed out of place. life in a village is not clear cut like that. when somebody needs help, you help. the german man needed a clean room so they came.
they left back to their homes shortly after sunset.
i waited for my roommates to congregate around the kitchen table, i was getting hungry. no one came.
the house which had been so full before was now empty. it was just me.
where were they?
i walked out on the porch and screamed in the direction of Collin's mothers house "SAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOO!!!"
i waited for the echo to settle, then i yelled again. "SAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
a baby sound came from that direction "akkkuuuaaa! me ba!". they were coming! i was glad. i didn't like being in the house alone at night. i wasn't scared, the darkness just made solitude feel like loneliness, and i didn't like that feeling.
i heard collins crutches tapping outside. so he hadn't left, he had just made a trip to the latrine.
Auntie and her son were no where to be found. Perhaps they had gone into the village.
within a matter of minutes, my family was back in the house. Sakola had brought food to cook, Collins had returned and NanaKwame was cradling his stereo how i imagine he'll be holding his firstborn.
african hiplife was blasting from the quarter size speakers and he was moving his hips all around. "i'dliketosay MUSIC, hehehhahaha!!!!!". he turned the corner and pranced through the living room, dancing in a few circles and singing words too quick for me to recognize.
i walked outside with my bucket to fetch some water.
the music had been turned up a few dozen notches, i could hear it loud and clear in the backyard. when i walked back in i noticed Sakola had stepped away from the kitchen. instead of preparing food, he was standing at the edge of the dining room table with his arms raised high shaking his butt on rhythm from one side to the other.
NanaKwame was on the other side of the table, hugging himself and gyrating.
Collins was sitting in a chair, throwing his arms all around and screaming from delight.
The dance party had begun! instead of joining i watched them. they were so pure in their enjoyment of the song, each in their own world, that i didn't know how to break through and i didn't want to.
Sakola opened his eyes and caught me staring. then the man who told me he would never dance in town, that it "isn't christian behavior" ran over and pinned me against the wall. he danced to the beat and i wiggled myself out from his forthrightness.
"ahhhh kessywa! dance dance dance i'dliketosay dance!" NanaKwame commanded. he thought my rejection of Sakola's offer was a decline to the party.
"i'll dance i'll dance!" i said.
i just didn't want to "freak" on the wall.
i was thrilled at the spontaneity. i felt very much at home. my family loves to dress up in costume for dinner; boas, sequins, cowboy gear. Our dinners are complete with persona's (each character having their own accent of course) and we then finish the night with a similar sort of dance party, everyone fully expressing themselves however they'd like to- jumping, spinning, flailing arms. whatever. people, my family, can spin on the floor and jump off the couches. if anyone feels inspired, which we often do, we'll take flying leaps into the pool with all our clothes on. it is a favorite past time that has developed in my santa barbara home over the last 10 years. i always laugh till my stomach hurts. when we all are exhausted we go back in the kitchen and eat dessert.
i looked at my boys and cut loose. i started by taking a few warm up laps around the living room. i stared at the ground. it was so smooth, and clean. should i break dance?
i thought a better question would be to ask myself first- did i know how?
No.
second- did i want to break my head open?
No.
instead i focused on how perfectly the lantern had reflected my shadow onto the wall. if i kept a fluid motion going it looked psychedelic. i was sure the boys were entranced, except when i looked over at them they were spinning and throwing their hips out in all directions. they could care less what i was doing.
this was great!
every now and again Collins would throw a fist up and holler, then i'd jump up and down and holler back. the song had changed, this next one was a bit slower with a stronger beat. i ran over and grabbed one of his crutches then waltzed with it across the room. i would have much rather preferred Collins, but he didn't want to budge. i handed him back his tool and went back to my moves.
we kept moving through 3 or 4 songs, then Sakola sprinted to the gas cooker, removed the rice which was about to burn, and called us all to the table.
NanaKwame went to his room and emerged with his newly created version of a headlamp. the boys had been admiring my headlamp, how i could walk around without even having to hold my own light. he had found a huge black rubber band, and tied it to a very large flash light. the flashlight rested above his ear on the right side of his head. it looked incredibly funny because it was so big and it didn't point down, it pointed straight, into all our eyes. i felt more like i was being interrogated by him than sharing his company at mealtime.
"ahh NanaKwame you are shooting me." Sakola said.
"yeah the light is kind of bright" i agreed.
he didn't respond. he kept eating his rice as if no one had said anything. then he'd look up and blind us all.
"ei! NanaKwame. Stop. Your light, its shooting us."
he laughed.
Sakola grumbled.
i hit NanaKwame and then stripped him of his headlamp.
we ate in peace and conversation about the volunteer followed.
"tomorrow he will come." Sakola said.
NanaKwame looked at me. "i won't stay here no more. me and collins we are moving!"
"what?"
"i'dliketosay we are moving!"
"no you aren't!" my heart sank. i was hoping he was lying.
"it's true! to collin's mothers house. Auntie told us we can't stay here."
i looked at Sakola.
"it's true." he said.
"but why?" i was sad.
"because, auntie, she say NanaKwame and Collins, no stay here any more because..." he was struggling with english.
"say it in twi" i said.
he quickly explained that auntie had yelled at him for things he didn't understand. and she didn't want NanaKwame and Collins to stay there once the german man had arrived. they needed rooms of their own, and since one of the rooms was being taken that wouldn't be possible. they had to leave.
auntie was really beginning to bother me. mostly because she was upsetting my happiness. why couldn't she have sent Cheif away? i would never notice that. but NanaKwame and Collins? they were my lifeblood, making my house a home.
"oh Kessywa, don't worry!" NanaKwame said.
"but when will i see you if you aren't living here?" i pleaded.
"i will come. every day i will come. but i will sleep there, at mothers house. do you understand?"
"yes i understand. but still."
i realized why Sakola had been shaking his head at auntie all day. she had kicked out his brothers.
"okay. so you are moving tonite?"
"yes, tonite, the oburoni is coming tomorrow. will you be happy?"
"i don't know." i said. "i will only be happy if the oburoni likes to dance."
"ohhhhh kessywa!"
but i was serious. i was prepared for the worst. the worst being a stiff arrogant white doctor who came to teach "the africans" a thing or two.
but... i was hoping for the best, possibly a retired professional break dancer who happened to know a lot about medicine and was willing to share knowledge?
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Konongo Hospital
my good friend Yaa, who also happens to be Sakola's sister, was showing the first signs of an impending labor. i had been visiting her daily since her due date of January 20th. each day passed and each day she grew bigger and bigger. i'd run up to her where ever she happened to be at and pat her belly saying "when?!?! when!?!?" while she leaned back and laughed.
Yaa has a wonderful sense of humor and oozes love. i don't think she speaks one word of English, but even through the language barrier, she generally seems concerned about my welfare and we enjoy each other's company greatly.
her house is the last one i pass on my walk to the clinic, so the daily visit was easy. the morning her labor began, she was outside waiting for me.
"akua kessywa!"
"madamfo opemfwo! (my friend the pregnant woman)"
she motioned for me to come, looking a bit worried.
she removed her house slippers and walked into her small one room living quarters. she held the screen door open for me so i followed her in.
"hwe (look)" she said. she pulled her dress up and showed me a pad full of blood.
i wasn't sure what to say but she was looking at me for an answer so i made one up. the safest one.
i told her to come to the clinic.
she wanted to know if she was okay, and i told her yes, although i really didn't know.
"me ba (i'm coming)" she said.
i walked back outside and greeted the two women sitting on a bench, and shook their babies arms all around. then i picked up a small infant that was lying on her back. she was a fat juicy thing and i had some time to spare. i bounced her around on my lap and felt her cotton soft hair. then she showed me her appreciation by leaving a nice warm puddle on my skirt. i didn't feel it until it had soaked through to my legs. i quickly put the little girl back where i found her and the 2 women and i began a group effort of washing my skirt while it was still on. they kept apologizing but i found it all very funny and wasn't too worried.
Sakola's sister was ready to go, so i wrung myself out and walked with her slowly the last stretch of the way to the ward.
Ma was in, behind her desk, and told my friend to sit.
we reviewed her patient card and Ma allowed her to check in to the first stage room. time passed slowly, and i tried hard to crack some jokes to move it along, but intentional humor in a not yet second language is quite a challenge. instead i napped. i was tired, auntie had woke the household up at 4:30 a.m. singing raspy gospel songs to herself for hours. i didn't go back to bed after that, so the sleep was well deserved.
it was friday and Ma had plans to travel. she was going to her youngest brothers wedding.
"i've never been to a Ghanaian wedding!" i told her. i wasn't saying it for an invitation, which was good because i didn't get one.
when i woke up it was close to 2 o'clock and another woman had just come in complaining of waist pains.
this was great, i thought. potentially two births in one day. i was a junkie and i was certain to get my fix.
"Errrghh, why?!" Ma was directing her distress at me. "I have to travel today at 3. I won't be staying here and these women come in? Go and bring me the fetascope."
our relationship has developed to the point where she feels comfortable ordering me around. i dreamed of this day.
i ran and got the fetalscope.
she checked the woman and told her to go back into town and come again later, the baby wouldn't be coming any time soon.
the woman said she was from a small village, Mangwase, miles away. i was glad to hear this because i had just visited her place that Tuesday with the health volunteers. i gave my talk about what to bring to the clinic and when to come. my advice was to come early to reduce the risk of delivering on the road, and to pack a small suitcase of essentials. now Ma was telling her she came too early, to take her bag and go walk around. she looked annoyed, but picked it up and walked out. i wondered if Ma had just said that so she could leave in an hour for her wedding.
"what are you writing?"
Ma was scribbling something on a white piece of paper.
"i am referring your friend to Konongo Hospital. She has a history of fibroid, she can't deliver here."
"why?" i assaulted Ma with my favorite question.
"she could bleed too much and die. she has to be seen at the hospital, that's why. i've sent for a taxi, she will leave now."
i went back and asked my friend if she wanted me to come to the hospital with her. she nodded through pain and fear.
"okay, i'll come."
the car pulled up and Efreeyeh and i loaded into the front seat, my friend, and the two ladies i had met earlier in the morning got in the back. our little beat up car left the village beeping every few seconds to warn livestock and people that we were in a hurry.
when we got onto the main highway i cursed the road for it's condition. each bump, every dip, sent my friend into a silent spiral of extreme discomfort. i looked over at our driver and admired his focus. he was off road driving in a 20 year old hodge podge sedan and little beads of sweat had accumulated all over his face. efreeyeh was looking out the window. i was trying to keep my knees away from the stick shift and not squash Efreeyeh too much. every now and then i'd lean back and rub my friends leg. i didn't want her to worry, but how could she not? we were rushing her to the hospital.
she started to cry, uncontrollable baby sobs escaped before both her sisters lovingly but firmly swatted her and told her to stop. they wiped her face and she then buried it in a cloth. i said a little prayer.
the drive took forever. uncertainty and fear can drag a moment into eternity.
we skidded down the dirt driveway and pulled up at the run down entrance way. we helped our friend into where the midwives were congregated.
"oh you again." one of them said looking at Efreeyeh. "did you bring a letter this time?"
Efreeyeh handed it over politely.
"what time did she go into labor?"
"at 12:00 today." Efreeyeh said.
there had to be a good reason to lie.
"come with us Sister." they told our friend.
i didn't want to leave her in her distress so i used my being a foreigner and pretended not to understand when Efreeyeh yelled at me and told me not to enter the maternity ward.
"trust me! i'll be right back."
"Akua, don't! you aren't allowed back there."
i gave her a quick wink and walked back. i entered the room where 2 midwives and a nurses assistant stared at me with disbelief.
"hello!" i said.
"what are you doing?" the short one said abruptly. she spoke English really well and it instantly intimidated me.
"i'm here to stay with my friend."
"why don't you go and sit outside?" the taller darker one phrased it as a question but meant it more as an order.
i suddenly became very foreign and very dumb. "outside? why? can't i just stay here? it's really nice inside here. these mint green walls are pretty." i looked around overly curious.
"you want to stay in here?"
"sure! why not?"
they powwowed their eyes and came to the conclusion i was odd but harmless.
"fine, fine." they all agreed to it rather than try to convince me to leave. then they leaned up against the beds, to relax and get to know me a bit. "where are you from?" the little one in the white dress said.
"america."
"can you help me to get there?"
"i don't think so."
"why not?"
"because it is a difficult process."
"but as for you, it was simple to come to ghana."
"yes, it was, in some ways."
"so how can that be?"
"i don't know, you should ask my president."
then they all laughed brash laughs.
she spoke in an accusatory manner, which made me want to flee her company, but instead i decided i'd ask questions instead of answer them.
"are you both midwives?"
"yes, of course." they stated.
"why are you the only one in a white dress then?" i said.
"because it's Friday, so i get to wear this, do you like it?"
it was a shirt about two sizes too small for her medium frame. it grabbed her sides and pinched her stomach. it looked bad.
"i love it!" i said.
the graphic redeemed the shirts hideous shade of yellow. there was a huge needle placed across her chest and in block letters it said "BEHIND EVERY GOOD DOCTOR IS A GREAT NURSE!".
Friday is "National dress day" where government workers are allowed to trade in uniforms to build national pride. They are allowed to wear Ghanaian dress.
"but aren't you supposed to wear something Ghanaian on Fridays? That shirt is western."
I got no verbal reply, but i did receive a sneer.
the third woman had on the same uniform Vera wears, an alarmingly bright pink dress. Vera wears fake hawaiian flowers in her hair. this woman did not. she was next to my friend setting up a drip.
the ladies shuffled out of the room and let me sit on the bed next to my sister.
"how are you?" i asked. she gave me a faint smile in return and moved her body to get comfortable.
the short midwife came back in and started yelling. my friend was in the middle of contractions and begged her to just wait.
the midwife said "your sister. i'm going to discharge her and send her to Agogo hospital. she is refusing me!"
"why what did she do?" the look on Yaa's face was a scared one. i felt sorry for her.
"she keeps moving. she has to stay still if the drip is to work."
my friend groaned "i beg you please". she just wanted to lay on her side.
"i said LIE ON YOUR BACK or you'll have to leave! last time!" then she turned and left the room.
Agogo hospital was far away. the thought of a referral was cruel enough.
Yaa yelled out for her to come back. despite the foul treatment she wanted the woman by her side to ease her worries.
the lady came back in with an incredulous laugh bubbling out of her, then she directed her speech at me, as it was in English and Yaa only speaks Twi. "your friend wants me to stay next to her, like she is a baby. this is a hospital. i see up to 50 woman a day give birth. does she think i will just stand here? NO! who does she think i am? there is a woman in the other room who needs help. come let's go, leave your friend."
i told Yaa i'd be right back. i wanted to see what was happening in the other room, but before i reached there i heard high pitched yelping that didn't sound very good. i peered around the corner and saw a thin woman with her legs open bleeding profusely.
the midwife in the yellow shirt yelled over her shoulder to me that this was "an incomplete abortion and extractions were to follow."
i didn't enter that room. instead i stayed next to Yaa and tried to drown out the horrible noises we were about to hear. the louder the screams came the more veins popped out of Yaa's forehead. the panic was spreading and so was Yaa's drip with Pitocin. her contractions were coming more steady and more strong. she was gripping the bars of the bed and quietly dealing with it all.
i needed a little fresh air so i walked outside. her sisters were sitting on a bench and stood up when they saw me.
"not yet" i said. and they sat down.
Efreeyeh had taken a cab back to the village, she was needed at the clinic.
i walked around the hospital and observed. mostly i was interested in the posters hanging from the walls. some talked of buruli ulcer, others of the benefits of breastfeeding, one showed pictures of before and after cleft palate surgeries, then one i hadn't ever seen before. i stepped up to it closely. it read:
AVIAN BIRD FLU
then it went on to list what to do with a dead bird.
1. Alert! If you find a dead bird, DO NOT TOUCH IT!!!
i thought of Sakola and our resident bird which had since grown thin, close to baring it's bones. then i reflected on the many dead birds i had been finding around our house recently, small ones that could fit in the palm of my hand.
"Sakola why so many?" i had asked.
he motioned that they fly into the house at night, then drop dead from the impact. i had a hard time believing that.
there were two yellow-breasted birds lying dead at the foot of the well. they were so close to each other they looked like they were spooning. birds don't fall dead in that position.
2. If you should touch a dead bird, WEAR PROTECTIVE GEAR!
"Sakola this is gross." i had said. i knew he was killing them with his slingshot. "could you move these?"
he picked them up and threw them into the brush.
the further i read the poster the more ridiculous it seemed. i could barely imagine Sakola running to the health clinic to buy gloves to move our dead birds.
i heard a loud scream from a baby down the hallway. SHIT, i thought, i missed the birth! i ran down into the room Yaa had been in. there was a tiny boy being circumcised and Yaa was not there. the screams were coming from him and i quickly left the room.
i walked by the room the woman who had suffered the abortion had been in. she wasn't there, but Yaa was, sitting upright with her knees pulled in close to her chest. she was giving birth. i ran in next to her side.
"PPPPPPPPUSSSSSSSH! PUSSSSSSSSSSHHH!" the midwives were instructing. nothing about Yaa's body made it seem like it was the right time to push. she looked exhausted.
"PPPPPPPPPPUSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH" they screamed.
the energy wasn't fluid. Yaa's body was being told one thing by the staff, but it was apparent she was feeling something entirely different. the midwives would have none of it, the little one slapped her hard across her face, harder than i would have liked to witness.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUSSHHHHH!" they started to speak quickly in Twi, but i caught a lot of it. they told her her baby would die if she didn't start pushing and she needed to try harder. i wiped the sweat from her face and propped her knees up closer to her shoulders. she bore down so hard and long it made me tired. then she came back for a breath but the midwives didn't believe in breathing it seemed because they both slapped her across her face numerous times, each weighty and hard, and screamed at her even louder.
i wanted to run.
i wanted to get as far away from this scene as i could.
i hated it.
i tried to tell myself it was just a cultural difference but by the look on Yaa's face this was not something she was accustomed too. i couldn't leave but i didn't want to watch.
i held my friends hand and looked into her eyes. i silently tried my hardest to give her what little strength i had.
the white dressed midwife pulled up a stool, next to the side of Yaa. She stood on top and looked down at us.
"in ghana here" she was sweating "we call this FUNDAL PRESSURE." she clasped her hands together and pressed down at the top of Yaa's stomach. Yaa gritted her teeth and turned her head away. She winced and then yelled. The midwife began pumping her hands up and down and screaming at Yaa to push. "FUNDAL PRESSURE" she said again, looking at me.
I must have had my mouth hanging open out of complete disbelief because the lady asked me "why, you don't do this in America?"
i didn't say anything.
she kept pumping Yaa's stomach until she was too tired and had to stop to catch HER breath. "i'm tired!" she said. then she resumed.
the baby's head poked in and out, the way a difficult tube of toothpaste reluctantly lets the last bit free. they had been successful in objectifying Yaa into the state of a tube of toothpaste too.
her baby came following the trauma with a half convincing cry and skin as white as snow.
"OOOHHHHH!" everybody laughed "it is a white baby! baby white boy!"
someone mentioned i had turned a black baby white just by being in the delivery room. "good job, you made him white!"
it added a little humor to the situation, but i couldn't think too hard about being congratulated on an inherently racist joke. now was not the time to try and ask WHY she thought white was more beautiful. the baby was alive and healthy, and that i was thankful for.
the short aggressive midwife dangled the baby from his feet and whacked his butt and thighs with all her might over and over. this was not how Ma whacked. it was not a loving act. i gasped.
"you probably don't beat your babies in america either, do you? DO YOU?"
i looked at Yaa and she had covered her eyes.
they plopped him down on a table while they attended to the delivery of the placenta. he sat there, body stiff as a corn of cob with attached wirey wriggly limbs.
were they going to wash him? bundle him? make him warm? time passed.
i wasn't going to wait any longer.
"can i please wash the baby?"
they were crowded around Yaa, tending to 3rd stage needs. "do you know how to wash a baby?" they asked.
"yes! i do."
"you can go ahead then"
i picked him up and brought him over to the wash basin. i poured the water over his head and scrubbed his slimy body. i overcompensated their roughness with gentleness. i pondered if he was albino and wanted to ask. i wasn't interested in any further conversation with the hospital staff so i took a closer look at the baby and saw his eyebrows and eyelashes carried pigment. kofi oburoni. friday born white boy. he isn't albino, just very white.
i dried him, weighed him, bundled him, and went into the room i had spent time in before. the circumcised baby was gone but the woman who had the abortion was resting a few feet away. i felt conflicted, holding a beautiful alive creation, next to someone who had just lost theirs. she looked over at us and grinned. i said "kofi oburoni" and she let out a faint faraway sigh that seemed to come from a place of appreciation.
the midwife came in and asked "why are you sitting here? bring the child to the other room. your friend will meet you there."
i held him close as i strolled through the hospitals corridors. i joked to one person that the baby i was holding was mine. i had just given birth! didn't i look great? when she believed me i decided to stop with that joke, i deserved no fake credit, this child took a lot of work.
i walked into a room filled with beds lined up in a row, like the 7 dwarfs, except each had their own mosquito net. i walked down to a bed that felt right and sat down. Yaa came in, wrapped in a beautiful orange and purple cloth, hair in disarray. she came and plopped herself down with a defeated look on her face.
"you worked hard" i said, handing over her child. the sisters swept in carrying food and thanksgiving. they inspected the child and adored his mother with praise.
i left them to be and went outside. the road just outside the hospital was busy and loud. i was thirsty and could feel the processing of what just happened beginning to make it's way through my mind.
i looked up and saw a billboard that had comforted me in many uncomfortable times. it was a huge picture of Senam. he was smiling, wearing a colorful african robe, with his arms stretched out, modeling for a local telephone company. Areeba, the phone company, had come to the college campus in Accra looking for a good-looking man to represent their product. they had chosen Senam, and his picture was plastered all over Ghana. i sat and stared at it for awhile. the image brought me some peace, he always appeared at just the right time. a woman walked by with a cooler of bagged water balancing on her head.
i bought one and hung out with the picture of my friend for a while. then i went back into the hospital.
Yaa was going to sleep there that night, so i bid her farewell and jumped into a tro tro with her sister. the other one stayed behind to wash the cloths used during the birth. she would be coming shortly.
we didn't speak once on the way back to the village. it was the type of silence that comes from having experienced something so intense words are no longer needed. she heard the midwives yelling at Yaa, she knew what had gone on. my shirt was stained, matching the pee stain on my skirt from earlier in the day, my face was greasy and i was ready for bed. it had been a long day. this woman, Yaa's sister, had the face of a full moon, and friendly cheeks. i found comfort in that. she leaned her head against the window and stared blankly into the distance. when we reached my house i alighted, gave a little wave, and walked inside.
sakola was sitting at the table, waiting for me with a bowl of tomato fish soup. he wanted to know where i had been.
"i went to Konongo, to the hospital."
"why?"
"your sister" i said "she had her baby."
"you lie." he gave me a little smile.
"it's true. a little boy. kofi."
"ei! serious? ohhhhhhhhh" he shook around a bit "thank you Jesus."
"and" i noted "he is verrrry white."
"like you?"
"even more."
"you lie!"
"tomorrow, we'll go and see."
i was glad i could have been some help to Yaa, but i wondered truly how much help had i offered?
i was present which is sometimes all the help somebody needs, and i did all i could, so instead of worrying i decided to eat soup.
Yaa has a wonderful sense of humor and oozes love. i don't think she speaks one word of English, but even through the language barrier, she generally seems concerned about my welfare and we enjoy each other's company greatly.
her house is the last one i pass on my walk to the clinic, so the daily visit was easy. the morning her labor began, she was outside waiting for me.
"akua kessywa!"
"madamfo opemfwo! (my friend the pregnant woman)"
she motioned for me to come, looking a bit worried.
she removed her house slippers and walked into her small one room living quarters. she held the screen door open for me so i followed her in.
"hwe (look)" she said. she pulled her dress up and showed me a pad full of blood.
i wasn't sure what to say but she was looking at me for an answer so i made one up. the safest one.
i told her to come to the clinic.
she wanted to know if she was okay, and i told her yes, although i really didn't know.
"me ba (i'm coming)" she said.
i walked back outside and greeted the two women sitting on a bench, and shook their babies arms all around. then i picked up a small infant that was lying on her back. she was a fat juicy thing and i had some time to spare. i bounced her around on my lap and felt her cotton soft hair. then she showed me her appreciation by leaving a nice warm puddle on my skirt. i didn't feel it until it had soaked through to my legs. i quickly put the little girl back where i found her and the 2 women and i began a group effort of washing my skirt while it was still on. they kept apologizing but i found it all very funny and wasn't too worried.
Sakola's sister was ready to go, so i wrung myself out and walked with her slowly the last stretch of the way to the ward.
Ma was in, behind her desk, and told my friend to sit.
we reviewed her patient card and Ma allowed her to check in to the first stage room. time passed slowly, and i tried hard to crack some jokes to move it along, but intentional humor in a not yet second language is quite a challenge. instead i napped. i was tired, auntie had woke the household up at 4:30 a.m. singing raspy gospel songs to herself for hours. i didn't go back to bed after that, so the sleep was well deserved.
it was friday and Ma had plans to travel. she was going to her youngest brothers wedding.
"i've never been to a Ghanaian wedding!" i told her. i wasn't saying it for an invitation, which was good because i didn't get one.
when i woke up it was close to 2 o'clock and another woman had just come in complaining of waist pains.
this was great, i thought. potentially two births in one day. i was a junkie and i was certain to get my fix.
"Errrghh, why?!" Ma was directing her distress at me. "I have to travel today at 3. I won't be staying here and these women come in? Go and bring me the fetascope."
our relationship has developed to the point where she feels comfortable ordering me around. i dreamed of this day.
i ran and got the fetalscope.
she checked the woman and told her to go back into town and come again later, the baby wouldn't be coming any time soon.
the woman said she was from a small village, Mangwase, miles away. i was glad to hear this because i had just visited her place that Tuesday with the health volunteers. i gave my talk about what to bring to the clinic and when to come. my advice was to come early to reduce the risk of delivering on the road, and to pack a small suitcase of essentials. now Ma was telling her she came too early, to take her bag and go walk around. she looked annoyed, but picked it up and walked out. i wondered if Ma had just said that so she could leave in an hour for her wedding.
"what are you writing?"
Ma was scribbling something on a white piece of paper.
"i am referring your friend to Konongo Hospital. She has a history of fibroid, she can't deliver here."
"why?" i assaulted Ma with my favorite question.
"she could bleed too much and die. she has to be seen at the hospital, that's why. i've sent for a taxi, she will leave now."
i went back and asked my friend if she wanted me to come to the hospital with her. she nodded through pain and fear.
"okay, i'll come."
the car pulled up and Efreeyeh and i loaded into the front seat, my friend, and the two ladies i had met earlier in the morning got in the back. our little beat up car left the village beeping every few seconds to warn livestock and people that we were in a hurry.
when we got onto the main highway i cursed the road for it's condition. each bump, every dip, sent my friend into a silent spiral of extreme discomfort. i looked over at our driver and admired his focus. he was off road driving in a 20 year old hodge podge sedan and little beads of sweat had accumulated all over his face. efreeyeh was looking out the window. i was trying to keep my knees away from the stick shift and not squash Efreeyeh too much. every now and then i'd lean back and rub my friends leg. i didn't want her to worry, but how could she not? we were rushing her to the hospital.
she started to cry, uncontrollable baby sobs escaped before both her sisters lovingly but firmly swatted her and told her to stop. they wiped her face and she then buried it in a cloth. i said a little prayer.
the drive took forever. uncertainty and fear can drag a moment into eternity.
we skidded down the dirt driveway and pulled up at the run down entrance way. we helped our friend into where the midwives were congregated.
"oh you again." one of them said looking at Efreeyeh. "did you bring a letter this time?"
Efreeyeh handed it over politely.
"what time did she go into labor?"
"at 12:00 today." Efreeyeh said.
there had to be a good reason to lie.
"come with us Sister." they told our friend.
i didn't want to leave her in her distress so i used my being a foreigner and pretended not to understand when Efreeyeh yelled at me and told me not to enter the maternity ward.
"trust me! i'll be right back."
"Akua, don't! you aren't allowed back there."
i gave her a quick wink and walked back. i entered the room where 2 midwives and a nurses assistant stared at me with disbelief.
"hello!" i said.
"what are you doing?" the short one said abruptly. she spoke English really well and it instantly intimidated me.
"i'm here to stay with my friend."
"why don't you go and sit outside?" the taller darker one phrased it as a question but meant it more as an order.
i suddenly became very foreign and very dumb. "outside? why? can't i just stay here? it's really nice inside here. these mint green walls are pretty." i looked around overly curious.
"you want to stay in here?"
"sure! why not?"
they powwowed their eyes and came to the conclusion i was odd but harmless.
"fine, fine." they all agreed to it rather than try to convince me to leave. then they leaned up against the beds, to relax and get to know me a bit. "where are you from?" the little one in the white dress said.
"america."
"can you help me to get there?"
"i don't think so."
"why not?"
"because it is a difficult process."
"but as for you, it was simple to come to ghana."
"yes, it was, in some ways."
"so how can that be?"
"i don't know, you should ask my president."
then they all laughed brash laughs.
she spoke in an accusatory manner, which made me want to flee her company, but instead i decided i'd ask questions instead of answer them.
"are you both midwives?"
"yes, of course." they stated.
"why are you the only one in a white dress then?" i said.
"because it's Friday, so i get to wear this, do you like it?"
it was a shirt about two sizes too small for her medium frame. it grabbed her sides and pinched her stomach. it looked bad.
"i love it!" i said.
the graphic redeemed the shirts hideous shade of yellow. there was a huge needle placed across her chest and in block letters it said "BEHIND EVERY GOOD DOCTOR IS A GREAT NURSE!".
Friday is "National dress day" where government workers are allowed to trade in uniforms to build national pride. They are allowed to wear Ghanaian dress.
"but aren't you supposed to wear something Ghanaian on Fridays? That shirt is western."
I got no verbal reply, but i did receive a sneer.
the third woman had on the same uniform Vera wears, an alarmingly bright pink dress. Vera wears fake hawaiian flowers in her hair. this woman did not. she was next to my friend setting up a drip.
the ladies shuffled out of the room and let me sit on the bed next to my sister.
"how are you?" i asked. she gave me a faint smile in return and moved her body to get comfortable.
the short midwife came back in and started yelling. my friend was in the middle of contractions and begged her to just wait.
the midwife said "your sister. i'm going to discharge her and send her to Agogo hospital. she is refusing me!"
"why what did she do?" the look on Yaa's face was a scared one. i felt sorry for her.
"she keeps moving. she has to stay still if the drip is to work."
my friend groaned "i beg you please". she just wanted to lay on her side.
"i said LIE ON YOUR BACK or you'll have to leave! last time!" then she turned and left the room.
Agogo hospital was far away. the thought of a referral was cruel enough.
Yaa yelled out for her to come back. despite the foul treatment she wanted the woman by her side to ease her worries.
the lady came back in with an incredulous laugh bubbling out of her, then she directed her speech at me, as it was in English and Yaa only speaks Twi. "your friend wants me to stay next to her, like she is a baby. this is a hospital. i see up to 50 woman a day give birth. does she think i will just stand here? NO! who does she think i am? there is a woman in the other room who needs help. come let's go, leave your friend."
i told Yaa i'd be right back. i wanted to see what was happening in the other room, but before i reached there i heard high pitched yelping that didn't sound very good. i peered around the corner and saw a thin woman with her legs open bleeding profusely.
the midwife in the yellow shirt yelled over her shoulder to me that this was "an incomplete abortion and extractions were to follow."
i didn't enter that room. instead i stayed next to Yaa and tried to drown out the horrible noises we were about to hear. the louder the screams came the more veins popped out of Yaa's forehead. the panic was spreading and so was Yaa's drip with Pitocin. her contractions were coming more steady and more strong. she was gripping the bars of the bed and quietly dealing with it all.
i needed a little fresh air so i walked outside. her sisters were sitting on a bench and stood up when they saw me.
"not yet" i said. and they sat down.
Efreeyeh had taken a cab back to the village, she was needed at the clinic.
i walked around the hospital and observed. mostly i was interested in the posters hanging from the walls. some talked of buruli ulcer, others of the benefits of breastfeeding, one showed pictures of before and after cleft palate surgeries, then one i hadn't ever seen before. i stepped up to it closely. it read:
AVIAN BIRD FLU
then it went on to list what to do with a dead bird.
1. Alert! If you find a dead bird, DO NOT TOUCH IT!!!
i thought of Sakola and our resident bird which had since grown thin, close to baring it's bones. then i reflected on the many dead birds i had been finding around our house recently, small ones that could fit in the palm of my hand.
"Sakola why so many?" i had asked.
he motioned that they fly into the house at night, then drop dead from the impact. i had a hard time believing that.
there were two yellow-breasted birds lying dead at the foot of the well. they were so close to each other they looked like they were spooning. birds don't fall dead in that position.
2. If you should touch a dead bird, WEAR PROTECTIVE GEAR!
"Sakola this is gross." i had said. i knew he was killing them with his slingshot. "could you move these?"
he picked them up and threw them into the brush.
the further i read the poster the more ridiculous it seemed. i could barely imagine Sakola running to the health clinic to buy gloves to move our dead birds.
i heard a loud scream from a baby down the hallway. SHIT, i thought, i missed the birth! i ran down into the room Yaa had been in. there was a tiny boy being circumcised and Yaa was not there. the screams were coming from him and i quickly left the room.
i walked by the room the woman who had suffered the abortion had been in. she wasn't there, but Yaa was, sitting upright with her knees pulled in close to her chest. she was giving birth. i ran in next to her side.
"PPPPPPPPUSSSSSSSH! PUSSSSSSSSSSHHH!" the midwives were instructing. nothing about Yaa's body made it seem like it was the right time to push. she looked exhausted.
"PPPPPPPPPPUSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH" they screamed.
the energy wasn't fluid. Yaa's body was being told one thing by the staff, but it was apparent she was feeling something entirely different. the midwives would have none of it, the little one slapped her hard across her face, harder than i would have liked to witness.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUSSHHHHH!" they started to speak quickly in Twi, but i caught a lot of it. they told her her baby would die if she didn't start pushing and she needed to try harder. i wiped the sweat from her face and propped her knees up closer to her shoulders. she bore down so hard and long it made me tired. then she came back for a breath but the midwives didn't believe in breathing it seemed because they both slapped her across her face numerous times, each weighty and hard, and screamed at her even louder.
i wanted to run.
i wanted to get as far away from this scene as i could.
i hated it.
i tried to tell myself it was just a cultural difference but by the look on Yaa's face this was not something she was accustomed too. i couldn't leave but i didn't want to watch.
i held my friends hand and looked into her eyes. i silently tried my hardest to give her what little strength i had.
the white dressed midwife pulled up a stool, next to the side of Yaa. She stood on top and looked down at us.
"in ghana here" she was sweating "we call this FUNDAL PRESSURE." she clasped her hands together and pressed down at the top of Yaa's stomach. Yaa gritted her teeth and turned her head away. She winced and then yelled. The midwife began pumping her hands up and down and screaming at Yaa to push. "FUNDAL PRESSURE" she said again, looking at me.
I must have had my mouth hanging open out of complete disbelief because the lady asked me "why, you don't do this in America?"
i didn't say anything.
she kept pumping Yaa's stomach until she was too tired and had to stop to catch HER breath. "i'm tired!" she said. then she resumed.
the baby's head poked in and out, the way a difficult tube of toothpaste reluctantly lets the last bit free. they had been successful in objectifying Yaa into the state of a tube of toothpaste too.
her baby came following the trauma with a half convincing cry and skin as white as snow.
"OOOHHHHH!" everybody laughed "it is a white baby! baby white boy!"
someone mentioned i had turned a black baby white just by being in the delivery room. "good job, you made him white!"
it added a little humor to the situation, but i couldn't think too hard about being congratulated on an inherently racist joke. now was not the time to try and ask WHY she thought white was more beautiful. the baby was alive and healthy, and that i was thankful for.
the short aggressive midwife dangled the baby from his feet and whacked his butt and thighs with all her might over and over. this was not how Ma whacked. it was not a loving act. i gasped.
"you probably don't beat your babies in america either, do you? DO YOU?"
i looked at Yaa and she had covered her eyes.
they plopped him down on a table while they attended to the delivery of the placenta. he sat there, body stiff as a corn of cob with attached wirey wriggly limbs.
were they going to wash him? bundle him? make him warm? time passed.
i wasn't going to wait any longer.
"can i please wash the baby?"
they were crowded around Yaa, tending to 3rd stage needs. "do you know how to wash a baby?" they asked.
"yes! i do."
"you can go ahead then"
i picked him up and brought him over to the wash basin. i poured the water over his head and scrubbed his slimy body. i overcompensated their roughness with gentleness. i pondered if he was albino and wanted to ask. i wasn't interested in any further conversation with the hospital staff so i took a closer look at the baby and saw his eyebrows and eyelashes carried pigment. kofi oburoni. friday born white boy. he isn't albino, just very white.
i dried him, weighed him, bundled him, and went into the room i had spent time in before. the circumcised baby was gone but the woman who had the abortion was resting a few feet away. i felt conflicted, holding a beautiful alive creation, next to someone who had just lost theirs. she looked over at us and grinned. i said "kofi oburoni" and she let out a faint faraway sigh that seemed to come from a place of appreciation.
the midwife came in and asked "why are you sitting here? bring the child to the other room. your friend will meet you there."
i held him close as i strolled through the hospitals corridors. i joked to one person that the baby i was holding was mine. i had just given birth! didn't i look great? when she believed me i decided to stop with that joke, i deserved no fake credit, this child took a lot of work.
i walked into a room filled with beds lined up in a row, like the 7 dwarfs, except each had their own mosquito net. i walked down to a bed that felt right and sat down. Yaa came in, wrapped in a beautiful orange and purple cloth, hair in disarray. she came and plopped herself down with a defeated look on her face.
"you worked hard" i said, handing over her child. the sisters swept in carrying food and thanksgiving. they inspected the child and adored his mother with praise.
i left them to be and went outside. the road just outside the hospital was busy and loud. i was thirsty and could feel the processing of what just happened beginning to make it's way through my mind.
i looked up and saw a billboard that had comforted me in many uncomfortable times. it was a huge picture of Senam. he was smiling, wearing a colorful african robe, with his arms stretched out, modeling for a local telephone company. Areeba, the phone company, had come to the college campus in Accra looking for a good-looking man to represent their product. they had chosen Senam, and his picture was plastered all over Ghana. i sat and stared at it for awhile. the image brought me some peace, he always appeared at just the right time. a woman walked by with a cooler of bagged water balancing on her head.
i bought one and hung out with the picture of my friend for a while. then i went back into the hospital.
Yaa was going to sleep there that night, so i bid her farewell and jumped into a tro tro with her sister. the other one stayed behind to wash the cloths used during the birth. she would be coming shortly.
we didn't speak once on the way back to the village. it was the type of silence that comes from having experienced something so intense words are no longer needed. she heard the midwives yelling at Yaa, she knew what had gone on. my shirt was stained, matching the pee stain on my skirt from earlier in the day, my face was greasy and i was ready for bed. it had been a long day. this woman, Yaa's sister, had the face of a full moon, and friendly cheeks. i found comfort in that. she leaned her head against the window and stared blankly into the distance. when we reached my house i alighted, gave a little wave, and walked inside.
sakola was sitting at the table, waiting for me with a bowl of tomato fish soup. he wanted to know where i had been.
"i went to Konongo, to the hospital."
"why?"
"your sister" i said "she had her baby."
"you lie." he gave me a little smile.
"it's true. a little boy. kofi."
"ei! serious? ohhhhhhhhh" he shook around a bit "thank you Jesus."
"and" i noted "he is verrrry white."
"like you?"
"even more."
"you lie!"
"tomorrow, we'll go and see."
i was glad i could have been some help to Yaa, but i wondered truly how much help had i offered?
i was present which is sometimes all the help somebody needs, and i did all i could, so instead of worrying i decided to eat soup.
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