i've started spending more time in Maame Vic's office, listening and watching while her and sophie diagnose patients. it's interesting, and has turned into a hub of experience.
"instead of bending like this" sofie bends down from her waist and touches the ground "you should do this." she lets her knees drop down and picks up a book, then straightens her legs. vic translates to use your knees not your back and the patient explodes into a look as if he has just seen God. he is in utter amazement at this new way to move. "thank you thank you" he says, nodding and bowing as he leaves the office.
it's the simple things.
but on some morning's, on this particular morning, it was far from simple. a young mother was sitting by the side of maame vic's desk, explaining her symptoms. she had a wiggly cheerful infant in her arms (who was not yet 4 months) but the woman lacked energy. she was complaining of fatigue, vomiting, and stomach pains.
"sister akua, can you get down for us please?" maame vic was motioning me off the exam bed, the young lady needed my spot to lie down and have her body checked. i jumped down and moved out of their way. she lifted her shirt and they palpitated her abdomen. then vic asked her a series of questions.
"we should send her to the laboratory to complete a pregnancy test." vic said, opening the door for her to head over to kingsley. then she shut it. "her baby is niiiiicce, a nice child!" she concluded. "but you see, these women come to me because they don't suspect they are pregnant. they think these symptoms are because of something else. either they don't suspect or they pretend to not know and hope i will tell them it is something else."
we sat for a small time and then the woman reappeared. kingsley was walking behind her, with his usual sneaky grin. "the test is positive" he said "it is positive for pregnancy. her child is sooo young and she has already gotten pregnant, truly wonderful." he meant that word to actually mean; full of wonder, not "great".
the woman sat back down in her chair. she hadn't understood what kingsley had said, because he didn't tell her in twi so vic waited a professional moment before she relayed the results.
positive pregnancy tests innately make me happy, so when i saw the look on the woman's face i had to readjust my initial excitement. she hung her head low and froze. she seemed to suddenly forget the child in her arms, and let the baby flop about. i walked over and held the little girl.
the energy in the room got thick and i felt my throat tighten. i swallowed the lump that was going to burst into congratulatory praise and instead sat in the uncomfortable moment, not really sure what to say, i focused more on looking at the baby's face. it was really cute.
ma vic looked at sofie and i and said "she is not yet 22 and has a 3 year old and her small child here. it's too bad. and you see her? she's crying. it's too bad. this child will suffer."
the girl had dammed her tears up, but occasionally one or two burst through. then she'd bury her face for a second in her handkerchief and give it a long slow tired wipe.
"your mother is crying." vic told the 3 month old.
it was the only thing that was uttered for minutes, while we all sat through vic's heavy sighs and head nods. then she broke the silence by telling the woman to return with her husband, for some family planning counseling and to see Ma.
then she left, more depleted than when she had come.
when the door had fully closed, sophie broke through, opinionated and abrupt.
"THAT IS SUCH SHIT!" she yelled. "the men have all the fun and leave the women with all the suffering, and the work. this is such shit."
although, her british accent even made "shit" sound nice, i was a little embarrassed that she had cussed in front of Maame Vic. i had only heard nanakwame and sakola use profanity once at the dinner table, so i had grown unaccustomed to it, but it felt appropriate in some ways because the moment was heated.
"no, it really is shit. pregnancy is such a high risk." she held up her fingers to explain the first of the risk factors. "african women are at a much higher risk when they become pregnant. first, because of malaria. they lose all their acquired immunity when they become pregnant, so there is that. second the risk of abortion and third the actual delivery. everything is riskier here, it just is."
maame vic interceded "i asked her to bring her husband back here the day after tomorrow. i will give them counseling. as for these people, if the husband says he doesn't want the baby she will have an abortion, but if he says he wants it she will by all means have the child. but you see, there is the danger of these illegal abortions they do. women will bleed profusely and die, so i have told her to come to the clinic. when i explain this to the husband they will then know. it is not advisable to give yourself an abortion."
i thought of konongo hospital and the screams. i thought of senam's neighbor and close friend in Ho, a girl of 22 who had just died from this. it was all too common.
"...but often times they don't come until weeks later for something other than antenatals and they tell me their pregnancy has just gone." she shrugged her shoulders. "they come if they don't die."
after a deep breath, and a careful delivery, sofie said "first off, i don't agree with abortion as a form of birth control, how so many women in the west use it. they just get pregnant and say 'oh whoops! guess i'll have an abortion. they do that 4, 5, 6 times. i can't stand it when they come into my office and i see that. take some fucking responsibility for your actions. but i do believe in legalized abortion, and this is a perfect example. in situations like this the risk factors are too high. that woman clearly doesn't want her child. if she goes and gives herself an abortion, because it is illegal, she could die. there needs to be facilities that are safe and legal. people need to be able to have abortions without dying."
there was an awkward silence, begging for someone else's opinion to come and keep the conversation flowing.
i wasn't ready to take a stand on the abortion talk, because i didn't know what side to stand on. personally, i knew what i would do, but i was still digesting the complexities of society, of life as a village woman, and more specific... of this last patient who just left. what would it be like to have no control like that? to be so young with 3 children? she would surely have double by the time she hit 30. how could she afford that?
but when i thought of her stopping what had already been started, of terminating the life of a living baby, i felt weak and sad. it made my gut hurt. i wished for some type of solution.
i wondered what the reasons were that this woman didn't want to be pregnant; there could be so many.
vic continued "many women, they don't want to get pregnant so they won't fornicate. they think if they fornicate, by all means they will become pregnant, so they prefer not to."
"that's a hard ultimatum for a lifelong relationship." i said. i spent a brief moment sympathizing with both sides, male and female. a life spent with a wife who doesn't want sex, or a life spent feeding, cleaning, raising, birthing and loving a family that only keeps growing. since it mostly isn't the woman's choice that wins out in the end i began to feel really upset. the lack of choice was so apparent.
"but as for the men, if they want to have sex the women don't have a choice." she said.
"why don't they just use some form of birth control?" i wondered. i knew it wasn't that simple, but i still had to ask.
"as for Depo (provera) the men think once their wives are injected they won't fear the pregnancy, instead, they think their wives will go around fornicating with other men because they won't be able to become pregnant. that is what they think. so they don't want them to use it."
"oh, really. hm."
"women have got no say in the matter!" sophie said "it's so frustrating."
"vic, do you think women have sex for pleasure here?"
"the couple has to communicate." she said. "they have to know the right time to fornicate, know when her last menses was and then she can tell her husband 'lets wait it's too risky at this time.' then when they choose the correct time they can feel free."
"but even then" sophie said "that method, it is still unreliable. there have been studies that show some women actually ovulate while they bleed. so that won't work. they need to come in to the clinic for birth control."
"they come!" vic said. "they come."
"but they don't!" sofie said. "there are thousands of people out there and comparatively, they aren't coming. i haven't seen anyone since i've been here, come in for family planning."
i had only seen a handful.
"they come in during the night." vic said. "as for the village, people will talk. not everybody thinks birth control is okay, so many of the ones who want it, they come to me in the night. they tell their husbands they have a headache, then they take the 6,000 cedis (80 cents) and come for their injection in the night. so you see? they come, but you are right, not too many. mostly the muslim women come."
"well more women should be coming. we need to educate them and let them know about family planning."
the conversation was turning from a sense of dread into being proactive, i could sense it. when ideas are shared and people care enough collaboration become a beautiful soup. start with something basic, add some ideas, season with each others feedback, let it simmer, think a bit, add some more input, stir our brains together, and let it cook for just a while longer.
"i know! on outreach days we should do a family planning talk and let the women get their birth control then." sofie said.
"ummm, but in that case, they will always be expecting US to come to THEM. that is how they are. if we bring the birth control to them they will wait for us to return, they won't come to the clinic. perhaps we should do it here."
"here would be good. but we have to decide upon a day and do it weekly. maybe fridays?" sofie said, quickly correcting herself "oh no no, fridays are market days. howabout thursdays?"
"everybody will be preparing for the market, going to farm."
"wednesdays?"
brains were thinking, then a collaborative "YES!"
"okay, we'll have our women's day on wednesday's. hey! wednesday women's day!"
we all laughed.
vic said "i will go to town and talk to the churches, that way everybody will know to come on wednesday's. and i'll go to the mosque."
i was a bit confused. "will they support you?"
"oh you see, the women they meet in the week. the presby's meet on tuesday evenings, and the methodists meet on thursdays. the muslim women gather together on friday's, so it is like that. i will go to the women's groups and tell them about women's days, tell them to come to our talks. but when the men find out they won't allow their women to do family planning, so instead we won't mention it. we can talk about breast examination, cervical cancer, the importance of going for check-ups, and then... at the end... we will spend a lot of time educating them on family planning."
sofie left the room and in less than 5 minutes had all the staff gathered outside the office, including me and vic.
"we have to do these things when we think of them, or else we'll just sit around saying 'next week' 'next week'." vera, efreeyeh, kingsley, secetry, watchman, ma, vic and i were all crowded around. "so this is it. we've been talking in the office and have decided we need to prioritize. women in the village really need to know that we offer birth control at the clinic, and they need to be educated about their choices. so starting this wednesday we are going to do 'woman's days' where all this will take place. what time do you think we should do this?"
after a short time we all decided upon the morning, and everybody was excited.
we disbanded in unity and empowerment, saying...
"we have to let people know, spread the word!"
it was nice to be ignited by passion again.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
#~#~$~$
"andrew and i are traveling this weekend if you'd like to come?"
i thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea to leave the village, it had been quite some time since i took a short vacation and i wouldn't mind tagging along. "where do you plan on going?" i asked.
"we want to go a little north of kumasi and visit a monkey sanctuary and some waterfalls, then go and see this project that Andrew is quite interested in. yeah?"
"okay, sure!" i hadn't been to any of those places, and trusted Andrew's interests- even though i had no idea what this 'project' would be. it'd be nice to see something new.
"i heard you can swim there, at the waterfalls." she said.
the idea of dunking myself in a body of water was exhilarating. we both let loose our widest whitest grins, knowing how simply luxurious this could be.
"we'll leave after work on friday and take monday off. does that work for you?"
"yep."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
when friday rolled around i let auntie know we wouldn't be there that weekend, and really i wasn't sure if she would care either way.
sakola wanted to be certain of all our travel details.
on my walk home from work i stopped over at collins house to say goodbye. "travel safe." he said.
"thanks collins."
he laughed. i can tell he thinks i'm really funny, but it's nothing i do on my own accord, my presence makes him burst out in glee. in some ways i feel like his favorite carnival ride, with an ego.
"hey where is nanakwame?" i asked.
"nanakwame, he, he is working today." and he pointed in the direction of the road.
nanakwame had just recently been hired as a mate, which was proving to be full time work. he hadn't been around for the past week, but i managed to cross his path if he came home late and i hadn't left his new place to go back to mine to sleep.
every tro tro in ghana has what is called "a mate". a mate is an integral person in the tro tro business. he is equally as important as the driver and more accessible. the way a chief has a linguist, a driver has a mate. all inquiries, complaints, and conversation should be directed to him.
a mate's job requires many things; hanging out the window announcing to crowds where the car is headed, taking money from all the passengers, changing flat tires, keeping the peace inside a tro tro, etc.
to catch a ride on a tro tro, one must only pay special attention to the mate, what he is saying and what his hands are doing as the car whizzes past. if the car is headed to accra, he'll point his hand far out ahead of him and wave it from front to back screaming "KRA KRA KRA KRA KRA!". if this is the destination you desire you stick out your arm and wiggle your hand around. the car will then pull over where ever you are standing and let you in.
i don't trust many mates. they tend to be sneaky and conniving. they always charge me extra because i'm white. i hand them my bill and they "forget" to give me my full change. they think they will get away with it until i remind them in a car full of 16 people. i like to sit in the middle, so i yell this to the front through everybody's ears.
"i might not be Ghanaian, but i do know the fare. you are cheating me, give me my change please."
i say this all in perfect twi, and on good days with a smile. once everybody hears me nobody holds back. the car bursts out in clapping and laughter, the mate is shamed for a second or two, and then i receive about 10 'you have done well's!'.
i thought about nanakwame, he's mischievous and sneaky, in an adorable way. i don't think he'd try to cheat me.
sofie hadn't gotten to know nanakwame yet, "he was always at work" she said.
"he just got this job." i replied, hoping he hadn't disappeared from my life forever.
it was strange to not have him around in my every day, and i was missing his palpable energy, but i was glad for him. work is not always easy to come by here, so i know it was making him happy.
i looked back at collins as i walked away. "tell nanakwame, when he gets home from work, that i say hi and bye and i'll be back on monday, sofie and i are leaving the village to travel with andrew."
"okay! see you!!!" he yelled back.
the weekend had officially begun, and i was looking forward to the adventure.
i thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea to leave the village, it had been quite some time since i took a short vacation and i wouldn't mind tagging along. "where do you plan on going?" i asked.
"we want to go a little north of kumasi and visit a monkey sanctuary and some waterfalls, then go and see this project that Andrew is quite interested in. yeah?"
"okay, sure!" i hadn't been to any of those places, and trusted Andrew's interests- even though i had no idea what this 'project' would be. it'd be nice to see something new.
"i heard you can swim there, at the waterfalls." she said.
the idea of dunking myself in a body of water was exhilarating. we both let loose our widest whitest grins, knowing how simply luxurious this could be.
"we'll leave after work on friday and take monday off. does that work for you?"
"yep."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
when friday rolled around i let auntie know we wouldn't be there that weekend, and really i wasn't sure if she would care either way.
sakola wanted to be certain of all our travel details.
on my walk home from work i stopped over at collins house to say goodbye. "travel safe." he said.
"thanks collins."
he laughed. i can tell he thinks i'm really funny, but it's nothing i do on my own accord, my presence makes him burst out in glee. in some ways i feel like his favorite carnival ride, with an ego.
"hey where is nanakwame?" i asked.
"nanakwame, he, he is working today." and he pointed in the direction of the road.
nanakwame had just recently been hired as a mate, which was proving to be full time work. he hadn't been around for the past week, but i managed to cross his path if he came home late and i hadn't left his new place to go back to mine to sleep.
every tro tro in ghana has what is called "a mate". a mate is an integral person in the tro tro business. he is equally as important as the driver and more accessible. the way a chief has a linguist, a driver has a mate. all inquiries, complaints, and conversation should be directed to him.
a mate's job requires many things; hanging out the window announcing to crowds where the car is headed, taking money from all the passengers, changing flat tires, keeping the peace inside a tro tro, etc.
to catch a ride on a tro tro, one must only pay special attention to the mate, what he is saying and what his hands are doing as the car whizzes past. if the car is headed to accra, he'll point his hand far out ahead of him and wave it from front to back screaming "KRA KRA KRA KRA KRA!". if this is the destination you desire you stick out your arm and wiggle your hand around. the car will then pull over where ever you are standing and let you in.
i don't trust many mates. they tend to be sneaky and conniving. they always charge me extra because i'm white. i hand them my bill and they "forget" to give me my full change. they think they will get away with it until i remind them in a car full of 16 people. i like to sit in the middle, so i yell this to the front through everybody's ears.
"i might not be Ghanaian, but i do know the fare. you are cheating me, give me my change please."
i say this all in perfect twi, and on good days with a smile. once everybody hears me nobody holds back. the car bursts out in clapping and laughter, the mate is shamed for a second or two, and then i receive about 10 'you have done well's!'.
i thought about nanakwame, he's mischievous and sneaky, in an adorable way. i don't think he'd try to cheat me.
sofie hadn't gotten to know nanakwame yet, "he was always at work" she said.
"he just got this job." i replied, hoping he hadn't disappeared from my life forever.
it was strange to not have him around in my every day, and i was missing his palpable energy, but i was glad for him. work is not always easy to come by here, so i know it was making him happy.
i looked back at collins as i walked away. "tell nanakwame, when he gets home from work, that i say hi and bye and i'll be back on monday, sofie and i are leaving the village to travel with andrew."
"okay! see you!!!" he yelled back.
the weekend had officially begun, and i was looking forward to the adventure.
corinthians comes to the rescue
sofie was dissecting the clinic, the way a good high school biologist would pick apart a dead frog.
on her second day at work, she pinpointed exactly who performed which duties and asked them each separately to explain to her what those were. then she skillfully interviewed them of any complaints they may have within their role and possible ways to solve them.
secetry talked about local villages needing boreholes dug and schools put in. she took notes and brainstormed ways to take steps to make that happen.
ma was upset she wasn't able to watch television. she also wanted to be given a moped. the vision of that made me laugh, but sofie maintained complete composure.
i watched her with each person and took special note of how she communicated. i liked the way she listened, it looked effortless and truly involved. somehow she conveyed extreme concern without wrinkling any part of her face. i decided she was beautiful.
her drive made me self-conscious. i stopped napping at work, and instead sat around and listened to her verbalize her visions.
she taught us all an early morning lesson on family planning, and had excellent teaching skills as well. Ma even noticed and asked me if sofie was a teacher back home. "no." i said, but Ma wouldn't believe it. "but she is very good at teaching, she must be a teacher." she said again.
her style was relaxed and down to earth, but she was pumped full of education, you could just tell. but deeper than that, there was something i couldn't quite figure out. it was the reason why i liked her so much. it was real, it was also elusive.
after lunch i sat in the office, typing stories and feeling a little useless at the clinic. benches were full of sick patients or people afflicted by mistakes or their own carelessness. sofie recommended i watch the suturing of the gash in a farmers knee, i would be doing a similar thing as a midwife one day. that was happening in the dressing room. i went in shortly and observed but the needle was so blunt and efreeyeh's hands were struggling to pierce through the flesh and i was beginning to feel a bit uneasy, so i left.
ma was perched, keeping close watch on the empty maternity ward and occasionally snoozing.
vera was busy in the dispensary, drug dealing and handling cash.
kingsley had his eye glued to the microscope, excited by the spotting of malaria parasites and handing in his results to Madame vic and Sophie, who set up treatment plans and helped people venture back towards health.
secetry was running around, filling out papers, doing errands, being a secetary.
i felt like a fish out of water, so retreated to the office and spent time with my close friend, the laptop. from time to time i would look out the window and realize i had no expertise to help any of the people i was spying on. why was i at this clinic?
i reminded myself of my mission. i wasn't coming to study medicine, or tropical disease, or even nursing. i was here to submerge myself in the life of midwifery. but still, i felt like a leech at best, a fraud at worst. i wasn't "helping", and i had ghosts from home whispering in my ears.
"kacie, you are amazing. going to a place like africa to help the poor."
"you're in our thoughts, you are such a humanitarian. you are one special girl."
i didn't come over here with those intentions, but somehow got pigeon holed into a certain category i had no place being included in. if only these people knew the truth. if only they knew i sat idly while villagers lined up to receive help from the real heroes.
i was having a hard time being easy on myself, when there wasn't a pregnant woman in sight to remind me of my goals, and the day was growing long.
sofie came in for a lunch break once the clinic cleared up a bit.
she sat back on the couch and asked me in between bites "do you know how to touch type?"
the question seemed funny, like asking if i knew how to skip.
"ya." i said, lowering my screen a bit so i could properly look at her.
some time passed with no conversation, so i continued typing. then i stopped again and asked her "did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?" expecting a firm 'yes' as a reply.
"no" she said "i decided 2 weeks before going into uni."
"really?" i laughed.
"i wanted to study history but i'm actually really horrible at reading and writing, so i picked medicine instead. there isn't much reading in medicine."
i was taken aback.
"and i'm horrible at spelling." she said.
come to mention it, i had noticed her spelling errors on the chalkboard during her morning health lessons. subconsciously i didn't believe a GP was allowed to be a bad speller, so i passed them off as awkward abbreviations.
i was feeling less bad about not being a doctor.
"i'm severely dyslexic." she said.
i was completely interested in whatever she had to say, so i just stayed silent.
"i moved to the uk from switzerland when i was 12 and i didn't speak any english. my teachers just kept saying my being dyslexic was because i was learning a new language, so i went through testing and the results were actually quite horrendous." her face had changed. it seemed more stiff and protected. all that she was sharing had brought out her vulnerable side. she stuttered a bit, not sure if she should keep going. "the specialist, he- yah. well, he-" ... "his diagnosis was really quite awful. he said somebody with the severity of my disability would be unlikely to pursue higher education. when i read that i thought 'stuff it' and worked like mad to get really high marks. then i applied to oxford!"
we both laughed.
"did you get in?" i asked.
"no, but i went to cambridge, which is still quite a good school. but really, i think most doctors are insecure and feel the need to prove themselves, if i hadn't i wouldn't have been able to make it through school. so i look at my learning disability as a blessing in a way, because if i didn't have it i'm sure i wouldn't be a doctor. i would have been satisfied with my intelligence and became lazy."
more silence, then...
"but growing up i was completely insecure about reading in class out loud or just reading in general, really. i hated it. it took me ages to finish a book and i still have a really difficult time with it."
that explained why Andrew, her boyfriend, read novels aloud to her when he came to visit on the weekends. i thought it was cute, but now it was sweet for entirely different reasons.
"in uni i met a friend who was just like me. we both had a really hard time remembering things, so we'd study together and draw pictures and memorize information in creative ways, which helped a lot..."
"...but i was told its good for dyslexic people to learn how to touch type, for some reason or another, i forget. maybe that can be one of my focuses while i'm here, can you teach me?"
"sure?!"
"have you ever taught touch typing before?"
"no, i haven't, but we can think something up."
she ran over to the desk and turned the computer and put her hands on the keys.
"oh now?" i asked.
"or whenever." she said self-consciously.
"now is fine" i said, trying to encourage her with a change in my voice.
we spent the next 20 minutes trying to think up ways to improve her typing. she was eager and excited to learn.
"first let's see what keys you already know." i said. "so when i ask you to press a letter, DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYBOARD!"
she nodded, ready like an attentive passenger during take off.
"a." i said.
she pressed down the "a" button a whole bunch of times.
"d."
ddddddd.
"f"
ggggggg.
"no, f."
kkkkkkk
"no, f."
nnnnnnn
i marked "f" as something she needed to practice.
we went through the alphabet just like that and came up with little lessons to strengthen her skill. the words of my high school typing teacher, a short round woman who was always in a pleasant mood, echoed in my ears. "i have alumni returning to my class every year to drop in and tell me that this class, typing, was the most important class they ever took." then she'd chuckle from the plain truth.
while i was working with sofie i stopped taking my speedy fingers for granted. i am a skilled typist, i thought, straightening up in my seat. i may not know how to sew up a cut but i can type a mean quick sentence, flawlessly. i delighted in creation, at how different we all are, and how god strings us all together into interrealtional harmony at just the perfect time, just before a tiny bout of afternoon office despair and insecurity reels me further into oblivion.
and then i smiled, knowing i believe in a god who knows me well, too well!
"now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of spirit to the common good. " 1st Corinthians 12 1-7...
"For the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot should say, "because i am not a hand, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. and if the ear should say, "because i am not an eye, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. if the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? if the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? but as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19.
sofie clapped her hands together a bunch of times and brought them close to her mouth as if she was going to chew off all her nails. she was obviously looking forward to conquering the keyboard with nervous anticipation, and i was glad to be of any help.
"do you think i'll be able to do it?" she asked.
"yes." i said "i'll help you."
on her second day at work, she pinpointed exactly who performed which duties and asked them each separately to explain to her what those were. then she skillfully interviewed them of any complaints they may have within their role and possible ways to solve them.
secetry talked about local villages needing boreholes dug and schools put in. she took notes and brainstormed ways to take steps to make that happen.
ma was upset she wasn't able to watch television. she also wanted to be given a moped. the vision of that made me laugh, but sofie maintained complete composure.
i watched her with each person and took special note of how she communicated. i liked the way she listened, it looked effortless and truly involved. somehow she conveyed extreme concern without wrinkling any part of her face. i decided she was beautiful.
her drive made me self-conscious. i stopped napping at work, and instead sat around and listened to her verbalize her visions.
she taught us all an early morning lesson on family planning, and had excellent teaching skills as well. Ma even noticed and asked me if sofie was a teacher back home. "no." i said, but Ma wouldn't believe it. "but she is very good at teaching, she must be a teacher." she said again.
her style was relaxed and down to earth, but she was pumped full of education, you could just tell. but deeper than that, there was something i couldn't quite figure out. it was the reason why i liked her so much. it was real, it was also elusive.
after lunch i sat in the office, typing stories and feeling a little useless at the clinic. benches were full of sick patients or people afflicted by mistakes or their own carelessness. sofie recommended i watch the suturing of the gash in a farmers knee, i would be doing a similar thing as a midwife one day. that was happening in the dressing room. i went in shortly and observed but the needle was so blunt and efreeyeh's hands were struggling to pierce through the flesh and i was beginning to feel a bit uneasy, so i left.
ma was perched, keeping close watch on the empty maternity ward and occasionally snoozing.
vera was busy in the dispensary, drug dealing and handling cash.
kingsley had his eye glued to the microscope, excited by the spotting of malaria parasites and handing in his results to Madame vic and Sophie, who set up treatment plans and helped people venture back towards health.
secetry was running around, filling out papers, doing errands, being a secetary.
i felt like a fish out of water, so retreated to the office and spent time with my close friend, the laptop. from time to time i would look out the window and realize i had no expertise to help any of the people i was spying on. why was i at this clinic?
i reminded myself of my mission. i wasn't coming to study medicine, or tropical disease, or even nursing. i was here to submerge myself in the life of midwifery. but still, i felt like a leech at best, a fraud at worst. i wasn't "helping", and i had ghosts from home whispering in my ears.
"kacie, you are amazing. going to a place like africa to help the poor."
"you're in our thoughts, you are such a humanitarian. you are one special girl."
i didn't come over here with those intentions, but somehow got pigeon holed into a certain category i had no place being included in. if only these people knew the truth. if only they knew i sat idly while villagers lined up to receive help from the real heroes.
i was having a hard time being easy on myself, when there wasn't a pregnant woman in sight to remind me of my goals, and the day was growing long.
sofie came in for a lunch break once the clinic cleared up a bit.
she sat back on the couch and asked me in between bites "do you know how to touch type?"
the question seemed funny, like asking if i knew how to skip.
"ya." i said, lowering my screen a bit so i could properly look at her.
some time passed with no conversation, so i continued typing. then i stopped again and asked her "did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?" expecting a firm 'yes' as a reply.
"no" she said "i decided 2 weeks before going into uni."
"really?" i laughed.
"i wanted to study history but i'm actually really horrible at reading and writing, so i picked medicine instead. there isn't much reading in medicine."
i was taken aback.
"and i'm horrible at spelling." she said.
come to mention it, i had noticed her spelling errors on the chalkboard during her morning health lessons. subconsciously i didn't believe a GP was allowed to be a bad speller, so i passed them off as awkward abbreviations.
i was feeling less bad about not being a doctor.
"i'm severely dyslexic." she said.
i was completely interested in whatever she had to say, so i just stayed silent.
"i moved to the uk from switzerland when i was 12 and i didn't speak any english. my teachers just kept saying my being dyslexic was because i was learning a new language, so i went through testing and the results were actually quite horrendous." her face had changed. it seemed more stiff and protected. all that she was sharing had brought out her vulnerable side. she stuttered a bit, not sure if she should keep going. "the specialist, he- yah. well, he-" ... "his diagnosis was really quite awful. he said somebody with the severity of my disability would be unlikely to pursue higher education. when i read that i thought 'stuff it' and worked like mad to get really high marks. then i applied to oxford!"
we both laughed.
"did you get in?" i asked.
"no, but i went to cambridge, which is still quite a good school. but really, i think most doctors are insecure and feel the need to prove themselves, if i hadn't i wouldn't have been able to make it through school. so i look at my learning disability as a blessing in a way, because if i didn't have it i'm sure i wouldn't be a doctor. i would have been satisfied with my intelligence and became lazy."
more silence, then...
"but growing up i was completely insecure about reading in class out loud or just reading in general, really. i hated it. it took me ages to finish a book and i still have a really difficult time with it."
that explained why Andrew, her boyfriend, read novels aloud to her when he came to visit on the weekends. i thought it was cute, but now it was sweet for entirely different reasons.
"in uni i met a friend who was just like me. we both had a really hard time remembering things, so we'd study together and draw pictures and memorize information in creative ways, which helped a lot..."
"...but i was told its good for dyslexic people to learn how to touch type, for some reason or another, i forget. maybe that can be one of my focuses while i'm here, can you teach me?"
"sure?!"
"have you ever taught touch typing before?"
"no, i haven't, but we can think something up."
she ran over to the desk and turned the computer and put her hands on the keys.
"oh now?" i asked.
"or whenever." she said self-consciously.
"now is fine" i said, trying to encourage her with a change in my voice.
we spent the next 20 minutes trying to think up ways to improve her typing. she was eager and excited to learn.
"first let's see what keys you already know." i said. "so when i ask you to press a letter, DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYBOARD!"
she nodded, ready like an attentive passenger during take off.
"a." i said.
she pressed down the "a" button a whole bunch of times.
"d."
ddddddd.
"f"
ggggggg.
"no, f."
kkkkkkk
"no, f."
nnnnnnn
i marked "f" as something she needed to practice.
we went through the alphabet just like that and came up with little lessons to strengthen her skill. the words of my high school typing teacher, a short round woman who was always in a pleasant mood, echoed in my ears. "i have alumni returning to my class every year to drop in and tell me that this class, typing, was the most important class they ever took." then she'd chuckle from the plain truth.
while i was working with sofie i stopped taking my speedy fingers for granted. i am a skilled typist, i thought, straightening up in my seat. i may not know how to sew up a cut but i can type a mean quick sentence, flawlessly. i delighted in creation, at how different we all are, and how god strings us all together into interrealtional harmony at just the perfect time, just before a tiny bout of afternoon office despair and insecurity reels me further into oblivion.
and then i smiled, knowing i believe in a god who knows me well, too well!
"now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of spirit to the common good. " 1st Corinthians 12 1-7...
"For the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot should say, "because i am not a hand, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. and if the ear should say, "because i am not an eye, i do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. if the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? if the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? but as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? 1 Corinthians 12: 14-19.
sofie clapped her hands together a bunch of times and brought them close to her mouth as if she was going to chew off all her nails. she was obviously looking forward to conquering the keyboard with nervous anticipation, and i was glad to be of any help.
"do you think i'll be able to do it?" she asked.
"yes." i said "i'll help you."
auntie unravels
"africans are really moody." sofie mentioned, as we were walking across the courtyard into our house. i wasn't sure why she thought that and i was finding her perceptions to be quite different than mine. "sakola in particular."
i took a moment to reflect on sakola's moods, which had seemed to be either hot or cold since sofie arrived, but i knew where they were stemming from.
"well sakola has been a bit moody, but there is a lot going on in his life right now. i think it's affecting him."
"like what?" she asked.
"auntie, mostly, and a few other added pressures."
"what's aunties problem?"
in the past few weeks it seemed she had a bundle load. each night we came home to her walking in little circles, mumbling her worries and complaints out to the universe. then the moment she spied sakola she'd reel him in with her sticky tentacles and chew him out for hours regarding things made up or having nothing to do with him.
"what has sakola done to auntie? she's quite difficult isn't she?"
i wasn't sure if auntie wanted any of us around. her son was supposed to be staying for a few days, and his visit was lasting weeks. the first few days he arrived went great. we spent the long dark hours of the night sitting around the dining room table while he inspired me with long monologues of living life as a walking tabernacle of acceptance and love. he spoke of an earth permeated with the love of god, agape love, unconditional and unchanging. then he talked of inviting that love to live in oneself, to fill up on it and essentially overflow with it. "are you following me?" he'd continuously ask. i'd just nod, waiting to hear more.
i really loved those late night chats, and my heart began to open up to him and feel glad we were sharing a living space.
but as the days grew on, seth became more and more antisocial. to deal with his strange behavior i was forced to make believe elaborate stories. i settled on this rough version:
him coming to visit his mother for his last few days on earth after finding out he only had a short while to live, less than a week. in that time he shone with gratitude and a deep inner peace, the way i imagine some people close to death might be. but as time passed, and he was still alive, he began to grow bitter and confused, just spending the days waiting to die, pissed off that he hadn't. and if he was planning on accomplishing anything in his final days, it was to convince his foreigner roommate he secretly could be a psychopath waiting for the perfect time to commit his strange crime that had everything to do with her.
because of this, i started to ignore him, which was easy, considering he stopped paying me any attention long before i had made up this decision, or this story. he and i were sharing a joint bathroom with a door that didn't lock. i set up secret traps to see if he was coming in my room when i wasn't there. i strung dental floss across the doorway in 3 places and shut the door. if i came home and any of my trap looked messed up or suspicious, i would have to confront the issue.
the floss never moved.
i didn't want him using my soap either, but continuously forgot it after bathing. when i'd remember the next morning i'd check it closely for dark curly hairs.
sofie was a little more proactive and practical. she used her medical expertise and some spare time and diagnosed him.
"oh he's harmless." she said, after i hinted at my suspicions. "he's just depressed."
"but you don't think he's dying of something terminal?" i said.
"no there is nothing the matter with him physically!" she said, a bit annoyed with his situation.
"then why is sakola doing everything for him?" that last saturday i was planning to go to town with sakola, and just as we were about to leave, seth walked into the kitchen and told us he wanted soup. sakola canceled our plans to spend hours making soup, then delivered it to his room, where it sat untouched until nighttime getting cold.
"because he's lazy." sofie said.
i still didn't believe her. something HAD to be the matter with him. he didn't eat, hardly slept, and spent long hours squatting in dark corners. it worried me. countless times i assumed i was alone, whether sitting on the porch looking at the stars, or in the living room stretching in the dark. eventually i'd hear a little cough. each time i wondered why he hadn't greeted me, and then i'd ask, a bit annoyed.
"oh i didn't see you there." he say.
i told sofie. "he said he doesn't see me there! how can he not, i'm less than 10 feet away from him! it's creeping me out!"
she thought about it and replied "maybe he doesn't see you there? severe depression can make you incredibly self-obsessed."
"but i called out in the dark asking if anyone was home. there is no way, he had to have seen me."
"yeah. huh?" she said. a few seconds later... "what was auntie screaming about last night?"
"she was mad at sakola because nanakwame left the gate open and the chicken got out and now it's gone. but i don't know why she was yelling at him."
"oh no." she said. "it was probably me. i leave the gate open all the time."
"we all do, nobody has ever told us to close it. and any way, i don't know why she cares, sakola was the one who bought the chicken."
later that night, sofie and i decided to go into town and get a drink. sakola came with us also, but ordered a coca cola classic. christians don't drink beer, he said.
it was about 8:30 when we all started to get tired. "let's go home" we decided.
when we reached our front door and pushed on it to get in, it was locked. sakola sighed, deep.
i pushed on the door again.
still locked.
"auntie." he said, shaking his head.
we peered through the window and saw the glow of a lantern. i was sure she was in there.
"call her to open the door for us." i said.
sakola called auntie's name a few times, but no response.
i was incredulous. she knew we were standing outside, waiting to come in. we could hear her breathing, raspy and hoarse.
"AUNTIE!" i yelled, loudly. "AUNTIE, we're hoooommmme!!!"
still nothing, so i kept at it. "AUNTIE!!! AUNTIE!!!"
then she interrupted me in twi, more upset than i had ever heard her.
sakola was sitting, listening to her rant, shaking his head between his legs. then she said in english "you can go find somewhere else to sleep. quit disturbing!"
i looked at sofie and then at sakola. was she serious? she wouldn't open the door for us? it wasn't yet 9 p.m., a seemingly acceptable time to come home before this night, and she was awake.
she was still going on in twi. "what is she saying?" sofie asked.
"she's saying she won't open the door for us, we have to go into town and find somewhere to sleep. collin's mother's house or something?"
i couldn't hold back. "auntie- this is our house. let us in! we pay rent here, we aren't going into town to sleep!" i hollered. i felt very american basing the argument off the fact that i paid to live there, but it was true.
sakola walked over to the window and took 5 minutes to convince her to open the door for us. she was reluctant and came out to the porch to finish us off with some more yelling. she was dressed in a blue pilots uniform, which only added to her absurdity.
"who is the one who speaks twi?" she asked sofie.
"i don't speak twi!" she replied.
so auntie came over to me and told me 9 was too late, she doesn't run a hostel, and we were causing her problems.
i didn't want to argue so i just listened and finished it by saying "yooooo" which means, okay. then she turned and went into the house.
i stayed outside for a lot longer, fearing her presence.
"you and sofie, when you go" sakola said "i'm moving. i won't stay here. in may, i'm moving."
"i completely understand." i said.
i looked at him and admired him in some ways; mostly for the graceful way he put up with auntie on a daily basis and for how he continuously helped seth out despite the circumstances. i vowed to learn a lesson from this, although i wasn't quite sure what exactly that would be.
i took a moment to reflect on sakola's moods, which had seemed to be either hot or cold since sofie arrived, but i knew where they were stemming from.
"well sakola has been a bit moody, but there is a lot going on in his life right now. i think it's affecting him."
"like what?" she asked.
"auntie, mostly, and a few other added pressures."
"what's aunties problem?"
in the past few weeks it seemed she had a bundle load. each night we came home to her walking in little circles, mumbling her worries and complaints out to the universe. then the moment she spied sakola she'd reel him in with her sticky tentacles and chew him out for hours regarding things made up or having nothing to do with him.
"what has sakola done to auntie? she's quite difficult isn't she?"
i wasn't sure if auntie wanted any of us around. her son was supposed to be staying for a few days, and his visit was lasting weeks. the first few days he arrived went great. we spent the long dark hours of the night sitting around the dining room table while he inspired me with long monologues of living life as a walking tabernacle of acceptance and love. he spoke of an earth permeated with the love of god, agape love, unconditional and unchanging. then he talked of inviting that love to live in oneself, to fill up on it and essentially overflow with it. "are you following me?" he'd continuously ask. i'd just nod, waiting to hear more.
i really loved those late night chats, and my heart began to open up to him and feel glad we were sharing a living space.
but as the days grew on, seth became more and more antisocial. to deal with his strange behavior i was forced to make believe elaborate stories. i settled on this rough version:
him coming to visit his mother for his last few days on earth after finding out he only had a short while to live, less than a week. in that time he shone with gratitude and a deep inner peace, the way i imagine some people close to death might be. but as time passed, and he was still alive, he began to grow bitter and confused, just spending the days waiting to die, pissed off that he hadn't. and if he was planning on accomplishing anything in his final days, it was to convince his foreigner roommate he secretly could be a psychopath waiting for the perfect time to commit his strange crime that had everything to do with her.
because of this, i started to ignore him, which was easy, considering he stopped paying me any attention long before i had made up this decision, or this story. he and i were sharing a joint bathroom with a door that didn't lock. i set up secret traps to see if he was coming in my room when i wasn't there. i strung dental floss across the doorway in 3 places and shut the door. if i came home and any of my trap looked messed up or suspicious, i would have to confront the issue.
the floss never moved.
i didn't want him using my soap either, but continuously forgot it after bathing. when i'd remember the next morning i'd check it closely for dark curly hairs.
sofie was a little more proactive and practical. she used her medical expertise and some spare time and diagnosed him.
"oh he's harmless." she said, after i hinted at my suspicions. "he's just depressed."
"but you don't think he's dying of something terminal?" i said.
"no there is nothing the matter with him physically!" she said, a bit annoyed with his situation.
"then why is sakola doing everything for him?" that last saturday i was planning to go to town with sakola, and just as we were about to leave, seth walked into the kitchen and told us he wanted soup. sakola canceled our plans to spend hours making soup, then delivered it to his room, where it sat untouched until nighttime getting cold.
"because he's lazy." sofie said.
i still didn't believe her. something HAD to be the matter with him. he didn't eat, hardly slept, and spent long hours squatting in dark corners. it worried me. countless times i assumed i was alone, whether sitting on the porch looking at the stars, or in the living room stretching in the dark. eventually i'd hear a little cough. each time i wondered why he hadn't greeted me, and then i'd ask, a bit annoyed.
"oh i didn't see you there." he say.
i told sofie. "he said he doesn't see me there! how can he not, i'm less than 10 feet away from him! it's creeping me out!"
she thought about it and replied "maybe he doesn't see you there? severe depression can make you incredibly self-obsessed."
"but i called out in the dark asking if anyone was home. there is no way, he had to have seen me."
"yeah. huh?" she said. a few seconds later... "what was auntie screaming about last night?"
"she was mad at sakola because nanakwame left the gate open and the chicken got out and now it's gone. but i don't know why she was yelling at him."
"oh no." she said. "it was probably me. i leave the gate open all the time."
"we all do, nobody has ever told us to close it. and any way, i don't know why she cares, sakola was the one who bought the chicken."
later that night, sofie and i decided to go into town and get a drink. sakola came with us also, but ordered a coca cola classic. christians don't drink beer, he said.
it was about 8:30 when we all started to get tired. "let's go home" we decided.
when we reached our front door and pushed on it to get in, it was locked. sakola sighed, deep.
i pushed on the door again.
still locked.
"auntie." he said, shaking his head.
we peered through the window and saw the glow of a lantern. i was sure she was in there.
"call her to open the door for us." i said.
sakola called auntie's name a few times, but no response.
i was incredulous. she knew we were standing outside, waiting to come in. we could hear her breathing, raspy and hoarse.
"AUNTIE!" i yelled, loudly. "AUNTIE, we're hoooommmme!!!"
still nothing, so i kept at it. "AUNTIE!!! AUNTIE!!!"
then she interrupted me in twi, more upset than i had ever heard her.
sakola was sitting, listening to her rant, shaking his head between his legs. then she said in english "you can go find somewhere else to sleep. quit disturbing!"
i looked at sofie and then at sakola. was she serious? she wouldn't open the door for us? it wasn't yet 9 p.m., a seemingly acceptable time to come home before this night, and she was awake.
she was still going on in twi. "what is she saying?" sofie asked.
"she's saying she won't open the door for us, we have to go into town and find somewhere to sleep. collin's mother's house or something?"
i couldn't hold back. "auntie- this is our house. let us in! we pay rent here, we aren't going into town to sleep!" i hollered. i felt very american basing the argument off the fact that i paid to live there, but it was true.
sakola walked over to the window and took 5 minutes to convince her to open the door for us. she was reluctant and came out to the porch to finish us off with some more yelling. she was dressed in a blue pilots uniform, which only added to her absurdity.
"who is the one who speaks twi?" she asked sofie.
"i don't speak twi!" she replied.
so auntie came over to me and told me 9 was too late, she doesn't run a hostel, and we were causing her problems.
i didn't want to argue so i just listened and finished it by saying "yooooo" which means, okay. then she turned and went into the house.
i stayed outside for a lot longer, fearing her presence.
"you and sofie, when you go" sakola said "i'm moving. i won't stay here. in may, i'm moving."
"i completely understand." i said.
i looked at him and admired him in some ways; mostly for the graceful way he put up with auntie on a daily basis and for how he continuously helped seth out despite the circumstances. i vowed to learn a lesson from this, although i wasn't quite sure what exactly that would be.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
John Chapter 8
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.
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.
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.
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