by Janu,Tamsin
I shook my head. I was happy to see Kofi, but was tired of his chatting. ‘How will we find Nana?’
Kofi’s face fell, and he rubbed his beard. ‘You are becoming too old for my distractions.’
‘I’m eleven now.’
Kofi sighed. ‘You are.’ He took a sip of water then folded his hands in front of him on the table. ‘Your grandma says Nana used to live in the village of Duma, near Lake Volta. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. He moved there after his mama died. It is next to a big forest – Nana used to go there to look for monkeys.’
Kofi nodded. ‘We will travel that way first, although I am yet to find Duma’s exact location. Small Ghanaian villages like Duma are often forgotten by those who make our maps.’
I thought about this for a few seconds. Then I had an idea. ‘We can ask Ken!’
Kofi grinned. Ken is a funny name in Ghana. ‘Who is Ken?’
‘Me and Nana met him a couple of years ago. He is an Obruni, from a country called Australia, but he has a monkey sanctuary in the Volta Region. His sanctuary is for tourists from all over The World, so he might have maps.’
Kofi asked the hotel receptionist if we could use her computer to search for Ken’s sanctuary. Her face said she wanted to refuse. But after Kofi had given her a long explanation about Nana and his papa she let him do what he wanted. Kofi is handsome and smart, so it is hard to refuse him anything. The woman spent the whole time we were using the computer chewing her fingernails, with her eyes on the door. She said she was frightened her boss would come in and see us.
I had never used a computer before. I was very excited. I sat on Kofi’s lap and he guided my fingers so that I pressed the right buttons.
It wasn’t long before we found Ken. I squealed when I saw his picture. He looked the same as when I had met him two years ago. Long yellow hair, coloured tattoos on his arms, a white face and red cheeks.
Kofi laughed. ‘This is your Obruni friend?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He is a good man.’ When Kofi raised his eyebrows I glared at him. ‘You shouldn’t judge someone by how they look, Kofi.’
Grandma Ama taught me that.
Kofi’s expression switched to serious. ‘Right you are.’
After Kofi had written down the sanctuary’s address we returned to our room. Kofi was reading under an electric lamp. He told me to sleep, but I couldn’t. Whenever I closed my eyes all I could think of was Nana, and where he might be, and what he might be doing.
‘Kofi?’
‘Yes?’ Kofi looked up from his book.
‘Will we find Nana?’
‘I hope so. We will do our best.’
I was silent for a while. Then I said, ‘Have you heard that Nana will be the President of Ghana?’
Kofi looked up again, smiling. ‘Yes, he told me in his last letter. And he said you want to be an actress?’
It had been fun to play a character in the movie. But I didn’t know whether I truly wanted to be an actress. There might be more important and useful things that I could do.
‘I’m not sure any more,’ I said. ‘Kofi?’
‘Yes, Figgy?’
‘Do you think I can wait a bit longer until I decide on my career?’
Kofi put down his book and hopped off his bed, coming over to sit on mine. ‘I think that is a sensible idea,’ he said. ‘Not everyone is as sure of where they are going at your age as our Nana.’
I nodded. ‘He is very special.’
‘And so are you.’ Kofi kissed my forehead and returned to his bed.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time after Kofi turned off his light.
CHAPTER 11
THE SEARCH FOR NANA
We travelled to the monkey sanctuary in a small blue car that Kofi had borrowed from a businessman friend. It was fun to watch Kofi drive. And I liked fiddling with the radio and sticking my head out of the window.
Kofi had trouble finding the sanctuary, mostly because the street signs and locals kept giving him incorrect directions. We arrived, finally, in the late afternoon, pulling into a driveway that stretched in front of a group of wooden cabins. I yanked open the car door and stumbled out, desperate to stretch my legs. The place was quiet except for the calls of birds in the surrounding forest.
A young woman emerged from behind one of the cabins, her head lowered. Her hair was wrapped in a colourful turban, and she was very slender.
The woman gestured, her eyes still on the ground, that we should follow her. She led us to a cabin with a wonky ‘Welcome!’ sign on the door, and knocked three times.
There was a crash from inside the cabin, followed by a loud swear word (Kofi shook his head at that). Then the door flew open.
Ken looked the same as I remembered. His big arms, covered in tattoos, stuck out of his sleeveless shirt, his yellow hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore big, sturdy boots. He looked at me, his brow creased. Then he clapped his hands so suddenly and loudly that I jumped. Kofi did too.
‘It’s little Figgy!’ he said, coming over and shaking my hand. He shook it so enthusiastically that my body shook along with it. ‘I have never forgotten you and your friend! Did you get to America?’
Ken let go of my hand. ‘No,’ I said, ‘but we did find medicine for my Grandma Ama, so she is much better now.’
‘Good, good!’ he said, pushing us both into the cabin. ‘Where’s Nana? He was a fantastic little guy.’
I was too sad to tell Ken about Nana’s bad papa, and how he had taken Nana away. I wanted Kofi to explain. So I squeezed Kofi’s hand and went to sit on the rug in the corner of the room. It was then I saw that the young woman with the turban was staring at me. I had met her before.
It was Chicken. She had lived at Nana’s old orphanage, the one we visited a couple of years ago. She came over and sat cross-legged in front of me. I was going to reach out to hug her, but then remembered that Chicken does not like to be touched. Nana told me her life had been very hard and sad.
‘I am glad to see you, Figgy,’ Chicken said. She spoke in English because she knows I cannot speak Ewe, her native dialect.
‘I am glad to see you too,’ I said. ‘Why are you here?’
Chicken fiddled with the tassel on the edge of the rug. ‘Mr Ken takes his tourists to the orphanage, for visits. Every time he came I begged him to give me a job. I knew I would be useful to him, because of my good English. And the Guardians at the orphanage kept threatening to throw me out. They said I was becoming too old to stay there. So I needed somewhere to go. When I turned fifteen, Mr Ken said I could work for him.’
It would have been terrible if the Guardians had thrown Chicken out on to the street. I looked over at Ken, who was speaking to Kofi very loudly while pulling things out of an overflowing cabinet. He was a good man.
‘Are you happy?’ I said.
Chicken shrugged. ‘I am glad to have left the orphanage, and Mr Ken is good to me. He gives me plenty of food, a comfortable bed, and he is teaching me to keep his records in good order.’
‘But are you happy?’ I repeated.
Chicken looked up from her hands, and at me. ‘I try hard to be happy.’
She stood and quietly left the cabin.
Ken’s maps were spread over a big, wooden table. I fell asleep while Kofi and Ken pored over them, trying to find Duma, and woke in a small bed to the sound of pots and pans crashing together outside. I got quite a shock, and was relieved when I saw that Kofi was sitting on the bed beside me.
‘Ah,’ Kofi said, seeing that I was awake, ‘our dinner must be ready. That Obruni is a crazy man.’
Dinner was crazy too, mostly because monkeys kept creeping up to snatch food from our plates. Chicken ran after them with a broom when they came too close, but they often sneaked past her. And Ken tripped when he was serving us dessert, and all the fruit fell in the dirt. Ken was sweating by the end of dinner, his face even redder than usual, and he apologised to Kofi over and over again.
Kofi j
ust shrugged and grinned at me. He doesn’t notice that people find him intimidating.
The next morning we left the sanctuary with confidence. With the help of Ken’s maps, Kofi was sure he could get to Duma. It was there we would find Nana. And we would bring him home with us.
Duma was smaller than my village and much quieter. In my village there are always people running this way and that with things to sell balanced in buckets or bowls on their heads, taxis and tro tros zooming around and children playing in the street. In Duma there was less activity and the people sitting on the side of the road glared at us, as if angry we were there. Nana’s papa may not have been the only reason Nana ran away from home. His village did not seem to be a friendly place.
‘This village is scary,’ I said.
Kofi nodded. ‘Do not leave my side while we are here.’
I clasped Kofi’s hand as we walked up to a small house with a tidy garden. Kofi knocked, and a young woman opened the door. Kofi spoke in Ewe, so I could not fully understand him, but he must have been asking the woman about Nana and his papa since I heard their names. While he was still speaking the woman slammed the door in his face.
‘That was rude,’ I said, offended on Kofi’s behalf. ‘Grandma Ama would say –’
Kofi placed his hand over my mouth and led me away from the house. ‘Be careful with your words,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to make enemies here.’
I whispered that I was sorry. Kofi kissed my hand then held it tightly as we walked to the next house. And the next. And the next. Most people seemed too suspicious and scared to tell us anything. It was frustrating. I just wanted to find Nana. And to get away from the strange village.
Since we had had no luck with his choices, Kofi let me pick the next house. I chose a hut that was coated in bright pink paint and had an uneven metal roof. A naked baby sat outside in the mud, crying. I ran over to pick her up. She made my new tunic dirty.
Kofi knocked and a large woman opened the door. As soon as she saw the baby she snatched her away from me. And she said something harsh to Kofi in Ewe.
I heard Kofi mention Nana’s papa. In a flash a man came out of a doorway behind the woman and hit Kofi on the head with a metal pot. Kofi fell to the ground. The man took Kofi’s legs, the woman pulled on my tunic, and we were dragged into the house. I screamed as the door was slammed behind us.
CHAPTER 12
THEY DON’T KNOW
We were pulled into a dirty living room. The man and woman were shrieking at each other in Ewe. The baby was crying again. And when I looked at Kofi, lying still on the ground with drops of blood above his ear, I began to cry as well.
The woman turned and spoke to me in Ewe.
I backed into a corner and shielded my face with my arms, preparing for the man to hit me with the pot he still held in his hand.
‘I don’t understand you!’ I said, tears running from my eye. ‘Please don’t hit me!’
‘We will not hit you,’ the woman said, in English this time. ‘Nana’s papa is a horrible man. My husband was scared. And he is stupid.’
Her husband growled, slammed the pot on the ground and stomped out of the room. The woman held out a hand to me. I wound my arms around my tummy and pressed my back against the wall.
‘Don’t be silly,’ the woman said. ‘The tall man has just been knocked a bit. He will be better soon.’
I refused to give her my hand. I would not let this bad woman help me. She eventually sighed, dropped her hand and walked away. She took a wet cloth from a bucket nearby and sat next to Kofi, gently wiping the blood from the side of his face. Poor Kofi.
The woman yelled loudly in Ewe, then shook her head. ‘I told my husband to hurry up and find a bandage for this tall man’s wound. I should not have married such a stupid man.’ She looked up at me. ‘Who are you? How do you know Nana and his papa?’
I twisted my hands in front of me, hoping that Kofi would wake up soon so he could do the talking. ‘Nana is my best friend, and he lives with me and my Grandma Ama. But his papa stole him from us, so me and my friend Kofi’ – I pointed to Kofi on the floor – ‘have come to get him back.’
The woman dropped the cloth and scratched the back of her neck. It was covered in a lumpy rash. ‘Nana’s papa has caused much trouble in this village.’ The woman’s husband came into the room holding a strip of material. She snatched it from him and wound it around Kofi’s head. ‘He has stolen from all of us. One morning our neighbour woke to find six of her goats were missing. She is sure Nana’s papa took them and sold them at the market.’
The woman tied a knot in Kofi’s bandage and tucked in the loose ends. ‘And he stole our daughter, two years ago. We do not have much money, and he said he would find her work. But we haven’t seen her since.’ The woman wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘Nana’s papa will want to make money out of Nana. He will make him work. He will never give Nana back to you.’
Kofi groaned softly and I crouched on the floor next to him, placing my hand on his cheek. He jolted into a sitting position. Then, raising his hand to his head and groaning, he lay down again.
‘Figgy.’ Kofi took my arm, and held it tight. ‘Where is the crazy man who hit me?’
‘It was an accident,’ the woman said. ‘I was explaining to – Figgy?’ The woman raised her eyebrows at me and I nodded. ‘What a ridiculous name. I refuse to say it. Well, I was explaining to – this girl – that Nana is lost forever. His papa wanted to make money and leave the country. I pray that he sticks by his word and never returns to this village.’
Kofi sat up, slowly this time. He spoke to the woman in Ewe while he unwound the strip of material from around his head. I was glad to see that his head had stopped bleeding. Kofi’s voice grew harsh and loud. I had never heard him speak like that.
It was not long before Kofi took my hand and pulled me to my feet. The woman’s face was scrunched up and her hands were in fists. Her husband was sitting silently nearby.
‘Stop crying, girl,’ the woman said to me in English, as Kofi led me past her towards the door. ‘We have all lost people we love.’
Kofi turned to the woman, gripping my hand so hard it hurt. ‘That is true,’ he said. ‘But loss sometimes brings compassion. It has made you bitter.’
We stepped outside. ‘Good day,’ Kofi said, and he closed the door behind us.
I was surprised when Kofi didn’t lead me to the next house on the street but to the car instead. I was happy to leave the awful little village. But I did feel a stab in my chest that we were leaving it without Nana. And the woman had said such horrible things, like that we would never find him. Where would we go next? I didn’t dare ask Kofi. His eyes were watery and his jaw was clenched. And when I asked if his head felt okay he said ‘Yes’ in a way that told me he didn’t feel like talking.
It was late in the afternoon when Kofi shook me awake. We were parked next to a tro tro station. Kofi opened my door and gently pulled me out of the car. He had my bag in his hand.
He weaved through the people selling nuts, water and bananas. I had to run to keep up with him.
‘Where are we going?’ I said.
He didn’t answer.
We stopped in front of a bright yellow tro tro. It was full of people and its engine was running. The driver was ready to leave.
Kofi bent down and patted me on the cheek. ‘You are going home,’ he said. He took my hand to lead me up the stairs of the tro tro. But I yanked it away and crossed my arms.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not going home without Nana.’
Kofi sighed. ‘You have to. That woman in Duma was rude but truthful; she said Nana has no family here, and that his papa declared he was leaving the village forever. It was foolish of your Grandma Ama and me to think Nana’s papa would return to Duma.’
‘But we have to find him!’
Kofi gripped my shoulders. ‘We are not giving up on Nana,’ he said. ‘I will continue to search, and I have contacts all over Ghana. We will find him,
but it might take time. And it could be dangerous.’
‘I don’t care. I will find him with you,’ I said.
‘You will not. You will go home to your family and you will attend school.’
‘Not without Nana.’
I knew I was being disrespectful, and that Grandma Ama would threaten to cane me if she heard that I had been so rude to Kofi. But he didn’t understand. I couldn’t go home without Nana.
Kofi looked at me for a long time. I didn’t want to look into his eyes, because then I would feel guilty about being disrespectful. So I looked at his earrings instead. Nana was once obsessed with having earrings because he wanted to be like Kofi. Grandma Ama wouldn’t let him get his ears pierced, so Nana took one of Grandma Ama’s sewing needles and told Kwesi to jam it into his ear. It didn’t make a hole you could put an earring through. But it did make Nana bleed all over his new shirt.
The tro tro driver tooted his horn and yelled something at us in Ewe. Kofi picked me up suddenly and sat me on one of the few spare seats in the tro tro. Then, after placing my bag on my lap and kissing my forehead, Kofi jumped off the tro tro and shut the door.
I covered my face with my hands and leaned against the window. I stayed silent for the entire trip. The woman next to me rubbed my back and kept offering me candy. I didn’t know what to do, or what to think. I had failed Nana.
It was dark when the tro tro pulled into my village station. So I was glad to see Kwaku and his battered taxi sitting by the side of the road. I jumped in the front seat and Kwaku asked me if his hair looked good. I said it did. And as the taxi pulled out on to the road I told Kwaku that I didn’t want to talk.
‘Why not?’ Kwaku said.
‘Because I’m upset.’ I curled up next to the window.
‘Don’t you want to talk about your movie?’
‘No, Kwaku.’
‘I want to talk about your movie.’
‘We can talk about it later.’
There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. ‘Then what will we talk about?’
I groaned, and regretted that I hadn’t walked home in the dark. Kwaku doesn’t understand that sometimes people don’t feel like talking. Osagyefo says it is because Kwaku has never not felt like talking in his life.