by Janu,Tamsin
Instead of arguing with Kwaku I ignored him and stared out of the window.
‘We could talk about my papa, Eddie. You know my papa? He is a good man. Or my girlfriend, who I met at the market yesterday. She is tall and wears nice clothes. Or how about the baby coming out of your mama? I hear that –’
‘What did you say?’ I said, whirling round to look at Kwaku. He turned his head to look at me too, and almost drove the taxi off the road and on to a field.
‘Look at the road, Kwaku!’ I said. ‘Mama had her baby?’
‘Not yet. But it is coming!’ Kwaku said.
I didn’t mind that he drove too fast the rest of the way home.
CHAPTER 13
A BABY
People from all over my village were packed into the courtyard we share with Adwoa. Grandma Ama hugged me before rushing back into Adwoa’s house, to Mama. She said The Doctor and the village women who help to deliver babies were inside too. I was glad The Doctor was not the only one getting the baby out. He is a terrible doctor, so I wouldn’t trust him to do it alone.
No one knew what was happening, and I was becoming more and more nervous. Esi tried to distract me by cartwheeling around the place. She kept kicking the people who were standing around, which l would usually have found funny. But at that moment it only made me sad – Nana had been teaching Esi to cartwheel before he left. I told her this and she sat on my lap instead, looping her arms around my neck.
Eventually The Doctor came to the door of Adwoa’s house. The crowd fell silent, and The Doctor’s face broke into a grin.
‘It’s a boy!’ he said.
The crowd cheered. A boy! I had a little brother!
‘How is the mother?’ someone yelled.
The Doctor’s face fell. ‘There were some complications during the birth. We must get her to a hospital.’
I pushed Esi off my lap and leaped to my feet. ‘What did you do to her?’
I knew The Doctor would do something wrong.
He couldn’t be trusted.
I ran up to him, my fists clenched. I raised my hands to punch his chest but Perpetua grabbed my arms and wrestled me to the floor. There was a scuffle, which most of the crowd became entangled in. I somehow managed to crawl through all the legs and arms and into the doorway of Adwoa’s house.
I ran to Mama’s room, dreading what I would see when I got there. Was she dead? I had just met my mama. She shouldn’t be allowed to die yet.
But when I reached the room Mama was awake, with my screaming little brother lying on her tummy. I made a face when I saw the blood and other mess around the room, and dodged the women who were trying to pull me back outside.
I patted the baby’s head. His skin was sticky, and a purple colour, and his face was very squashed. He looked quite ugly. But I didn’t tell Mama that. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
‘He is cute,’ I said.
Mama smiled and lay her head on her pillows. She was breathing heavily. I could hear Adwoa chanting prayers for Mama in the room next door. Grandma Ama took the baby from Mama and wiped him with a wet towel.
‘He is a beautiful baby, Figgy,’ Grandma Ama said. ‘He looks like you when you were little.’
I tried not to be offended. Surely I wasn’t so ugly! Maybe Grandma Ama was trying to make Mama feel better about her strange-looking baby, too.
‘The Doctor said that Mama has to go to the hospital,’ I said. ‘But if she does, won’t they put her in gaol?’
‘That is why The Doctor is calling Anum. He might help us.’
Anum is the policeman of our village. He is very, very old, much older than Grandma Ama. He doesn’t do much except sit at home and play card games with himself. Grandma Ama once told me that she wished Anum would hurry up and die so another policeman could come, one who would protect the people of our village. But then she felt guilty and said I was not to tell anyone what she had said. And she prayed all night for forgiveness for thinking such a terrible thing.
When Anum arrived he told me to stand up so he could sit in my chair, and yelled for Adwoa to get him water.
‘Figgy!’ he said. ‘I hear you are going to be in a movie?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Can I be in the movie too?’
It seemed like a strange thing for Anum to worry about when Mama was so sick. Anum did not seem to notice her, lying in the bed right next to him and breathing in loud gasps. Until Grandma Ama saved me from having to give Anum an answer and explained everything.
That Mama had done bad things, but she had changed her ways. That Anum needed to write a letter to the government promising that Mama was safe to the community and that she should not be put into gaol. If he did that, we would be able to take her to the hospital.
Anum shook his head. My heart sank.
‘Come on, now,’ Anum said, taking a big slurp from the cup of water in his hand. ‘That is not how policemen work. We have to follow procedures. She has to pay for her crimes.’
‘And she will,’ Grandma Ama said. ‘She will work at my school as a cleaner, and make enough money to pay for the necklace she stole. And she will help The Doctor to care for our village’s old and sick people. She will make up for her crimes by helping the village.’
‘And if she doesn’t go to the hospital, Mama will die,’ I said.
Anum rested a hand behind his head. ‘That may be,’ he said, ‘but I cannot let a criminal walk free.’
Grandma Ama marched across the room, her cane in hand, and stood in front of Anum. Because he was still sitting, she towered over him. Grandma Ama is a big woman, so if I had been in Anum’s chair I would have been frightened. But he looked up at her calmly.
‘You have known this family for many years,’ Grandma Ama said, her voice stern. When she speaks to me like that, I know I am in trouble. ‘You can do this for us.’
Anum sighed. ‘I will not help those in your family who have done bad things.’
‘I am not the only person whose family member has committed a crime.’ Grandma Ama thrust her hands on her hips. ‘The difference between us is that my daughter has admitted she acted wrongly.’
Anum’s grandson is fighting a war in another African country. He has killed many people. Anum never speaks of his grandson, but we all know about him and the bad things he has done.
Anum and Grandma Ama stared at each other for a long time.
Anum broke the silence by slamming down his cup of water. The water sloshed on to the table and across the floor. Adwoa ran to get a cloth to mop it up. ‘Hurry up, then!’ Anum said. ‘Bring me paper and a pencil.’
Everyone ran around, getting Mama and the new baby ready for hospital. Mama was still awake but didn’t seem to be able to talk. We carried her to the taxi, which was waiting outside, and Grandma Ama hobbled in after her, shaking her finger at me out of the window.
‘Be sensible, Figgy,’ she said.
I watched the taxi drive away, and barely had time to think about Grandma Ama’s comment before someone had grabbed my arm and pulled me off the street and away from the crowd of people. At first I was frightened, because it was dark and I could not see clearly. But when the person holding my arm turned round I saw that it was Jeffenick. He was breathing hard.
‘Figgy!’ he said. ‘I know where Nana is.’
CHAPTER 14
WITH THE HELP OF KWAKU
I gasped and looked around, expecting Nana to pop out from behind Jeffenick wearing a big grin. But Jeffenick put his hands on either side of my face so that I would look at him.
‘He is not here!’ he said. ‘We have to go and get him.’
Jeffenick pulled my arm again. But I pulled back. Last time I ran off Grandma Ama had been angry because I didn’t tell her where I was going. But I couldn’t tell her now, because she was going to the hospital. I would worry about Nana while she worried about Mama and my brother.
‘I have to write a note,’ I said.
I ran through the crowd and into our house
. Perpetua’s school bag was propped up against the living room wall. I scrambled through it, searching for a pencil and paper. I found them, of course. Perpetua never goes to school unprepared. Jeffenick had followed me into the house and was standing behind me, rubbing his hands on his dirty pants.
‘Where are we going?’ I said.
‘The beach we went to for your birthday. My friend’s brother works there. He told me Nana is working on a fishing boat.’
A boat? Why was he on a boat? I turned over the scrap of paper, wrote the note and folded it. Then I went out into the crowd again, found Esi, and dragged her away from everyone else.
‘You see this?’ I said, holding up the note. Esi nodded. ‘I want you to keep this safe.’
I tucked it into the front pocket of her tunic.
‘What does it say?’ Esi said.
I grabbed her hands so she wouldn’t pull the note out of her pocket. It wouldn’t matter if Esi saw the words – she can’t read. But Esi loses things all the time. I could imagine her dropping the note on the ground and people stepping on it and it never reaching Grandma Ama.
‘You must give it to Grandma Ama when you see her,’ I said. ‘Only to Grandma Ama.’
‘Not even to Perpetua?’ Esi said.
‘Especially not to Perpetua.’
Esi frowned, and bit her bottom lip. ‘I don’t know if I can keep it a secret from Perpetua. She is very bossy and finds out about everything.’
I shrugged, said that she was too young for the job and reached into her pocket. She jumped backwards, her hands clasped over the note.
‘I can do it!’ she said. ‘I am old enough!’
‘Are you sure? You can even keep it a secret from Perpetua?’
Esi nodded and said, ‘Of course I can!’ As if she had not been doubting she could only seconds before.
I looked at Jeffenick, whose eyes told me to hurry. I was anxious to leave too. So I gave Esi a hug and followed Jeffenick out of the gate and down the road. Esi yelled after us. Thankfully, she didn’t follow.
The tro tro station is scary at night; Grandma Ama says that after dark is when the bad people come out. Luckily we quickly found a tro tro that was travelling in the direction of the beach.
It was only after we had taken a seat that we realised we were the tro tro’s only passengers. And we waited. And waited, and waited. The driver was sitting in the driver’s seat up the front, singing loudly, with his feet propped up on the dashboard and hands drumming on his thighs.
Jeffenick jabbed my arm. ‘Figgy! Shouldn’t you tell him we’re in a hurry?’
When I’m with Nana, he usually does the talking. But between me and Jeffenick I was the leader. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to feel Nana’s boldness, before I marched to the front of the tro tro.
The driver was singing with his eyes closed.
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
He didn’t hear me, so I spoke louder. Still unsuccessful, I tapped him on the shoulder instead. He jumped so dramatically that I leaped backwards and almost fell down the stairs of the tro tro.
The man clutched his chest and grinned. ‘It’s only you, little girl! You gave me quite a fright.’
‘I am sorry, sir. My friend and I would like to get moving.’
The driver shrugged. ‘I can’t leave now. I need more passengers. Otherwise it would be a waste of my time and money.’
‘But there is no one else here!’ I said. ‘We could be waiting until morning!’
‘We could be. That’s why you should lie down and have a sleep. I’m going to do just that.’
The driver stretched his legs out, covered his face with an old rag and fell silent.
It was clear that Jeffenick and I might be waiting for many hours before the driver left the station. It was too far to walk to the beach, but waiting until morning for the tro tro to move was impossible. So we hopped off the tro tro. I don’t think the driver even knew that we had left.
It was then that I saw Kwaku’s battered taxi. Kwaku had just dropped a passenger off at the station.
I ran after the taxi and pounded on its rear window, yelling for Kwaku to stop. His face twisted in confusion as he leaned over to open the door.
‘Do you need me to take you home again?’ he said.
‘No, Kwaku –’
‘Because I was planning to go home to eat some dinner and go to bed, and –’
‘Kwaku, be quiet!’ Kwaku stopped talking and shrank back in his seat. He doesn’t like being yelled at. People yell and laugh at him every day in my village, because of his funny brain. ‘I’m sorry, Kwaku,’ I said, more quietly. ‘But we need you to help us.’
Kwaku was still leaning away from me, his eyes narrowed and untrusting. ‘Help you with what?’
‘Nana was stolen from us, and Jeffenick knows where he is.’ Jeffenick was hiding behind me, clutching the back of my tunic. I pulled his arm so that Kwaku could see him properly. Now was not the time to be shy. ‘Please drive us to the beach so that we can save him.’
Kwaku didn’t think for a second before nodding. I knew he would help us – he is a good man. I hopped into the front seat and Jeffenick hopped in the back.
But before the taxi moved, Kwaku looked at me again. ‘You’re not going to yell at me any more, are you, Figgy?’
‘I’m not. I never will again.’
And we began our long journey to the beach.
Neither Jeffenick nor I spoke for the entire trip. Kwaku filled the silence. He told a long story about the kitten he found on the road a few days ago. He had driven around with the kitten all day, trying to find its owner.
I wasn’t listening closely. I was too worried about finding Nana. And I was worried about my mama. She would be at our local hospital by now, but she was very sick. We didn’t have enough money to take her to a fancy hospital like the ones in Accra. What if, once I found Nana, I got home and Mama was dead? The new baby and Grandma Ama and I wanted Mama in our lives.
To distract myself from worrying, I thought about Kwaku’s kitten. I hoped Kwaku had found it a nice place to stay where it would get enough food and water. Perhaps my career could involve caring for baby animals, like that kitten. I am good at caring for animals. Before my goat Kwame died everyone always said how plump and well he looked.
I was thinking about this new career choice so deeply that once we arrived at the beach Jeffenick had to open my door and pull me from the taxi.
I was expecting Kwaku to drive away. But he got out too, slammed his door and walked over to us.
‘What are you doing?’ I said.
‘I’m coming to help you. To find Nana.’
I tried to catch Jeffenick’s eye, to see if he agreed with me that it wasn’t a good idea to let Kwaku come along. But Jeffenick was staring at the ground.
I sighed. ‘You need to go home, Kwaku. What we are doing is important, and maybe dangerous, and we don’t want you to get hurt.’
I was also worried about the fact Kwaku doesn’t seem to understand what it means to be quiet.
But I didn’t tell him that.
Kwaku ran a hand through his hair, messing up his hairstyle. ‘You don’t want me to come, do you?’ he said. ‘Why?’
Kwaku was becoming upset. When he gets upset it can be difficult to explain things to him. ‘It’s not that we don’t want you –’
‘You don’t!’ Kwaku whacked his fist on the bonnet of his taxi, and Jeffenick squeaked in alarm. ‘You think I’m too stupid to help you! You said you weren’t going to be mean to me any more, Figgy!’
Tears were running down Kwaku’s face, and he was yanking at his hair so roughly that he pulled out a few tufts. I couldn’t let him keep doing that – he would be very sad if he pulled out all of his hair. He once told me that his hair is his favourite thing about himself.
So I said he could come. Kwaku stopped crying so quickly that I wondered if he was pretending to be upset so he could get what he wanted. Osagyefo says that Kwaku is smarter an
d sneakier than people think.
Jeffenick, Kwaku and I tiptoed through the dark, occasionally yelping when we stepped on a rock or a spiky plant. When we reached the sand we sat next to each other, facing the shore, with our legs stretched out in front of us. Jeffenick said we would have to wait until dawn for the fishermen to come. Kwaku fell asleep almost immediately. I had never heard anyone snore so loudly.
A fair distance away, lined up along the shore and glowing in the moonlight, were big, empty fishing boats. They were wooden and curved, the shape of a banana. Slim wooden seats were spaced along the length of the boats and big oars were scattered on the sand in front of them. It was difficult to see in the dark, but the boats seemed to be all different colours, some with big letters painted on their sides and flags attached to a pole at one end. I wondered which boat was Nana’s. I hoped it was a colourful one.
‘Why would Nana be working on a boat?’ I asked Jeffenick. ‘Do you think his papa is making him work? Nana escaped his papa before, when he was younger. He could do it again.’
I was confused why Nana had not sent a message to us, to let us know where he was. The beach was not so far from our house.
Jeffenick folded his arms. ‘Maybe his papa sold him to the fishermen. Some of the kids who work on boats have been sold. It makes it hard for them to escape.’
Nana might be owned by someone? It was hard to believe. Nana often called himself an ‘independent man.’ It made Grandma Ama laugh so much that once she got short of breath and had to sit down and drink some water.
My eye was stinging, thinking about Nana being lost and alone and forced to work. But I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to be strong, like him.
After a moment of silence, Jeffenick spoke again. The dark shadows on his face made him look a bit creepy. ‘How is the new baby?’
‘He is okay, I think. But Jeffenick?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is it wrong to say a baby is ugly? Because this one really is. He is all squashed and wrinkly.’