by Kwei Quartey
24
Mosquito showed Dawson his base on Knutsford Avenue. By day, the stores were open and the street was bustling with traffic and pedestrians. It was hard to imagine that at night the area would become one big open bedroom for hundreds of homeless youth.
After leaving Patience and Mosquito, Dawson called Chikata to let him know what had happened and that he wanted them both to visit Issa’s base that night.
“I’ll make sure we have a driver,” Chikata said.
Meanwhile, Dawson owed his brother a visit and thought this was a good time to get one in. For years as a paraplegic, Cairo had lived with their father, Jacob, who had taken care of him. Now Cairo was married to Audrey, a gem of a woman who loved him dearly. Together they owned a craft shop in Osu just off the bustling tourist trap Oxford Street. Cairo had started off small, selling his handmade traditional masks from home. He still made masks himself, but now he had to contract out to keep up with demand. He had done well for himself. Above all, Dawson was glad Cairo no longer lived with Papa. It meant being able to visit his brother without having to deal with the father Dawson felt so uncomfortable around. Papa had never shown any affection to him when he was a child, let alone now that he was an adult. What Dawson did remember were beatings and harsh words.
Cairo would probably be at work for another hour or so. Dawson turned off Oxford onto Third Kuku Crest, where he found a parking spot near the shop with the bright green canopy bearing its name, Ultimate Craft.
With outside temperatures past the century mark, the air-conditioned interior of the shop felt like paradise. Dawson loved the fresh smell of carved wood, new pottery, and crisply folded fabrics. Georgina, Cairo’s assistant, was at the counter helping a customer. She greeted Dawson with a smile and told him Cairo was in his office.
He went through to the back, poked his head in the open door, and found his brother at his desk rapidly punching numbers into a calculator. Over the years Cairo had put on weight. His face was rounder, but he was still handsome, sporting a goatee that looked good on him.
“Counting your millions?” Dawson said.
Cairo looked up and laughed. “I wish it was so. Come in, you rascal.”
They hugged each other. Dawson pulled up a chair. “How are things?”
“Could be better. Tourism is down. It’s killing us.”
Dawson nodded. “I can imagine. Where’s Audrey?”
“She went to Tema to take care of some imports. How are you doing?”
“I’m all right.”
“Oh, I’m glad you dropped by. I want to show you something new. Let’s go to the front.”
Cairo effortlessly swiveled his ultralight wheelchair and wheeled himself out ahead of Dawson.
“Take a look at this,” Cairo said, handing Dawson a small attractive box.
“Wisdom cookies,” Dawson read off the top. “What’s that?”
“Our own twist on fortune cookies. Instead of something that predicts what’s going to happen to you, these contain Ghanaian proverbs imparting wisdom.”
“That’s a clever idea. Who came up with it?”
“My brilliant wife. Try one.”
The cookies were flat but bowed in shape. Dawson snapped one open and read the strip of paper on the inside. Sankofa: It is not taboo to go back and fetch what you forgot. The classic proverb.
Dawson popped the cookie in his mouth. It was crisp and crunchy. “Mm, delicious. Selling well?”
“Like beer at a bar. Perfect gifts for the tourists. Along with Ghanaian chocolate, of course.”
“I’ll take a box of the cookies home. Where do you get the proverbs from, by the way?”
“Right here,” Cairo said, wheeling over to the small selection of books. He took one down called Three Thousand Six Hundred Ghanaian Proverbs.
“Three thousand six hundred?” Dawson said in surprise as he leafed through. “Are there even that many in English?”
“That’s what I wondered myself,” Cairo said, with a chuckle.
After sending Georgina home, Cairo closed the shop. He and Dawson sat talking for almost an hour about family and politics. Dawson had never seen his brother happier.
When it was time to go, he offered Cairo a lift home, which was little more than a mile away. On the way there, Cairo phoned Audrey to let her know that she needn’t pick him up from the shop.
Dawson unloaded the wheelchair and brought it around to the passenger side. Cairo expertly transferred himself out of the car.
“Take care,” Dawson said.
“You too. My love to Christine and Hosiah.”
Smiling, Dawson watched his brother roll away to his front door with impressive speed.
Christine was in the kitchen making dinner when Dawson got home. He presented her with his gift from the shop.
“Wisdom cookies!” she exclaimed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“My thought exactly,” Dawson said, peering into the pot of simmering stew. “Mm, smells fantastic. Where’s Hosiah?”
“Sulking in his room.”
“Sulking? About what?”
“He announced today that he wanted pizza. I told him it’s too salty.”
Dawson frowned. “Pizza? Where has he been eating pizza?”
Christine hesitated. “Um …”
“Um, what?” He looked at her quizzically. “Oh, wait a minute. I bet you I know what’s going on.”
“Darko …”
But he was already out of the kitchen on the way to Hosiah’s bedroom. The boy was lying in bed with his face pressed into his pillow. Dawson sat next to him and shook him gently.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
Hosiah whined.
“That’s not an answer. Get your head out of the pillow, turn over, and talk to me.”
Hosiah did as he was told, pouting.
“What’s the matter?” Dawson asked.
“I want pizza.” He pronounced it pee-za.
“What did Mammy tell you about pizza?”
“It has too much salt.”
“Right. And what does salt do to you?”
“Makes my heart sick.”
“Correct. You want to go to the hospital again?”
“No,” Hosiah said miserably. “But …”
“But what?”
Hosiah stammered out an incoherent sentence with incomprehensible reasoning.
“Have you been eating pizza somewhere?” Dawson asked.
Hosiah was evasive. “I had some once.”
“What do you mean you had some ‘once’? Where and when?”
“At Frankie’s at the Accra Mall.”
“Granny took you there?”
Hosiah nodded.
“Aha,” Dawson said triumphantly.
Back in the kitchen, he stood in the doorway with folded arms. “Good try, Christine.”
She was practically squirming. “Sorry, Dark.”
“Okay, that’s that. Hosiah doesn’t go to your mother’s ever again.”
“Dark—”
“Dark, nothing. I gave her another chance. Does she ever do anything right?”
“That isn’t fair,” Christine said sharply. “Look, it’s partly our fault. We didn’t really talk to her about the salt.”
“No,” Dawson said, shaking his head. “Oh, no. We’re not taking the blame for this. She was well aware that salt is a problem for Hosiah, and she goes and chooses one of the worst foods for salt content. Good Lord, what is wrong with that woman?”
“But she probably doesn’t know there’s that much salt in pizza,” Christine tried.
“Oh, please, Christine.”
She sighed in exasperation, pouring the stew into a dish with a plop. Dawson called out to Hosiah and told him to wash his hands for dinner. The boy appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later with an aggrieved look.
“But why can’t they take the salt out of the pizza?” he said as he sat at the table.
“Oh,” Dawson said in surpri
se. He looked at Christine. “He does have a point. Couldn’t we make a pizza ourselves with fresh tomatoes and no salt added?”
“I haven’t a clue how to make it,” she said.
“But how hard could it be?” Dawson said. “It’s just dough and tomato and cheese, isn’t it? I know cheese is expensive, but we could just use less of it.”
“Yay!” Hosiah cheered. “Our own pizza! Let’s make it now.”
“We don’t have the ingredients yet, silly,” Dawson said, grinning. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
Hosiah jumped off his chair and did a victory dance while chanting, “Pee-za, pee-za, pee-za!”
25
At the pit latrine near the railway station, Tedamm paid his twenty-pesewa fee, took the few sheets of wiping paper the custodian handed him, entered, took care of business, and emerged in under seven minutes feeling a trifle lighter.
He joined his boys Antwi and Ofosu waiting for him around the corner. They began their prowl, up to mischief of any kind—a small boy to beat up, a girl to harass or have sex with, someone to steal from. It was only nine o’clock at night. There was still plenty of time and a good selection of innocent people to pick from.
First they walked along Okai Kwei Road and then up Kwame Nkrumah Avenue to the CMB area, where there were a lot of girls to look at. From there, they went searching for their akpeteshie supplier on Tudu Road, where the pavement was already filling up with rows of homeless people for the night.
Watching commercial trucks loading and unloading merchandise, Tedamm and his boys shared the akpeteshie they had just bought. Bitter and powerful, it shot to their brains like the flame of a blowtorch.
“Chaley, they say somebody killed Ebenezer,” Antwi said. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, I heard,” Ofosu said. “Maybe he annoyed somebody.” Giggling, he looked pointedly at Tedamm, who stared back at him for a moment before delivering a resounding slap to the side of his head. Ofosu jumped back, clutching his face and squealing like a wounded piglet.
“Don’t talk shit,” Tedamm snapped.
Something caught his attention up the street. “There’s that girl Comfort I told you about,” he said, pointing with his chin. She was walking toward them, but then she crossed the road. “Let’s go and get her.”
They caught up with her, surrounding her like a pack of dogs. Tedamm told her he loved her beautiful copper color and her big buttocks. She laughed and tossed her head. Tedamm put his arm around her, and they all walked along Tudu Road together. “Have some akpeteshie,” Tedamm said. “Come on, it’s good for you.”
She took a sip and spat it out. The three boys laughed at her.
“Take some more,” Tedamm said, bringing the bottle to her lips. Some of it ran down her chin.
“I know somewhere we can go,” Tedamm said, winking at his boys.
He took Comfort’s hand as Antwi and Ofosu followed behind them. Someone was walking straight toward them. In the poor light of the street, it took Tedamm a moment to realize it was Issa. He kept coming without moving aside to give them any space to go by. He locked eyes with Tedamm as they got closer. They stopped two meters apart. Issa glanced at Ofosu, Antwi, and Comfort before coming back to Tedamm.
“So now you are happy that Ebenezer is dead.”
“What are you talking about?” Tedamm said.
“You killed him because he wouldn’t let you have his territory.”
“Kwasea,” Tedamm said. “Don’t waste my time.”
“You wait. You’ll be sorry.”
Issa kept his eyes on Tedamm as he went around him. As Issa walked away, Tedamm laughed at him, calling out insults until he was out of sight.
“Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s go.”
He turned up a narrow alley between Jabs Electric and the Ghana Commercial Bank building. On the other side, there was a short, unpaved road with a Vodafone kiosk and a brick wall at the end of it in a cul-de-sac. Apart from faint light from the ATM, it was pitch dark.
Antwi sat on a concrete block, and Ofosu knelt while Tedamm sat with his back against the wall with Comfort reclining against him. He fed her more akpeteshie. The drunker she got, the more he was able to expose her breasts and fondle them. He waited until Comfort became completely incoherent. They stretched her out on the ground, pulling up her skirt and tearing her flimsy underwear. Antwi and Ofosu held Comfort’s legs apart. More than ready, Tedamm lowered his trousers to his thighs. She let out a shriek as he forced his way like a battering ram. He pressed his hand hard over her mouth and face. Her nose began to bleed all over his hand as she struggled. Tedamm felt a rush of excitement. Each thrust knocked the breath out of her.
They heard the sound of a car’s tires as it turned into the cul-de-sac, and then headlights appeared.
“Someone coming!” Antwi said.
“Hold her!” Tedamm gasped. He couldn’t stop now. The lava had begun to flow. Antwi bolted. Ofosu followed. The volcano erupted.
Breathing hard, Tedamm yanked up his trousers. He swung around. The car was stationary, the beams of the headlights trained on him. Blinded, Tedamm couldn’t make out what kind of vehicle it was, but it wasn’t a small car, for sure. The door opened, and someone, a man, stepped out and stood in front of the left headlight.
“Who are you?” Tedamm shouted.
The man, his face in shadow, didn’t move. Tedamm, suddenly afraid, turned and fled.
26
A little past ten o’clock, Dawson and Chikata found Mosquito hanging around the outside of the railway station.
“How are you?” Dawson asked him. The boy looked nervous.
“I’m fine. Let’s go to my base.”
They crossed Kwame Nkrumah Avenue and walked along Knutsford Avenue. People were still awake, but many were already asleep on the pavement.
“Here is our place,” Mosquito said, as they got to about the middle of Knutsford. On the veranda in front of the store, there were a couple cardboard mats. Only two members of the gang were back for the night: Issa, the leader, and Mawusi, who was sleeping. Dawson and Chikata shook hands with Issa, who was visibly uneasy.
“Is he all right?” Dawson asked, indicating Mawusi.
“He’s sick,” Issa said. “Fever.”
Ironically, Mawusi meant “in God’s hands,” Dawson remembered from school. He was struck by how small the boy was.
“How old is he?”
“Thirteen,” Issa said.
He looked more like ten.
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll get some medicine from a pharmacy,” Issa said lamely.
“Do you know about the clinic at the Street Children of Accra Refuge?” Dawson asked him.
“Eben told me something about it, but I’ve never been there before.”
“You should take Mawusi there,” Dawson said. He gave Issa one of Patience’s cards.
Issa examined it for a moment. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. I’m very sorry about Ebenezer.”
Issa looked away, his gaze morose.
“Ebenezer was watchman from what time to what time?” Dawson asked.
“From nine to midnight,” Issa said.
“And Mosquito came back at what time?”
“Almost ten-thirty.”
“And Ebenezer was gone by then.”
“Yes, please.”
“And then you went to search for him?”
“First, Mosquito went to that side,” Issa said, pointing to the east end of Knutsford. “When he came back, then the two of us went together to the other side.”
“Let’s take a look,” Dawson said.
Issa led the way. Mosquito stayed behind to watch Mawusi. Dawson glanced back and saw the older boy covering the sick one with a cardboard mat.
There was an old bola truck at the end of the street parked parallel to Kojo Thompson Road. Standing there rusting into oblivion, it reminded Dawson of the railway car at the station.
They went around the perimeter of the truc
k, carefully searching the ground with their flashlights. They looked inside the rear loader and poked around in the bola with a stick they got off the ground. Dawson wasn’t expecting to find anything special, and they didn’t.
“Let’s go to the other end of Knutsford now,” he said.
There was a pharmacy called A-Plax at Knutsford’s western end, about a dozen street children sleeping on its veranda. Behind that was the dark hulk of the UTC building. Turning right took them up to Derby Avenue, Commercial Street, Kimberly Avenue, and Station Road, all of which ran parallel to Knutsford in that order going north. They had one feature in common: With little or no street lighting, they were very dark, particularly at their far ends. Ebenezer could easily have been attacked here or snatched away. Dead this morning in Jamestown, about two miles away, he had to have been moved and then killed or killed and then moved. There was a third possibility: killed while being moved.
Dawson was thinking about this as they stood at the side of Nkrumah Avenue. It was deadly quiet in the city now.
“Issa, we’re also looking for Tedamm,” Dawson said. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes, I saw him this night with his boys.”
“Which boys are you talking about?”
“Antwi Boasiako and Michael Ofosu. They always follow him around.”
“Where did you see them?”
“At Tudu Road. They were with some girl.”
“Ebenezer had a quarrel with Tedamm, not so?”
Issa nodded, bitterness twisting his features. “He was trying to take Eben’s spot. Eben wouldn’t give him way. That’s why Tedamm killed him.”
Dawson was startled. “What? How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“A feeling in your bones.”
Issa nodded.
“How did Tedamm kill Eben?” Dawson asked. “And how did he get him to Jamestown?”
“I’m sure he came with his ruffian friends and put Eben by force inside a car, then they drove him to Jamestown and killed him there.”
“Is there someone else who maybe wanted to kill Eben?”
Issa sucked his teeth and shook his head. “No one, except Tedamm. Everybody liked Eben.”