by Jewel Daniel
"Yeah, but goats are cute creatures you touch at the petting zoo."
"So are pigs, but I don't see you grimace at your ham."
Tamara laughed. He had a point. Maybe she was being too close minded. "I'll try some more goat meat, but I'll pretend it is lamb."
"Now that's my girl," he said as he spooned more of the goat stew over her foo-foo.
They were silent for a while before Tamara said, "I'm sorry you had to see me so upset. I don't usually lose control of my emotions like that."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, butI have to, because it affectsyou." She twirled a bit of foo-foo on her fork and looked off at the fireplace. "I've been out of a job almost a year now, and things are really tight financially. I am in a lot of debt. I may have to sell this house and move back in my mother's house."
Kwabena was silent for a while. He hadn't realized she had been unemployed for so long. That explained why she agreed to marry a stranger for money.
"What kind of work did you do?" he asked. It was the first time they'd had an intimate conversation.
"I was an information technologist. Jordan and I worked at the same company. Last year we both got downsized. He was smart enough to start his own business. I've failed to find a job for this whole year. Now I'm apparently obsolete. My mother's duplex is much smaller than here. There won't be any separate apartment for you. We'll have to figure out how we'll establish shared primary residence. Maybe we can do the roommate thing."
"Would it help if I pay you rent for the downstairs apartment and the utilities?"
She smiled. Why didn't I think of renting it out before? That could have helped her with her mortgage. The rent from the Rosedale duplex could help supplement it.
"I'll only accept for half the utilities," she responded. "I don't want to be a kept woman."
Kwabena burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"When I first saw your house, I thought you were a kept woman."
It was Tamara's turn to laugh. "Yeah, right! Why would you ever think so?"
"Your bedroom. It looks like a honeymoon suite. So I figured you were with a loaded man."
"When I bought the house, I was loaded. And as for that bedroom... it's a long story."
He reached across the table and patted her hand. "Everything will work out. God never gives us more than we can bear."
She smiled and got up from the table. "I'll do the dishes."
"No, I'll do them. I made the mess."
"Since you cooked, it's only fair that I do the dishes."
He didn't want her to see the kind of mess he'd made in her pristine kitchen. "You'll ruin your nice suit."
She removed the jacket, revealing a camisole that left little for the imagination. He didn't want to stare lest he be accused of lechery, but it was hard to keep his eyes off her ample bosom. Looking at her, he felt stirrings in places he could not reveal to her.
They argued back and forth until she saw the mess he made in the kitchen. "Ok, we'll clean the kitchen together," she conceded.
For the next few minutes, they cleaned the kitchen, chatting and getting to know each other. For the first time in a long time, Tamara felt like laughing.
"You know, you do have a nice smile. It's such a shame we don't see it very often," Kwabena observed as they finished the kitchen and walked out to the den where she'd cried in his arms an hour or two ago.
"I guess I didn't have very much to smile about this past year."
As he flipped on the LCD TV above the mantel, he said, "Happiness should be in spite of not because of."
"What are you, a philosopher?" she gently teased.
He shook his head.
"What work do you do?"
"Research." Kwabena did not elaborate.
They looked at a few sitcoms together. It felt so good to have another person to talk to and laugh with.
"Can I ask you a question?" Kwabena asked her.
"You already did, but you can ask me another," she teased.
"Do you wear contacts?"
"Yeah why?"
"This morning your eyes were a lot lighter than I had ever seen them."
Busted! She smiled. "I wear colored contacts. I cannot see a thing without them. Is that why you were staring at me this morning?"
"Yes."
Tamara smiled sheepishly. "I thought you were staring at other things. I'm sorry I accused you of lechery."
"That was a pretty egregious accusation. I can't accept your apology until you accept my invitation."
"What invitation?"
"To a gala ceremony at the Ghanaian Embassy in D.C."
"Why me? What about your friends or your girlfriend?"
"I'm a married man, or didn't you notice?" he teased.
She laughed. "I noticed. Why not? I accept the invitation. Just don't get any ideas about marital consummation."
He laughed as he got ready to head downstairs. It was almost eleven. "Don't worry. I don't want to be accused of overstepping my bounds again. By the way, it's a formal affair."
He said goodnight and headed downstairs. "Ben," Tamara called as he approached the stairs. "Thanks for dinner and for understanding. You can call me Tammy."
He smiled and nodded before disappearing into the basement. Tamara headed upstairs. It was the first time in a long while she'd enjoyed an evening in her house.
The gala came quicker than Tamara had anticipated. She didn't have any formal dresses that still fit, and she couldn't afford the brand name clothes in the mall. She and Becky went to a discount plus-size clothing outlet with four children in tow, and bought a black dress with thin-strapped corset bodice. It flared off the hips, then flowed into a handkerchief hem. The corset bodice restrained her loose flesh and accentuated her full figure. With it she wore a glittery shawl, silver earrings and black stilettos speckled with silver.
She applied her makeup and came downstairs to meet Kwabena in the den as they had agreed. Just then the doorbell rang, and Tamara rushed to answer it.
"Auntie Tammy." Katanya and Kayla rushed into her arms.
Ebony stood outside while a man in a black car waited impatiently. "Can you watch them for me tonight?"
As Ebony stepped into the foyer, her face registered surprise. "What's with the dress?"
"I'm sorry, Ebony, but I have plans," Tamara said.
"Come on, Tammy, how often do I ask this of you? The kids are all excited to sleep over tonight." Both girls had already run upstairs to their room, where Tamara kept an assortment of toys and books for them.
"I'm sorry Ebony, but I do have a life." Tamara shook her head. "You chose a very bad weekend for this. You should have given me some advance warning."
"Did Jared come back?" Ebony asked, looking up the stairs and around the room.
Tamara frowned. "Don't even mention that name to me," she exclaimed angrily. "If he does, I will have a loaded gun waiting for him."
"Who's this mystery date? Don't tell me you're engaged again."
Tamara sighed. "Just take the kids and go. I...
Kwabena came upstairs just then, wearing traditional Ghanaian attire. He wore kinte trousers with a flowing robe and what looked like a scarf diagonally across his chest. On his head he wore a matching kofia. His presence filled the room. From his head to his toes, he looked impressive, like African royalty.
Ebony and Tamara both stared at him, speechless. Tamara knew he was handsome, but she'd never seen him looking this fine.
"This is my cousin Ebony," Tamara introduced them when she found her tongue. "Ebony this is Kwabena."
"Hi," Ebony muttered breathlessly.
"Ebony was just leaving. Kayla and Katanya," Tamara called. The kids came running down the stairs.
Tamara introduced Kwabena to the kids. Kayla stepped forward bravely and stretched out her hand for him to shake while Katanya hid behind her mother.
"Nice to meetyou, Kayla," Kwabena said, crouching to her level and shaking her
hand. "You've got quite a handshake."
He put his hand out to Katanya for her to give him five. Katanya smiled and hesistantly stepped forward to slap his palms. Shyly she asked, "Why are you wearing a lady's dress?"
Kwabena smiled. Tamara tried hard not to laugh. Ebony outright giggled.
"That's not a ladys dress, silly," Kayla corrected impatiently. "Don't you see it's an African costume?"
"You're quite a smart young lady, Kayla. This"-he turned to Katanya and said in the soft voice of a kindergarten teacher-"is my traditional Ghanaian dress. People from Ghana wear it to special events that celebrate African culture, like the one we're attending right now."
"What's Ghana?" Katanya questioned.
"Ghana is a country in West Africa. It is the very beautiful country where I am from."
He stood backup to his full height and spoke directly to Ebony, "It was a pleasure meeting you and your two lovely daughters. Tamara and I really should get going soon. Maybe we'll meet again someday."
Tamara smiled as Ebony nodded and gathered the kids. Ebony was not too happy and Tamara couldn't care less. But when she saw the disappointment on Katanya's face she turned to her. "I promise you we'll have a sleepover sometime soon. I'll have Devon over too, deal?"
"Deal," Kayla and Katanya said in unison as they bounded through the door.
Tamara turned back into the den to see Kwabena staring intently at her. She blushed and turned away.
He took a few steps toward her. "You look wonderful tonight," he complimented. He had never seen her so well dressed, and she certainly looked ravishing. She was an attractive woman, despite her fiery anger and her sometimes unconfident disposition. The black dress contrasted well with her light complexion, giving her skin a healthy glow.
"Thank you," she whispered as they stepped out into the cool night.
The gala was held in an impressive suite at the Ghanaian embassy. An exhibition displaying the history, culture and art of Ghana was held in the anteroom. Paintings, carved stools, masks, jewelry, drums and photos of historic events were on display. Kwabena escorted Tamara from exhibit to exhibit, explaining the different crafts and some of the history. He stood before a lovely wooden mask with intricate details.
"This is a Dagomba mask," he explained. "It is a religious mask used ceremoniously by the Dagomba people, one of the larger ethnic groups in Ghana. Today it's mostly decorative."
"And this one?" Tamara questioned, running her fingers over another intricately carved, blackened wooden mask.
"This one's an Akan mask. It probably goes back to the time when the Asante united into one kingdom. And this right here is a replica of the golden stool," he explained, pointing to a wooden curve-topped bench. "This stool is pretty powerful. It is believed to contain the sunsurn, which is the soul of the Asante people. In fact, legend has it that the original golden stool fell out of heaven right into the lap of the king and made the Asante people a powerful nation."
"And what tribe are you?" Tamara probed.
"I'm Asante, but the Akan is made up of both the Fante and the Asante people."
They moved over to a colorful picture of a woman with a basket of fruit on her head. To Tamara, it looked like an applique on canvas. She wondered what material it was made of. As if reading her mind, Kwabena asked, "Can you guess what this is made of?"
"It looks like some kind of fabric... or tissue paper. No, it must be leaves, I'm seeing veins," Tamara contemplated.
"Butterfly wings," Kwabena said and looked at the surprised expression on her face.
"Wow, I would never have guessed."
Kwabena greeted a few dignitaries, keeping short conversations in a rhythmic language.
"What language is that?" Tamara asked.
"Twi. Various dialects of it are spoken by the Akan people. It's probably the most widely spoken language in Ghana other than English," he responded.
Just then a tall man dressed in full Ghanaian regalia approached. From his entourage and the deference people gave him, Tamara could tell he was someone of great importance. He greeted Kwabena who bowed and shook his hand. They spoke for a few minutes before Kwabena introduced Tamara.
"I'd like you to meet the ambassador to the United States," he said.
Tamara bowed and shook his hands before being escorted to their seats.
Tamara leaned over to him. "How do you know all these important people?"
"The ambassador and my father worked together a long time ago," he explained.
The dinner was a formal affair. Many of the men wore traditional African attire. Others wore suits and ties. The women were decked out in their most elegant finery, some with majestic-looking headpieces. There were long speeches from people deemed great orators. Dancers in colorful costumes performing traditional dances to drums entertained them. Then there was an awards ceremony.
The master of ceremonies gave a long introduction about the work and contributions of each recipient, who then received the award with much fanfare and delivered a long-winded speech. Two hours into the ceremony, Tamara had tuned out most of the speeches. Though the ceremony was done in English, the heavy accents made it difficult to understand all that was being said. So it came as a surprise when she heard, "I now present this award to Dr. Kwabena Opoku for his contribution to the advancement of science and medicine."
Tamara stared in disbelief as Kwabena strode up to the podium amid loud applause. He ceremoniously accepted the award and gave a thankfully short, yet eloquent speech. After shaking the hands of a million and one dignitaries, Kwabena returned to his seat. He saw the shock on Tamara's face and smiled, indicating that he would explain to her later.
The minute they got into her Lexus, Tamara turned to Kwabena. "Dr Kwabena Opoku. When I asked you what work you did, you said research. Why didn't you tell me you were a scientist-a doctor, no less?"
He smiled and calmly responded, "I did. I have a PhD in biomedical engineering, and I do biomedical research. What difference does it make?"
"Ben, I don't know. At least I wouldn't be blindsided." She tried to explain, "I would have known you were being presented an award... that you are an accomplished scientist. What's the award for anyway?"
"It's really not a big deal. Every year the Ghanaian Association holds a gala and they honor a few ex-pats who they feel have done something to make the Ghanaian people proud. I'm a biomedical engineer. I published a few papers in respected scientific journals, which, quite frankly, most people do not read, so they decided to honor me. It's not the Nobel Prize."
"I don't understand why you are going through such great lengths to downplay your accomplishments," Tamara responded with annoyance. "If you're such a big shot why did you have to get married for a green card? Don't important researchers get national-interestwaivers or something of that nature?"
Kwabena was quiet for a few seconds as he collected his thoughts. "You know, I had this really wonderful great-uncle. He was an old, frail, soft-spoken man. I'm named for him."
"But-" Tamara began.
"He always would say to me: `Never boast of your accomplishments or your good works. If they've made an impact, they will speak for themselves."' He paused. "I thought he was just an old wise man who never really left the village. But he was a well-educated and accomplished man. You know when I found that out? At his funeral. When they read the eulogy, I learned that he was a brave soldier in the fight against colonialism and an ardent advocate of Pan-African unity. He was also an accomplished author of several Ghanaian political and social commentaries and had traveled all over the continent promoting African unity. Bearing his name, I have a lot to live up to, but I emulate him because I admire his humility."
"Oh," Tamara responded. "Butyou haven't answered my question."
"Which one?"
"The reason behind the green-card marriage."
He thought for a minute about the circumstances leading up to the marriage. It was a simple story but hard to explain. He'd been forced to make a diffi
cult decision to report his mentor's unethical behavior to the university. His mentor's reaction was extreme. He set out to undermine Kwabena's tenure and terminate his appointment. Failing to do so, he sought his deportation when his H-1B visa was about to expire. As Kwabena reflected on the difficulties of the last few months, he realized he was not yet ready to share that information with Tamara. "It's a long and involved story."
"I guess we all have our skeletons, don't we?"
Kwabena just smiled. "I guess."
They drove in silence for a short while. "I don't feel like going home now, do you?" Kwabena asked.
"What do you feel like doing?"
"Dancing. Let's go dancing."
They went to a West African night spot in Washington, D.C. As they entered the hall, a group of men greeted Kwabena with loud fanfare, congratulating him and patting him on the back. They were a few of his friends and associates from the West African Association.
One of the men looked over at Tamara. "Who is the little woman?" he asked curiously. "Quite a departure from your usual."
Kwabena just laughed. "This is my landlord, Tamara Fontaine."
"Quite a young landlord," the man said with admiration.
He laughed and waved his friend off lightly. Soon they were on the dance floor, moving to mostly quick tempo West African soukous and hip-hop. Tamara laughed with joy when she heard people rapping in a foreign language with heavy Nigerian accents.
For the first time in a long time she was having fun. Most of Kwabena's associates laughed, flirted with her and teased her, making her feel part of the group.
Sometime after two A.lz., the music slowed down. Kwabena led her by the hand to the dance floor. Together they swayed to the music. She rested her head on his chest as they slow danced. She could smell his cologne through his shirt. For a moment she forgot about their arranged marriage, their business deal and just enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the dance. Soon she felt his head lower, and his cheek resting on the top of her head. Then his lips brushed her head ever so lightly. Or was she imagining things? Did he just kiss her head?