Wife of the Gods

by Kwei Quartey

  Nunana looked at Efia and shook her head. “There’s blood,” she said, “but no seed.”

  Efia kissed Ama, and into her ear she whispered, “It will never happen again, Ama. I promise you that.”

  The storm quieted down to a steady light rain, and finally everyone could get some sleep. Keeping her arms around Ama as she slept, Efia waited two hours. Her eyes never closed in that time. She was extra alert, her mind bright and clear.

  She shook Ama gently. “We have to leave.”

  “Eh?”

  “Shh. Come.”

  They stepped over the sleeping wives and children and went outside. A feeble flash of lightning lit up Togbe’s hut for a moment, showing the way.

  Ama wiped rainwater away from her eyes. “What’s wrong, Mama? Where are we going?”

  “Togbe will try to hurt you and me again. We’re going to run away to Ketanu, and from there maybe someone can take us to another town far away, where Togbe will never find us.”

  Lightning illuminated Ama’s face, and Efia saw how fearful she was.

  “Wait for me here,” Efia said, but thunder drowned her out and she had to repeat it.

  “I have to get something from Togbe’s hut first,” she explained. “Don’t come to look for me, do you hear? No matter what, you must not come looking for me. You understand?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “But when I come out, we run, okay?”

  Ama nodded. She was shivering from cold and fear.

  Efia knew about how many steps it was to Togbe’s house, and she found the edges of the doorway and went in. She waited for the next bit of lightning. It was less bright, but still enough to see Togbe sleeping on his right side the way he always did. He was a heavy sleeper and slept even better when it rained and when he was sleeping off his drunkenness.

  Efia knelt down behind him and gently tapped his left shoulder. He grunted, moaned, and rolled onto his back, and she waited a few moments until she was sure he had settled back into deep sleep. Efia fumbled around for the bottom edge of his sleeping cloth. Some of it was tangled under his weight, and she had to gently peel it up and out. She looked nervously up at the door to make sure Ama wasn’t there. Good girl. Just a few minutes more.

  She had almost all of Togbe’s lower section uncovered. He was wearing trousers, but she was still worried the exposure to the air would wake him. Now she had to be quick.

  One burst of lightning, and then thunder. Good.

  One button. The others had fallen off long ago.

  Lightning. She spread the fly open. Thunder.

  Don’t wake up, please.

  Her knife, the one she used to cut goat meat with, was under her cloth. She took it out. He stirred.

  No, no, don’t turn over.

  Knife in her right hand, left poised steady over his penis like a runner on his mark.

  A brilliant flash of lightning, and she saw it clearly, grasped the shaft, and pulled up. The knife blade arced silently through the dark, so sharp she did not feel it cut the flesh, but she felt his penis come cleanly up and away from his body in her left hand. He writhed like a worm on a stick and sat up, but she was already at the door, and she never heard his first scream.

  For a moment she didn’t see Ama. Where was she?

  They bumped into each other.

  “Run!” Efia shouted.

  In pitch darkness, they held hands and ran over ground they could not see into a future they did not know.

  “DARKO? DARKO, WAKE UP.” He started and opened his eyes. Auntie Osewa was gently shaking his shoulder. “Good morning. I hate to wake you, but you have a visitor.”

  She left him so he could get dressed. He pulled on his jeans, threw on a shirt, and went outside, where he was surprised to find Elizabeth waiting for him. She looked grim and anxious.

  “Morning, Inspector Dawson. Can you come quickly?”

  As Dawson hurried with Elizabeth to her house, she explained what had happened. She had been in the shop early to set up for the day. Glancing out the window, she had spotted Efia and Ama walking by. Elizabeth did not know them well, but she recognized Efia as one of the Bedome traders with whom she had good-naturedly haggled at Ketanu’s big market day a couple of months ago. Efia had struck her then as an extraordinarily lovely woman in pitiful tattered clothing, but this morning there was a special distress to her bearing as she led her trailing daughter by the hand. Sodden and miserable from last night’s rain, they were looking around with wondering, confused eyes.

  It took time and skill to get the whole story, but once Elizabeth found out that Efia and her daughter were on the run from Togbe Adzima, she didn’t have a second’s hesitation in taking the two women into her home for safety, a bath, and a change into dry clothes.

  When Dawson and Elizabeth got to the house, Ama had fallen asleep in Gladys’s room, but Efia was in the living room wide awake, tense and nervous. Dorcas Mensah was cooking breakfast, and Elizabeth joined her, leaving Dawson and Efia to talk.

  “Are you all right?” Dawson asked.

  “I’m better now, thank you, Mr. Dawson.”

  “You spent the whole night in the forest?”

  “Yes, but as soon as it started to get light, we came to Ketanu. I didn’t even know what we were going to do when we got here. The gods will bless Madame Elizabeth for what she has done for us.”

  “She’s a very good person,” Dawson agreed. “What made you decide to escape from Togbe?”

  Efia cast her gaze down. “For a man to rape his own daughter …” Her voice trailed off. Tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head as if she still could not believe it.

  “It happened last night?”

  “Yes, and I promised Ama it would never happen again. Nor will it happen to any other woman. Because I took away his manhood forever.”

  Dawson was uncertain what she meant. “You mean you put a curse on him?”

  “No, I mean I used a knife to cut his manhood off.”

  Dawson’s jaw dropped and he gazed at Efia with new awe, and then he smiled inwardly. Sweet vengeance.

  He took her hand gently and gave it a quick squeeze. “You are very brave.”

  She nodded, but she was desolate. “Maybe now they will kill me for what I’ve done.”

  “Never. I won’t let anyone kill you.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I know.”

  They were both quiet for a moment.

  “You hid the knife?” Dawson asked her.

  She nodded. “It’s in a safe place in the forest.”

  “Good. Don’t tell me where, and if the police come, don’t say anything all right?”

  “Please, yes, sir.”

  Dawson took out his mobile. He hadn’t charged it since leaving the guesthouse, and it had almost completely lost its juice.

  Timothy Sowah answered on the third ring.

  “Good morning, Timothy. This is Detective Inspector Dawson.”

  Silence for a moment.

  “Morning, Inspector Dawson.” He sounded wary.

  “I need your help. I’m at the Mensahs’ house with Efia, one of Togbe Adzima’s trokosi.”

  “The one who discovered Gladys’s body?”

  “Yes. She and her daughter escaped from Adzima last night.”

  “Goodness.”

  “We need them moved away from here to somewhere safe.”

  “This is what Gladys and I prayed every day would happen,” Timothy said, his voice trembling with excitement, all the aloofness in it now gone.

  “Can you help?”

  “Yes, I’ll send a car to bring her here to Ho, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Thank you, Timothy. Oh, and by the way, I’d like to officially apologize for my arresting you. No hard feelings?”

  “None. You were doing your job.”

  “Good.”

  Once Efia and Ama were safely away, Dawson went to the guesthouse to look for Chikata again. He was just leaving as Dawson arrived.
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  “The bird has flown,” he said as Dawson got out of the car.

  Dawson stopped in his tracks. “Kutu’s gone?”

  “Correct. I went looking for him yesterday at his compound, and everyone there said he had left and they didn’t know where he was. I checked inside his rooms to make sure he wasn’t hiding.”

  “Have you searched for him in town?”

  “I didn’t have enough time yesterday to do a good job before the rain, so I’m going now.”

  “I’ll come with you. I can’t believe you’re actually doing some work, D.S. Chikata.”

  “Thank you, D.I. Dawson, sir. You’re very funny, sir, but thank you.”

  They canvassed the street, asking people if they had seen Isaac Kutu anywhere. No one had.

  “I’m hungry,” Chikata said.

  They stopped at a street hawker’s stand and bought some red-red—fried plantain and black-eyed peas in spicy-hot palm sauce—and a Coke and a Malta.

  “You really think your auntie was lying about Samuel?” Chikata said, with his mouth full of food.

  Dawson swallowed before speaking. “Last night I thought so, this morning I’m not so sure. I’m confused.”

  “I believe her story,” Chikata said. “You read her police statement, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If she was lying, how could she know those details about the clothes they were wearing—Adinkra symbols and all that stuff? Everything she says checks out.”

  “Yes, I know.” Dawson shook his head. “I’m frustrated.”

  “Drink some Malta,” Chikata said with a snort. “Maybe it will help you think.”

  Dawson didn’t answer. He stopped eating, and his blood turned to ice. Adinkra symbols.

  Chikata was staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Under my nose,” he whispered. “Under my very nose.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s go,” Dawson said.

  “Hey, man, I haven’t finished eating.”

  “Can’t you eat and walk at the same time?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To buy me a skirt and blouse.”

  AT OSEWA’S FIREWOOD SPOT, Dawson instructed Chikata to turn his back and not to look until called. Dawson walked the approximately three hundred meters to the area at the side of the forest not far from the beginning of the path to Ketanu. It was here that Isaac had rebuked Samuel for talking to Gladys and had chased the boy away That was well established. The unanswered question was whether Samuel had really rejoined Gladys on her way back to Ketanu after she and Isaac had parted. That was Auntie Osewa’s version of the story, and if it was true, Samuel must have hidden behind a tree or bush and waited until the coast was clear. But how could he have done that if he had stayed with the farmers until nightfall?

  Dawson had bought a skirt and blouse at Elizabeth’s—extra large to fit him. He had lied and said it was to be a gift for a full-figured sister-in-law. The outfit was identical to the one Gladys had been wearing: blue and white with small Adinkra symbols. He had not shown it to Chikata.

  With considerable ineptness, for which he forgave himself, he put on the outfit over his own clothes. Then he called out to Chikata to turn around. He stood in place for about three minutes and then walked toward the Bedome-Ketanu footpath. He went up as far as the mango tree laden with tempting fruit. He didn’t know for sure, but he surmised Gladys would have got to at least this point before being accosted by Samuel.

  A woman was walking along the footpath with yams on her head, and she looked at Dawson as if he was insane. After she had passed him, he heard her laughing convulsively. Just jealous, he thought.

  He stepped into the bush, took the skirt and blouse off, and put it back in the bag. He trotted back to Chikata.

  “You saw me clearly?”

  “Twenty-twenty.”

  “Describe the dress fully.”

  “White, and some blue splashes all over.”

  “And what else?”

  “There’s something else?”

  “I’m asking you. Think hard.”

  Chikata shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “This is your last chance. Think carefully what else there was besides blue and white.”

  “Nothing. How many times do you want me to tell you?”

  Dawson took the dress out of its bag.

  “Oh,” Chikata said, surprised. “Adinkra symbols. I couldn’t see them from this dis—” He stopped as the light dawned. “Aah, this time you hit it right. Your auntie could not have seen it either. But why did she tell you that? Why would she lie?”

  When Chikata said that, Dawson felt tears pricking. His stomach had knotted up. The pieces were falling together one terrible step at a time.

  “For the same reason anyone lies,” Dawson said softly. “To hide what they really are.”

  “What is this place?” Chikata asked, looking about the forest clearing that Efia had introduced Dawson to.

  “It’s where Auntie Osewa comes for love and attention,” Dawson said.

  Chikata shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”

  “We need to build a fire,” Dawson said.

  “How are we going to do that?” Chikata demanded. “Everything is wet from last night’s rain.”

  “We’ll get it done,” Dawson replied, undeterred.

  But it did indeed prove difficult to engineer a pile of firewood dry enough to be set alight.

  “Blow on it,” Chikata suggested.

  “What do you know about lighting a fire?”

  “About as much as you. Nothing.”

  “Then shut up, D.S. Chikata.”

  A few minutes later a decent flame began.

  Chikata collected more dry wood, and Dawson added it slowly to avoid killing the fire. Soon it was blazing and popping.

  “Good,” he said, pleased. “Now get me a lot of plants and branches with green leaves.”

  As Dawson put those on top, the flame dropped and white smoke appeared. He unfolded the raffia mat and covered the fire for a few seconds, smoke escaping laterally from underneath the mat.

  “One puff.” He covered for a few seconds and released again. “Now two … two again …”

  “Smoke signals?” Chikata asked in disbelief. “Ah, but Dawson, who makes smoke signals anymore?”

  “Nobody,” Dawson said. “That’s why it hasn’t been noticed.”

  Dawson repeated the cycle several times. One puff, two puffs, two puffs, one. After a while, the fire burned itself out.

  “Now what?” Chikata asked.

  “We wait.”

  And wait they did. The more time passed, the worse Dawson felt. Even in the heat of the forest, he began to shiver.

  I could leave now, he thought. Just go back to Accra, call it a day.

  But he thought of Gladys and he thought of Samuel, and he knew he couldn’t leave.

  A light breeze whispered through the trees. Dawson caught the smell of the moist earth and the lingering odor of the smoke from the fire. He looked up as he heard the soft crunch of feet upon moist leaves. Judging by the interval between footsteps, it was a man approaching. A final rustle past an obstructing bush and Isaac Kutu broke into the clearing. He recoiled when he saw Dawson and Chikata.

  “What are you doing here?” he said in surprise.

  “Waiting for you and Auntie Osewa,” Dawson said.

  Isaac suddenly seemed to shrink. “Why?”

  “Is this where you always meet, or do you choose a different place each time?”

  Isaac’s shoulders slumped, and he passed his hand over his face like a cloth across a windowpane. “How did you know?”

  “Just when you think no one is watching, someone sees.”

  “You did?”

  “Not me.”

  A soft footfall, lighter and quicker than Isaac’s, came from beyond the clearing, and seconds later Auntie Osewa appeare
d. She went rigid and looked quizzically from Dawson and Chikata to Isaac.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I saw the signal and I thought it was you,” Isaac said.

  “And I thought it was you.” Osewa turned to Dawson, mystified. “Darko?”

  “Isaac loves you, Auntie, and you love him. When you signal for him to come to you, he comes. Not so?”

  “This is none of your concern, Darko.”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie. This isn’t easy for me either, because I’ve loved you from the first day I met you. The way you treated Mama and Cairo and me, your cooking, how you’ve cared for us … I want to thank you. I’ll never forget it.”

  She softened. “It’s my duty as an aunt. I love you and Cairo, so I treat you with love.”

  “Did you love my mother too?”

  “Of course, Darko. Why do you ask such a thing? Of course I loved her.”

  “But jealousy defeats love every time, doesn’t it? They’re opposite sides of the same coin, but jealousy always comes out heads.”

  “My dear Darko, what you are talking about?”

  “Jealousy,” Darko said softly, almost musing to himself. “And its twin, possessiveness.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How did it feel the day Isaac came to the house with Gladys? Did it seem to you like they were close, Auntie? Like there was romance between the two of them?”

  “They were working together on the medicines, that’s all,” she said. “I don’t know why you or I should think anything else.”

  “I don’t either, but that’s our heads talking. What our hearts say is different. The heart makes an impression on the head, but it’s never the reverse, and it’s the heart that drives our passions and motives.”

  “All you’re saying may be true, Darko, my love, but—”

  “It was very threatening, Auntie. I know that, and I understand it. Gladys was so lovely, and although she was no lovelier than you, she was young, she was educated, and she was going to be a doctor. To see her with your Isaac, the Isaac who has done so much for you and whom you love more than any other man in the world—maybe the only one you love.” Dawson shook his head. “Too frightening for Gladys to get so close. Who knows what they were doing together in Isaac’s compound? Hours spent side by side. I would have gone mad myself thinking about it.”