by Adwoa Badoe
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You like music, kebabs and drinks?”
I nodded.
“Friday, hmm? Come and watch me play.” Faisal laughed, showing white gleaming teeth. “I give you something.” He pulled a drawer open and gave me a silver frosted belt with a large sequined buckle. He also gave me a small plastic bag to carry it in.
“Thank you very much,” I said. “I have to go now.”
“Don’t forget, Friday at five-thirty.” Then he blew me a kiss, just like in the films.
I hurried back to Ayele for my basket. On a whim I decided to buy a whole lot of cassava and large apantu plantains to make fufu.
We never made fufu at the apartment. Christine didn’t even have a mortar and pestle. But downstairs, Dr. Owusu’s wife made fufu every day.
It wasn’t that Christine didn’t like fufu, but whenever they wished for it, Dr. Joe would take her to the Scoreboard chop-bar, where the fufu was declared to be the best. Sometimes she bought fufu at the nearby Ghana-Guinea-Mali restaurant.
The craving for fufu and groundnut soup was sudden and strong, so I rearranged my list and bought everything I needed. I followed my nose to where the mudfish was arranged on wooden trays, blackened with smoke. I bought tolo-beef steeped in salt and four cups of groundnut paste, which the lady wrapped in leaves. I filled my basket until I could barely lift it, but I managed to drag it off to the taxi rank. This time, without Bea, the taxi driver drove me all the way to D Block.
Christine said there was a rule at the doctors’ flats that we couldn’t pound fufu on the higher floors, so I went down to the ground floor and asked Mrs. Owusu if I could pound fufu on their back porch with her mortar and pestle.
Everyone passing by saw me on my kitchen stool pounding fufu. Just a half hour into the process, I had said yes to several people who asked for a taste of the food when it was done. Mostly this meant nothing except friendly conversation. After all, I didn’t cook for myself. I cooked for Christine. I had suggested to Christine that we invite her friends Julie and Mimi to dinner.
Bea passed by dressed up as if she had a party to attend. She was with a group, some of whom I recognized from the complex. I wondered if Bea still had it in mind to become a doctor. Certainly she was gallivanting more than ever.
On an impulse I shouted her name. She turned and waved.
“I’ll be back,” she said. She sounded friendly.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I said. I resumed pounding with even more vigor.
The fufu became softer under my pounding as people passed to and fro. Then I saw Dr. Kusi walking up the path on his way to the carport.
“Gloria, I didn’t know you were strong enough to pound fufu with one hand and turn it with the other.”
“I’m strong,” I said, laughing.
“I want to taste your food,” he said.
“I’ll save you some,” I promised. “I owe you thanks.”
“No problem there.”
“Everybody’s talking about your car.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. It’s very nice. It makes the road as smooth as water.”
“I’ll take you and Sam for a long ride soon.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting for the fufu.” And as he strode off he added, “I mean it.”
At last the fufu was ready and I arranged the balls in a large serving dish. The soup was simmering on the stove and the aroma wafted to meet me as I climbed the stairs. Julie and Mimi were chatting upstairs in the living room with Christine, and Sam was riding his car around the apartment.
“Glo, we aren’t even going to take a drink before we’ve eaten,” said Julie.
“I’m hugging my belly until you’ve fed us,” said Mimi.
“If I know Glo well, she’s invited the whole compound,” said Julie. “It’s in our interest to begin eating right away.”
I laughed and dished the food out into bowls, making sure to save some for Dr. Kusi. I announced that Sam was going to eat fufu for the first time in his life. His soup stood apart in a little saucepan. I had added mashed carrots and no pepper at all. I had also boiled a whole egg for him.
They trooped off to wash their hands in the kitchen sink. Fufu was meant to be eaten only one way, fingers pinching off bits of soft mash, dipped into bowls of soup and allowed to slip gently down waiting throats.
We all sat down to eat. Christine said a prayer and dished out the soup. Everyone dug in. Sam was so funny with his face all scrunched up. He didn’t like the fufu but he liked the groundnut soup. So Christine mixed in Farex baby rice flakes and made a thick paste for him.
We ate without speaking much except for the grunts of appreciation.
“What would we do without you, Glo?” Julie said at least three times.
“Don’t swell her head with your praises,” said Christine.
The phone rang. Christine used her good hand to answer it. It was JB. They spoke for a short while.
“I’ll call you later,” said Christine. “I have guests and we’re eating Gloria’s fufu.”
She laughed at something JB said. “Later. Bye.”
She was chewing the last of the meat off the bones. The bones were soft and full of flavor, and I had already chewed mine to bits, sucking up all the marrow.
“JB’s jealous of our fufu,” she said.
“How’s he doing?” Julie asked.
“He’s okay. He wants to work in the UK for a few more years, and he wants me to move back with Sam. We’ve had so many arguments lately. I almost want to tell him to stay there if he wants to,” said Christine. “In the beginning, we agreed on my spending one year there. I ended up spending two.”
“But, Christine, you wouldn’t just sit home next time. You could specialize in pediatrics,” said Julie.
“I didn’t like England. I’d much rather stay here. We shouldn’t have married if he was going to turn everything around on me,” said Christine.
I fed Sam all his food and he cleaned out his plate. I was as quiet as a ghost.
“Good boy,” I whispered when he was done.
Christine turned to me and said, “Glo, please clear the plates.”
I could tell she had forgotten about me as she spoke with her friends. She probably wished I hadn’t heard what she’d said. Who wouldn’t want to go and live in Europe? I had heard the shops were full to overflowing and everybody owned a car, a Walkman and good clothes. I was quite sure that in the end Christine would agree to go. After all, wives were supposed to obey their husbands.
Suddenly it occurred to me that if they left for England, she might take me to look after Sam. Shiee! That would be amazing. I would pray hard for that to happen.
I washed the plates and set them on the draining board. I looked at the remaining fufu in the bowls I had set aside. I decided to take Dr. Kusi his portion as I had promised.
I heated up the soup quickly and dished a few ladles into an enamel bowl with a fitted plastic lid. I covered the fufu with a good selection of beef, smoked mudfish and dried herring. Then I placed the bowl in a nice round basket and covered it with a tea cloth.
Christine and her friends were still talking. I dashed out quickly. I would only be a couple of minutes. Block E was just around the corner.
Dr. Kusi opened the door of his apartment. Music was playing loudly from his entertainment center displaying a large TV and a stacked sound system. I saw that he had been studying at his dining-room table, because the books were open and a reading lamp had been switched on. Otherwise the room was quite dark.
“Gloria, come in, come in,” he said pleasantly.
He was wearing khaki shorts and a singlet. I saw the tight hairs on his chest and strong shoulders. He wasn’t as built up as Dr. Joe, but he looked strong.
“I brought you some fufu and soup and I have to go right away.”
“You’re always in a hurry, but at least you came today. I’ll tell you tomorrow how much I like your handwriting.”
I knew he was talking about my cooking. His voice was so soft.
“Bye,” I said, and I ran down the stairs and all the way home. I was back in our kitchen again when I remembered I had left the basket and tea cloth.
The women were still talking and no one had missed me. The TV was on and a cartoon was playing for Sam. I went to my bedroom and took out Book 4C. I began to practise my reading.
If we were going to England I would have to know English well. In England I might even be happy to return to school. I could become a nurse or a designer or a singer. Maybe I could even become a doctor.
Anything was possible.
• FOURTEEN •
Christine always drank tea before she left for work in the morning. I knew exactly how she liked it — strong, thick with Ideal milk and two cubes of sugar. If she had time, I made her chi-bom, omelet with fried tomatoes and peppers. Most mornings she had to leave by 7:45 to get to the wards by eight. On Wednesdays, when she had rounds and mortality meetings, she left by 7:15.
But this Wednesday morning her meetings went better than she had expected, and she returned in a good mood. She even baked a cake. Baking was something I knew nothing about, so I watched everything that Christine did, from creaming the margarine and sugar to breaking in eggs and folding in the flour. Afterward I ate the remains of the mixture in the bowl. It was almost as good as the cake itself.
On Thursday morning Christine said to me that Sam had been invited to play with Mrs. Owusu’s daughter. Elizabeth Owusu was five years old and completely in love with Sam, always wanting to hold him in a tight hug. I knew that Sam would spend the entire morning running away from her.
Christine left while Sam was still asleep, and I prayed. I prayed that Christine would agree to go to England and take me along. Then I prayed for Effie, Maa and Daa. But I didn’t read my new Bible.
I washed Sam’s diapers while he slept. I was hanging them on the line on our balcony to dry when I heard a hiss from the carport.
It was Dr. Kusi. He waved.
“Gloria, I will be back at noon. Come and see me.”
How perfect. I would be able to collect the basket and cloth before Christine came back at two.
Mrs. Owusu gave us Piccadilly biscuits. She gave Sam Golden Tree chocolates and filled their cups with chemicals. It was like a birthday party. I was worried that he was having too many sweets, but he was happy, so I let him play with Elizabeth and eat all the things that Christine called junk.
At twelve o’clock, I told her I had some chores to do.
“I’ll watch Sam,” she said. “I’m making jolof and I’ll feed him, too. Go and do your chores.”
Dr. Kusi had said noon, and there was his red car in his regular parking spot.
I walked over to E Block, climbed to the third floor and knocked on his door.
He opened it. His curtains were drawn and the room was dark. The music that came from his speakers was slow. Dr. Kusi was dressed for work in a white shirt and tie. He looked quite handsome, and I’d never thought of him as handsome.
“Gloria, come in,” he said. “Your food was so good. I took it into my dreams and feasted all night.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I kept your basket for you,” he said, pointing to the basket on his dining table.
“Thank you.”
“Sit down,” he said. “Do you ever watch movies? I have some great movies.”
Dr. Kusi’s television was large, and the picture extremely good. He searched through his videos and found one. He turned off his music and started the video.
“Sit there,” he said, pointing to the couch. “That’s the best spot for viewing.”
I sat down as if on a nest full of eggs, and the movie began. Dr. Kusi brought me a glass of Sprite and placed it on the coffee table by my side.
“I can only stay for an hour,” I said. I sat alone watching. I supposed Dr. Kusi was doing some work in his bedroom. Christine also kept a desk in her room for her work.
I sipped my drink and got caught up in the action. How did he know that I liked Indian movies? I had never seen this one before. It was called Yaadon Ki Baaraat, and the actors were beautiful in flowing shiny silks in bold reds and greens, beautifully embroidered with golden thread. Indian movie stars were the most beautiful, and their make-up was gorgeous.
At some time during the movie, Dr. Kusi returned and sat by me. I felt his thigh against mine. He put an arm around me, and his voice when he spoke my name was velvet.
I trembled. I smelled his perfume and a whiff of alcohol.
The next thing I knew, his lips were on my ear. Then he found my lips and kissed me. I sat as still as a rock. His hands felt my breasts.
“I love you, Gloria,” he said as he kissed me lightly over my face, my cheeks and my forehead. He kissed my lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth.
The movie ended and the room filled with silence. He withdrew, his large eyes fixed intently on me.
“There’s something about you, Gloria. You’re young but there’s something special about you.”
His words felt good. He returned to kissing and caressing me, and his hands were soft. His breath on my face tickled, and I began to kiss him back.
“Thank you for the food,” he said a little while later. “If you were a little older, I’d marry you. But now I’ll have to wait for you. Can you wait for me?” His voice was softer than ever. “Will you wait for me, my love?”
His words overwhelmed me. I sat drinking them in, falling in love with him as I sat on the gray couch in flat E6. It was like a dream. He caressed my face and his finger lingered over my lips.
“Wait, little wife,” he said.
He kissed me again lightly on the lips.
“There is a gift for you in the basket,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone about it.”
“Thank you,” I said in a whisper.
He smiled. “It’s because I love you. I have felt something special for you ever since I saw you at the clubhouse that day.”
I don’t know how I got back to D4. My legs were wobbly and my belly felt hollow. I wondered if this was the sin Daa called licentiousness.
Back at home, I found a thick wad of notes under the folded tray cloth in my basket. I sat on the bed and counted the money.
It was 350,000 cedis. I had never had so much money in my life.
I found my bag with the broken zipper and stuffed the money deep in the bag. On Saturday I would pay Faisal and owe only 30,000 cedis.
I replaced the red Diva T-shirt and blue jeans in the bag, covering the money. Then I stuffed in my old clothes, my letters and my books.
It occurred to me that I needed to buy a good bag with a lock, because now I had secrets to keep.
•
On Friday afternoon, Bea came to my house after school. It was the first time we had visited in weeks. We sat uncomfortably for a few minutes. I wanted to tell her about Dr. Kusi but I held back. Dr. Kusi had sparked the strange quarrel between Bea and me.
“Gloria, I wanted to invite you to my confirmation party two weeks Saturday,” she said.
“Where?”
“At the clubhouse,” she replied. “Two o’clock.”
“Bea, you were so nasty the other day. You
never even apologized. Then you just ignored me for weeks. I thought we were friends.”
“I said hello to you the other day.”
“But you never said sorry.”
“I did say sorry at Anansekrom, but if that wasn’t enough, then sorry,” she said at last.
I wanted to ask her why she had been so nasty but I thought better of it. Saying sorry was hard enough for Bea.
“I’m glad we’re friends again,” I said.
“Me, too,” she replied, and she raised her right hand up for a high five. It was nice to slap hands.
On Saturday I paid Faisal, and he handed me another receipt and a gift. This time it was a small handbag. Again he invited me to his club to watch basketball. I said that I was usually busy on Fridays.
“I’ll wait for you, my friend,” he said, patting my cheek. And the smile never left his face.
•
September meant that Simon had begun SSS3, his final and most important year in secondary school. The senior exams were difficult, and if Simon wanted to study engineering at the university, he’d have to work very hard to pass his exams well. F Block had not met since the show at Anansekrom. Add on the disruptions due to the rain, and we hadn’t met for weeks.
Ever since Dr. Kusi had kissed me, I wasn’t sure what to do about Simon. I liked him a lot, but Dr. Kusi made me feel different. Just thinking about him made me feel hollow in my belly.
Christine was still having arguments with JB. I prayed that they would be happy again. I prayed that I would learn to read quickly. I also prayed blessings for my family in Accra.
Thursday came around. We needed to wake up our band if it was going to live.
I dressed up and kissed Sam goodbye. I stopped by Bea’s house but no one was in so I walked up the driveway and was nearly at the main road when I heard the familiar purr of a car behind me.
My heart skipped as the red Passat stopped beside me and the dark-toned window went down smoothly into the door.