by Adwoa Badoe
“Ellen, we could both lead,” I said. “That should be fun.”
Our two voices were so much more powerful, and we found that we worked very well together.
“We should do this more often,” said Ellen happily.
I was enjoying it so much that I thought I’d ask Simon about having Ellen in our band. Bea had not practiced with us since our show at the cultural center, and she no longer attended our youth meetings.
Ellen was so direct and open. She hadn’t hidden her poor exam results but had asked for my prayers. She was going to do the exams again and was hoping to do better the next time. I never spoke of my failed exams.
When it was time to start the meeting, Osi gave the welcome and handed the microphone over to me. I called us all to stand and began to lead the praises. Soon we were lost in the wonder of the music. Sometimes I led the singing, at other times Ellen took the lead. My voice was lower and so I sang the alto parts. Ellen’s was a high soprano.
Then at six-thirty, Pastor Brown walked in with Julie, Christine and Sam. Sam was riding on Christine’s hip.
What a surprise! I would have been in so much trouble with Christine if I had gone to the hotel first, as I always arrived at church after seven o’clock.
Pastor Brown made the announcements and the introductions. We were told the meeting was a special one and that we were very fortunate to receive Dr. Julie Otoo who was going to tell us about AIDS.
Julie took the microphone. Then she greeted us, acknowledging the pastor, Christine, Sam and me. Everyone looked at me.
We listened to Julie as she began to tell us about the illness called AIDS. I wished Bea had come, too. How little we knew, I thought, as Julie explained about viruses. Without a blood test, it was impossible to tell who was infected. Anyone could have the virus if they had come in contact with infected body fluids through sex or transfusions, and not even know it.
“As we speak, some people are infecting their loved ones through sex because they don’t even know they have the HIV virus. And young people are at the greatest risk because they are sexually active and not usually in committed relationships.”
Suddenly I became afraid for my sister Effie and Bea. At least Kwabena Kusi used condoms. Besides, doctors would know better.
I learned that the virus attacked disease-fighting cells. Worst of all, there was still no cure. The medicines that could help were only to be found in Europe and North America.
“They are too expensive for Ghanaian pockets,” Julie said. “That’s the tragedy of it. But a greater tragedy is that we don’t talk about it, we don’t admit to it. People blame witches and curses when all along it is an illness that has spread because of behavior and ignorance. And what do we do once we know this? What can you do to protect yourself?”
Ellen put up her hand. “We can choose not to have sex before we marry.”
The audience stirred as people whispered one to another.
“Yes. The Bible tells you to wait till you’re married. But some people won’t wait. This is a fact. So if you must, then you have to protect yourselves by having the male wear a condom. It’s the easiest thing to do.”
I didn’t dare look at Pastor Brown. In fact, I couldn’t look at anybody. Dr. Julie tore open a plastic package and unrolled a condom sheath.
“A man wears a condom on his penis, and this protects himself and his partner from unwanted pregnancy. If the pastor’s preaching is being adhered to, you won’t need this until you marry, but just in case there are some among you struggling with sex, this is what you do or insist on.”
The room was so silent, I could hear not only mine but Simon’s breathing close at hand. We all sat there, our questions in our minds, and yet we couldn’t find the words or courage to speak up.
Christine said, “I have an idea. Why don’t you each take a piece of paper and write a question or a comment. Don’t write your name. Just place your question in the offering box when it comes to you, and Julie will answer them.”
A few people began scribbling.
“Everybody has to write something,” Julie said. “Only Sam is excluded.”
Our laughter broke the tense silence. After a few minutes Ellen took the offering bowl around.
Dr. Julie began to read the questions out aloud.
“Can you get the disease if you share the same glass with an infected person? No. But we ought to be careful of sharing the same glass because many illnesses are passed by that kind of contact.”
Julie read off another piece of paper. “Can you get the illness through tongue-to-tongue kissing?” A hum of embarrassment passed through the audience. We were not used to talking about such things in the presence of adults, especially in church. There were other questions about pregnancy and abortion — questions that I thought about sometimes and had no one to ask.
Dr. Julie answered them all.
We cheered and cheered after the speech. I was doubly proud for knowing the doctors, although I worried about what I had learned that evening.
If doctors knew this much, why had Joe got Agnes pregnant?
•
All of Kumasi turned out to celebrate with their king, the Asantehene, at the cultural center where he sat in state. Kumasi was full of splendidly dressed people. We found good seats in the shade of a large canopy because I was in the company of doctors of Komfo Anokye Hospital. Christine, Sam and I sat with Julie and Mimi in a large group of doctors.
We watched the procession of chiefs coming to greet and swear oaths to the Asantehene. We saw the dances of the queen mother’s entourage, the dances of the traditional militia and the dances of the abrafo, the king’s ceremonial executioners. There were the traditional shrine priests and priestesses dusted from head to toe in white as they performed trance-dances to the playing of the drums. I had never seen so many people in my life.
Dr. Joe and some others arrived. They were draped in all kinds of fine cloth and they went around shaking hands. I watched Kwabena Kusi from my place beside Christine. He looked grand in black-and-white Adinkra cloth, one bare shoulder exposed in a handsome manly way. Joe’s Agnes followed the men with some of the other ladies, and there was that curly-haired woman again.
I wished I could ask Bea who she was. Bea knew all the nursing students.
I heard the woman’s shrill voice, “Kwabena Kusi, mo ntwen.”
He stopped and waited for her to catch up. Right then, I began to hate her.
When they had done their round of handshaking, they came and found seats in our part of the canopy, and the conversations grew louder. Joe was talking across to Christine and Julie. Mimi was talking to Dr. Singh, a new doctor from India. I watched Agnes. She hardly exchanged any words with Joe but her friends surrounded her and they held their own conversations with much laughter.
The musicians mounted the podium late into the day. They were all there, every one of them, from the old to the young, from the traditional to the contemporary. The entire audience sang along with them. It was a day for people to fall in love. I stole glances at Kwabena Kusi. Once he smiled at me.
Then I saw Bea. She had done her hair in extensions. I was surprised how pretty she was. I wanted to call her but I was sitting with adults. Finally I asked Christine if I could go and buy Fanta for Sam. She took Sam from me and gave me some money.
Bea was radiant in white slacks and a black-and-white strappy spandex top, which showed off her slimness and curves. She stood tall on high heels, holding a white bag and laughing easily. She was standing among a large group of people, and there were foreigners among them. These were people she obviously knew well. To my surprise, I saw Faisal standing next to Bea.
“Bea,” I exclaimed.
“Hi, Glo,” she said putting her arm around me. She turned to Faisal. “See, I said she was here.”
“My friend Gloria,” Faisal said, rolling the r
of my name on his tongue. “You stay here with us?”
“I’m buying drinks for Sam.”
“I’ll go with you then,” said Bea.
We bought the drinks and returned to the canopy. Bea greeted everyone. Christine said we could go off on our own if we wanted.
“I’m sure you’d like to dance to Lord Kenya in front of the stage. Just get home by eight o’clock.”
We wandered about the grounds arm in arm and went back to join Bea’s friends.
“Sami likes me,” Bea confided about the other foreigner who was with Faisal. Sami suggested that we all go to the Lebanon Club for dinner.
“They make the finest kebabs there,” Faisal said.
In the end, six of us left for the club. I tried the different-tasting food. The Lebanese ate sugary foods. Bea and I tried beer. Then Bea followed Sami inside, leaving us in the courtyard. Faisal leaned over and put an arm around me.
“You come inside?”
I wriggled out of the circle of his arm. I had pledged my love to someone else, and Julie’s talk on AIDS was still on my mind.
“I want to go home,” I said.
“I thought we were friends,” Faisal said. “Have I not always been good to you?” His eyes did not seem as friendly as in the past. He took my hand in his and I felt the hard nail scrape against my palm. I withdrew my hand and stood up.
“I am going home.” I had never been so bold. It was already dark but I knew the area well and it wasn’t far from the doctors’ flats. Something in me felt so strong for saying no to Faisal. I wished I could have called for Bea, but I didn’t dare go inside and I was too shy to shout.
“Ah, Bea, just be careful,” I whispered to the wind.
Then, once outside the gates, I ran home.
• SEVENTEEN •
I sat down on the stairs outside our apartment and waited. The hour passed. The others were late coming, and I was sorry I had left the cultural center with Bea. Probably Christine and the doctors had gone off to eat somewhere. I brushed bloodthirsty mosquitoes away from my face.
I heard a car drive down to the carport and stop. I went out to look. It was Dr. Joe and Agnes. Agnes got out and Dr. Joe held her hand as they made their way home. They were becoming man and wife.
I was still standing in the shadows of the carport when another car came down the driveway. It sounded softer than Christine’s Corolla.
It was the red Passat. It stopped up ahead at E Block and for a while the doors remained shut. I waited to catch a glimpse of Kwabena Kusi. Perhaps I would be able to wait at his place until Christine came home.
Finally the door opened, and I watched as he went round to the other side of the car. The curly-haired woman stepped out. She was almost as tall as Kwabena Kusi. She wrapped her arm around him and kissed him on the lips, right there in the open, and he stood there and kissed her for the whole world to see.
My heart missed a beat because suddenly I heard it come back so loud and so fast. I wanted to call his name but I didn’t. I watched them go on and on as if they could not stop kissing.
I knew then that Kwabena Kusi had told me lies. Everything he had said were lies, and I had believed him.
Clinging to each other they walked away. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I watched until they disappeared into E Block. Then I sat down again, remembering the hotel, remembering Kwabena’s words and the softness of his eyes. I remembered the Chinese food, my fufu and groundnut soup and the low purring of the red car that I had come to know so well. My tears fell.
I waited and waited, but they didn’t come out. Then the lights in Kwabena Kusi’s apartment went out.
•
The Harmattan began in force the next day. I woke up under a gray blanket of dense fog that only lifted after noon, taking the chill away. There was dust in the wind, dust in my nostrils, my eyes and even my mouth if I opened it long enough. I had to oil my skin with Vaseline petroleum jelly and shea butter to keep the moisture in.
I felt angry with Kwabena Kusi. Then I felt sad. Then I felt angry with myself. I looked out for him from our balcony when I hung out the washing, or when Christine sent me out on errands. I sneaked up to his apartment twice and knocked on his door. Nobody answered and I ran back home again.
There were times I saw his Passat in the carport, but it was impossible to go out then.
Sam and I played with his puzzles and his Lego. We watched TV and cartoons but I could not concentrate on the stories. I didn’t even listen in when Christine spoke to JB.
All I wanted to do was ask Kwabena Kusi who the curly-haired woman was and why he kissed her. I felt used. I felt stupid. I felt God would never forgive me. Then I thought I deserved it all because I had disobeyed Daa. Sometimes alone in my room, I wept.
Christine asked me if I was sick.
“I miss home,” I said. I wished I could tell her about Kwabena Kusi.
“It won’t be long until we visit,” she said. “Be patient.”
I looked for Bea everywhere. She would know the woman. Bea knew everyone.
She was never home, though. She no longer came to our apartment and she didn’t come to the clubhouse anymore. I wondered if she was angry with me for leaving her at the Lebanon Club that night.
In the evenings I tried to read my books and do my grammar exercises. Christine tested me in spelling. She seemed pleased at my progress.
I missed Effie badly. She would have understood. I even tried to write her a letter, but it was difficult. I thought often of Daa and Maa. Daa had been right about steering clear of boy-matter, but he wasn’t right that boys didn’t make good friends to girls. Simon was a good friend.
The next Tuesday I was out walking with Sam when I saw Kwabena Kusi driving home. I stopped by the side of the driveway. His car stopped by me and his window came down.
“Hello, Gloria, I’ve missed you,” he said.
My heart still jumped at his words.
“On Thursday I’ll pick you up as usual, hmm?”
I stared as he waved, and slowly his car rolled on. I hadn’t been able to say a word!
I began to plan for Thursday. I rehearsed everything I wanted to say. I would tell him what I had seen that Saturday night. He would have to explain everything. He would have to choose between that woman and me.
Thursday came and all day I felt uneasy in my belly. I wore a green dress that Christine had given me. I powdered my face carefully and applied black kohl around my eyes. Then I used lip gloss to make my lips shine. I wanted to look my best.
In the evening, I set out on my way to church. I walked slowly, watching for the red Passat, but Kwabena Kusi never came. I walked all the way to the church and then I understood that I wasn’t important to Kwabena Kusi at all. It was truly over and my heart was broken.
At the church Ellen joined our band, and we began to practice Christmas songs. I wasn’t feeling well so I sat out and watched them. They laughed a lot together. Simon said our band would be performing at the youth Christmas service. I wondered if Simon liked Ellen as he had once liked me.
At home, we prepared for JB. Christine stocked the cupboards and ordered special cakes, but she didn’t buy any biscuits. She said JB would bring them from the UK, as the English made the very best biscuits of all. She stopped arguing with him on the phone. She bought a new tablecloth and new sheets. She said that we would return to Accra with JB for Christmas.
One evening, Mimi brought Christine news that Kwabena Kusi and Carla had gone to Accra. He was going to perform the customary knocking for permission to marry Carla. Perhaps their wedding would follow in January.
That was how I learned the name of the curly-haired woman and found out that she was a dentist.
That night, in my bed, I cried and cried. How did I, a house-help, compare to a woman like Carla? I felt very foolish and dirty. I hurt badly inside but
I couldn’t tell anyone about it.
Oh, how I missed Effie.
•
I worked harder than ever to keep my mind off things. I cleaned every room in the house and even scrubbed the floors. On Saturday I went to the market and cooked.
I was reading on my bed on Sunday evening when Christine called, “Gloria!”
Her tone had enough edge to have me jump out of bed. I wondered if something had happened to Sam. Christine looked sterner than I had ever seen her.
“I am missing some money. I had it in my drawer inside my wardrobe and I haven’t checked on it for at least two months. It’s English money. Pounds sterling.”
“Sistah, I haven’t seen it,” I said.
She looked me directly in the eyes for a long moment.
“I’ll look again,” she said.
“Do you want me to help you look for it?”
“No, thanks. Let’s just hope I find it.”
I returned to my room and prayed. I had taken her make-up sometimes, and her shampoo. Sometimes I spent a bit of the shopping money on sweets for Sam and me, but I had never taken money that she had not given to me.
In D4, the atmosphere turned chilly. After four hours of searching through every drawer, Christine hadn’t said a word.
I knew she suspected me. I waited till she had gone off to work the next morning and then I went to her bedroom. My intention was to take everything out of her closet and put it all back one by one. The money had to be there.
For the first time she had locked her closet. I sat on the bed and wept. Sam came up to me.
“Go-go, sssh, don’t cry,” he said.
Christine took Julie and Mimi to her bedroom when they came home after work. She must have told them about her missing money, because Julie didn’t ask me what I was making for supper, and the look Mimi gave me was grave. Christine shut the door behind her.
After a while even Sam left me and went to search for his mother. He was just tall enough to tip the door handle and open the door, but he couldn’t close it behind him. The sounds of voices wafted out.