So Much for Democracy

by Kari Jones

  We are right behind Sister Mary’s scooter at the roadblock, and when she leans toward the soldier something heavy pulls her coat pocket down, and she almost loses her balance. The soldier skips back in alarm, and Sister Mary hurries on. In the parking lot, I try to see what’s in her pocket, but it’s only when we get to the classroom that I find out Sister Mary has come to school with a snake in her coat pocket. A big snake. With a brother like Gordo, I get my fill of snakes and spiders and stuff. I thought I’d be free of them at school at least.

  When Sister Mary pulls the snake out of her pocket and holds it up, I can feel Bassam jump with excitement behind me.

  “Figures,” I say to Thema, who rolls her eyes.

  “Gather round,” says Sister Mary, and all of us scrape our chairs back and join her at the back of the classroom where there’s a glass terrarium on a table. Sister Mary holds out the snake to each of us, and several people—mostly boys, including Bassam—reach out to pet it, but when the snake head comes toward me, I pull back.

  “It’s not dangerous,” Sister Mary says.

  “Still,” I say.

  “It’s dry. Not like you’d expect.”

  I put my hand out, but as my fingers get close to its head, the snake flicks its tongue, and my fingers flit back to my side. Bassam snickers, but Sister Mary’s so focused on her snake, she doesn’t notice. I glare at Bassam.

  “I don’t think Astrid likes snakes,” says Bassam.

  As usual, my face reddens, but this time Sister Mary says, “Not everyone does,” and as soon as she turns away, I stick my tongue out at Bassam.

  “Now, we have to build a nest for the snake, so first we need newspaper to shred and some water. Astrid, Thema, you girls go to the headmistress’s office and ask for the keys to the storage cabinet.”

  “Thank you, Sister Mary,” I say, and I mean it. A bit of fresh air is what I need.

  Out on the breezeway, Thema and I take our time. A wind wafts across the playing fields, and the fresh air feels good.

  “Trust Sister Mary to do something like bring a snake to school,” says Thema.

  “Yeah,” I say, but the truth is, even if I don’t much like snakes, there’s something cool about a woman who drives around with one in her coat pocket.

  I giggle and say, “You should have seen the look on the soldier’s face at the roadblock. He looked like he thought the snake was about to bite him!”

  Thema and I are still laughing when the door opens and the headmistress walks out of her office.

  “Girls,” she says.

  “Good morning, Miss,” we chant, trying to hide our laughter.

  “Did Sister Mary send you?”

  “We’re to ask for the key to the storage cabinet,” Thema says.

  “Is this for the snake?”

  “Yes, Miss,” I say.

  “All right, come in.” She walks back into her office and beckons for me and Thema to follow. I’ve never been in her office before, and I can tell by how closely Thema crowds behind me that she’s as nervous as I am.

  The phone rings, which startles all of us, since the phones seldom work, and we stare at it for a minute before the headmistress says, “Excuse me for a moment, please” and picks up the receiver. She waves at two seats, and Thema and I sit down.

  It seems rude to listen to her on the phone, so Thema and I both lean in to the radio that sits on a small table between the two chairs. As we listen, the music is interrupted by a man’s voice. He speaks in Twi, so I have to ask Thema, “What’s he saying?”

  “Jerry Rawlings’ trial will be broadcast on this station,” Thema says. “He’s the man who led the coup.”

  Miss covers the phone receiver with her hand and listens too. When the man’s done and the music comes back on, she shakes her head before she says goodbye to the caller and hangs up.

  “What do you think it means?” asks Thema.

  “It means this is not over yet,” says Miss. She stands up and walks to the window. Her answer is not a surprise to me. Something in the way my dad and Thema’s dad have been talking makes me think they don’t believe it’s over either, even if they keep saying it is.

  “Miss?”

  “Yes, Astrid.”

  I’m not sure what I want to ask, so I say, “Could it happen again? I mean, could someone else try to take over the government?”

  Miss sits down again. She stares out the window and I think she’s not going to answer, but then she says, “It could happen.”

  “How come, Miss?”

  “Because life has been hard for Ghanaians for a long time now. Many people are looking for something new. They want to be able to buy food in the stores and have good job opportunities for their kids and be able to live in nice houses.”

  “My dad says Rawlings’s timing is bad because of the elections coming up,” I say.

  “You can’t expect everyone to agree, Astrid.”

  “What do you think, Miss?” asks Thema.

  “I agree with Astrid’s father about the timing. I don’t know why anyone would want to interrupt things now.”

  She reaches into a drawer in her desk, then stands up and hands the key to me.

  I’m quiet as I take it from her, but when she says, “What is it, Astrid?” I say, “I hope it doesn’t happen. I mean, I hope no one else tries to have a coup.” My voice is small, because I realize as I speak that this is what has been sitting in the back of my brain. This is why no one is telling us anything. They’re scared it will happen again.

  Again, Miss stares out the window like she hasn’t heard me. Then she says, “It’s a mistake to broadcast this trial. I won’t be too surprised if there is some unrest after that.”

  “What do you mean, unrest?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not sure what I mean. These are uncertain times for Ghana. Let’s hope I’m mistaken and the elections go ahead as planned.” She opens the office door and motions for me and Thema to leave.

  “Thank you, Miss,” I say as Thema and I walk past her.

  “You’re welcome, girls,” she says.

  Out in the breezeway, Thema says, “She’s nicer than I thought.”

  I nod. She is nicer than I expected, and she’s the only person who’s taken me seriously. But she hasn’t put my mind at ease at all. Not at all.

  ELEVEN

  The house is in an uproar when we get home from school. Mom hardly glances at us when we walk into the house. She’s in the living room searching for something. The strap of her tank top has fallen across her arm, and her hair’s coming loose from its elastic.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “I can’t find Piper,” she says. She moves so fast, her voice trails her. The living room looks like dogs have been fighting in it. Furniture is turned over. Cushions are on the floor. She’s even managed to move the big potted palm from its corner. There’s a strong smell of earth in the room from some of it spilling out of the pot.

  “Mom, calm down. She’s probably fallen asleep somewhere. It’s so hot. Have you looked in her room?” I speak slowly. I thought she was getting better. Seeing her like this again is scary.

  “I’ve looked everywhere,” she says, and this time her words are more like sobs. This isn’t just Mom panicking because she hasn’t seen Piper for a few minutes. Her eyes are red, her mouth, a tight line. My chest constricts and I have to take a deep breath before I say, “Mom, slow down. Where have you looked? Have you tried the yard?”

  “I’ve looked everywhere,” she says as she tugs at the curtains.

  “Mom, Mom, slow down. She’s not hiding behind the curtains. Tell me where you’ve looked.” I try to sound calm, but the scent of her panic is sharp, and it makes my voice catch. She doesn’t slow down, and she doesn’t answer, and it hits me that Piper might really be missing.

  “Gordo and I will help,” I say. Gordo hasn’t said anything, but his face is white, and he’s shaking.

  “It’s okay, Gordo, we’ll find her,” I s
ay. He nods, but I can tell he’s biting back tears. He slides his hand into mine, and his palm is slick with sweat. That freaks me out. Gordo the daredevil is scared. The possibilities flood into me, and I too feel tears bombard my eyes.

  “Go check the yard,” I say to Gordo, mostly to get him away from Mom’s panic. He stares at me with wide eyes, but then lets go of my hand and rushes out the door. I follow him outside. Somewhere through my fear the thought comes that if Piper’s in the house, she’s probably okay, so I’ll let Mom look there. If she’s outside… I don’t want to finish that thought. Suddenly all the dangers Mom’s always going on about seem real, and I imagine spiders and biting ants and cobras and pythons and murderous germs everywhere.

  Thomas is washing the car, but he stops when Gordo and I run out of the house.

  “What’s the matter?” asks Thomas.

  “Piper’s missing,” I say.

  He creases his forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do you mean?”

  “Abena took her shopping. They’re down the street. Your mother didn’t tell you?” says Thomas.

  The relief floods over me. “Oh,” I say.

  Gordo flushes red, then laughs a crazy-edged laugh. “I’ll go tell Mom,” he says. He’s about to run into the house, but Thomas says, “Your mom already knows.”

  “She does?” I say. The flooding of relief in my veins is replaced by something else. Something prickly. Fear. Gordo looks at me with big eyes.

  “She must. I’m sure Abena told her,” says Thomas.

  “Oh,” I say again. Maybe Abena didn’t tell her. Maybe Mom hasn’t totally lost her marbles. Maybe she really doesn’t know where Piper is.

  “Gordo, you go in and tell Mom, and I’ll run down and get Abena and Piper,” I say, and then I dash down the drive.

  Abena isn’t far down the street, so when I call, “Abena, Abena,” she waves and points me out to Piper, who grins broadly and waves too. My heart bounces in my chest at the sight of Piper happily waving.

  She’s okay.

  Really okay.

  I’m hardly halfway to them when Mom tears past me, with Gordo close behind. The three of us race to Piper, and when Mom gets there she grabs Piper right out of Abena’s arms and hugs her so tightly that Piper cries.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Mom says to Abena. Her voice has a roughness I’ve never heard.

  Abena says, “What did I do, Mrs. Johnson?”

  “What did you do? You took off with Piper and I didn’t know where she was. Anything could have happened to her. She could have been stung by something or fallen into a ditch or been swallowed by a snake or kidnapped or who knows what!” Mom’s voice is hoarse.

  Abena looks shaky, and she says, “Mrs. Johnson, I thought you knew she was with me.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Mom stares at Abena, and Gordo and I stand together and hold our breath.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson, I did tell you,” says Abena, looking at the ground.

  “My husband will hear about this,” says Mom, and she spins around and walks back to the house with Piper. Gordo and I don’t move. It’s like we’re stuck to the ground, and we don’t know what to do until Abena picks up a basket lying at her feet and places it on her head, then slowly walks back to the house. Gordo slips his hand into mine. His fingers are cold. I grasp them tightly and we follow Abena.

  That evening after dinner, when I’m supposed to be in my room doing homework, I walk down the stairs to get a glass of water from the fridge and overhear Mom and Dad talking to Abena. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell their voices are raised. Just as I’m about to turn around and go back upstairs, Abena walks out of the kitchen. She’s crying. I run into the stairwell and hold my breath until she passes.

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the face. I’m not sure if I feel worse for Abena, for being yelled at for something she didn’t do, or for Mom, for being so upset about something that didn’t happen.

  Mom and Dad come out of the kitchen a second later. I stay still because I hear Dad saying, “We’ll keep the kids close, Joanne. I won’t let anything happen to them.”

  “Can you promise that?” Mom says.

  There’s silence, and then Dad sighs. “Of course not, Joanne. But…” He doesn’t finish.

  “I don’t want them going anywhere. Anywhere at all. At least here we have walls and a phone—some of the time,” Mom says.

  “Joanne, the man’s in jail. What can he do?” asks Dad.

  Mom storms away, leaving me and Dad standing on opposite sides of a wall.

  TWELVE

  Dad drives me and Gordo and Piper to Thema’s house on Sunday morning.

  “Aren’t we going to the beach?” asks Gordo. Sunday is our usual beach day.

  “Not today.”

  When Gordo starts to object, Dad snaps, “Not today, Gordo.”

  “Shut up, Gordo,” I say. Gordo’s too young to understand, but I know Dad is trying to let Mom have some time to calm down after what happened on Friday. Yesterday he made us both be quiet all day, and today he’s getting us even more out of her way.

  There are four parcels on the kitchen table at Thema’s house when we walk in. Thema hovers around them, and as soon as we come into the room, she says, “Mine,” picking one up and shaking it softly next to her ear.

  “What are they?” I ask.

  “Packages from Aunt Louise in London,” she says.

  “More?” I ask. I sure wish Aunt Alice would send packages like she said she would.

  Thema unwraps the parcel slowly, like she wants to savor each moment. She picks off the tape and unbinds the string, then folds back the brown paper. I want to reach out and tear it away, so I sit on my hands to keep them still. When she finally gets the cardboard box open, we both lean forward to see what’s inside.

  “Books!” I say. I can’t help myself. I reach into the box and slide the books over so I can read the titles. “Thema, look—she sent it.”

  “Yay,” she says, and she pulls The Last Battle out of the box. It’s the final one in the Chronicles of Narnia series, and both Thema and I are dying to read it. There are also sheets of music, including a whole book of Donna Summer songs.

  Ebo comes into the room and says, “Hey, what did she send me?” He grabs his box and tears off the string and paper. Inside are two polo shirts, five chocolate bars and some books on soccer and animals.

  “Cool,” says Ebo, holding up the chocolate.

  “Oh, did she send some for me?” asks Thema. She digs around in her box, but apart from the books and sheet music, there’s only a blouse and a skirt, both of which she pushes aside. “No chocolate,” she says, disappointed.

  Ebo unwraps one of his chocolate bars. It has melted a bit in the heat but still looks delicious. He breaks it into pieces. “What will you do for me if I give you some?” he asks.

  “Give me a piece,” Thema says.

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t have to do anything. Give me one piece.” She puts out her hand, but Ebo raises the chocolate above his head, where she can’t reach it.

  “Ebo…I’ll tell Mom.” Thema’s voice is almost whining, she wants that chocolate so much.

  Ebo pops a piece into his mouth. “Ummm…” he says, and he smacks his lips.

  “Mom,” yells Thema.

  Ebo laughs and offers us both a piece of chocolate.

  “No thanks,” I say, but he says, “Oh go on. I was always going to give you some. I just like to tease Thema.”

  The chocolate is rich and creamy. I can’t remember the last time I ate some, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.

  “This is delicious,” I say.

  “Of course. It’s made with Ghanaian cocoa beans,” says Ebo.

  “Do you want to borrow a book?” Thema asks me.

  “Can I?” Something new to read! I want The Last Battle, but I know Thema hasn’t read it yet, so instead I choose Watershi
p Down. I’ve heard it’s good.

  “You can read The Last Battle as soon as I’m done,” says Thema.

  Thema’s mom comes in and opens her package. It’s full of boring stuff like Band-Aids and toothpaste, but she smiles and laughs at everything she opens, and she seems as happy with her box as Thema and Ebo are with theirs. It makes me wonder what Mom would want in a package if Aunt Alice ever got around to sending one. I know what I want. Books and tapes. Gordo wants more marbles and toy soldiers and Archie comics, and Piper would be happy with anything. Dad grumbles about not getting newspapers until they’re out of date, but Mom never talks about what she misses.

  Ebo and Gordo go off to Ebo’s room to poke at a spider Ebo has found. Even though Ebo’s fifteen and Gordo’s only ten, they really get along. It’s because they both like to stare and prod at insects and other gross stuff. Thema and I get as far away from them as we can when they’re doing that. Today we have Piper with us, so Thema and I take her outside and sit under a tree. I scan the area for anthills and other possible dangers before I let her down on the ground.

  “Let’s make her a swing,” says Thema.

  “Out of what?”

  “How about an old tire?” says Thema. “Or a plank of wood.”

  It’s a great idea, and I make a mental note to remember to ask Thomas for something to make a swing out of at home.

  “Let’s ask Kofi for help,” says Thema, and she skips off across the courtyard to find their gardener. Piper and I follow more slowly, and we find Thema already explaining to Kofi what she wants. She speaks in Twi, but I can tell what she’s saying by her gestures. Kofi smiles and pats Piper’s head and strokes her cheek. She giggles, as usual, and Kofi’s smile grows even bigger.

  “I have a better idea,” says Kofi in English. “Follow me.”

  He leads us behind the houses to where the washtubs and drying racks are. At the back, by the garden wall, there’s a heap of stuff. He pushes aside badminton rackets, a volleyball net and some cricket bats and pulls out a rope hammock.

  “Perfect!” I say.

  “How will we hang it?” asks Thema as she takes it from him.