So Much for Democracy

by Kari Jones

  When Thomas arrives, he laughs at me. “We’ll make a Ghanaian of you yet,” he says, pointing at my sweater. There are clouds in the sky. They glower over the sun and bring the temperature down a bit.

  As usual, Thomas walks to the side of the house, unlocks the tool shed, takes off his toque and jacket, and gathers his rake and shovel and radio before heading to the kitchen door to ask Abena for a cup of tea. He fiddles with the radio dial until the station comes in clearly, and when it does, he stops and turns up the volume.

  “The ranks have just got me out of my cell. In other words, the ranks have just taken over the destiny of this country.”

  “Who’s that?” I ask, but Thomas puts his hand up to silence me.

  “Fellow officers, if we are to avoid any bloodshed, I plead with you not to attempt to stand in their way because they are full of malice. Hatred—hatred we have forced into them through all these years of suppression.”

  The voice stops and the radio goes to static.

  “Yes,” shouts Thomas, and he kicks his foot into the air karate-style.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Rawlings! His men have released him from jail. He’s taken over the government. Yes!” Thomas’s face shines with excitement.

  I’m confused. How can this be? Wasn’t he in jail, waiting to be executed for trying to take over the government? Thomas laughs and gives the frangipani leaves high fives.

  Abena opens the door and comes out smiling. She and Thomas hug each other and smile and she cries and they hug some more. Then they both laugh.

  It’s strange to see Thomas and Abena like this. I thought Abena would be mad that Rawlings has taken over the government, but she doesn’t seem to be. Then I remember the evening we spent at Thema’s house the first time Rawlings tried to take over the government, and how serious all the adults were. I bite my lip.

  What does this mean? Dad didn’t seem happy then.

  The day seems darker, even though Thomas and Abena are laughing and dancing around each other. I leave them to go and find Dad. I need to talk to him.

  As I enter the kitchen, Mom walks in and says, “You’re not going to school this morning.” I stop and consider what she’s said. The darkness of the day seems even heavier, because if we’re not going to school, it means she thinks we’re in danger. Then again…this is Mom.

  “Gordo’s sick, and I need you to take care of Piper,” she says as she opens the fridge door and looks in.

  So this has nothing to do with Rawlings being released from jail and taking over the government.

  She closes the fridge door without taking anything out and marches out of the kitchen.

  “Wait, Mom,” I call as I run to catch up with her. “Where’s Dad?” But she doesn’t even slow her stride and takes the stairs two at a time. She almost runs down the hall and into Gordo’s room. Dad’s there already. He’s dressed for work, but he looks rumpled. He sits on the edge of Gordo’s bed and strokes Gordo’s forehead. He looks at Gordo like he wants to cry but is somehow keeping his eyes from knowing what his brain is thinking. He whispers something to Gordo that I can’t hear.

  Dad stands and lets Mom sit down, then leans across her to stroke Gordo’s forehead one more time.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can,” he says to Mom. She doesn’t move as he leaves the room.

  “Dad,” I say as he walks past me.

  “What?”

  “Rawlings—” I say, but Dad puts his finger on his lips and pulls me out of the room.

  “I know, Astrid.” He stares back into Gordo’s room as I wait for him to say something else, but he just shrugs and says, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  I remember how frightened Mom looked the last time I heard Dad say those words, and now I understand, because I don’t believe him.

  Not at all.

  “Dad,” I say, but he’s not listening. He pats me on the head like I’m a little kid and strides away.

  I spend the rest of the day watching Piper and listening to the radio with Thomas. Whenever he comes back to the hammock, where Piper and I sit, I ask him, “What’s happening now?”

  “They’ve captured General Akuffo,” he says the first time.

  “They’ve taken over Broadcast House,” he says the next time.

  “They’re calling on the soldiers to keep calm,” he says the third time.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. It all seems like it’s taking place in a different country, because at the end of the driveway, goats still graze and people walk past like nothing’s is happening.

  “They say it’s crazy downtown,” says Thomas.

  “Oh,” I say. Dad’s office is downtown. He must have driven right past all the soldiers. The darkness of the day closes in.

  I pick up Piper and go inside to see if maybe Dad’s phoned to say he’s okay. Mom’s still in Gordo’s room, sitting in the same place she was when I last saw her.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, but she puts her finger on her lips and points to Gordo, who’s sleeping. I sit next to her and pass Piper over, but she doesn’t take Piper from me. Instead, she leans over and strokes Gordo’s face.

  Piper crawls to the floor to play with Gordo’s toy soldiers, but I scoop her up again before she does something dangerous like put one in her mouth. Mom doesn’t say anything.

  “Did Dad call?” I ask.

  “No. Why?” she says.

  I open my mouth to tell her about Rawlings and what’s happened, then close it again. She’s so distracted by Gordo, she wouldn’t hear me anyway.

  “Get me a cool cloth. Quick,” she says, and she leans over and fusses with his sheet.

  “Mom,” I say.

  “Quick,” she says, so I take Piper and run to the bathroom, where I pour cold water onto a cloth.

  “Is this tap water?” she asks when I hand it to her, and she thrusts it back at me when I nod. “There’s some water Abena boiled in a bowl in the hallway. Use that,” she says.

  My eyes blur as I take a clean cloth from the pile in the hallway and soak it in the bowl of water.

  I take the cloth back to her and say, “Piper and I will be downstairs if you need us” as I leave the room.

  Later in the afternoon when a car comes into the driveway, I rush outside, but it’s not Dad. Thomas is there, and the man driving the car says something to him in Twi that I don’t understand.

  “Astrid, this is Peter. Your dad sent him to take me and Abena home,” Thomas says. “Will you get Abena?”

  “But why?” I ask.

  Peter seems impatient to go, and he’s already getting back into the driver’s seat, but Thomas says, “Remember I said they were calling on the soldiers to keep calm?”

  I nod.

  “Some of them are not listening. There’s been some shooting in town, and your dad thinks we may have trouble getting home, so he sent a car to make sure we get across the city safely. It was very kind of him.”

  My breath comes sharply, but Thomas says, “It’s okay, Asteroid. We know the back ways—we’ll be fine.”

  “Do you have to go?” I ask. I don’t want to be left alone with Mom and Gordo.

  Thomas walks around the car and puts his arm across my shoulder, “Astrid, you will be fine here. Everything will be fine. But I have to go and make sure Esi’s okay. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say. I understand. I do. But as Abena gets ready to leave, and as she and Thomas drive away, I wrap my arms around myself and try not to shiver. Piper’s a heavy burden today, so I take her to the living room, where she can play on the floor and I won’t have to worry about her. She plays with the blocks no one remembered to put away, and I sit on the sofa and stare out the window. Every time I hear a car drive past, I start, and it seems like hours before Dad’s car finally turns into the driveway. I scoop up Piper and run outside so fast, we collide with Dad as he opens the door.

  “Whoa,” he says as we right ourselves.

  “Dad.�
� I want to say his name and hug him, and I don’t care that my voice catches and I start to cry. Dad puts his arms around me and Piper and squeezes, and we stay that way until Piper squirms to be released.

  “How’s Gordo?” he asks when we let go.

  “Not…” I’m still crying and my voice squeaks, so I try again. “Not good.”

  “And your mom?”

  I shake my head.

  Dad frowns. “The car came for Thomas and Abena?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he says, and I want to say, No, not good, because I’ve been alone all afternoon waiting for you and because I don’t know who to worry about more, you or Gordo or Mom.

  Dad hugs me again, and I say, “What was it like?” instead.

  “Fine. It was okay. Things are under control. I spent most of the day making sure all the staff were safe. And now I should go inside and check on Gordo and your mom.” He squares his shoulders like he’s bracing himself. “What have you told her?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s been a hard day, hasn’t it, Astrid?”

  I nod, because I can’t talk.

  “I think…I think we won’t tell her yet that there’s been a coup. That Rawlings was successful this time. We’ll let her focus on Gordo for now,” he says.

  He smiles at me then and takes my hand. “Let’s go check on them, okay?”

  Together, we walk up the stairs. I’m glad he’s home safe, and I’m happy we’re holding hands and walking together, but I can’t understand why Mom gets to be the person with only one thing to worry about.

  FIFTEEN

  Gordo’s worse in the morning. Mom hasn’t moved from his bedside for at least twenty-four hours. Twice in the night I woke up and heard her voice in Gordo’s room. The first time, she was singing. The second time, she was crying. Now she sits there mopping his forehead with a cool cloth and feeding him Aspirin and saying over and over, “We should never have come. Look at what’s happened, Richard. We should never have come.”

  Dad stands in the doorway, chewing his lip. Every time Mom says that, he shrinks a little.

  I nose my head under Dad’s elbow and wrap my arms around him. I’m so tired and hot, my fingers and toes feel like sausages. Dad’s slippery with sweat, and it stinks on him, but it’s comforting to lay my head against his chest, so I stay there.

  Gordo groans, and Mom whimpers and smooths his forehead again. “Richard, you have to take him,” she says.

  “Joanne, the streets are not safe. I’ve told you that. Besides, who knows if the clinic is even open?” he says.

  Mom sits up straight and looks Dad right in the eye. They stare at each other like they’re having a battle, and then she says, “If he dies, Richard, it will be your fault.”

  Both Dad and I gasp and stiffen. He pulls away from me and walks down the hallway. When he reaches his room, he slams the door. He’s gone to change—I know it. He’s going to take Gordo to the clinic, and it will be Mom’s fault if something happens to them.

  It will be Mom’s fault.

  I stand paralyzed in the doorway, staring at Mom. My face reddens slowly as her words sink in, but her eyes are blank. It’s like I’m not there at all. It’s like she’s not there either. She turns away from me and bends down to Gordo again.

  I don’t think. I run to my room and grab the first T-shirt I see lying on the floor, then pull on a pair of underwear and some shorts. I’m back in the hallway before Dad is. He comes out of his room fully dressed and marches to Gordo’s room. He scoops Gordo out of bed and carries him across the room. I follow him down the stairs, out the front door and to the car. I open the car door and help him settle Gordo in the back seat, but Gordo’s too sick to sit up and slumps over, and we can’t get his seat belt on. Dad stands and runs his hands through his hair. The sound he makes is like a dog growling. I slide into the car next to Gordo, shoving him over so he’s sitting up, then let him lean into me when he falls over.

  “No, Astrid, no,” says Dad when he sees I’m planning to go with him.

  “How else are you going to get there?” I ask. “It’s not like we can phone an ambulance or something.”

  He punches the car roof a few times and then, without saying anything else, spins around and marches into the house. When he returns a couple of minutes later, I ask, “Did you tell Mom we’re going?”

  He nods.

  “What did she say?”

  He scrunches his eyebrows and doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens the door and gets in behind the wheel. “We’re turning around at the first sign of trouble,” he says.

  “Good,” I say.

  Dad noses the car out of the driveway and races down the street. He’s driving way too fast, and when he turns left I almost fall over Gordo.

  “Dad, slow down,” I say. My arm’s already aching from holding Gordo’s head up.

  Dad glances back at us, then slows the car. We drive along in silence for a while, and to avoid seeing Gordo’s slack face, I look out the window.

  There are so many people walking, even though it’s early.

  Gordo groans and shifts, and his arm falls across mine. It’s so hot it feels like sunbaked clay, and I want to move my arm away, but if I do he’ll fall over, so instead I blink back tears and sit still. All I can feel is the heat on my arm.

  “How far now?” I ask Dad.

  “Soon,” he says, but that seems to jinx things, because as soon as he says it, we turn a corner and there’s a crowd of people blocking the street.

  I stiffen but then notice that these are regular people, not soldiers, and they seem to be laughing and talking. Dad honks the horn, but no one moves, and we’re driving so slowly, we’re hardly moving at all. Dad throws his arm across the seat and looks over his shoulder, intending to back the car up, but the crowd has closed in behind us.

  “Shit,” he says.

  “What now?” I ask. I try to keep my voice even, but the heat of Gordo’s arm sears into me.

  Dad honks again and a few people move out of the way, but not enough to let us get anywhere. Dad turns on the car radio, but, like yesterday, there’s nothing but military marches, and he turns it off again.

  Someone bangs on the hood of the car, and Dad unrolls the window. I hold my breath as Dad says, “Hey, what’s going on?”

  The man slaps the hood again and laughs and says, “Rawlings is coming. He’s taken over the government, and he’s coming to talk to the people.”

  “Ah…” says Dad.

  “Rawlings? Here?” My voice gives away how scared that thought makes me, but Dad says “Shhh” and leans out the window.

  “My son’s sick. I need to get to the clinic,” he says.

  “The way is blocked to the ring road,” the man says.

  I’m amazed at how Dad keeps his cool, because he says, “Thank you” before he rolls the window back up, but then it’s like someone has punctured a balloon. He slumps in his seat, and his head falls back against the headrest.

  “What are we going to do?!” I wail. I can’t help it. Gordo’s so hot, he’s taking up all the oxygen in the car. The air-conditioning isn’t enough to cool him down. And now Rawlings is coming. Here.

  Dad takes a deep breath, then says, “Get out, Astrid. We’re going to walk.”

  “What?” We’re in the middle of the street. What about the soldiers, and Rawlings?

  “Get out.” Dad’s voice is like iron, and I know there’s no point in arguing. A deep shiver runs down my back.

  Dad pulls the car close to the side of the road and we get out.

  “Stay with me, Astrid. Stick close.”

  Dad strides quickly through the crowd, carrying Gordo like a baby, and I have to run to keep up. But he’s easy to follow, and for the first time in my life I’m glad of our blond hair. At first people jostle us as we go, but Dad keeps shouting that he’s trying to get to the clinic, and soon people move out of the way and a narrow path clears for
us. Dad picks up his pace, and the three of us race along.

  It’s a long way to the clinic. We come to a group of people fighting with soldiers. Men shout, and soldiers wave guns. My throat swells in fear, and I choke. I jump right to Dad’s side, but he doesn’t slow down. We’re so deep in the crowd, we have no choice but to continue. I swallow hard and chant in my head, The clinic for Gordo, the clinic for Gordo.

  We race past, and the fighters take no notice of us.

  When we reach the clinic at last, Dad staggers up the steps to the verandah and sinks into a chair. Sweat pours down his face.

  “Do we have an appointment?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

  He shakes his head.

  Of course, I think. Stupid question. How could we have an appointment when the phones aren’t working?

  Dad shifts Gordo so he lies with his bum on the chair and his head in my lap. “I’ll be right back,” Dad says, and he disappears inside the building.

  Gordo’s head feels like a bomb in my lap; I hardly dare to move or even breathe. Two women with small children are also waiting on the verandah. The kids stare at me. One of the women says something to me, and I know I should understand what she says, I know I should say something back, but I can’t summon the energy to do anything at all, so I close my eyes to hold back the tears, even though I know I’m being rude.

  Gordo and I stay like that until a hand on my shoulder wakes me, and a smiling woman hands me a glass of water.

  “Oh…” I say, confused.

  “Drink up,” says the woman.

  I don’t know what to do, but she smiles even more and says, “It’s purified water. Drink it,” so I take it from her and sip. It’s cold and fresh and the most wonderful thing in the world. I drink the whole glass.

  “Feel better?” she asks.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I struggle to sit straighter in the chair, and it’s only then that I notice the woman is holding a cloth to Gordo’s forehead.