SECRETS (I)

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Prep was over, but Naa Yemoley was still studying. She claimed she had a lot of catching up to do, but she was the best student in 3 Business 2. It had been two hours since Prep ended and all the students had retired to bed. The bell for lights out had long gone off, but the Prefects in Fantsefo High were too lazy to make rounds, plus being a senior, she knew she was safe. She had to learn for the upcoming WASSCE and make her family proud. She was not alone in the classroom, however.

In the farthest corner of the classroom, Priscilla Dwamina sat on Ekow Sakyi’s lap as he whispered into her ear. Every five minutes, she would giggle and sensually call out his name. Ekow’s phone rang and the tune to Shatta Wale’s “Kakai” echoed through the room. The use of mobile phones was illegal but in Fantsefo Senior High School, the rules were just a written document . Besides, Ekow was twice the size of any Prefect and would pummel him or her to the ground in a heartbeat should any confrontation occur. The main authorities of the school hardly cared. If the prefects did not see it, neither did they.

Ekow picked up the call.

“Yo Joojo, waguan?”  

Naa’s ears perked up when she heard her boyfriend’s name.

“Wedge, slow down, rewind, what you dey talk? You do what? Man! Stay there I dey come!”

Naa could hear fragments of Joojo’s voice on the other side of the line. His voice was strained. She stared at Ekow worriedly but his face gave nothing away except a short flicker of worry which she almost missed in his eyes.

“What is it?”

Priscilla asked, clearly annoyed. It was obvious she hadn’t appreciated the interruption.

“Joojo is in trouble,”

Ekow said as calmly as he could, but he sounded like he was sitting on pins.

“Don’t tell me Papa Mungi caught him messing with his chickens again.”

Naa laughed. She hoped it was a trivial matter. Papa Mungi was the school’s most wicked teacher and he kept five hens as his pets. Most of the boys stole the eggs they lay but woe unto you, should Mr. Julius Mungi catch you! You would be as good as dead. He would call you a murderer and punish you till he was “compensated enough” , usually that was weeks.

Most students believed the Mathematics teacher had trouble upstairs.

“No, it’s not Papa Mungi. It’s Sir Fii, Naa I don’t have time to answer questions. Joojo needs us let’s go. We will talk on the way.”

“Okay.”

Naa shut her books and locked them in the desk.

“What , No!”

Priscilla interjected.

“What is it?”

Ekow asked .

“I am not going to the teacher’s bungalow at almost midnight. It’s against the rules.”

“Oh, and making out with me after lights out isn’t?”

Ekow cockily asked.

“We will be back before you know it. We have unfinished business.”

He winked at her and she giggled.

“Why should I help Joojo?

he is nothing but a trouble maker.” Priscilla huffed.

“Joojo is our friend. Ekow we should get going if we want to dodge the security man.”

The three of them left the class room in the dead of the night- confused as to what was going on. They reached the male teacher’s bungalow. This one was for the National Service Personnel and so was a bit secluded from the school. The place was quiet probably because the teachers had gone for their usual Friday Night party. They climbed the stairs hurriedly and were soon at Bungalow Number 49. Even before they could knock ,Joojo opened Sir Fii’s door. Sir Fii was Joojo and Priscilla’s chemistry teacher. They were Science students while she and Ekow were Business students. Mr. Fiifi Bayels was one of the most handsome teachers in the school, and all the females, especially students, never stopped hitting on him. Joojo looked disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he was on the verge of tears. He looked distressed. So many questions were running through Naa’s mind but the most prominent among them was What he was doing at Sir Fii’s apartment at that time.

“Babe.”

Joojo breathed as Naa briefly hugged him.

“What is going on?” Naa asked.

“I messed up,”

Was all he said.

“What did you do?”

Priscilla asked. That was when they saw a figure shift behind Joojo.

“Jeremy? What you dey do for here?”

Ekow asked.

“I thought you broke up with him.”

Priscilla said.

“You sneaky little…” “

It was an accident. It all happened so fast. I…”

Jeremy begun sobbing and Joojo gathered her in his arms and consoled her. Jeremy was one of their friends too but she was in the General Arts class. Everyone knew she was hitting on Sir Fii, but as to what was going on, they were clueless.

“Broke up with who? Please somebody tell me what is going on…”

Naa cried, that was when she saw.

“Jesus Christ!”

Behind Joojo and Jeremy, someone lay on the floor not moving. Naa rushed to the body. It was Mr. Bayels.

“Joojo Adu Quagrine, start talking. Why is your chemistry teacher lying in his living room naked and not breathing, why is Jeremy in just a cloth?and what are we doing here? We should leave before Sir Fii wakes up , I don’t want any trouble.”

Naa said, still kneeling by the teacher’s body.

“I don’t think that is going to happen.”

Joojo stated.

“ Why?”

“Because He is dead.”

Jeremy sobbed.

“Yesu! Joojo you killed him, you ………Yehowa! Ataa Naa Nyumo eeeee.”

Naa cried.

“Naa keep it down. You will call attention to us. It was an accident. You guys should come in.”

“That’s why I need your help. Nobody can know about this. We need to get rid of the body.”

“Get rid of…Do you hear yourself? You sound like a serial killer. We need to alert the authorities. Maybe you will be willing to tell them what really went on since you aren’t talking.”

“No!”

Both Jeremy and Joojo whisper-yelled.

“No?”

Naa asked frantically.

“That is the right thing to do.”

“No , that is a stupid thing to do.”

Priscilla said.

“If we alert the authorities we are all going to jail. Ghana police won’t dig to the bottom. Considering who this man’s father is, we have a one-way ticket to Nsawam.”

Mr.Fiif Bayels’ father was currently the flag bearer of one the political parties in Ghana.

“We can’t afford for that to happen.”

Priscilla continued.

“We need to do something.”

“I have an idea.”

Ekow said. Naa looked at her friends as if they had grown a pair of horns each. They were about to cover up a murder or what ever that was. She was in the same room with a dead body. How did she get there?

“Priscilla, grab the skipping rope on the centre table, Jeremy, I need you to forge his hand writing like you did the last time. Write exactly what I say. Joojo help me move the body downstairs. Naa , be on the look out.”

“What are we going to do?”

Naa asked. She was scared to death.

“We are going to stage a suicide.”

 

Naa stared at the mail that had popped up on the laptop. Fantsifo High, class of 2011, was having a school reunion. It had been five years since she saw any of her friends or her mates. They were going to spend the whole Easter at the Rana Plazza Hotel. She had not contacted any of them for a reason. There are some memories you keep buried. Life after five years had been great. She had a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration from the University of Ghana, Legon. She was done with her National Service too, and had been retaoned by the bank she served at, as a permanent employer. She even had her own apartment now. Reunion?

She sighed and hit the delete button.

The City Girl [Aaaand its a wrap!]

1

My dreams followed the same pattern lately.

Adobeee-a, Adobeee-a, what happened to you in the Tent of Incense Fire?

Always in the mocking, childlike tones of the black butterfly.

What happened in that one night that was ten days long? What did the greys show you, what exactly did they do to you? Shall I guess?

*

So this is what the city looks like up close. Crowded streets, crowded alleys, crowded marketplaces, crowded air heavy with voices and perfume and less pleasant odours, the odours and sounds of too many people with lives piled on top of one another. No goodtrees. Constant movement. No cabins, but buildings of adobe, stone, concrete, glazed brick and glass. Brightly lit pavilions. Quaint summer huts. Continue reading

A FAIR TRADE- FINAL PART

1‘Yes, it’s what I want,’ Adobea answered in steady calm. She had no reason to fret over the decision she was making, because as she saw it, she had no other choice. Perhaps she had never really belonged in the goodforest, this place that she no longer understood, with its twisting lie-lie paths and grey secrets.

‘And in return, you offer me your gift of healing,’ the Old Bat said. She was different at the Exchange Table, sombre and intense, her eyes piercing points of black, her voice low and heavy. ‘You propose to give it up entirely, to strip yourself of your identity as a healer.’ Continue reading

FINAL FLING 4

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“Who?” He asked. “If I answer that you’ll have only 4 questions left to ask me,” she gave him a sweet look. Yaw laughed again.

“Ok why do you think there’s a story there?” he asked Owusua. “I caught the look you gave her.”

Yaw sighed and said, “Let’s talk on the ride home ok? I don’t want to get you home late.”

She looked expectantly at him when he started the car. Yaw kept his eyes in the road.  “She’s my cousin’s ex-wife.”

Owusua blinked. “Ok, so I wouldn’t have guessed that, what’s the problem then?”

“They got a divorce after she told him about an affair she had last year”

He pulled up in front of her gate. She made no move to get out. Yaw sighed, “the affair was with me.”

“Wow. Does your cousin know?”

“No” Owusua smiled slyly, “Mr. Chivalrous adventurer.” He looked embarrassed.

“It’s not like that.” Owusua winked and got out.

“Let’s talk when you  get home!”

*************

“His cousin’s wife?”

“Yep” Owusua’s answer was almost gleeful. Maame Serwaa was confused, “Why are you so happy?”

“This means he’s not the good boy he seems to be!” “I’m still waiting for why this is good news.”

Owusua smiled, “Now I’ll feel less evil about having this casual fling with him. He will survive and probably find a new girl before the plane takes off!”

Maame Serwaa looked disappointed; she resumed dressing up for work. “I don’t know why your mind works that way. Just know that I don’t approve, Owusua.”

“It really is no big deal; for all I know, he doesn’t even like me.”

************

“We saw Nana Akua on our date”

“Ah. Didn’t she leave town?”

“Well she’s a waitress at that restaurant now”

“Did Owusua see her?”

“She asked about her” “and?”

“I said she was your ex-wife” Kodjo burst into laughter

“Why did you lie?”

“I hadn’t thought about how to present the truth yet.”

Yaw’s cousin shook his head, “it’s not a hard truth, Yaw.”

A FAIR TRADE [Part 4]

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Adapted from Hans Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

 

Never mind all that. What mattered was the fact that she had escaped after ten days in the Tent. Ten lie-lie days, not true days, because out in the real world little more than an hour had passed. Not that it made much of a difference. Those ten days had been the longest of her life.

The clarity that had struck Adobea was knife-sharp, again like Senna’s knife, which she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. It had hurt her, yes, but at least it had cleared her doubts. She knew what she had to do. She could, at least, thank the incense fire for that.

She had never imagined she would be glad to see the butterfly. She didn’t bother wondering how it had known to appear at this precise moment.

(Don’t worry, Adobea. If you ever want to find me, my butterfly will find you first.)

She didn’t care about the mysteries of the goodforest, she didn’t care about much else except getting away.

They had said she couldn’t. She would show them that she could.

‘Oh poor girl,’ the butterfly crooned. ‘What did those wicked greyhealers do to you? Tut-tut-tut. Now you know what happens when the greys take you for their own, you silly little-’

‘Can you take me to the Old Bat? Quickly.’ Adobea looked back. If Senna or his grandparents came after her what would she do? She would truly be finished; there would be no escape then. But there was nobody behind her on the lie-lie path- nobody that she could see, anyway.

‘Are you sure, Adobea? The Old Bat may be worse than you imagine. Why run from the jaws of one lion into another?’

Adobea regarded it coldly, imagining its wings burning in incense fire. ‘I will do whatever I want now. Either shut up and take me to the Old Bat or clear off.’

The butterfly loomed close to her face, close enough to kiss and yet Adobea didn’t blink. ‘Only because I’m fond of you, rude little girl. Otherwise I would strip the flesh from your bones and no one would know about it.’ It fluttered round her head laughing lightly. ‘Come along, then. Quickly, though!’ It flew ahead with sudden speed. ‘If you get lost no one will know where to find you!’

*

The butterfly was flitting over Prince’s nose. Beside him sat the Old Bat, the scent of her pipe hanging tangibly in the air. It clogged my throat thickly, until I felt I could hardly bear not to hack and spit it out.

‘It turns out,’ the Bat declared, ‘that Adobea is a sneak on top of everything else.’

I glared. I was powerless to do much else anyway.

‘You’re lucky you came out in one piece. That poor devil in the silver cage is inclined to BITE.’ Whereupon she snapped her teeth together to demonstrate. Whereupon the butterfly let loose a loud stream of tinkling laughter. Whereupon I snapped: ‘Stop that, you’ll wake him up.’

‘Oh who? This one?’ The Old Bat peered at Prince as though she was seeing him for the first time. ‘Don’t worry, it seems he’s deep deep deep asleep.’

‘What are you going to do with him?’ I demanded.

‘Oh my, just what do you take me for? A flesheater?’ The Bat placed a hand over an affectedly wounded heart.

‘A dirty flesheater. It must be those dirty teeth, Madam Bat. It must be your grimy fingernails. Or your nasty breath.’ The Butterfly ventured close to examine the Bat’s obligingly gaping mouth and fell back in a mock faint. ‘Good grief! The horror!’

‘Whether I am a flesheater or not, no harm is to come to this boy,’ the Old Bat said with an absurdly noble air. ‘He isn’t mine in the first place- unlike the other one. This may surprise you, but I am an honest businesswoman.’

I was glad to leave that place with my sanity intact, rather than leaking out of my ears. The Butterfly led me back home along a lie-lie path, the same as or different from the one we had come by. I couldn’t tell and anyway, I was suddenly too tired to care. Too tired also, to ponder over how little time had passed back where the trees were recognizable and the air familiar, how it appeared that I had only gone off for a short walk, rather than an overnight vigil at a blackheart addict’s bedside. Prince’s ring, mine now, offered the only certainty that all that had passed had been more than a strange dream.

*

She was back in the cave, with a deal for the Old Bat.  A fair trade, the Bat called it. Every trade she made was fair because she was an honest businesswoman.

They were seated across from eachother at a round table, graven with miniscule symbols. It was the Exchange Table, were trades were sealed. Adobea felt the roughness of it under her elbows, the marks of a thousand deals like the one she was about to make. Exchanges that could never be unexchanged, deeds that could never be undone, and so on and so forth.

In the centre of the table was the parchment bearing the words of the agreement, and next to this was a scarlet quill and a tub of similarly coloured paste. Placed to Adobea’s left was an ivory-white bowl of water.

‘I can make you a city girl,’ said the Old Bat. ‘That is what you want, not so?’

A FAIR TRADE [Part 3]

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Adapted from Hans Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

The prisoner looked at me blankly, and I saw that his eyes were dark pits. His body odour was stale, a larger presence than he himself, cowering as he was in the misery of his condition. Which, an unhappy thing, was reaching out with long, desperate fingers. In its touch I sensed hunger, thirst and despair. I stepped back, swallowing the taste of stagnant rage in my mouth, sour and metallic, like blood.

‘Why?’ I asked the butterfly. ‘What wickedness is this?’ Continue reading

FINAL FLING (PART 3)

7e3648ee75a1d968e51bfdbcf91432b6Maame entered Owusua’s room the next morning, “aren’t you going to church?” she pulled the blanket up off her sister.

“Ooh Maame! I slept late. I beg”

“I blame Yaw for this. Wake up and let’s go!” Owusua opened her eyes; Maame was dressed for service.

“Where did he take you?”

“To watch football oh, Real Madrid.”

“But you hate football!”

“Ei please, I’m a Real fan now,” Owusua laughed.

“He wants to have dinner tonight, at La Mousse or something”

“Ei bourgei boy, how old is monsieur?” “He’s 30, he thought I was 28, I suppose 24 shocked him.” Maame Serwaa laughed. “Does he know you’re leaving in less than 3 weeks?” Continue reading

A FAIR TRADE [Part 3]

1

Adapted from Hans Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

The prisoner looked at me blankly, and I saw that his eyes were dark pits. His body odour was stale, a larger presence than he himself, cowering as he was in the misery of his condition. Which, an unhappy thing, was reaching out with long, desperate fingers. In its touch I sensed hunger, thirst and despair. I stepped back, swallowing the taste of stagnant rage in my mouth, sour and metallic, like blood. Continue reading

A FAIR TRADE [Part 2]

1

Adapted from Hans Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

He was only half awake when I bent over him, and the impression of my lips may have been nothing to him but a whisper in a vague dream, there for a tiny moment and then gone. I smiled at his half-open eyes, and laughed when he murmured sleepily, ‘You little thief…’. Raising his fingers to touch my face. Adobea, you this girl, I thought to myself. Here you are misbehaving again. But maybe one can’t help but misbehave in a witch’s cave.

‘Thief,’ he accused me again, as I slipped the ring, with its pretty green stone, off his little finger. ‘No, no. Just something to remember you by,’ I said, and he chuckled when he saw how I turned my finger this way and that, held it to a candle’s flame, held it close to my eyes, drank in the green twinkle. I would have to hide it, and I would only be able to look at it when I was alone. It would keep my little mirror company. Continue reading

A FAIR TRADE [Part 1]

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Adapted from Hans Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

Somehow the boy had found his way back to the city. Messengers were sent in the morning to tell the distressed palanquin-bearers that their master’s son was safe at home, and seemingly in good health.

Adobea wondered what the greyhealers thought of the mysterious circumstances surrounding Prince’s short disappearance. Inscrutable as ever, Senna only said: ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about’ when she remarked that surely he must know what had happened with that poor , no doubt half-mad city boy and his black butterfly. Continue reading