Chapter 32
“Good morning, Ms. Faith,” the boy said, walking up behind the former schoolteacher.
Faith Opuku turned around from the young girl she was helping with her shoes. “Good morning, Mensã! How are you today?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Did you sleep well?” her former student asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. It’s always comforting to have a roof over our heads, isn’t it? Even if it’s the roof of a school,” Faith replied. “What’s the latest news today, Mr. Amoako?”
“The elevator in Argentina is starting up today,” Mensã answered.
“What city in Argentina?” Faith asked.
“Luján,” Mensã quickly responded, as if waiting for that question.
“Well done!” Faith said. “This may not be my school, but I’m still a teacher and you’re still my student.”
The young girl sitting on the floor pulled at Faith’s nwentoma dress.
“Yes, Ama?” Faith said.
The girl pointed to her untied shoes.
“You need to use your voice, Ama,” the woman said.
“My shoes,” Ama said.
“What about your shoes?” Faith replied.
“They are untied,” the girl said.
“Yes, they are untied,” Faid said.
The girl frowned, crossed her arms, and stomped her foot on the ground.
“Ama, you need to use your voice to ask what you would like done,” Faith explained.
“Will you finish tying my shoe?” the girl said, still frowning and with arms still crossed.
“Yes,” Faith said with a laugh, and knelt down.
“I think you’re babying her too much,” Mensã said.
“That is an interesting statement from the youngest child,” Faith said absentmindedly as she finished the knot. Then, realizing her words, she quickly pivoted and looked at Mensã, who was scowling at her.
Faith quickly stood up. “Oh, my dear Mensã, I’m sorry I said that!”
The boy turned and ran out of the room.
“Mensã! Wait!” the former school teacher called, as she ran to the doorway. But Mensã had disappeared around a corner down the hall.
“Why did Mensã run away?” the young girl asked when Faith came back into the room.
“He’s angry,” Faith answered.
“Why?” the girl pursued.
“I said something that made him think about his family,” Faith explained.
Ama went quiet and looked at the floor. “I don’t get angry. I get sad when I think about my family.”
Faith took a big breath, walked over to the young girl and gave her a big hug. “We are your family, Ama. We all look out for each other and take care of each other.”
“Miss Faith, you are not my family,” Ama said matter-of-factly. “You take care of me and love me, and I love you. That was not what my family did.”
The former school teacher hugged the five-year old girl even harder.
Then, standing up quickly so the girl wouldn’t see her face, Faith held out one hand next to the girl and used the other to quickly wipe away a tear rolling down her own face. “Let’s go see what Ms. Samata has found for breakfast this morning, shall we?
The two walked hand-in-hand down the hall, with Ama skipping along, humming her own made-up tune.
They walked into the school kitchen to find Samata grilling some vegetables on the cook top and a young girl standing next to her cracking some eggs open into another pan.
“No, George, we need oatmeal, not flour,” Samata said to her son, directing his search in the pantry cabinets. “Oatmeal is a darker color brown and looks like little pebbles.”
Faith bent over and said softly to the young girl holding her hand, “Ama, would you help George find some oatmeal in the cupboards?”
Ama smiled and nodded, let go of the woman’s hand, skipped over to where the eleven-year old boy was standing, reached up to take his hand and led him back over to the cupboard, saying “Let’s find the oatmeal, George!”
Faith walked over to the woman cooking. “Good morning, Ms. Elba. How are you today?”
“Oh, please, Faith, don’t start that again,” the cook said. “I don’t like it when you are so formal. Call me Samata.”
“I think it’s important for the children to learn respect for others, and they can learn that from the example we set,” Faith said as if reciting from one of her lesson plans.
“The only children here are mine, who unfortunately are well past learning to respect me, and little Ama, who would be respectful to a tree if you asked her,” Samata said.
“Every child can continue to learn, Ms. Elba, even when others think they can’t,” Faith said. “George is a fine example. He has learned so much on this trip.”
“George is being stubborn this morning. If you want to teach him to listen to his mother, that is fine by me,” Samata said, pulling the skillet with the cooked vegetables off the cook top. “Bring that pan over her, Akuah.”
Faith looked around the room. “Why isn’t anyone else here?” she said to no one in particular.
As if on cue, a teenage girl walked into the room, pulling her hair back and putting it in a tie to hold it out of her face. “I’m sorry I’m late, Ms. Samata.”
“Yvette!” Faith said sharply. “You have a comm block. You can set the alarm to wake up and be here on time.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Faith. I did set the alarm, but I was so tired that my eyes closed after I turned off the alarm.”
“Never mind, Yvette,” Samata jumped in. “Find some plates and cutlery and bring them over here, please.”
Yvette went over to the cabinets to search for place settings.
Faith walked to the cook top. “That one needs to learn more self-discipline,” she said, looking across the counter to the other adult.
“That one needs a break,” Samata rebutted. “She’s going through a lot right now.”
“We all are going through a lot right now, Samata,” Faith said. “I expect the same level of discipline from the boys as much as from her.” And having said that, Faith walked away from the cook-top
Samata stared at Faith with a look of slight disbelief, and then returned to frying the egg and vegetable breakfast.
Faith walked to the door between the kitchen and dining area. Upon not seeing anyone she sent a message to Mensã on her comm block. ‘Breakfast is ready. Please have the boys come down to the dining hall.’
‘On the way’ was the near immediate reply from Mensã.
Turning back into the dining room, Faith saw the other five gathered around Samata.
“Yes, George, that’s some oatmeal,” his mother was saying. “But there’s not nearly enough for all of us. And besides, you can see it’s already got mold on it. Throw it out and see what else is in the pantry.”
“And, Yvette, see if you can find any drink mix,” the woman directed the teenager.
Faith went to the pantry with the boy. “I’ll help you look, George.”
After opening the first door, Faith brought out a can. “Here’s some beans, Samata.”
“No beans,” George moaned. “We always have beans.”
Samata laughed. “OK, George. No beans for breakfast. We’ll save them for lunch.”
The boys walked in at that moment.
“We’ll make due with what we have,” Samata said to Faith and George. Then, turning to the four that just came in the door, “Come over here boys! Rinse off the cutlery and take them to the tables out in the dining room and get some places set up for us to eat. Then come back in here and get your plate.”
Faith opened her mouth as if to say something, paused, and then closed it again, glancing around with an uncertain look, as everyone seemed to be doing something already.
Samata filled in the pause. “Faith, can you help find a pitcher for the drink, please?”
Faith’s uncertain look remained as she went to the cupboards, found a large ceramic pitcher and went to fill it up with water from the faucet. Yvette brought over a container of orange-colored powder, which Faith took, read the instructions on the side panel, and poured in the suggested amount of mix for the size of the pitcher.
“Take this out to the table, please,” Faith said to Yvette after the mix had been stirred into the water.
The four boys came back into the kitchen, with two of them having a pretend sword fight with two of the knives.
“Obo! Kweisi! Enough of that, now!” Faith said in her command-and-control teacher voice, the look of uncertainty completely gone from her face. “We don’t need any injuries today. And now you’ll have to clean your knives again.”
“I’m afraid there is nothing we need to cut this morning,” Samata said, motioning for her daughter to hand her a ladle sitting on the counter.
The two would-be pirates looked at Faith.
“Oh, just hold them and stop trying to cut each other,” the former teacher said.
“OK, everyone, grab your plate and come over here,” the cook said.
There was a bit of a tussle as the boys jockeyed for position, but eventually everyone came up to the counter, received a ladle-full of fried egg and vegetable scramble, and went into the cafeteria.
As Faith was helping Ama with her plate, she could hear Mensã in the dining room say “You need to wait, Kwame. We haven’t said prayer yet.” Faith smiled.
Finally, everyone was seated and the children all looked at Faith.
“Would you like to say the meal prayer, Mensã?” she asked.
Mensã smiled, nodded and bowed his head, with the others following his example. “Thank you, Lord, for this good food today. Thank you for letting us find the eggs last night. Thank you for helping us find this school to sleep in. And thank you for giving us Ms. Elba and Ms. Opuku to take care of us. I am especially thankful for Ms. Opuku being willing to keep me safe since my old family left. She is a good person. Amen.”
Everyone raised their heads, looking at Faith.
Samata, seeing Faith trying to catch her breath and her eyes tearing up, filled in the quiet. “Amen. Let us eat.”
The table quickly erupted into a flurry of activity. The boys’ hands were grabbing forks and making the egg scramble quickly disappear from their plates. Ama was reaching for her juice, having a hard time getting a good grip on the drink, and Samata quickly catching the glass before it tipped over. Only Faith and Yvette were slow to move to start with.
Yvette took a deep breath, put a small amount of eggs on her fork and barely took a bite before she quickly pushed her chair back from the table and rushed out of the dining room.
This made Faith look up. Before she could call after the teenage girl, Samata got Faith’s attention and gave a small shake of her head and motioned with her hand to let the girl go. Faith frowned but complied.
“Tell me again how you boys got this food last night,” Samata said.
Kwame spoke up, “When we were outside playing last night, this man’s transpod made a really loud sound as he drove by and he pulled off the road. We ran over to see what was going on. After looking over his pod for a bit, he said it broke down. He called someone on his commblock, but then started yelling at the other man after talking to him for a minute. We asked him why he was yelling after he hung up, and he said the other man was a crook for wanting to charge so much for coming out in the evening. He then looked at us and asked if we could help carry the stuff in his pod back to his house, and if we did, he’d give us some food.”
Kwesi jumped in, “He said it was only a kilometer to his house, but I think it was a lot longer. We used to walk to a store back in Nkoranza that my mother said was a kilometer from our house. And we had to walk a lot further last night.”
“Well, thank you for doing that, all of you,” Samata said. “That made a big difference for us this morning.”
“So the man gave you both the eggs and the vegetables?” Faith asked.
“Oh, no,” Mensã spoke up. “He tried giving us just vegetables, but I could see half of what he tried to give us was bruised or going bad. I said we saved him five trips and at least two hours. He laughed, said he could have done it in three trips, but agreed we had helped him. He asked me what I thought was fair, and I said two dozen eggs.”
“I think we’ll need more of that magic touch today to get some more food,” Samata said. “I didn’t find much when I looked in the pantry last night.”
A few of the children looked to the cook after she said this.
Faith quickly followed-up. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find enough to eat, like we’ve been able to every day.”
“Will it be like the last two weeks?” said one of the boys, finishing off the last bite from his plate.
“I hope not, Kwame,” Faith replied. “We’re in a bigger town so it should be easier to find food and people willing to help us.”
“Ms. Faith will never let any of us go hungry!” Mensã said forcefully.
“Not with you bringing in a dozen eggs each day,” Samata said.
“I’ll lay them myself if I have to,” Mensã said with a serious face, and then smiled widely.
Everyone else at the table broke out laughing.
The morning meal was quickly finished by the older children. Ama was taking her time, talking to Samata, who enjoyed sitting for a moment. Faith directed the five pre-teens to take the dishes into the kitchen and begin cleaning while she went to find Yvette.
She walked out of the dining room into the main school courtyard and looked left and right, wondering which way the teenager had gone. Faith turned to the left when she heard some sounds coming from a few meters down the sidewalk. Arriving at the door where the sounds emanated, Faith looked up and saw the sign for “Girls Restroom”.
She opened the door and could recognize the sound as someone retching.
“Yvette? Is that you,” Faith asked tentatively.
The answer was more moaning and more heaving noises.
Faith walked over to where she could see legs under the stall walls, and found Yvette kneeling on the floor, her head over the toilet bowl.
“Yvette! Are you ill?” the teacher asked the girl.
The girl looked up, her face pale. “I wish I could be, Ms. Faith. At least that would go away.”
“What are you talking about, Yvette?,” Faith said. “If you’re sick, you should have told Ms. Elba or myself so the younger children don’t catch what you have.”
“I don’t think they can catch anything from me,” Yvette said.
“Sure they can, girl,” Faith said impatiently. “Germs spread between people quite easily.”
“It’s not germs, Ms. Faith,” Yvette said, looking the teacher directly in the eyes with a somber expression. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re what? You’re pregnant? Oh my God!” Faith said in quick succession, her own expression quickly going from confusion to realization.
“Stay here!” Faith said and ran out of the bathroom.
She ran back to the dining hall, and found Samata and Ama walking towards the kitchen.
“Samata! Come here! Quickly! I need you!” Faith said, running up to the pair.
Samata saw Faith was unravelled and handed the plate she was carrying in one hand to the young girl. “Here, Ama. Take this into the kitchen and give it to the others so they can clean it. Be careful, now!”
Samata turned and walked over to Faith. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Faith said. “I found Yvette. She’s in the bathroom.”
“Is she bleeding?” Samata said, suddenly looking very concerned.
“No, well, I didn’t see any blood,” Faith replied. “She’s throwing up. She said she’s pregnant!”
Samata’s worried look disappeared and she nodded her head in understanding. “It’s not easy for that one,” she said and walked past Faith towards the doorway.
Faith jogged to catch up. “What do you mean? Did she tell you already?”
“No, she didn’t need to,” Samata said. “Why are you surprised? Couldn’t you see?”
“See what? That’s she’s pregnant?,” Faith replied. “She didn’t tell me until just now. How was I supposed to know?”
“Well, let’s see,” Samata responded, holding up fingers as she continued walking. “She’s been eating like a teenage boy, not a teenage girl. She naps whenever she has a chance. She disappears multiple times each morning. And her breasts are sprouting like aluguntugui.”
“I, I”, Faith sputtered, looking for words, “I’ve never been pregnant before.”
Samata waved her hand dismissively at the other woman, and walked into the bathroom. She immediately went over to the stall where Yvette was, and found her now sitting on the stool instead of kneeling on the floor.
“Ms. Faith tells me you’re not feeling well,” Samata said to the teenager, who was looking a bit less pale. “Are you getting sick every morning?”
“I’ve not been feeling well, but nothing like this morning,” Yvette said.
“Are you bleeding?” Samata asked.
“No I’m not cut or anything, I’m..” Yvette started.
“I know, girl,” Samata interrupted. “You’re pregnant. Are you bleeding from down there?”
The young mother-to-be’s eyes widened with concern. “No! Am I going to? I didn’t think I was supposed to bleed again until after the baby came?”
“No, you’re not, Sweet,” the older mother assured her, moving some of the girl’s hair back from her face. “That’s why I asked. I just want to be sure everything is OK. And it sounds like it is. Come on, let’s get you back to a place where you can rest more comfortably for a bit.” Samata put her hand under one of the girl’s arms and helped her stand.
“When was the last time you had your cycle?” Samata asked gently.
“Two months ago. I should be having it this week, but these pains aren’t like the grabbing pain I normally get, so I don’t think my cycle is going to happen,” Yvette said, holding Samata’s arm more for comfort than necessity, as they left the bathroom and went down the sidewalk towards the room the girl has stayed in the night before.
“Every woman is different. Even every child is different for a woman,” the mother-of-two shared. “For George, I was a little nauseous, but the entire nine-months seemed so easy compared to what my sister and mother said their pregnancies were like. But for Akuah, I thought I had woken up at night without realizing it and eaten a rotten frog for as awful as I felt in the morning.”
The girl gave her comfort-giver a dubious stare.
“Don’t worry,” Samata responded. “It only lasted a few weeks. Once that ended, the rest of my pregnancy with her was like George’s. Easy as floating down the river in a rubber raft. I just got to enjoy feeling her kick, since she was a lot more active than George.”
The girl looked worried again. “I don’t feel anything moving,” she said.
“And you won’t for another three months, if you’re like most women,” Samata said. “You’ll need to get at least half-way along before you’ll feel anything.”
Faith finally jumped into the conversation. “So, when did you become pregnant?” she asked.
“I…”, Yvette hesitated, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t remember being with a man?” Faith said incredulously. “Did you sleep with someone else after you left your boyfriend in Kumasi? Did a man get to you in Nkoranza and you didn’t tell us?”
“No! I love Jojo!” Yvette said. “I would never do that to him!”
“Then how did this happen?” Faith pushed. “We left Mankranso over two months ago. And you said you’ve only missed one period. Are you lying about that?”
Samata scowled at Faith.
“No, Ms. Opuko, I’m not lying,” the girl sobbed.
“Then how did this happen?” Faith pursued.
“The girl is not feeling well, Faith,” Samata interjected. “Can’t we leave this for another time?”
“He came to see me when we were in Techiman,” Yvette blurted out.
“Who came to see you?” Faith asked.
“Jojo! He wanted to say good-bye and see me one more time,” the girl confessed.
“How did he know you were in Techiman?” Faith questioned.
Yvette paused, and then said in a very soft voice “I’ve been talking with him on my commblock since we left.”
“Enough!” Samata said so forcefully that both of the other women jumped.
“Yvette, you’re tired and your emotions are going completely crazy with all of the changes your body is going through at the moment. I’m going to get you to lay down so you can rest up this morning. I’ll bring you something that you should be able to keep in your stomach.”
“Faith, please wait outside here for a minute,” Samata finished, giving the other woman a look like there was no other option.
Faith stood outside the door where Yvette and Samata had entered. Just as her patience was ending and she went to let herself in, the door opened and Samata came out. Faith could see past the other woman to where Yvette was lying on a makeshift cot on the floor. Samata closed the door gently and started walking away without even glancing at Faith.
Faith quickly came after Samata and caught up with her as she rounded a corner.
“How does that girl think she can get away with her actions and her behavior like that? Doesn’t she know what would happen when…” Faith was saying.
Samata turned around quickly and grabbed Faith’s arm with a grip much stronger than Faith had thought possible. “How do you think you can get away with your behavior? You talk about how you are a school teacher that only wants to care for children and feels a special connection to those who have been neglected. You said you felt you could help her after her parents kicked her out of their house. What has changed since then? You told me you knew her parents found out she was having sex with her boyfriend and that’s why they told her to leave. What has changed between then and now? Nothing, except that one of those times she had sex, she got pregnant. How do you think that poor girl felt when the person who said she would care for her seems no more interested in her welfare than her parents once it’s discovered she has a baby in her belly. That is pathetic!” Samata nearly spat out that last sentence as she released her grip on Faith’s arm almost as sharply as she grabbed it.
Faith was taken aback. She was the one accustomed to giving the strong response when the children were making poor choices. She was the one making sure the students were learning how to behave. She was not used to being lectured herself.
“I… It…” Faith’s uncertainty made her sputter again. “It wasn’t my idea to bring her along,” she said, without much conviction.
“Don’t try to fool me – or yourself,” Samata countered. “You thought you could turn this girl around. You thought you could tell her the right way to behave and she would become just like you – a polite, model citizen, showing the world how Ghana can be a shining example of how everyone else should live.”
Faith paused, tilted her head ever so slightly, and then said quietly but with no lack of certainty. “You think you understand everything about me, don’t you? Yet you have no idea who I am.”
“I’ve been seeing your actions and hearing your words every day for two months. I think I have a very good idea of who you are,” Samata said.
“Excellent,” Faith said through pursed lips, with no attempt to hide her sarcasm. “Since you know me so well, I guess there isn’t any more to talk about. I think I’ll just go and check on the rest of the children, as you have things under control with Yvette.”
Faith walked past Samata, down the sidewalk and back to the dining room entrance.
She was surprised she didn’t hear the children from far away, expecting them to be a bit out of control without having adult supervision for some time. Instead, when she got closer, she could hear one of the boys talking in a calm manner, and was then very surprised to hear a low-timbered voice speak next. She couldn’t make out the words, but could tell the voice belonged to an adult male.
Faith looked around. Samata hadn’t followed her, so she was the only person in the courtyard. Without any further waiting, she walked through the doorway as if she were entering a new classroom at the beginning of the year.
The children looked up to see her, which caused the man, whose back was to the door, to turn around. He appeared to be in his late forties, with a solid but not muscular build. The man stood up upon seeing Faith.
“Who are you and what are you doing here,” the former school teacher immediately asked, walking directly towards the group.
The man took a small step backwards. “My name is Inigo Eshun. I’m the janitor for this school. Or at least the former janitor. Anyway, I check on the building on Sundays, my day off, just to make sure nothing bad has happened here. And when I arrived today, I found these children by themselves. Are you with them?”
This was one surprise too many for Faith. Her perfect posture melted away, she wobbled to the nearest chair, pulled it away from the table and sat down with her hands flopping in her lap.
“Are you OK?” the man asked.
Faith didn’t answer.
Mensã stood up and came over to where his care-giver was sitting. “Ms. Faith? Are you ok?” he asked.
She looked at the boy in confusion. “What’s happening here, Mensã?”
“This man said he used to work here,” Mensã said, pulling out and sitting in a chair next to his teacher. “He said some people try to break in here and take things, and he thought maybe we were doing that. I told him we weren’t. We just needed a place to rest.”
“And a place to eat,” Inigo said. “I hear you just finished breakfast.
“Yes, but we didn’t eat any of the food from the pantry,” Mensã quickly said.
“The oatmeal has mold in it,” George added.
Inigo laughed. “I’m surprised you could tell it was oatmeal, since I thought it would have had a twenty centimeters of crud on top of it! That food hasn’t been touched since the end of June. The Principal begged me to keep the supplies in the kitchen. She was so hopeful the children would return this fall. The problem wasn’t that the children would come back. It was the teachers. No matter. The school didn’t re-open last month, and I keep meaning to throw out whatever was left in the pantry that went bad, but I get sidetracked everytime I come here.”
“What happened to the teachers?” Kwame asked.
“Half of them left town before the end of August,” the janitor shared. “And Mrs. Nkrumah couldn’t convince the teachers still in town to remain here for the first semester. So she decided it would be too hard on the children to have them come back for a few weeks just to be released when their teacher left. She has arranged for some educational casts, and has all of the children connected to a digital classroom run by the Northern Region. But it’s not the same.”
“Our school didn’t re-open either,” Mensã said. “But our principal didn’t even try. He left our town without even telling anyone. Ms. Opuku was one of only two teachers who showed up in July to plan for the First Term. She and Ms. Boateng thought maybe some of the other teachers would come back also. They even called the Minister of Education for the Ashanti Region to get help. But they said they didn’t have anyone they could send. But Ms. Faith did get BECE certificates from the Ministry for all of us that finished in her class last year.”
“And how many was that?” Inigo Eshun asked, very interested in the information being shared.
“Fifteen of us,” Mensã said. “She had the most students of any of the teachers at the end of last year.”
“Please, Mensã, I think this man has heard enough about our school,” Faith said, having regained some of her composure.
“No, not at all,” Inigo said. “I’m quite fascinated by this. In fact, if you don’t mind, I have a few more questions for you, Ms. Faith, is it?”
He pulled out a keypen, and pushed a button, generating a key from the tip. “If you want, young man, you can use this to get some of the playground equipment from the closet next to the bathroom,” Inigo said, turning to Mensã. “But I’m trusting you to bring the key back, and make sure all of the equipment is put away when you are done.”
Mensã ran to take the key. “Thank you! We will. Come on!” and then he ran out of the dining room with the other six children on his heels.
Faith smiled, hearing them jabber as they ran down the sidewalk.
“So you are a teacher?” Inigo asked Faith once the noise died down.
Faith nodded.
“And he was one of your students?” the janitor continued.
“He was my best student,” Faith answered.
“Well, he certainly thinks highly of you,” Inigo said.
“What do you mean?” Faith asked.
“You can see how proud he is of what you did and what you tried to accomplish. We’re all these your former students? Except for the little one. I’m guessing she is your daughter,” Inigo said.
“Ama? No, she isn’t my daughter,” Faith said with a surprised tone. “And they aren’t my students. I wouldn’t bring all of them along up here like that.”
“Then you have more of the story to tell me, Ms. Faith,” Inigo Eshuan said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs.
“There is no story, I’m afraid,” she said, sounding tired again.
“You travelled from Ashanti Region to here with a dozen children, one of which is your student and none of which are your children,” the man said. “I think there is a fascinating story. Which town did you travel from?”
“Kumasi,” Faith answered.
“And how did you decide to bring these children with you from Kumasi?” Inigo asked.
“Oh, the only one from Kumasi is Mensã. The rest I collected along the way,” Faith replied.
“See! I told you there was a story,” the would-be janitor said, leaning forward and clapping his hands together. “Where did you find them? Ejura?”
“No, in various places. And we didn’t come through Ejura. I travelled northwest first,” Faith said.
“Okay. Tell me when you left, why you left, and the places you stopped between then and now,” Inigo said, sitting back in the chair and crossing his legs again.
Faith looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and then straightened up in her chair.
“As Mensã said, there were fifteen students in my classroom at the end of the school year,” Faith began. “This was half the number I had just three weeks prior. It was so sad to see all of the students that didn’t come back in the final three weeks of the school year. And school completed on June 1st. Exams were skipped due to test readiness being incomplete, since the Ministry of Education hadn’t finalized the central exams.”
“I left Kumasi and went to Accra to visit a friend from university,” Faith continued. “I was also interested in how things were turning out in another city. Accra was only slightly less crazy compared to Kumasi. I left Accra after two weeks, partly to see how things were developing in Kumasi, and party because Mensã was getting homesick.”
“So why is your student with you on holiday?” Inigo asked.
“His family abandoned him in Kumasi before the end of the school year. I felt there was no other option,” Faith explained.
The janitor nodded in agreement.
“So, back in Kumasi, I tried to get back to a normal life. But that seemed impossible to do,” Faith continued with her story. “The aliens, the launch sites, the elevators were the only thing anyone was talking about. And, I have to be honest, being in a large city began to scare me, since I thought what a lot of people were saying made sense. If the aliens wanted to round up a large number of people, go to the cities.”
“The desire to leave Kumasi became clear when the base was built in Toumodi, around 21 June. I mean, how can it not become concerning when the aliens finally settle down next door? I told myself we had to be out of town before the elevator in Cote D’Ivoire was complete, which, based on my estimates, was going to happen by mid-August. And we did that. We made it out of town by 17 July.”
“I wasn’t sure where we had to go, but I knew it wasn’t back to Accra or the coast. So we went to Mankranso, where my cousin lives. She said we could stay with her for a few weeks while we made a decision what to do next. It was a pleasant stay at first, but eventually we had to go.”
“Your cousin kicked you out?” Inigo asked.
All emotion disappeared from Faith’s face. “No. She had plans to go a different way than I wanted to go, and with people I didn’t think we should be around,” she replied.
“But before we left, I let her talk me into taking along another person who needed some help,” Faith continued with a sigh. “She asked me to get her to some extended family members as she was having a bit of a rough time with her parents. I felt sorry for her and agreed to help, but now I can see that was a mistake.”
“The little girl? She seems so sweet!” Inigo said.
“No, not Ama!” Faith responded. “That girl is absolutely sweet! No, it was a girl three times her age. Yvette. You haven’t met her yet. She’s…. resting.”
“But I did take her. My cousin agreed to get us transit tickets to our next destination in Techiman, where Yvette had an aunt. So, on 2 August we left Mankranso. Our ticket allowed us to take a pod or bus. I chose a pod since I thought it would be less stressful.”
“It should have been a quick trip, but Yvette needed to use the toilet, so we had the pod stop in Fawaman. Yvette and Mensã both went inside for the toilets while I waited outside. It seemed to take them both forever. Then I heard Yvette crying. I saw the pod was set to wait, and thought I’d be able to check on Yvette before anything happened to it. She was sad she was leaving town, complaining about not seeing her boyfriend. By the time I got her back outside, Mensã was out of his toilet, but the transpod had taken off and took our luggage with it.”
“So you had to contact the transit agency?” the janitor said.
“I did, but apparently this pod was owned by a scammer. My commblock registered the unit as a valid vehicle, but someone faked the credentialing. They didn’t have any record of that pod, and said I should have taken the transbus since there have been lots of pod scams lately. They wouldn’t refund the ticket price, especially since I hadn’t purchased them. I got so frustrated, I told the two children we were going to walk to Bechem. Oh, how Yvette complained. But not Mensã. He tried to get Yvette to talk on the way, and when she wouldn’t share anything about herself, Mensã then began telling her all of the gossip stories he had learned about the Ghanaian National Futbol team. That finally got her interest.”
“We had just left Ashanti Region and had about another half-an-hour before getting to Bechem when I heard crying again. I turned around, but it wasn’t Yvette. She and Mensã were both looking to the side of the road. That’s where we found Ama. Her parents had abandoned her.”
“Just like that? She was abandoned?” Inigo asked.
“Yes, just like that,” Faith replied, seeing the disbelief in the janitor’s face. “Ask Yvette or Mensã yourself if you doubt me. Anyway, I couldn’t just leave her there.
“And why not?” Inigo said. “How do you know her parents were coming back?”
“She said they weren’t,” Faith answered.
“And you trust everything a five-year old child says?” Inigo question. “Did you at least wait around for a while to see if they returned?”
“It was getting dark, and I didn’t want that pod to pass us by and have its owner see we were vulnerable. Besides, why would she make up that story?”
“You’re a teacher. You know children make up stories all the time.”
“Well, this one didn’t. She told me many awful things they did to her before that day.” But Faith said this with less conviction than before. “Anyway, when we got to Bechem, we stayed there for a week. I did try to find her parents, her family, or anyone who knew her, but no one recognized her, and no one was at the home when we returned a few times during that week. The houses closest to hers said they didn’t know who lived there but did confirm it was a family that had moved in just in the past month. The police were of no help, as they said they didn’t have anyone reporting a missing child. I thought maybe her parents had been hurt, but Bechem Government Hospital didn’t have any records of a man and woman coming in together in the past few days. Just the normal flow of cases.”
“Ama wasn’t too interested in trying to find her family. She said her parents mistreated her and said she wasn’t earning her keep like her older brother and sister. She shared that when her parents did take her someplace with them, they would give her lies to tell. She didn’t like doing that, but if she didn’t tell the lie or make it seem convincing, they would slap her or spank her afterwards. If you ask me, it sounds like they were scammers. I told Ama she could stay with us while we found something permanent for her. She said she was quite happy to stay with us.”
“So then there were four of you,” Inigo noted. “But you have a lot more now. I’m guessing the story continues?”
“Yes, it does,” Faith said with a slight smile. “Like I said, we stayed in Bechem for a week. I didn’t know anyone in that town, but I thought I might run into a friendly face at a school. We visited St. Joseph College of Education, but they were focused on getting students to return for First Semester activities in September and offered no help. We ended up at the Bechem School for the Deaf. They were the nicest people we met on the entire trip. But there was too much activity in that town. The entire city seems like they are hardly impacted by the news of the aliens. If anything, more people were coming into town from other places because they wanted the security of being around others. I don’t agree with that approach. So on 11 August, we left Bechem and got to Techiman the evening of 13 August.”
“Wait, please,” interrupted Inigo. “Three days for a two-hour trans ride?”
“We walked,” Faith said.
“You walked? Why? The four of you could easily fit into a transpod,” the janitor said.
“I didn’t want to take a chance to have another experience like we did on the trip into Bechem,” Faith explained. “And I get a teacher’s salary, so I’m not made of money. I felt I needed to conserve what I had for food, so buying four trans tickets was not my priority. It’s lovely weather, we have no schedule to meet, and I had three children that need exercise to keep them out of trouble. So, we walked.”
“When we arrived in Techiman, Yvette said she would go to her Aunt’s place on her own. I insisted on seeing her there, which she was not happy about. She said she had been messaging her Aunt via her commblock, and her Aunt was expecting her, but I would not let her go alone. When we got to the apartment where her Aunt lived, Yvette insisted we couldn’t all go up, which I understood. I asked if her Aunt could come down to meet us, but Yvette said her Aunt didn’t want to come downstairs. I at least talked to her on Yvette’s commblock, and she said just to let the girl come up on her own. I could see the family tendency for rude behavior, so I thought they must be related. I’ll admit I was a bit relieved once she was with her Aunt, thinking I would no longer have to deal with he attitude.”
“After we left there, I needed to find a place for the rest of us. I liked the idea of staying at a school, so we went to Techiman East Elementary. I had heard from asking around about the schools that they were consolidating, since there weren’t enough schools or teachers to fill all the buildings for the coming First Semester. The students from Techiman East were told they would need to go to Techiman Central. I thought the building would be empty, and it was.”
“We were there for two days, and then Samata came to check on her classroom,” Faith said, tensing up a bit.
“Samata is the girl that was with all those boys I found in the kitchen?” the janitor asked.
“No, that is Samata’s daughter. You haven’t met Samata. She is taking care of Yvette at the moment,” Faith said.
“Good!” Inigo exclaimed. “I’m glad you have someone to help you.”
Faith gave a weak smile. “Yes, it is nice to have another adult around.” Then, after a brief pause, “Samata was surprised to find us in her room, but after I explained what had happened, she understood. The next day, she brought back some extra food for us, and arranged for us to use her apartment so we could bathe. We would take turns, the four of us, so we wouldn’t use up her daily water ration. The more we talked, the more she liked the idea of leaving Techiman, since she also felt it was too exposed. Between the efforts of Mensã and myself, and assistance from other teachers that Samata knew, we were able to build up additional clothing and supplies for the four of us.”
“It was going pretty well then two things happened. First, Yvette came to the school. I had sent her a comm message letting her know where we had settled. She never replied, but that didn’t surprise me. It did surprise me when she showed up one day after we had been in town about a week. She said her Aunt had kicked her out, and she wondered if she could stay with us again. I was hesitant, but Yvette looked so sad and tired that I couldn’t refuse her. I did set some ground rules, including that she had limited time on her commblock. She said the block stopped working, so her parents must have cut off the service.”
“Then the day after that, Kwesi showed up. He was a former student of Samata. He and George would come over to play with Mensã, so he knew we were there. The day he arrived was actually before sunrise. He didn’t want to go out to play, and was very quiet, and kept asking if we were sure that Ms. Elba would be arriving. Samata finally came to the school around noon, and right away Kwesi pulled her aside. I remember after a minute, Samata straightened up and told Kwesi, “You can’t just leave them” and she pulled out her commblock and started tapping it. Kwesi tried grabbing the block from her and pleaded for her to not call.”
“She came over to talk to me and shared that he ran away from his family. His parents had announced the night before they were taking the family to Toumodi to go to the new planet, and he didn’t want to go. He asked to stay with Samata.”
“We talked a lot that day, Samata and I. She asked what my plans were, and I said the more I thought about it, the more I felt the best place to go was the Central Gonja District, just north of the Volta River. I think somewhere close to the river and the less populated woodlands is the place to go for food and cover. She asked if she, her two children and Kwesi could join us. I was quite happy at the time to have them along. Like you said, having another adult makes a big difference. I could see where her son, George, could be a lot of help from a physical perspective. And Akuah could be a big sister for Ama, as Yvette had no interest in the little girl. So we agreed to leave together.”
“It took Samata another three days to get her affairs in order. During that time, Yvette disappeared for a day without letting us know. When she returned late that night, we had a tense conversation, that girl and I. I told her she could not run off like that, since I was responsible for her. She said she was old enough to take care of herself, and had been visiting a friend she knew from Mankranso who had come to town to visit the friend’s relatives.”
At this point, Faith slowly shook her head and looked Inigo directly in the eyes. “Yvette tells enough of the truth that she can keep her story straight. But she works in enough lies that you can’t trust exactly what she is saying. We found out today that indeed it was a friend from home she was visiting, but it wasn’t a girl, and the friend had no relatives in Techiman. Well, at least that’s not the reason he came to town.”
“No matter,” Faith continued, “we were all together and on 27 August we left town. Samata was going to get us trans tickets on the bus, but I insisted on walking, sharing the story of what happened to us on the way to Becham. Samata grudgingly agreed. I had found backpacks for the children, and they all carried their own clothing and personal supplies. Even little Ama insisted on carrying a small pack with some of her clothes and a doll she had brought with her from her house. It was only a six-hour walk between the two towns, but Samata and Akuah couldn’t walk the whole way and when they said they needed to stop, Yvette joined in their complaints. So we stayed in a church just before Bonsu for a night. And then finished our trip the next day.”
Inigo extended his thumb and began counting. He repeated the count, but with fewer fingers the second time.
“So, you’ve mentioned eight people in your story so far, but from what I can tell, there are ten of you here,” the janitor noted.
“Yes, and now we come to the part where we met Kwama and Obo, Faith said. “We agreed to stay in Nkoranza to rest for two days before continuing. Samata liked the idea of staying in a school, and – as had happened in Techiman – the schools in Nkoranza had consolidated, so we were able to find an unused primary school south of the central city and we stayed there.”
“The second day there, two boys showed up early in the morning. They were cousins, and they had gone to school the year before in the building we were in. They were looking for their teacher. We told them about the schools merging, but they hadn’t heard about it and didn’t know where the other school was. We asked them why their parents hadn’t taken them to the new school, and Kwama ran out of the room crying. Obo himself just sat on the floor and hugged his knees.”
“It took some coaxing, but I found out Obo was living with Kwama and his mother. There had been a break-in to their home three days before, when Obo and Kwama were out playing with some friends. The attacker had assaulted Kwama’s mother and left her bleeding and injured. When the boys came home, they found her unconscious but still breathing. They were able to get some neighbors to help take Kwama’s mother to the hospital. Her injuries were too severe, and she died the next day in hospital.”
“The police didn’t have any good information to locate the attacker, and when no relatives came to the hospital to check on Kwama’s mother or the boys, the police took the boys to the address where Obo’s parents lived. Even though the parents weren’t there, the police left the boys, telling them to wait for Obo’s mother and father to return. Since neither of the parents came that day or overnight, Obo and Kwama decided to find their teacher to help them. And that’s how we met them at the school.”
“I took the boys back to the local police station, but the police refused to be of any help. They said the boys had been dropped off with relatives, and the police had no more responsibility. They didn’t care that Obo’s parents were not there. So I took the boys to the address I got from the police.”
“I’ve never been in a house like that. The walls and security gates looked very new, like everything else in the neighborhood. The only way we got in is because the gatelock recognized Obo and opened when he passed the biotest scan. The house had three levels, five separate bedrooms and three bathrooms. It had a kitchen larger than my apartment, a garage for two transpods, and it’s very own Maeker Marke machine.”
“There was no sign of Obo’s parents, and no contact information available in the home. When we went back to the school to connect with the rest of our group, I told Samata about the house. She suggested we stay there while looking for Obo’s family. I didn’t need much convincing.”
“It took us six attempts to get everyone inside, since the security gate wouldn’t allow all of us at one. We determined only one adult at a time could come in with Obo and Kwama. It considered Yvette and George both as adults. After George and Yvette went in, Akuah ran up when Samata was entering, and the gate let Akuah go with her. So I was able to get Mensã, Ama, and Kwame in with me. We finally got everyone inside and settled by sunset of the day we met the cousins at the school.”
“I spent the next week repeating the same steps that I did in Bechem. What was different this time is that plenty of people knew about Obo’s parents. But no one knew where they were at. They both ran a trading company. It wasn’t exactly clear what they traded in, as some people said it was wood products, others precious metals, others said oil or cocoa, and a few whispered drugs. What was clear is Obo’s parents had money and would spend it when they were in town, hosting parties that were famous for the food and the amount of alcohol consumed. Apparently they had convinced Kwama’s mother, who was the first cousin of Obo’s mother, to take care of the boy if they provided her a place to stay and pay for expenses for her and both boys. But still, no one had any contact information for either of them. Obo remembers talking to his mother every so often on the commblock, and they would return three or four times a year and he would spend a week with his parents at their house. But they never took him along when they left town, and only his Aunt had their comm information. And that was unaccessible, since the attacker had take her commblock.”
“It was easy to stay in the home. There were plenty of food supplies in the pantry. Nothing fresh, mind you, but plenty of packaged food that could feed us. Samata and I had enough money in our accounts to get the needed additional supplies. After two weeks, we were getting quite comfortable in that home. The children would play in the large rooms downstairs or in the garden out back. Every bedroom had a wall console, so we all watched hours and hours of casts and the kids played lots of netgames. And Mensã figured out how to work the Maeker Marke machine. There were only a limited number of items we could print, as Obo had to be the one requesting the item, and there must have been restrictions on what he could request. But we all got new shoes and hats, toys for the children, and some rings and beads.”
“Finally, after two weeks, I stopped trying to find his parents. We said we would wait for them to return to reunite the family. But looking back, I think none of us wanted to leave and would have stayed as long as possible.”
“OK,” Inigo said with a curious tone, “so why did you leave?”
“We had to,” Faith replied. “The person who had attacked Obo’s mother found out Obo was still in town. I guess word had gotten around from everyone I was talking to when I was trying to find Obo’s parents. Anyway, one day when I was coming back with Obo from some shopping, a man was able to rush up when Obo opened the gate. He pushed me aside and went in with Obo. He made Obo open the second gate for him and rushed around the back of the house. Obo returned and let me in, and I told him to go inside and get everyone upstairs. When I went around back, I found the man searching through the bushes next to the wall. I think he was looking for a weapon he must have thrown over the wall earlier and was looking for it now. I grabbed a shovel and chased him away, but he laughed and said he’d be back tomorrow with more men and they would have weapons to take over the house and us. I got inside and told Samata, who said we had to tell the police. I did contact them, but they said we had no proof the attackers were coming back. And when they started asking more questions about the place I was staying, they said I had no right to be there, and would be sending someone over to check if we were trespassing. Samata and I felt we had no other option, so the next day, we packed everything up and left town.”
“Just like that? You left a perfect house and comfortable life because of one would-be robber?”, Inigo said.
“Yes just like that,” Faith said, looking the janitor in the eyes, and then turning away.
“How long had you been there?” Inigo asked.
“Nearly a month,” Faith responded. “But that moment made me realize what we were doing wasn’t right. It helped me wake up that we were taking advantage of someone else and avoiding our plans. So, yes, it was time to leave that house and time to leave Nkoranza.”
“So what day was that?” Inigo asked.
“I believe 23 September,” Faid answered. “Samata wanted to get us trans tickets again, but I insisted we walk, since we had all gotten a bit soft that month.”
“And then?” Inigo said.
“And then we walked here,” Faith answered. “It took us two weeks. We walked south towards Ejura then back north again to here, since there were more places to stop for the night and we could make it from one town to the next in a day. But I promised the rest of our group that we would stay in town and rest for a bit before continuing on.”
“So you still plan to go north of the Volta? Do you know anyone there?” Inigo continued with his questions.
“Yes, I still think that is the best place to be,” Faith replied. “I don’t know anyone there now. When I was at university we took a week trip to do some volunteer teaching in the Central Gonja District. I just remember it as beautiful and remote. Both of those are appealing to me at this moment.”
“That is an amazing story, … Ms. Opuku? Correct?” the janitor said.
“Yes, Ayawa Faith Opoku Gyambibi,” the former school teacher confirmed.
“So I have been thinking while you were telling me about your travels that you seem to be focused more on the journey and not as much about reaching your destination as soon as possible. You also love the children you have taken up, like any good school teacher should,” Inigo said, sitting up straight in his chair. “This is a school, but, as you can see, the teachers that should be here are not. And the students that should be here are not. So I have a proposal for you, Teacher Faith Opoku. You said the other woman with you is also a teacher? Then both of you stay here for First Semester. I know we can find more than enough children that will come here for lessons each day. The two of you agree to teach, and we parents will find a place for all of you to live, and we’ll supply you with food and other supplies that you need. We may even be able to pull together a small stipend.”
Inigo Eshun sat there, letting his words sink in for Faith. It took a minute for that to occur.
Finally, Faith said, “Do I understand correctly that you want to hire Ms. Elba and I as school teachers?”
“Yes,” Inigo responded.
“But you are the janitor here, not the principal! How can you make such an offer?” Faith questioned.
“Look around, Ms. Faith,” Inigo said, gesturing with his arms in a wide arc to either side. “There is no principal, or Senior Teacher, or any staff of any kind. Except myself, yes, the janitor. And even I am not officially employed by Attebubu any longer. But I am a parent. And, as I said, I know many other parents who want their children to continue to learn. You said yourself that there is nothing much in Central Gonja District. Stay here – at least for a while. We may not be as sophisticated as your friends in Kumasi. We will not have a mansion for you to stay in like you had in Nkoranza. But you will have people that support you here, and a place where the children you are watching after can be cared for.”
“Faith,” a third voice sounded. “Are you in here?”
Samata came to the open doorway and stopped.
Inigo Eshun stood up. “Hello. You must be Samata?”
Samata looked at both of them. “Faith, who is this man?”
Faith stood up. “His name is Inigo,… I’m sorry, I forgot your last name,” she said, looking at the man.
“Eshun. Inigo Eshun,” he said, walking towards Samata.
The other woman took a step back, and Inigo stopped his approach.
“He is the janitor for the school,” Faith explained. “He found the children in the kitchen when we were with Yvette.”
“Where did the children get the balls they are playing with?” Samata asked.
“From Mr. Eshun,” Faith said. “He has the keys for all of the rooms here.”
“And it is time for me to go, as I have other responsibilities today,” Inigo said. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Ms. Opoku. Please share my offer with Ms. Elba. I’ll return this evening with my wife, my son and two daughters. We don’t have enough room to host you in our house. But we’ll bring food for the evening meal and we’ll eat it together here with you, if that is okay.”
Samata continued looking at them both, still unsure as to what was happening.
“That would be wonderful, Mr. Eshun. Thank you,” Faith said.
And with that, Inigo Eshun bowed his head slightly and walked towards the door.
Samata stepped aside, giving the man a wide berth. Once he was gone, she turned to Faith.
“What is he doing here?” Samata asked Faith. “Are we in trouble for being in the school?”
“No, we’re not in trouble,” Faith answered. “Apparently the school is shut down since they couldn’t get teachers to return. But Mr. Inigo would like to change that. Please, sit down, Samata, we need to talk.”
Samata took a seat at a table, and Faith joined her.
“First, how is Yvette?” Faith said.
“She is taking a nap,” Samata said. “Her morning sickness is worse than mine was, but I believe she’ll be ok in an hour, as long as the children don’t wake her.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Faith said. “And about Mr. Eshun now. Like I said, I found him in the room with the children when I returned earlier. He was talking to them when I came in, so I’m guessing he got some news from them. He sent them outside to play, and then asked me about how we came to be here. I told him about my entire trip from Kumasi, how I agreed to bring Yvette, how we met you in Techiman, and how we came to care for each of the children. I told him we were both former teachers. He wants us to stay here and teach the local children for First Semester. He said he and the other parents will find a place for us to stay and provide us food and supplies.”
Similar to a few minutes earlier, Faith paused to let the offer sink in for Samata. But Samata was much quicker to catch on to what was being said.
“What did you tell him,” the older woman asked.
“I didn’t answer,” Faith said. “You came along right when he asked, so I had no time to think about it. Besides, I needed to talk to you, since he wants both of us to teach.”
“What is there to think about!” Samata said. “We’ve been walking for two weeks, finding it a struggle more days than not to find enough to feed all these children. Yes, I wanted to leave Techiman. But I’m tired of walking, Faith. So I’m not sure I would continue with you the same way we’ve been travelling. You refuse to take a trans trip, and when I suggest it to you, you get almost as hysterical as Yvette did when the boys put lizards in her backpack. You seem to have two personalities sometimes, Faith. I’m not saying this to be hurtful. But I see no other option but to take up the janitor’s offer. Either that, or I need to return to Techiman, as this is not going anywhere close to the way I thought it would.”
Faith nodded and didn’t immediately reply.
Then, after a quiet moment, with the sounds of the children from the central yard drifting in through the door, Faith spoke. “I must apologize, Samata. I am sorry for getting upset with you about the travel. I am sorry for yelling at Yvette. You are correct. I have no idea what she is going through. I would love to have children someday, but I’m too afraid to be with a man. But I realize I need to trust someone, and you are honest with your thoughts that I think you would be a good person to trust. Would that be okay with you?”
Samata gave a small, pensive nod.
“I won’t take a trans trip any longer since that scam transpod took our luggage,” Faith shared. “If I lose trust in something, I stay away from it. And I also feel I need to control the situation better in the future. It goes back to when I was a young girl.”
“My father worked for the University of Ghana, and my parents had taken a trip to a conference in New York City. The flight they were on coming home was the Ashanti Air 427 crash in 2071. I was eight years old at the time. I was staying with my mother’s sister when my parents went on their trip, and my Aunt took me in full-time after that. It didn’t make any sense to me why the airplane crashed, since my mother told me airplanes were incredibly reliable and they would be safer on an airplane than in a transpod on the N1. My Aunt explained to me that the plane ran into a surprise storm over the ocean, two of the engines on one side of the airplane had been directly hit by lightning and stopped working, and the winds were too strong for the pilots to control the plane with the other two engines on the other wing. I said I wanted to become someone who could make an engine that wouldn’t be hurt by lightning. My Aunt told me that was a job for an engineer and said I had to study very hard to become one.”
“We lived in a small but nice apartment in Tema. My Aunt was a nurse at Tema General Hospital. My Uncle was an accountant for the city government. He worked during the day, and my Aunt had the evening shift, so there was always someone at home with me and my cousins.”
“I shared a room with my two girl cousins. They were both younger, one seven years old and the other was five when I moved in. It was fun being with them, as I was an only child. They looked up to me and treated me like an older sister. When my Aunt was at work four days a week, my Uncle would help us get ready for bed after dinner.”
“At first, we would all hop in the shower and get cleaned up together, like any time I had ever been there before. My Aunt and my Mother were very close, so I had been to stay with their family quite often growing up. But after a month or so, my Uncle said we were making too much of a mess being in the bathroom at the same time. He had my cousins bathed and put them to bed, then he told me to get in the shower. He stayed in the bathroom with me, which I didn’t think anything of, since he had done the same when all three of us had showered together. I wondered why he didn’t say anything to me, when he was in there, since when it was the three of us, he was always telling us to quiet down and not splash so much. He just watched me.”
“Then, after a week of this, when my Aunt was at work and my cousins had fallen asleep, he told me it was time for my shower. This time, while he was watching, he unzipped his pants and began pleasing himself. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was cleaning himself. I was too silly to know any different. While it didn’t happen every time I showered, this occurred at least once a week. And after a month or so, one night after my cousins were asleep and my Aunt was at the hospital again, my Uncle was watching me shower, and he asked if I would help clean him. He had me hold him, and told me to put it in my mouth to get it really clean. You can imagine my surprise when he ejaculated. I spit it out and asked him what happened. He laughed and said that was a good sign, since that was cleaning out the inside. He said my Aunt did the same for him, and would be proud that her niece could help him like that. But he made me promise not to tell her, saying she would be very jealous and upset, since she wanted to be the one to take care of everyone. My Aunt always was taking care of people, so I believed him.”
“That went on for another month with multiple times my Uncle watching me shower and having me help get him “clean”. Then one night when my Aunt was home, and she was getting us ready for bed, she told us all to get in the shower. When I said I would wait my turn, my Aunt asked me what I was talking about. I told her how Uncle said we made too much of a mess being in there together. She laughed and said how could we make a mess with clean water and told me to get in with my cousins.”
“The next day when my Uncle was at work, my Aunt took me aside to ask me about my shower habits. I said I always made sure I was clean, and besides, Uncle would be in there watching me to make sure. I remember that she had me repeat what I said. Then she asked me to be more detailed about what happened. I told her he would watch me shower and he would clean himself, and I let it slip that I sometimes helped him get “clean”. She had me explain what I was talking about. I remember the look of shock on her face when I told her. I quickly apologized and said I didn’t mean to take her job, since Uncle told me she was the one that wanted to keep him “clean”. She nearly fainted. When her head cleared, she began crying, and hugged me tight. She looked me in the eyes and said I shouldn’t do that anymore, and that no one needed to be in the bathroom when I showered.”
“That evening, my Aunt met my Uncle outside the apartment before he came inside. They got into an argument right away. I could hear him yelling at her through the doorway, saying she was stupid to believe a young girl that was making up lies. He said my Aunt should ask my cousins if they ever saw this. Of course, they didn’t since he always made sure they were sleeping whenever he watched me. My Aunt didn’t believe him however. She told him he couldn’t come in. She asked me a few more questions the next day. When everything I said remained consistent with my earlier stories, she had someone come and change the locks on the apartment door. None of us girls were allowed to go outside without her. And she called off from work the rest of that week.”
“The next week, my Aunt explained that my Uncle would not be coming back. My cousins didn’t understand and wanted to see their father. But my Aunt wouldn’t allow it. Within less than a month, she got a divorce from him. We moved apartments and found one closer to my Grandmother. My Aunt eventually returned to work, and my Grandmother would come over to watch us the nights my Aunt was at the hospital.”
“My Aunt was too ashamed to ever tell me what my Uncle was doing to me. It wasn’t until middle-school health class when I learned about sex. My classmates made fun of me when we talked after that lesson, and they realized no one had told me about boys and girls at my home. I finally figured out what he had done to me when I thought about it more that school year. But, like my Aunt, I was too embarrassed to talk about it. And I blamed myself for my Aunt and Uncle getting divorced, thinking I should have been smart enough to realize what my Uncle was doing to me.”
Faith continued talking, but her gaze was at the floor instead of on Samata. “The topic never came up again. My Aunt bought me tampons and taught me how to use them when I started having my monthly cycle, but she never talked to me about boys. I had no interest in dating, since I thought the boys would be like my Uncle. And when my cousins were old enough to take an interest in boys, and they wanted to talk to me about the ones they thought were cute, I told them to stay away from boys, since they were nothing but trouble. That’s when us girls started drifting apart. I focused all my energies on studies, and wouldn’t go out to dances or parties with my cousins. I decided I no longer wanted to be an engineer, but instead to be a teacher so I could help children learn everything they needed to know. When I left for University, I rarely called my Aunt or my cousins. My Grandmother was really the only family I kept in touch with, and she died in my third year at University.”
Faith paused, still looking at the ground, tears streaming from her eyes down her cheeks.
Samata slowly leaned towards Faith and gently lifted her head so they looked eye to eye.
“You sweet, young woman,” Samata said softly. “Your Uncle was a terrible, horrible man. You have nothing to be ashamed of, as you were not aware of what he was doing to you. You are not to blame for anything he did to you, the pain he caused you or your Aunt, or for their divorce. That is all on him. Do you understand?”
Faith nodded. “I know that now. I know what he did was despicable. I know that I can’t change the past, but I want to make things better for the future, for my future.”
“You can!,” Samata confirmed. “And you are a strong woman, I can see. You have to remain strong and true to yourself, and your future will be what you want it to be.”
“I want to believe that,” Faith said, wiping away some of the tears still falling. “Do you recall me telling you I visited a cousin in Mankranso?”
Samata nodded, holding her breath.
“It was the older sister from that family,” Faith said. “I hadn’t seen her in person since my Grandmother’s funeral. My cousin had married while she was part way through university. She left school when she got pregnant her final year at school. Now she has two children and is expecting the third. I wanted to try and reconcile my relationship with her, since I wasn’t sure if I would see her again, and I wanted to meet her children.”
“It was a wonderful visit, and went much smoother than I would have imagined when I contacted her after we had been in town a couple of days. She insisted we stay with them, and had her two young children sleep in the bedroom with her and her husband so Mensã and I would have a room to sleep in. She knew we had plans to leave Mankranso at the beginning of August, and she didn’t judge me for wanting to go to a remote area. So when she told me about Yvette and said I would really help out that family if I could get Yvette to Techiman, I agreed more as a favor to her for being so kind and hospitable to us. Her husband had a job with Ghana Rail, and was able to get discounted trans tickets no matter what the mode of travel, so I also accepted the gift of the trans tickets without complaint.”
“It was all going so smoothly until our final day in Mankranso. The morning we were leaving, she said she had one more gift for us. I insisted she had done too much, and been too nice to us, but she said this was the one she was most excited about and it cost her nothing. I had an odd feeling, but I couldn’t refuse.”
“So, right before noon, her commblock rang and she went to her balcony to take the call. I could see her waving at someone at the street level, but couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then she turned around and told me her father was coming upstairs to have lunch with us. I was speechless at first. Her mother had forbidden the girls from seeing their father when we all lived together. And when I saw her at Grandmother’s funeral, it came up that she hadn’t seen him since the divorce, since she wondered if he would show up to pay his respects.”
“I asked her how she met up with him, and she said that when her first child had been born, she felt the need for her father to see his grandchild. Once she tracked him down, she discovered that he was living in Toase, less than thirty minutes away. It took some time, she said, but they had become close again, especially after her second child was born.”
“I couldn’t think of anything other than not wanting to be in that apartment when her father arrived. I rushed into the bedroom Mensã and I were sharing, told Mensã we had to leave immediately, and threw everything not yet packed into my bag in less than a minute. My cousin had followed me, asking what I was doing. When I told her I didn’t want to see her father, she got upset. I never explained why, since she either didn’t know about what had happened to me, or she didn’t believe it to be true. When I wouldn’t stop packing, and I grabbed the bags for both Mensã and I and started for the door, she started screaming at me, even trying to grab a bag from my hand, knocking it to the ground. At this point, her two-year old was crying in fright, her older daughter was backed up against the wall not saying anything, and Mensã wasn’t sure what to do. I’m surprised any of us heard the apartment doorbell ring.”
“While she went to answer the door, yelling at me on the way that we couldn’t leave, I quickly picked up the bag, told Mensã to follow me closely and not stop, and marched towards the door. I wasn’t sure how I was getting out of the apartment, but I knew I would jump off the balcony to get away from him if needed.”
“By the time I got to the front of the apartment, my cousin had opened the door and my Uncle was standing right in the middle of the doorway, blocking the entrance.” Faith gave the slightest shake of her head from side-to-side.
“I remember the exact words that came out of his mouth,” Faith said. “‘Hello Faith! So good to see you! And my, what a fine young woman you’ve grown up to be.'” I was frozen in place and couldn’t move. I didn’t look up at him, but didn’t turn away either. Then I felt someone grab one of the bags and saw Mensã beside me. He took his backpack, walked past me, and shoved my Uncle out of the way, even though that man was two-and-a-half times his size. That got me out of my shock enough that I was able to quickly follow. My cousin was yelling at me as I went down the hallway, saying I had to come back and that I was disrespecting my Uncle. When she said that, I turned around and told her she should not let her children alone with that man, no matter what happened, and I walked down the stairs and never turned back.”
“So when the scam transpod left with our luggage that afternoon, there was no way I was going to call her to get help. And when you offered to get us trans tickets, all I could think of was that my cousin’s husband would find out through his job where we were travelling, he would tell my cousin, and she would tell her father. I’m sorry I was so rude to you about the tickets.”
Samata was now crying. “Please, dear, … please do not apologize for any of this!” she said.
“And when I found out earlier this morning that Yvette left us to be with her boyfriend, I got so angry at her, wondering how she could be so stupid to trust a male, even if he is a boy. I thought she should have known that he would get her pregnant. But I think I was more upset at myself and too afraid to admit it.”
“What are you talking about?” Samata said. “I told you none of that was your fault.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about anything I just mentioned. I’m talking about what happened in Nkoranza,” Faith said, the tears finally stopping.
“You remember the attacker who found us in Obo’s parents’ house?” Faith asked Samata.
Samata nodded. “Yes. You took action, Faith. You were in control of that situation when you scared him away. And you saved Yvette.”
Faith didn’t nod in agreement or shake her head in disagreement. She didn’t smile or frown. Instead, she continued her explanation of events in the same matter-of-fact voice she used to describe to her students how ice changes to water and then to steam as the heat is increased. “There was that man who forced Obo to let him past the gate. And I did find him in the back garden like I told you. I gave a slightly different story to Inigo, the janitor just now. I didn’t tell him that by the time I got to the back, the attacker had already found his knife. And I didn’t tell Inigo that the attacker had Yvette pinned against the wall with the knife at her throat as he was trying to unbutton her blouse. I did tell him I got a shovel and scared the attacker away, but I didn’t tell him I was able to sneak up from behind and hit him on the head. Well, my story that I told all of you once I came inside wasn’t completely honest as well.”
“After I hit him with the shovel, he was unconscious on the ground. Yvette went inside when I told her to go hide with the rest of you. After she left, when I went back to the attacker and grabbed the knife next to his hand, he was still lying on the ground. He did not wake up like I told you, and I didn’t chase him out of the house grounds. Instead, when I saw him there, I thought about what he had done to Obo’s mother. I thought about what he would have done to Yvette if I hadn’t come back at that time. And I thought about what my Uncle had done to me. I took the shovel and began bashing his head, over and over again. By the time I finished, his skull had caved in, his ear and chunks of his cheek were missing, and there was no doubt he would ever trouble anyone again.”
Samata’s eyes were huge, and she held her hand over her mouth in shock.
Faith continued. “You are completely correct when you tell me that I have no fault for what happened to me as a child. And I think I can likely be forgiven for how I reacted to my cousin or perhaps even to you with the trans tickets. But I have to accept responsibility for some of my actions.”
“I’m tired, Samata. I’m tired of trying to control everything in life. I’m tired of running away. Running away from the aliens. Running away from my Uncle. Running away from what I did to that attacker. Don’t misunderstand me. I would do the same thing again, if given the chance. But I have to acknowledge and accept what happened to make a better future for me.”
“So I’m going to stay here as well. At least for the First Semester. I don’t plan on going to the police to confess what happened in Nkoranza. But if they find the attacker’s body where I buried it, and if they trace his death to me here, I won’t deny it.”
“I also won’t ask you to hide my secret. If you choose to tell the police, I fully accept that decision. I had to tell someone before it ripped me apart. Now I’ve said everything I need to say, and can focus on the future and on caring for these children. You are correct that I would do anything for them. Even, and perhaps now more than before, especially for Yvette. But you have to be aware of who I am. If you’ll accept me here, I’ll stay. If not, I’ll take Mensã and whomever else you don’t want to care for, and we’ll leave tomorrow.”
Faith looked at Samata, waiting for a response.
Samata returned Faith’s gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, Samata folded her hands on her knees. “You are a little more than half my age, yet you’ve experienced twice as much as I will have seen in my entire life, including all my years left to come. I am not a judge. I am a teacher. I know what it means to care for a child as both a teacher and a mother. And I can tell you truly care for these children. If you are willing to do what you say – care for and teach these children as long as they will have you, and accept the consequences of your actions in Nkranzo, then I am willing to accept you.”
Faith’s stiff shoulders collapsed and she began sobbing again.
“You’d better bring some of that self-control back, young woman,” Samata said. “You don’t want your students to see you crying like that do you?”
Faith shook her head and wiped the additional tears away until they stopped.
“Good,” Samata said, taking Faith’s hand and standing up. “Now let’s go find our classrooms. I think we’ll need the largest one’s here, don’t you?”