Chapter 45
The school teacher heard someone calling for her. “Hello, Faith? I thought you said you would be in your classroom.”
“Hello Samata! I’m in the upper class room next door,” Faith responded.
Her peer instructor came through the doorway. “What are you doing here? I thought you had pulled all of your students into one room.”
“I did, but I wanted to get this room ready for George, Mensa and Ohemaa so they can take practice exams this week and be ready for their first BECEs the following week,” Faith explained. “I was thinking of Social Studies, English and Mathematics the first week, Integrated Science, Language and Culture and Information Technology the second week, and then finishing with Design and Industrial Technology, and Religious and Moral Education in the last week. And Ohemaa would really like to take French, so she would take that in Week Three as well. What do you think?”
“I think you can forget about the French exam,” the other teacher said.
“Oh, Samata, I know I’ve not been focusing on that subject with Ohemaa, but she so much wants to see what she has learned. She has been studying a lot on her own, and found the online FSL lessons with the classroom in Lyon. She would be so disappointed if I didn’t allow her to take the exam.”
“Ohemaa is not returning,” Samata said, trying not to sound disappointed. “Albertha Nkrumah contacted me this morning and said she, her husband, Ohemaa and Osei are leaving town and going to stay with her husband’s brother’s family in Ejura. He works for a grain cooperative there and they think they will have better access to a steady supply of corn meal and other food supplies. She thinks some of the land that the cooperative was managing won’t be planted this year, and that perhaps they can cultivate it for themselves.”
Faith’s shoulders had slumped upon hearing the news. When Samata finished the explanation, Faith straightened her back. “Then it will be George and Mensa taking the exams.”
“Oh, please, Faith, don’t waste your time like that,” George’s mother said. “You know George won’t pass any of the exams.”
“I told you that my friend, Gideon, gave me the access codes for the Ministry of Education’s Central Administration System,” Faith said. “So I found the area where they have the modified BECE they put together for the students with learning disabilities. He’ll be able to take six exams. And he is so proud that he will be taking them along with Mensa. Please don’t deny him that chance, Samata.”
“I won’t stop you, my Dear Ms. Opuku, but I really don’t think it will make any difference,” Samata continued. “You and I both know this is the last time George will be in a classroom, and I don’t think anything he learns here, especially whether he passes a BECE or not, will make any difference.”
“I respectfully disagree, Samata,” Faith retorted. “I think his independence, self-confidence, critical thinking and self-control have all improved in the four months since we’ve been here.”
Ms. Elba sat in one of the student desks and gave her peer a soft smile. “You have definitely found your calling, Faith. I wish I had half the conviction you do about how my students can grow,” she said. “And you have made a difference with George. He is blessed to have you in his life.
“And we are all blessed to have George in our lives,” Faith said, her cheeks shining slightly. “He can bring a calming presence to a room. There were many times in that first month when his example would help quiet the other students. Especially when Yvette would start to get excited and the others would begin to react. He would reach up from his desk right behind her, and gently pat her shoulder with his big hand and ask ‘May I get you some water?’ At first Yvette thought he was teasing her, but she could see he was sincere and that made her pause. I nearly cried when I saw her walk up to him a few weeks later in the central space. They talked for ten minutes or so – just the two of them in the corner under the guava tree – and she gave him a big hug afterwards. I have no idea what they talked about, but I’m convinced she would have left earlier had it not been for George.”
“You haven’t heard from her, have you?” Samata asked.
“No,” Faith replied, sitting herself in a desk next to the other teacher. “I tried again last week. No acknowledgement. It doesn’t even indicate if the message was delivered. I miss her, even though we never really got along. And I’m worried about her.”
“I am as well,” Samata said. “This is when she needs support from someone who knows what she is going through. Are you sure you don’t remember her Aunt’s name in Techiman?”
“I don’t,” Faith said, staring at the floor. Then, looking into her friend’s eyes, “I tried to remember the street where her Aunt lived, but there were too many things happening at that point that I don’t recall. And searching through PeopleFinder doesn’t bring up any clues. I asked the other children in class, but none of them were that close to her. She kept herself separate from the other girls. I even contacted some of the students or their parents originally in my class that had already left before January.”
“So you had twenty-seven in your classroom in October?” Samata asked.
“Twenty-eight,” Faith answered. “But one boy only showed up two days that first week. And when I contacted his parents that weekend, they said if he didn’t want to go, they weren’t going to force him. I think the family left town before Farmer’s Day. It’s hard to keep track of them all. How many children did you have that first week?”
“Thirty-five bouncing bodies aged six through 10,” Samata said, her eyes widening. “I don’t know if I could ever do that again with that many children. But, sadly, I never got to learn how long I could keep it up. I don’t understand why people were leaving town before two weeks ago? I mean, nothing was really changing, so there was no real reason to think life would be better somewhere else. Yet, half my class dripped away over three months.”
“I have a hard time accepting that half of those still here two weeks ago are now gone,” Faith commented. “Is it that bad in the world now, Samata? Should we be leaving Atebubu?”
“Where should we go?” her friend asked in response. “I don’t have skills that are good for survival in the savannah, the jungle, or the mountains. I’m not a farmer. And this body can’t do hard labor like building cabins in the forest. So we have a good position here that I plan on keeping for as long as…”
“Na! Na!” a young girl’s shout stopped Samata in mid-sentence. “Na! Where are you? Oh we need you!”
Both Samata and Faith jumped up from their seats.
“I’m in here, Akuah!” the mother called to her daughter as she went to the door of the classroom. “What is happening?”
“Oh, please, come quickly,” Akuah said, running to where she heard her mother’s voice.
“I’m right here,” Samata said, stepping out of the room onto the sidewalk.
“No, you’ve got to come with me,” her daughter said. “They took him!”
Omo came running into the courtyard. He stopped when he saw mother and daughter talking, and rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
“What are you talking about, girl?” Samata asked her daughter. “Who took who? Are the older boys picking on someone?”
“It’s George! They took George!” Akuah said in frustration.
“The boys are picking on George?” Faith chimed in. “That’s not like them”
Akuah shook her head. “No, the men took George!” and she started to tear up.
Samata grabbed her daughter by the shoulders. “Which men?”
“I don’t know them!” Akuah sobbed.
Faith motioned for Omo to come over.
“Akuah, you are safe with us here,” Faith said. “Calm down and tell us what happened.”
The girl took a big breath. “We were playing in the park when these three men came up and grabbed Ama and I. I was screaming and fighting but they wouldn’t let me alone. Then the man who was holding me didn’t hold so hard, so I bit him and he dropped me on the ground. Then he went after George. George told me to run and he tried to fight them, but the two men didn’t let him go and put him in their transvan and left.”
“I thought you said three men came up,” Samata said.
“There were three men,” Omo offered. “When we heard the girls screaming, we came over. One man was carrying Ama. One man tried to pull Akuah. And the other man was walking from their transvan. Then George came up from behind and hit the man who had Ama in the head. He fell down and let Ama go. Then Akuah bit the other man. So the other man came over, they shouted at George and they grabbed him and took him.”
“Took him where!” Samata demanded.
“We don’t know,” Akuah said. “They were cursing at George and said he would be as good as two. George tried to fight them, but they were too big!”
“Where are the others? Did they take Ama or anyone else?” Faith asked.
“No, just George,” Akuah answered. “I came to get you as soon as I could.”
“And what about Ama and Mensa and Kwesi?” Faith asked again. “Where are they?”
“Ama was following Obo and I, but I guess she couldn’t keep up,” the girl said, tugging on her mother’s arm. “Mensa said he and Kwesi were going to tie up the man who George hit. Oh, please, Na, please come to the park. We need to find George!”
Samata’s reply was to grab her daughter’s hand and started running towards the courtyard exit.
“Obo, come with me,” Faith said.
The teacher ran back into her classroom, grabbed her commblock, and then began running to catch up with Samata and Akuah.
After a short distance, Faith came even with the pair. Samata waved her forward. “Go! You can get there faster.”
After another few hundred meters, they found Ama sitting on the side of the path.
The girl’s face went from dejection to joy. “Miss Faith!” she shouted and ran to her caregiver.
Faith bent over and scooped up the child.
“I couldn’t keep up with Obo and Akuah, Miss Faith,” the young girl explained. “So I just sat down since I wasn’t sure where to go.”
“That’s ok, Ama,” Faith comforted her. “You’re with us now. But you need to come along with us back to the park.”
“No! The bad men are there,” Ama noted.
Faith set the girl on her feet. “The bad men that took George are gone. But we need to get back there to see what is happening with the man that Mensa and Kweisi are guarding. Take my hand, Ama. We need to run to get there.”
When the three arrived at the park, Obo directed her to the perimeter near the road. There they saw Mensa and Kweisi standing next to a tree, with a man sitting on the ground, his back to the tree. As they got closer, Faith could see the man was tied to the trunk of the tree with vines, his hands bound together on the opposite side of the trunk. Palm fronds were across his mouth and tied around the back of his head, creating a makeshift gag.
“Did you find him?” Kweisi asked.
“Find who?” Faith asked in return.
“George! Did you find George?” the boy responded.
“No, we came straight here when we heard the news,” the teacher said. “Mensa, Is this the man that attacked George?”
“Yes, Ms. Opuku,” her star student replied.
“Why did you gag him like that?” she asked.
“Because he woke up when we were almost done tying him up, and he began to scream and cuss at us,” Mensa answered. “I didn’t like what he was saying and I didn’t want the other men to hear him and come back to try and help him.”
Faith nodded.
“Look!,” Kweisi pointed across the park. “It’s Ms. Elba! “
They all turned to see Akruah now sprinting across the park, with Samata following behind.
Faith turned back to the bound man.
“Tell me what happened, Mensa,” Faith instructed.
“We were walking back home when I heard the girls start to scream,” Mensa started.
“Where were they?” Faith asked
“They were behind us,” the boy said. “They were walking slower and singing silly songs. So when they stopped singing and started screaming, we all turned around. One man had picked up Ama, and the other man had his arms around Akuah, trying to lift her. George shouted ‘Put them down!’ but I don’t think they heard him since the girls were making so much noise. So George started running back to where they were. Then a transvan came around the curve on the road and another man got out. George told them again to put down the girls, and the man holding Ama laughed and turned to the man who got out of the van and told him to get George. But when he looked away, George came up and punched the first man on the side of his head. The man fell down and dropped Ama. The other one holding Akuah screamed, and I saw Akuah scramble away from him.”
Mensa continued, “So the man coming out of the transvan came after George and said something to him. George turned to the girls and told them to run away, and George and the man started wrestling. The one from the transvan told the other man to help him, and they were finally able to drag George over to the transvan, they looked back and saw the third man on the ground, one said something to the other, and they got in the transvan and it drove away.”
“What did the one man say to George before they started fighting?” Faith asked.
“I don’t know,” Mensa said, the look of resolve he had on his face from the moment Faith arrived turning to embarrassment. “They were too far away and I was afraid to come over to them.”
“That was a smart thing to do, Mensa,” Faith said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You saw what they did to George, and he is much bigger than all of you. So how did you get this man here?”
The stern look returned to Mensa’s face. “I saw the man breathing but not moving. George must have hit him so hard that the man went unconscious. I told Kweisi that we should tie him up so he couldn’t come after us. Then I told Obo to take the girls back to the school and find you and Ms. Elba. We stayed here to guard this man until you arrived.”
Samata approached the group, breathing heavily from the exertion. She walked past Faith and the children, and started kicking the man tied to the tree and slapping his face. “Where is my son! What have you done with my boy!” she shouted.
Faith waited a moment, then pulled the angry mother off the kidnapper.
“We will get George back,” Faith said, holding her friend’s arm back. “We need to talk to this man to find George.”
Faith went over to the man, who flinched slightly as she approached.
“I’m not going to attack you,” she said, “but if you don’t answer our questions, I’ll let this woman deal with you as she wants.”
The man’s eyes glared at Faith and he mumbled something through the palm gag.
“How did you get this man tied up so well?” Faith said, examining the vines around the man’s waist, chest and shoulders.
“These vines are stretchy, so they tighten their hold if given the chance,” Mensa explained. “We had him pretty tight, but when he tried to move around and get free, the vines started holding him tighter. In fact, I had to pull that top one down from his neck since it slid up there and started choking him. I think that’s the only reason he stopped trying to get free.”
“You truly do some amazing things, Mister Amoako,” Faith said with a nod.
Turning back to the man, she asked him, “So you’ll talk to us?”
He continued to glare at her.
“Very well, if you don’t cooperate, I’ll put the gag back on and we’ll just leave you here to rot,” Faith said as she undid the knot on the palm frond and pulled it from the man’s face.
“You stupid anụ,” the man spat. “Let me loose now and I don’t kill you.”
Faith slapped the man across the face.
“Do not talk to me like that,” she said. “You are bound and going nowhere.”
“My friends come back and get all of you!” the man replied in imperfect Akan.
“And why would your friends want us,” Faith said.
“You all go to Toumodi, just like stupid big boy,” the man snarled. “We give you to aliens and we stay here.”
“You’re trying to take us to the elevator?” Faith said, looking slightly confused.
“We give people to aliens and my boss says we stay here. You stupid woman, you fat woman and you stupid children easy to take. Maybe I have fun with you on the way to Toumodi?” the man said, sticking out his tongue and wiggling it around.
Faith slapped him again.
“They took George to Toumodi?” Samata moaned. “They are going to send him on one of those ships? They can’t do that to him! He needs us to take care of him! Oh, Lord, what is happening!”
“Samata,” Faith said, “please calm down. We will find George. We’ll contact the police and tell them George has been taken and they can put an image search in the highway monitor to see where he is at when his image is scanned by the cameras.”
“You stupid anụ,” the man said. “No camera see him. Boy in back of van with no window.”
Samata wailed.
Faith went over to her friend. “We’ll return to the school and make our plans,” she said. “Akuah & Kweisi, help Ms. Elba and walk her back to school. Ama, take Mensa’s hand and he and Obo will make sure you get back.”
“What about you, Ms. Opuku,” Mensa asked.
“I’ll be right behind you,” she said. “I’m going to ask this man a few more questions.”
The children and woman started walking across the park.
Faith turned back and walked over to the bound man.
“You have one last chance,” she said. “Tell me what route they are taking and I won’t put the gag back on you.”
“I give you one last chance,” the man replied. “Take out my amụ and you can…”
Faith didn’t let the man finish. She slapped him so hard that he head snapped sideways and his cheek hit the trunk of the tree. The force of the blow stunned him.
“I changed my mind,” Faith said, pulling two of the vines up from the man’s shoulders so they clung to his neck. “I won’t gag your mouth. But these should help you learn when you are not in control.”
Faith stepped back as the vines began tightening.
“Take them off!” the man demanded, with quick breaths. “Take them off!” his voice quickly became strained.
Faith turned around and walked away, not looking back as she heard sounds of coughing and wheezing coming from the tree.
The younger teacher was able to catch up with the group by the time they had crossed the park. Ama pulled Mensa over so she could hold Faith’s hand at the same time.
“What else did he tell you?” Samata asked her friend.
“Nothing useful,” Faith replied.
“What did you do with the bad man?” Ama asked.
“I left him tied to the tree,” Faith answered.
“Won’t he get hungry?” Ama questioned.
“Like you said, Ama, he is a bad man. He has to learn his lesson. So I left him tied to the tree. And I made sure he won’t bother anyone ever again,” Faith said.
Both Mensa and Samata looked at Faith.
“Ever again,” Faith repeated.
Mensa’s eye rounded and his brow furrowed with worry.
“I have to go find George,” Samata said. “If that means I’m going to Toumodi, then so be it. Don’t try to talk me out of it, and don’t say you’ll go with me. I need to move as fast as I can and having four more people trailing along will not help. Besides, I don’t expect you to go near any of those elevators.”
“If it were just me, I would gladly go by myself and walk right up to the gate to find George,” Faith stated. “But it isn’t just me, like you said. I won’t try to stop you, Samata. I still think we should contact the police and have them put a search in place.”
“You remember what it was like in Nkoranza,” Samata noted. “And that was four months ago. And before the world really started getting crazy. What makes you think they will be any better or have any more interest here in Atebubu? Who knows if they are even working if it’s so easy for a child to be kidnapped in a city park in the middle of the day.”
“We have to try, Samata. We can’t give up hope,” the younger teacher said.
“You can’t give up, Faith,” the older teacher noted. “In fact, it is your name that is influencing your life. But, please, do not lose that hope in the future and that faith in humanity. You will need it. I need to find my son right now. So every minute I stay in this town is one minute further behind I am from those men driving him to his death. I’m going to find a validated transpod, and have it drive me and Akuah straight to Toumodi, with no stops along the way. And we will watch for George’s arrival. And I promise you we will ask for help from the police, from the authorities, from anyone who seems willing or able to aid in the search. But if you really want to help right now, you will help me gather the children’s clothing when we get back to our house.”
“Yes, I will help with that,” Faith answered demurely.
The remainder of the ten-minute walk to the house that the school janitor had located for the two teachers and their wards was mostly quiet for the two women. Akuah asked how far Toumodi was, which Faith answered. And Obo and Kweisi started talking about what they would do to the other two men if they found them, complete with descriptions of how they would punch them harder than what George had to the one man they had tied up. And then how the ropes and knots on the other two would be three times as many as they had used on the man they had left in the park. The two boys tried to get Mensa to join in the bravado, but the boy who was now the oldest of the children in the group could sense the mood and told the younger boys to stop their chattering.
At the house, the group split up. Faith asked Mensa to gather George’s clothing and any other personal effects from the room all the boys shared. She herself went with Akuah and Ama to help the girl prepare for the trip. And Samata scrambled around the house grabbing her own items and a few things from the pantry.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone was assembled in front of the house. Six satchels and bags surrounded the mother and daughter.
“I don’t know why we are taking so many things,” Samata questioned.
“You said yourself you are going straight to Toumodi,” Faith answered. “So you have what you need to settle in for a bit there.”
“I’ll need to move around quickly,” Samata said. “I don’t want to be weighed down.”
“This is the bag with what Akuah needs, and this is the one with the other things she wants,” Faith said, pointing to two items. “I’m sure you can optimize as appropriate if that is necessary. And I’m guessing the same can be done for the two bags the boys brought down for George.”
“Oh, I wish I knew how to find him,” Samata said, nearly starting to cry as she stood there.
“God will lead you to him,” Faith replied.
“If he does, I will say a prayer of thanks to him every single day I still live,” Samata said. “I will not stop until I do find him. Even if that means going someplace I have no intention of going.”
Faith nodded her understanding.
At that moment, a well-used transpod with the logo of the biggest West African pod rental company pulled up.
“How do you know you can trust this?” Faith asked.
“I’m paying by the kilometer,” Samata answered. “It’s more expensive, but I have better control of the transaction. I don’t care if the money goes to some scammer. As long as this pod gets us there, the money can go wherever. And I said we are not getting out until we arrive.”
“How far is Toomoo?” asked Akuah.
“Toumodi,” said Faith, not able to resist her teacher’s response.
“How far is Toumodi?” asked Akuah again.
“It’s a nine-hour ride,” Faith answered.
“Nine hours? But what if I have to go to the bathroom, Na?” the girl asked her mother.
Samata held out an empty container as she was placing items in the storage portion at the back of the transpod.
“But we have to stop so I can stand over it outside,” Akuah reasoned.
“If you have to go, you go in the pod. We’ll empty it when we arrive in Toumodi,” Samata said matter-of-factly.
The response was met with a chorus of “ewww!” from the four pre-teens.
“Give everyone a hug and get in, girl,” Samata said to her daughter.
Akuah bent down and gave Ama a hug.
“Where are you going?” the young girl asked.
“On a trip to find George,” the older girl answered.
“When will you be back?” Ama asked.
“I don’t know. It might be a long time,” Akuah answered.
“As long as tomorrow?” Ama continued.
“I don’t know,” Akuah said, not sure how to respond.
Ama looked at Faith, who tried to give the six-year old a reassuring smile. Ama crossed her arms and pouted.
Akuah stood and gave a quick awkward hug to the three boys. Obo and Kweisi barely returned the hug. Mensa, however, held her firmly, saying “Take care of yourself and tell George when you find him that his brothers will be waiting for him.”
Before Akuah had a chance to respond, Faith came over to hug her. “You are a wonderful, brave, and intelligent girl, Akuah. You have a very strong mother who will take care of you. Know that we will always love you.”
Akauh stepped back, concern and confusion starting to form in her eyes as she looked at her mother.
Samata, who was giving smothering hugs to the boys, looked at her daughter and nodded for her to get in the transpod. Then she came to the woman who had been her travelling and living companion for nearly half a year.
“I wish you could come with me,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I will need your strength and positive thinking.”
“I wish we could come with you as well,” Faith replied, her tears matching those of her friend. “I will think of you and pray for the three of you each day. And when you do find George, call me. I will let you know where we have gone and you can join us again.”
“I would like that very much,” Samata said. “And may you remain blessed with your caring for these children. You are their mother now.”
Faith nodded, not able to reply.
Samata wiped her cheek and followed her daughter into the transpod, tapped her commblock, and the door of the transpod closed and it sped away.
Faith and the children watched the vehicle disappear around the corner.
Kweisi asked “Now what?” and that shook Faith out of her thoughts.
“Let’s go inside,” Faith said. “Mensa, help the others get some lunch while I contact the police.”
The children went to the kitchen while Faith went to fetch her home console. She had never had so many devices, but the ones used by the teachers in the other classrooms at the school had been gathering dust, so she brought one to their temporary home to use, at least when she should get a console connection.
Faith accessed the Police Service site, found the place to register a missing child, entered in all the details and photos she had for George, and then requested an active vehicle image search from the highway tracking cameras. She was given a message that required a live discussion with an officer, and she requested to be put in a conversation queue.
“No officers are available at this time. Please try again later,” was the response appearing on her console.
Faith repeated the live discussion request three more times before Ama came and found her.
“Kweisi said I have to wash up,” she said to Faith.
“We always wash our hands before eating, dear,” Faith replied.
“I did that,” Ama said.
“Then why are you complaining,” Faith said, finally looking up from the console.
“He wants me to wash the dishes,” the young girl replied.
“Isn’t there anything clean for you to eat on?”
“I’m done eating. They want me to wash the dirty dishes. Kweisi says I don’t do any work and I need to start doing things since Akuah is gone. When is Akuah coming back?”
“I don’t know”, Faith said, setting down the console and reaching a hand out to the girl. “Let’s find out why the boys are being mean to you.”
They found the three boys in the kitchen, Kweisi and Obo at the sink, and Mensa putting food packages away.
“Why are you boys telling Ama she has to work?” Faith asked upon entering the room.
“See!” Obo said, punching his co-washer in the arm. “I told you not to say anything!”
Kweisi turned around. “Why does she get away with everything? We have to do all the work. Why can’t she do anything?”
“Everyone does the work they can that is needed,” Faith said. “If you watch, you’ll notice that Ms. Samata and I do the majority of work in the house. Everyone is expected to do their share. Ama is not yet up to doing bigger chores, so she does what I ask her to do. Just as I don’t expect you to do the chores an adult should do. And with Ms. Samata gone, I will have to do that much more. But you don’t hear me complaining about it. Now, set those things down. We’re going over to the Eshun house, as I need to go downtown.”
On the way, Faith tried to contact Inigo on the commblock, but the connection would not go through. When they arrived at the school janitor’s house, he explained he wasn’t getting any signal.
“It’s been this way for two days, but why do I need to contact anyone any more,” Inigo said, sounding particularly glum.
Faith explained what had happened to George, how Samata and Akuah had left town, and how she was trying to contact the police.
“I can’t get anyone to respond when I request a discussion on the Police Service site, so I’m going downtown to talk to someone there,” Faith explained.
“I’m not sure that is a good idea,” Inigo said. “You shouldn’t go alone. But I can’t go right now, since I promised Bebe I would watch the girls while she is at the market.”
“Why can’t Mensa and Nana watch after the younger ones,” Faith asked.
“Nana went with Bebe,” Inigo explained. Besides, she doesn’t want any of the children left alone, and based on what you said, I think that is a good plan. Wait until she returns and I’ll go with you.”
“When did they leave?” Faith asked.
“About a quarter-hour before you arrived,” Inigo said.
“It will be at least a couple of hours til then return,” Faith said. “I can’t wait that long. I’ll be ok. Can the children stay here with you?”
“I really think you should wait,” Inigo said.
“In two hours, they will have George nearly to the border of Cote D’Ivoire. If there is any hope of the highway cameras finding George and the police stopping the vehicle, I need to go now. So, can the children stay here with you?” Faith asked, the stress of the day starting to show in her voice.
Inigo agreed.
A half-hour later, Faith walked into the main branch of the Atebubu Police. She was surprised to find no one manning the front desk, with the entrance unlocked and unguarded. She went past the front desk through the door that said “Officers and Staff Only” to find that initial room empty as well.
She was walking towards the rear of the room when she heard a buzzer and a metallic click. Looking towards the sound, a female officer came from the door labeled “Holding Cells”, lugging a carrier with a stack of empty food trays and trash.
“Excuse me, Officer,” Faith called out.
The police woman flinched slightly, one hand reaching for her side as she looked to where the voice was coming from. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.
“I want to report a missing child,” Faith said.
The officer relaxed a bit. “How many are you missing,” she said, and she continued walking with her load towards a door labeled “Supply Room”.
“Just one,” Faith said. “I went onto the Police Service site, filled in the form with his information and requested a conversation so they could do a highway camera search for him. But no one was available for a live conversation, so I came down here.”
“Well, I don’t have time to take your details, Miss, so I’m sorry if you wasted your time coming here,” the police woman said.
“I’ll talk to someone else,” Faith responded.
The officer set her load of trays and trash on a desk. “There isn’t anyone else,” she said. “I’m the only person that showed up for my shift today. My supervisor isn’t answering his commblock. I can’t reach the Police Chief, and my friends said they decided it wasn’t worth coming in any more. I have fifty emergency calls waiting for me to get to, and I don’t know if there will be anyone I can locate to get a field response. So if you want me to take your details, help me deal with all of those emergency calls first.”
“Should I go to another station to talk to someone about the missing child?” Faith asked.
“Do you know how many missing children have been reported this year? One-thousand nine-hundred and eighty-two just in our District capital,” the police woman said. “I saw the updated number when I checked in at the start of my shift. So it likely has gone up since then. And of that, three hundred just in the past two weeks. So one more missing child isn’t likely to have any luck being found. Besides, it won’t do any good since there are not enough police to track down the child even if he is seen. You might as well be happy with the ones you have left. And if that was your only child, you have my condolences. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to deal with the emergencies of the rest of the city.”
And with that, the officer picked up her load and disappeared behind another door.
Faith sat down at one of the chairs nearest to her. She stared at the door the police woman had left by, her face expressionless.
As dusk was setting in, Mensa was pacing along the street in front of the Eshun house, continuing his look west towards the city center.
As the temperature was dropping quickly and the light was fading even faster, he stopped, looked hard, then ran to the door of the house. “She’s coming!” he shouted. Then the boy ran down the street.
“Miss Faith!” the boy shouted, running up to his teacher. “Miss Faith! Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you. I heard Mr. Eshun say to his wife he told you not to go downtown and was sure you had been attacked. Are you okay?”
Faith Opuku gave her student the faintest smile possible. “I’m fine. Just fine. Is it time to go?”
“Go where, Miss Faith?” Mensa asked, the worried tone returning to his voice. “It’s nearly nighttime. I don’t think we should go anywhere.”
“Really? Do you think so?” Faith asked, not as if she were agreeing or disagreeing, but simply trying to make sure she heard properly.
“Please, Miss Faith, take my hand. If you are giving a joke, I don’t understand it,” Mensa said, reaching out to his teacher.
She held out both arms. In one hand, she had her commblock in a grip so tight her fingertips were a different color. In the other hand, was a crumpled paper. Mensa tried to free either hand, but the woman did not relax either grip. So the boy put his arm through hers, and guided her the rest of the way down the street.
Inigo was the first person in the household to run out after Mensa’s shout. He saw the two walking arm-in-arm and shouted back into the house. Then he jogged down the street himself to meet the two.
“Faith, we are glad to see you,” the school janitor said. “I should never have let you go by yourself.”
“I am glad to see you also,” Faith said, as if she were providing what she thought was a polite response to a statement.
He looked at Mensa who shook his head slowly.
“Is she hurt?” he asked the boy.
“I don’t think so,” Mensa said. “But I don’t know.”
Inigo’s wife came out of the door, holding a shawl. “Quickly, Bebe! Bring it here!”
The janitor’s wife came to meet them and put the shawl over Faith’s shoulders.
“Here, let me help her,” Bebe said to Mensa, trying to move Mensa out of the way.
“No! I’m not letting her go,” Mensa said.
“Here, take this side,” Inigo said, stepping back to let his wife take the other woman’s arm.
“We are glad you returned,” Bebe said softly. “I have some supper for you, and you can stay warm inside. I hear it has been a very eventful day. You can rest and we can talk about it all tomorrow.”
She kept up a slow but steady banter all the way back to their house. Upon entering, the only other child awake was Nana, who stood back and watched the group enter.
“Mensa, please, let my wife help Miss Faith get ready for bed,” Inigo said. “You can tell she needs some rest, correct? So let the two women go and come here so us men can talk.”
Mensa hesitated, then slowly released his teacher’s arm.
Faith turned and gave him another of the slight, barely present smiles and let Bebe escort her to the owners’ bedroom.
“She is in shock, isn’t she,” Mensa said to Inigo.
“I’m afraid so,” Inigo said. “Perhaps Bebe can find out why. For now, the best thing for us to do is to let them be. And I would suggest the best way you can help Miss Faith is for you to get some rest as well. Go on in with the others, and we’ll all see how she is doing in the morning.”
Mensa nodded and walked back to the room where the younger five children were already sleeping.
The next morning, the children were gathered in the kitchen finishing breakfast when Ama squealed, jumped from her stool and ran to the opening leading to the back of the house.
“Miss Faith!” she shouted. “When did you come back? You weren’t here to give me a good night kiss, and I got worried about you!”
Faith bent over, picked up the young girl and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Ama,” she said. “I came back late. It was a long day downtown. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here to give you a good night kiss. Did anyone give you one?”
“Yes, Missus Eshun did. And she told me a story about a bunny and a mouse that made me laugh,” Ama said. “But I still missed you.”
“Well, I missed you too,” Faith said. “I’ll be the one to give you the good night kiss tonight, and I’ll ask Missus Eshun to teach me the story so I can tell it to you again sometime. Will that be ok?”
Ama nodded.
“I need to talk with Mensa for a minute, so go back and finish your breakfast, ok?” Faith asked.
The young girl nodded again, and returned to her stool at the table.
“May we talk outside, Mensa?” Faith asked her favorite student. She motioned with her head towards the front door of the house and started walking outside.
“Ohhh!” both of the other boys sounded.
“You’re in trouble with the teacher now,” Obo said.
“You better hope she isn’t hiding her stick,” Kweisi commented.
Mensa glared at them, making them both go immediately quiet with the intensity of his look.
He got up from his stool and followed his elder to the front of the house.
Once outside, the student looked at his teacher, glancing from one eye to the other. “How are you feeling this morning, Miss Opoku?”
“I am much better, Mensa. Thank you for asking,” Faith said. “And I apologize for scaring you last night.”
Mensa looked at the ground. “You didn’t scare me last night, Miss Faith. I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
Faith gently pulled the boy’s chin up so she could see his eyes. “I was not myself when I came back last evening, Mensa. Nothing bad happened to me yesterday, and I wasn’t hurt. At least not on the outside. But what I saw and heard at the police station was too much for me to take in after everything that happened earlier in the day. So my mind went into a small state of shock. I was aware enough of where I was and what I was doing that I found my way back here. But I don’t remember much of the walk back here. This morning, Bebe told me how you ran down the road last night to fetch me when you saw me walking. And she told me you were very concerned about me. Thank you for helping me.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Faith,” the boy said softly. “I’ve never seen you like that, and I was worried.”
“The mistake I made was thinking I could do whatever needed to be done all by myself,” Faith continued. “That isn’t something any of us should try to do now. Many things have changed this past year. Things are changing even faster in the past few weeks, and the way we will meet these challenges is to work with and take the support of people we know. So thank you for your concern, and know I am back to my normal self this morning. Will you forgive me for scaring you like that?”
Instead of answering, Mensa grabbed his teacher, hugged her tightly, and buried his face in her shoulder.
After he collected himself, the boy relaxed his hug and stepped back. “You never have to do anything alone again, Miss Faith. I will always be there for you.”
“I know you will, Mensa. You are my strong man,” Faith said.
“Now you can help me by having Obo, Kweisi and Ama help clean up the kitchen after breakfast so we can get back to the school,” the teacher said. “And can you ask Mr. Eshun to come out here, please? I’d like to talk to him as well.”
Mensa nodded and jogged into the house.
A minute later, the school janitor came out.
“I’m glad to see you feeling better this morning, Faith,” he said.
“Thank you, Inigo,” she replied. “And thank you for taking care of me and of the children last night.”
“So what happened yesterday?” Inigo asked. “Bebe told me there was nothing physical that happened to you, so it must have been a big scare.”
“It was the realization about how much things have changed. Maybe a realization about how bad it is getting in the world,” Faith explained. “I was worried about the aliens before. But the aliens aren’t what is really scary. Humans are retreating from what we should be as naturally supportive beings that help one another. We are becoming increasingly focused on self-preservation, and not preservation as a society. We have reverted to modern slavery, capturing the vulnerable and selling them to others with more power, or handing them over to the aliens. We have lost what it means to be human. Or at least it seems that is the direction some people are going.”
“You and the other families have been so supportive of Samata and I, and you have hidden us from being exposed to that reality with all of the help you have given us. We haven’t had the need to go out in the real world for many weeks. But now that I see what is happening, I cannot ask that you continue to put yourself out there for us like that. I’ve decided it’s time for the four children and I to leave here. I’m going to take them to the other side of Lake Volta. And there we will find our way to survive.”
“Faith, I know the world is not like it used to be,” Inigo said. “but it hasn’t completely fallen apart yet.”
“It is heading in that direction, and quickly. There was only one police officer in the Central Station yesterday while I was there. And she told me there are nearly two-thousand children missing from Atebubu District. Two-thousand! I need to take the children to a place where they feel safe. I need to take them to where I can keep them safe. And that’s why I’ve decided we must leave. So I’ll go to school and tell the children that show up today that this will be the last day of school.”
Inigo interrupted her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I sent a message to the other parents letting them know what happened to Samata and George yesterday and that there would be no school today.”
Faith nodded. “Just as well. I will send them a message when I get to school. There are only seven others left besides ours here. Still, I’m sad to leave them like this. I hope you understand. I want to get the children to a new place before the spring rains start so we can plant vegetables to harvest this summer. And it will take us some time to get there.”
“Take the school transbus,” the school janitor said. “I have the key and have been keeping it ready to run. There will be enough of a charge from here that you can get to Yeji without an issue. Then you can take the ferry across the lake. I hear it is still running.”
“I won’t be able to return it, and may not be able to find a place to charge the bus to send it back,” Faith said.
“We won’t have need of it here,” Inigo responded.
“Very well, that is a very generous offer, and I’m more than happy to accept,” Faith said. “Perhaps you would consider going with us?”
“We have lived here our whole lives. We have family and friends. And this is the place that is best for us,” Inigo. “But today I will go with you to help you get supplies for your trip.”
The next day, after Faith had been given some quick lessons by Inigo on the control app for the transbus, the one-time teacher, the four children, and all the supplies and goods they had gathered the previous day were loaded and ready to go.
“So where did I tell you we are going,” Faith asked the children.
“To the countryside outside of Old Makongo,” Mensa answered.
“And what will we find when we get there?” Faith asked.
“A farm to live on,” Obo replied.
Faith tapped the commands on the control app, and the transbus started forward.
“I’m going to teach you a song on our trip today,” Faith said. “It is from the independence time of nearly 150 years ago. The song is called ‘Land of Freedom’. Because that will be where we are going.”