Chapter 18 Continued

*            *          *          *          *          *          *          *

For the first time in many years, Emilia was going to church with a light heart.  She felt that she had stared down her biggest temptation and emerged victorious.  She knew many would judge her if they knew she had just spent the night under the same roof with a man she had just met but she still rejoiced in the fact that nothing had happened.  Like most men, Harold had tried to take advantage of the situation but she respected him for understanding that agreeing to spend the night in his house did not necessarily mean agreeing to have sex with him.  And, she also did not judge him for trying to ‘fornicate’ with her when he invited her to come to church with him.  She knew, first hand, that going to church is not a badge of perfection.

She had liked being with him thus far.  After dinner the night before, he had asked whether she would like to know where he lived.  She said yes. The ride from Zongo Junction, near Mataheko, to Airport Residential Area had been a lot of fun.  The Kwame Nkrumah Circle area was busy.  They had stopped at My Shop, where he bought her a huge bar of Golden Tree chocolate.  She was awed by the tree-lined median of the Ring Road as they neared the Redemption Circle.   Although she had traveled on the Ring Road many times, she had not really had the time to appreciate what it was really like at night.  She had mostly experienced the Ring Road through the hustle and bustle of commercial transportation, which did not afford passengers in Accra the luxury of sightseeing.  The connection of such comfort with Harold somehow endeared him to her.

She was also impressed by the neighborhood in which he lived.  Most of the houses were bordered by beautifully trimmed greenery.  Others had short, artsy walls with beautiful flowers poking up above them.  Some of the houses had their gates closed but those that had their gates open revealed long driveways and lovely architecture.  Even the high rise government apartment buildings looked classy and well-cared for.  The fragrance of ‘queen of the night’ hung delicately in the air.

She had not been able to see the whole of Harold’s house the night before.  A small door inside the garage led into a huge living room.  A billiards board in the center took up almost all of the Persian rug it stood on.  A small television sat in front of a recliner in the southwestern corner of the room.  That accounted for all the things in the living room.  In the morning, however, she discovered there were three other bedrooms apart from the one she had slept in and that the room in which she had slept was the only one, apart from the living room, that had a television.

 ‘Why don’t you have the tv in your bedroom?” She had asked as he opened the door into the yard for her.

 ‘I hardly watch tv.  I mostly listen to the radio.’

There was an empty, shallow map-like swimming pool in the yard.  As they followed the pool, she realized that its larger part spanned the entire width of a side porch decorated with huge African leather puffs.  The side of the porch had a winding staircase.  Harold climbed the staircase and motioned to her to follow.  She had expected to see another set of rooms.  Instead, she saw a huge terrace from which you can see planes getting ready to land or taking off from the airport.

 ‘If you get to the top floor of that apartment building, you can actually see the planes on the runway,’ he had said, pointing.  ‘But I like watching them up in the air too.  It’s a beautiful sight at night.’

He had then walked to the edge of the terrace and plucked ripe mangoes from a mango tree with fruits hanging right above the wall of the terrace.  She had opened her mouth wide in alarm when he rubbed his thumb on one of the mangoes and bit into.

 ‘I do tell children to wash their mangoes before they eat them,’ he had said.  ‘I just don’t do it very often.  Sometimes, I just like to be a child.  It’s liberating.’

 ‘But, what kind of doctor endangers his health in order to feel like a child?’

 ‘Not all doctors are as wise as you would like, I’m afraid.’

 ‘Are you one of the unwise ones?’

 ‘You be the judge.’

 ‘If you want me to come to church with you, we need to leave early.  Since you said the church is close to where I live, I need to stop at home to change into something more appropriate for church.’

So Harold had dropped her off where he had picked her the night before.  She had not invited him in because she felt embarrassed by the disparity between where he lived and where she lived.  She had returned looking gorgeous in a kaba and slit she had borrowed from Alice.  She had intended to wear a dress she had bought from Kingsway but changed her mind after seeing him emerge from his bedroom iin an expensive traditional kente cloth that was wrapped around his body  and thrown over his left shoulder.

 ‘You look great!’ he had said when she rejoined him in the car.

 ‘You too, she had replied.  ‘You look like a chief.’

 ‘O, thanks.  But, you know, those shoes are too nice.  You will have to take them off before you enter the church building.’

 ‘You never cease to amaze me.  You go to one of those churches?’

 ‘Wht is wrong with those churches?’

 ‘There’s nothing wrong with them.  I’ve been to many of them myself.  I guess it just had never occurred to me that University-educated men also go to such churches.’

 ‘What about University-educated women?’

 ‘I don’t know.  I feel like it’s harder for men to believe in miracles.  I don’t know.  I just….I just...’

 ‘Don’t worry.  I understand what you mean.  I don’t go to that church to see miracles.  My mother introduced me to it when I was a kid.  Most of my childhood friends go there.  It’s the only church I’ve ever been to and that’s where I feel at home.’

 ‘Is your mother going to be there?’  she asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

He coughed slightly.  ‘She died a few months ago.’

 ‘Ooh, sorry!’

An awkward silence prevailed until he turned unto a street with an endless line of cars parked on each side.

 ‘Are we close?’

 ‘We’re here.  I need to drive further up the street to see if  I can find a spot to park.’

 ‘Are all these people here for the church?’ she asked, pointing from side to side at the parked cars they were passing.

 ‘Most of them.  Yes.’

 ‘Wow!  No wonder they have doctors in their congregation.  I wouldn’t be surprised if General Akuffo himself attended this church.’

It seemed to be a special occasion.  There were ceremonial flags all around and a couple of tents hd been erected to accommodate those who didn’t get room in the main auditorium, which she thought was really huge.  The church she attended with her mother back home was not half the size of this one and yet there was always room enough for everybody.  Sometimes, too much room.  Harold was ushered into the main auditorium while she was given a seat under one of the tents.  Introductory congregational prayer was in progress so she placed her purse on her seat and lifted her hands up as she poured her heart out to God.

Keyboard music began to play lightly on the PA system.  It was a worship song she knew and loved.  Gradually, the entire congregation joined in.  Other instruments joined in.  She was filled with emotion.  Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

The sermon was preached by an elderly gentleman called Pastor Sharp.  His accent sounded like someone who had lived in either Britain or the United States for a long time.  He attempted to clarify the parable of the Prodigal Son, admonishing the congregation not to see new converts as ‘guests’ but rather as siblings who are  ‘joint heirs’ in the Heavenly Kingdom.

Pastor Sharp ended his sermon with a prayer.  While the prayer was going on, Emilia felt a gentle touch on her back.  She opened her eyes and saw ushers picking people out of the congregation.  The usher who had picked her motioned to her to follow the others who had been selected.  It was a long line that snaked through the congregation onto the porch of an adjoining section of the church building that looked like a residence.  Benches and chairs were arranged on the porch for her and those who had been selected like her.  The line led up to a set of double doors.  The person closest to the double doors went in, came back and motioned the next person in, like they do in front of a doctor’s consulting room.

After what seemed like an eternity, Enilia finally went through the double doors.  It seemed like a normal living room with yellow curtains and white valances that blocked out the sunlight.  The room was lit by white light bulbs and candles.  The smell of ‘florida water’ and ‘holy oil’ hung in the air.  A gentleman dressed in flowing white robes and a white head dress sat in the middle of a couch to the left of the ouble doors.  A dining chair with a cushioned seat stood directly in front of him.  Two pastors stood behind the couch, one on either side of the gentleman on the couch.  All three men motioned her to the chair.  She sat down.  The man in the white robes put his hand on her forehead and said a prayer.

 The Holy Spirit tells me that you have a very bright future.  The Lord will honor you.  Your mother and your sister are lookng for you...’

 ‘I have no sister!’ she interrupted.

 ‘But that is the message I’m getting.  I’m just a messenger,’ he said.  

One of the pastors behind him came round with olive oil, dipped a finger in it and drew a sign of the cross with it on her forehead.  He then pointed her to the double doors and went back to take his position behind the founder of the church.

Harold was standing at the foot of the stairs of the porch when she came out.

 ‘You got to meet The Prophet,’ he said.  She thought he looked very handsome in the traditional cloth.  He held out his hand to help her down the stairs.  She looked into his face.  She thought he had a nice smile.  But why is he keping his hair so bushy? she thought.  And those side burns, too.  She took his hand and descended the stairs gently, careful not to twist her ankle on her high heels.

 ‘I want you to come and meet my sisters.’

 ‘Sisters?  You never mentioned that you have siblings!’

 ‘Emilia, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we met.’

 ‘I’m sorry.  Feels like I’ve known you for a long time.’

‘I don’t blame you.  Me too.  How did your meeting with The Prophet go?’

 ‘Not very well.  He thought I have a sister.  I told him I don’t.’

 ‘Maybe he was referring to a cousin or a niece.’

‘He told me my mother and my sister are looking for me.’

 ‘Well, at least he knew you weren’t with your mother.’

 ‘But that’s a very wide window.  My mom and my sister could be here in this church right now and can still be looking for me.  I don’t think that’s very prophetic...’

 ‘Let’s talk about this later,’ he mumbled.  ‘My sisters won’t appreciate you saying that about The Prophet.’

He stopped in front of two women whose kaba and slit were made out of very expensive Dutch textile.  Although the design and material were different, they were similar in quality.  Their style and manner reminded her of Aunt Elsie.  ‘They’ve got class!’ she thought.

 ‘Emilia, my sisters, Dede and Naki,’ he said, pointing to each woman as he mentioned her name.

 

 ‘How are you?’  Dede asked in Ga as she held out her hand.  Emilia took her hand but looked up to Harold as if she didn’t understand the greeting.  She understood but she couldn’t carry a full conversation in Ga.

 ‘I said how are you.  Why, don’t you speak Ga?’

 ‘Unfortunately, I don’t.’

 ‘Tell him to teach you,’ Naki said when it was her turn to shake Emilia’s hand.  ‘What language do you speak apart from English?’

 ‘I’m from the Volta Region.’

 ‘Hey da-avi!  You must teach me your language so that when I go to buy red-red I can get a lot more for my money,’ Naki joked.

 ‘Don’t worry.  Let me know whenever you want to eat red-red.  I will cook it for you.’

 ‘Did you enjoy the service?’  Dede asked.

 ‘I did.’

 ‘She even got to meet The Prophet!’  Harold said excitedly.

 ‘Wow!’  his sisters said in unison.

Emilia maintained a straight face, trying not to give away her disappointment.

 ‘Well, I have to take Da-avi home,’ Harold said, walking away from his sisters.  ‘Regards to the old man.’

 ‘You see him more than we do although we live in the same house with him, Naki said.  ‘Hey, your nephew says he wants one of your tv sets since you hardly watch tv.’

 ‘All right.’

 ‘When should he come?’

 ‘Tell him to call me at the hospital.’

 ‘When are you going to fix the phone in your house?’

Harold laughed as he took Emilia’s hand and hurried towards his car.

 ‘Why are you laughing,’  Emilia asked.  ‘She asked you a question.’

 ‘Don’t mind them.  They stay too long on the phone so my father cut the line in his house.  If I repair mine, they won’t give me any privacy.  They’re both married.  They should go and live with their husbands.’

 ‘Maybe your father needs someone to cook for him.’

 ‘That’s exactly what they said but it’sbeen six months.’

Chapter 18

The loss of the briefcase with the ransom money weighed heavily on Ato’s mind as he turned the Volvo from the Tudu Road and onto the road in front of the Ministry of Education offices at Kinbu.  The transport yard at the Kinbu station of the State Transport Corporation was crowded.  He wasn’t very familiar with  the place although he knew the Kinbu area of Central Accra very well.  He didn’t even know there was an STC station there, complete with passenger parking space.

He manouvered  the car  carefully through a maze of hawkers, shoppers and sightseers, trying not to run over any feet.  He found an empty spot, parked the car, got out and opened the door for his wife.  He was trying to be on his best behavior as he tried to set the stage for breaking the news about the missing briefcase to her.

He elbowed his way through the crowd, creating space for Nana Ajoa while keeping a vigilant eye on her purse.  A young man with a huge ‘afro’ stepped in front of them, waving a bottle filled with a  strange pink liquid.

  “Blow your hair!”

Ato shoved him impatiently aside.

  “Hey, hey massa make you no push me, o!  Plent-ay space dey for  everybod-ay.”

Ato grabbed his wife’s left hand and guided her gently through the throng, ignoring the young man’s protest.

There was a Setra bus idling on the loading dock with ‘SOGAKOPE’ showing through its destination display window but no one was boarding or disembarking.  Nana Ajoa was astonished that despite the crowded parking lot, the station itself was relatively quiet.

She knew what her mother looked  like.  Her image was imprinted in her mind’s eye and, since she had started thinking more and more about her, she has began noticing,  each time she looked in the mirror,  that she bore a little resemblance to her.  

As they were walking towards the ticketing window, they saw a woman in a green and grey flowered head scarf, a navy blue blouse with white vertical stripes over GTP textile slit and cover cloth.  She was standing beside a huge ‘chopbox’ with an old but  seemingly expensive suitcase sitting on top of it.  She had her back towards them so it was more out of intuition than recognition that Nana Ajoa called out, ‘Mama!’

Mama Aku nearly jumped but quickly composed herself.  It was well that she did, otherwise she would have  been knocked to the ground when her daughter rushed into her arms.    She began to smile but when she felt Nana Ajoa’s body shaking with sobs, she could not hold back her own tears.  Ato looked around, slightly embarrassed.  But, when he saw two or three strangers wiping tears off their own faces, he was slightly touched.

The drive back to Dansoman was smooth.  Traffic in Accra was always light during the weekends, especially in the mornings. Ato decided to take a longer route to give Mama Aku and Nana Ajoa some time to  strengthen their mother-daughter bond before they got home.  Nana Ajoa had decided to ride in the back seat with her mother so Ato had placed Mama Aku’s suitcase, which was having a hard time fitting in the trunk with the sizeable chop-box, on the passenger seat beside him.    He was happy about Mama Aku’s arrival for many reasons but he was especially grateful that his wife was getting the opportunity to borrow from the  wisdom and comfort of an older woman during a difficult time.  He was also happy about being able to buy some time to think of how to break the news about the lost briefcase to Nana Ajoa.  He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about his own daughter.  He missed her dearly.

Nana Ajoa was surprised to find that her mother spoke Akan very well although she kept switching from dialect to dialect.  Sometimes, in the middle of an Asante Twi sentence, she would swing in a Fante word.  Other times, she would attempt an Akuapem Twi proverb and end it in Fante.  The most important thing for Nana Ajoa, however,  was that they could communicate.  She even enjoyed listening to her mother’s way of speaking Akan.  She kept hugging and laying her head on Mama Aku as if she wanted to make up for all the lost years.  Strangely,  it seemed they had stepped back into each other’s lives as if they had never parted.   

Nana Ajoa kept thinking about her sister too.  In her reply to Nana Ajoa’s letter, Mama Aku had mentioned that she had another daughter in Accra.  As Ato turned the Volvo towards the Asylum Down Road leading to the Overhead Bridge near Kwame Nkrumah Circle, Nana Ajoa was wondering how Baaba would feel when she got back home to meet two new family members.

  “So my sister’s name is Emilia?”

Ato looked back briefly, wondering whether he really heard what he heard, his mind suddenly going back to the night Kwesi had returned home with a prostitute.  But he quickly disnissed that thought, thinking, “certainly, the world cannot be that small.”  He could not see how a woman like Mama Aku could have raised a daughter to become a prostitute.

  “Yes,”  Mama Aku said.  “She used to live with my friend at Lartebiokorshie but my friend doesn’t know where she is now.  We will go and find her after we find my granddaughter.  We shall find them.  Both of them.”

Those words comforted Ato too.  Although he did not believe in voodoo,  he wished Mama Aku had brought some voodoo from Eweland to help find his daughter.

Chapter 17

The three young men looked down into the briefcase full of money, wondering what to.  Mahmoud had a suggestion.  He wanted them to leave the little girl in front of her parents’ house and call the parents to pick her up.  They can then leave the keys of the house  under a rug, split the money and go their separate ways.  Okota did not like the idea of leaving the girl alone by herself until her parents pick her up.  Mahmoud had explained that they could stay in the car and watch her until her parents showed up but Nii Darku thought that would leave them vulnerable if the Police are involved.  His suggestion was that they kill the girl, take the money and run.  Okota objected strongly, saying they would have to kill him before they kill the girl.  His opinion was that Mahmoud should take the money back and just let  events go according to plan.  Both Mahmoud and Nii Darku were worried that the old man could double-cross them in the end if they don’t take the money while they could.

Nii Darku’s suggestion that Baaba be killed put Okota’s nerves on edge.  He had  never imagined that Nii Darku was capable of such thoughts.  He kept wondering whether the many nights of fear and enxiety, tempered by endless joints  and the sudden sight of so much money  were taking a toll on Nii Darku’s mental capacity.  He had often heard that marijuana made people calm and peaceful but he was beginning to doubt that.  He wanted to offer to  take the money back in order to make things easier for everybody but he was scared.  He no longer trusted Mahmoud and Nii Darku to respect Baaba’s life.

Mahmoud snapped the briefcase shut.   A faint glow of orange sunlight was streaming through a parted curtain from a window on the west side of the living room, signaling  approaching dusk.  Okota looked at his watch.  It was 6:27.  He decided to go and check on Baaba.  As he was walking out of the living room, he heard Mahmoud  saying, “I think our work is done.  We wanted the money.  We have it.”

  “No!”  Okota said, stepping back into the living room.  “Our work is not done yet.  There’s a girl here who needs to go back to her parents.  It is our responsibility to make sure that she safely gets back to her parents.  If anything happens to her, you will be surprised that our lives would become even more miserable than it was before this whole nonsense began.”

He walked to the room where they had Baaba locked up.  She was laying on the bed.  Her lunch was still sitting on the small coffee table on which they had placed it, untouched.    He stood in the doorway and watched her for a few minutes.  He felt a light touch on his shoulder.  He  thought it was Nii Darku but he heard Mahmoud’s voice say;

  “You’ve grown to like her very much.”

  “She’s a great kid.  She’s an innocent girl.  She could be my sister or your sister.  What has she done to deserve what we’re putting her through?  She has to be home with her mother and father, eating well and sleeping peacefully.”

  “It’s not us.  We’re not the problem.  Her own grandfather is.  He is the one who decided to put her through all this.  Only Allah knows why.  Why do educated people do stupid things?  A whole doctor, he should have more sense than that.  We’re just uneducated people drawn into this because we want the cash.  But, she could have ended up in the wrong hands.  Just think about that.”

  “I’m still not sure that she ended up in the right hands,”   Okota said as she picked up Baaba’s lunch and led Mahmoud into the hallway.  “ Nii Darku has become a monster overnight.”

  “Don’t worry about him.  I don’t think he really wants to kill her.”

  “I won’t let him.  I swear I won’t.  I thought he brought me into this because he knows I like  kids.  My younger brother died of measles when he was only five years old.  Every kid in trouble reminds me of him.”

Okota wanted to say more but he had to stop in order to hold back tears.

Nii Darku heard the others talking in the hallway.  He thought they may be plotting against him so he went to join them.

  “Chaley, you guys know I  don’t really mean we should kill the girl, right?”

  “Shhh!”  Okota hissed,  inclining his head towards the room in which the girl lay sleeping.  All three of them tiptoed into the kitchen.  Okota put  Baaba’s neglected lunch on the counter.  As he got ready to wash his hands and take her dinner down to her, he saw Nii Darku bring out a joint from his pocket, place it between his lips  and get ready to light it.  Okota snatched the joint, saying, “if we’re going to think clearly through this  situation, neither of us must hire a lawyer!”

Both Nii Darku and Mahmoud laughed in spite of themselves.  

Chapter 16

Amasco Bar was very busy when they walked in.  Almost every table was occupied.  Harold politely asked Emilia to wait while he went to talk to the proprietress.  There was a bright green  scale in a corner of the bar. She walked over and stepped on it but before she could see her weight, she heard a woman’s voice cry out loudly in surprise; “Hey, Harry!”

She quickly looked up and saw an elderly woman throw her arms around

Harold in a warm embrace.  The woman took his hand and started dragging him along.  He signaled with his other hand to Emilia to follow them.  

They went through what appeared to be the restaurant area.  It was lighted by a couple of yellow fluorescent tubes.    The tables and chairs were shorter than those in the bar.  They then got to the back of the building, which looked more like a residence.  The elderly woman quickly  brought out a center table and put two short stools at each end.  Harold introduced Emilia to the woman, whom he called “Da-avi”.

  

  “So, Harry, how have you been?  It’s been a long time.  Have you been hearing from David?”

  “I’ve been fine, Da-avi.  I haven’t heard from David in a while but the last time he wrote to me, he said he was moving from London to Manchester.”

  “Yes.  He’s in Manchester now.  He’s married to a beautiful British woman.  She’s expecting a baby.”

  “It means you’re soon going to be  a grandma!”

  “It’s about time.  You should hurry up and make your parents proud grandparents too,”   Da-avi said, eyeing Emilia mischievously.

  “Where is Fafa?”  Harold asked, changing the subject.

  “Fafa is now a big girl.  She wrote her ‘O’ Levels this year.  Fafa!”

  “Da-da!” a girl’s voice responded from another part of the building.  Fafa emerged and rushed into Harold’s arms, just like her mother had done earlier.

  “Efo Harold!  It’s been a long time.”

  “Fafa, you’ve grown so big.  I wouldn’t have recognized you if we had met on the street.”

  “Fafa,”  Da-avi said as she moved towards the door leading to the restaurant.  “Take care of your brother and his friend.  Harry, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Please, may I bring you something to drink?”  Fafa asked Emilia.  Emilia looked uncertainly at Harold.

  “I will have a gulder,” Harold said.

  “I will have a mirinda,” Emilia said in Ewe.  

Fafa went in and returned with two glasses.  She set them on the table between them and went back into the house.

  “You speak Ewe?”

  “I am an Ewe.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “You didn’t ask me that.”

  “Now tell me about yourself.  Just a little bit more.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Married?”

  “Nope.”

  “Kids?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you live with your parents?”

  “I wish I do.  I miss them.  They’re in the Volta Region.  My father is a carpenter.  My mother is a trader.  Anything else you want to know?”

Fafa returned, holding bottles of mirinda and gulder on a tray.  She set them on the table and popped them open.

  “What should I bring you to eat?”  Fafa asked, looking from one to the other.  Again, Emilia looked at Harold for  direction.

  “They have jollof rice, rice and stew,  banku with okra stew, fufu, yakayaka, abolo....”

  “Okay, okay,” Emilia said, cutting him off.  “I see that you have the menu memorized.  I’ll just have rice and stew with goat meat.”

  “I will have yakayaka with fried fish and shito.”

  “What kind of shito,”  Fafa asked.  “Black or red?”

  “Black.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Fafa said as she moved towards the door leading to the restaurant.

  “Fafa?”  Emilia called after her.  Fafa stopped and turned.  Then Emilia asked in Ewe;  “Is he really a doctor?”

  “Yes.  His father too.”

  “Hey, what did she say?”  Harold asked Fafa, feigning alarm.

  “She just wanted to know if you’re really a doctor.”  Fafa said and hurried into the restaurant.

  “I see,” Harold said drily, poured himself  a glass of gulder and took a sip.  

Emilia felt a tinge of guilt.                                 

  “I’m sorry,” she said smugly.

  “Well, you did say that you don’t know me enough to trust me.  I’m not offended.”

Later, when Fafa brought the food, they ate in silence.

Chapyer 15

Harold kept following the Datsun, wondering when he was going to see a policeman he could alert.  So far, he had not encountered any phone booths along the route.  He was beginning to get anxious as the route got more and more isolated.  He wished the Datsun would stop so he could also stop and ask someone to call the Police.  He kept wondering whether the driver of the Datsun had noticed he was being followed.  So far, he hadn't given any indication that he knew and that took some of the edge off Harold's anxiety.

Harold looked at his watch.  It was almost 6pm.  He worried that he might not get help before dark.  He began to relax when he observed that he seemed to be more familiar with the area than the one he was pursuing.  Three times, he had observed the man hesitate before turning at intersections.  Harold felt completely at home around the Bubiashi/ Darkuman/ Dansoman area.  He knew all the shortcuts to take on foot.  He knew all the tro-tro routes and he knew how to avoid the roads with the greatest number of potholes.  The driver of the car in front of him didn't seem to know these things.

Soon they were passing Club Hansonic, one of the clubs he had once taken Nana Ajoa to.  They took a left at Dansoman Junction on the main Kaneshie Odorkor Road.  One of the long 'King of Kings' buses known as 'road trains' got between him and the Datsun.  He saw the Datsun turn on to the main Darkuman road.  The long bus stopped to pick some passengers right in front of the Mobil Gas Station, blocking his path.  He waited impatiently as the Datsun disappeared into the distance.

He was barely at the Cable and Wireless park when he noticed the Datsun about two hundred meters in front of him.  Mahmoud stopped a after the DarkumanCircle Station.  Harold had to pass him so he did.  In his rear view mirror, Harold saw Mahmoud reverse and make a right turn.  Harold took the next right turn, made another right turn and then another onto the road he saw the Datsun turn onto.  There was no sign of the Datsun.  As he continued up the road, however, he was just in time to see a gate closing behind the Datsun.  He knew the house very well.  He felt stupid.  He knew that the house had belonged to Nana Ajoa's late mother.  He had visited Nana Ajoa there frequently during Secondary School days.  It was like a vacation home for the Dadzies until the matriach passed away.  It was where Nana Ajoa was supposed to learn how to do those household chores that servants did for her at her dad's.  He remembered how the kids at school used to tease Nana Ajoa, singing about how the dumpsters in Darkuman were full of loaves of bread. It was an allusion to the number of mud ovens in the area.  The smell of sulphur hit his nostrils to remind him of another thing all the kids, including Nana Ajoa herself, had joked about concerning Darkuman pit latrines.

Concluding that what he thought was a crime was probably a harmless prank, he proceeded towards the junction at the end of the road.  As he turned left on to the main Darkuman road, a woman made him do a double take.  She had just gotten out of a taxi and was walking towards the next intersection away from him.  He parked the car and crossed the street.  He strode quickly towards her and, as soon as he was within earshot, he said; 'Hey, Nana, I'm so...'

The woman turned and began to smile as soon as she saw he was talking to her.  It was then that he realized he had been mistaken.  She had a gap in the middle of her upper front teeth.  Nana Ajoa didn't.  He held out his hand.

         "I'm sorry.  I mistook you for somebody else.  My name is Harold."    

        "Harold?  My name is Emilia."

       "Are you related to Nana Ajoa?"

      "Never heard the name.  Everybody seems to think I look like someone else."

     "Maybe they just want to say you're beautiful."

     "Nice pick up line," she thought as she turned to walk away.  "Thanks."

       "Are you sure you're not related to Nana?"  He stepped beside her.  "That house right around the corner on that street belonged to her mother."

She didn't know which house he was talking about but she thought that anybody who knew something about a house on that street probably knew something she wanted to know.  She stopped, almost too suddenly.

   "Do you live on that street?"  She asked.

  "No.  I don't live in this area."

   "Oh," she said, disappointed.  She began walking again.

  "Hey, are you in a hurry?  Can we go grab a drink somewhere and get to know each other?"

Emilia hesitated.  "Is the word 'prostitute' written all over me?"  she thought.  

  "I am in a hurry.  I'm sorry.  Let's make it another time."

  "Okay.  Let's fix that 'another time' right now.  Tell me when and show me where you live."

  "You're assuming I'm either not married or have no boyfriend."

  "Sorry if I'm being too pushy.  I was just hoping we could be friends."

Something about Harold reminded Emilia of Panyim and Kakra.  He looked like someone who was raised in a rich home and was likely to take advantage of her.  She decided that it was time for her to turn the tables and take advantage of him.  The moved to give a semi truck a wide berth as it rounded the corner close to where they were standing, leaving a cloud of dust from the untarred road.  As they moved further away from the dust, she said, "okay, where does one get a drink around here?  I'm new here."

  "That is a good question.  I used to play around here a lot when I was a kid but I don't know anything around here anymore.  But I have a car.  We can go wherever you would like us to go."

 "You lead the way.  I have no particular place in mind."

  "So, you don't live around here,"  Emilia said as they crossed the street to get to his car.  "Where do you live?"

  "Airport Residential Area."

 "Do you live with your parents?"

 "Hm, not really.  I live in a house they own but I live alone.  By the way, did you just assume that I don't have a wife?"

 "Well, you asked me out.  Besides, you can still live with your parents even if you're married.  Who knows, maybe you're a Ga man."

 "Wow, now you're attacking a whole ethnic group," he said as he opened the car door for her.

 "It's not an attack.  It's an observation."

He turned on the ignition and shifted into first.  The car lurched forward as he stepped on the accelerator.  

 "Tell me about yourself.  What do you do for a living?" He asked.

 "You don't want to know"

 "Why not?  I asked.."

 "I'm currently unemployed.  I used to be a hairdresser."

Harold glanced briefly at her.  Her hair was really low and it looked good on her.  Her large white T-shirt was tied at her left hip, accentuating an attractive, generous bust.  He could tell that she was much younger than Nana Ajoa but the resemblance was still striking.  What if Ato has killed Nana Ajoa and this is her ghost?  The thought crossed his mind but it wasn't deep enough to make him worry.  Moreover, he wasn't really convinced about the existence of ghosts and he knew Ato loved Nana Ajoa very much.

Emilia was wondering why she had hesitated to tell him she was a prostitute.  She had never hesitated to mention it to anyone except her parents.  She felt a little guilty about deceiving her parents.  She had recently been trying to convince herself that she had let them down just as much as they had let her down.  I need to write to Mama, she thought.  She thought she heard Harold say something.

"Pardon me.  I didn't quite catch that."

 "I said I work in a hospital," he said.

 "Nurse?"

 "Not really."

Her mind went back to her parents, wondering whether they were all right.  She was especially worried about her father.

 "Don't you want to know what I do at the hospital?"

 "What do you do?" She asked disinterestedly.

 "I'm a doctor."

 "What?"  Her tone betrayed her astonishment.

 "I said I'm a doctor.  Why, don't I look the part?"

 "No, you don't."

 "Why?"

 "You're too young," she said emphatically.

 "You don't even know how old I am."

 "At least you must wear glasses or have a goatee with sprinkles of gray in it."

Harold laughed hysterically. As he turned left onto the main Kaneshie-Odorkor Road, a speeding dump truck emerged from his right, causing him to step suddenly on the brakes.

  “Hey, Papa Doctor, don’t kill me o!”

 Harold laughed again, this time more controlled.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

Darkness was beginning to fall when he stopped in front of Club Hansonic.  

  “Can we go to a quieter place?”  She asked.  “There will be too many Secondary School students here.  You know how noisy they can be.”

  “Okay.”

He got on the road behind the Mataheko Police Barracks, across the JT School soccer field and then onto the main Zongo Junction-Dansoman road.  The route reminded Emilia of her days in the Sarpong household.  She usually had to go shop for groceries at the Kaneshie market to cook for the family.  She had often saved the bus money and walked, using part of the route Harold had just used.  Mataheko, Lartebiokorshie, Kaneshie, Dansoman, Darkuman, Mamprobi, Korle Gonno were all places she had come to know so well.  She smiled, thinking  about how impressive that would seem to her childhood friends back home in the Volta Region.

  “Do you know Lartebiokorshie very well?”

  “I think so.  Many of my mates in Medical School were from Lartebiokorshie.  It’s very close to Korle Bu.  We used to walk there from Korle Bu.  Why, do you need to go there?”

  “No.  I used to live there.”

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Harold said, glancing sideways at her.

  “Not half as beautiful as Airport Residential Area,” Emilia said, wondering how Korle Bu could be close to  Lartebiokorshie.  She thought about it for a minute then realized that she had minimized the size of Lartebiokorshie in her mind, concentrating on the part where she had lived.  

  “You know, I didn’t realize how Lartebiokorshie could be close to Korle Bu until you mentioned it.”

  “Lartebiokorshie, Korle Bu, Ayigbe Town and Sabom Zongo are all in that chunk of land bordered by the Accra-Mamprobi Road to the South, Kaneshie-Odorkor Road to the North, the Kaneshie-Mamprobi Road to the West and the Kaneshie-Korle Bu Road to the East.  You can easily walk from one to the other without  seeing a single vehicle  if you know the short-cuts.”

  “That chunk of land also has Abossey Okai in it.  But, Lartebiokorshie extends further westward beyond the Kaneshie-Mamprobi Road.”

  “You’re right.  It extends all the way to Appiah Danquah, Sukura and Mambrook.”

Emilia felt deflated.  She was trying to show off her knowledge of this part of Accra but now  it seemed like the guy who lived all the way up in Airport Residential Area knew this area better than she did.  She decided to talk about something else.

  “So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours who looks like me.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.  She’s married.”

  “Oh,” she said, inexplicably relieved.

  “What do you want to know about her?”

  “Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

  “Let’s not talk about her.  Let’s talk about you instead.”

  “Hm...maybe...she does not exist?”

  “She does exist.  Don’t you trust me?”

  “I don't know you enough to trust you.  I’m just pulling your legs, anyway.”

  “She’s a lawyer.  Her father and my father own a clinic together.”

  “I see,” Emilia said, awed.  She felt like she had suddenly been transported into a different realm.  She had spent much of her adult life selling sex to alcoholics and uneducated people on the streets of Accra.  Now here she was, riding in a doctor’s car; a young and handsome doctor who was even willing to buy her a drink.  She decided that she wanted Harold’s friendship.  She started arguing with her conscience about whether to tell him about her prostitution.  In the end, she decided that if asked, she wouldn’t lie.  Otherwise, she won’t volunteer any information.