The first thing Kwesi noticed when he woke up was that there was a policeman around. He couldn’t see him but he could sense him. As a tro-tro driver on the streets of Accra
Kwesi felt uneasy. He tried to get up to go to the restroom but his hand felt heavy. He then remembered why he was at the hospital. He rubbed his bandaged hand as if to reassure himself that it was still there.
“Nurse,” he called. “Nurse, I wan’ go for toilet.”
He heard footsteps. The nurse suddenly appeared, trailed by a policeman. Kwesi smiled. He felt proud of himself. His instincts were sharp. He lifted his uninjured hand. The nurse put her shoulder under his arm and helped him out of the bed.
“The policeman be your husband?” He asked the nurse as she opened the restroom door for him.
“No. He wants to talk to you,” she answered.
“About wetin?”
“He wants to know what happened to your hand. They think it was attempted murder.”
“Attempted murder my nyash! Tell am say e-no be him business,” Kwesi said as he entered the restroom.
When Kwesi returned from the restroom, the policeman was still there and he seemed very friendly. “Must be one of the good ones,” he thought, trying to calm his nerves. He was always nervous around policemen.
“Mr. Quansah, I’m Sergeant Amoo. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine.”
“I won’t take too much of your time,” Sergeant Amoo said, sensing that Kwesi is not very enthused about his presence. “I just want to take your statement about what happened to your hand.”
“E-be small house matter. No be police case.”
“Since your brother came to file a report, I need to follow up. Just doing my job, boss.”
“My broda make mistake. E-be house matter.”
“Just tell me what happened. I will write it down, show it to my boss and then if he decides that e-be house matter, you’ll not hear from us again.”
“My girlfriend wan’ kill mouse wey my hand miss road and hit with de axe.”
“Your girlfriend was trying to kill a mouse with an axe?”
Gladys had just come down from her office and was walking towards the nurse’s office in Kwesi’s ward when the sergeant posed the question. The word ‘girlfriend’ drifted into her ears. She wondered why Emilia preferred to call herself a prostitute when the man was admitting they were in a relationship.
“Yes. She dey fear mouse.”
“Did you have an argument before she saw the mouse?”
“No.”
“Did she see you with another woman?”
“No,” Kwesi answered, trying to sound irritated.
“What is her full name and where is she now?”
“Officer, I think say you dey ask too many questions. I tell you say the matter be house matter. If you wan’ know anything, go ask my broda. Na him report case for you. I tire. I wan’ sleep. See my hand? I no well.” Kwesi lay back on the bed, exaggerating his discomfort. He covered his face with the sheet and began to snore. The policeman shook his head and began to laugh. He turned to look at the other patients in the ward as if he expected them to laugh too but they all looked away from him. He strode into the nurses’ office, wondering why people hated policemen so much.
As soon as Sergeant Amoo left the ward, Gladys entered with a tray holding a syringe and some medicines.
“Mr. Quansah, it’s time for your injections,” she sang in a friendly voice. She pulled the sheet back, revealing a mischievous smile on Kwesi’s face.
“Where dey de policeman?” He asked as he turned over and tried to expose the upper part of his backside for the injection.
“He is gone,” Gladys replied. She stuck the needle into a small bottle containing anti-tetanus medicine and lifted it to see the liquid fill the syringe. That was the part Kwesi hated about injections but he put on a brave face because he liked this particular nurse.
“Do you know that I went to school with your girlfriend?’ The question took Kwesi by surprise. He did not answer immediately, thinking that someone else would respond. “Mr. Quansah, I’m talking to you.”
“I no get girlfriend.”
“Then why did you tell the policeman she is your girlfriend?”
“Because she be fine girl. I dey like her but I no know if she like me.” He winced as the needle entered a vein and began to dispense the medicine. “How you fit to know who that woman be?”
“I saw her when she came to visit you.” She answered as she pulled out the needle and pressed a small swab of cotton on the invisible hole the needle had made in his flesh.
“She no come visit me!” Kwesi said, sitting up on the bed.
“Yes, she did. You had just come out of surgery. You were asleep.”
“Why you no wake me up?”
“I don’t work on this ward. And, we don’t wake patients up just because they have visitors, especially when they could be in pain.”
“So, she too be nurse?”
“No, we didn’t go to nursing school together. We went to elementary school together.”
“For where?”
“In the Volta Region.”
“You be Ewe woman?”
“No. I’m a Fante. My father was transferred to the Volta Region in those days.”
“Ah, if you’re Fante then why are we speaking English? I’m Fante too!” Kwesi said in Fante.
That day, Gladys found herself at Kwesi’s bedside more than ten times. Each time she had a little break in her shift, she would sneak to his bedside to chat with him. She thought he was fun to talk to. She thought he had a sexy way of speaking Fante that made the language funny and endearing. He made her feel at home. When her shift ended that night, she was sad to leave. As she waved the patients and her colleagues ‘goodbye’ and stepped out of the hospital, her eyes welled up. She smiled through her tears and whispered, “o, Gladys, you’re so stupid!”
TO BE CONTINUED.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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