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.