Faye was puzzled. ‘How can they have a funeral if they’ve already buried your uncle?’
Uncle Charlie chuckled. ‘When we talk about a funeral, we are usually referring to the funeral rites, which are performed after the deceased has been buried,’ he explained patiently. ‘It involves drumming and dancing and other rites that are traditionally performed by the family elders.’
Faye still looked confused, so he went on. ‘Funerals in Ghana are a process rather than just a one-off event, like you have in England. This is particularly true for the Akan people because, for us, death leads to a prolonged period of mourning and we have a series of rituals that mark the transition of a living member of the community to a revered ancestral spirit.’
Auntie Amelia nodded in agreement. ‘You’ll find as you stay here longer, my dear, that funerals are given as much – if not more – attention as weddings and christenings. In the daily newspapers you’ll often see funeral announcements published with the names of the deceased’s family members and close friends, who are referred to as the chief mourners. The more people who attend, the more successful the funeral is considered to have been – unless, of course, there weren’t enough refreshments for the mourners!’ she added with a laugh.
Amma repressed a shudder. ‘Frankly, I think the worst part is when you have to file past the dead body. It’s really awful to see someone you’ve known lying there looking so different.’
‘But the dancing is so wonderful to watch,’ Auntie Akosua said with a smile. Turning to Faye, she explained further. ‘At funerals, the idea is that dancing helps the bereaved to express their grief and console themselves. The drummers have to entice the mourners to dance and the skilful way in which they do that is absolutely marvellous to see.’
Faye listened in fascination. It seemed that there was no end to the lessons she had to learn about her people and their traditions. Finishing her wine, she put down her glass carefully.
‘It sounds amazing, Auntie Akosua,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘I can’t wait to see it all in action.’ Suddenly aware of how it might have sounded, she added hastily, ‘I mean, I’m really sorry about your uncle dying…’
Auntie Akosua interrupted her with a smile, patting her hand gently. ‘It’s all right. I know what you meant, and I’m also looking forward to the chance to show you our town.’
Uncle Charlie set his empty beer glass on the table and sighed in satisfaction.
‘So, Amma, what’s the latest with you and your young man? Should I be preparing my speech as the favourite uncle of the bride?’ He chuckled as Amma pouted at his teasing.
‘Uncle Charlie, seriously, all Edwin talks about now is America this and America that,’ she said flatly. ‘Honestly, the way he talks you’d think there was absolutely nothing he could do in this country!’
‘Well, let’s hope he finds a good job soon,’ Auntie Akosua remarked. ‘But you know, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if he did work overseas for a little while – it would probably give him some valuable experience.’
Amma sighed. ‘Auntie, now you sound like Rocky. All he thinks about is making his international career move as soon as possible.’
Auntie Akosua turned to her friend and asked with a smile, ‘Amelia, how is your gorgeous son – has he finally popped the question to that pretty girlfriend of his? I saw her on television the other day advertising some new hair care product. If I were younger, I would definitely have been persuaded to buy it.’
Auntie Amelia laughed and shook her head. ‘I’m starting to think I have to give up on Rocky,’ she said ruefully. ‘He is so obsessed with his career he won’t give any woman a chance. As for proposing, according to my sources,’ she glanced slyly at Amma, ‘the pretty girlfriend is no longer on the scene. So it looks like we are back to square one.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t give up hope yet, Mama, some strange things have been known to happen,’ Amma murmured, gazing into her half-empty wine glass. She didn’t elaborate on her cryptic comment and refused to be drawn any further on the subject.
With dinner over, they staggered back to the living room where the conversation continued until Uncle Fred exclaimed at the time.
‘Some of us have to go to work tomorrow,’ he retorted, when the girls protested that it was too early to leave. After prolonged farewells, they climbed back into the car and headed back to Labone.
It was after ten o’clock and there was relatively little traffic on the roads as they drove back. It was still hot and humid as Faye rolled down her window and peered out. ‘It’s so dark, Uncle Fred, how can you make out where you’re going? And why are so few of the streetlights on?’
‘That’s a good question,’ he sighed, shaking his head in resignation. ‘I wish I knew the answer. Particularly since when I get my electricity bill, there’s always a charge for street lighting!’
He drove slowly and carefully through the capital and about twenty minutes later they were home.
Rocky’s car was parked in the driveway and Faye felt a dart of excitement shoot through her. But when they went into the house, it was clear from the darkened living room that he had already gone up to bed.
Quashing her disappointment, Faye wished everyone a good night and headed up to her bedroom where she showered quickly before lying down. Pleasantly tired, she replayed the events of the day until her thoughts became one big jumble and she drifted off to sleep.
11
Down Home Culture
The wake-up call came in the form of a loud clap of thunder followed by rumbling. Faye shot up in bed, rudely awakened from a fascinating, if bizarre, dream in which Rocky was rescuing her from a charging crowd of bus and taxi drivers wearing T-shirts printed with the words In God We Trust.
She slid out of bed and walked towards the window. Despite the fact that it was morning, the sky was almost black and it was clear that it was going to rain heavily. Her mouth felt dry after the wine she had drunk at dinner the night before and she was suddenly desperate for a cup of coffee.
She took a quick shower and went back into her room to dress, slipping into a pair of narrow black trousers. She rummaged through the wardrobe and pulled out a long sleeveless white top she had bought on sale from Topshop and jazzed up by sewing rows of multicoloured glass beads along the round neckline, giving it the appearance of a jewelled collar.
She jumped nervously as another loud clap of thunder reverberated around the room. The sound of heavy rain followed and she watched in fascination through the window as a tropical storm began to rage outside. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the dark sky as the thunder continued to boom and rumble. The rain was so heavy that the trees in the garden were bowed over, as if to protect themselves from the onslaught. The sound of the heavy raindrops on the roof could have been a stable full of horses pounding furiously on the pretty pink tiles. Peering through the louvre blades, she could see huge pools of water forming on the ground and over the paved area to the side of the lawn. Rainwater poured off the roof through a drainage pipe in a strong steady stream, further soaking the already sodden ground.
Faye looked out in awe at the power unleashed by nature and shivered at the thought of being caught outside during such a storm. Suddenly, a clap of thunder sounded so loudly that she squealed and jumped away from the window in panic. Closing the slats, she slipped on a pair of sandals and ran downstairs in search of company.
She rushed into the kitchen hoping to find Martha. Instead, Rocky was at the kitchen table, engrossed in the business section of the daily newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. He looked up as she came in and she felt her heart thud as he gave her a slow smile that softened the hard angles of his face.
Walking more sedately, she murmured ‘Good morning’ in reply to his greeting and moved over to the kitchen cabinets where the cups were kept. She took out a mug and walked back to the table to fill it with coffee from the pot on the table. Sitting down opposite Rocky, she took a few sips of the black unsweetened liqui
d, sighed with satisfaction and leant back in her chair. She looked across at Rocky, who had lowered his newspaper and was watching her through his smoky brown eyes, clearly amused by what he saw.
‘What?’ she demanded, sounding defensive as he continued to stare at her. He was dressed for work and his jacket and briefcase were on the chair next to him. His closely cropped dark hair had a slight sheen, which caught the light when he moved, and in a pristine pale blue shirt and dark navy tie, he looked every inch the successful young executive.
‘Nothing,’ he laughed. ‘It’s just the way you drank the coffee – as though you wanted it more than anything in the world.’
No, that would be you! For one horrified moment she thought she had spoken the words aloud but as he was still smiling and not staring at her as if she had lost her mind, she took a deep, calming breath.
The effect was wasted as a loud clap of thunder reverberated around the silent kitchen. Startled by the noise, she jumped and gripped her cup even tighter between her hands. The rain thundered down outside and, cocooned in what suddenly felt like their own world, Faye looked across at Rocky, mesmerised by the sheer beauty of his chiselled features and unable for the life of her to tear her eyes away. His eyes met and held her gaze and then without warning the lights flickered out, throwing them into momentary darkness. Neither of them made a move and the only sound in the room came from the heavy downpour taking place outside.
Just as suddenly as it had gone out, the kitchen light came back on. Faye put her cup down carefully and, feeling unaccountably shy, ducked her head to avoid his eyes and instead focused her gaze on his mouth. Rocky, meanwhile, seemed to have lost any interest in the business news and had carelessly pushed the newspaper aside. His attention was fully engaged on her and his eyes dropped down to her blouse and rested on the profusion of jewelled beads around her neck.
‘That’s a stunning top,’ he murmured, his eyes dropping lower still and lingering on the curves revealed by the thin fabric of the garment. She looked up and flushed as she followed his gaze, the sudden surge of heat in her body rising up into her face. She could feel her heart racing and when he didn’t look away, desperate to break the tension, she took a quick gulp of coffee and scrambled around in her mind for something to say.
All her years in England did not fail her as a clap of thunder gave her an opening to talk about every Englishman’s favourite subject.
‘Lovely weather for ducks, isn’t it?’ she remarked, and watched bemused as he burst into unrestrained laughter. After a few moments, he wiped his eyes and stared at her again, as if seeing her for the first time.
‘You know, you’re pretty funny,’ he said, still chuckling softly. ‘Quite the talented guest, aren’t you Faye? You’ve managed to transform Ma’s shop into the trendiest boutique in town and capture more than one heart in the short time you’ve been here, from what I hear. What’s your secret?’
Although he was still smiling, the teasing look in his eyes also held a challenge, as if daring her to deny the truth of his words. Refusing to rise to the bait, Faye shrugged and sipped her coffee, and her eyes flashed with mischief.
‘What can I say? I’m just devastating, that’s all.’ She had expected him to laugh, and was caught off guard when he simply nodded.
‘Yes, you are.’ He spoke softly and, this time, there was no teasing laughter in his voice. As she stared back at him, her heart pounding, he smiled slowly and raising a hand, softly traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger. She sat frozen, her mind in a whirl of confusion; the sensation of his touch making her mouth feel drier than two full bottles of wine could have accomplished.
He dropped his hand but before either of them could speak, the door opened and Amma wandered in. She paused doubtfully when she saw the two of them at the table, as if sensing the simmering tension between them.
‘Good morning, people,’ she said, and went in search of a clean coffee cup before joining them at the table. ‘The storm was so loud I couldn’t sleep,’ she complained, spooning two heaped teaspoons of sugar into her mug. Stirring the contents moodily, she shook back her braids and took a sip of the drink.
‘I’m just waiting out the storm before I leave for the office,’ her brother said easily, going back to his newspaper. ‘It’s madness to try and drive while it’s like this out there.’
He lowered the paper again and looked across at Faye who was gazing pensively into her almost empty cup.
‘Faye, I seem to remember that I promised you a trip to Cape Coast,’ he said casually. ‘Amma mentioned that you’re going with her to Frieda Ansah’s engagement ceremony tomorrow. What about next weekend – do you have anything planned?’
Faye opened her mouth but, before she could get a word out, Amma shook her head. ‘Sorry, she’s busy then too. Auntie Akosua is taking her to Ntriso for a family funeral and to show her the village.’
She grinned at her brother. ‘But I have a better idea. I think you should take a day off work after she gets back from Ntriso and take her then – and Edwin and I can come along to keep you company,’ she added wickedly.
Rocky shrugged in agreement. ‘If it’s okay with Faye, I should probably be able to take a day off later that week.’ He ignored Amma’s look of stunned surprise at his ready agreement to her suggestion and went on, sounding rather more dubious. ‘Although I’m not so sure I want you and your unemployed other half along for the ride.’
He ducked out of the way as his incensed sister aimed a blow at his head.
‘Rocky, that’s not fair!’ she protested. ‘You know how hard he’s trying to find a good job.’
Totally unmoved by her defence, Rocky folded over another page of his newspaper and scanned the headlines. ‘Well, he’s not likely to get very far with his job hunting if he spends all his time stalking the American Embassy officers to see if they’ll help him get a visa, is he?’
‘Okay, calm down Amma,’ Faye said, trying hard not to laugh at the indignant expression on the younger girl’s face. ‘Cape Coast sounds like a great idea and of course you and Edwin should come along.’
Rocky looked up at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly and she looked back at him helplessly. Shrugging slightly, he sighed and said with exaggerated courtesy, ‘Okay, okay, I give in. Amma, you and your delightful boyfriend are invited and will be most welcome.’
Somewhat mollified, Amma scrutinised Faye’s outfit approvingly. ‘I love that top, by the way; it’s really striking. So, what are your plans for today?’
Faye groaned inwardly, desperate to keep Sonny’s name out of the conversation while Rocky was there. She stalled for time by getting up to rinse out her coffee cup. The sound of the rain had lessened considerably and the sky had lightened to a pale blue. With her nose pressed against the window slats, she could see that the trees were standing upright again and a few birds were hopping around on the wet grass.
Rocky put down his newspaper and for a moment his eyes rested on Faye as she stood looking out of the window. Then, with a sigh, he picked up his jacket and briefcase.
‘Okay, ladies, I’d better get going before the traffic starts to build up,’ he said, his voice reverting to a brisk business-like tone. With a brief wave, he left the kitchen and they heard the familiar screech of his car driving out of the front gate soon afterwards.
‘Okay, Faye, so what are you up to today?’ Amma’s clear gaze fixed on her made it obvious that she knew exactly why Faye had not answered her earlier. Faye shrugged and cleared her throat, wondering why she suddenly felt so guilty.
‘Well, Sonny asked me out to lunch today,’ she said, trying not to sound defensive. ‘What about you? What do you have planned?’ she asked, hoping to change the subject.
Amma hesitated, clearly in a dilemma. Then she plunged on. ‘Faye, Sonny’s very nice and one of my best friends, but he’s not the most reliable man…’ She hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase what she wanted to say.
Faye took pity on her. ‘Amma,
it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about me,’ she said, trying to set her friend’s mind at rest. ‘I know Sonny’s really laying on the charm at the moment, but I’m a big girl and not about to fall for his tactics. I’m only here for a short time, he’s fun to talk to and all we’re doing is going to lunch. Okay?’
Amma stared back at her doubtfully but thought better of saying any more. With a sigh, she stood up and smoothed down her dress before taking her cup over to the kitchen sink.
‘Well, as it’s stopped raining, I’m going over to the shop for a couple of hours,’ she said. ‘Mama has given Baaba the day off today and I promised I would cover for her this morning. Do you want to come along?’
Faye shook her head. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather just stay in this morning. I want to write some postcards for the folks at home and sort out some clothes for washing. Besides,’ she added with a teasing smile, ‘I don’t know what time Sonny’s coming over, so I should probably stay close to home.’
Martha walked into the kitchen, her arms full of damp clothing destined for the clothes line now that the storm was over. Faye quickly relieved her of the pile and followed her outside to where the damp clothes line was swaying gently in the balmy breeze.
The garden looked fresh and clean, as though the storm had carried off every speck of dust and dirt from the grass and trees. The multicoloured bushes of pink and yellow hibiscus, creamy white frangipani, orange carnations and delicate green ferns sparkled in the sunlight while the pools of water lying on the ground had already begun to evaporate in the rapidly increasingly heat.
Faye held the bundle of clothes while Martha swiftly pegged them onto the line. Handing over a pair of navy boxer shirts, she flushed as she realised that they probably belonged to Rocky. She thought back to the scene in the kitchen and was so engrossed in reliving the moment he had touched her that she didn’t realise for several moments that she was holding out arms that were empty of clothes and that Martha was staring at her in amusement.
From Pasta to Pigfoot Page 21
