Faye nodded, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. It felt so strange to hear someone referring so casually to her mother, as if Annie Asantewaa Boateng had not died almost twenty years before.
Auntie Akosua hugged her gently before turning to her brother and handing over their bags. ‘Kodjo, it’s been a long journey. Let’s get going so we can reach Ntriso quickly and get some rest.’
Her brother nodded in understanding and quickly relieved her of the bags. Leading the way, he walked quickly to a dusty double-cabin pick-up truck parked outside the bus terminus. After stowing the bags inside, he helped Faye into the back seat before giving his sister a gentle push up into the front seat beside him. He then climbed into the driver’s seat, which, Faye noted with amusement had been padded with a cushion to give him a few critical inches of visibility, and gunned the engine into life.
They drove out of Kumasi with their sturdy pickup rattling comfortably along the bumpy roads. Once out of the city, they passed through small villages, many appearing to be no bigger than a scattering of houses on either side of the road. Uncle Kodjo waved and shouted greetings several times, honking amiably at young children playing near the roadside and, less patiently, at the goats and chickens that seemed bent on crossing the road just as they approached.
‘Many of these villagers are artisans who weave traditional cloths and make handicrafts and wooden carvings,’ Uncle Kodjo said, looking over his shoulder to where Faye sat behind him. ‘I work with some of them to market their crafts and help them with selling their products into the larger cities and tourist areas.’
Faye watched the passing scenery, fascinated at the difference between this side of Ghana and the slick sophistication she had grown used to experiencing in the city. Uncle Kodjo explained that some of the villages had not yet been connected to the national grid and did not have electricity. For these people, he said, life had changed very little over the years and modern inventions and labour-saving devices had yet to make their mark.
Almost an hour later, they drove past a signboard bearing the single word ‘Ntriso’ and Faye sat up in excitement. What had just been a name to her, up until now, was about to become a reality.
‘Are we there yet?’ she asked, as Uncle Kodjo carefully navigated the truck up a long winding hilly road. She had barely finished uttering the words when several houses came into view. As they reached the crest of the hill, she could see brightly painted houses and shops in what was clearly a busy town. They drove down the main street to a small roundabout where they branched left and down a narrow road that led to a large house with dusty blue walls. Uncle Kodjo parked the truck and jumped down to open the back door for Faye before hoisting out their travel bags.
To one side of the house was a large strip of land, which, he explained, was the neighbourhood football pitch. Today, however, rows of plastic chairs sheltering under large green canopies had taken over the space normally used by the local Michael Essien wannabes. Some of the seats were occupied by elderly people clad in funereal black and red cloth, chatting quietly among themselves. A few children ran around, weaving in and out of the chairs and calling out to each other in excitement.
‘Faye, welcome to our family house,’ Auntie Akosua said. ‘It’s been a long day; let’s go in and freshen up.’ She walked into the house and Faye followed, barely able to contain her rising excitement at finally seeing her home town.
Inside, the house was dark with a slightly musty smell. The living room furniture was of solid brown mahogany, with faded white lace antimacassars draped over brown velvet cushions. Dark-brown curtains contributed to the somewhat oppressive atmosphere.
Auntie Akosua grimaced at she looked around the room and wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘You can tell Kodjo is hardly ever around; this place looks barely lived in.’
‘Who else lives here?’ Faye walked over to an ancient-looking wooden cabinet sitting on squat curved legs, to take a closer look at the faded black and white framed photograph perched on top. The picture was of a couple on their wedding day. The woman stared straight into the camera with a forced smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, while her groom, slightly shorter, held her hand possessively and beamed with pride.
‘That picture of my parents was taken on their wedding day,’ Auntie Akosua said, looking over Faye’s shoulder. ‘I’ve always thought that my mother looked like a very reluctant bride, although she always denied that was the case. Kodjo lives here with his son, Solomon, a couple of our elderly aunts, and the uncle who just passed away. But as they tend to stay in their rooms or sit outside, much of the house is unused. My parents died many years ago and these are our closest remaining relatives.’
Faye gently replaced the photograph and followed Auntie Akosua up a flight of wide, slightly creaky stairs into a huge bedroom.
‘This will be your room,’ the older woman said, pulling back a pair of heavy dark green curtains from the windows. ‘It was my parents’ room but we keep it for visitors now.’
Faye’s bag had already been deposited by the bed. Auntie Akosua walked her through to a small adjoining bathroom. ‘I’m afraid that these days we rarely have running water like we used to in the past.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Solomon will fetch some more water for you from the reservoir outside when you’re ready for a bath. There’s enough here for you to freshen up, so I’ll leave you in peace to rest for a while.’
Left to her own devices, Faye sat on the bed for a few minutes, gazing around the almost cavernous room. A larger version of the wedding picture she had seen downstairs hung on the wall opposite the bed. Auntie Akosua’s mother’s smile looked even more pained than in the smaller print and Faye felt a pang of sympathy for her.
How awful to get married when you feel like that about it, she thought. Surely you shouldn’t have to force a smile on your wedding day of all days. Lying back on the bed, she drifted off to sleep. Lost in her dreams, she pictured herself smiling widely and waving to friends and family as she floated down the aisle in a beautiful white dress. She saw herself turning towards her soon-to-be husband and seeing Rocky smiling back at her.
She woke abruptly and lay still for a few minutes trying to remember where she was and to forget what she had been dreaming about. Shaking herself abruptly, she jumped off the bed and went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands, shivering slightly as the cool water cascaded over her heated skin.
You must be crazy, Faye! She scrubbed her cheeks vigorously with a soft perfumed soap. A couple of kisses and you’re already planning the wedding!
Returning to the bedroom, she decided that her jeans were still clean enough to pass but changed her top for a black T-shirt before heading downstairs. The house was quiet and her footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs as she walked down. Anxious to leave the rather oppressive atmosphere of the old house, she walked out into the sunlight, almost tripping over a barefoot toddler wearing nothing but an extremely dirty pair of shorts. She walked towards Uncle Kodjo who was sitting on one of the chairs chatting to an elderly man in a black and red funeral cloth.
They both looked up as she approached and the younger man patted the empty seat beside him.
‘Come and sit down, Faye,’ he said with a warm smile. He turned to the older man. ‘This is our friend, Faye,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘She came today with Akosua to help us mourn Uncle Ofosu.’
The older man said something in his own language and Uncle Kodjo shook his head before replying in English. ‘No, she was brought up in England and I don’t think she speaks Twi.’ He raised an eyebrow enquiringly at Faye as he spoke and she shook her head in apology.
The elderly man looked hard at Faye; his dark eyes twinkled beneath bushy grey brows. Then he spoke in perfect English. ‘Welcome to Ntriso.’ His voice was strong and surprisingly deep. ‘On behalf of the Obeng family, let me thank you for coming to mourn with them.’
Faye smiled at him, a little unsure how to deal with such formality. Then, finding her voice, s
he answered shyly. ‘I wanted to come very much. This is where my mother was born and grew up and it means a great deal to me to be able to visit and see it for myself.’
The man looked at Faye for a long time before turning to Uncle Kodjo, a questioning look on his face. The other man smiled broadly, his strong teeth sparkling white against his dark skin.
‘You see the resemblance now?’
Without responding to the question, the old man raised his right hand slowly and touched Faye’s cheek. Murmuring quietly to himself in his language, he shook his head in wonder.
‘Asantewaa’s girl,’ he said finally. ‘Asantewaa’s girl has come back to us, God be praised!’
Faye looked at him in amazement. Auntie Akosua, she knew, had been a close friend of her mother’s, which would account for how Uncle Kodjo had recognised her. Even though Ntriso was a small town, she was completely baffled as to how this man would know who she was.
Her confusion was clear and Uncle Kodjo intervened. ‘He is your great-uncle, Faye,’ he said softly, gesturing towards the older man whose eyes had suddenly become moist. ‘He’s your grandfather’s younger brother.’
He looked sheepish as the older man glared at him. ‘I wanted him to see you before I told him who you were. I should have known he wouldn’t be fooled.’
Faye stared at her newly discovered relative with interest. ‘What do I call you?’ she asked finally. He smiled and rerranged his cloth before answering.
‘I am your nana,’ he said firmly. ‘Your grandfather, in effect, as he has now passed away.’
‘Wow, I didn’t know I still have a grandfather. William will never believe this. That’s my brother,’ she added disjointedly. ‘He’s in London.’
Nana nodded, a wry smile appearing on his face. ‘Now I have seen one of my absent grandchildren, I hope he will also come to Ntriso so that I can know him before I die. Kodjo will bring you to our family house so you can greet your relatives before you leave.’
Faye nodded and the old man stood up to take his leave. ‘We’ll come over soon, Nana,’ she assured him. Standing up, she watched him walk away, his tall frame stooping slightly. Uncle Kodjo accompanied him a little way down the road and returned after a few minutes, rubbing his hands cheerfully.
‘That was wonderful!’ he said with a cheeky and completely unrepentant smile. ‘Now, let’s go inside and see what we can offer you to eat.’
His cheerfulness was contagious and she grinned and followed him back into the house. He went directly to a spacious kitchen where an ancient gas cooker dominated one end of the room. Several saucepans were ranged on the hob.
‘What do we have here? Ah, fried fish, and here some jollof rice and here some kontomire.’ As he ran through his commentary, he raised the lid of each pot. ‘And here we have some nicely boiled yam. What do you fancy?’
Just then Auntie Akosua walked into the kitchen. She stifled a yawn and headed to one of the cupboards to take out some plates.
‘Kodjo, have the old ladies eaten yet?’ She looked enquiringly at her brother before closing the cupboard.
Uncle Kodjo nodded in amusement. ‘They said they were too distraught by Uncle Ofosu’s death to eat, so they only managed to get through two helpings each of fried fish and kenkey.’
Auntie Akosua laughed and set three plates out on the wooden kitchen table, adding some rather worn silver cutlery.
‘Faye, what would you like to eat?’ she asked, moving towards the cooker. ‘Will you have some kontomire? It’s been made with some very nice fish and pigfoot.’
Faye instinctively shook her head. Although she was hungry, she would have preferred starvation to the rubbery pink meat.
‘I’d prefer the jollof rice, if that’s okay.’ At Auntie Akosua’s urging, she sat down and tucked into the spicy rice cooked with tender vegetables and the delicately flavoured fried fish that accompanied it.
‘So is there anything planned for this evening?’ Faye looked around the gloomy kitchen doubtfully. Auntie Akosua and Uncle Kodjo exchanged looks and Uncle Kodjo spoke first. ‘Why don’t we go over to your family house so you can greet your Nana and meet your family?’
Her face lit up. ‘That sounds great. I can’t wait to see what they’re like.’
Auntie Akosua stood up and stacked the dirty plates. She carried them over to a large enamel sink and washed them quickly using a wiry sponge. Rinsing the plates with water from a large jug, she stacked them in the draining tray and wiped her hands on a tea towel.
‘I’ll take you there.’ She threw her brother a mischievous look. ‘Kodjo can stay and greet the mourners who come over this evening.’
Dusk was falling as they walked down the road towards the roundabout. Arms linked, they headed east in the direction of the Boateng family house. As they walked, Auntie Akosua described the local sights.
‘Over there is the primary school.’ She pointed in the direction of a large building with a concrete roof. ‘In our day it was run by the Catholic Church and the teachers were very strict.’
‘And over there, just behind the school, is the church,’ she went on. ‘That building over there is the post office – awful isn’t it?’ For a few minutes they walked along past shops that were now closed, large padlocks securing their front doors. Occasionally they would pass a group of mourners returning from a funeral or see people sitting outside their houses listening to the radio or engaged in intense debate. The sound of a crying child drifted over to them as they strolled along, and a frisky dog sniffed around them, in search of food or a friendly pat.
Auntie Akosua stopped and pointed down a side road. ‘You see that house over there – the one with the white roof?’
Dusk was falling but Faye was still able to make out the house in question. ‘Yes, is it another famous landmark?’
Auntie Akosua grinned cheekily and Faye could imagine just how she must have looked when she was a schoolgirl. ‘I suppose you could call it that. That’s where Paul Adjaye lived. He was your mother’s first love; she had a huge crush on him when we were growing up and she used to make me walk with her past that house every day after school just to catch a glimpse of him going inside.’
‘Did he like her too?’ Faye was tickled at this new perspective on her mother.
‘Paul?’ Auntie Akosua collapsed into giggles. ‘He was absolutely terrified of Annie; he was quite shy and she, on the other hand, was completely fearless and terribly outspoken, not to mention the crazy clothes she liked to wear! The nuns were always chastising her for the way she dressed.’
Faye laughed as she pictured her determined mother stalking the terrified object of her affection. Auntie Akosua stopped in front of a big two-storey house. The house was painted a pale shade of pink and colourful potted plants poked out through the railings of the first floor veranda.
‘Here we are,’ Auntie Akosua announced. ‘Welcome home.’
Faye stood for a moment gazing up at the house, trying to comprehend that this was where her mother had been born and had grown up. A figure leaned over the balcony and called out something in Twi.
‘Paapa, it is me, Akosua,’ the older woman said loudly. ‘I have brought your granddaughter to visit you.’
‘Oh, good!’ This time it was Nana’s voice that came wafting down. ‘You are welcome. Come up, come up!’
Auntie Akosua propelled Faye forward with a gentle nudge and they walked round to the side of the house and climbed the steps leading up to the veranda.
‘Akwaaba, my granddaughter. Welcome to your home.’ Nana stood up and walked across to meet them, taking Faye’s hand between his own rather frail ones. ‘I am very happy that you have been able to come home.’
He turned to the older woman and shook her hand. ‘Akosua, welcome home,’ he said. ‘I came to pay my respects earlier but Kodjo told me you were resting. Please, be seated.’ He gestured towards a wooden bench covered with faded brown cushions. A tall figure had been standing in the shadows by the railings and he came fo
rward to greet them.
‘Good evening, Auntie Akosua.’ The man was in his early thirties and Faye gaped at him, wondering for one incredible moment what William was doing here in Ntriso.
He turned to shake her hand and she realised that although his build and even the tone of his voice was almost exactly like her brother’s, this man had a full head of hair and a closely cropped beard.
‘Sister Faye, welcome to Ntriso.’
If I closed my eyes, I could swear that it was William speaking, Faye thought. Nana made the introductions. ‘This is your cousin Joshua. He’s also called Nana Osei and he’s my oldest grandson,’ he said. ‘I say “cousin” because we are speaking in English, but you know that in Twi, there is no such word. In our language, the only word for your relationship is “brother”. So, meet your brother. Nana Osei, greet your sister.’
Joshua had taken a seat next to them as his grandfather was speaking. Following his instructions, he stood up again and shook Faye’s hand a second time, his smile warm and friendly.
‘I am very glad to meet you, my sister.’
‘I am glad to meet you too, Nana Osei.’ Faye grinned at him. ‘You really are my brother – you look exactly like my older brother William. It’s amazing!’
The ice broken, Nana called out for refreshments for the women. A few minutes later a teenage girl with short hair walked out onto the veranda carrying a tray of glasses and a large bottle of iced water. She smiled shyly at Faye and Auntie Akosua and greeted them before putting the tray down and pouring out two tall glasses of cold water. She held the tray out in front of them and they each took a glass.
Nana Osei beckoned her over and she moved to stand by his side. ‘Faye, this is my youngest sister, Yaa. She came with me so we could spend a few days with our grandfather while she is on her school break.’ Turning to his sister, he pushed her gently in Faye’s direction.
‘Yaa, greet your big sister from London,’ he said encouragingly. Yaa walked across to Faye and shook her hand, accompanying the gesture with a little bob.
From Pasta to Pigfoot Page 30
