Growing Yams in London

by Sophia Acheampong

  ‘Makeeda, you made it,’ he said, smiling. He tried to kiss me but I dodged him.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  I saw a look of disappointment in his eyes, but I didn’t want to be a hypocrite and pretend that everything was fine.

  ‘Shall we go to a coffee shop where we can talk?’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  It was weird, walking around with him. There were so many people that it would have been easier if we were holding hands. As it was, we got separated four times on our way to the Italian café. Every time he grabbed my hand, I shook him off.

  ‘I didn’t want to lose you again, that’s all,’ he said defensively.

  ‘OK.’ I shrugged.

  ‘Makeeda, don’t be like that.’

  I ignored him and kept walking till we reached the café. I bought a drink and sat down at the corner table, overlooking the shoppers below. Nelson sat opposite me with a drink and a plate of chips.

  ‘Sorry, I’m starving,’ he said, tucking into his food. ‘Want some?’

  I sighed. ‘No thanks.’

  There was an awkward silence between us as I waited for him to finish eating. It just made the situation worse. I wanted everything to be over. I wanted to know whether he was really going to dump me.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t believe you thought I called to dump you,’ he said, reaching for my hand. I moved back from the table.

  ‘Makeeda? Can’t I touch you any more?’

  ‘Stop pretending, Nelson. I know why I’m here. You want to dump me in person.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want us to break up! I really like you!’ he said.

  I stared at him. None of this made any sense to me. Here he was telling me that he liked me, but all I could feel was anger towards him because of the way he treated me.

  ‘Whatever!’ I said. ‘But that doesn’t explain standing me up or the stuff you said in front of your mates.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, Makeeda. I’m sorry, but you must believe me when I say I like you.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why do you like me?’

  ‘Umm . . . I like the fact that you’re totally obsessed with lip-gloss.’

  ‘No, I’m not. What else?’ I said.

  ‘I like the fact that you are interested in your culture.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I heard about that essay you wrote, against your teacher’s advice. I was really impressed.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t think you’d be interested,’ I said.

  ‘Why not? You don’t think that I’m only interested in music do you?’

  ‘I . . .’

  ‘Oh great! So you think that’s all I’m about!’ he said, irritated. ‘Well, I guess we don’t know each other that well.’

  He had a point. I had no idea if Nelson had any other interests beyond music. I’d never asked.

  ‘So, come on then – what else are you into?’

  ‘Well, every weekend I go to South London and help out in a Portuguese school.’

  I was shocked. I’d never asked Nelson why he couldn’t see me on a Saturday. I suddenly felt guilty. Maybe I wasn’t such a good girlfriend after all.

  ‘Surprised?’

  ‘Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think you’d be interested.’

  I guessed I deserved that. Once again silence enveloped us, and we stared at the shoppers laden down with red bargain bags. It wasn’t going the way I thought it would. I thought we’d apologise, kiss and make up – with lots of kissing – or simply apologise and agree to be friends. Right now I was just confused. He angered me, but I still liked him. It was a weird feeling.

  ‘Makeeda, why didn’t you tell your parents about me?’ Nelson asked.

  ‘I couldn’t. They wouldn’t have let me see you.’

  ‘You could’ve told me. I would’ve understood.’

  ‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Besides, I thought you’d dump me if you found out how difficult it really was to see me.’

  ‘I’m not like that!’

  ‘Yeah? Is that why you stood me up? You knew I was still grounded!’

  ‘I apologised for that, but I was angry. Mel was telling me stuff about you that I should’ve already known. You made me look stupid!’

  ‘So you’d thought you’d get me back?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t try and turn this around. If you’d been honest with me from the start, none of this would’ve happened.’

  I knew he was right, but I just couldn’t seem to get past the fact that he’d hurt me.

  ‘You’re not the perfect boyfriend you know!’ I told him.

  ‘I never said I was, but at least I don’t hide stuff.’

  ‘I don’t do that.’

  ‘Really? Then why don’t you trust me with your private stuff? I’m your boyfriend, but you’d rather tell your mates what’s going on in your life than me.’

  ‘What? That’s rubbish!’

  ‘It’s true!’ he said angrily. ‘Think about it, Makeeda. How come I told you about my mum, but you never once told me anything that really mattered to you? It’s like you can’t share or something!’ he said.

  I felt like he knew somehow about the stuff between Tanisha and Mum, even though I’d never told him. I suddenly got angry and I stood up.

  ‘That’s not true, Nelson!’ I said, and I walked out of the café.

  ‘Makeeda? Makeeda?’ Nelson called after me.

  I kept walking until I couldn’t hear his voice any more.

  I was wading through the crowds when someone caught my arm.

  ‘Get lost!’ I said, before turning to see Afua holding onto me. She looked shocked at my outburst.

  ‘Hey, I just wanted to say hello,’ she said, smiling uncertainly.

  ‘Oh, Afua!’ I said, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry; I thought you were someone else.’

  We moved to the corridor leading to the toilets, as there were less people there.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she said, looking at me intently.

  ‘Um, yeah,’ I lied, wiping my face. I hadn’t noticed I’d been crying.

  Afua handed me a tissue and I just stared at it. Why was she being so kind?

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not used!’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I know. It’s just that you and I aren’t exactly . . .’

  ‘Friendly? I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a bit of a . . .’

  ‘A two-faced cow?’ I offered.

  ‘Um, yeah,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘Listen, yesterday made me think about stuff.’

  ‘Hmm . . . me too,’ I admitted.

  ‘I thought making you look bad was the only way to get people to notice me,’ Afua said.

  ‘Right.’ I didn’t quite understand her, but I reckoned it had something to do with her parents, like most things did.

  ‘Anyway, I was being out of order, so . . . I’m sorry.’

  I stared at her. This had to be a joke: Afua apologising to me? I knew she was being genuine, because she actually looked nervous. The thing was, apart from stressing about meeting Nelson, at the back of my mind I knew something between Afua and me had shifted. Yesterday had changed the way I thought about her. She wasn’t just showing off about her knowledge, she was proud of it, and in a funny way she had made me proud to be learning about our culture too.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry too,’ I said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For all the seriously mean names I’ve called you.’

  ‘Er . . . when?’

  ‘In my head,’ I said.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, smiling. ‘Do you reckon you’ll ever stop doing that?’

  ‘Dunno yet, but I can try,’ I said, returning her smile.

  A girl about our age, dressed in a department
store uniform, waved to her.

  ‘Listen, I have to go, but I’m glad I bumped into you,’ she said, suddenly hugging me.

  I was more than a bit shocked, as we never hug. In fact, we’d never even touched. Even when our mothers tried to make us hold hands for a photograph when we were five, we pulled apart.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ I said, returning it and she left.

  As I began walking, my phone rang. It was Bharti.

  ‘Well, are you two sorted then?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied automatically, thinking that she meant Afua.

  ‘So we can go shopping?’

  ‘Shopping? No, not today. Nelson and I still haven’t sorted everything out,’ I said.

  I told her about my argument with him but, when she suggested we meet up, I said no. I actually wanted to be alone. I needed to think; everything was whizzing around in my head. I knew Nelson was right about a lot of things. I should’ve told him about my parents, but I didn’t think it was just about trust. I suddenly realised I was so used to keeping things in that it was actually difficult for me to be open with the right people.

  I knew the real reason I’d walked out of the café was because I was scared. I was scared that he was right about me not being able to share my feelings, and I didn’t like what it meant for all my relationships – with my friends, with Mum, with him. If I couldn’t tell people how I felt, how could they ever truly understand me? I realised that bottling things up seemed to cause problems in all my relationships. It made me so aware of my feelings that I couldn’t begin to consider how other people felt. The more I thought about it, not being honest with everyone was a bit like lying to them. I didn’t want to be that girl. But I knew that girl was me. What if I couldn’t change?

  I headed to HMV and began angrily flicking through some CDs. When a sales assistant approached me, I must have frightened him off, because he didn’t even manage to get halfway through his polite enquiry before he abruptly left. I even saw the security guard giving me a cold stare.

  I was having a weird day. Somehow I’d broken up with my boyfriend and made up with Afua.

  A Fairytale track was being played. It reminded me of Nelson, so I began wading my way through the crowd towards the entrance. I got as far as the shop doors when my phone beeped with a text message.

  Nelson:

  W R U?

  Me:

  I’m outside HMV.

  Nelson:

  Don’t move!

  Five minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Nelson.

  ‘Makeeda,’ he said. ‘Why did you storm off like that?’

  ‘I . . .’ I began. This was my chance to tell him about Mum and Tanisha, but I couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said finally.

  The words seemed to hang in the air. I started crying, because I thought that I was doing the same thing again – holding everything in. Except this time Nelson would surely dump me for it.

  ‘I’m sorry I never told you about my parents. I didn’t think it was an issue. I was wrong,’ I said tearfully.

  ‘It’s OK, I understand,’ he said, hugging me. ‘I shouldn’t have treated you like that, Makeeda. I was too angry to hear your side of it. I didn’t think. I just wanted to hurt you,’ he said.

  ‘It’s OK, I deserved it.’

  We pulled apart and he looked me straight in the eye.

  ‘I didn’t mean what I said in the café. I know you trust me and, when you’re ready, you’ll tell me what’s going on,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, relieved. I was actually surprised. I thought it would be easier to tell him everything. I was wrong again. I guess it’s something I have to work on.

  ‘None of this changes how I feel about you, Makeeda,’ he said, wiping my face.

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ I said, smiling.

  He hugged me again and I suddenly felt like I was floating. I knew I’d explain about Mum and Tanisha to him one day but, if he wasn’t in a hurry, neither was I.

  ‘Oh yeah, this is for you,’ I said, handing him his present.

  ‘Wow, thanks!’ he said excitedly. ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing me a small, rectangular box covered in silver wrapping paper.

  I opened it to find the latest MAC lip-gloss.

  ‘Thank you!’ I said. I was pleased and surprised.

  ‘You know you’re right,’ said Nelson.

  ‘About what?’ I replied, applying my new lip-gloss.

  ‘I am all about my music.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I told him.

  He used his envelope to hit me on my bum.

  ‘Hey!’ I said.

  ‘Well, you can’t deny your lip-gloss obsession!’

  ‘Like I would!’ I said, kissing him.

  ‘Wow, Makeeda!’ he said grinning. ‘That was . . .’ he began.

  I had a feeling that, if anyone asked him again about his best kiss ever, I’d definitely get a mention.

  Guide to Ghanaian Terms and Phrases

  Ghanaian Terms

  Adowa

  A traditional dance, and also music, of the Akan people of Ghana.

  Akan

  Refers to the first group of settlers who came to modern day Ghana who form the largest ethnic group in Ghana. It consists of several politically independent units, such as the Asante, Akim, Akuapem and Kwahu.

  Asante (Ashanti)

  A region in Ghana. The Asantes constitute the largest single political group of the Akans and speak Asante-Twi.

  Asante Kingdom

  Created between the 16th and 18th Centuries and comprised of many states united under Osei Tutu the first Asantehene. It gained wealth through trade and conquests.

  Asantehene

  King of the Asante people

  atwimɔ

  Fried biscuits.

  duku

  Ghanaian style lady’s head-scarf

  durbar

  An official reception held in colonial times between a local dignitary and a British governor.

  Egweso (Ejisu)

  A town close to Kumasi, the capital of Asante.

  garden egg stew

  A tomato-based stew made with egg-sized white or yellow aubergines

  joloff rice

  A traditional West African meal of fried rice with tomatoes, peppers, onions and meat.

  Kente

  A colourful Asante ceremonial cloth, worn at festivals, times of thanksgiving and special occasions. It is made of silk and woven on a hand-loom in strips, before being sewn together to form a larger cloth that is then made into garments.

  Kumasi

  Capital city of the Asante region in Ghana.

  Manshia Palace

  Asantehene’s palace.

  ntoma

  African design usually made of cotton material.

  outdooring

  Public naming ceremony of a new born child.

  plantain

  Part of the banana family. Comes in two varieties: green (unripe), which are cooked like potatoes, and yellow (ripe), which are usually fried, roasted or boiled.

  Twi

  One of the main dialects of the Akan language, spoken by the Asante people.

  Yaa Asantewaa

  Queen Mother of the Egweso people who fought the British in 1900.

  yam

  A vegetable that grows in the form of tubers. It has rough brown skin (which is peeled before cooking) and a white fleshy centre. It is cooked in a similar way to potatoes.

  Ghanaian Phrases

  Akwaaba.

  You are welcome.

  Yε frε wo sεn?

  What is your name?

  Yε frε me . ..

  My name is…

  I Tanisha ni?

  Hello, is that Tanisha?

  Wo ho te sεn?’

  How are you?

  Me ho yε.

  I am fine.

  Wo maame wo hen?

  Where is your mother?

  Kose Nyame wɔ hɔ!

  Accept my sy
mpathies. God will help you to bear your loss.