Changes

by Ama Ata Aidoo

  Opokuya still fretted at Kubi’s daily late return from work all the same. But for two completely different reasons. She was anxious for his safety. What would she do if something happened to him? She had lived among his people all her life, from the time she had travelled west to come to boarding school when she was about fourteen years old. Of course, she had gone home every school holiday. But what was a total of four months in a whole year? She had returned to this part of the country in order to go through nursing school, and later to specialise in midwifery. She had met and got married to Kubi. Clearly, she was as good as a stranger in her own part of the country. If anything happened to Kubi, where was she going to go? Nowhere other than where she was, that was clear. She would definitely have to stay in this city, with her children, a native of nowhere. Kubi’s people were kind and considerate, but they had not managed to convince her that she was one of them. They couldn’t. After all, most people wish their sons and daughters would marry the the girl or boy from next door, or at least from the neighbourhood. And she definitely hadn’t been from Kubi’s neighbourhood! She knew better than to complain. Some other women in similar situations were much worse off than her ... and in any case, she would rather not think of anything happening to Kubi. Not just yet, dear Lord.

  Of course, the other reason why she fretted daily at Kubi coming home late was the car. That she could never get used to. To have a car parked all those hours when it could have been moving?

  As they parked outside the gate of their bungalow, she realised the day was truly over.

  I envy Esi’s freedom of movement, she thought rather non- consequentially. She also realised suddenly that in fact she had been thinking that for a very long time.

  7

  Ali and Fusena had been classmates at the postsecondary teacher training college at Atebubu. He had been twenty-three years old then and she twenty-one. From the very first day they set eyes on one another as ‘ninos’ in their first week on campus, they had taken to each other. At that time, it was not ‘like’ as in ‘lovers’, but ‘like’ as in ‘like’. Just good friends they were most of the time, and sometimes a little more like brother and sister. For their three years on campus, they often spent a lot of their free time sharing discoveries, comparing notes and even swotting together.

  The college was one of those that had been almost deliberately placed in confluent towns of Ghana to attract aspiring teachers from the dominant ethnic groups in equal proportions. However, on the campus at Atebubu, as on the others, the students still maintained a tendency to relate along ethnic lines. Ali was of course a loner in that respect. He was not a southerner, and he did not feel like a northerner, or an upper either, what with his French accent and all.

  But Ali liked the company of interesting women, and right from the beginning he found Fusena very interesting. For instance, most evenings after supper, they would stay together until curfew. The college was co-educational, but the campus was strictly segregated. And ‘curfew’ was how the students described the hours of the night when according to the rules, men and women students were not to be seen together.

  Around this time it never occurred to either Ali or Fusena to admit that there could be much else between them apart from friendship. What indications existed in their separate hearts as to what else could be possible was for each of them a closely guarded secret that was not revealed to their conscious selves. What Ali could not admit even to himself was that he felt jealous anytime he saw Fusena talking to any male other than himself. Whether the male was a teacher or a student made no difference.

  Fusena on her part could also not bear to see Ali relate to any woman other than herself. In fact, once when she had gone to his room and met a girl-student there she had become depressed for days. After they graduated, they both went to teach at primary schools in Tamale. So Ali and Fusena continued to see one another regularly. But they were still just good friends. Meanwhile, throughout what was now six years of their friendship, each of them had got involved in a number of love affairs that seemed not to have been given much opportunity to grow.

  Fusena had come close to getting married once. The suitor had been an important man in the government with lots of years between him and Fusena, lots of other wives, lots of new money and heavy political power. He was an alhaji. As soon as he realised that she was not going to be easy to woo he had set about the business of winning her, as though she too was a parliamentary seat. Apart from carting loads of presents to her house for her mother and father as well as half of her extended family, he had sent around his thugs to warn any man he thought could be interested in Fusena as a lover. And of course that had included Ali. But the latter had been only amused by all the happenings at that time. Surely enough though, one evening he heard a knock on his door, and when he opened it he found a giant on his doorstep and concluded that his messenger had come. He treated the man with great charm and courtesy, so that before the man had even begun the verbal part of his mission, Ali had convinced him that there was no way he, Ali, could be interested in any man-woman relationship with Fusena. Why, Fusena was the sister he had always wanted but never had. Allah, and ordinary mortals too, were his witnesses. He had been worrying himself about the fact that Fusena was not married. In fact, he considered he had failed in his duties that he never managed to get Fusena married to any of the very intelligent male colleagues at the teacher-training college. At this the big man’s giant had grunted menacingly. But you see, Ali continued without pausing, maybe Allah knew what he was doing. Clearly, he was preserving Fusena for the alhaji. The giant’s face exploded in a blinding brightness. As for himself, Ali stressed, he was going to do all that was in his power actually to promote the alhaji’s cause.

  Ali had thought he had been quite earnest at the time. It was only later that he could admit — and always with some panic — that perhaps he had suspected all along that Fusena had had no intention of marrying the man. When she announced that decision, her mother, Mma Abu, nearly lost her mind, for two main reasons. First there were all the riches that had seemed so easily within their grasp, and which they had now lost.

  Then there was the bigger question of Fusena and marriage. Mma Abu had thought her friends and relatives were just being jealous when Fusena passed her examinations to go to college. They had tried to stop her from going and had tried to get her to marry. Now everyone was just laughing at her behind her back. A twenty-six-year-old woman not married? Was she ever going to? When?

  When Mma Abu accepted that she could not deal with the matter of Fusena and marriage any longer, she went to consult the family mallam. The mallam read from the Holy Book, threw his cowries, drew his lines, and told her not to worry. Her time would come.

  ‘And sir, when that time comes, would she not be too old to have children?’

  The great man threw his head back and laughed. Human beings are so predictable, Allah! ‘No,’ he replied briefly.

  ‘How many children would she have?’

  ‘Ah, she will surely have the same number of children that Allah gave her from the beginning of time.’

  Then the big man alhaji had come. Everyone had said that he wanted to marry Fusena because he needed a young and smart wife who would run his new businesses and keep his accounts for him.

  So what? Mma Abu thought. No one ever marries just to marry. There is always a special reason. The alhaji was making a good choice then, because she had always known that her daughter was clever. ‘She can be something of a little fool at times. But then, these days, being foolish is a sickness that so many educated people seem to suffer permanently from. Only Allah knows why …’

  One morning, Fusena had announced that she was not going to marry the alhaji. Allah! Everyone thought she was joking. But whether the madness was her own or something someone had given her, Fusena never changed her mind. Not all Mma Abu’s tears or the harshest scoldings from her other mothers could move Fusena. Mma Abu could not deal with the crisis. She went back to the mallam.
But this time, he didn’t bother to throw cowries or draw any lines. He just read from the Holy Book and meditated for a short while. When he looked up he told Mma Abu to be patient. ‘Fusena has a husband; when he is ready he will reveal himself.’

  ‘Sir, shall I try to find out who he is from Fusena?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But sir,

  ‘Mma Abu, if you ask Fusena about him and she herself does not know him yet what will you do next?’ Mma Abu shut her mouth tightly. ‘Go. Give some alms to the poor. If there are other problems, come back. But please, forget about Fusena and her marriage.’

  In the end it was circumstances that forced Ali and Fusena to face their emotions. Towards the end of their third year of teaching at Tamale, Ali informed Fusena that he had been selected as one of a group from their area for a special scholarship. The central government wanted trained personnel from the region for all sorts of assignments. The scholarships were tenable in England. Overseas. It was good news, definitely. It was also then that they realised this meant a long parting which, privately, neither of them was willing to face.

  One evening found them together at Ali’s, while he was getting ready to go to Bamako in the morning to tell his family the good news of the scholarship. Suddenly he straightened up and turned to face Fusena fully.

  ‘Fusena?’

  ‘Hmm … hmm?’

  ‘Would you be shocked if I asked you to marry me?’

  ‘Yes … But I would also say yes.’

  Later neither of them could remember just how they managed to get through the next couple of months. Suddenly there were so many things to do and hardly any time at all to do anything in.

  Ali had hurried home to give his two pieces of news. And his elders had welcomed both of them. Baba Danjuma who normally was a man of very few words had, for once in his life, made a speech about how he had always known Ali would make good, and how good it is to get the younger generations to marry and settle down.

  ‘Allah be praised. It is one of the few things that make one feel good about this nasty business of having to die.’

  Mma had disapproved of that statement. ‘Baba Danjuma, so how old is any of us that you should already be talking of our death?’

  Ali Baba had intervened on behalf of his brother-in-law, ‘But my sister, whether it is today or in another one hundred years’ time, die we all must.’

  Mma Danjuma had turned to stare at her brother as if he had gone mad. She was on the point of saying something again. Then she had remembered that somehow people always talk of death at marriages, and discuss marriages and other happy events at funerals.

  There was no doubt at all that Musa Musa had been extremely pleased at the news that at last Ali had decided to marry. Although for a long time he had made it a point not to let anyone know that, deep down, he was worried over his son’s continued bachelorhood. Any time he had passed through Bamako and Mma had broached the subject, he had laughed and asked her to remember that in fact Ali was much much younger than he himself had been when he married Ali’s mother.

  ‘But then how many other women had you already married by the time you were ten years younger than Ali?’

  ‘A-h-h-h, but as Allah and even ordinary people are my witnesses, I was not busy learning all the book knowledge in the world, like Ali is doing.’

  And now all the arguments were over. There were only discussions which were almost non-stop and which lasted through the next two nights and two days. At dawn on the third day Mma took the once-a-day bus south to Ghana. Her immediate destination was the old homestead on the border between Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo. It had been agreed that it would be unforgivable not to let their relatives know of such an important event; and in any case, it would make matters so much easier for Mma to go and commandeer some of those relatives and take them along with her, because they would not only know about Fusena’s people, but probably spoke something of their language as well. Besides, it would give Mma the perfect excuse to show her face there without having to put up with too many complaints. For sure, there was going to be the usual recitation about people who travelled and never looked back unless ... Aha, but then, marriage is not a bad piece of news for any wanderer to bring home, is it? Unlike the ‘great unmentionable Then Mma told her mind to please stop just there.

  Right from the beginning, things had gone quite well with Mma’s mission. In the end she had got even more volunteers than she needed. She decided two would be enough. She and her cousins arrived in Tamale early in the afternoon of the second day. They went straight to the home of yet another distant relative, a man who was a well-known transport owner. They had been welcomed warmly and given water to wash their feet and hands, food to eat and somewhere to sleep. Custom demanded that even before the Kondeys revealed themselves to Fusena’s people, a great deal of research had to be done. Under normal circumstances such research took time, and a year for it was quite usual. But their circumstances were not at all normal, so they could allow themselves only one day and one night.

  In the evening of the travellers’ second day in Tamale and Mma’s fourth day on the road, the Kondeys went to knock on the door of the Al-Hassans.

  Now please don’t ask me which Tamale Al-Hassans these were. You know all the Al-Hassans are powerful. I don’t like trouble. So even if I knew the particular group who were Fusena’s people, I would not say.

  So the Kondeys knocked on the door of the Al-Hassans, and they were asked to step across the threshold and enter the compound. When all had sat down and the Kondeys had told their story the Al-Hassans had asked for one year to think about the matter. One Kondey woman who was not known for her patience whispered rather loudly that perhaps all those Al-Hassans were deaf. Had they not heard anything that they had been told? Including the fact that their son was getting ready to go and learn in far away lands? In a few months? Of course, the woman had meant what she was saying to be completely heard by the Al-Hassans. Which they did. And did they get angry?

  ‘Well, our daughter is not a cow. You cannot negotiate for her in half a day.’

  ‘How much time do you need? Twenty years?’

  It almost became a serious fight in the end, although no one was unduly worried about that sort of altercation. After all, the ancients had said that you should worry if things went too smoothly on such an occasion, because it meant that the real storms were waiting ahead for the young couple.

  The Al-Hassans wanted three months. The three months were whittled down to one week. Beyond that, they refused to go. Mma Danjuma and her relatives packed up and left.

  When they got back to the old homestead, everyone agreed that there was no point in Mma returning to Bamako, that a week was no time at all, and that it would come very soon. Mma stayed. Within the week, she sent a message home to Bamako to say she was fine, that things were moving well and that when she had actually caught the little bird in her trap, they would see her face. The message was understood and well received in Bamako. Meanwhile, Ali had been restless, wanting to return south: first to see Fusena at Tamale and then to Accra to begin to find out and do all that was necessary for the trip abroad. However, he was told to be patient, that it was better that he waited for Mma to return. Then whatever she brought with her would be known to him, and his mind could be at ease on that particular score.

  To cut a very long story short and as had been foreseen, the week did not take long to come. It was very early on a harmattan morning and the country was cloaked in heavy bridal mists when Mma and her cousins set out from their relatives’ house in Tamale to return to the Al-Hassans. Meanwhile the Al-Hassans seemed to have been satisfied with the result of their investigations. In the end, everyone had approved of everything. It was that kind of a union.

  ‘After all,’ said somebody to whoever cared to listen, ‘these days you have to be careful. Especially when they are both young and have had some white man’s education.’ ‘ … And they had met already!’

  A bare two months
after the negotiations, Ali and Fusena had a proper Muslim wedding.

  The understanding had been that Fusena would continue teaching at Tamale while Ali went overseas, settled down and sent for her. It was all rather ideal. One thing both families insisted on was that Ali should make sure that Fusena was pregnant before he left the country.

  ‘And why?’ he had wondered.

  ‘It’s always best,’ was all anyone would tell him.

  Without being an ‘armstrong’, Ali had always been careful with money. In fact, he had started to save from even the allowances they had been given as trainee teachers. He had also learned that the scholarship he and the others were going on was quite generous. Then there was Fusena’s own salary. Maybe even with him out of the country, Fusena would not find it too difficult to look after herself and a child? Four months after he arrived in England Fusena wrote to confirm that, indeed, she was expecting their first child.

  Ali had sailed through his examinations like a fine skiff on a calm sea. He had both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in record time. He was away for a total of half-a-dozen years — the first three without Fusena. During that period, Mma Abu never lost an opportunity to remark on how long he had been gone, and whether it was a real marriage Fusena was involved in. Then suddenly a cable had come one day from the south, asking Fusena to go and collect tickets for herself and their son, whom they had named Adam. They left for England.

  Ali was at the airport to meet them. That day also bore in itself an unbelievable coincidence. From the airport Ali had taken them to his one-bedroom apartment somewhere in the city of London and immediately rushed back to his university. When he returned home in the evening, his normally dancing eyes were virtually doing acrobatics. He had news. Great news. He had got his degree. Fusena was also beside herself with joy. The next day when he was leaving the apartment he told her to see to it that she had lots of rest.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We will be going out to celebrate. Your arrival and my degree.’