7

Togbe carried a bunch of palm fronds along on our next visit to the creek to make new fish traps, but I was more interested in hearing how he met Grandma.

“Ei, that one is a long story o!” He handed me half the fronds, settled on the mat with legs outstretched, laid his share across his lap, and began weaving.

“Then let’s get started!”

He pinned down fronds with his fingers, removed his straw farm hat, and fanned himself absently with its wide brim, that mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I sat on the bench, laying my pile of fronds next to me as he began,

“In the days when the riverbed was full of clams, women used to come together in groups at the end of the rainy season and set off by canoe for months at a time, diving and picking them.”

“Women!” I grabbed a bunch of fronds, carding them between my fingers.

“Oh yes, they were the masters of that trade! They’d travel the river and the creeks, set up camp on sandbanks from village to village, harvest all the clams they could find, and move on.”

“Amazing!”

“And fearless!” Togbe’s fingers worked rapidly, weaving horizontal filaments between the vertical. “People whispered they were daughters of Mami Wata, that the water gods were their true family. And men weren’t allowed to watch. If you spied on them at work, they’d turn you into a water animal!”

“For real!”

“That’s what people believed! And, of course, there were those who came close to finding out, like my friend Dodzi! But that’s another story. The point is that through his adventures and misadventures, he got to know this band of clam pickers who came here to Tovime, and he roped me in to help build their camp on the sandbank, and that’s how I met…”

“Grandma!”

“Edem, in those days!” A softness came into Togbe’s smile. The way he said her name reminded me of that special feeling it gave me to say or even think of Keli’s.

“So Grandma was a clam picker!” I laid my palm fronds back on the bench.

“Not yet! But she looked after their babies while they worked, and in return they were training her.”

“And what was she like?”

“Very down-to-earth, though she was even younger than us. A sharp wit who could put you in your place with one look. I loved it!”

Grandma had died when I was a toddler, but from the little I remembered she’d been gentle and sweet with us. “I guess she had to be bossy if she was looking after babies.”

“And living with those women! You had to be tough to cope with them, and their lifestyle!”

“So then… how did you, like—get to know her?”

Togbe set down his fish trap and lay back on the mat, propped up on his elbows. “That day we helped them pitch camp she was looking after two babies, and one was screaming. They were under a tree because there was no house yet to go into. I kept glancing over, and the way the baby was pulling up his legs reminded me of my baby sister. My grandma had a special way of holding her when she did that.

“Without thinking, I left the group, went over to Edem, and held out my hands. She looked at me for a second, bemused, then leaned a shoulder toward me to hand him over. I laid him belly-down over my forearm and rocked him, and he went from yelling to whimpering, and next thing he was asleep. I made to hand him back, but the two mothers quickly called that I should stay where I was. I joined Edem under the tree, and the baby girl soon settled in her lap and fell asleep too. Years later she told me that was the moment she decided to marry me!”

“What! She decided!”

“Being good with babies was a fine quality in the husband of an aspiring clam picker, apparently!”

“Grandma didn’t mess about!”

“That she didn’t!” Togbe chuckled, taking up his fish trap again. “She once told me clam pickers had the courage of Mami Wata, that was why she wanted to be one of them. That, and their freedom—the way they could just take off together on the water—and of course she loved the diving. You know the clamshells on the veranda? She picked those herself!”

I loved them even more after hearing that. But there was something I still needed to know. “So, that first day, did you guys… you know, like, talk or anything?”

“Oh yes, plenty! Once the babies were asleep.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Oh, everything and nothing! It wasn’t really the words that mattered, it was”—Togbe’s fingers stilled on his work—“just sitting there together, sharing that moment, like some magical interlude gifted us from out of the blue! When she smiled, these dimples appeared that gave her the wickedest grin I’d ever seen—two little hollows into which my heart and happiness flew and nested before I even knew what was happening!”

“Ei, Togbe, you’re a poet like this!”

He must have caught the wistfulness in my smile, because he stopped chuckling, studied my expression, and said, “Vinye, why are you asking me all these questions?”

I quickly looked away.

He fixed the last frond in place and got to his feet. “You know what, let’s get some food going, then it’ll be your turn to do the talking!”

I smiled, pleased and nervous at the same time.

We went down to the water, and Togbe nestled his new fish trap in the shallows. We took out a couple of old ones from the day before, both full. We kindled firewood, set it between rocks, and balanced a metal grate over them, an old thing Togbe had found from the days they used to smoke fish at home. I laid out the fish to roast, along with ripe plantains I’d brought from the farm.

Togbe sat on his haunches by the fire, and I fetched the coal pot fan from the basket. He looked at me expectantly. “So…?”

I sighed. I had never talked openly about this before, not even to Bright.

“In your own time,” he said.

I fanned the fire steadily, listening to the soothing rush of the creek and watching how the wisps of smoke seemed to blend in with the clouds as if being sucked up into the fluffy masses.

“So… there’s this girl…”

“Mm-hmm!”

“… called Kekeli. In my class. Sometimes I think she likes me, and sometimes…”

“You have no clue?”

“Exactly!”

Togbe plucked the fish off the grate, smiling, scraped soot off with his cutlass, and put them back, turning them over. “You know, Sena, that ‘maybe’ game can go on forever!”

“I know! So… what do I do?”

“Well, first of all, keep working at becoming the great man you’re going to become! Then she won’t have any choice but to like you!”

I tried not to sigh. If only the rest of the world shared his faith in me. “Thanks, Togbe, but what if that just… you know… takes too long?”

“Then, my boy, you’ll need to pluck up your courage and do something!”

My stomach tightened. “Like when you went over to help Grandma with the baby?”

“I guess!”

“But, supposing I do… what do I say?”

Togbe shrugged. “Like I said, it’s not so much about the words you say; it’s about bringing about the moment, carving out that space in the universe for the two of you, even if it only adds up to a minute together! As for the words—you’ll find them when the time comes. Just trust in your instincts!”

I nodded slowly. It sounded scary but… just might be the beginnings of a plan.

“But don’t go and talk rubbish o!”

We laughed, and I inhaled the sweet aroma of roasted plantain with a lighter heart. It might not quite be a road map to Keli’s heart that he’d given me, but just sharing how I felt had been a relief. I rummaged in the bottom of the basket for some plastic plates I’d remembered to pack. “So… it sounds like your friend was a great wingman! Maybe I should rope in Bright…” I tackled the peel of a smoking plantain with my fingertips.

“Dodzi? Don’t mind him, it was just because he himself was trying to score with one of the young clam pickers! But he got nowhere, and it was like all the energy he was pouring into chasing her just diverted like the course of the river, to bring me the love of my life without my even asking!”

“Poor Dodzi!” I grinned. “He must have hated you!” I plopped plantains onto the plates and held them out to Togbe, who added fish. We sat back, and he took a bite of plantain and blew steam out of his mouth, cackling heartily.

“So are you still in touch with him?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “As are you!”

“What!” I picked at my fish. It was charred but delicious. “Who is he?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Not—Mr. Adjoyi Sr.?”

Togbe grinned.

“Under all that white hair! Dodzi the Dodger!”

“We should invite him to join us here sometime if he can still make the walk. What d’you think?”

“Great idea!” My mind was racing now, filling this character I now realized I knew into Togbe’s childhood stories. I liked old Mr. Adjoyi; I’d always enjoyed his brand of humor, and now it all made sense.

I wished I could see Kekeli again, but there were no more football matches lined up. Bright had gone to visit his mother in Vume and help her with her pottery, and I heard soon after he left that Keli was also out of town, staying with relatives in Accra till school reopened. For the time being there’d be no chance for me to try out Togbe’s game plan, but at least I could keep working on the long-term strategy of becoming that great man he was so sure I’d be one day. For his part, he did his best to pave the way for me. He seemed even more aware than I that next year would be my exam year, and he increased his workload on the farm to free up study time for me, as well as to make sure we could keep up our visits to the creek.

A week after our last visit, the Adjoyis walked onto our farm as Ma, Togbe, Mawuli, and I were winding up work for the day. Adjoyi Jr. ushered his father toward us and handed a basket of corncobs over to me:

“You guys have fun at the creek!”

“Thank you!” I replaced the little stool I’d been carrying upside down on my head with the basket of corn and tucked the stool under my arm. “We’ll bring you some fish!”

Ma tossed her hoe onto a bunch of plantains in a farm basket as Mawuli came up behind her, balancing another basket on his head with ripe pawpaws at the top. “Oh,” she said, “you guys should take some of these too!” Mawuli came alongside her and lowered his head, and she took out two huge orange pawpaws.

“Thanks, Ma!” I lowered my head in turn as she placed them on top of the corncobs in my basket.

Adjoyi Jr. insisted on carrying Ma’s farm basket home for her. We couldn’t tease her the way we teased Togbe about Auntie Kafui, but I sometimes wondered if he had a bit of a thing for her. I knew he had children, but I wasn’t aware of any wife living with him in the village.

“Hey, Mawuli,” I said, “if Mr. Adjoyi’s helping Ma home, why don’t you come to the creek with us?”

Mawuli went shy as all heads turned to him. “We’re playing ball today!” he muttered.

“Black Stars future captain!” hailed Adjoyi Jr.

Mawuli grinned as we set off in opposite directions in our two parties.