11

I thought about going with Bright to the lake till my head hurt, and I got home from school that afternoon in a desolate mood, only to find Ma in bed with fever. I hoped it wasn’t malaria, but I went back out to buy tablets from a local drug peddler just in case.

The following morning, I went to check up on her before going to school. She was still feverish, and her temperature was climbing. I wanted to stay home, but I had my first exam paper. Ma wouldn’t hear of me, or anyone, staying behind. She said she’d prepare herbs to make herself feel better. When I tried to insist, she became agitated, and I worried that would make her more ill.

I held a secret council with Klenam. She said there was no way we were leaving Ma alone. She’d already fallen asleep, so she wouldn’t know what was happening, anyway. She, Klenam, would stay, and after school I could go and bring foodstuffs from the farm and check my fish traps. We needed to raise money to get medicine from a proper drugstore in town, or even to try to take Ma to hospital if she didn’t get better.

I suggested we try the neighbors first, and I ran over to Auntie Kafui’s house. Enyonam told me Auntie Kafui was taking her morning bath, but that she’d let her know straightaway. I went to the Adjoyis’ next, but they said Mr. Adjoyi was in Accra and wasn’t due back till later. I left a message for him.

When I got back, Klenam said Mawuli had better stay home too. He could go round the other neighbors’ to ask if anyone could lend us money and fetch me from school in case Ma took a turn for the worse. She’d cook some soup when I brought the fish. Maybe that would tempt Ma, because she had no appetite. I wasn’t happy about them both missing school, but I knew she was right.

I left school straight after the exam because I couldn’t stop thinking about Ma. I was hoping for river prawns in my traps that day, because river prawn okro soup with hot pepper was a favorite of Ma’s, and Klenam made it just as well as she did. When I got to the river all the traps were full. It felt as though Togbe had somehow nudged the fish and prawns into them. I spoke to him softly as I emptied them, promising I would look after his daughter.

Halfway home, Mawuli came running.

“Quick!” he shrieked, out of his mind. “Ma is dying!”

He grabbed my hand as he turned to run back toward the house. I lifted him without a word, hoisted him onto my back, and ran faster than ever before. His hands almost cut off my breath as he struggled to hang on. He was much bigger than he’d been the last time I’d carried him like this, but I didn’t even feel it.

“Did you get anything from the neighbors?” I asked as we ran.

“Auntie Kafui came and brought porridge, but Ma couldn’t eat it!” His voice came in jolts as we ran. “She can’t even drink water anymore! Auntie Kafui said she’d go and borrow money to buy medicine, but then Mr. Adjoyi arrived and said he’d go and buy it in town and bring it. But he’s not back yet, and now…” He started to whimper.

We heard Klenam wailing as we ran inside. Ma was limp on the bed, her eyes closed, neck shiny with sweat. I ran over and touched her, and her whole body was as hot as if she were cooking from the inside.

“I was sponging her with cold water, and suddenly she started talking fast and pointing at things I couldn’t see!” said Klenam. “Then she went dead like this and couldn’t hear me anymore!”

An involuntary spasm came over Ma and her eyelids parted briefly, showing only the whites of her eyes.

“Witchcraft!” gasped Mawuli. “Someone’s trying to kill Ma!” He started to cry.

“It’s the fever!” I said. “We have to find a way to bring it down!”

“What can we do?” Klenam’s voice was hoarse.

There was no time to get her to a hospital now, even if we had the money.

“Let’s try Togbe’s way!” I left the room, pulling Mawuli behind me. I told him to put water on the fire and ran out of the compound, taking the path that led to the farm.

“Togbe, help us!” I chanted in my head as I rushed to the first neem tree on the path. It was a sapling with low branches, easy to reach. When I got back, the water was steaming in Mawuli’s pot. I dropped the neem leaves inside and told him to pour everything into a bucket and bring it in.

“Quick, get Togbe’s old blanket!” I said to Klenam. “It’s in the trunk under the bed in our room.”

I sat on the bed, propping Ma up against me. Mawuli came in with the bucket wafting steam and the pungent scent of neem as Klenam returned with the blanket. I laid Ma’s head against my chest and pulled the bucket close, starting to sweat at once. I asked Klenam to pull the blanket over our heads, and over the bucket too.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“You’ll kill her!” Mawuli started to cry again.

“It’s our only chance. Quick, do it!”

Klenam pulled the blanket over and around us like a small tent. A moist, merciless heat engulfed us, and the strangling smell forced its way down my nose and throat. I felt as though I were choking. All my pores opened and poured sweat like rain from the sky. Ma was sweating too, and I had to hold on to her so she wouldn’t slip off the bed.

“Can I open up now?” Klenam asked urgently.

“No,” I coughed.

“Are you sure?”

She saw me nod vigorously through the blanket. I was fighting panic and the urge to claw it off. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the creek; imagine I was bathing in cool, running water. Ma was growing heavier and slipperier, and my arms were aching from holding on to her. Finally, the steam began to abate, and I signaled enough.

Klenam whipped the blanket off, and Mawuli took away the bucket. I laid Ma back on the bed.

“She’s still breathing, thank God!” said Klenam.

I staggered back, overcome by the need for sleep. I asked Mawuli to bring water. Klenam was mopping Ma with a towel, and her limbs were falling limply back onto the bed. I knelt by her side. She felt clammy, and her breathing was shallow. She was still hot from the steam, but as that wore off, I realized her temperature was beginning to drop.

“Let’s leave her to sleep,” I said.

Klenam covered her eyes with her hands, and I could see she was trying not to cry. I pulled her to me. “There’s still hope!” I said, and she nodded wordlessly into my shoulder. “Now, please go and make the soup. The prawns are there.”

“You think she can…”

“Just do it, sis,” I said gently. “Ma is in God’s hands now, and we can only pray.”

Mawuli brought the water, and I poured some into a cup by Ma’s bedside and drank the rest. Then I sent him to help Klenam. I held on to Ma’s hand. It was when I felt her move that I realized I had dozed off. She opened her eyes and put a hand to her head:

“My head is killing me!” she said in a parched voice.

“Ma!” I got up and felt her forehead. The fever was broken. “Praise the Lord!” I whispered.

I helped her sit up, her face a shade paler and her cornrows all fuzzy and disheveled. I put the cup to her lips, and she drank all the water. Then I called Klenam and Mawuli. They came in quietly, but when they saw her sitting up in bed they flew to her side.

“Careful now, she’s still weak!” I smiled.

“Oh, Ma!” Klenam hugged her, and finally broke down.

I sent Mawuli back outside to make sure the soup didn’t burn. I held Klenam and she sobbed harder. There was something so raw about the sound of it that it made me wish, with everything in me, that I could have spared my little sister—and all of us—this pain and fear.

I saw Ma watching us quietly and read the same wish in her eyes. “Did someone mention prawn soup?” she asked.

Klenam stopped sobbing. “It’s almost ready, Ma!” She wiped her face with her wrapper cloth and managed a smile. “Just the way you like it.”

I fetched a cup of the neem brew from the bucket and gave it to Ma. She pulled a face as she drank the bitter liquid, then smiled as Klenam brought in the steaming soup and Mawuli carried in bowls for all of us. We had a feast around her bedside, and it felt like a happy ending, but I knew we were just borrowing time.

Mr. Adjoyi showed up with malaria tablets after we’d finished eating. They were in a sealed box with a sticker on which the pharmacist had written how they should be taken. This was not quack medicine. I thanked him and said I’d pay him back as soon as I could, but he waved aside my offer, saying Togbe had been a father to him too.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Adjoyi,” I said.

“Uncle Koku, please.”

“God bless you, Uncle Koku!”

“Amen!”

We gave Ma the first dose of the medicine, then I saw him off.

“Remember,” he said, “let me know if you ever need anything.”

I persuaded him to accept some of the fish I’d caught at the creek, and he thanked me and said goodbye. As he headed off, I had a sudden thought.

“Uncle Koku!” I called.

He turned around, and I noticed for the first time that his hair was thinning on top. I felt a fleeting sense of sadness, like when I’d realized how much Togbe’s death had aged Ma. Time just had a way of stealing up on you and drawing people away before you realized what was happening.

“If anything ever happens to me, would you…” I stopped, not sure how to continue.

“What could possibly happen to a strong young lad like you?” He smiled.

“I mean… just in case,” I said, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Sena,” he said. “Your family is my family. But nothing is going to happen to you.”