Chapter 6

 

 

ON A RATHER COOL Friday evening, a fortnight since his return from Ebinom, Michael was enjoying a cold shower. The cool water pelting his skin felt so good, he missed it the moment he shut it off, but he was hungry, and Lena had prepared supper. The aroma wafting over to his nose made his stomach growl.

He had agreed to spend the evening at Lena’s house. Life was getting back to normal. She had stopped wanting to know what was wrong, and Osei assumed his friend’s temporary madness had passed.

When he entered the sitting room, which doubled as a dining room, he found the table already set. Despite his hunger, he immediately noted the dim lighting, provided by a dozen or more candles lined up in the centre of the table.

“A candlelit dinner,” he commented with a smile.

He sat and surveyed the ensemble before him with appreciation—rice with stewed chicken, boiled eggs, and steamed vegetables. Lena had gone through a lot of trouble for him. And she’d changed into a little black dress that seemed painted on.

“You look beautiful,” he said, feeling rather awkward wearing a bathrobe. “I thought we were having a simple dinner at home.”

“We were,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I just thought I’d whip up something special. We haven’t really had time together since you returned.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “You didn’t have to.”

Lena had a certain look she could bring to her eyes. He called it her smoky eyes. She could suddenly make her eyes seem to water just a bit, so they looked like a film of moisture covered them. What made it even more amazing was that her eyes twinkled even in dim light, so that he always noticed it.

She gave him the smoky look now.

“Oh, I wanted to.” Her tone was coy as she served the food. “I hope you like it.”

It looked good. It smelled good.

“Hmmm, tastes good,” he declared after taking his first bite.

“Thank you.”

Without warning, a fierce craving for a local dish hit him. He could just see himself sitting in front of a plate of ɛtɔ—ripe plantain mashed with onions, peppers, and other spices—served with roasted groundnuts and a boiled egg. With a toothpick in the egg.

The corners of his lips curved up in fond recollection of his grandmother’s old stories. In the stories, the toothpicks had been needles, but he felt if there should be something sharp in an egg, it might as well be useful. And perhaps, he thought, he’d be sharing the meal with Forest Girl.

“Mike,” Lena interrupted his thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit tired,” he lied.

“Oh.” After a moment, she put down her fork. “Is there another woman?”

“Excuse me, what? Why would you think such a thing?”

“I don’t know, Mike. You seem distant around me. Uncomfortable, even.”

He sat back. Thoughts of Forest Girl flashed through his mind. If only he could just remember her face. If only he could find her again, then he’d have something tangible to hold on to. He’d be able to tell Lena the truth. With his mind constantly on Forest Girl, he was bound to be a little distracted. Even though Lena had never been one to overreact with feminine insecurities, she had to be a bit apprehensive.

He was aware of her scrutiny as conflicting emotions warred within him. He wanted to be able to tell her what was going through his mind, but there was no point in making her worry over nothing. Because, at the moment, ‘nothing’ was what he had. He sighed. For now, he needed to fight the battle within his heart all by himself.

“No, there isn’t another woman.”

“Are you sure?” Her tone was riddled with suspicion.

“Have I ever been dishonest with you?”

“No,” she reluctantly conceded.

“Why would I start now?”

There was a moment of silence after he spoke, then Lena sighed, raising no further argument.

He remembered his mother’s proposal. Knowing it was real seemed ridiculous. In fact, in the normalcy of his life, he found it amusing.

“What’s funny?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Did I laugh? It’s nothing.”

He pushed his plate aside, stood, and pulled her into his arms. He wished everything would disappear—his muddled desires, his mother’s adamant wish for him to marry a stranger, even Forest Girl. He wanted a simple, uncomplicated life, and right now, Lena represented it.

“Help me, Lena.” It was a desperate plea. He embraced her, burying his face in her hair.

She stiffened, momentarily taken aback by this sudden change of mood, but recovered quickly and wrapped her hands around him. “Of course, babe. Everything will be okay.”

Presently, he looked at her and touched her face fondly. “I have missed you.”

“Me, too,” she said, visibly relaxing.

Normally, this was where she’d remind him she wasn’t hooked on him or hoping for marriage.

“You’re comfortable with me, right?” she asked.

He gave a snort of laughter and nodded. They were cut from the same cloth, he supposed. Seeking comfort in each other’s arms and not demanding more than the other could give.

“I’m tired of all this talking.” Then, she pulled him closer.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She leaned into him, pushing his head down. As their lips met, Michael forced thoughts of Ebinom out of his head.

 

****

 

Michael and Osei were returning from a Saturday morning game of tennis. The animated atmosphere in the car buoyed Michael’s spirits as they approached his house.

“That was a good game,” he commented.

Osei gave a snort. “Yeah, because you won, for once.”

“Oh, come on, bro. I beat you fair and square.”

“Fine, so you won. I’m not a sore loser.”

Michael laughed. “Nonsense. Even your voice sounds hurt.”

“Okay, you won. I’m not going to throw you a party, but next time, I’m beating you.”

“Are you threatening me, bro?”

Osei did a drum roll against the steering wheel. “Actually, I believe I am.”

“You want to embarrass yourself?”

“That’s not the correct answer, my friend.”

Michael laughed as the car slowed down to turn into his compound.

Osei echoed his friend’s laughter. “Are you chickening out already?”

“Not a chance.”

The banter continued as Osei manoeuvred the car to a smooth halt in front of the house. When they got out, his house-help, Ama Bonsu, came to meet them. She had a curious look on her face.

“What is the matter, Ama?”

“You have visitors.”

“That’s not so strange, is it?”

“One of them says he is your uncle.”

He stopped dead on his tracks, his blood running cold in his veins. What was Wↄfa Sekyerɛ doing in Accra? Had his mother gone ahead and performed marriage rites in his absence? Could one of the visitors be a wife? The notion made his throat dry.

“Your uncle?” Osei asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “You mean from the village? It’s a good thing there is another AgroChem rep here then, isn’t it?”

Michael pulled him aside. “Bro, I don’t think this is about Formula F.”

Osei frowned.

“See, my uncle isn’t the delegate the elders would elect for an official trip. He’s not that high-ranked.”

Because his friend continued to look doubtful, and Michael didn’t want him to insist on an introduction, he added, “This must be a family matter, and the last time my uncle and I spoke…let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.”

He didn’t succeed in keeping the venom out of his voice as he said the last bit, but that seemed to do the trick, because Osei nodded.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he said. “See you at the office on Monday.”

As Osei drove off, Michael released a breath. With his friend safely out of the way, he could deal with Wↄfa Sekyerɛ and whoever else had come with him. He entered the house.

“Ah, Yaw. I was hoping you’d return soon,” his uncle said.

“Wↄfa Sekyerɛ.” Michael managed a smile while his gaze searched the vicinity for evidence of the dreaded wife.

Thankfully, the only other person in the room was Opanyin Sarpong, whom Michael knew to be an elder. He relaxed a little. Could this be about Formula F, after all? Although for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why, of all the elders in Ebinom, they would happen to send his uncle, who according to Sefah, had only made it to the assembly because of their father’s legacy.

Wↄfa Sekyerɛ’s eyes filled with curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

Michael’s attention snapped back in focus. “Yes, Uncle. I’m fine.”

He sat down. Since they were already drinking, he didn’t offer water. Instead, he asked about his mother.

“Your mother is doing well,” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ said. “She misses you. In fact, she sent some plantain and yams for you. The girl we met took it to the kitchen.”

“Thank you very much.”

Michael shook their hands, and after more small talk, he asked them the purpose of their visit. As the saying went, “the elders say, even when we know, we must ask.” However, he didn’t ask out of custom, but rather out of impatience.

“Well,” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ began. “It was about three weeks ago that you came back to us after being away for so long. Not only did you show us you hadn’t forgotten your roots, you even proposed to help us.”

Michael let out a breath, relief coursing through him with the confirmation that this visit was about Formula F rather than the arranged marriage. “That’s true.”

Now, he wished he hadn’t sent Osei away. In fact, in his friend’s presence, he suspected Wↄfa Sekyerɛ wouldn’t blatantly speak of the marriage, although Michael wouldn’t put it past his uncle to hint at it. And Osei wasn’t stupid. Even if he didn’t get it, he’d know something was up.

“Well, you see, we’ve deliberated on this,” Opanyin Sarpong said. “That’s what brought us here today.”

“Yes.” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ took over again. “It’s a good thing that you wish to help, but we don’t know if we can trust you.”

“Excuse me?” Michael blinked. He hadn’t expected them to jump at the offer with no questions asked, but he’d certainly not expected this.

“We know you came from us,” his uncle explained. “But you’re also one of them; the people who come with big promises only to take advantage of our people and our land. How can we be sure you’re not in this to trick us as people have done in the past? We don’t know where your priorities lie.”

This had to be a joke, and he was about to call his uncle on it when he noticed the other elder nodding his agreement. Stunned, he returned his attention to his uncle. “But, Wↄfa, how can I do something to hurt my own family? My people?”

“Ten years is a long time, Yaw. Your heart may have changed. If I remember correctly, in the presence of your mother and myself, you made it clear that some of our ways were no longer of value to you.”

What the hell? A rush of anger surged forth, and he felt himself tremble just trying to control it. How could his own uncle use his refusal to marry the stranger against him?

“How do I prove that my heart is in the right place?” He didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice calm. “What about the land I treated?”

“We were not—” Opanyin Sarpong began, and Michael could have sworn he detected disapproval in the man’s tone.

“Nothing has happened,” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ cut in.

The other elder looked rather surprised at the interruption, but didn’t continue.

The wheels of Michael’s mind began to spin. He had used the formula without informing the elders. He hadn’t thought much of it since it was his family’s land, but now, he realised they could still use it against him.

After a while, his uncle stood. “We must go now.”

“So soon? I thought you’d at least stay until tomorrow.” He didn’t really want them to stay, but they had come a long way. Plus, the longer they stayed, the more time he’d have to convince them of his intentions.

“We didn’t prepare for a stay. The rains are about to start, and we need to tend the land,” the other elder explained.

“Maybe you can use the time to think of something for the elders,” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ put in.

“Just a minute.” Michael excused himself and went to his room to get some money for them. When he returned, he handed them two envelopes, saying, “Please take this for transport, and give this to my mother.”

His mood, as he drove them to the transport yard, remained sombre. The success of Formula F could make or break his career, since he had been instrumental in getting AgroChem USA to set up an office in Ghana.

He had thought that starting from Ebinom would be easier because his people would be willing to trust him, being one of their own. The board had instantly taken to the idea of starting from a village with a representative on the management board. Ebinom hadn’t been chosen for any special reason other than that Michael’s trip coincided with the decision to approach a village.

Right now, though, he felt like he’d just collided head on with failure. What could he possibly do to prove his solidarity?

 

****

 

On Monday, stress weighed heavily on Michael’s shoulders. It started with a report of an attempted break-in at the warehouse where they stored Formula F. He’d spent most of the morning inspecting the damage and making plans for repairs and additional security. They’d also hired a private investigator to catch the culprit.

At eleven o’clock, he finally returned to the office, but today wasn’t about to get better. He had a two o’clock meeting with the other directors to discuss the visit from his uncle and the way forward.

Sitting in his office, staring at his IBM electric typewriter, he tried not to pre-empt the outcome of the meeting, but from the uncomfortable sensation swirling around his insides, his mind appeared intent on worrying.

Halfway through lunchtime, Lena walked into the office. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He looked up. “I have too much work to complete. I’ll grab a pie later.”

“Oh.” She paused in her stride, frowning as she searched his face. “Is everything okay with you today?”

He sat back, frowning. She normally didn’t bother about petty things like him having a bad day. Her usual style would be to give him space to work out whatever bothered him. As she’d once put it, she wasn’t given to effeminate feelings, which signified weakness to her. If she didn’t tolerate weakness in herself, she certainly wouldn’t accept it from someone else. Least of all him.

Which made him appreciate the fact that she’d taken the trouble to ask.

“Not really.” His tone betrayed his surprise. “It looks like Formula F is going to have a bit of a bumpy start.”

“Oh? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing wrong with the product, but the attempted break-in at the warehouse worries me. Also, I got visitors from my hometown on Saturday, and they want me to prove I’m not out to trick them before they can agree to use the formula.”

“Can’t blame them, can you?”

Now that was the Lena he knew. A strong woman who could take anything in her stride.

“No, but how do I prove to them that they can trust me?”

“You did treat some land there, right? I suppose once it’s taken effect, the product will speak for itself.”

Her dispassionate tone would normally not perturb him, but this project was more important than anything he’d taken on, and a little appreciation from his girlfriend would have been nice. Clearly, she didn’t see cause for the kind of stress he was putting himself through. Maybe he should take a page from her book.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now, I realise to some of these people, everything is personal. I treated the land without the elders’ permission.”

When she didn’t offer any further comments, he asked, “Have you notified everyone on the Formula F team about the meeting I called for?”

“Yes, but the Managing Director is out of the office right now and won’t be back ’til late. I left the message on your desk.”

“Yes, I saw it, thank you.”

With that, she left him staring after her. She might think he was being unnecessarily emotional, but he called it being realistic. He knew his people. If they’d sent a delegation to tell him he needed to prove himself, they were serious.

Although he expected them to be reasonable, he knew if they weren’t satisfied with him—the man—they’d never allow him to use the formula in Ebinom, even if the product proved good on the test land. In his opinion, that was cause for concern.