Missionary Position (21 page)

“Are we buying my coffin today?” I looked at him from the corner of my eye while Kojo revealed a hot pink satin lining inside of a chicken. “Cause that’s really morbid.”

“Not if you believe in the afterlife.”

“I’m not sure if I do.” Talk of death and afterlife sent a shiver down my spine, like someone walking over my grave. I knocked on the wood top of a pepper casket for luck. “What would you chose? Perhaps the black dress shoe?”

“It can also be a vice or a passion, not someone’s profession.” He opened a beer bottle and slipped inside.

The image of him inside a coffin, even a ridiculous one, sent another cold chill down my spine. If you could taunt the universe, lying down in a coffin had to be one of the biggest no-nos.

“Get out,” I whispered down at him.

Opening one eye, he peered up at me, arms crossed in Dracula pose. “I want to suck your blood.”

“Stop. Please. Get out,” I begged.

Seeing my discomfort, he hopped out of the bottle faster than a genie, engulfing me in his arms and pressing my cheek to his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s silly. It’s only fun.” He hugged me tighter.

My breath caught in my throat, causing me to hiccup. “I know.”

Warm hands rubbed along my back while I composed myself. “I didn’t mean to upset you. For the record, I’d never be buried in a beer bottle. Hideous really.”

I hit his chest with my fists while he shook with laughter. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. If you did, you’d be fine with burying me in a coffin in the shape of a tilapia.”

“True. Although, I think a rooster might be more appropriate.” I stepped away from his embrace.

The question in his eyes meant he’d missed my joke.

“Because you’re cocky.”

He grinned, puffing out his chest. “Yes, and for good reason.” He rubbed his thumb along his lower lip.

Cursed Dutch charms.

To make up for my panic attack, I bought a model of a pepper coffin for my kitchen. Kai tipped Kojo a few
cedis
when we left.

In the car, he turned to me before he started the engine. “What happened back there?”

My cheeks heated with a blush. “Same thing that seems to happen whenever we take one of your adventures. I got overwhelmed.”

“That was it? Are you planning to faint again?”

“I only fainted once.”

“True, but you acted woozy after Elmina. I didn’t figure you for the fainting damsel in distress type.” Beneath the teasing ran an undercurrent of concern.

“Me? Damsel in distress?” I scoffed. I might have snorted for emphasis.

“Maybe you don’t see yourself clearly. You obviously need a man to come to your rescue.”

Now he was really pushing my buttons. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap him or kiss him. Or both.

“Maybe you aren’t good for me if these things only happen when you’re around.” Crossing my arms, I stared at him.

The eye crinkles appeared and his lips twitched, fighting a smile.

“Fine,” I huffed. “Want to know what happened? You climbed into a coffin and pretended to be dead.”

“A beer bottle coffin.”

“Still. You can’t taunt death that way.”

“I wasn’t taunting death. Provoking death is doing something dangerous, like skydiving or climbing Everest.”

I glowered at him.

“Wait, you’re superstitious!” he announced as if he’d guessed the right answer in a pub quiz.

“Am not.”

“You are. You, Selah, believe in juju, spirits, and black magic.”

“I believe you put something out there and the Universe listens. Even when you’re joking.”

“Did you have a Ouija board when you were a kid?”

I did, but wouldn’t admit it.

“You did. Let me guess, tarot cards in college?”

Damn him.
I nodded.

“Aha, you were one of those girls.”

“What kind of girls?”

“The ones who flirted with the occult enough to scare themselves and give their black clothing, Goth, club kid vibe some authenticity.”

“I was never a club kid.”

“But the rest is true. I should have known when you said you hung out in San Francisco.”

“Way to stereotype a city.”

He started the car. “I have the perfect solution for any bad juju I created with the coffins.”

“Where are you taking me now? A graveyard?”

“No, we’re going to Kofi’s house.”

A SHORT DRIVE later, we arrived in a smaller village outside Accra’s ring road. Kai stopped to buy a bottle of schnapps at a tiny shop. Outside the store, he phoned Kofi and spoke briefly in a mix of Twi and English.

Kofi’s sedan sat parked in the driveway of a yellow stucco house with a mango tree out front. After Kofi and his wife greeted us with handshakes and big smiles, Kai presented the bottle of schnapps. Grace invited us to sit at a table in the shade of the tree, then headed inside. She returned with an older man, who held onto her arm while she slowly walked him over to the table. I couldn’t tell his age, but his hair was nearly completely white and his eyes milky in a way that suggested cataracts. His wide smile revealed several missing teeth, but the gaps didn’t detract from the joy on his face.

Kofi introduced us to his father-in-law, Solomon, an elder in their village. Even without traditional dress, Solomon created a demand for respect in his colorful short sleeve shirt and faded blue pants, loosely held up by a thin belt.

“
Maa ha. Eti sen
?” Solomon greeted first Kai and then me.

“
Eh ya
,” we said at the same moment.

Holding my hand he asked, “
Ye fro wo sen?
”

“Dr. Selah Elmore.” I smiled at him and was rewarded by a pat on the arm with his boney hand.

He asked Kai something I didn’t understand, which made Kai laugh. “No, not married.” Both men looked at me. The older man frowned and Kai’s eyes crinkled before he winked.

Winking Dutch. Fuck me.

Please.

Grace brought out a tray with small glasses and a bottle of water.

I leaned over to Kai. “What’s happening?”

“I told Kofi you hadn’t witnessed a libation ceremony yet. Thought you might enjoy seeing another side of how Ghanaians acknowledge death.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “This isn’t a social call?”

“Oh, it is, but one with some ancestors invited to join us,” he whispered.

I concentrated my attention on Solomon and Kofi, who explained we’d brought the schnapps as a gift to the family. Solomon held up the schnapps with its elaborate label and bowed his head to give thanks, then opened the jade colored cardboard.

What followed surprised me with its simplistic ritual, seemingly ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. Not unlike giving thanks at a meal, we focused our attention on Solomon, who said a prayer, pouring a meager amount of schnapps into one of the glasses. He lifted it up to the sky and spoke quietly.

Kai leaned over and explained while Solomon acknowledged the spirits of his ancestors, all of our ancestors, inviting them to join us. “He first praises God and the ancient gods of Africa.”

Solomon touched the glass to his lips, and then poured liquid on the ground three times ahead of swallowing some.

“And finally the earth, honoring those who have come before us,” Kai continued. “Giving blessings to their memories, and in return, asking for their blessings and protection.”

Solomon then passed the glass to Kofi, who poured another shot of schnapps into it. Kofi repeated the process, quietly speaking when liquid hit dirt.

Kai would be next, and then me. “What do I say?” I asked, nervous but mesmerized.

“Acknowledge, bless, and ask for blessings.” He touched my arm. “Speak to your ancestors as you would a good friend.”

If the friend were Quinn, we’d be thinking old school about homies and forties. I wondered about the origins and correlations between the two. I would have to mention it to Quinn and find out if he agreed.

Kai handed me the glass. I’d zoned out and had no idea what he spoke during his turn.

“
Me daa see
.” I thanked him, then took the glass and exhaled to focus my brain away from rappers and gangsters. Clearing my mind, I remembered my grandparents and then Lizzy, picturing her smiling face while laughing at my brain’s weird ability to jump from serious to trivial and back. While the dirt darkened with schnapps, I asked for strength and clarity. Finally, I sipped from the communal glass.

Ghanaian schnapps tasted of gin and strong moonshine, not the peach schnapps of my teen years. And it was warm. I forced myself to swallow, knowing spitting out a libation would be frowned upon by not only those present, but by generations of ancestors. My throat tightened, but I managed to swallow it.

After I passed the glass to Grace, Kai poured me a glass of water, which I gratefully accepted. “Thank you,” I mouthed.

He rubbed my shoulder, watching me from the corner of his eye.

When Grace finished, Solomon sat down and the conversation turned to my visit, Kai’s work, and how the local football teams were playing. I listened mostly, my mind still processing the libation. A handful of chickens scratched at the packed dirt, and a rooster crowed from somewhere behind the house.

Two of Kofi and Grace’s younger children arrived home from high school, their yellow and brown uniforms rumpled from their long day. The sun lowered in the sky, and Kofi invited us to stay for dinner. I offered to help and accepted the task of setting the table with Ruth, the youngest daughter. The simple meal of groundnut soup and fufu tasted delicious despite my dislike of peanut butter. Kai laughed at my expression when Kofi translated Solomon’s stories of pythons swallowing men whole, complete with instructions for us to sleep with one leg bent if we slept outdoors. I assured everyone it wouldn’t be an issue for me.

Standing in the dark outside of the house, we said our lingering goodbyes. Typical of leaving a gathering of family, our farewells circled around to conversation several times prior to sticking. Grace and I hugged, promising to see each other soon. I surreptitiously wiped my tears, suddenly homesick for my parents.

Kai held my hand on the drive to his house. “What did you think?”

“Still one of the strangest dates I’ve ever had, but it was a lovely day.”

“Forgive me for the coffin trick?”

I paused for a moment. “I do, but if you die, I’m not pouring the good stuff on the ground for you. You’ll have beer and like it.”

He smiled, but didn’t turn to look directly at me. “If?”

When, not if. Every one of us would die eventually, but live on in the memories of those who loved us. “Fine, when. Or if you die before me.”

“Probably not likely, given you’re so much older than me.” His reflexes were faster than mine when I reached across to pinch his arm. The car swerved into the other lane while he evaded my fingers. “Hey! Don’t distract me.” He laughed, but I stopped my assault.

I’d get him back later.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SELAH!” a chorus of voices cheered when I walked into Ama’s. Candles and paper flowers decorated our table.

I gaped at Kai, who shrugged, and then at Ama, who grinned.

“How did you know about my birthday?” I asked.

“You gave me your passport to copy when you first arrived in July. I wrote the date on my master calendar.”

“Sneaky,” I whispered when she hugged me.

“She did the same thing to me in June,” Ursula stated, handing me a present wrapped in wax cloth.

“My birthday isn’t until November,” Kai volunteered. “The fifteenth if anyone cares.” He cleared his throat and stared at me.

“Duly noted,” I said, walking over to him, letting him fold me into his arms.

“Already on the calendar.” Ama grinned.

Kai’s fingers drew patterns on my shoulder during dinner while Ursula charmed him, inviting him to visit her project and bring me along. After two full months in Ghana, our motley group had become a family. I counted my blessings. I would miss them after this ended. Nathan and Nadine planned to fly home in early November, avoiding the Saharan Harmattan winds and holidays that typically played havoc with flights.

I couldn’t begin to imagine saying good-bye to Ama.