Missionary Position (24 page)

“Tick tock?”

“A little.”

“Why my group?”

I told her Kai’s comment about the gossip and she laughed. “That’s probably true.”

“Honestly? I prefer women over kids. Most volunteering centers around children.”

“Kids are terrifying. You should stay away from them for sure.”

“Stop mocking me. Kids don’t like me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” She paused and studied me. “Okay, maybe it is true. You’re scary.”

I sighed. “So I hear.”

“I’m joking with you. I’ll bring you to the center tomorrow afternoon if you want.”

The next day I met Ursula outside of the workshops for a tour. In a courtyard sat beehive-shaped kilns and molds along with piles of colored glass bottles waiting to be recycled into the glass beads. Under a thatched roof with open sides, women strung beads together to make bracelets and necklaces.

Everyone warmly welcomed Ursula, inviting us to sit and join them. I couldn’t follow all of their conversations, but I laughed when I understood the gist of the subject. Kai had been right. They laughed and chatted away while they worked. The sound of their giggling reminded me of book club meetings with girlfriends where more wine was consumed than books discussed.

Quietly observing the group, I noticed a handful of the members were younger women, even teenagers. Shy smiles greeted me, and when I made eye contact with them they would giggle and turn away. I could relate to teenage girls; some days I still felt like one. One girl brought over her bin of beads and elastic to my bench. She showed me how to string the beads and then tie off the ends. My fingers weren’t as nimble as the other women, but they encouraged me even after the beads from a bracelet broke free and bounced over the packed dirt of the courtyard.

A couple bracelets made and a wonderful hour spent with the women, Ursula finally dragged me away after the sky darkened.

“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked.

“Very much. When can I return? What can I do to help out?”

Smiling, she said, “Slow down. Come later this week. They liked you. We’ll figure out how to use you best.”

“My bracelets sucked, didn’t they?”

She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “A little, but I have hope for you.”

I had hope for me, too.

THE HAZY, LATE October sun bounced off the small domestic planes sitting on the hot tarmac at Kotoka Airport. Next to the giant 777s for international flights, they looked miniature and toy-like. Kai had arranged our tickets to Tamale, never telling me the plane flying there had propellers. He crouched when we boarded the minuscule plane. Even with four seats per row, the plane looked tiny by my standards.

“Remind me again how long we have to be inside this tin can?” I asked, taking my window seat.

“This plane is huge compared to ones I’ve flown in with some of my projects.”

“Not helping.”

His eyes crinkled. “Under an hour.”

“And how long would it take to drive?”

“Thinking of changing our plans?” He stuffed my bag into the tiny overhead compartment. “Driving takes at least eight hours, typically longer.”

I tapped my fingers on the narrow armrest.

“Selah?”

“I’m thinking.”

He sat down and buckled his seatbelt. “We’re not driving there. We’ll drive back.”

“How? We don’t have your car.”

“We’ll hire one and visit Kumasi.” He pecked my cheek.

“If we live that long.”

“You’re worse than Cibele. She’s a much better flyer than you.”

Rarely did he mention his daughter. They video chatted often, almost every day. Between us there existed some sort of unspoken rule about talking about her. We didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was me or him.

“Thanks for the compliment.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “Flying isn’t something to be enjoyed. It’s a means to an end.”

He had the nerve to laugh at me. Interlacing our fingers, he said, “You’ll be fine. Think of the views.”

Once the little plane settled at cruising altitude, the view over Ghana was gorgeous. The deep green hills along the coast and Volta River faded to rolling, sepia-hued land as we headed north to the arid land closer to the Sahara.

KOFI MADE ARRANGEMENTS for us to have a driver meet us in Tamale and take us the short distance to Mole National Park.

If I had been excited about Mona Lisa, nothing compared to my anticipation about the elephants. To torture me, Kai scheduled a detour for us to visit the ultra-modern looking Larabanga Mosque outside Tamale. Dark spikes protruded from its fresh white stucco exterior, giving it a surreal appearance unlike any mosque or church I’d ever seen.

Cool.

Interesting.

We took tons of pictures.

Not elephants.

Leaving the mosque, I insisted on sitting up front with the driver to play Spy the Pachyderms as soon as we crossed on to the rough, unpaved red dirt road from the main gate of Mole leading into the park.

I scanned the brush and scraggly trees, awaiting a flash of gray or a tell-tale rustle. At one point I leaned so far forward that when Davis, our driver, hit a pothole, my forehead bumped against the front window. Rubbing the sore spot, I reluctantly slumped in my seat and told Kai, who laughed in the back, to shut it.

Davis stopped the car and I panicked, thinking I’d missed my chance to spot the first elephant. “Where? Where?” I shouted, my head turning almost three-hundred-sixty degrees.

Kai and Davis both laughed at me. “No, Mah-mee, not the elephants. Look …” He gestured out his window. “Warthogs.”

Warthogs?

Seriously?

I hadn’t flown inside a teeny-tiny plane to see warthogs. Still, I leaned over the SUV’s console and observed the furry boars with their snaggle-tusked underbites.

“
Hakuna Matata
,” I greeted them with a wave.

“That’s Swahili,” Kai corrected me. “Wrong country.”

“I assumed it was Disney-speak.” I turned around to smile at him while he banged his head against his headrest and groaned.

“I’m kidding!” I laughed. “Okay, not the wild gray beasts I came to see. Onward, Davis!”

Davis peered at Kai through the review mirror as he put the SUV into gear and slowly moved forward.

We spotted a few kobs prior to arriving at the park’s only hotel. Their elegant horns reminded me of antelope.

Warthogs, five.

Kobs, three.

Elephants, zero.

Davis dropped us at check-in with a promise to return three days later to drive us down to Kumasi and then home to Accra.

Three days for elephants. The odds were in our favor.

Our room didn’t compare to Kai’s luxury mini-suite or either of our bedrooms in Accra. Or even Ama’s.

“Sparse,” I said, looking around the bare walls and lack of decor, sniffing the vague smell of cleaning solution and maybe bleach. The king bed looked inviting. Until I sat on it. “Hard.”

“Not what you envisioned?” Kai flopped down next to me. Or rather bounced off the extra firm mattress.

“It’s fine.”

“Uh oh.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I was married long enough to understand ‘fine’ means ‘not fine, not even close to fine’.”

“No, really. Three nights. It’ll be grand.” I gave him my best pageant smile.

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That smile. It’s scary.”

I took on a serious expression. “Okay. Truth? It’s not what I imagined.”

“What did you imagine?”

“Tents for one.”

“You? Sleeping in a tent?”

“Not a regular tent for camping. One of those safari tents like in
Out of Africa
or on a brochure for game preserves in Tanzania.”

“Again, different country. Not Ghana.”

“I know, but a girl has her fantasies.”

“And you have a wild imagination,” he whispered right as he kissed me.

His kisses made me forget about my safari fantasies. Serenaded by the hum of the air conditioner, we made love.

Delightful Double Dutch mind eraser.

“DO YOU HEAR that?” I shoved Kai’s shoulder.

“What?” he grumbled from his side of the bed.

“Are you awake?”

“I’m speaking, so yeah, I’m awake. Now.” He rolled over and threw his leg over mine.

“Listen …” I waited for the sound to return.

A thump, thump, and then a rustling noise sounded outside of our window. The noise carried over the whir of the air conditioner.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I asked you.”

Yesterday we fell asleep after sex, missing the prime afternoon viewing of the elephants down at the watering hole. We barely made it to dinner before the restaurant closed. From the thin line of light behind the curtains, it was now morning. And something thumped and rustled outside our window.

“Find out what it is.” I pushed his shoulder again.

“Why me?”

“You’re the man.”

“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes at me before standing and padding naked across to the window. Pulling aside the curtain, he covered his nudity and peered out. “You need to get dressed.”

“Are we under attack?” My voice betrayed my alarm. I covered myself with the sheet up to my chin.

“No.” He laughed and grabbed his shorts. “Get dressed.” Yesterday’s T-shirt was pulled on and he stared at me. “Hurry up.”

“Let me see out the window.” I scrambled off the bed wrapped in a sheet toga.

He blocked me and spun me around to face my suitcase. “No, no peeking.”

I dressed with whatever I found first and put on my sandals. “Ready?”

“Grab your phone,” he instructed, heading for the door.

“Phone?”

“Trust me. We need photographic evidence.”

I found my phone and followed him out the door of our little chalet to the strip of grass separating it from the long row of other rooms and pool.

Only the pool wasn’t visible through the elephant.

The elephant who stood mere yards away, pulling up plants with his trunk and stuffing them into his mouth.

An elephant in the garden. Right outside our room.

He turned his wrinkled butt in our direction and his tail flicked side to side, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind we were there.

“Quick!” I whisper shouted. “Take my picture with him.” I handed the camera to Kai and then posed with my arms out, pointing to my new best friend.

“Okay, now me.” Kai’s voice sounded almost as excited as mine.

I snapped a picture of his beautiful, smiling face standing next to an elephant’s ass.

“This is the best morning ever!” I continued whisper shouting.

“Why are you speaking like that?” he asked, using his normal speaking voice. “You’re a very silly woman.”

“Shh. Don’t scare him away.” I faced our breakfast guest and watched him meander down the row of plants, deliberately picking and choosing what to eat. Eventually he moseyed away from the hotel rooms and down the path to the waterhole, his breakfast buffet evidently finished.

Nothing would top that.

Or so I believed.

First day elephant count? Seven.

Suck it, warthogs.

Our afternoon walking safari brought us down to the waterhole where two families of elephants, a few antelope, additional warthogs, and countless birds intermingled. Thankfully, zero crocodiles had been spotted, although they were rumored to lurk in the murky, muddy water. Earlier in the day, another group had a python sighting. Kai and I met eyes, laughing at Solomon’s warning. I said a small prayer of thanks, grateful for our room and door instead of a tent.