Chapter One
Mapungi, The North
The last ray of sunlight was still visible in the sky. There was still enough time to keep working. Sweat trickled down Hussein’s back as he urged his mount towards the horizon. Nearly all the cows had been rounded up. He and the workers had been up at the task since dawn. They would begin branding the next day and they had to make sure that no cow was left behind. Soon, there would be no light in the sky and they would be forced to stop work.
It gave him indescribable pleasure to watch the cattle. The land. His cattle, his land. Not completely but still his. His love and devotion to the land matched that of a man to a wife. And in a way, he was married to the land. He had been born in the Big House –the house his ancestors had built with their sweat –to a Northern father and a Southern mother. He had spent the first fifteen years of his life on this land, working alongside his father and grandfather, and later with his younger cousins.
He had been devastated when he was sent away to Senior High School upon his mother’s insistence. And then, he had had to continue to the university in the south where he had graduated with first class honours in civil architecture, much to the delight of his father.
But after everything, he had returned home. Back to the land, to the people and to the satisfaction of hard physical work which he had not experienced in the offices.
“Hussein! Hussein!” he heard his name from the distance and looked up. Not that he had to look to know who was yelling his name. Towards him, horse and rider were moving at breakneck speed.
“You better slow that horse, Charlie!” he called out to the young lad who was still bellowing out his name. Almost white, Charlie had been found by Hussein’s grandfather ten years ago in front of the Big House, nearly beaten to death. The only word he had been able to mumble before sliding into a two weeks unconsciousness had been “Charlie” and the name had stuck. No one knew where he had come from –not even Charlie himself.
“Jessica called!” Charlie announced after he had managed to stop his horse and still catch his breath. “Said she most likely will be home day after tomorrow.”
Hussein smiled at the piece of news. Jessica, his favourite cousin and best friend. He suddenly realized just how much he had missed her and her long imaginative stories. He understood then why Charlie was excited to relay the message. Jessica was as lovable as she was stubborn. And Hussein could bet his last cow that half the town was smitten by her, with Charlie being the most smitten.
“Also said she’ll be coming with some friends,” Charlie added.
Hussein grimaced. It was true that he wanted to see his little cousin after so many months but a full house was not part of his hopes. He preferred the quiet. “Did she say how many?”
Charlie shook his head.
The moon was up in the sky now. The work was done –some of it anyway. Hussein turned his horse towards the Big House. Tomorrow, the women would harvest the crops while the men divided and branded the rest of the cattle. Then would come the task of deciding which sheep would end up as beef for the market and wool for the factories. “Come on, Charlie,” he called over his shoulder, “let’s go wash down and see what Rueda’s made for supper.” Rueda’s food, he mused, was one of the many reasons why he always returned home after a contract in the South. For as long as he could remember, Rueda had been the cook and housekeeper in the Big House and her sumptuous meals had been the bane of all their lives.
Somewhere South
“Mum, I said I’m fine and obviously still alive.” Kimberly couldn’t help letting the impatience show in her voice as she muttered into her cell phone. For more than half the journey, her mother had been calling constantly to check up on her. She felt like a schoolgirl on her first excursion with friends. She understood that her mother was worried about her, and with reason. But twenty calls in less than two hours? That was a bit too much. And she was not even going out of the country.
“Are you sure?” Her mother’s frantic voice nearly brought tears to her eyes. Was this how it was going to be any time she had to go away from home?
She blinked furiously and answered, “Yes mum, as is everyone else.” In the seat by her, Jessica, her best friend, motioned for Kimberly to hand her the phone. Into her cell phone, Kimberly said, “Jessica wants to speak with you.”
“Hello Ma,” Jessica called brightly into the cell phone. “Yes, Ma,” she replied to something. “I can assure you that Kimberly is going to be as safe as an egg in her mama’s womb.” From the phone, Kimberly heard her mother laugh. It was a little relief, no matter how nervous the laughter had sounded. Even the two other occupants of the car, Emma Kuma and Aryetey Ladipole laughed. “I’ll remind her to give you a call when we get there. Yes, Ma. Bye.”
“I say, Kimberly,” Aryetey Ladipole laughed, “you are mummy’s girl through and through. Let’s see if your battery doesn’t run low from your mummy’s calls alone in thirty minutes.” The men laughed.
“And let’s see, Ladipole, how your skin takes thirty seconds under northern sun.” This time, everyone laughed loudly at Ladipole who was known to be a fanatic about skincare. Kimberly felt smug with her reply, yet deep down, she silently worried about the mother whose fears only her daughter could understand. She dared not switch off her phone and she prayed it would not die on the way, unless she wanted her mum to send a search party throughout the country to find her.
It was almost dark when the group arrived at the Big House. They were worn out from the two-day’s journey, and Ladipole kept whining about the heat. For the first time, Kimberly could not help but agree with him. She had nearly choked from the dust on their drive to the Big House. Now, she was sticky all over and she did not dare to sniff the air around her.
“It’s a good thing we ate all that food on the way,” Ladipole said. “I don’t think any one of us could possibly sit down even for a meal. I, for one, am exhausted.”
Emma, who was known for his unusually large appetite, even for a man, surprised them by agreeing.
“You are all welcome to the Big House,” a warm voice bellowed. They all turned to see a woman well into her fifties emerging from a room across the hall.
“Rueda!” Jessica flew into the woman’s arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, my girl.”
“Everyone, I want you to meet Rueda. For the period you’re going to be staying here, she will fatten you up with the most delicious food you have ever tasted.” Turning to Rueda, she said, “Rueda, these are my friends, Kimberly Greene, Emma Kuma and Aryetey Ladipole. They’re also my colleagues from work.”
“Hello,” Rueda said, “I’m so glad you all decided to come. I miss cooking for a large house. Come, I’ll show you to your rooms. You must be very tired. You just have a shower and come down for supper.”
“I did not see a guest house,” Kimberly observed.
“There’s no guest house in the Big House,” Rueda replied. “When Mubarak built this house with his wife, Mati, he believed that anybody who walked into this house to spend the night should be considered family. So, he built as many rooms as possible for use by both family and visitors.”
“Wow!” Emma said. “That’s an interesting story.”
“Well guys, I believe you have just heard a brief history of the Big House. Now, unless you want Rueda to launch into the full story, I suggest you go take that shower now. Show them to their rooms, Rueda. I’ll find some workers to bring in the suitcases.” Jessica left.
The group followed Rueda up the stairs. They were all too tired to keep up with the housekeeper who chattered on and on about how pleased she was to have so many people in the house to cook for. She showed them all to their individual rooms and left with the final reminder that they should come down for something to eat if they were hungry.
Kimberly flopped onto the queen-sized bed and was instantly surprised at how soft it was. She was mildly impressed. Coming all the way to the North, away from the comforts of civilization, she had expected to meet people as thin as the pencils in her office back in Accra, with shaggy unkempt hair, dirty clothes and foul mannerisms, just like she had heard from so many people.
In fact, she had been afraid of finding herself in the middle of some kind of tribal war or something worse. The only reason she had risked coming at all was because of the fairy tales Jessica had spun about her home, and as much as she hated to admit it, also because Kuma and Ladipole had teased her incessantly about her fear of travelling and had finally succeeded in goading her into what they called the indefinite leave vacation.
Even though everything had been contrary to her expectations, she was not at all disappointed. In fact, she had been dazzled by the beauty of the land itself and by the hospitality of the people in the communities they had passed through. Jessica had been right when she initially told them not to pack so much food. In every town that they had stopped to rest, people had come to offer them food and some had subtly invited them to stay longer. She had never seen so much goodwill in all her life. Once from the window of their moving car, she had seen a woman milking a cow and a boy probably not more than eight on a horse twice his size.
And if what Jessica had said about Rueda’s food was true, she could probably stay in the Big House forever. But knowing Jessica as she did, Kimberly smiled at the ceiling, that friend of hers could convince anyone to jump to their death with her fairy tales.
Still on her bed, Kimberly stripped off her clothes. It was some time before she made the move to the adjoining bathroom. When she emerged from the bathroom, her suitcase had been left at the foot of the bed. She opened it and chose the first thing she saw, a skimpy nightgown, and whipped out her phone from her handbag.
The battery was dangerously low and she had completely forgotten about calling her mum. She berated herself her forgetfulness –and her thoughts of staying forever –as she dialled her mother’s number. It did not go through. She tried again. Nothing. Then she gasped when she saw the No Service boldly written at the top of her screen.
“This is not happening,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t have time for this nonsense,” she cried. It was quiet outside and all around but she could hear the sound of crickets, the swishing of tree branches and the occasional mooing of a cow. Or was it the howling of a predator? She did not want to dwell on that last possibility.
Everyone would be asleep or in bed by then but she had to make that call now. Otherwise, a thousand miles away from here, her mother would be anywhere but asleep or in bed, sick with worry. Still in her nightgown, she made her way out of the room and down the wooden stairs. She prayed silently to get a signal outside. She did. The network was back before she even made it past the big couch in the hall. She dropped into the couch in the dark, not bothering with the lights and dialled the numbers that would connect her to her mother in Accra.
