Chapter 6 (pt. 2)

Jack led Akua through the farms and up the hill to the place he had discovered in the morning. They sat down upon the same smooth stone on which he had sat in the morning. The sun was beginning to set and thousands of bat had taken flight into the reddening sky. Akua attempted to dip the bananas into the groundnut paste, but ended up with more on her hands than the banana as she passed the first one over to Jack. She prepared her own and raised it in the air, “Happy Birthday, to you, Jack Spencer.”

“To me!” he reply, bumping their treats together as if they were champagne flutes.

Then, the two sat in silence savoring the moment—the flavors in the their mouth, the breeze on the air, the brilliant colors disappearing with the sun, the silhouettes of bats filling the sky. Jack looked over at Akua, licking the gooey peanut butter from her knuckles.

“You’re the only Ghanaian I know who eats groundnut paste straight from the jar,” Jack observed outloud.

“I’m the only Ghanaian you know. Period.” she retorted. “But it’s true, I do love a good spoonful of groundnut paste” she continued, “I learned it from my dad.” A smile spread across her face and curled at the corners.

Jack thought about arguing, thought about naming the people he had met since coming to Ghana, but she was right. Everyone on his list either worked in his house or assisted in his school, and he didn’t really know them. Until today, Jack had spent his entire life in this country closed behind concrete walls and metal gates.

He turned toward Akua. “You never talk about your dad,” he said, but she didn’t hear. Akua had let her mind get lost in a memory. Of the four she held of him, this one was the most vivid. It played in her mind like a movie, which was why she was so unsure about it. Maybe it was from a movie. Or maybe she had read it in a book and claimed it for herself. Even so, she treasured this memory because in it she could hear his laughter.