Chapter 2- Akua

A group of boys were kicking a football around the dusty courtyard outside of Akua’s school.  Off to the side, under the shade of a mango tree, another group of children had formed a circle.  Everyone was clapping and kicking their feet.  Ampe, a competitive rhythm game, was Akua’s favorite activity last year when she was in class 5.  But now, Akua had left primary school behind and she felt too old to participate in the childish game.

The head teacher stepped through the doorway of his classroom and raised a silver bell above his head, shaking it back and forth.  The children quickly formed a series of perfectly straight lines, the littlest children trying their best to stand straight and still while the Head Teacher rambled off a series of announcement and then a very long morning prayer.  The entire school breathed a collective sigh of relief when he released them to their classrooms.

Akua hurried ahead of her classmates.  She preferred to get a seat near the window.  Her classroom was a concrete cube.  Cement floors.  Cinder block walls.  Only one window, in the center of the north facing wall.  No glass, just wooden shutters that could be pulled closed and latched to keep out the rain.  The window overlooked a small road and Akua liked watching the mini-buses, called tro-tros,  pass by throughout the day.  She liked to imagine where all of the people might be headed.

Akua rested her elbows on the long wooden table in front of her and then rested her chin in the heels of her loose fists.  The classroom was filling up quickly and Akua felt squished as three more girls, all dressed in the same brown jumper, piled onto her bench.  She turned her head toward the window.  Outside, the city kept moving—a man walked by with a stack of folded fabric balanced on his head and a woman called out “sweet bread!” in a sing-song voice as she rambled through town.  At that moment, a blue tro-tro with a dent above the rear wheel slowly drew to a stop as it pulled off to the side of the road to allow passengers to disembark.  On the back window, the words “Search & Find” had been spelled with yellow stick-on letters.  Akua’s eyes moved from the dent to the small window at rear of the tro-tro.  The mini-bus was emptying out, but one man remained seating in that back window.  He looked lost in thought.  Akua found herself drawn to him, unable to take her eyes off of him.  What a happy smile, she thought to herself, not yet realizing the way his lips curled gently at the corners exactly like hers.

SMACK! the teacher's meter stick came down hard on Akua’s table, snapping her back to the present moment.  “Do you not know the answer or are you not paying attention, Akua?” Ms. Dorothy repeated herself.

“I’m sorry madame,” Akua said shamefully.

“You’d be better be!” Ms Dorothy replied before continuing with her lesson.  She turned her stick back to the board and pointed to each word she had written there as the children read the sentence aloud.  Akua, unenthusiastically, joined in the chant…”The fruit is the part of the plant that contains the seed.”

“What is the fruit?”


“The fruit is the part of the plant…”

When Akua glanced sideways out the window, the “Search & Find” tro-tro was gone, along with that man.  And though she was able to make Ms. Dorothy think she was engaged, Akua didn’t stop thinking about that man, that smile and the look in his eyes.