It will be difficult if the rain continues like this. So you will stay here another night.
I guess I don’t have a choice. But, not in your all-purpose room. That roof could cave any second if this keeps up.
You will stay with me and my uncle.
Thank you.
And it looks like we will have another guest as well, Joy says, looking at Sia, who has attached herself to my leg again.
I watch Joy
tend
to the children, make sure each reaches shelter.
I can’t believe she is almost two years older than me.
Serious, happy, and cool
all at the same time.
Her name is fitting.
How did she end up with so much wisdom like the mountains themselves created her?
You are amazing, I say.
Ah, maybe you will write a song about me one day.
I don’t think there are any more songs in me.
Of course there are. You just have to let the music find you.
Wordscram
The chicken stew
is not that bad.
I eat two bowls,
and after we clean up, while Sia plays
with my phone,
Joy and I
play my favorite game.
for the last piece of cake.
TR. Ten seconds. Ready, go!
Wait, that’s too fast.
Fine, I’ll start. Terrible Rains.
Hey, you stole mine.
Six seconds. Tick-tock.
Trouble Runner-Seeker.
That’s three words.
I used a hyphen.
You can’t make up your rules, Joy.
Aren’t you running from trouble, but seeking?
Whatever, Thunderous Rebel-Rouser.
Ha! Transcontinental Roamer-Believer.
Tantalizing Rhythm-Keeper.
Who? Me?
Yes, You. The way you walk, it’s, hmmm, mesmerizing.
Be careful, Blade. Timely Regrets.
. . . .
Your turn.
You win. Enjoy the cake.
Wahala!
Huh?
Means trouble. Blade, you are Wa-ha-la!
Texts to Storm
4:01 pm
Too busy to text your brother, huh? No worries, I’m just stranded in the middle of a 4:01 pm
monsoon in the Ghana
bush. Looks like another night here. At least the food 4:01 pm
is decent. And I’ve met two girls. Well, one is a little five-year-old, who is the kind 4:02 pm
of sister I wish you were.
Kind, happy, not a nuisance.
Also, a very cute nineteen-year-4:02 pm old, who I think kinda crushes me. But don’t all girls. I’m staying at 4:02 pm
her uncle’s. He’s old, doesn’t say a whole lot.
Better than last night’s 4:03 pm
accommodations. I feel a little helpless here. The men spend their days cutting 4:03 pm wood and building stuff, which, as you know, I’m no good at. I could write 4:03 pm
a song about it though, if I had a guitar.
If I still played music.
4:04 pm
Kiss Mick and Jagger
for me. Hit me back,
Storm.
Bedtime
Enough texting. Time to rest.
Where will Sia sleep?
I suspect, in your arms.
I kinda need my space. Where do you sleep?
In the room in the back.
Can’t she sleep with you?
Go on, ask her.
I look into Sia’s eyes, and nothing in them says she is parting
with my arm, leg, or neck.
And then she winks,
as if to say,
Go on, I dare you, break my heart.
Of course, you’ll have to sing her a song.
Not gonna happen.
Or a story. Auntie Lucy always tells her stories.
I don’t know any stories.
. . . .
I guess I could read her Charlotte’s Web.
She won’t fall asleep otherwise.
Is she potty trained?
She is five years, not five months. You will not have to worry about that, Blade.
“Where’s Papa,” I read.
Alarm
You Americans sleep a lot, Joy says,
standing over me. Wake up,
my friend, let’s eat.
Breaking Our Fast
We sit around, and eat sweet bread and fruit.
Please, Sia, you need to eat, Joy begs.
She thinks she can live on stories and song.
I bet
I can get her to eat something, I say.
Hey, Sia, watch this, and I take
a piece
of bread
and gobble it like a monster.
Sia giggles and shoves a piece of warm bread and then another piece into her mouth, then gobbles it all like a monster too.
Blade, we don’t play with food, Joy says sternly, but I can tell she is trying
pretty hard not to laugh.
Plus, she’s happy Sia is eating.
Joy says
when it rains it pours in Ghana.
There is no safe passage for teachers to get
to school.
Craters
in the road fill with water and bathing birds, and every inch of earth and sky
is blurred like an impressionist watercolor.
So there is no school
and no
rules
for learning until further notice.
Text to Storm
8:19 am
Morning. Still storming
here. I’m alive though, in
case you wondered. But,
8:19 am
my phone’s about to die
because the electricity
just went out. Joy says
8:19 am
it happens regularly. WT??!!
She’s cute. Joy. And smart.
Still crushing me. Holla back!
Holiday
Joy says we should keep Sia on schedule.
Teach her
the alphabet, read her a story, help her learn her chores.
But Sia wants to play games and so do I.
So we run around playing hide-and-seek and then we crawl on the floor like mountain lions on the hunt.
We growl
and laugh
then growl
some more.
You must think this is holiday, don’t you?
Joy says, shooting us a look.
Sia and I get up to dance
and Joy
hands us
a broom
and some rags to start cleaning her uncle’s house.
Undeliverable
8:22 am
This is an auto-response.
The text message to Storm
Morrison failed to send.
Conversation
You move slowly without your little helper.
Is she coming back?
You will have your privacy now. She is off with a neighbor, playing with cousins. She will be fine.
Oh.
You miss her already.
It’s probably best. I really need to see my mother.
. . . .
. . . .
When you get back home, what will you do?
End of the summer, I’m off to college. You?
Eventually college. For now, I have responsibilities. Then, I will save for my secondary studies.
You haven’t finished high school yet?
I have one more year to complete.
. . . .
It costs one thousand dollars a year, and that is more than most families here make in a year or two.
So no one goes to high school?
In the past ten years, only two have gone. Most of the girls will become domestic helpers in the city, and the boys will hunt and cut timber.
I’m sorry.
You should not be. There is work to be done here, to give the people an opportunity, a world to build a life on. That is nothing to be sorry about, Blade.
. . . .
After watching
her lips
spread
with such passion
and intent,
we share a moment
of silence
where I don’t know
what to say
and I am staring
and the rain is dancing
and the moment feels perfect
for something.
The Moment
You know how you can politely be
at the tip of a grand ocean and you can see the wave on its way feel it propagating through water bending sprightly toward
its crest and
you know how when she finally spills
into you pinnacles and spindrifts against your thrusts and you are overcome unbound and nearly engulfed?
That is how I feel right
now
listening to her speak.
Stare