Accra Noir. Группа авторов

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Accra Noir - Группа авторов Akashic Noir

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      —Oh, so a cook can’t be educated?

      —Maybe. A cook can be anything, but an educated cook was something before she became a cook.

      —Yes, I was. Detective Deacon.

      —You are a joker.

      —Maybe, maybe. The rain is coming down now. That boy better hurry.

      —Maybe he went home.

      —He went home, yes?

      —No, because home is with you . . .

      —I didn’t say he was my son.

      —I didn’t say he was your son.

      —Well then we are agreed.

      —But he looks like you. Yes, I know he is mixed, but one part could be you.

      —That is prophecy now?

      —I have eyes to see.

      —Well, not everything you see is what is there.

      —That is true.

       2

       A Woman

      —Let me tell you a story. It is about my grandmother. The Colonial Office had well-trained officers who had to make sure that the sanitation situation was fine in the towns. They lived in constant fear of malaria and sickness, and they were not worried about us, but about themselves. But since they had to live with us, they had to be sure that we were not sick. My grandmother hated them, and she did not like people telling her what to do. She was a tall woman, very strong, and she made her living as a seamstress. They used to come to the road and investigate. They would open the water barrels where we stored drinking water, and if they found larvae, they would turn it over. Well, she wouldn’t have it. So one day they came and she moved the wood covering of a barrel, and she could see that there were larvae. She took her dipper and pulled up some water. They said look, “Look, there is larvae.” She looked at them and said, “I don’t see larvae.” They insisted. And so she took the dipper and drank all the water in five gulps. Then she opened her mouth and said, “See?” They called her a madwoman, but they walked away. One day I asked her what would she do if someone hurt me. She said women have killed before. Sometimes a life must not be allowed to continue to make more mistakes. She did not smile. I was very afraid of her. And yet I felt safe with her. When I was bullied, I feared for the bullies. I had to force myself to not tell her. I wasn’t afraid of them. I was afraid for them.

       3

       A Woman and a Man

      —Sometimes we mourn alone. Sometimes we have no right to mourn. My grandmother told me to be merciful to sad women who we want to call mad. She said everybody has a reason when they are mad. Sometimes they are allowed to tell why and many times they are not. She asked me if I remember when she was always singing and crying when I was growing up. I said yes. I remember because for years she was sad. So sad. So she told me that she was not mad. She said her boyfriend was murdered. I was frightened by this. I said, “How could you have a boyfriend?” She said it was before she met my grandfather. He was her age. When she was studying at the University of Science and Technology in Kumasi, he was at school in Achimota. And he would come and visit her. She looked in my face and said, “Sometimes a touch leaves a scar you always touch,” and I knew she was telling me that they slept together. Then they broke up because she thought she was pregnant and told him and it did not make him happy, and he thought she was too familiar with one of her teachers. They grew angry and he left. Then he had to hurry to Lomé where there was a new political time. He became one of the leaders and married a girl from Togo. My grandmother went with my grandfather. Then this boyfriend was killed in a coup. He was apparently hiding in his home while they took his wife from the house. And then she looked back and saw him on the roof and maybe her face betrayed her and the soldiers looked. They found him. They shot him. My grandmother said the woman was a fool. I could not understand her anger. And so she cried, she said, and was sick for five years. She told nobody. It was her only love. She said, “Be merciful to women.” We love ghosts. We women love ghosts. They stay with us for a long time. She told me that, you know? She saw me and she could tell that I was living with a ghost.

      —A man?

      —It is not always like that.

      —People die.

      —Yes, but sometimes you feel if it wasn’t for you . . .

      —But she wasn’t responsible for the coup.

      —No, but she still loved him, and so she couldn’t mourn, even though she mourned.

      —So you are mourning.

      —I am a cook.

      —I think we are in agreement that everybody is more than they say they are.

       4

       A Man and a Woman

      —This stew is good.

      —Uhhmmm, the plantain is fresh, that is why . . .

      —Pepper, it’s good, you can cook.

      —I am a woman.

      —But it is not a given.

      —Oh, your wife, she can’t cook?

      —A lot of assuming.

      —So she can cook.

      —Who said I have a wife?

      —Because you are asking me that question.

      —I think you are the detective.

      —Well, you said I was educated, so . . .

      —Where is the boy’s mother?

      —She left.

      —She left him?

      —She left all of us. She left everything.

      —What does that mean?

      —Sometimes the heaviness of life is so much that you have to leave. Some of us leave one place and go to another. Some of us stay in one place but go away. She stayed in one place, but she left. You understand that, I know you do.

      —And his father?

      —Men are always leaving. That one is not very remarkable.

       5

       A Woman and a Man

      —If there is nobody waiting for you . . .

      —Who said there was nobody?

      —You have not looked at your phone since you came here. It is

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