Ipods in Accra (15 page)

Comfort's mother screamed.
‘Yeda Nyame ase!
she kept repeating and she hugged them both. She kept thanking me, which I found a bit weird as I hadn't done much. Ata's father also ran out of his home to thank me. Comfort was concerned about the use of Nana-Amma's money on the taxi, but I told her I'd replace it out of my own money, so she'd never have to know.

I remembered Mum telling me that many children from poor backgrounds get persuaded to leaving home and working in dangerous and life-threatening situations and are exploited for their labour. Usually the children go of their own volition, but others are virtually sold by their parents. I was pretty sure Ata had left believing he could help his family financially. Apparently, Kwasi had only chased after Ata to convince him that he'd be a terrible fisherman. When the man who had offered him the job heard Kwasi's made- up story of Ata's bad heart, he let them go but said he wouldn't drive them home.

Eventually, we got back to Nana-Amma's, and Comfort retold the story to Nick and her friend Maame-Sika, who worked for a family a few houses away and had come round to drop off some food.

I couldn't help staring at Comfort, and thinking about how hard her life was compared to mine.

‘Why should children and young people have to work instead of going to school?' I asked.

‘Makeeda, I don't think it's that simple,' said Nick.

‘It should be though, shouldn't it?' I retorted. ‘I mean, every person should be entitled to the same things as we have in England. Why did Ata think that working was the way forward, rather than education? He's only twelve!'

‘It would be good if things changed,' Maame-Sika said.

‘Yes, but how?' Comfort asked. ‘This is Ghana, not England. What if we couldn't work as maids? What would happen to us then?'

‘Education is so important though,' I said.

Nick frowned. ‘Makeeda, do you know how expensive it is to send a child to school in Ghana?'

‘Well … no, but if everyone employed a whole family instead of one person then …'

‘Then that whole family would work, but there's no guarantee that they'd send their child to school!' Nick said impatiently. ‘Do you know how many children who work as maids actually go to school, even when their employers offer to pay for them?'

‘Well, no,' I replied, ‘but I reckon that there are just as many
employers who really don't care if their staff are educated, as long as they have their food on the table and their clothes cleaned on time.'

‘You understand us,' Maame-Sika said quietly to me.

‘Makeeda, it's just not how it is. You can't look at everything with the same London-centric —'

I interrupted him. ‘Wait a minute, isn't that what
you're
doing? You're from London too!'

Nick took no notice. ‘I mean, I think that most employers know that a percentage of what they pay their maids goes to look after that person's family, too. I think that, if you forced people to employ an entire family, then not many people would bother with servants at all. They'd say it was too expensive.'

‘I can't believe you think like that!' I said, staring at Nick.

‘You know, I'm so glad Kwasi is home,' Comfort said, trying to defuse the situation.

‘He doesn't understand – how could he? He's not one of us,' said Maame-Sika.

‘What?' Nick was shocked.

‘Maame, what do you mean?' Comfort said, horrified.

‘He's not a real Ghanaian!' Maame said.

Nick glared at her. His face had changed from being warm and open to red-cheeked and closed.

‘If you were a real Ghanaian, then you'd understand,' Maame-Sika said with a shrug.

Maame, gyae enka saa!
Comfort said sternly, to Maame-Sika.

‘Is that what you think too?' Nick said, turning to me.

I didn't reply.

‘It's a simple question, Makeeda.'

I just stared at him and Maame-Sika. Before I could say anything, he had left Nana-Amma's kitchen and was walking out the front door.

I wanted to chase after him and ask him why he'd reacted like that, but I decided to let him cool off. Before I could change my mind, Kofi joined us. He said the issue with servants, education and work was really complex. While some employers were willing to pay for the education of their servants, as Nana-Amma had with Comfort, many preferred to keep them ignorant. Kofi said it might take generations to change the way some people thought.

That evening I went next door to see Nick, but I was told that he'd left for Accra. When I asked when he'd be returning, his nana told me he'd decided to leave for Europe immediately.

He'd left without saying goodbye. I couldn't believe he'd be so angry with me. I walked back to my room in silence and sat down on my bed.

‘Hey, what's up?' Tanisha asked, coming in.

‘He's gone,' I said and began to cry. Once I'd started, I couldn't stop.

‘Makeeda, you're scaring me. What's happened?' Tanisha asked after a few minutes.

I realised I'd just been crying, instead of telling her what had happened. When I did, her reaction shocked me.

‘Ohmigod, how could you?' Tanisha exclaimed.

I sat there stunned. What happened to consoling me?

‘I … I … don't know what happened,' I sobbed.

‘You've just totally sabotaged your relationship!' Tanisha said angrily. ‘How dumb are you? You let that girl say all that and didn't once correct her, or defend him. You can't worm your way out of this; you've really messed up and I don't think he'll ever forgive you!'

I didn't need to hear that, especially from her. Tanisha could be as subtle as a brick sometimes but, even for her, that was harsh.

‘It was just an argument,' I said. ‘Maame-Sika probably didn't realise what she was saying.'

‘She did! And even if she's as innocent as you claim, you knew what it meant.'

‘I …'

‘Makeeda, if anyone accused you of not being Ghanaian you'd flip out. Every time someone calls you the English girl, you wince!' Tanisha added.

She was right. Whenever one of Nana-Amma's friends called me the English girl because of the way I served tea or something, it irked me. It was like I couldn't ever do enough to be seen as Ghanaian.

‘When you insult someone's heritage it goes beyond a simple argument.'

‘But I didn't. I didn't do that, did I?' I said.

‘Oh please! He needed you to speak up for him and you didn't. That boy flew here from London, for you! Not for me, not for Delphy, not even for his nana but for
you
,
Makeeda. He couldn't handle being apart from you, so he got his injections and spent his money and you did
that
to him?'

I began sobbing again. It felt like every one of her words pierced a new hole in my heart, but I could feel my mood changing from incredible sadness to intense anger. Who did she think she was?

‘Why are you looking at me like that?' Tanisha asked.

‘I'm fed up listening to you go on and on!'

‘The truth hurts, Makeeda, so grow up!' she replied.

That was the final straw. This was difficult enough, without having sanctimonious Tanisha all over it.

‘What is your problem?' I asked.

‘You! You've got everything, but you act like a spoiled brat and sabotage it. You're so self-absorbed. When was the last time you spent the day with your sister or did something for your mum?'

‘I knew it!' I yelled. ‘All that time I blamed Mum for ignoring me, but it was you! You're so jealous of me; you have to build a wedge between me and Mum,' I said angrily.

‘Shut up, Makeeda!'

‘Every time I turn around, you're hanging on my mum like a really bad scarf. Haven't you seen her peeling your arms away from her neck?' I asked.

‘You're lying!' Tanisha's voice cracked.

‘No, I'm not,' I said coolly. ‘You can't keep trying to take my mum away from me, it's stupid! She's never going to be your mother!'

‘I know that!' Tanisha spat furiously.

‘Are you sure?'

I was so angry that I didn't see Tanisha's hand before it connected with my cheek in a slap. That was when everything became a blur and we lunged at each other.

Within a minute, Auntie Leila and Mum had appeared and pulled us apart. We hadn't even heard them come into the room.

The rest of the evening I spent in my room. Delphy was under strict orders not to discuss the fight, so she kept humming the theme tune to a wrestling show Dad liked watching, until I screamed ‘Manhattan!'

After a while, I began to calm down and see things a bit differently. I couldn't believe how nasty I'd been. Tanisha hadn't deserved any of the things I'd said to her, and the longer I was stuck in my room thinking about her and the mess I'd made of things with Nick, the worse I felt.

I didn't sleep much that night.

Breakfast was awkward until Auntie Leila ordered Tanisha and me into the garden to sort things out. For the first time, Tanisha was made to realise that she had to be aware of my feelings, too. Then I was told that according to our custom, my mum
was
now Tanisha's mother because Auntie Jennifer had died. Auntie Leila told Tanisha that she'd always have her aunties a phone call away but that she needed to focus more on her relationship with her dad, who would never stop missing Auntie Jennifer even though he had got engaged the previous year.

Tanisha and I made up but it was an uneasy truce. We both acknowledged that we should never have fought like that, but neither of us was willing to take back any of the words we'd said. It meant that we were polite but not friendly and, despite several attempts by Mum and Auntie Leila, we boarded our flights that way. Deep down I was glad I'd finally confronted Tanisha. Even though I realised I shouldn't have been so unkind, I was glad she knew how I felt about her and Mum. For the first time, I didn't feel guilty about being jealous of their bond.

But I was also starting to understand that Tanisha might feel worried about her dad getting married again and possibly having another family. It had never crossed my mind before that she would prefer being with Mum for that reason.

I remembered what Tanisha had said about me being self- absorbed. Maybe she was right, after all. And maybe I'd messed things up with Nick for good.

My phone rang and Bharti's name flashed up.

‘Hey, how are you? Anything?' Bharti asked.

‘Nope.'

I'd been back in London for a week and I hadn't heard a word from Nick. I'd been so pleased to be home, but every five minutes my mind would drift back to him. I'd thought that he would've calmed down by now, but he hadn't returned any of my texts.

‘You need to do something,' said Bharti. ‘Anyway, I'm coming round. We need to sort out our outfits and accessories for Friday.'

Friday was our school prom. It was for the Year Elevens of the three local schools in the area: my school, Nelson and
Nick's school and the mixed school in Wealdstone. Normally everyone would be discussing something as huge as a prom for ages, but because of our exams we were all just really glad that the school and Year Tens were organising it on our behalf.

Within half an hour, Bharti was at my house sitting on my bed. We spent twenty minutes checking out the shops online, so we knew what we wanted to try later.

‘Makeeda, you need to find out where he is,' Bharti said.

‘How do I do that?' I asked.

‘Go to his house or call his mum.'

‘What if he's home and just ignoring me?'

‘Then you're just going to have to deal with it. I mean, that was the worst moment ever to go quiet!'

‘Don't get mad with me, Bharti; I know how much I've messed up,' I said.

‘Good. That should make it easier to apologise to him.'

Bharti had had no sympathy for me when I'd told her what had happened in Ghana.

Bharti handed over the phone to me and I dialled the number. It rang four times before being answered. I asked for Nick, but his mother told me he was away in Poland with his brother and grandfather – some sort of family emergency. She told me to try his mobile, as she wasn't sure how long they'd be there.

So he had his mobile. He was definitely ignoring me. We were over.

‘Poland?' Bharti looked concerned.

‘I know, you're thinking he's probably already had a holiday romance with a gorgeous Polish girl.'

‘Nooo!' Bharti lied. ‘I was thinking he probably hasn't had any time to meet anyone. Especially if he's there for a family emergency.'

I shrugged.

Bharti and I were about to head out for the shops when we heard Mum scream. We ran downstairs to find her staring at a delivery for Delphy that was being piled all along the hallway.