Ipods in Accra (5 page)

‘You OK, Makeeda?' Dad asked.

‘Um … I need to tell you something.'

‘You look so worried … Dad began.

Mum immediately sat up and nudged Dad to be quiet. Their relaxed faces suddenly changed to what I called high-level alert. It's like their bodies went rigid into a pre-explosion state of anger, where the words from my lips could potentially act as a trigger. I hadn't been on the receiving end of one of those in a while now but it didn't make this any easier for me.

‘I …'

‘Makeeda, you're not…' Dad began.

‘What?' I prompted.

‘… with child?' he said, removing his glasses.

‘With what?' I said, horrified. Actually, I wasn't sure what was more shocking; the fact that Dad couldn't say pregnant or that he thought I would be!

‘It's OK, we can work things out …' Mum began.

‘Nooo! Ohmigod! Why would you think that? You always said I was too young to … Seriously, why would you think that?'

‘Oh thank God!' Mum interrupted.

I actually heard Dad sigh in relief. This was the problem with all those newspaper articles about teenage pregnancies. Mum and Dad always got a bit weird after reading them.

Bharti had told me that, when her parents had sat her and her brother Tejas down for ‘the chat', it had been so embarrassing that Tejas had walked out saying he'd ask their cousin Deeps, and she said she'd ask Meena.

‘I can't be a glamorous granny. I haven't finished the yummy mummy part yet!' Mum said.

‘Hmm … if you say so, but I did see a grey hair —' Dad began.

‘Where?' Mum said alarmed.

Dad started laughing.

‘Oh very funny!' Mum said, poking him.

I coughed loudly. I could see a PDA coming on and I was too far from the door to escape.

‘So Makeeda, what's the problem?'

‘The puberty ceremony,'

‘Ahh … Your nana probably railroaded you into it, didn't she?' Mum said.

‘Well, not exactly. I just sort of did the yeah, yeah thing – the line was pretty bad …'

‘Makeeda!' Dad said, shocked. ‘That's no way to treat your grandmother!'

‘Like you haven't done it before,' Mum said to Dad.

This was a new one. They never discussed stuff like that in English. Mum and Dad had seriously altered their parental style recently.

‘Well, just concentrate on your revision for now and you can decide later about the ceremony.'

‘Thanks, Mum,' I said, walking out.

At least Mum and Dad weren't too bothered if I didn't go ahead with the puberty ceremony. I actually felt lighter for having told them. It was one less thing to worry about.

I jumped out of the shower and headed to my room. It felt great to have the house to myself for a change! Well, almost. Dad was around, but he didn't really count when it came to competing for the bathroom or mirror. I'd managed to squeeze in some English lit revision after finally finishing my science coursework. My ntoma was hung up on my wardrobe door freshly ironed. We had to leave at seven p.m. for Aunt Grace's Ghana Independence party. Recently we'd been getting really good with our timekeeping. Unfortunately, this just meant we were early everywhere, as everyone else was on GMT (Ghanaian Mean Time) and running at least two hours late!

Aunt Grace had organised a Ghanaian Independence Day party but it was taking place two months after 6th March because she couldn't book a hall in time. She wanted to raise money for children's charities in the UK and Ghana. Unlike all the other parties, this one was aimed at young people. Afua and I were more than a bit suspicious at this, especially when Aunt Grace said, ‘It will be good for all of you young Ghanaians to get to know each other.' There was a glint in her eye.

The only upside was that there were guaranteed to be some celebrities there, including a premiership football player and a TV presenter. When their agents replied that they'd be happy to attend and even be our MCs for the night, we were in shock for days! It meant we could up the ticket price by five pounds. Their presence also meant that everyone our age would show up and not think it was just another function for oldies, masquerading as a party for Ghanaian youth. Afua and I helped Aunt Grace organise the event in between our revision, but Mum and Dad took over the really involved stuff a month ago.

When Aunt Grace ran the DJ list past us, Afua and I began laughing hysterically. There was no way a DJ who only played pop and didn't have a clue about the latest download hits would work at this party. We told Aunt Grace she needed to find someone with a music library that had the latest UK urban music, and Hip-Life, an African version of hip-hop. I would've suggested Nelson, but he wasn't allowed to DJ until his last exam had been sat. So we had a DJ from the local African radio station.

‘Makeeda, you've got twenty minutes to get ready!'

‘OK, Dad,' I yelled back. Twenty flipping minutes indeed!

There was no way I was going to be ready in twenty minutes! It took me, on average, ten to decide which jewellery to wear and then another twenty to apply my make-up. This could include tinted moisturiser, but Mum forbade me to wear foundation till I was twenty. She has a theory that too much make-up when you're young causes wrinkles later on. I didn't mind too much as I was nearly sixteen and she'd has eased up and actually shown me how to apply it properly. She gave me a funny look the last time I put eye-shadow on, but it was hardly my fault if it didn't look quite right – she should have shown me how to do it ages ago.

‘Makeeda, ten minutes!'

‘No way, Dad! Only two minutes have gone by!'

‘Are you arguing with me?'

I wanted to scream yes, but it came out as a mumble that turned into a no.

An hour later, Dad and I arrived at the venue – a hall in Harrow. It had recently been refurbished and had cream walls and wood flooring, with a stage on the left and huge windows which had been decorated with Ghanaian flags. There were tables near the stage for the quiz later and some extra chairs and tables dotted around the room. All the tables had balloons floating in Ghana's colours – red, green and yellow.

As soon as Mum spotted me, she gave me a plastic apron and told me to help Delphina and Afua sort out the buffet table. The DJ had already arrived and began playing some
Hip-Life as we finished decorating the room. When the music suddenly changed to one of Dad and Aunt Grace's favourite tunes, ‘Sika', I turned to see Dad dancing on the stage with a beer in his hand, trying to be funny. Delphy and I cringed, feeling slightly relieved that there were only two guests in the hall. Dad's old-man boogie dance moves were enough to stop anyone else from hitting the dance floor. Luckily, within a minute Mum had got Dad helping her at the door.

‘So glad Mum's here,' Delphy said, attaching a banner to the stage.

‘Me too. Where's Afua?'

‘She's gone to get changed. You know
they're
here,' Delphina said, excitedly.

‘What Eddie and Faith?' I asked, looking about for the celebrities.

‘Yeah, they got here just before you did, but they're changing in the other room.'

‘Ohmigod, what are they like?'

‘How would I know? Mum and Aunt Grace won't let anyone near them!' Delphina shrugged.

Within half an hour, the room was half full. There were lots of people my age and a handful of adults. I had just finished helping Aunt Grace in the kitchen when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to find Jordan, Nelson's friend, grinning back at me. He was dressed in a suit.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘My cousin invited me.' Jordan smiled.

‘I never knew you were Ghanaian!'

‘Yeah, my Dad's half Irish and Ghanaian, and my Mum's Russian.'

‘Seriously?' I was shocked.

‘Nah, I just wanted to see Eddie Gambia, innit?' Jordan said.

‘You joker!' I said, hitting him.

‘Hey, don't mess with the suit. How did you get a footballer like him to come anyway?'

‘Oh, Aunt Grace just emailed his agent over a hundred times.'

‘And that was it?'

‘Yeah, but it can't have hurt that his aunt and my aunt's best mate went to Achimota School together. I can't believe you lied about being Ghanaian.'

‘No, I didn't.
Mi papa ye Ghana ni!
'

‘Ohmigod, you speak Twi!'

‘I can only say that, but I speak Russian fluently.'

‘How come you never told me?'

‘You never asked!' he said.

He had a point. I knew Jordan was mixed race, but it never crossed my mind that he could be Ghanaian, too. But, the conversations I had with Jordan didn't always make a lot of sense – that was why he was fun to be around.

‘Makeeda,' he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, ‘I came to look for talent, so I hope you invited some model types.'

‘Jordan!'

‘I'm serious. A man like me can't be single for too long – it's like a crime against nature or something.'

I laughed. ‘You're unnatural all right!'

‘So, can you hook me up with Faith Osei-Mensah?'

‘You want me to hook you up with a famous TV presenter?'

‘Yeah, she might like the look of a young, sophisticated man in his prime.'

‘Makeeda!' Aunt Grace called.

‘I have to go. See you later.'

I was impressed that Jordan was here and it made me wonder why Nelson couldn't be bothered to attend. Telling me that he ‘didn't fancy it' just made me ask myself if he had stopped caring about us completely. Weirdly enough, I wasn't too bothered.

Aunt Grace was dressed in black and white Kente. She looked fantastic – her hair and nails were done and her jewellery complemented her outfit.

‘Right, Faith and Eddie are here, so your mum will introduce them and we'll start off with the quiz, then have a bite to eat, and then dance or do what you youngsters call dancing,' she said, smiling warmly at me.

‘OK, Auntie.' I shrugged.

‘I just need you to find Afua and collect our VIP guests from the other room.'

‘Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Me?' My hands started shaking.

‘Yes, you and Afua. Come on, Makeeda, they're just people,' Aunt Grace added.

Yeah, right! A woman who has interviewed rock stars, politicians and everyone in between, and a man who scored the winning goal in a Premiership match for Arsenal a few weeks ago! Well, at least Dad would be proud. Mum would
have to keep Dad away from his football hero, or he would embarrass himself and the family with all his gushing.

‘Hey, Makeeda!' Afua said, rushing up to me. She was wearing a blue dress, the same colour as my ntoma and had a turquoise Kente shawl across her shoulders.

‘You look great!' she said, grinning.

‘Thanks. Come on, let's get this over and done with.'

‘Nervous?' she asked.

‘Yeah, aren't you?'

‘Put it this way: pretty soon we'll be sitting our GCSEs. It's all about perspective.'

‘True,' I said, smiling.

Afua and I greeted our VIPs and walked them into the hall. I liked Faith: she was really sweet to me and gave me her lip- gloss (unused) which made Afua jealous. She kept saying, ‘Ohmigod, I even got her a glass of water earlier!' As for Eddie, he was just as gorgeous as he seemed on TV and really friendly and charming.

It was soon time for the quiz. Afua and I hadn't helped Aunt Grace with it – we wanted to enter it ourselves.

I looked around for Nick. My quiz partner was late! I was about to give up and join Jordan's group when Nick walked in with Sanari.

‘Who is that?' Afua asked.

‘Nick and Sanari.'

‘Wow!' Afua said. ‘He looks better than the last time I saw him. Is that his girlfriend?'

‘No!' I said angrily.

‘Hey, no need to get snappy,' Afua said. ‘I —'

‘Hey, sorry we're late,' Nick interrupted.

‘It was my fault – I couldn't decide what to wear,' Sanari added, smiling beside him.

I couldn't help but stare at her immaculate face and clothing. Her hijab was a pale pink that complemented her skin tone and made the pink polka dots in her beige-coloured dress stand out. The dress looked familiar. I suddenly remembered Tanisha emailing a picture of it to me last month. It was designer!

‘Yeah, that's OK,' I said, faking a smile. It wasn't. Why on earth had Nick brought Ms Gorgeous? Was I wrong? Was Sanari his new girlfriend?

Within minutes, Afua had taken Sanari to her table, whilst Nick and I settled into our quiz mode. The people who had entered the quiz were sitting on the ten tables closest to the stage. The questions came thick and fast with Faith and Eddie cracking loads of jokes in between. I'd been so relieved when they'd agreed to be quizmasters instead of Mum and Dad, which would have been
too
embarrassing.