So Much for Democracy (15 page)
“What's that?”
“When Gordo was sick, you spent your whole time taking care of Piper, and I didn't worry about either of you. Then when the soldier came, you were so strong. You helped Dad get Gordo to the clinic. You never complained. So what I learned is that you are a caring and responsible girl, and I need to respect that.”
Tears explode in my eyes and pour down my face. It's all I can do to say, “Thanks, Mom.”
“That doesn't mean you're allowed to run around and do whatever you want,” Mom says.
“I know.” I nod and laugh and cry.
“And, you know, Astrid, it is dangerous here. There are lots of things that happen here that we never had to deal with at home.”
“Like malaria,” I say.
“And biting ants.”
“And soldiers.”
“Soldiers. Yes. Things are still unsettled here. We need to look out for each other,” she says.
“I know.” I pause, and she opens a tube of cream and rubs something onto the scrape on my arm. I yank my arm back at the sting, but she takes it back and says, “Coral scrapes fester easily” and keeps rubbing, so I clench my teeth and let her do it. When she's done, I say, “Mom, are we going to leave?”
“We're here for the day, honey. I don't think a little scrape means we should leave, but you should probably stay out of the water.”
“I mean, are we going to leave Ghana?”
She screws the lid back onto the tube of cream before she answers. “Not yet,” she says.
Thema and her mom join us, and her mom says, “Would you two girls do me a favor? If I give you some money, can you two go buy some sun-spots in the village?”
“Sure,” says Thema. Piper stands up and reaches out for me to pick her up.
“Can we take Piper, Mom? I promise I'll be extra careful.”
Mom frowns, but then Mrs. Ampofo says, “Joanne, you and I could sneak in for a little swim if the girls take Piper.”
Mom twists a strand of her hair, but then smiles and says, “Okay, yes. As long as you are extra careful with her, and don't let anyone touch her, orâ”
I cut her off. “I know, Mom. I will be super extra careful.”
“Okay.” She gives me a small bundle of cedis. I take Piper by the hand, and she and Thema and I head toward the village.
“Your mom seems a lot better,” says Thema.
“Yeah. She is.”
“I'm sorry about Thomas leaving,” she says.
“Me too.”
We walk in silence for a while, and then Thema sings a highlife song I don't know, and I pick Piper up and we dance along with Thema as we make our way down the beach. I glance back at Mom; she's laughing with Mrs. Ampofo. Dad and Gordo are still playing on their bodyboards. Piper sings along with Thema.
It's hard to believe, after everything we've been through, but everyone seems happy today.
Including me.
None of the people in this story are real except for Jerry Rawlings. Amazing as it may seem, he really did attempt a coup, go to jail, get sentenced, then get released by some of his comrades and lead another coup. That time he was successful. Here's what happened.
On May 15, 1979, less than five weeks before elections were to be held in Ghana, Flight Lieutenant Jerry Rawlings and some other junior military officers tried to take over the government of Ghana. They were not successful, and Rawlings was put in jail. A few days later, he was tried, and he gave a speech at his trial that was broadcast over the radio to the whole country. Many people who listened to that speech were inspired by Rawlings because he talked about ending the corruption that was rampant in the government and the country.
Rawlings was sentenced to be executed, and most people thought that was the end. But on June 4, 1979, some of Rawlings's friends in the army broke into the jail and released him, because they had heard his speech and thought he could help them end the corruption they saw around them. Together, they staged a coup. They started by taking over Broadcast House, where the national radio station was, and then took over other government buildings until they were in control. Within several hours, there was a new government.
Over the next weeks, there were a lot of soldiers in the streets, some of whom were violent toward civilians, and many of the women working in the markets were harassed or even beaten because they were accused of “hoarding” goods. Many of the wealthy businessmen were sent to jail, also because they were thought to be hoarders. This was a difficult time for Ghanaians.
Rawlings ruled Ghana (with only a few short breaks) until 2001. When I was doing research for this book, I found that many Ghanaians were happy with Rawlings as a ruler, but just about as many were not. Today, Ghana has a democratically elected leader.
A book like this cannot be completed without help from other people who remember more (and more accurately) than I do. First, I'd like to thank my mum for never, ever being like the mother in this story (even when she learned of the snake's nest in the garden). My dad remained calm under stress and always answered my questions, and my brother, Bruce, always knew how to have fun. Their combined memories helped me shape this book.
The unflagging support of the Wildwood writers, most particularly Laurie Elmquist, who is unflinching in telling me the truth about my writing, is most certainly the reason I'm still a writer today. I shudder to think what this book would have looked like without the guidance of Sarah Harvey, my editor at Orca. And lastly, for their ability to love me even when I'm deep in a story, I thank my husband, Michael Pardy, and my son, Rowan Jones-Pardy. Where would I be in life without the two of you?
KARI JONES
spent her youth traveling around the world. She was fortunate enough to spend some years in Ghana when she was in her early teens. Kari now lives and writes in Victoria, British Columbia. For more information, visit
www.karijones.ca
.