Slip

Wow I have so much to say. Boy have I got some crazy stories. I'll tell you just one.

So last Sunday it rained all day. I went to church with one of my friends (let's call her S) in the morning. Afterwards, I went back home to eat lunch with the other volunteers. It was my favorite: rice ball with peanut butter soup and chicken.

As soon as I finished eating, though, S peered into the kitchen. Then, she came running in, looked out the window, and screamed, "Emily, please, you have to come with me!" She pulled me past everyone else and kept screaming, "Hurry, Hurry!" She pulled me away so fast I didn't even have time to grab shoes.

At first I thought it was a game, but soon I realized that she was actually terrified. She frantically explained, "The light pole is on fire! My sister is calling me!" That's when I heard an explosion and smelled smoke. I thought that I had to help put out a fire.

We, and many other women and children, were sprinting through the village, through the bushes and litter and sewage. S turned to me and asked, "Do you have any money?" I thought that was strange. Money won't put out a fire.

I said no and she said that we would have to take a cab to get out of Eguafo. I knew that I shouldn't get in the cab, but S looked so scared and so desperate (plus she was screaming at me me to get in) that I climbed on to someone's lap and off we went, seven of us.

By this point I was absolutely terrified. I didn't have my phone, any money, or shoes on. Everyone in the cab could see that I was scared. The guy in the front turned to me and said, "Do you believe in Jehovah?"

(Huh?) "Um, yes."

"That's why we're here."

Which is when I realized that everyone in the cab had been at the Jehovah's Witness church that morning. I asked S where we were going.

"Elmina." (The next town over.)

"For how long?"

"Until it's safe."

What??? I thought, 'I might be stuck in Elmina for days!'

As soon as everybody got out, I turned to the driver and said, "I need to get back to Eguafo."

He agreed to take me, while the others watched me go, all blank and stoney faced. Along the way, a gas pump attendant asked for my phone number, a man sat unnecessarily close to me while attacking me about America, "Why is it that you Americans are always in my country, but we Ghanaians can never go there? Are you afraid we'll take all your resources?"

"What???"

and just to make matters worse, the driver told me to sit up front, so he could stroke my hand, tell me he loved me, touch my cheek and ask for my number. Probably the last thing I needed at that point.

When we finally got back to Eguafo, I told the driver that I needed to go to my house to get the fare, and that I would be right back.

He more than doubled the fare, (5 cedis instead of 2), but at that point I just didn't care. I was just trying to hold myself together. Don't cry don't cry don't cry.

It was still raining as I got out of the cab, and I saw that pretty much the entire village was huddled under a few roofs. And all eyes were on me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, keeping my dignity, until I slipped on the mud road in my bare feet, skidding forward.

Every single person in the village burst out laughing. And then I knew it would happen. As soon as the volunteer house came into view, the tears came rolling down. Kids started swarming me.

"Is someone dead???" and the cook grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go until I told her, "I just need to pay 5 cedis to the driver."

D and M (two of the volunteers) came with me, along with the cook and a big group of kids. As we reached the main road, I could still feel everyone staring at me and could hear them snickering.

I handed the money to the driver, and the cook and the kids start interrogating and yelling at him in Fante.

When he told them where he had driven me, D shouted "Hey, it's not 5 cedis!"

At that point the driver decided to get the heck out of Egaufo, so he started to turn around. Next thing I know, he's backing straight into us, his car even touched my legs, just inches away from running me, D, and all the children behind us over.

D slammed his fist on the back of the windshield, then finally the cab took off. The cook took my wrist again as we headed for home. I wasn't going to look anybody in the eye until I heard someone say something very strange.

"You should lash her."

(Who even is this guy? I've never seen him before.)

"I'll lash you!" D cried.

The man started.

The man recovered. "You should lash her because she's afraid of fire. That's why she ran away."

That made me really mad. "I ran away to help my friend!"

"Yeah, you saved her life," he retorted.

The cook pulled me away, then stopped at another large group of people, speaking Fante with them. When I finally dared to look up at them, I saw the head of the orphanage there. He took me by the shoulders and told me to go sit at the children's center until I calmed down. I did, and I did calm down.

I walked back to the house and helped four-year old little F put his bracelet on, during which time he informed me that I was afraid of fire. That's right: a four-year old.

Anyway everything turned out ok. S and her friends came back to Eguafo, a little shaken up, but fine. The other volunteers and I played soccer at the center with the kids. It was super rainy and muddy so it was challenging but fun. And, everyone was slipping and everyone was laughing. But this time, in a good way.

Yoo, yen ko!

Emily