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it was that the Regional Survey Department had a budget meeting every morning of every week. Without saying another word, she picked up her handbag and her basket, and went to sit in the car. After elaborately checking on the tyres and the water level, Kubi went to sit in the driving seat. During the four good kilometres’ journey from Sweet Breezes Hill to the city’s main and general hospital, they did not speak to one another. Another of the patterns of the mornings when she lost the car. Since she refused to start a conversation, and he was sure she would not even join in if he did, they both kept quiet.
    When he parked by the hospital gate, he asked a little guiltily, ‘We’ll meet in the house this evening?’
    â€˜No,’ she snapped back, ‘I shall not come home with the hospital van. I’ll find my way to your sister’s anyway.’
    â€˜Shall I come and get you from there then?’
    â€˜You don’t have to bother,’ she said again, barely managing to suppress her fury. ‘You know it’s too far out. And you should be feeling tired if it’s going to be one of your exhausting meetings.’ ‘So how are you going to get back home?’ said Kubi, genuine concern joining guilt, and neither escaping Opokuya’s notice.
    â€˜I could come into town with the bus, and wait at the Hotel Twentieth Century for you
    â€˜Okay,’ said Kubi. He hated having to stop in town after work. But he was aware that he had to make some concessions.
    â€˜From about half past five,’ Opokuya reminded him. They both knew what she was talking about.
    Opokuya was already out of the car. In fact, the last bit of the exchange was done with her holding the door of the car, ready to bang it shut. She now shut it and turned to walk towards the hospital. Kubi reversed left, turned right to face the road and then turned right again. He was on his way to work. Whistling, of course.

        4
    How people described the stature of Ali Kondey depended entirely on where they stood in relation to the Gulf of Guinea. Right on the coast and in the forest regions he was considered tall. In the sparse grasslands of the middle belt, they thought of his height as ‘medium’. In the upper regions and Sub-Sahel, he was seen as not being so tall. In fact, in such areas some could say he was short. But there was no such doubt anywhere about his skin. It was smooth and black, and not a layer of fat between that skin and his flesh. His teeth, which he occasionally, deliberately and fashionably discoloured by chewing kola, were beautifully even and white. He wore kohl around his eyes, moved like a panther, and was very good looking. He knew all this himself, including the fact that he was the most effective advertisement for Linga Hide A ways, the travel and tourist agency he had established soon after his country became independent.
    All’s country? Which one was that?
    Ali was a son of the world. He had dropped out of his mother’s womb absolutely determined to come and live this life. As his other mothers on both sides of his family would later let him know whenever they had the chance, the burden of bringing him into this world had been too much for his mother. Poor Fatimatu.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  ‘Was she not fifteen when Ali was born?’
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  ‘That was all she was.’
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  ‘Then how could she have lived?’
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  ‘She could not live. She did not live.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I saw it all. She looked at the baby Ali very well.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  You would have thought she just wanted to be sure that everything was fine with