Total Eclipse of the Heart and Partially the Sun

On Sunday it was good to do nothing. I woke at 5:00am and wrote and wrote. At 11:00 I could take my medicine. At 1:30 we sat together in Mummy’s courtyard and through special glasses watched the moon slowly, slowly, eclipse the sun.

It was like the rays had the same strength as before but there were fewer of them and the courtyard became dimmer and dimmer. The orange segment moved from the right to the bottom to the left top corner, almost disappearing but then coming back a full burning orb, enlightening the earth below once again. Isaac had said that, “after the moon and the sun make love, the earth becomes very hot”.

At 3:00 Isaac came to take me to meet Frank and collect my wood carving. I was impressed, it was well cut and had a nice glossy black finish, and the sides were tinged red which made it more striking. It was up to date too, with the separation of South Sudan marked on. We went to the ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) trade centre, with stalls selling crafts from all across West Africa. Frank was still sizing me up for marriage. He wanted to know if I drank alcohol or smoked cigarettes.

Not really looking to buy, we retired after two market blocks to a café with plastic tables and chairs outside and ordered goat kebabs and Coca-Cola. After chatting for some time, Isaac conveniently had to go off somewhere to get something.

“So”, Frank began, “When are you going to come and visit me in Abury”?
I had to let him down gently. He sank deeper into his chair than I thought possible and stared hard at the market stands. The look of utter deflation was grander than I could bear to witness. I didn’t know what dreams and fabrications had been combusting, but they were vast and deep. Somehow the key to my heart admitted entrance to a fan of longings. His eyes drooped, his lips quivered; he sighed and wouldn’t talk, and stared at something far away.

He couldn’t be serious, how could he be serious? And where was Isaac? Slightly annoyed and overwhelmed by the drama and responsibility, I began, “You don’t even know me, we met once for 20 minutes. For some reason you want a white girl”.
“No”, he said. “I don’t care about the colour of your skin; it’s because when I see you I feel it in my heart”.
“Would you still love me if I was blue?”

I regretted it. Somehow, somehow, the feeling was genuine and I was mocking him. Were those tears?

The heart was totally eclipsed and I had to face the facts: I had made two boys cry in one weekend.

Isaac came back and I paid for the goat kebabs and the drinks, and we drove Frank to the bus station. He was so forlorn he forgot to say goodbye to Isaac. He rang Isaac in the car on the way home to apologise and say thank you. When I got home, I discovered Kati was back from Kumasi, and the prospect of female company seemed to make the sun linger in the sky a little longer.