King Peggy Read online

  Soon a few people from the surrounding houses came ambling up to the palace, carting plastic chairs from their homes. This was their first opportunity to see their new lady king.

  “Is this all there is?” Peggy whispered to Kwame Lumpopo. “Does the town know I have arrived and am holding a meeting this morning? ”

  He nodded. “We had the town crier put the word out yesterday. But not many came to your uncle’s meetings, either. Your people are very busy.”

  Peggy frowned. Her people were too busy to meet the new king? They had nothing to say to her, to ask her?

  Tsiami stood and cried, “Nana, wonfreye!” a plea to the ancestors which meant “Let us call all good things to come to us.”

  Those gathered responded with, “Yemrah!” Let the good things come!

  When this ritual opening prayer had been completed three times, Tsiami announced that he would pour libations in the stool room as an offering of thanks for their new king’s safe journey from so far away.

  Tsiami cried, “Kokoko!” as he unlocked and opened the palace door, approached the stool room door, and knocked loudly. In Ghana, as in much of Africa, visitors cry out “Kokoko!” as they near a house because it is only polite to let people know when you are visiting so you don’t frighten them or catch them doing something private. The ancestors in the stools, too, needed to be made aware they had visitors. Perhaps they were sleeping inside the stools, or had traveled elsewhere on some business. The cry would tell them to rouse themselves, or return, to hear what the elders had to say to them.

  The stool room was a closet-sized windowless chamber next to the staircase. Tsiami opened the door a couple of inches. That way, the ancestors could see those gathered outside if they wanted to, but the worshippers couldn’t see the stools, as they were too holy for most people to observe.

  “We are here!” cried Tsiami. “We are with the new king whom you have chosen when you made the schnapps steam up. Nana Amuah Afenyi VI is here. She thanks you for your blessings and for her safe journey home. We, the people of Otuam, thank you for choosing her.”

  The elders cried, “Kwa! Kwa!” and “Ampah!” which meant something like “Amen” or “That’s right!” Tsiami cautiously opened the stool room door and slipped inside, leaving it slightly ajar. He then removed the goatskins covering the stools and poured an entire bottle of schnapps over them in long splashes while he cried and chanted. When the libation ceremony was over, Tsiami replaced the goatskins and closed and locked the stool room door.

  Emerging onto the patio, he stood beside Peggy and asked the five townspeople—four men and a woman—if they had anything they wished to say to the king. They shook their heads. “This meeting is now over!” Tsiami said. The attendees picked up their chairs and took them back inside their tiny houses. Peggy had to admit the turnout was unsatisfying, and those few who had attended seemed to have done so out of curiosity or boredom. She had hoped for a larger turnout, had imagined people talking about their problems and asking for her advice and help.

  Peggy had let her elders know that after the libation rituals and town meeting she wanted to inspect the palace to see what renovations were required. As she walked around the outside of the entire palace, a smiling Nana Kwesi beside her and her elders following, she saw more broken windows, missing chunks of plaster, and long streaks of mildew. When they entered the building, Peggy groaned out loud. The leaky roof and shattered windows had damaged the interior walls as well, and water had poured into the stool room, desecrating it. Peggy silently promised the stools that she would fix the leaks as soon as she possibly could and prayed for them to have patience.

  Paint and plaster had fallen onto the floors, exposing pipes and wiring. Birds nested in several of the rooms, their feathers and excrement coating the floors. The kitchen appliances were rusted and disgusting. The doors didn’t open or close properly. It was clear the whole place would have to be gutted. New wiring; new plumbing for a new rain tank on the roof; new windows and doors; a new kitchen and bathrooms; new walls, ceilings, and floors.

  The condition of the palace wasn’t anything surprising to her elders, especially Uncle Moses, who lived in the two best rooms on the first floor, rooms he kept tidy but filled with buckets to catch the leaks when it rained. Nor was it shocking to Auntie Esi, who lived in Otuam, or Kwame Lumpopo, who visited frequently. These people now adroitly stepped over bird feces as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do in a royal palace, and chatted with one another as if they were seeing nothing unusual. But coming from Tema, Cousin Comfort hadn’t been inside for at least a decade, and now her initial optimism seemed deflated. She kicked an old bird’s nest out of the way and clucked in disapproval, her manicured hands on her hips.

  Isaiah the Treasurer, seeing Peggy’s shock and disgust, sauntered up to her and said, “Well, Nana, I suppose it does need a new coat of paint.”

  New coat of paint?

  Silently, Peggy asked the late king who was in the fridge, How could you have lived like this? How could you have left such a mess for me? I can’t live here. I have to have the whole thing completely renovated before I spend an hour here. And how much will that cost? Tens of thousands of dollars, I suppose. As it is, I can hardly keep up with my mortgage and condo fees. How am I going to restore the royal palace for your funeral? She was suddenly afraid she would burst into tears in front of her council members.

  Ebotum aye! said the voice. You can do it!

  Peggy looked around. Where had that come from? She hadn’t heard the voice since the day she accepted the kingship when she was driving through Rock Creek Park. But here it was again.

  Just then Nana Kwesi approached her. “I know you want to renovate the royal palace, Nana,” he said. “I have been a building contractor for many years. I have designed and built many of the new mansions in Winneba. I can help you with the work, especially since, with the economy getting so bad, there has been less work for me lately. As a family member, I won’t charge much profit on the work and can do it much more cheaply than any other contractor.”

  That was wonderful news. Perhaps the ancestors had sent Peggy this kind, generous building contractor to help her renovate the royal palace. “Really?” she said, beaming. Then, nervously, she asked, “How much do you think it might cost? ”

  Nana Kwesi beckoned her to follow him upstairs, and Cousin Comfort joined them as they walked silently from room to room. In the king’s bathroom, Peggy saw a blackened, filth-encrusted toilet, sink, and bathtub so nasty that she ran out of the room in horror.

  Chuckling, Nana Kwesi joined her in the hallway and turned to her with his angelic smile. “Obviously, the bathroom needs a lot of work,” he said. “But the first thing to do is to put on a new tin roof. That will prevent further water damage.”

  Peggy nodded. At all costs, the stool room must be kept dry. “And then we can take repairs one step at a time, as you get money,” Nana Kwesi continued. “Don’t worry, Nana. This will be a beautiful place.”

  Peggy looked around at the exposed wires and rusty pipes where the walls should have been, the fallen ceilings, and the bird feces on the floor. A bird, or was it a bat, was zooming down the corridor looking for a broken window to exit. A beautiful place, she repeated. One step at a time.

  Ekow had silently followed them upstairs, and now he was flapping spastically through the rooms as if he, too, were a bird trapped inside. Echoing her thoughts, he squawked, “Beautiful place! One step at a time!” like a parrot. Then he stood stock still, started to sob, and walked morosely from the room.

  Peggy sighed. What on earth was she going to do with Ekow if he acted up, as the aunties warned her he would? As king, she was expected to be strong with misbehaving relatives. But she was also supposed to be compassionate toward the ill and weak-minded. She was further confused by her contradictory feelings toward Ekow. She pitied him, wanted to throw her arms around him and protect him for her dead sister’s sake, but most of all, she just wanted him to go a
way.

  Her eyes fell on Nana Kwesi, whose gaze had followed Ekow into the next room. Maybe he was right that the palace could be beautiful. Looking beyond the damaged surface, Peggy could see that the rooms were large and airy. Upstairs, the four bedrooms faced the ocean, a sparkling sapphire blue beyond the green trees, and a cool, fresh breeze danced in through the wide broken windows. She walked to a window and gazed at the view of utter serenity, Cousin Comfort close beside her.

  “I will send money for you to start the roof as soon as I go home and get my next paycheck,” Peggy promised, wondering what she would use for her condo fee and credit cards. She had put off these bills, paying instead for her ticket to Ghana, which had indeed cost her almost fifteen hundred dollars, and wiring Kwame Lumpopo the eight hundred dollars to settle the debt of the late king who was in the fridge. She had planned to pay her regular bills when she arrived home, but now she would have to start saving money for the palace repairs.

  Nana Kwesi seemed to be considering something and looked as if he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if he should. He opened his mouth and closed it; he rubbed his forehead and sighed. Finally, he said, very quietly, “I know this isn’t my town, Nana, but don’t you think there should be some public funds available to help you pay for the palace repairs and the town’s other needs? I know a bit about Otuam because I’ve come here from time to time for family events, and there is much to do—the water, the schools, the clinic, the road. I feel so sorry for the children here. Yet how can you do everything by yourself? ”

  Peggy had been asking herself that same question ever since that four a.m. phone call. Now she looked around for her elders and was glad to see they weren’t nearby. “Isaiah the Treasurer tells me there’s no money at all, that the town is too poor. I have to pay for my own enstoolment party out of money I brought with me from Washington.”

  Nana Kwesi frowned. “Then why do they call him the treasurer? ”

  Peggy nodded. “I wondered the same thing.”

  Nana Kwesi rubbed his cheek and said, “There must be taxes of some kind, don’t you think? An annual real estate tax, perhaps? I think that every landowner in Ghana has to pay a small tax on his land. And what about land sales? All the land belongs to the stool, I know—that’s true in towns and villages across the country. So when someone wants to buy undeveloped land, to clear a farm or build a house in the bush, they have to pay the king. Who’s been selling the land and pocketing the money since your uncle had the stroke in January? ”

  Peggy was startled to hear him spell it out this way. “I have no idea. I’ll ask my elders.”

  Nana Kwesi shook his head. “Before you bring up the subject of finances again to your elders, we should do a bit of research. As king, you can’t very well stroll down Main Street talking to merchants, or amble down to the fishing beach and interview the fishermen. People in small towns are usually very friendly and talkative, eager to speak to strangers. Let me poke around and see what I can come up with.”

  Peggy felt a surge of gratitude. She suddenly had an idea of her own. It was her duty as king to appoint new elders, and a younger man like Nana Kwesi, educated, with his own business in a major city, would surely prove a welcome addition to the elderly illiterate farmers and fishermen who had sat on the council for decades.

  “Nana Kwesi,” she said, “I would like very much for you to join my council. I think it needs some fresh blood, younger people who are not set in their ways. I know you live in Winneba, and it’s an hour’s drive to Otuam, but Kwame Lumpopo lives all the way in Takoradi, four hours from here. He attends meetings on weekends or gives his advice by phone.”

  Cousin Comfort nodded encouragingly. “A wonderful idea,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” he demurred, suddenly looking away, and Peggy realized how shy he was, almost as shy as William had been. Nana Kwesi’s natural shyness had been coated by an attractive veneer of maturity, courtesy, and years of business dealings, but it was still there, all the same.

  “Of course, I’ll help the family however I can,” he said bashfully. “For instance, with the palace …”

  His modest refusal convinced Peggy that she had made the right choice. Here was no swaggering blowhard, seeking to puff up his own importance and his bank account, by joining a royal council. “You can help the family best by joining my council of elders, Nana Kwesi,” she said firmly. “I need you.”

  She hadn’t said that to a man in a very long time, and as soon as she did so, she regretted it. It dangled strangely between them. Would he say no?

  Nana Kwesi’s shining eyes latched on to Peggy’s and they both smiled. On the surface, she knew, she and Nana Kwesi weren’t alike. He was bashful; she was forceful. But there was a certain air of sadness that clung to him that reminded her of her own disappointments. She had heard that there were problems with his ex-wife, which made difficulties for the children. He had also mentioned that his business was down. Now she noticed that buried in the depths of his sweet smile was a touch of heartbreak.

  Nana Kwesi had mentioned the gut-wrenching needs of Otuam, a subject very dear to her heart. Perhaps working together they could—

  The moment, so full of possibilities, was shattered by a loud, unearthly howl from the next room. Ekow.

  One day slipped into the next, what with relatives dropping by, discussions about her enstoolment, and Peggy’s royal etiquette lessons. Kwame Lumpopo asked her for money every day to go to Main Street to buy tomatoes, eggs, bread, and drinks; townsfolk usually dropped off gifts of fish every afternoon, so at least Peggy didn’t have to buy much of that. Every time Peggy heard the porch gate banging, she hoped that William would walk into the house, smiling and congratulating her. But as many times as the clanging gate heralded visitors, none of them was William. Perhaps he was waiting to come for her enstoolment.

  But one day there were female cries of Kokoko! outside the screen door and three women tumbled in, one behind the other like boulders. Peggy had been sitting at the dining room table, sipping Coke with Auntie Esi, who, taking one look at the women, rolled her eyes and said, “The late king’s daughters, the ones who live in Accra. I met them once before, years ago.”

  Perpetual, Mary Magdalene, and Dorcas were obviously sisters and might well have been mistaken for triplets: large women of indeterminate age, with chubby faces and round features, though Perpetual wore big round glasses. They all wore African dresses and matching head wraps, bangle earrings and large clattering necklaces and bracelets.

  Peggy had never met these cousins before as they hadn’t attended any of the family events in Otuam where she had been present, and her mother had told her that they hadn’t visited their father in many years. She was surprised that they had come all the way to Otuam to pay their respects.

  As they sipped Fantas and chatted, Peggy noticed that Perpetual, the oldest daughter, was the most talkative of the bunch, Dorcas agreed with everything Perpetual said, and Mary Magdalene sat silent as a stone.

  “We are so happy, Nana, that you are the new king,” Perpetual remarked. “To think, a woman! It is really wonderful.”

  “Really wonderful,” Dorcas said. Mary Magdalene said nothing.

  “She will be a very strong king,” Auntie Esi snapped. “I think Nana will surprise anyone who tries to take advantage of her.”

  Perpetual ignored this and addressed herself to Peggy. “We don’t want to wait long for our father’s funeral,” she said. “When do you think you will have it? ”

  “Because we can’t wait long,” Dorcas said. Mary Magdalene said nothing.

  Peggy coughed. “I will have it as soon as I can,” she said. “I understand your concern that your father is there in the morgue, and it must be cold for him. I, too, want him to be at peace as soon as possible. But it takes a lot of time and money to organize a royal funeral, so I am asking you for patience.”

  “We don’t need a huge royal funeral,” Perpetual said. “We just want him to find his rest
soon.”

  “Very soon,” Dorcas said. Peggy began to wonder if Mary Magdalene was mute.

  “A king’s funeral can’t be rushed,” Auntie Esi said, staring hard at Perpetual. “It must be done with dignity.” She said the last word slowly, loudly. Through her large glasses, Perpetual glared at her.

  “You are both right,” Peggy said, trying to smooth over the uncomfortable moment. “Believe me, my uncle’s rest is something that weighs heavily on my mind, but I must also ensure that he has a truly dignified funeral.”

  After they said their good-byes, Peggy asked Auntie Esi, “What was that between you just now? ”

  Auntie Esi sniffed. “They haven’t been here to see their father in a long time, Nana, not even when he was very sick. Not even when he was in the hospital slowly dying all those months, begging them to come to him, and they lived right up the road. Now that he’s gone, suddenly they’ve made the trip all the way out here, saying they’re concerned about his burial, and it doesn’t ring true, somehow.”

  Sighing deeply she continued, “Part of me feels sorry for the children that they were. Joseph couldn’t keep away from women and ran from one to the next like a honeybee to flowers, leaving his own kids to fend for themselves.

  “This behavior nourished their hatred and resentment of him,” Auntie Esi went on, “fed it, fattened it. But they have been adults for a very long time and should let it go. Joseph was a good man who loved them despite his weakness for women. Their retaliation was successful because they broke his heart. Can you see him, waiting in the hospital for months, calling, hoping? And not one of them ever called, ever came to see him. Don’t trust any of the children of the late king. There is a terrible hatred there, one that, I fear, has followed Joseph into death.”

  Followed him into death? That seemed a bit melodramatic. Perhaps the daughters felt guilty that they hadn’t gone to the hospital to forgive him and hoped to make amends by seeing him at peace in his grave sooner rather than later. Auntie Esi was clearly wrong about undying resentment. Peggy was greatly relieved that they had called on her after all those stories she had heard about them, and perhaps at their next meeting she could raise the idea of their sharing the funeral expenses.