There was a big, noisy machine beside his bed with tiny tubes plugged into it that ran like worms into his arm and chest. He looked as if a scientist were carrying out an experiment on him. I stared curiously at all these things that had pierced into his skin, wondering if it hurt. I ran my fingers over the tubes, and then, turned to the noisy machine and its incessant beeping, I squeezed on one of the tubes. I let go, afraid it might burst open and spill out all the liquid in it. Noticing my discomfort, my dad rubbed my head, and assured me that he would be home soon.

My mother was watching with a smile on her face. She had prepared my father’s favourite dish of peanut soup with large chunks of meat. My father pulled her closer, but he did not eat. Instead, he held onto my mother’s hand and they spoke while I played with Abena. I heard my father assuring my mother that life would be fine and that he would return to his station on Eagle Marine Fleet soon. But my mother sat beside him muttering words I could not make out. And then they stared at each other, quietly as her smile wore off and silence filled the room. She looked uneasy and her eyes fell to the ground. Soon Dr. Boateng entered the room. He adjusted the tubes on my father’s arm and I drew closer, observing him, wondering how his own particular super powers would cure my dad. When the doctor completed his inspection, I tugged on his white coat and asked if my father might come home the following day. My mother gestured at me to be quiet.

Dr. Boateng did not respond, and when I asked again, all he said was, “Young chap; we are working hard to get your dad back to you. Okay?”

When he left, I scooted closer to my father. I took his hand. He did not look at me. He exhaled as if a stone lay on his chest.

The month of June was the longest of my life. Permission slips for the Asafotu Festival piled up on my teacher’s desk. Afi and Kwesi stayed behind after class to construct their kites. Even though I wanted to join them, I had to go home and take care of my sister. I tossed in bed long after I put Abena to sleep. Sometimes, I’d sit up in bed and listen to Uncle Kumi, who often stayed behind after dropping my mom home from the hospital. He spoke in a low voice.

One night, I listened carefully, only to hear my uncle say that my father must be transferred: “They must take him to Federal Hospital.”

My stomach twisted and ground inside of me all night. I stayed awake, too afraid to close my eyes. I wondered what would happen to my father. Why were they taking him away? In the morning, my mother did not speak as she got us ready for school. Her eyes were full of worry. She was in the middle of a day dream, leaning against the kitchen sink, hands in the water, until the sound of Auntie Cece yelling at Ama broke her reverie.