SAVED BY GRACE

WHERE IT BEGINS

I have been here before.

It was the same concrete kissing my cheek. It was the same west traveling whispering ghost with strong words for the trees and tight hugs for the girl who tempted him with her silk cotton nightwear. I didn't mind him taking time to leave, I could only care for how longer my eyes would remain shut.

Today also, he had dragged that screaming woman along. Sometimes she would cry and muffle some few words. Silently, I knew it was her words which rattled the trees but giving credit to the winds was soothing.

There were chanting men out there, their distant echoes filling the air, and in a moment the night's aggressive hug abandoned me whilst cries of an angry mob drew nearer. Before coming to the realization of how differently things were playing out today, a sound slap had resounded in my ear.

"Jesus!"

My scream wasn't going to save me, neither my bruised lips from the impact of that. My head was a whirl wind and before I could process what was happening in my bedroom someone dragged me into reality.

They were right, there wasn't time to process this.

Some of the locals will hurdle me. They must seize a one time opportunity to squeeze some buttocks and breasts before they had met their obvious fate. Others genuinely protected me against the prejudice locals. Maybe this could be explained and they wanted to hear it.

"A nice young woman practicing witchcraft! We should beat her up!"

"Your cup is full," from a hundred other unkindness being thrown at me in the Twi, Ga and Ewe dialects.

"A witch who mentions the name of Jesus? Come on people! Let's calm down and find out what is truly going on here!"

"These demons know Jesus better than some of us."

"Alright then, we will take her to the police station."

"Does the police arrest witches?"

"We will make sure the police hand her over to a pastor or a mallam. The bible and qu'ran do not tell us to kill witches. Besides it is a crime to take human life."

The inspector's pitiful face was pitiful. The mob had been merciless to me all the way here that my body wouldn't respond to the warm jacket one of the female officers had offered. She was kind enough to serve me some kooko and koose while we waited for the fine gentleman sitting across me.

After scrutinizing the damage on my face and skin he pointed at my cold breakfast.

"If you don't eat I cannot ask you any questions."

"I am not hungry."

He didn't have to conceal the surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Your strong voice doesn't mean a strong mind or body, not after... not after that."

"Try me."

"Your name?"

"Grace. Grace Akyaa Amponsah," because my voice broke while I said my name the inspector looked up at me like he was winning; "It happens every time I say my name."

"Are you from town?"

"I reside in Kwabenya."

"Alone?"

"No, with both parents. And a brother."

"Do you have friends here?"

"I told you I reside in Kwabenya, of course I have friends here."

His pen did the clap back.

"What's the last thing you remember before waking up on the grave?"

They woke me.

Before, he ignored my silence. Must have thought it was my attitude showing again.

"My food is cold. Can you warm it up for me please?"

I wasn't avoiding the question, only had to choose my words carefully, especially now that he was jotting down something and perhaps fixing my gaze on these peeling walls would help. While I listened for the humming microwave oven over the table top fridge, the inspector stood by waiting for two minutes to pass like any man watching his wife apply makeup before stepping out of the house.

Almost everything in here felt a white marker with a few exceptions like the empty gel glade air freshener by the side of the wall. It did justice to the 2.75m rectangular space. A picture of a smiling president and the DCE giving a speech at a ceremony hang side by side behind his rather clean desk with the president's fighting for attention. I angled on the trash can. The cleaner was early.

I cannot explain my body snapping when the beep came.

The pains were detailed now that I had to move my arms and upper body after forty-five minutes of still. Being a trained paramedic before tertiary school opening her door to me, I located my fractures easily.

"Does the swallow hurt?"

It wasn't as if he expected anything less of the lie I told.

"Well that was fast! You are a star Grace!" buried in his Infinix phone.

"I can't say I am surprised. I shine everywhere I go."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"How did you end up on the grave?"

"Some people put me there. I thought it was a dream until the mob had woke me up."

"Do you remember who they were? Friends probably, right?"

Feeling a sense of pride in his prejudice because of the way I shifted, leaving me with an only option of wrapping the unnecessary leftovers of my meal in the black polythene bag, creating a spot on the table instead of the trash can. He did the right thing.

Now that he was back to his original position - on the edge of his table, his perfume came back to me. And I wasn't sure why I had flinched.

He repeated the question going on to press his pen against his note book ever ready as the recorders in a court room.

"I don't remember who they were but they didn't feel like my friends."

"Feel like your friends? How do your friends feel like?"

If there was anything that wouldn't change about the Ghana Police Service, it was their professional unprofessionalism.

"I'm sorry that chuckle came out wrong."

"Its fine. But I think I know them. They're just not friends."

"You need to remember. They found juju pots around you that is what had sent them into a rage. Why else would they attack you? You could have been a regular mad person roaming on our streets, but for that."

"They saw what?!"

"Do you want me to read the article to you, or you'd rather one of my men outside come and confirm what the mob testified when you were brought in? I shouldn't say this but you're lucky you weren't lynched."

Yes. Yes I was lucky I wasn't lynched. The magnitude of my sin hit me in the chair and kept rising until I couldn't handle it any longer.

"Can I make a phone call please?"