The morning was very beautiful. It seemed as if every natural object in and around the village had kept vigil too. So they too were tired. I was tired too. I had gone to bed at about five o’clock in the morning and since it was a Saturday I could have a long sleep. At ten o’clock, I was suddenly roused from sleep by shouting. I opened my window but I could not see the speakers. Presently Kweku Sam, one of the young men in the village, came past my window. ‘Good morning, Chicha.’ He shouted his greeting to me.

‘Good morning, Kweku,’ I responded. ‘What is the shouting about?’

‘They are quarrelling.’

‘And what are they quarrelling about now?’

‘Each is accusing the other of having been responsible for the boy’s death.’

‘How?’

‘Chicha, I don’t know. Only women make too much trouble for themselves. It seems as if they are never content to sit quiet but they must always hurl abuse at each other. What has happened is too serious to be a subject for quarrels. Perhaps the village has displeased the gods in some unknown way and that is why they have taken away this boy.’ He sighed. I could not say anything to that. I could not explain it myself, and if the villagers believed there was something more in Kwesi’s death than the ordinary human mind could explain, who was I to argue?

‘Is Maami Ama herself there?’

‘No, I have not seen her there.’

He was quiet and I was quiet.

‘Chicha, I think I should go away now. I have just heard that my sister has given birth to a girl.’

‘So,’ I smiled to myself. ‘Give her my congratulations and tell her I will come to see her tomorrow.’

‘Yoo.’