Changes

By Kofi Quaye

CHANGES is the story of a family in crisis; it is the story of an immigrant family trying to cope with life in urban America, about the trauma that cross-cultural conflicts bring, the pressure to conform or do your own thing, against the backdrop of todays America. In order to integrate into the mainstream, or for that matter, pursue the American Dream, can an immigrant family maintain their identity, their native lifestyle, in the turbulent ambiance of urban America or do they succumb to its pressures and change their lifestyle altogether?
These are the fundamental questions that most immigrants face, and have to deal with. Many succeed; others fail, while a few just hang in there. The main characters are Ebo, the husband and father; Christina, the wife and mother, and Chris and Lisa, two teenage kids, aged sixteen and eighteen.
In the face of overwhelming odds, Ebo tries to maintain control of the family, and tries to do it the only way he knows how; the old fashioned way. Along the way, he runs into a few characters that expose him to some of the diversity on the American social, cultural and political landscape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 17, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465330420

Kofi Quaye

General Davis is a former gang member, motivational speaker, advocate and expert on gang and youth violence. He has dedicated himself to working with at risk youth and young adults. He makes presentations in colleges, high schools, churches and communities all over the country on youth violence and gang prevention and related topics. His website- www.generaldavis.com- contains information on how he can be contacted. Contact info is-315-876-4577. His email [e-mail] Kofi Quaye is originally from Ghana in West Africa. He resides in Syracuse and has been actively involved in the media as a journalist, editor and publisher. He was already an established author before arriving in America having written a series of crime and mystery novels, which made him one of the first African writers to write about urban life and crime in Africa. His books include JOJO IN NEW YORK, FOLI FIGHTS THE FORGERS (Macmillan, England,) SAMMY SLAMS THE GANG (Moxon Paperbacks Ltd, Accra, Ghana,] NO DEAL, (Heritage Communications, Syracuse, NY.] SUPERSTAR [Mysteek Books] CHANGES [Mysteek Books]. Since the late seventies, Kofi Quaye has edited newspapers and magazines and contributed articles to leading publications including Essence Magazine and was recently the editor of Syracuse based CNY VISION weekly newspaper. Kofi Quaye’s contact info is: 315-516-2390. His website is-mysteekmedia.com. Email: [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE LANDING WAS smooth and British Airways Flight No 3786 taxied to a stop at the international arrivals terminal at JFK. Ebo Mensah went through customs and made his way to an open space and sat down.

Ebo, said the voice behind him.

He turned round, and his jaw dropped.

Is this Chris, my son?

He would not have recognized his son if he had been the first to spot him. The last time he saw Chris, he was about four feet tall. The young man standing in front of him stood well over six feet. He didn’t even look like a kid anymore: he had broad shoulders, brawny arms, sturdy strong legs, well-groomed mustache, and a headful of dreadlocks.

What a transformation. For a moment, father and son looked at each other, suddenly conscious of the change, the son almost as tall as the father, the change in him made manifest in his demeanor, and the way he carried himself, self-assured, assertive, aggressive, garbed in Nike gear from top to bottom, a son no longer a kid, at least, not looking like a kid.

"Wo ho tse den?" he asked.

Chris stared at him, his eyes narrowing, as though trying to figure out what he had just said.

"Me se wo ho tse den, I said how are you doing in Fante. What happened? You don’t understand Fante, your mother tongue any more? What’s going on?"

Chris was grinning now, and nodding his head.

I’m good, pops. Welcome to the United States of America.

He stepped forward, hand outstretched. Father and son shook hands. The grip was firm. It had everything in it, the momentary tightening of muscles and stiffening of bones, the pressure in the push and pull. He would have to find out soon. This kid has not come to be hugged and kissed; he had come to shake hands, like a man, a grown man.

"Wo maame ho tse den?" asked Ebo.

You mean my mom?

Yes, that’s what I said.

Ebo was edging toward a neutral ground. It was quite obvious by now that the kid was capable or interested only in carrying on a conversation in English, not in their native dialect, as he had assumed on the way here. It also meant that he would have to conduct his end of the conversation in Fante while his son responded in English. He had to make that decision now.

Clearly the choice would have to be English. He had no choice.

My mom, I don’t know about mom. I really don’t.

I don’t understand, Chris. What are you saying? I mean, where is she? The whole family is supposed to meet me.

Pops, all I can say is mom says she couldn’t make it.

Do you mean to tell me that I have come all this way and she is not here to receive me?

Come on pops, don’t start illin’. Something came up and she had to go. That’s all. And it’s not like there’s nobody here to get you. I’m here. What’s the big deal?

What is the big deal, Chris had asked.

Ebo took a deep breath, let it out and sat down. Too many things were happening at once. First, he had to deal with a son who appeared to have forgotten his native language, a son who had subtly challenged his manhood, a son who was calling him pops, and using words he didn’t understand, and now the news that his wife was not at the airport to welcome him.

Chris, where is your sister?

She is here.

Where is she? I don’t see her.

She is outside. She had to wait there for me to come and get you.

Why? She didn’t want to come in to see me?

Come on, pops. Lisa is here with me; she couldn’t come here because someone had to stay with the car while I came to get you.

I still don’t understand.

Pops, all we are doing is avoiding getting a ticket?

Ticket? Ticket to where?

Chris grinned. This was the first time he had heard anybody admit they didn’t know what a parking ticket was. What part of the world did he come from?

A parking ticket, pops. Out here at the airport, the police will give you a ticket in a minute. You know about tickets, don’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t know about tickets.

Ebo didn’t know what he was talking about. This was the first time he had heard about police giving tickets for parking. From the part of the world where he had just come from, the police monitored more important things than parking. You park anywhere you can find space and stay as long as you wish. The only thing you had to worry about was somebody hitting your car.

Alright Chris, we’ll talk about the tickets later. We need to get home, so I can talk to your mother and all of you. I have so much to tell.

Enough for now. Already there were many things he wanted to discuss with his wife. Chris was acting strangely; he seemed to be trying too hard to act like a grown man. Chris had shown him something that was completely new to him: a sixteen year old kid who not only talked back, but gave the impression that he wanted to take charge.

Chris led the way. No sooner had they emerged from the doors than a gleaming BMW pulled up to the curb, stopping beside them. The trunk popped open. Chris tossed the luggage in the trunk, slammed it shut and opened both the front and the back doors. He climbed in the front seat. Ebo got in the back seat and closed the door. The car shot out into traffic. Everything had happened so fast that he had not even had the time to look at the driver.

Welcome to America, pops. You’re looking good, pops. Long time no see.

Like Chris, the stamp of adolescence had disappeared. Her face had the artificial glamour one sees on the faces of mature, sophisticated women who use too much mascara, lipstick, eye shadows and other chemicals. An earring clung to her right nostril. Her hair was cut close, so close that you could see the skull, and cropped at the sides.

What was going on? What was the problem with these kids? And there was that word again, pops. Were all fathers referred to as pops in America? What happened to plain old dad, or father?

I am glad to see you, Lisa, my daughter.

Ebo knew it as soon as he said those words; that the only way he would be able to carry on a decent conversation with his children would be to do it in English. It did not surprise him that his voice lacked enthusiasm. If Lisa noticed it she didn’t show it. He would waste no time telling his wife he absolutely disliked the fact that she had allowed this to happen. He wondered whether she communicated with the kids in English.

Lisa, said Chris. You know something? You should have seen the look on pop’s face when he saw me. I thought I was going to die.

He erupted into laughter.

Shut up, you bum, responded Lisa. That is not even funny.

Why not? Tell me why it isn’t funny.

Cuz, it isn’t. That’s why, fool. Pops, you all right in the back? You must be tired from all that traveling. Go ahead and rest. We have about an hour and a half to travel.

Did you say something to me, Lisa? asked Ebo.

He had heard the exchange between them and was trying to figure out what they were talking about.

Yeah, pops. I’m saying we have about an hour and a half to travel to get home, so go ahead and get some rest, okay, if that’s what you want to do.

Did you say we are going to be in this car for an hour and a half?

Yep.

I thought you live in New York city.

Sure.

And it is going to take an hour and a half to get home. How far away is it?

Chris erupted into laughter again.

What’s the matter with you, fool? asked Lisa. She threw a quick glance at Chris.

Pops wants to know if we live in New York.

And that is supposed to be funny?

Shit yeah, what you think?

I wish you will shut up.

Why should I?

Cuz’ I said so, fool.

Make me.

Just shut up.

And if I don’t?

I’ll kick your black ass.

I don’t think so, sis.

Oh, you don’t think I can kick your ass now? Cuz’ pops is here now?

What’s that got to do with anything? Pops being here don’t change nothing.

The conversation between his daughter and son didn’t make sense to Ebo. It sounded like an argument of sorts, but what were they arguing about?

Suddenly Ebo felt very tired and drowsy. He closed his eyes. He would nap the rest of the way. Not only did the kids not make sense: their attitude turned him off. They were too loud, too aggressive, a totally un-African attitude. He would have to speak to his wife immediately about that. He would not allow his kids to behave like this. No way. He dozed off.

CHAPTER TWO

OH WELL, LOOKS like mom is not home. I wonder what happened, said Lisa.

The car came to a stop with a jerk. Ebo opened his eyes. They were in the driveway of a two-storey house. Houses of similar design and size lined both sides of the street. The area reminded him of a rich and exclusive neighborhood in Accra, the capital of Ghana.

Had his family suddenly become rich? He had no way of knowing this was a residential area, populated by people the media describe as lower middle class in America.

Did you say something, Lisa? asked Ebo.

Yeah pops. I just said mom is not home

How do you know, Lisa?

Her car is not here. Pops, we have two cars, okay. Chris, get the luggage out of the trunk and bring it to the house. And you know what? Don’t leave it downstairs. Take it straight to mom’s room upstairs.

Two cars, thought Ebo. Only rich people can afford two cars. Why would they need two cars?

Lisa, what did I tell you before?

What?

I told you to stop messing with me.

What is your problem, boy? All I’m asking you to do is to bring your father’s luggage upstairs, and you have a problem with that.

He’s your father too, isn’t he?

Yes,

Why don’t you do it then?

Just get your ass moving. You’re getting on my nerves.

What you gonna do if I say I’m not going to do it? Never mind, said Chris with a shrug. He got out of the car.

Lisa said: That boy gets on my nerves. I can’t stand him. Dad, you see what I got to put up with?

They looked at each other. Ebo would have liked to say something, but had no idea what to say. The meaning was clear enough; it confirmed what he had suspected: something was wrong, drastically wrong, with this family.

So we are home? asked Ebo.

Yes, this is where we live. But like I said before, mom is not home. I don’t know why. She was supposed to be here when we got back. I guess she’ll rush back as soon as she can. Come on, let’s go inside.

She shrugged and smiled.

Ebo followed her to the house. The furniture was of the ultra modern type: lots of glass and chrome. The curtains were the same color as the carpet.

He walked over to the couch and sat down. The cushions were soft and comfortable.

Can I get you something to drink, pops? Like a cold beer or a soda?

It was Lisa yelling at the top of her voice from somewhere in the back, out of sight.

Why did she yell? All she had to do was to walk over and ask the question, like most young girls do, back home.

Bring me a beer.

And bring me one too.

Chris had materialized from another part of the house. Ebo sat up straight in the couch. His eyes were focused on Chris. He had asked for a beer, with the self-assurance of an adult used to asking and having beer delivered to him by his sister. How? The kid was only sixteen. Besides, Chris did not seem to be concerned about the fact that his father was right there with him. Do children drink in front of their parents in this country?

Lisa appeared with a bottle of beer and a glass. She filled the glass to the brim.

This is Budweiser, pops, the best American beer. It’s nice and cold. Try it, I think you will like it, said Lisa.

Shut up, Lisa. You don’t know nothing about no beer. Where is mine?

Chris was sprawled in the love seat, his legs crossed and propped on the coffee table, arms folded across his chest. It reminded Ebo of what he used to do back home, when he returned from work.

Lisa sat next to Ebo and said: Don’t pay him no mind, pops. That boy has no sense.

Ebo took a long sip of the beer. It tasted slightly different from the beer back home.

Chris leapt to his feet. He said:

I guess I’d better go get my own beer. Lisa, you know what? You are an asshole.

He burst out laughing.

I don’t see nothing funny about that, boy, she said.

The hell with you.

What did you say, boy?

"I said the hell with you and what you gonna do about it?

I’ll kick your ass.

Come on, I’ll beat the shit out of you.

Oh yeah. Come on, show me what you can do.

Lisa sprang to her feet, took two steps and stopped in front of her brother. She drew herself to her full height. They stood face to face, inches away from each other. There was a scowl on her face. The smile on the face of Chris had suddenly changed into a sneer.

For a moment, Ebo sat there, immobilized with fear, panic and horror. All he could think of was what happens back home when two people confront each other this way. You don’t get in someone’s face that close unless you are ready to fight.

Ebo leapt to his feet. He had to stop these kids before they started a real fight. He had been intrigued as well as amused by their verbal spats, but this was something else.

Lisa. Chris. Stop fighting. Move away from each other. Come on, stop fighting.

Chris turned his head and met his gaze. He said: Get her out of my face. Move, Lisa.

No, you move. responded Lisa

You’re the one got in my face. I said move.

No. you move. I don’t know what your problem is. I ain’t did nothing to you.

Yeah right. You say that all the time. Just move before I put my fist in your face. I said move.

Damn you. Who you think you talking to?

You want me to show you? I’ll show you.

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved, not very hard, but with enough force to make her take a couple of steps backwards.

She snarled.

You asshole, I’ll kill you.

She took a step forward, and froze.

The door swung open.

Hi everybody, said the voice.

She stood in the doorway, a wide grin suffusing her face.

Hi mom, said Chris.

Hi ma, said Lisa.

Hello, my dear wife, Christina, said Ebo.

Ebo threw his hands wide open. Christina walked up to him, and embraced him. For a moment they clung to each other, and then she backed away and sat down.

Christina looked him over, from top to bottom, and smiled: You’re looking good, Ebo, I’m sure glad you’re here. Takes some of the load off my shoulders. As soon as you get a job, I can take a vacation. I’ve not had a vacation in four years, because I can’t afford to take the time off. With you around with a job, I can do that. You’re looking good. Who’s been taking care of you? Another female? Who is it?

Ebo glanced uneasily at Chris and Lisa. What a change.They had resumed their seats. Chris was sipping his beer. Lisa was sitting in the chair, not on the seat, but on her legs folded up under her. He was thinking about what Christina had just said and was trying to figure out what kind of response to give. What a strange world this America is; that his wife could just walk in, pretend as though nothing had happened and begin to carry on a conversation. On top of that, she wanted to know about another woman, in front of the kids. What a world. You don’t discuss such things in front of kids. This is serious adult stuff; talked about only behind closed doors, in total privacy. Did she really mean everything she had said?

"We have a lot to talk