Kwei Quartey - Wife of the Gods

“Yes, I do,” Dawson said, handing it over to Fiti, who read it in silence.

“I see,” he said curtly when he was done. “I would like to make a copy.”

“Of course,” Dawson said.

Fiti got up and removed some papers from the top of a small photocopy machine.

“Can you give me your version of the chronology of the events around Gladys Mensah’s death, Inspector?” Dawson asked as Fiti began to copy the first page.

“Chronology,” Fiti said slowly, as if considering the nuances of the word.

“When the body was found and so on.”

“Yes, I know what the word chronology means,” Fiti said.

“I apologize, Inspector.”

“Today is Tuesday. Gladys went to Bedome on last Friday in the afternoon. She was killed sometime during the evening or night of Friday. On Saturday morning, Gladys’s brother Charles came to report her missing, and on the same morning, Efia, a woman from Bedome, found her body. Crime scene unit came in the afternoon and took their photographs and all those things, and then the body was taken to the VRA morgue on Saturday night to await the postmortem.”

“Did the crime scene guys say when they’d be ready with their report?”

“They said next week,” Fiti replied with a shrug. “They always say next week. It could be next year.”

“You’re right,” Dawson agreed. “Back to Gladys, though. What was she doing in Bedome?”

“She was a volunteer with the GHS AIDS outreach program,” Timothy explained. “We provide voluntary counseling and testing-VCT-in both urban and rural areas, and we have a limited supply of antiretroviral medicines to dispense to HIV-positive people, especially for pregnant women.”

“You use a lot of volunteers?”

“A few. We have an arrangement with the medical schools. Every year they provide us with three or four medical students who do their electives with us. Gladys was one of them. Ketanu and Bedome were on our VCT list this year, and she picked those.”

“Was she the only volunteer for the two towns?”

“Yes.”

“Might there be anyone in Ketanu or Bedome who didn’t like what Gladys was doing?”

Timothy took a breath. “Unfortunately, yes. She clashed badly with Bedome’s head priest-name’s Togbe Adzima-over this trokosi business. Have you heard about it, Inspector Dawson? These women they call trokosi? Supposedly wives of the gods serving at a shrine as penance for a family crime? They’re often brought to the shrine as girls as young as nine, and once they reach puberty, the fetish priests begin to have sex with them.”

“I thought all that had been outlawed.”

“Technically, yes. There’s a law on the books, but not a single person has ever been arrested in connection with trokosi.”

“Why is that, exactly?”

“Good propaganda is one reason, if not the only one. The fetish priests-who, by the way, don’t like being referred to that way-insist trokosi is an age-old tradition that should be respected. And if anyone tries to eradicate it, they say, the gods will be angered and take revenge in some way. That scares away even the police. And then there’s AfriKulture.”

“Afri-who?”

“AfriKulture. It’s an organization dedicated to saving aspects of Ghanaian culture and tradition that it claims are under attack from the Western world, trokosi being one of them. I’m loath to admit it, but their campaign is gaining strength. You can hardly get to a shrine without going through AfriKulture.”

“What does AfriKulture say about the girls taken into the shrine?”

“That they’re privileged young women who will learn the ways of morality. They deny that any of them are cast into perpetual servitude.”

“I take it you think that’s a load of nonsense.”

“Yes, I do. Look, this thing might have worked centuries ago, but it doesn’t fit with modern times. I think these so-called priests are con artists enslaving young women under the guise of a so-called tradition.”

“Togbe Adzima being one of these con artists, in your opinion.”

Timothy nodded vigorously. “Without a doubt. Gladys felt the same way.”

“She confronted Adzima?”

“Not just confronted. She went head-to-head with him. I told her she had to tone it down, but she wouldn’t. She kept telling him she was going to bring down the hand of the law on him, and he kept invoking the power of the gods against her. Told her she would be struck down by them if she continued in that fashion.”

“And now she’s been struck down,” Dawson said.

“Yes,” Timothy said bitterly. “It really gets to me.”

“At any rate, it would seem to make Adzima a suspect. What do you think, Inspector Fiti?”

“I think Togbe Adzima believes in his gods,” Fiti replied. “He really would trust them to destroy Gladys on their own power, and so I think he would leave it for the gods to do and not kill her himself.”

Interesting point , Dawson thought.

“The one I really suspect is Samuel Boateng,” Fiti went on.

“Who is he?” Dawson asked.

“This boy Samuel-he was constantly pestering Gladys to be his girlfriend and, according to Charles Mensah, some farmers saw him talking to her near the forest the last evening she was seen alive.”

“You say ‘boy.’ How old is Samuel Boateng?”

“He’s nineteen, something like that.”

“You’ve questioned him?”

“Yes, and I’m going to arrest him. I believe he became very angry that Gladys was rejecting him and he killed her soon after he was spotted with her that evening.”

Dawson nodded. “I see. What about Gladys’s family members?”

“All of them loved Gladys,” Fiti said, “and they were proud of her because she was going to be a doctor. Only one thing-there is some bad talk about her aunt Elizabeth. Some people say she killed Gladys using witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft,” Dawson echoed in surprise. “Why do they think that?”

“She’s a widow,” Fiti said, “she has no children, she’s an older woman, and she makes money. Those things make people suspect her.”

“The profile of a witch, so to speak. Did she have a motive?”

“Witches don’t need any motive,” Fiti said witheringly “Elizabeth’s husband died in his sleep years ago without any explanation, and people accused her of the same thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been to this part of the world before, Inspector Dawson,” Timothy said, “but belief in witchcraft is very strong around here.”

“Believe it or not, I was here twenty-five years ago.”

“Oh, is that so?” Timothy said. “What brought you, may I ask?”

“I came with my mother to visit her sister. She still lives here.”

“What’s her name?”

“Osewa Gedze.”

“Oh, yes,” Fiti said. “I know her. Kweku’s wife.”

“Maybe later you can show me to their house,” Dawson said. “I’m not sure if they live in the same place, and Ketanu has grown a lot since I was last here.”

“Constable Gyamfi can take you there,” Fiti said.

“Did you also visit Bedome when you were here as a kid?” Timothy asked.

“No, I didn’t. How far is it from here?”

“About a kilometer away on the other side of the forest. Shrines prefer to be somewhat obscured by bush or forest.”

“Makes sense,” Dawson said. “Especially now with all this scrutiny.”

“Indeed,” Timothy said. “Where will you be staying while you’re here?”

“The MoH guesthouse,” Dawson answered. To Fiti he said, “Are you all right with my being in Ketanu with the investigation?”

“Look, it’s no problem,” Fiti said. “Anyway, when we go and arrest Samuel today maybe it will be all over and you can go back to Accra and live in peace ever after.”