One of the benefits of living in Ghana is that I have friends. I’ve learned over the years to be careful and selective in my human relationships. Because some friends invariably have ulterior motives. One of my female friends telephoned me last week to determine if I had purchased the apples she requested of me? I was very happy to be able to tell her that I had fractured my Fibula, and accordingly, my movements were extremely limited. Therefore, I couldn’t run many of the errands I would normally accomplish. I suggested that she send me her WhatsApp number so that I could transmit pics of my leg enclosed in Plaster of Paris. She promptly promised that she would do as I had requested. However, I’m still waiting for her words to be fulfilled. After studying and observing her for four years, I feel she will never send me her WhatsApp number because she fears obtaining more information about my problem. At the age of 32, psychologically and emotionally, she is still a child. She yearns for other mature people to take care of her. Yet, she is unwilling to exercise any adult responsibility towards others. Another friend away at school studying for his first degree arrived in Berekum recently. He came to my home to visit me. After examining my injury, he suggested I accompany him to the village of Mpatapo, where he would introduce me to an alternative medicine practitioner.
I met up with my friend on Thursday afternoon, June 27, at the Happy Hospital in Berekum. From there, we walked to the Mpatapo Taxi Station, where we boarded an Okada, which took us to the village. The car transported us directly to the property, and after disembarking, we walked over to the healer’s house. She gave us chairs to sit on, and we sat down after some brief introductory niceties. There were several people in the yard. Most of them were young women and girls. They sat and stared most of the time because Ghana is largely agrarian. Employment opportunities are scarce, and young people in their teenage years and early 20s have a great deal of time on their hands. Everyone was pleasant. A few older men who lived nearby came to examine my foot and afterward assured me that I would walk normally again within three days. The healer soon got down to business. She and my friend removed the bandage and plaster of pairs from my leg and foot and were both amazed at the pervasive black and blue they observed. They warned me the bandage should not be re-applied since my foot, ankles, and lower leg discoloration was so severe. I was certainly not prepared for what ensued. She placed her hand firmly over a small plastic bag of ice and massaged the black and blue area forcefully with the ice. The pain was excruciating and almost unbearable, but I endured it until the end. Several onlookers stood by to gauge my response. A few of them informed me that other people who had come there with similar injuries had been reduced to tears.
After this therapeutic procedure ended, I was actually able to walk. I thanked Ms. Diana, the lady administering the treatment, and cautiously made my way to the roadside, accompanied by my friend. We both stood and waited patiently for another Okada headed towards Berekum. At the end of each session, she rubbed a certain ointment that looked like clay over my injured foot and lower leg. I allowed it to remain there just as applied until it was dry. The following day, during my morning shower, I washed it off. The property’s location seemed complicated initially, but I knew exactly where it was situated after several trips.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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