Page 20 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Robyn was an intruder—and one without a man?

Why should she have a better chance at a better life in their homeland?

They would sell to her…for a price in cedis that was often double what it would cost back home.

At first, they’d just wanted her obruni money, so they hustled her.

If Robyn had questions about texture, taste, or “smoking point,” they by and large seemed annoyed, kissing their teeth with impatience.

If she asked, “Do taro leaves cook down like collard greens?” the vendors rolled their eyes and just repeated the price again, scrunching up their faces in bewilderment and looking away.

Meanwhile Robyn tried to learn, squeezing and smelling plump red tomatoes, massaging bags of anise seed or whole black peppercorns, and tasting bitter turkey berries and sweet tiger nuts.

Today that rejection no longer occurred. The vendors knew Robyn now by face and name and they greeted her with smiles as they clamored for her business.

“Akwaaba, Robyn! Etisen?”

“Me ho ye.” Robyn replied she was fine in their native tongue.

“Maakye, Robyn. Fresh okra over here for you. For your stews…!”

“Daabi, mepa wo kyew,” Robyn responded with a smile, saying no thank you, but assuring her she’d be back.

She was on a mission for palm wine; she needed it for something…

special, very special. Robyn kept moving and swiveling her head, searching for the vendor that she heard sold it in small batches.

“If you blink you’ll miss it,” Robyn recalled one of her favorite people saying.

Robyn found the vendor sandwiched between a stall selling cornmeal and another selling to-go bottles of bright red sobolo.

Though Robyn loved the familiar taste of this refreshing elixir that reminded her of Jamaican sorrel, she stayed focused on securing the palm wine she wanted.

As she traded her Ghanaian currency—the cedi—for the bottle of the milky, sweet, and effervescent liquid, she heard a warm, booming, and familiar voice behind her.

“Aaaah, you found it!” Robyn turned with a smile. It was Thema. “Maakye, Robyn!”

“Maakye, Thema,” Robyn returned, arms outstretched as she embraced the older towering Ghanaian woman with a youthful spirit that was so full of wisdom. “What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing a few items. The velvet tamarind is about to be in season and I want to plant some.”

“Yesss, I started working with it too,” Robyn was happy to report. “That was the last thing we needed.”

Thema gestured with her head to follow her. “Come, let’s catch up.”

Robyn couldn’t help but smile at Thema as they made their way toward the market’s exit. It had been a few weeks since she’d been to see Thema, her usual visit to this miracle worker of a woman who had been the key to Robyn’s salvation on this continent, when she’d most needed saving.

Robyn first met Thema during her time being hazed in Makola Market.

In her early days of starting Robyn’s Nest, Robyn had also tried her hand at negotiating with the fisherman down at Osu Beach.

They peddled red snapper, grouper, and lobster for a fair and decent price, but it was still a shock to see the conditions these industrious folks lived under.

Osu Beach was full of colorful fishing boats that painted a beautiful picture against the sapphire sky and azure water, but it was littered with abandoned “donated” clothing, plastic bottles, bags, and rubbish.

The stench of sewage and waste invaded her nostrils depending on which way the wind blew.

After a few frustrating attempts, Robyn was overwhelmed.

She sat down on the sand with her just-purchased fish and cried.

The poverty, the living conditions, the disparities—it didn’t feel right, or fair.

Nor was it what she’d expected. And as hard as she tried, she didn’t feel like she understood her new home.

Had she failed? Had she made a terrible mistake?

Was moving halfway across the world…impulsive?

Silly, even? Admitting that to herself, or anyone (especially Harper), would have been devastating.

Thankfully, at least Mia seemed to be adjusting okay.

But Robyn had been feeling out of place like the fish that sat by her side on the sand.

She wasn’t suffocating but she was looking for air.

And then she saw her.

An older Black woman dressed in flowing white fabrics standing on the rocky outcrops close to the ocean.

Her copper arms were outstretched toward the sea as if to say, “I am here and I dare you to move me.” She stood fierce and erect, communing with the powerful sea, immovable.

She was performing some kind of spiritual ritual that Robyn couldn’t understand, but she commanded Robyn’s gaze.

Robyn envied her calm, her confidence, her majesty.

As the woman retreated from the rocks, Robyn watched, trying her best not to stare.

Unexpectedly, the woman turned to Robyn and approached, introducing herself.

Thema (Tema) was her name. Rather than treating Robyn like a stranger, she offered a comforting touch.

“Are you okay, my dear?” she asked in a raspy yet soothing voice.

“No. But I will be, thank you.” Robyn had been honest even if she didn’t fully believe it. Her glass-half-full posture demanded it. Thema examined Robyn head to toe and told Robyn to come visit her at her place because she “looked in need.”

Robyn shook her head. “No,” she said. “That would be selfish of me to think I’m in need.” She gestured to her surroundings.

“There are different levels, Robyn,” Thema replied. “You can’t give your best unless you are your best. You are the work. To be good for yourself, your business, and your children.”

Robyn smiled and nodded. “You’re right, but I only have one child. My daughter, Mia.”

“You have a son,” Thema said declaratively. What? Robyn instinctively leaned away.

“N-No I don’t,” she said, but her mind whispered, Solomon.

“Yes, you do. He’s right next to you.” Thema gestured to the air at Robyn’s right side.

Robyn cautiously looked in that direction, saw nothing, and was rendered speechless.

The way Thema looked at her, she knew what she was talking about.

She didn’t guess. She knows about Solomon, Robyn thought.

“Come see me,” Thema said and squeezed Robyn’s hand before she even knew she was holdingit.

—

Robyn showed up at Thema’s Healing Compound.

It was a sprawling green beachside campus, an oasis of interdisciplinary learning that focused on culture, sustainability, and most of all, healing.

The land was home to a garden of fresh vegetables, robust farm animals, a neem healing tree, and a yoga studio.

There, Thema specialized in spiritual, ancestral, and emotional healing.

Robyn had practiced many of Thema’s modalities before, so her spirit was open and drawn to these earthy, bohemian vibes.

On Thema’s healing table, Robyn was an open wound. Thema laid her hands with care, clearing energy, working with Robyn on unlocking her healing. And after a number of sessions, the next miraculous thing Thema said was an answer to a question Robyn hadn’t asked out loud.

“You belong here,” Thema declared.

She didn’t just mean “here” with her, but here in Accra, here in Africa. Robyn was right to be here, to have followed her heart.

“You have so much to offer and being here will produce your offerings in abundance.” Warm tears released from Robyn’s eyes immediately.

Thema gently wiped her cheeks, radiating energy that was powerful yet peaceful.

She possessed great strength and had helped many other returnees find their rightful place in their new world.

“Give it time,” Thema assured her. “Let go of what you’ve known.

Start anew. You will discover your life’s purpose.

You’ve always been searching for you. You’re finding her.

She’s here.” Robyn felt a rush of tension release and convulsed with a full-body weeping.

Thema continued to run her hands over Robyn’s face and scalp, down her neck and shoulders.

“You’re home, Robyn. Your daughter is home. Your son is home.”

As Thema gently held the space, Robyn mourned her and Harper’s loss in a way that she hadn’t at the time of the miscarriage.

And then when the mourning was complete, Thema helped Robyn create a pathway toward healing—breathing, meditation, intuition, acknowledgment.

Over time, bit by bit, she untethered herself from the trauma of her short time with Solomon.

She could say his name. She knew where he was, his place in her life, in the Universe, comforted that his spirit had never been lost after all.

Over the next year Robyn’s confidence grew.

She visited Thema every week to continue her journey.

Her Twi and Gaa got stronger. She made allies, sisters, and community.

With an expanded mind, everything fell into place, including the space in East Legon for Robyn’s Nest. Perfect for an up-and-coming enclave of upwardly mobile Ghanaians who wanted the pioneering culinary experiences Robyn was offering.

—

Now, exiting the marketing with Thema, Robyn walked arm in arm with her to Robyn’s RAV4. Adjua followed with the bowl of goods still expertly balanced on her head. Thema smiled generously. “Your new friend. When does he return?”

Now it was Robyn’s turn to show her own happiness.

She couldn’t help it, smiling so big, her eyelashes touched her cheeks.

She looked around to see if Adjua could hear and stepped Thema away from the rear of the vehicle like a high school girl bursting to share gossip.

“ Kwesi. He comes back Thursday,” Robyn answered.

Just thinking of him, speaking his name, she felt giddy.

“We’re going to meet at his place. He wants to cook together.” Robyn’s smile grew wider. Thema’s face showed excitement with a dose of her usual restraint.

“Aaah, and what are you making?”

“Oh, just some waakye.” Robyn threw out the name of a local street food made of rice, black-eyed peas, and chicken. “He’s been raving about his grandmother’s. And I think I can best it.” Robyn nodded with confidence. Thema looked at her blankly.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Thema said.

Robyn’s voice rose to a defensive pitch. “I’m going to make it great. Put my own spin on it. Some rosemary. Some scotch bonnet.”

“I don’t understand. You want him to think of his grandmother?” Thema asked earnestly.

Robyn laughed. “I just wanted him to think of home. ”

“You could be his home. Make him think of you. ”

Robyn smiled, exhaled, and looked away in thought.

“What is that…look of doubt in your face?” Robyn began an explanation but couldn’t quite find the words. “Uh-uh. Speak,” Thema encouraged her. “Express your feelings.”

“I don’t know, it’s just…should I be doing that? I mean, should I be…‘catering’ to him?”

“You are a caterer, are you not?”

“Thema…”

“You act like that’s a bad thing.”

Robyn frowned. “It can be. What if he doesn’t really appreciate my efforts?”

“Kwesi is not your ex-husband,” Thema stated simply. Robyn nodded and blinked slowly, pressing her lips together. Thema’s right.

“Robyn, don’t let your past relationship or someone else’s definitions and agenda dictate what’s in your heart to do.

Be true to yourself. ” Thema stepped closer to hold Robyn’s face in her hands.

“You are a gift to the world. As a master chef, you stimulate and excite all the senses, the nose, the palate, the heart, the soul.” Hearing Thema describe her like this made Robyn feel like a superhero.

“Show him who you are through your food and in any other way you choose. This is your love language. Use it.”

Robyn could only smile and nod in recognition. I’m still healing… she realized.

“It’s a process, my dear,” Thema said as if she’d read her mind.

Robyn sighed. “Yes, it is.” Just then, the sound of the pattering of raindrops started to fill the air around them, dropping onto the muddy gravel of the parking clearing. Thema looked around expectantly.

“We had better go. I’ll stop in later this week for dinner.”

“I look forward to it. Medaase.” Robyn thanked her with a hug.

Adjua shut the hatchback door as Thema retreated down the street, seemingly unbothered by the thought of getting soaked.

Robyn marveled at her. She is one with nature…

. Robyn and Adjua ducked into the mini SUV and shut the doors, leaving Robyn to think of what dish would be her own version of home.