Page 34 of Craving a King

Kofi takes me by surprise and drops to his knees on the floor of the limo. He gently places his palms on my thighs and looks up at me with a steady gaze. His eyes are bigger and more intoxicating than ever. For a moment, I’m convinced he’s about to ask me to be his wife and stay with him forever. But of course, he’s not. He needs a queen. Not an independent American that opens schools easier than her heart. Still, his eyes are imploring me to do something unspoken.

“Ella, you can do this. You’ve done it in disadvantaged cities across the U.S.” He grabs my hands to offer a reassuring squeeze. “What makes Tafo, Tarkwa, or Aboso any different?”

I tear away from his gaze and start twisting the Cartier love bracelet around my wrist. “Kofi, you must know poverty in the states does not look like this.” I gesture to the passing landscape before meeting his eyes again. “America at its core is a welfare state with a stronger infrastructure. It camouflages poverty well.”

I search for a better explanation, but there is no clear explanation for the effects of racism versus colonialism on communities. Plus, that’s too heavy of a conversation to have right now. “I don’t know. I just think education is clearly the game-changer here. And everyone from the students to village leaders and the king knows it.”

He nods, finally understanding. “I think what you’re trying to convey is the level of accountability is the highest you’ve had to manage. Since our community is all on one page, anyone can take you to task. The people you serve will have a great sense of investment in your proposal and its implementation.”

I raise my hands in agreement. “Yes! I don’t want to let them down.”

Kofi grabs my hands and gives a warm look. “You won’t let anyone down. I’ve seen your work. I think every school you’ve opened and every community you’ve transformed up to this point was preparation for this moment.” He abruptly knocks on the partition. “Driver?”

The driver rolls the partition down, revealing a much older man behind the wheel. He looks to be a slight man not a day younger than 80. “Yes, your majesty?”

“You may let us out here and pick us up in the same spot two hours from now.” Kofi pats my thigh and rises from the floor to take the seat opposite mine. He starts to smooth his clothes and look in the mirror of the window glass to check his reflection. The king is making an appearance. The transformation from pleading lover to dignitary is quick and appreciated. I need him to provide unbiased feedback as I attempt to influence members of his community to trust the Revolution Academy vision.

I take another look out the window and realize our first stop is a very old church. At least it looks old. The wood frame and bell in the small steeple are reminiscent of an episode ofLittle House on the Prairie.There is a large cemetery that surrounds the sides and back of the church. I determine it is probably the main church in town.

“Kofi, do you worship here?”

Kofi looks out the window with a tinge of sadness. “It is my mother’s family church. When I do have the privilege of attending church, this is where I come.” He looks over at me to explain. “It’s not as often as I’d like, but I have to stay neutral on religious matters. I have to lead everyone and alienate no one.”

I chuckle lightly. “I know all about that. My mother was a Baptist and my father a Catholic. To avoid war, we just became Baptists. Then they became Baptist pastors. I think my father still misses parts of his Catholic faith.”

“It’s a bit more complicated here. Religion is such a sensitive issue. No matter where I visit, another faction might feel slighted. So, I am careful to keep my visits anywhere sparse.”

“Smart man.” I grab my bag and gather my items. “If your visits can be so divisive, why are we here?”

He opens the door and steps out into the blinding African sun. He places the sunglasses he never leaves home without on his eyes before leaning down back into the limo to offer his hand to me. I climb out and instantly regret forgetting my shades. I turn to him and place my hand over my eyes. He smirks and takes his shades off and places them on my eyes. “There, that’s better.” He strokes a tendril of hair from my face and I nearly melt.But I don’t.

“We’re here, Ella, because this is the place to be.” He takes my hand and starts to walk me to the entrance. “It is the most populous church in Tafo, and the pastor and I are close.”

As we approach, I see a sign outside the church readsTafo Presbyterian Assembly est. 1689. I gasp, realizing the congregation is over 400 years old. I take out my cell phone to snap a picture. “Wow, Kofi, this building has real historical significance.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s over 400 years old!”

He pauses at the door of the church and breaks out into his hearty laugh. “Oh, my Ella, you’re in Africa. Everything is old! This village alone is 1,000 years old and broken up into two sections, Old Tafo and Tafo. If we go by your definition, everything you see today will have historical significance. I forget how young your country is.”

I laugh, too. “Yeah, it’s crazy to think this church is older than America by quite a bit.”

We continue inside the church and I touch each and every pew. I think of all the services and community meetings held here. Did they meet here to combat the slave trade? Did they strategize in this very room about how to keep the villagers safe from their would-be captors? A booming voice interrupts my musings.

“Asantehene! What a pleasant surprise.” A portly man in a clergy attire comes from a room at the back of the church and grabs Kofi in a fatherly hug. Kofi looks genuinely happy to see him. “You should have told me you were coming to visit; I would have held a full service just for you.” He laughs, patting Kofi on the back.

“No, sir, I only came to introduce the woman who will bring public education to the village.” He motions for me to join their reunion. Once I’m close enough, he places his hand in mine and squeezes. “This is Ella Jenkins, CEO of Revolution Academies.” The reverend looks at our joined hands and calculates something quickly in his head before smiling. “Ella, this is the Reverend Paul Asante, also known as my uncle.”

“Your uncle!” I reach out to grab his hand in a shake. Instead, he grabs me in a hug equivalent to the one he gave Kofi moments before. When I’m released, I smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, reverend. Now, are you really his uncle? Or is that another term of endearment?”

He tilts his head and gives me a curious look.

I offer a laugh. “Because I found out the hard way that Akua is not really his aunt!”

Kofi’s uncle places his hand on my shoulder and laughs with me, while escorting me to the nearest pew to sit down with him. “I assure you, I am his dear late mother’s only brother, and I am pleased to meet you.” He grabs and vigorously shakes both my hands. “We have been waiting for you. Our young people need schooling they can afford so they can have hope. I can preach hope all I want from that pulpit…” He pauses to look up at his lectern. “But if I can’t offer a tangible plan to help to change their lives, it falls on deaf ears.”

Kofi walks around to stand in the row in front of us. He looks at me though he’s speaking to his uncle. “Well, that is what Ella is, uncle; she is hope.”

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