Children of the Street - [40]

Cairo effortlessly swiveled his ultralight wheelchair and wheeled himself out ahead of Dawson.

“Take a look at this,” Cairo said, handing Dawson a small attractive box.

“Wisdom cookies,” Dawson read off the top. “What’s that?”

“Our own twist on fortune cookies. Instead of something that predicts what’s going to happen to you, these contain Ghanaian proverbs imparting wisdom.”

“That’s a clever idea. Who came up with it?”

“My brilliant wife. Try one.”

The cookies were flat but bowed in shape. Dawson snapped one open and read the strip of paper on the inside. Sankofa: It is not taboo to go back and fetch what you forgot. The classic proverb.

Dawson popped the cookie in his mouth. It was crisp and crunchy. “Mm, delicious. Selling well?”

“Like beer at a bar. Perfect gifts for the tourists. Along with Ghanaian chocolate, of course.”

“I’ll take a box of the cookies home. Where do you get the proverbs from, by the way?”

“Right here,” Cairo said, wheeling over to the small selection of books. He took one down called Three Thousand Six Hundred Ghanaian Proverbs.

“Three thousand six hundred?” Dawson said in surprise as he leafed through. “Are there even that many in English?”

“That’s what I wondered myself,” Cairo said, with a chuckle.

After sending Georgina home, Cairo closed the shop. He and Dawson sat talking for almost an hour about family and politics. Dawson had never seen his brother happier.

When it was time to go, he offered Cairo a lift home, which was little more than a mile away. On the way there, Cairo phoned Audrey to let her know that she needn’t pick him up from the shop.

Dawson unloaded the wheelchair and brought it around to the passenger side. Cairo expertly transferred himself out of the car.

“Take care,” Dawson said.

“You too. My love to Christine and Hosiah.”

Smiling, Dawson watched his brother roll away to his front door with impressive speed.

Christine was in the kitchen making dinner when Dawson got home. He presented her with his gift from the shop.

“Wisdom cookies!” she exclaimed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“My thought exactly,” Dawson said, peering into the pot of simmering stew. “Mm, smells fantastic. Where’s Hosiah?”

“Sulking in his room.”

“Sulking? About what?”

“He announced today that he wanted pizza. I told him it’s too salty.”

Dawson frowned. “Pizza? Where has he been eating pizza?”

Christine hesitated. “Um…”

“Um, what?” He looked at her quizzically. “Oh, wait a minute. I bet you I know what’s going on.”

“Darko…”

But he was already out of the kitchen on the way to Hosiah’s bedroom. The boy was lying in bed with his face pressed into his pillow. Dawson sat next to him and shook him gently.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

Hosiah whined.

“That’s not an answer. Get your head out of the pillow, turn over, and talk to me.”

Hosiah did as he was told, pouting.

“What’s the matter?” Dawson asked.

“I want pizza.” He pronounced it pee-za.

“What did Mammy tell you about pizza?”

“It has too much salt.”

“Right. And what does salt do to you?”

“Makes my heart sick.”

“Correct. You want to go to the hospital again?”

“No,” Hosiah said miserably. “But…”

“But what?”

Hosiah stammered out an incoherent sentence with incomprehensible reasoning.

“Have you been eating pizza somewhere?” Dawson asked.

Hosiah was evasive. “I had some once.”

“What do you mean you had some ‘once’? Where and when?”

“At Frankie’s at the Accra Mall.”

“Granny took you there?”

Hosiah nodded.

“Aha,” Dawson said triumphantly.

Back in the kitchen, he stood in the doorway with folded arms. “Good try, Christine.”

She was practically squirming. “Sorry, Dark.”

“Okay, that’s that. Hosiah doesn’t go to your mother’s ever again.”

“Dark-”

“Dark, nothing. I gave her another chance. Does she ever do anything right?”

“That isn’t fair,” Christine said sharply. “Look, it’s partly our fault. We didn’t really talk to her about the salt.”

“No,” Dawson said, shaking his head. “Oh, no. We’re not taking the blame for this. She was well aware that salt is a problem for Hosiah, and she goes and chooses one of the worst foods for salt content. Good Lord, what is wrong with that woman?”

“But she probably doesn’t know there’s that much salt in pizza,” Christine tried.

“Oh, please, Christine.”

She sighed in exasperation, pouring the stew into a dish with a plop. Dawson called out to Hosiah and told him to wash his hands for dinner. The boy appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later with an aggrieved look.

“But why can’t they take the salt out of the pizza?” he said as he sat at the table.

“Oh,” Dawson said in surprise. He looked at Christine. “He does have a point. Couldn’t we make a pizza ourselves with fresh tomatoes and no salt added?”

“I haven’t a clue how to make it,” she said.

“But how hard could it be?” Dawson said. “It’s just dough and tomato and cheese, isn’t it? I know cheese is expensive, but we could just use less of it.”

“Yay!” Hosiah cheered. “Our own pizza! Let’s make it now.”

“We don’t have the ingredients yet, silly,” Dawson said, grinning. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Hosiah jumped off his chair and did a victory dance while chanting, “Pee-