Providence: Break down

Break down isn’t exactly the right wording. Better it should be called the “break off,” ‘cause that’s what happened. Yesterday, Sly calls to tell me that the SOS school called him because Alexandra forgot her PE clothes. It was just after 1:00 p.m. anyway, and she gets out at 2:00 so I tell him I’ll bring it and just wait for her to close. I hop in the car and she’s waiting there already for the uniform handover.

At 2:00 she’s eager and ready to leave, and I decide we’ll head over to the butcher shop in Community 10 (11? I never can keep track of these communities) and buy some luncheon meat. It’s really mystery meat, but my kids like it and it fries up a little like Taylor ham, so it’s worth the trip. We leave and head home. At the intersection that we’d normally cross, the traffic light isn’t working and the cars on the primary road NEVER give the cars on the secondary road a chance to come through. There’s no such thing as a 4-way stop or all flashing red traffic light. It’s more like every man for himself.

Well, I’m behind a van who is dilly dallying at the intersection, and I decide to make a right turn and go to the next traffic light and then make a left. Normally, I’d go straight across, but this just seemed easier. As I get to the intersection the light is red for me, so I move into the left land and put my turn signal on. Now, I might have mentioned this before, but Ghanaian drivers generally don’t understand the concept of driving courteously. It really is dog-eat-dog on the streets of Tema. But I spot my chance, as a big white 18 wheeler is slowly approaching the light and I know there’s just enough time for me to make the turn in front of him.

And then. THUNK. Make, that a very loud THUNK. And the car doesn’t move. Fortunately, we didn’t move even an inch forward, so I wasn’t in the lane of oncoming traffic, but I was pretty frighteningly close. I couldn’t move the car at all. Another car makes a turn in front of me, and the female driver (who turns out to be an SOS parent with an SOS kid in the back of her car) tells me that something fell off the car. I resist the urge to yell “D’oh!” Another driver in a pick-up also motions that something fell, and I yell out to him, “Can you help me get out of the intersection?”

Miracle of miracles. He stops and gets out. He is going to push me and Alex, in our big-ass mini van, through the traffic light. One thing about Ghanaians, they can really rally to help in an emergency. Within minutes, there were 6 guys helping to push the car through the intersection; one of them ran back and grabbed the thing that had fallen off the car and handed it to me through the open window.

Meanwhile, I’m screaming at Alex to take my cell phone and “Call Daddy!” I know I don’t have enough units to call him for more than a few seconds; I’ve only got about 35 pesawas worth of credit. But Sly picks up and I shout that it’s an emergency and he should call me back. Seconds later, I’m yelling (my adrenaline was really kicking into high gear at this point) that the “shaft” fell off the car and I’m stuck and that a bunch of guys are pushing us to a safe spot.

Sly is somewhat directionally challenged, so it takes a couple of minutes for him to understand exactly where I am but eventually he figures it out. He assures me he’ll send Ekow and call the mechanic and that he’s on his way.

The guys who pushed me are still hanging around, and I know they’re waiting for a tip or something. But the fact is I am flat broke. I’ve got a single cedi to my name, plus half a kilo of mystery meat and 4 melting fruit juice bars. I doubt that that is going to go over big. Instead, I get out and offer firm handshakes and giant thank yous all around and that, fortunately, suffices. They all scatter to the four winds.

Did I mention that Alex was low at this point? We had tested her blood sugar only minutes before, and fortunately, there are a couple of juice bars turning into a puddle, so she’s at least got sustenance. But her diabetes and sugar levels are just another complication to add to my increasing stress level.

Ten minutes later, Ekow pulls up and runs back to the car, heading toward the driver’s side. I guess Sly neglected to tell him about the broken shaft. When he sees that, his eyes roll back into his head and he realizes that the car ain’t going anywhere. A minute later, the mechanic pulls up. He sees it’s the shaft and he’s not happy. You see, that shaft was just put into the car – by him – less than 2 weeks ago. So what happened?

We’re only 10 minutes away from the house (on foot) and Alex has now got a juice bar and a juice box in her system – definitely more than enough sugar – so we leave the driver and mechanic and head home.

Alex, who is definitely wiser than her 8 years, says to me, “It could have been worse.” Yes, it really could have. I could have been on the Motorway doing 65 mph when the shaft broke. Or I could have made that left hand turn in front of the 18 wheeler and stopped dead right in front of him. Or or or or or… there’s a lot of ors to this one.

This intersection appears to have it in for me. It’s the same one we were at when the taxi we were riding in broke down last year. Apparently, though, my guardian angel was with me, yet again. Thank God.