Aha

Potat - Potit

 "Do you have this, my dear? What is it? What is it, something sweet."

She stuck her tongue out, showing the tip. "It's here, just here."

She stared at the box of sweet potatoes, trying to remember their name.

"Do you mean sweet potatoes, my dear Charity?" The shopkeeper asked.

"Aha, yes, sweet potat, sweet potit. Love them."

The shopkeeper gave her a plastic bag so she could help herself. "Here you are."

"Aha, I like these, I like them very much. What did you say?" She asked when the bag was in her hand.

"I said, here you are."

"No, the name, the name, the name." She pointed to the sweet potatoes.

"Sweet potatoes."

"Aha, yes, that's right. Sweethearts. I like sweethearts."

She began to select some.

"Can I help you?" the shopkeeper asked and began to help her.

"Sweetheart is very good. I like it."

"You mean sweet potatoes, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, it was here, just here."

She stuck out her tongue again. "I mean sweet pit, sweet photo. I don't know what happened to me after that crazy disease. I keep forgetting names. I know them but can't get them out."

She stuck out her tongue yet again and put her finger on it. She handed the bag back to the shopkeeper. "Sweetheart, how much is this?"

"Sixty-seven Crones, my dear Charity."

She handed him a hundred notes. "Is this enough? Do you want any more?"

"No, my dear, I owe you some change."

"Do you know? What was it, that time you gave it to me? It was for my hair, something for my hair. Do you remember what it was called? I've forgotten."

"Was it a cream, oil, or lotion?"

"You gave it to me. It was wonderful. It’s not in Denmark. It's there. ooa, ooa, ooa. Then you arrive at a place. What is that? All arrive there.”

“isn’t it an ambulance? Hospital?” The shopkeeper said.

“I don't remember what. I'd recognize it if I saw it again. I use it here." She patted the top of her head.

The shopkeeper showed her several hair treatments but none rang a bell. Then she went over to the spices section.

"It's for cooking. It tastes wonderful, I wrap it."

The shopkeeper took a spring roll out of the freezer and showed it to her. "This is for the wrap."

"No, sweetheart, that's not. I have it."

"What can it be then? I really can't remember what you bought last time you came in."

"The lady knows, the lady knows."

"What lady? Who is it?

"She's here, I don't know her name, she's here."

The woman took her mobile out from her pocket and pressed a number. "Sweetheart, what was the name? Do you remember?"

She was speaking to the person at the other end. "Wait, wait, talk to Muses, my dear."

She handed the phone over. "Hello? Do you have green bananas, Muses?"

"Yes, I have. Are you Christine?"

"Yes, it's me, Muses. Charity is asking for something but I don't know what it is. Do you know? Do you help her?"

"No, I don't know what it could be but I can be with you in five minutes. I am on the way to you."

The shopkeeper handed back the phone. "She'll be here in a few minutes." He said to her.

"Thank you, dear. She knows what I want. Who was she? Did she say?"

" Christine. She was Christine."

"I'll remember her when I see her," Charity said. "My daughter's name is also  Christine. She lives in the USA. You've met her before."

"Your daughter's name is Cherry and she lives in the UK, not in the USA."

"Yes, that's right. Didn't I tell Cherry? Did I tell you?"

"I don't have much time, Muses, my bus leaves soon." Christine came to the shop.

"Please give me a plastic bag."

The shopkeeper gave her a plastic bag.

She busied herself filling it with green bananas. "How much?" She handed the bag to him.

"My dear!  What's that? It tastes good." The charity said to Christine.

"I think she wants that Michuzi mix (1)?"

Leaning over towards the shopkeeper Christine muttered in a low voice, "What's she doing here? She was being looked after in the hospital. Why is she out?"

Muses shrugged. "I don't know. She was trying to find some hair cream."

"Which brand?"

"She can't remember."

“Isn’t it an oil?” Christine asked Charity.

“Yes. Dear. It’s oil.”

“Give her a Miracle hair oil. I saw it on her desk one day.”

“I do.” The shopkeeper said.

"Yes, dear, it tastes very good. Very good," Charity solicited.

"Does she mean Michuzi mix?" The shopkeeper asked.

"I really don't know. Look, I've got to go, my bus is due. I know, give her that oil." Christine said goodbye and left.

The charity was trying hard to recall the name of the spice and was rummaging through the shelves. "I'll bring the empty container along tomorrow."

"OK, my dear, do that." the shopkeeper said.

"Yes, yes, I'll do that. You gave it to me last time. It's here, it's here." She poked out her tongue again.

"Aha, I need a phone card. Where is it? You must help me load it in."

The shopkeeper did as she asked.

"Aha, that's it." She handed over the money and left.

Some in the African community gossiped about Charity's condition. They thought that back in her own country she'd accidentally eaten poisoned herbs or drank contaminated water. Some idea said somebody spelled her. Even if they burned Albany (2) for throwing out the Jujus of her body(3).  She should talk with an old witch doctor or consult with an experienced predictor. But her doctor dismissed all these theories and said she was suffering from dementia.

As the shopkeeper was packing up for the day the phone rang. It was Charity. She'd lost her plastic bag. Had she left it at the shop? He searched everywhere. "Sorry, dear Charity, it's not here. Where are you calling from?"

"I'm on the bus. Oh, dear." She rang off.

Later, around midnight, when the shopkeeper was in bed in his room, his mobile phone rang.

"Muses?

"Yes, please."

"It's from the police station."

"We've got a woman here. She's lost her handbag with her ID but she has your card in her pocket. Do you know her? Where does she live?"

"Is she called Charity?"

"She calls herself Cherry." Policeman said.

"That's her daughter's name. She was in my shop today. I don't know her address but I've got the number of a woman who does. She's called Christine." He gave the policeman the number.

"Thank you." The policeman said.

The day after when Muses opened his shop he found Charity and another woman waiting on the doorstep. Charity had on a gray wig and gray gloves.

"Sweetheart, I've got this lady with me."

"Good morning, Charity. How are you, my dear?"

"I'm OK, sweetheart. How are you?"

"I'm OK too. Sorry about the last day, you lost your shopping and your handbag."

"She left them on the bus and the driver handed them in to the police," her attendant said.

"I'm delighted to hear it. What can I do to help, my dear?"

Charity took out lipstick from her handbag, an empty cream jar, and an eyelash. "Aha, sweetheart, I want some of these. I like them so much. The cream is really good for my hair."She handed them to the shopkeeper and went off to look at the wigs in the corner.

The shopkeeper found everything and put them on the counter. The attendant added a black wig and an African comb.

"Aha, that's better," said Charity. "A gray wig makes me look old."

The shopkeeper totted up the bill and the attendant got the money from the Charities handbag. "I am her adviser. Yesterday, she was out of the hospital without permission. Oh, she also needs face cream and body lotion, if it's available!"

He got them from the beauty section. "She can use these quite safely. I remember she's used them before." The shopkeeper said.

"Aha, that's what I was looking for last year."

"Last year! Haven't you been here for one year? The shopkeeper smiled. No, my dear Charity, it was yesterday, not last year."

"Aha, that's right. Remember, sweetheart. Next year, I'll have all these again. I'd like to send some money to my daughter for her birthday. Here is my money transfer card."

She handed the card to the shopkeeper. "Please add: mom loves you." She said and she started crying.

(1) Michuzi mix: a type of mixed spices from Uganda

(2) Ubbany: safety in dry form from a type of tree, they believe by burning that material all bad spirits leave the ill persons.

(3) JuJu: both bad and good spirits
KZ