Milla

Milla was a Norwegian girl, who appeared out of nowhere one sunny day.

First, Salakka thought she might be another volunteer – so often some american short-term visitors came to the Home and wanted to do something small with the kids (this save-the-world-in-one-day -volunteerism is a pretty absurd phenomenom, by the way, but doesn't really belong to this story). Anyway, Milla turned out to be a student, who was doing research for her degree in the university. She was hoping to interview the boys in the Home.

That day, the other girls had gone somewhere, and Salakka was showing the place to Milla and took her to the pastor to explain what she wanted. They immediately got along together (Milla and Salakka, not the pastor) and Salakka was happy when Milla said she'd come back soon to continue on her research.

Milla was the best thing that had happened for some time. She was, shortly, great. She had come to Ghana with her one-and-a-half-year-old son, whose dad was Nigerian, for six months. They had made it very well on their own here, and had got to know a lot of people. They were now renting a room from a lady not far from the Home. Which was also great. A lot of beach days, drinks at the nearby Spot, good talks and shared moments were yet to come.

Milla was strong and free. It was easy to talk with her about pretty much anything and her attitude towards life made Salakka feel good too. Milla was understanding and positive about things, but the same time she was clever, critical in a healthy way, and not afraid to speak frankly. Somehow, she reminded Salakka of her own strong and positive self, which had at some moments been buried under all the heavy things.

It was with Milla that Salakka found a nice beach she hadn't been to before, and with Milla she tried to go to a yoga lesson of which she had seen an ad on the roadside. It was with Milla that she talked about life, people, things they couldn't understand here, about big and small stuff. With Milla she laughed on things and, occasionally, cried about others. They didn't even meet all that often, but they became close, and they had a lot of fun.

She laughed when Milla was annoyed with a local guy questioning them at the busstop and told the man they were from Croatia. Milla laughed at her, when she got furious to the man who had told them about the yoga lesson and given a wrong time – on purpose, Salakka claimed, wanting just to meet white girls (the man was laughing, too).

They also looked at the culture here in a similar way, and so they were able to share points of view and understood each others' experiences. Also when it came to people and relationships, they got each other well, and shared thoughts and feelings about, for example, men.

When Salakka was sick, Milla was the one who came with a taxi to take her to a good, private hospital she knew. And to Milla she called, when she realized it was May Day's eve, a big party in Finland.

”It's May Day tomorrow! Klara vappen!”

”What?”

”Don't you celebrate it in Norway?”

”No.”

”Well, anyway, that's when Finnish people go out and get drunk.”

”Let's go and get drunk!”

”Yeah!”
”Only, I might not get a baby sitter...”

”And I don't think I can drink while I'm still on malaria medication...”

They didn't go out that night, and they never got drunk together. But she had Milla to call on May Day's eve, and that was something. That was a lot.