Annan NKuma’s visits to the orphanage had become a weekly pilgrimage. On the pretext of following the progress of the work, this open window on the past allowed to reconnect for a brief moment with his missing wife. He could feel her presence in these places she had built and loved, and which, after years of neglect, were finally being reborn, ready for a second life. He looked around, remembering the dilapidated appearance of the place, imagining what it would become.

Located an hour from Accra, the center was about to be reinvented. The clay houses with thatched roofs underwent extensive renovation, consolidation and painting, with the installation of sanitary facilities, drinking water and electricity. The dormitories were also transformed, with rooms fitted with mosquito nets to protect the children, while the exteriors were given gardens with trees and flowers, as well as recreational and sports facilities. The site was in total disrepair, and the arrival of this mysterious Swiss patron, who contributing to its rebirth, honored Fathia’s memory.

Strolling through the courtyard, he recalled the laughter of his young boarders, reacting to the guitar chords and songs played in the evenings on his wife’s initiative. This image took him back to the American girl, and how the precious, sweet, innocent friend was linked to the painful disappearance. He was torn, a feeling of anger invaded him, awakening the need for vengeance, yet without being able to identify a culprit, a target, or a lead.