by Samuel Cobby Grant
AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022
President Aaron Awuku leaned back in the Presidential Chair and regarded his Secretary gravely as he stood stiffly in front of the largest table in the world.
His Secretary, Major General Fiifi Brew stood at attention and stared straight ahead. He knew from past experiences that a whole lot of issues were going on in his head about the folder in front of him. He was in awe of the President, and he was quite surprised when he received a call from him to be his Secretary, a position he hadn’t applied for. He hadn’t even coveted it. He had served his country well and he had dedicated his life in service to God and country and was looking forward to his eventual retirement when he was slam-dunked into the Gold House, the Presidential Palace. He was honoured to serve his country at the Seat of Government and was equally honoured to serve no less a person than His Excellency Aaron Awuku himself whose meteoric rise to the highest position in the land seemed to be ordained from on high.
He was an Assemblyman for a year, and an MP the next. Four years later, he became the President. The President of one of the most powerful and prosperous nations of the world.
His inauguration had sent shivers down the spines of rogue nations who were in no doubt that he was going to take his country to the highest level ever.
He was the last child of his parents, and his other siblings, a male and a female worshipped him as if he was the Almighty God himself. His creative writer father was posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature just a year before his election as President by a landslide victory.
Every Head of State around the world was at the inauguration, an occurrence unheard of in the history of the world. Even the US President, his major critic had thought it prudent to attend.
It was an inauguration that was as magnificent as it was spectacular.
His inaugural speech had been the kind of speech that had made every single Ghanaian proud of his or her heritage. It was delivered succinctly and with such mastery of words that it left no one in any doubt that he was a powerful orator. His ”It’s time for Ghana to leave the world behind in advancement” had received such thunderous and resounding ovation that he had had to wait for about five minutes before he could continue.
“Let’s show the world the reason why we are Ghanaians,” he had concluded, and again, his audience had responded with a massive standing ovation from most of the people present.
Three Heads of State, including the Germans, were the last to get to their feet, and the look on their faces was a sight not worthy to behold. They turned to look at each other, and the German President said something with fury on his face. The others nodded in agreement and it was obvious they were planning something diabolical.
President Awuku’s two years in office had seen him improving the lots of every single Ghanaian.
He had first scrapped all the Ministries and had established just five in their place. It was now only the Ministry of Communication, Ministry of World Affairs, the Ministry of Defence, the Ministry of Sports and Cultural Renaissance and the Ministry of Strategic Thinking.
Most of the former Ministries had been downgraded into mere Departments and placed under the Ministry of Home Affairs: like the Roads and Transport, Fuel and Power, Justice. Even the Agriculture and Industries were now under the Ministry of Strategic Thinking (MOST).
Unlike his predecessors, he had not bowed to pressure to assign positions to party loyalists alone but to competent and patriotic Ghanaians, and developments had gone on at a fast pace.
He had continued with his predecessor’s policy of not allowing Ghana’s resources to be exported in its crude or raw form. He had also refused to let multinationals and foreign companies invest in the case country unless they were in partnership with credible Ghanaian companies and entrepreneurs and the country had experienced progress at a pace never seen before in its entire history. The Ntentan Tube, a special underground train system that had been constructed to link all the major cities and towns and it had reduced the worrisome traffic congestion in the country.
All these and more went through the head of the Major General as he waited patiently.
President Awuku presently raised his head, opened the folder and said, “Let the Germans know that the loan they are asking for cannot be given to them. This is due to their poor human rights records. Their treatment of the Franc refugees wasn’t good at all.”
“Yes, Sir!. I will let the Consul know about it as soon as possible,” General Fiifi Brew said and saluted smartly, turned about and left.
“They think that money grows on the shores of Chorkor and Korle Gonno,” he mused, referring to the ultra-modern beaches with their condos that were the preferred tourist destination of the world’s super-rich.
He sighed tiredly and imputed a 12 digit code on his computer and his office, together with his table and everything in it, slid down 20 storeys to the bunker he had as his residence where he lived with Sekuwah his wife and their 3 children, a girl, 12 years old and the twins, 6 years old.
“Daddy, are you there?” He heard the voice of Naaki, his daughter asking impatiently as his office settled down.
“Yes, darling, I’m here,” he responded and smiled.
The door opened and his lovely wife entered first but their three children quickly ran past their mother but she pulled them back and embraced her husband who had already left the chair he was sitting on and was standing with open arms. She embraced him but the kids came between them and dislodged her from her husband, giving him their hugs. Both mother and kids jovially fought for his attention. He opened a drawer on his table and gave them gifts he had gotten from the Ghana Products Mall at Haatso, where high-quality local products were sold to the discerning buyer
“I have missed you so,” Sekuwah said after the kids left to open their presents.
“So have I,” he said and kissed her deeply, his stress vanishing like a whiff of air.
“We are in your office,” she said after a little while, her face inflamed with passion.
He swooped her up in his arms and took her into the very large and magnificent bedroom with its state of the art fittings.
“I still can’t believe that I am in bed with the President,” she said drowsily after they were done with satisfying each other’s passions.
“Me too. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would have sex with the First Lady,” he replied, cradling her in the crook of his arm.
“Hmmm. Happiness has been my life from the first time I met you,” she said dreamily.
“And I will do all I can to give you the world,” he said lovingly.
“This brings to mind the time you used to promise to give me Ghana,” she said and smiled
“Yes, and the people of Ghana adore you.”
“You actually fulfilled your promise when you became President.”
And I have you to thank for loyally being by my side through thick and thin. I love you, First Lady.”
“ I love you, Mr President.”
This story is an AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022 entry. Remember to drop your comments and share the links widely.
A WEEK LATER
The tourists stared out of the windows of the luxury bus as it took them through the 6 tier overpass at Chorkor Lante Mamli.
In just ten years, Chorkor had been transformed into a modern neighbourhood. Chorkor now had six-lane asphalt roads and skyscrapers of not less than 15 storeys, an ultra-modern Olympic size Sports Stadium. The neighbourhood had been so transformed that it was the envy of the world
What really made Chorkor stand out was its clean beaches with its luxury hotels and Casinos that had surpassed Las Vegas in every aspect of the Gambling Industry. It had even hosted the World Surfing Competition for three consecutive years because it offered the ideal weather conditions all year round. The worst of Chorkor’s weather was better than the best of Europe’s.
In fact, the whole City of Accra was a sight to behold.
The bus made its way to Accra Central, along the Old Winneba Road at Korle Gonno which had also been transformed into a motorway par excellence. It was now a concrete road and an 8 lane one at that and it was designed in such a way that one always had a funny feeling of actually driving on the sea itself. Jamestown had also been razed down and rebuilt with modern structures, and the tourists, who were mostly Europeans, fed their eyes sometimes with envy and awe as they arrived at the city centre.
The Presidential Palace known as the Gold House was a beauty to behold. It was shaped like a sea shell and it looked as if it was suspended in the air from afar and its gold outlook glowed in the rising sun. It becomes light brown in the afternoon and almost invisible at night. It was designed by the world-famous architect, Mr Kwame Mbeah. He was also the one who designed and built the House of Parliament which was rumoured to be the most practical of its kind in the world.
Every Parliamentarian had his or her own Office, a research team of four, a 4 bedroom accommodation with the latest sophisticated communication gadgets ever. It was rumoured that he rejected large sums of money to build similar structures for other nations. The tourist bus now turned towards the Ministries which had been constructed to mirror the needs of the country, with the Ministers living in their respective Ministries.
David Muller, one of the tourists gaped at all these in wondrous amazement, hardly believing that just one country could develop at such a fast pace.
Now Ghana was the place to be for higher education and the best medical care. It was the best in all fields of endeavours, be it Health, Engineering, Agriculture and even in the field of Sports. It had won the FIFA World Cup five times in the last twenty-four years.
The bus made a circular turn at Osu and parked in front of the World Tourists Hotel, with its magnificent view of Accra. The Management of the hotel had conveniently placed telescopes at the penthouse restaurant for patrons to marvel at the scenic beauty of the city
“This is what political stability brings to a nation,” David Muller said to himself as he made himself comfortable at a table to make his order from the electronic top of the table. He imputed his orders on the lighted square screen at the centre of the table and pressed SEND. He had chosen his meal carefully as only the Ghanaians could afford most of the items on the menu. His meagre salary as a soon-to-be interpreter of the German Consulate needed to be guarded carefully.
His food arrived and he enjoyed his meal of fried cocoyam with hot pepper and fried tilapia. They had a leisurely meal as they were going to spend the night at that hotel. It was only after the meal that he discovered to his dismay that he had lost his wallet. He was petrified and was wondering how he was going to pay for the meal and his other expenses when a classy lady who had just gotten there and had heard about his dilemma offered to pay for him
“Thank you, ma’am, God bless,” he said with gratitude.
“Don’t worry about your wallet. It shall be found and returned to you,” she assured him and smiled.
“I hardly think so,” he said, from his experiences in other countries “whoever took it is long gone”
“Please be assured that there are no pickpockets in Accra and your purse would be tracked from the routes you took from the time you landed in the country,” she said, smiled and asked the waiter to serve him with a refreshing glass of asaana.
“I am most grateful to you, ma’am,” he had said, astonishment clearly shown on his face at this first-hand demonstration of the well talked about Akwaaba mantra
“Anyway, I am Ataa Adjoa, Secretary to the Secretary of the President,” she said and gave him her card.
“Oh, that’s nice. I am David Muller, a staff of the German Consulate and an interpreter.”
This story is an AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022 entry. Remember to drop your comments and share the links widely.[insert-comment-form]
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AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022