THE PATRIOT
by Samuel Cobby Grant
Â
EPISODE 2
AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022
Â
The President was really pissed at the vain attempts by the middle-class countries of Europe to infiltrate his government.
“How can they even think they can succeed,” he thought, as he sat in his office perusing the security brief in front of him.
“So when their weapons fell into the sea due to the defence systems I have, which even couldn’t have caused a dent in my defences, they still have the audacity to try other means,” he said, his mind on the computerized defence systems codenamed AMFA ENFIRI put up by the patriotic scientists of defence apparatus.
It had a mind of its own and it could automatically destroy any cruise or ballistic weapon, be it nuclear or conversational as soon as it enters the very edges of Ghanaian territory.
 He sighed and summoned his secretary and had a meeting with the heads of the other arms of government. The thing was he wanted to pitch the idea of building helipads in all the communities of the country and with their accompanying helicopters to aid rapid mobility from one community to the other in place of tro tro.
Also, he wanted their help on how the necessary legislation could be drafted in conformity with the aviation industry rules. And he also wanted to make sure it was as affordable as tro tro.
Though he had already discussed it with his Cabinet, his policy of inclusiveness demanded that he sought their take on it.
Though the Head of the Judiciary, Attorney General Yoofi Robert was a former rival in the primaries, he knew him as a pragmatic and upright person and he was going to say his mind regardless of the consequences.
It was on record that his choice in the man had raised a few eyebrows but he had gone ahead to make him the top lawyer of the country.
As for the Speaker of the House of Legislature, Tetteh Sappor, though he was of a different political group, his astuteness and patriotism and his stance to stand for what was right and proper was legendary.
Â
“Please send them in.”
Â
 “I don’t know why you brought me here at such short notice but I must say that this refreshing Sobolo you have served me with would not make me agree with you if I think what you have in mind is not right for the State,” the Speaker of Parliament said and took another long pull of the drink.
Â
“I know, and I know also that you love Ghana more than anything else,” he replied, unperturbed.
Â
The Attorney General said nothing, he relaxed in his seat and waited for the President to make his move.
He got up and they followed, clutching their mugs full of Sobolo and took them to the Nsaman Ntroba Garden where they sat on comfortable benches under the swaying branches of nim trees.
He then told them about his idea and they liked it at once and even applauded him for his foresightedness. There really was nothing to discuss. It was okay for both of them and AG promised to have a draft of the relevant laws on his table within twenty-four hours
Â
“With this, I’ll make sure that Parliament passed it through quickly,” the Speaker said sounding happy.
Â
“Thank you, gentlemen, for heeding to my call…”
Â
But the Speaker cut in smoothly, “Is that all? Didn’t the First Lady cook today?”
Â
“I thought you weren’t going to ask,” the President said and smiled. He beckoned to a bodyguard and whispered to him. He nodded once and left. Within thirty minutes, they had been served and were enjoying the fufu and akrantse light soup which the First Lady had prepared herself. She didn’t believe in someone else cooking for her husband, the President.
Â
 _A WEEK LATER_
The President didn’t believe any bad news being in the political realm but he believed that some news and occurrences were irritating though. He was as such, highly irritated when some Intelligence got to his attention about a group known as the Bring Back The Good Old Days.
Their Leader, Kweku Olasty a firebrand of 35 years of age who had been one of the beneficiaries of the Fee Free Tertiary Education. He had read Political Science much to the displeasure of his ageing parents who had wanted him to do Agricultural Science to help manage their farm but he had had his way.
He could afford to do so as he had paid neither fees nor bought any books up to the time he was done with his Master’s Degree. He and others who shared his views felt that the country was heading into a disaster and there was the need for a complete turnaround.
They had made their intentions known to the Police of the intended demonstration. The authorities weren’t perturbed. They knew that the vast majority of Ghanaians were satisfied with their living conditions.
Â
“I am sure they wouldn’t even get hundred people to join them,” said Yaw Mensah the Minister for Home Affairs when he was summoned to the Presidency.
Â
“How so?” The President asked.
Â
“Isn’t it obvious?” The Minister asked and continued, “The people of Ghana are now living in the best homes, every household now have more than one W/C and they now have access to free good quality medical care, regardless of any medical condition,” he had said, getting quite agitated.
“So you think they’ll not join because of these things?” the President asked with a patronizing smile.
“Yes. Through your good policies, we have given the world a permanent cure for AIDS, and we are on the threshold of finding a cure for the Video Virus.”
“All these things you have enumerated cannot stop them from exercising their right to demonstrate,” the President said, ending the meeting.
He sat at his table long after the Minister had left. He thought about the Video Virus. It was like a virus the world had never seen before. It affected only people aged between 15 years and 45 years though some persons above 50 years have been known to contract it, which was the exception other than the rule.
It was named the Video Virus because, in its latter stages of the disease, the infected person walked like a man or woman having sex.
One showed symptoms a month after having sex with an infected person and dies a week after exhibiting symptoms, it had been beating the minds of the world’s leaders and they had been looking up to Ghanaian doctors and scientists to come out with a cure.
Most brothels had gone out of business and the Red Light districts were dying out which wasn’t bad actually.
On the day of the Bring Back the Good Old Days’ demo, they converged at the Osu Salem Gymnastics Dome. The Police were there in their numbers to protect life and property.
The demonstrators wore pieces of cloth tied around the back of their necks in what was known locally as ‘the collar’.
They held placards that read; ‘Bring back the good old days ‘, ‘we need land guards’, ‘we want to buy kooko at the corner’, ‘we miss mosquitoes’, ‘Malaria is better than Video Virus’, ‘the President must go’, ‘Coronavirus is better than Video Virus’.
They chanted war songs as they danced along and beat gong gongs, drums, generally making a lot of noise.
The Police were very professional in ensuring that the demonstrators stuck to the required routes for almost four hours after which they presented a petition to Parliament after which Olasty went to the studios of Ghana Broadcasting Corporation to give an interview.
Â
President Awuku laid back in the seat and stretched his leg tiredly. He had just met with the Vice President of the US and he had promised to make it possible for them to have Ghanaian technology in nano science, as Ghana was the trailblazer in the advanced form of Nano Science, thanks to the efforts of the Ministry of Strategic Thinking.
They now had a bug as tiny as a tomato seed that had an HD camera with 5000 megabytes of memory and it could fly at an incredible speed of 4000 km/h.
Â
There was another, the Pollinator. It had the size of a corn weevil and it could pollinate a 50-acre farm in less than an hour. There were a lot more on the production line making Ghana the world’s leader in agricultural produce.
He glanced at the screen of the large TV at the office which was popularly known as Dan Kɛseɛ. it was showing a playback of the demo and its subsequent interview by Olasty.
He was thankful for a discerning press who had distanced themselves from inter-party affiliations.
Â
IN THE EVENING
David Muller was pleasantly surprised when his lost wallet was given to him by the Lost and Found Department of the Ghana Police Service.
Apparently, it had been found in the restroom of the Gas Station at Chorkor when the bus in which he was had stopped to recharge the battery, being an electronic bus. Everything was intact. His cash, complimentary cards, including his ID cards were all there.
He had immediately called Ataa Adjoa the Secretary, “Thank you, thank you for your immense help. I have gotten back my wallet,” he had said, struck with amazement of how miraculous it was to have gotten it back. It was unheard of in any part of the world.
Â
“That’s alright, it’s normal,” she had said, sounding condescending “I hope you like our City.”
Â
“Yes, very much,” he had said, his voice mirroring his excitement.
Â
“Have you been to the Eco Village at Kwabenya before?” she asked.
Â
“Not yet. Never heard of it,” he replied.
Â
“I will go there. Bring your wife,” she said, inviting him.
Â
“Gee!, I will come. Alone, No wife. No girlfriend either,” he said with excitement at the chance to discover new places.
Â
Meanwhile, at the British Embassy in Accra, the High Commissioner was in a top-level meeting with a man who had arrived in the country barely thirty minutes ago.
He had sat in the Economy Class of Ghana Airways that had flown him in. Though he wasn’t much to look at, he was the Head of the legendary MI5, the British intelligence agency.
The meeting was of a very clandestine nature and even though they were in a soundproof room, their conversations were carried on in undertones.
They discussed the way forward in their quest to unseat Ghana as the most influential nation in the world. The reason they wanted to do that was to destabilise the country and make the citizenry feel discontented with the government, especially the highly successful government of Aaron Awuku.
Â
“I have heard of a certain Kweku Olasty. Can he be trusted to be on our side?” Mr Black, the MI5 man asked.
Â
“Not really. I think he just blows hot air but he can be bought,” the High Commissioner said as a matter of fact.
“And I think he’s a stooge for someone who has remained anonymous up to now.”
Â
“Let’s place some shadows on him. Who knows, he might lead us to interesting people and places,” Mr Black directed.
Â
“Okay. Will do so.”
Â
“Good. Let’s keep our eyes wide open then, and watch out for other options.”
Â
The meeting ended after an hour and Mr Black, now disguised as Mr Pigfeet slipped out of the Embassy to board a British Airways flight to London, extremely satisfied with the tone of the meeting.
Â
But neither he nor the Diplomat had noticed the tiny fly that had perched atop the water dispenser as it electronically relayed audio and video footages it was recording to the strong room at the MOST.
Even before the highly loyal staff of the MOST had picked up the pen drive containing the information, the highly sophisticated computer had printed transcripts of the meeting of the two British citizens.
Â
A meeting of Ghana’s top intelligence analysts was called immediately and counter-measures were taken to forestall anything that could lead to the breach of her security.
Â
The Chief of National Security, Issah Musah, a hero of the War against Imperialism and colonialism swore on his honour to ensure that his dear nation remained unscathed from the ever-present threats of Imperialists and Neo Colonialists.
This story is an AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022 entry. Remember to drop your comments and share the links widely.
[insert-comment-form]
 [stextbox id=”info” caption=”LIKE MY FACEBOOK PAGE“]
https://www.facebook.com/Aaron.Ansah.A/
 AREWAH WRITING CONTEST 2022
https://aaron-ansah-agyeman.com/2022/02/15/arewah-writing-contest-2022/
Â