6th March 1948.

Days had passed since the start of the riots. It had gone on for a couple of days, but eventually, the colonial government restored law and order. Extra troops had been brought in to quell the trouble. The rioters had been cleared off the streets, and calm had been reinstated in the capital.

***

Kofi sat in the corner of his room, crying loudly and bitterly.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. It just wasn’t.

The plan was to loot just that store, then they’d be done. Everything had worked so smoothly in the past few days.

Why did death have to rear its ugly, unwanted head in this?

Now his dear friend was no more.

He had rushed back to the store after he and the looters had escaped from the store manager’s deadly outburst, only to find his friend lying limp on the floor. In a panic, he tried, unsuccessfully, to revive him. With a few others, they carried him off to the nearest hospital.

He was announced dead on arrival.

Days had passed, and Kofi just could not face the Morrison family. How could he tell them he led their son to loot one of the Levantine-owned stores in town and had lost him to a fatal gunshot attack, and expect that they would open their arms to him?

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. They probably already despised his very existence.

As he sobbed bitterly in his room, nothing but unfulfilled wishes and desires plagued his brain. Wishes and desires that would never translate into reality.

I’m sorry, Justice. I’m sorry I led you to this early grave. I’m sorry, so sorry…

***

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! JUSTICE EYYYYYYYYY! MY SON! WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME? HOW DO I LIVE WITHOUT MY SON! EY! EY! EY! I’M DEAD!”

Finding yourself in a mortuary is definitely a humbling and traumatizing experience. But anyone in and around the Rostock Mortuary at that moment would be left severely affected by the level of grief unfolding before them.

A line of lifeless bodies lay before the fridges for identification, all victims of gunshot wounds in the midst of the riots. The body of Justice was one of such corpses, and his family was present to identify him.

And Mrs. Morrison was a bundle of inconsolable grief.

How could the young man she had nursed as a child now be lying there, with no breath in his body? How could the boy who promised her he would do all he could to help her when he succeeded in life now be a lifeless corpse she would have to see buried?

“JUSTICE! JUSTICE! GET UP! PLEASE! I’M HERE, MY SON! I’M READY TO TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU! JUSTICE, GET UP! PLEASE, MY SON, PLEASE!”

The Morrison family might not have been the only family present in the mortuary at that moment. But nobody was having a breakdown as emotionally taxing and distressful as Justice’s mother. Grief had swallowed her up like the deepest of seas, and she wasn’t going to rise to the surface any time soon.

As she rolled on the floor, screaming and yelling in deep agony, her family members trying to control her and failing miserably, this was the saddest sight anyone around the mortuary would witness that day.

Justice Morrison, a young man frustrated with the colonial government of the day, had participated in the riots, making it known that he was unhappy with the state of affairs. Unfortunately, in the midst of his style of protest, he was shot by a store owner.

And he didn’t survive.

***

“And what have you gotten out of it? Ehh? Is it not just gunshot wounds you’ve received out of all this? When I say all this is not necessary, you sit there and say ‘we have to fight for our rights’ and ‘we must show them’. But look! Look at all the destruction and misbehaviour that’s gone on! This isn’t the right way, it isn’t! Will these white people suddenly leave us alone because of this? Of course not!”

Nii Amarteifio squeezed his eyes shut as he lay back in the chair and resisted the urge to spring to his feet and ruthlessly backhand his wife. She had been popping off the past couple of weeks about how wrong everybody was to ‘take matters into their own hands’ ever since he had come back home, and she had gotten louder and more irritating with each passing day.

His statement at the hospital had definitely hit a nerve, as he had anticipated. But her reaction was wearing thin on him, and at any point now, he was ready to snap.

“Me, I kept saying it ooo, and I’ll keep saying it. There’s no point in all this rebellion. None at all. Just leave it up to God! You think He doesn’t know what is going on? You think He doesn’t have a plan? Didn’t He free the Israelites from the Egyptians His own way? Look at what has happened now! You people are just running ahead of God and expecting it to work! That’s not wisdom!”

Nii Amarteifio felt something in him snap. He shook his head.

That breaking point had finally come. He was utterly and totally tired of these senseless, unintelligent ramblings.

I can’t take this rubbish anymore! Look at this stupid woman tell me about not using wisdom!

He rose to his feet and slowly moved toward the door.

Naa Anyema, who had been standing by his chair while dishing out her lengthy rebuke, watched him in confusion. “Ah, but where are you going?”

“Go and ask God where I’m going. Idiot!”

Naa Anyema gasped. If there was one thing she never heard from her husband’s mouth, it was an insult in her direction. “Ei, Nii, so now you are insulting me?”

“And why wouldn’t I insult you? Foolish fool. Look, this your nonsense about leaving it to God has hit my eardrums long enough. Since you seem to believe so much in Him and that He has a plan for us, from now onwards, look to Him for your money, okay? Don’t even dare stand in front of me and tell me you need money for anything. You say we should leave everything to God, right? So look to Him for money, I’m sure you’ll get it as soon as you ask. As for me, I’ll keep asking those that need to be asked.”

Amazement was written on Naa Anyema’s face. “Ah, but Nii, you know that’s not how it works-“

“OH, GET AWAY WITH HOW IT WORKS! STUPID IDIOT!”

Nii Amarteifio’s roar froze the argument in her voice box. He was livid, and looked ready to use his good hand to deliver some dirty slaps to her face.

“You now want to tell me that’s not how what works. Foolishness! Don’t make me come and slap you left, right, and center. After talking rubbish, you now want to explain how whatever works. Rubbish! If you like, from this day forward, come and tell me that we need money for this and that. You’ll see what I’ll do to you. Useless fool! All you know is how to say that God will do this and that. Idiot woman! Ask me for money again and see if I won’t throw you and your liabilities out of my house. Kwashia buulu!”

Unmoved by the tears of his wife, he glared at her as she broke down, cut by the harsh words from her husband’s mouth.

“You are now crying. You are now crying. Look, spare me those silly tears, I won’t be moved by your foolish attempts to make me feel bad. I don’t feel bad about anything, and I won’t. And from now on, if you are a woman born of a woman, open your mouth and tell me that we should leave whatever whatever to God, and see if I don’t beat you up! Idiot!”

With that, he stormed out.

***

“My trees! My precious cocoa trees!”

Efo Avudega wailed loudly, tears in his eyes as he observed the sorry sight in front of him.

Behind him stood David, Elorm, Mustapha and Mohammed, all with their hands on their heads and despondency imprinted upon their faces.

It had happened. In spite of their best efforts, the inevitable had occurred.

Their cocoa trees had been cut down.

Efo Norman’s boys had been remanded for a couple of days at the Adukrom Police Station, and the patriarch had done everything he could to see to it that his sons and farm helpers were released without any charges proffered against them.

Unfortunately, in the midst of doing all that, he had left the farm unattended to. As most of their encounters with Adukrom’s most popular farmer had been unpleasant, a lot of the Agricultural Department staff did not like him, and once word was out that his farm had been ignored somewhat, some members of the cutting-out squads wasted no time in heading for the farm and cutting down virtually every tree in sight. It didn’t matter if the cocoa tree was diseased or healthy; as long as it was on the Avudega farm, it had to go down to teach Efo Norman a lesson.

Indeed, they had hit the old man where it hurt the most. As he was on his knees, crying his heart out at the pitiful sight of his vanquished farm, he was truly a defeated man.

His farm had been destroyed, and it would take years to restore it to its former glory.

***

“Hmmm. What a crazy couple of days it’s been,” Michael commented at the table where he and his mates always had their beer.

“Indeed. It’s been crazy these past couple of days,” Emmanuel agreed. “Who would’ve thought we’d have a nationwide meltdown this massive? Nobody could have predicted it to be like this.”

“True. I have to be honest, though, I’m surprised the whole price increase thing went over our heads like that,” Yaw admitted. “Seriously, I never thought about the ‘profit margin’ thing like that. We all got excited for nothing.”

“It’s really sad. But at least they’ve now done proper reducing of the prices of goods,” Emmanuel remarked. “And that godforsaken AWAM group has been dissolved. Thank goodness for that!”

“Oh yes! Those AWAM people di33, bad luck people!” Michael said. “By the way, Yaw, what happened with the ex-servicemen’s thing?”

Yaw sighed as he placed his glass down. “Hmmmm. According to my sources, the Governor will soon be responding to the petition they sent. I’m sure they’ll just be giving all sorts of assurances that they will attend to their matters and all that talk. As to whether they will actually go ahead and implement all those things, I doubt.”

“But won’t they deal with that Imray fool for killing precious soldiers?” Michael asked.

Yaw shrugged. “No idea ooo. I won’t be shocked if they don’t do anything to him.”

Emmanuel shook his head. “Such a disgrace! After killing innocent men who you’ve ignored and left to their fate, you let their killers go scot-free? Ah ah ah! This life!”

“Hmmmm, my brother, it’s pathetic. Extremely pathetic,” Yaw said. “But see, in all honesty, I’m so grateful to Twediampong Nyame that all this happened. You know why?”

The two, looking a bit surprised, shook their heads.

“I have the strongest feeling that this just might be the catalyst we need to be free from these people.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Saa?”

“Oh yes! See eh, I see these events spurring us on to freedom. I think this will push the UGCC men to fight harder for self-governance, and I can sense that this is just the beginning of a long but successful battle.

“Mmmm,” the two murmured.

“My friends, trust me, with the way things have gone, the fight won’t be stopped any time soon, and it shouldn’t! We don’t want the blood of Sergeant Adjetey, Corporal Attipoe, and Private Odartey Lamptey to have been shed in vain, do we?”

They vigorously shook their heads. “Absolutely not!” Michael responded. “No way should those ex-soldiers die in vain. Good must come out of it!”

“But the UGCC people, I hear the government is planning to arrest them oo,” Emmanuel added.

“Oh yeah. It’s true. They’ll soon be issuing removal orders; it’s in the pipeline. But look, these actions won’t make people cower and retreat into submission. Gold Coasters will just rise up and make their anger known again! These British rulers eh, their days of ruling over us are numbered. They can try and suppress our voices, but trust me, it’s the beginning of the end for them. We know what we want now, and no matter who leads this charge, we won’t stop till we get it.”

Michael and Emmanuel nodded, feeling inspired by the words of their friend. He was absolutely right.

“The road to freedom from these colonial people won’t be easy, I won’t lie. I have a feeling they will be pushing back on our demands. The resistance will be heavy. But it will be futile. Mark my words, it might be long, but one day, we’ll be free from these colonizers, and we’ll show the world that the black man, no matter what they think, is capable of managing his own affairs.”

THE END

Well, the road to freedom was indeed long and tough. But indeed, Gold Coast became independent, and is now the country we call Ghana! A great honour to produce something that recounts the history of our motherland!

Thanks for reading, and as always, enjoy yourself around the State!