“Ah, but these new prices aren’t any better?”
“Is that all? Oh!”
“Are they serious right now?”
“But these prices are no better than what we boycotted these shops for!”
“They have deceived us!”
Accra Central was very busy that afternoon, particularly around the Opera Square, the commercial hub of the city. The boycott organized by Nii Kwabena Bonne had finally come to an end, and many people, buoyed by the announcement given a few days ago, had made their way to the shops, ready to purchase from their favourite stores at a lower price.
What a shocker they were in for.
Many had been led astray by the statement that the shops had agreed to a 50% reduction in price margin and had interpreted it to mean that the prices would be reduced by fifty percent. So when they entered the shops to discover that the prices had not been slashed by half, they were not pleased at all.
Justice and Kofi were part of those disappointed buyers. Standing behind a number of unhappy customers in one of the reopened shops called Burki Trading, they grumbled at this unexpected turn of events.
“Ah, so these people deceived us or something?” Justice murmured. “Coz these prices are not any better than what we started the boycott for!”
“They’re not! Ah, these white people are really taking us for fools!” Kofi fumed. “What is the meaning of this? Ah! Just when my father was in need of the green Mentholatum. This amount he’s given me diɛɛ, it won’t be enough.”
“Hmmm. The Nestle Lactogen and Saturday Night Powder they’ve asked me to get won’t be possible with this money. Ah, we’ve been duped!”
***
“Ei, they say some ex-servicemen have been shot dead oo!”
“Chale, some old soldiers have been killed oo!”
“I saw it myself! The officer shot the soldiers. A whole lot of them too ooo!”
News was filtering in about the shooting that had just occurred at Christiansborg Road. Some eyewitnesses had made their way to the central part of Accra and were wasting no time spreading the word about what the colonial police superintendent had done to the ex-servicemen.
“Herh, these white people, what is wrong with them?”
“You make us suffer in our own country, now you are killing us on top? These foreigners paaa, herh!”
Fury was rising as shoppers moved in and out of the numerous stores, and the news coming in was only fanning the flames.
In Burki Trading, where Kofi and Justice stood, many shoppers remained, voicing out furiously on the prices.
“LISTEN, LISTEN!” a voice called out in the midst of the noise. Everyone grew silent and turned to the one who had just yelled.
It was a Lebanese gentleman. Most likely a manager of the store.
“Look, these are final new prices. We agree on these new prices before end of boycott. If you don’t like, get out of the shop now! These are new prices in accordance with agreement…”
“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that! How dare you…”
If the manager thought his words would get the aggrieved shoppers to mellow and humbly move out, he was dead wrong.
Before he knew it, the anger had boiled over into chaos.
As a number of young men lunged at him, he turned and tried to run away. He wasn’t fast enough, though.
The men descended upon him, knocking him to the floor as they began to kick him violently.
Shoppers around the store began grabbing at the items on the shelves, gathering whatever they could lay their hands on.
Roars of ‘Enough is Enough’ and ‘We are tired!’ erupted.
It was official.
All hell had broken loose.
***
“Justice! Chale, Justice, take the Lactogen and the powder! Hurry!”
Kofi didn’t need to repeat himself; his good friend had already swept about five tins off the shelf and was reaching for the powder. With two containers of the green Mentholatum in his arms, he and Justice were as charged as everyone else in the shop.
The absolute nerve of the manager to talk to them like they were troublesome little kids!
“Where persuasion fails, force is applied,” Kofi murmured to himself as he and Justice moved out of the store, their arms filled with the looted goods. “You people think you can make things hard for us and kill us and get away with it? We’ll also make things hard for you and kill you and your business! Nonsense!”
***
If anyone thought the scenes at Burki Trading were bad, they would be stunned to know that it was probably one store least affected.
The meltdown had officially taken place.
Many shoppers were moving in and out of stores with many goods in their arms. Windows and glass doors of the various stores had been smashed to bits. Store attendants were ducking for cover as stones freely flew through the air into their shops. Stores like the Union Trading Company (UTC), A.G. Leventis, and the United Africa Company (UAC) were under savage ravaging.
But the outrage wasn’t just directed at the shops. The upheaval was taking place on the streets as well.
And nobody was safe.
Not the Chief Accountant of the General Post Office and his staff, who had to take cover from the stones thrown by the rioters at the building.
Not the police officers meant to maintain order, who looked pretty helpless as the rioters ran amok.
Not the average Kojo minding his business and trying to escape the various missiles flying about.
And certainly not the average Joe on the road, as their cars were surrounded by angry Gold Coasters, banging on the roofs and yelling ‘Whiteman, go home!’
This was it.
Gold Coasters had had enough, and they were venting their frustrations for all to see.
The riots are underway! The power of the people cannot be bridled forever!
