“Ei, but Hubert, the way Abdallah came for you diɛɛ, it wasn’t easy ooo!”

“Hoh, na he diɛɛ, he likes that. When we are before the Speaker and he’s with his people in the minority, sharp teeth baby mode activated! Abi when we left the chamber, he came to laugh with me and beg me. Don’t mind him, wai. He’s my guy.”

It was evening, and the fancy restaurant opposite the Parliament House was buzzing with the lively chatter of Members of Parliament and other major political figures in Ghana, the air thick with the aroma of both political discourse and other issues, with the occasional waft of laughter.

In the midst of this political symphony was Roger, seated at a table with some of the MPs of the ruling political party; the center of a jovial circle. The men at the table exchanged jokes, patted each other on the back, and clinked glasses of expensive wine. It was a moment of camaraderie that Roger relished, knowing well how to navigate these social waters.

Then one of the MPs, Asahene Tyson, a boisterous character known for his blunt honesty, brought up a new topic.

“Chale, Roger!” he exclaimed, turning to him with a mischievous glint in his eye, “You know, before all this, Hubert and I were talking about our various escapades. You know, those sweet small girls and things. Abi you get some side chicks for some corner?”

The question hung in the air, and a brief awkward silence followed as the other MPs turned to Roger, curious and amused expressions on their faces. Roger, known for his ability to keep his cool, managed a strained smile.

He was not exactly the most decent man in the room, but for all his deviousness, Roger was not exactly a fan of infidelity. He really liked his wife, and even though she was out of the country for weeks and months at a time, the thought of having another girl in his house did not appeal to him, much less in his bed.

“Well, you know, gentlemen, I prefer to keep my personal life private,” he replied smoothly, attempting to deflect the attention.

“Herh, massa, stop that! Personal life private sɛ sen! You mean, you that you have your house all to yourself, you don’t have any small girls coming for servicing?”

“Herh, Roger paaa! Freedom paaa, and you are wasting it like that? Herh!” Hubert gasped. “You sleep in there all by yourself?”

Roger, growing increasingly uncomfortable by the second, shrugged sheepishly, the stunned looks of his mates not making it any easier. “I… I just… I just like to be by myself, you know.”

“Eiii, Roger, you dey force oo!” Asahene remarked loudly. “Coz if I had your type of mansion, eh, and that my troublesome wife was always out of the country… hah! Like two or three girls will come and keep me company!”

As the men around the table laughed, Roger’s phone began to vibrate. He checked, and knew it was urgent. “Umm, guys, let me answer this call really quick. I’ll be back.”

“You better come back oo! Na we for teach you how to play when the cat’s away!” Asahene declared.

Grimacing as he quickly rushed to the men’s room, he quickly answered once he was in the privacy of a stall.

“Is everything going as planned?” Roger inquired in a hushed tone.

“Yes, boss. We’re currently tracking him. He’s at service, so we’ll strike soon.”

“Excellent. Excellent. Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Yes, boss. It’ll go smoothly.”

“Good.”

***

“Young men! Please, I know you love the Lord. I know you are spiritual, I know you are anointed, I know you want to live for Him alone and serve Him all the days of your life. That’s fantastic, that’s the way to go. But please, drop the over-spiritus things when you are moving to the girls!”

The auditorium, full of the youth of the church, burst into laughter. It was a Wednesday evening, and at Reverence Ministries, the topic for the night was on relationships. A topic the youth loved to the max.

Not just because they liked the concept of love, but their beloved reverend sure had a lot to say whenever he had to speak about this topic. And this evening was no different.

As he stood on the pulpit, his focus was on the young men who ‘acted hyper spiritual’ when trying to approach a girl they liked. Never having that trait, he found it super annoying and always sought to tear it down any chance he got.

“Bra, when she looks beautiful, say it! Use the word beautiful! If you prefer other words, maybe ‘fine’, ‘incredible’, ‘cute’… something like that. Don’t stand before your crush and tell her ‘You’re looking powerful’. Aden, is she Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

The auditorium roared with laughter at that. Sika, in her usual seat, was part of them, wiping the tears from her eyes. If anyone knew how much that ‘compliment’ irked him, it was her, of course.

“Look, me if I was a girl and you come to me with that line, instant friend zone ooo!” David declared, a smirk on his face. “Learn to touch your lady’s heart with sweet words. I mean, people of God, look at Sika. Isn’t she the most beautiful woman in the room right now?”

Sika’s eyes went wide with surprise as members of the congregation whooped and cheered in agreement with their pastor. She looked at David and shook her head.

David looked straight at her. “Honey,” he started in a very romantic voice, “have I told you lately how beautiful you are? Have I told you what an extraordinary queen of queens you are? Have I told you… how much you just dey borst my mind?”

The cheers grew louder, as most of the youth showed excitement at their pastor’s ‘vibes’. As Sika shook her head, a shy smile on her face, David laughed at the reaction of the congregation.

“Eiii, see how you people are excited! You see what I mean? Express yourself! Somebody turn to your neighbour and say ‘express yourself’!”

“EXPRESS YOURSELF!”

***

An hour and a half went by, and the Mensah-Jones couple were on their way home, fully satisfied with the evening’s service. Sika had a lot to say, totally amused by her husband’s sermon for the service.

“Eii, David, tonight diɛ, you were laying it on thick in the sermon. Vibes upon vibes,” she teased.

David chuckled. “I had to make a point, didn’t I? Sometimes these young men need a reminder that love doesn’t have to sound like a sermon.”

Sika rolled her eyes. “We hear ooo, Mr. Romantic. Mr. ‘You-Know-You-Just-Dey-Borst-My-Mind’? Ebei, David!”

David laughed heartily. “But it’s true, lah! Or you didn’t know?”

“No please, I didn’t,” she responded slyly.

“Ahhh, okay. Then please, this Wednesday evening, I’m telling you that you, Mrs. Sika Mensah-Jones, you just dey borst my mind. Since the day I saw you at that SU meeting, you’ve been borsting my mind ever since, and I don’t want you to stop borsting my mind, because that’s what God intended for me; to have my mind borsted by the most beautiful woman I could ever know.”

Sika gave him an amused up-and-down look, then shook her head and clapped her hands. “You’ve done well, wai. I’ll give you A for effort with this ‘mind-borsting’ poetry attempt.”

David laughed. “Thank you, thank you very much. I’m grateful for the high scores.”

***

It was about nine o’clock as David and Sika approached their peaceful suburban neighborhood. As always, most of the cars were parked outside their homes.

As they turned the corner and neared their home, David’s left eyebrow went up. There was an orange Hyundai Accent next to their neighbour’s house.

That ordinarily was nothing weird; the owner of the house owned an orange Hyundai Accent. But the owner, Mr. Johnson, had told the couple on Sunday that he’d be out of town for a week.

“Huh, that’s strange. I thought Mr. Johnson was out of town,” David remarked.

Sika squinted, puzzled. “Yeah, he mentioned he wouldn’t be back from Ho until next week. Wonder why his car is here. Anaa he had to cancel or something?”

“Mmmm. Could be the case.”

As they pulled up in front of their gate, David couldn’t shake a sudden uneasy feeling that something was off.

There’s something not right, he thought to himself as he quickly scanned the area through the rearview mirror, his instincts tingling with suspicion. The neighbor’s car sat eerily still.

Sika reached over and touched David’s arm. “What’s wrong, honey? You look worried.”

Before he could respond, the neighbor’s car suddenly started and moved towards them.

David’s eyes widened in alarm, realizing it was a dangerous mimicry of Mr. Johnson’s vehicle as it moved closer to them. Panic surged through him, and before he could react, four hooded figures leaped out of the car, surrounding them.

Sika’s face spelled terror. “Jesus! Please, please, don’t hurt us-“

“Then shut up and be quiet!” one of the figures spat at her.

The driver’s door opened, and cold, heartless hands grabbed David and yanked him out of the car.

“David! No!”

The figure who warned her pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at her. “I said shut up, woman! Shut up!”

Terrified for her own life in that instant, Sika covered her mouth.

The other men stripped David of everything in his pocket, including his phone and wallet, and threw them aside. They then roughly shoved him into the trunk of their car, shutting it with a harsh thud.

“Chale, make we move!”

The one pointing the gun at Sika, who was trembling with terror, quickly backtracked and joined his cronies in the car.

And it sped off.

Shaking and flooded in tears, Sika screamed at the top of her voice.

“DAVID! DAVID! DAVVIIDDDDDDD!!”

***

“Hello?”

“We’ve got him, sir.”

“Perfect. So take him to the abandoned factory outside Asamankese, as agreed. And do what you need to do. Torment the crap out of him until he breaks and agrees to never utter another word about this government, whether negative or positive. And don’t stop until he does so. If it means causing permanent damage somewhere, do it! Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now move.”

This is unbelievable. So they’ve abducted him and are taking him to be tortured? Goodness gracious, Roger Wakefield. You are evil…