The Spirit is Willing
Short Story
by Akosua Kuma
He heaved a sigh of obvious relief; at long last he had escaped from the 'madding crowd' at Akomadan in the Fomso District. He still had not recovered from the shock of the harrowing experiences in the last few days that had forced him to ride in such an undignified manner in an articulated truck.
In fact, it would take him years to recover, if ever. But he could not help thinking that he was extremely lucky to have escaped alive. How human beings, indeed, some people he thought were his friends could have been so wicked to have informed on him when the hunt was on for party activists, had left a bitter taste in his mouth which nothing could wash out.
It was exactly on 3rd January, three days after the revolutionary cadres had taken over the country. The announcement that all party supporters should report to the nearest police station had reached him at Akomadan where he was doing the self assigned duty he had carried on for the past two years.
He had been very disappointed when his party won the general elections. His disappointment was rooted in the fact that, after the energy he put in to enable the party to win, he expected either an ambassadorial post or at least the managing directorship of one of the public corporations.
However the party leadership had decided that he could serve the party better in his capacity as the local chairman. He had protested, ranted and raved but the men with the political muscles had firmly told him that in spite of his widely acclaimed demagoguery he lacked money, the most important ingredient for acquiring political power. As things stood at the time he was a mere pawn on the chess board of politics. He could not believe his ears. To think that he had virtually put his life on the line for the party for this sinecure of a post. He could very well remember the election campaign days when he had to criss-cross the whole district, sometimes several weeks away from home selling the party's philosophy and manifesto to the people.
Travelling on that jalopy of a party car on a particularly bad road one day, the driver had lost control of the vehicle and nearly killed all on board when it overturned and rested on its side inside a deep valley. The party bosses had promised at the time that they would reward him adequately when the party won the election.
Even though his wife had been opposed to his involvement in politics right from the beginning, she was the first to recognise the vast opportunities available for making money when her husband was offered a regional post of Chairman instead of the Ambassadorial or Managing directorship that he had set his heart on.
His region being one of the country's biggest tomato-growing areas and with scarce-agricultural inputs like fertilizers, cutlasses and consumer essential commodities always on the priority list of the government's rural projects, any one who got involved in their distribution could make money very quickly.
So it was that after his initial disappointment, he quickly reassessed his relationship to the whole political set-up and went to the headquarters and convinced the top brass to channel a considerable proportion of the goods designated for the region through his regional office. He soon discovered the power he could wield in the area. He got access to all the ministers. He shuttled between the ministries for commodities and the Internal Affairs when the police were being difficult in the area. Soon he earned the accolade of 'Governor' in the region.
Steve's personal wealth grew as most of the essential commodities for the region had to be bought with chits signed by him and inspite of the loud complaints from all quarters, he ensured that the regional political machinery was well-oiled with the money from the illicit sale of goods to keep his activities out of the press.
On the day of the coup he had to run for his life because it appeared as if the whole town was after his blood. His wife God bless her had warded off the police with a diversionary strategy and wits which all the years they had been married he never knew she possessed. The persistent announcements on the radio that he must report to the local police station galvanised her into action.
She quickly contacted Ofosu Yaw his driver friend who had been transporting fresh tomatoes to the Upper Volta to help his friend escape. That's how he came to be travelling under the tarpaulin in the middle of crates of tomatoes.
***
Antoinette was a lovely girl. They had met at the hotel d'Etrangers at Ouagadougou a few weeks after arriving in the city. She met him at the time when he was going through the usual crises of depression and feeling of deep loneliness thinking about all the property he had left at home. He could not take his mind of the Radio Ghana announcements about prosecutions and sentences meted out to people whose "known incomes did not reconcile with their life-styles."
He had plenty of girl friends back home but far away from home and virtually impecunious, his new girlfriend was a solace to him.
He corresponded regularly with his wife back home but due to the unreliable postal system, it was sometimes months between letters before he got to know how his wife and five children were faring. Invariably, the news was very depressing - frozen assets, high prices, harassment by the local PDC's WDC's who would not forget Steve's activities.
Steve however managed to forget Mary and her troubles once he was in Antoinette's arms. She was an experienced woman who had travelled widely. She was a Ghanian born in the Ivory Coast. She married a French Architect she met in Paris whose high lifestyle led to constant movement around Europe. The strain was too much for her and the marriage collapsed but the important factor was the architect's reluctance to have children while Antoinette was anxious to have a baby.
The affair of Steve and Antoinette was like a house on fire. It was a perfect symbiotic alliance; Antoinette needed a man around the house, a father for the children she wanted so much while Steve needed a mate and interpreter. Though his career as an "active politician" was all over and this caused him incessant sorrow yet Antoinette was like soothing a balm on his troubled soul.
But soon threatening letters from his wife about his financial obligations began to prick his conscience and worry him. The last straw was a letter from his in-laws who threatened to break up the marriage if Steve did not fully explain what he intended to do about their daughter and the children. The last few weeks had also brought news which he could not exactly classify as good or bad - the ruling military government back home had openly declared safe-conduct to all self-exiled politicians to come home and help run the country. He decided to discuss the issue with Antoinette. "Just got a letter from Ghana"
"From your wife, I suppose... she glanced sideways at him, her face towards the wall, "and what's the news?"
"In a nutshell, it says, the government has granted us all amnesty to return home," said Steve as calmly as he could.
Antoinette stopped what she was doing, moved towards the bed and sat down heavily as if her legs had gone jelly-like. Steve noticed this, went to her and put his arms around her protectively. "There's nothing to worry about, its just an unconfirmed report'
"Well it better be because I was just going to tell you that the doctor has confirmed the pregnancy test. I'm three months gone and this isn't the time for you to go running back to Ghana", she said, in an uncharacteristically belligerent tone.
"Well, my dear, I thought it's a good opportunity I have to grab with both hands to go home again; after all you know that inspite of your love I have never been able to settle down here. I felt a stranger the day I came here and I still feel like a stranger.
"Okay, are you going with me or am I supposed to stay here alone and have the baby?" Antoinette asked.
Steve scratched his head and considered his situation. He toyed with the idea of taking Antoinette along. After all, as a typical Ghanaian man he could have two wives. Antoinette reasoned with him.
"Steve, I know you have obligations at home but there is no future for you back there. How are you going to live since the only profession you are trained for is banned."
There was a definite coolness about them for weeks while the potentially explosive issue simmered. Steve Owusu discussed their return with the other exiled people and he was told that their contacts back home had confirmed that their property would be returned and frozen accounts re-opened so that they could go back into circulation.
The only sore point in the plan was Antoinette. He could not take her with him and hope to have any peace of mind so long as Mary remained his wife. Then of course, knowing the temperament of both women he knew that he would have to swing like a yo-yo between the two, a situation he was not at all ready to endure.
A day before the scheduled return of Steve Owusu and two other exiles, Antoinette, overcome with grief was unconsolable in spite of Steve's promise that he would be in constant touch and come back for the baby and maintain her. She had cried all night.
She had gone shopping to prepare the last supper when the hospital rang that she had been knocked down by a bus. Steve and his friends rushed to the hospital emergency ward where they were told that she had lost the baby.
Standing by Antoinette's hospital bedside, Steve looked down on the unconscious girl so fragile and vulnerable again, having lost one thing that she had been longing for all the years. He made up his mind - he would stay by her side until she is fit again. He would find a solution to their problem, he swore.
The next day the first batch of the political refugees set out from Ouagadougou for home, without Steve. A week later the news got back to him that they had all been arrested.
NEXT WEEK!
"How do you ensure that this trained group of fighting men and women do not use the means and resources they have to impose their will on the rest of the society? How do you ensure that soldiers are servants of the state rather than its masters?..."Next week Talking Drums starts publication of an in depth analysis of the Military Problem. The writer is a recently retired senior officer of one of West Africa's larger Armed Forces and his insight is intimate and thought provoking…
