A Short Story
The Braves Shall Flee... (Part 1).
By Ebo Quansah
"Enemies of the revo-lu-lu-lu-tion have carried out the deed to derail the revolution."
The three friends looked at each other in bewilderment. The importance of the broadcast was no more the message but the identity of the voice.
Kwakuvi Akakpo, chairman of the local People's Defence Committee felt more qualified to unravel the mystery. He tried to convince himself and his two friends that the voice was not that of the chairman.
"It's George Osei, winner of the 5,000 metres being interviewed," he opined.
The National Sports Festival had ended that day. The 5,000 metres was the most spectacular event. George Osei had broken both the national and African records and had been hailed by the chairman as the very epitome of the success the revolution had brought to the nation.
Kofi Yesu was unconvinced. He had heard and sang along as the national anthem was played. "God help us resist oppressor's rule..." Though they arrived after the speaker had been introduced, there was no way anybody was going to convince him that it was not the chairman broadcasting to the nation.
Since the revolution, all the chairman's broadcasts had been preceded by the playing of the national anthem though he himself had described the nation's self-government as "anthem and flag independence".
"Resist oppressor's rule ... How can one resist oppression when listening to the radio even, could be so oppressive?" That was Kofi Yesu.
"That is why the revolution has set out to change the society," Akakpo took up the chorus. "Poor radio reception is a classic example of the decadence the civilians left the country. Everything will change if people like you would shed their reactionary tendencies and embrace the revolution..."
Willie Amarteifio cut the PCD chair- man short with a suggestion that they should go to the next house to watch television. "If it's the chairman he will be on the screen," he said.
It was the chairman alright but his pale face, unkempt hair and eyes so red and widely opened that they appeared to be coming out of the sockets, portrayed a man under severe strain.
"Their bodies have been discovered by patriotic soldiers at the Bondase Firing - no - Accra Plains."
Kofi Yesu's explanation had a psychic note. "I bet he has seen their ghosts. They appeared to him in dream.Or he might still be seeing them ... for how can one explain this hysterical look of the usually confident leader of a self imposed holy war. Like Hamlet in Shakespearean tragedy:
All is not well.It was June, the wettest month on the calender of this tropical rain forest nation. Yet not a drop had fallen by the last quarter of the month. No crop grew and hunger stalked the land.
I doubt some foul play, would the
night were come...
Foul deeds will rise.
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them
to man's eyes.
Since the revolution, there had been recoveries of the bodies of prominent members of society getting missing after being released from military custodies. Like most events in the country, nobody had felt obliged to offer any explanation though all bodies were bullet ridden.
It was June, the wettest month on the calendar of this tropical rain forest nation. Yet not a drop had fallen by the last quarter of the month. No crop grew and hunger stalked the land. Everything was done to stem the tide of popular unrest.
Services of dedication were held throughout the nation. Rev. Father Damuel, a Roman Catholic priest excommunicated for various offences and who had joined the revolution, held an open-air mass. In his sermon, he had likened the leader of the revolution to Jesus Christ. "Like Jesus Christ, who delivered the world from sin, the chairman has given up his life so that me and you could lead a more decent life. He is Junior Jesus indeed. If it is not raining, it is because you and I have not given up our evil deeds. It is not the fault of the chairman. Repent and all will be well."
The old man was furious; he had come to the mass out of curiosity.
"Blasphemy," he shouted, his cloth loosely on his loins. Papa Kwasi had arrived at the city from Moree, a week before the mass. He had been drawn to the Independence Square because his daughter-in-law had told him the new Afrikan Church which Father Damuel had founded did not use the Bible. Libation, she had told him, opened the church's services.
"How on earth does anybody compare the leader of murderers to Jesus Christ? The other day, when another group of 'redeemers' took over power, the leader claimed credit for abundant fish. When no rain was falling, he stood at Oguaa and told us he does not make rain. Oh Lord Jesus Christ, thy children are suffering, only you have the healing power, redeem us from this..."
sentence, he was led away by security men never to be seen again.
A week after the mass, rain fell, but only for some ten minutes. The moon was at its zenith and with the stars dotted everywhere in the skies, there was no indication of rain clouds when it came pouring. Sellers were caught unaware and all of them and their wares were wet. They hurriedly assembled their wares to return home but it was all over before they could set off.
The next day, the rumour mills were busy. Three judges and an army officer had been abducted from their homes and their whereabouts became anybody's guess. Theoreticians had been many. Hypothesis had varied. Kofi Yesu claimed to have heard at the military barracks that the abduction had been decreed by the chairman himself.
"I hear the revolutionaries got their spiritual protection from Kankan Nyame. To keep the powers raging, if is a pre-requisite that a pot full of blood is delivered this week," he told his friends over palm wine.
"You have missed a vital point. The blood is used in mixing concoctions to give leaders of the holy war perpetual spiritual protection." That was Kwame Amankwa's version.
Agitation was leading to open confrontation, lawyers boycotted the courts, university students left the classroom and even market mummies left their stalls. Rumours were rife that the juju needed a fat woman and since most market mummies answered that description, most of them stayed away. The revolution felt threatened. Something ought to be done and quickly too. It was for that reason that the chairman had to rush to the broadcasting studios.
Part 2
