A Short Story
The Braves Shall Flee (Part 3 - Conclusion)
By Ebo Quansah
Since the chairman's broadcast, the three friends had never found the long curfew nights boring. They had argued, quarrelled and come close to testing their physical strength on the import of the leader's message.
"If enemies could abduct people during curfew hours and go through all barriers without being detected, then how safe is the ordinary man in your revolution? Why did the so-called enemies pick only those whose actions have questioned revolutionary law and how come the chairman said the bodies were recovered in the Accra plains when he knew too well that they were at the Bondase Firing Range, a place which access is open only to soldiers?"
Kofi Yesu's questions were persistent and occasionally irritated Kwakuvi Akakpo. His response had at times been outright condemnation of what he called "reactionary tendencies of a confused petit bourgeois".
When the SIC proceedings opened at the Parliament House, Kofi Yesu, Akakpo and Amarteifio were among the large crowd that milled the public gallery.
With the sort of account given by Mr Addow-Korang, there was little difficulty identifying the kidnappers who were arrested without any incident. It was the identification of the men pulling the strings that created a sense of fear and apprehension among the entire citizenry. Aryeetey Kwei, a member of the ruling junta was brought before the proceedings and identified as the man who handed the coded message to Ademeka.
While conceding his role, Aryeetey Kwei, the man universally known as the closest confidant of the Chairman confounded everybody by naming the nation's Security boss as author of the coded message and the brain behind the entire deal.
Ex-Captain Joke Katatsi was an enigma. As one of the most politicised military officers of the post-independence era, he had been discharged from the military on the orders of the First President and his idol.
Military sources were divided on the reason for the untimely discharge. Some said the President issued the order because the ex-captain was becoming politically ambitious. A more authentic source blamed the ex- Captain's humiliating exit on his mis-adventures in a Southern African country where he participated in a civil war.
The only theory everybody appeared to accept without question was that the discharged army officer was never somebody with a kind heart. While very few people doubted his involvement, an attempted press manipulation, even went to convince a few protesting his innocence that there was some skeleton in the cupboard.
Press had always come under the control of the state machinery. Anybody who, fortune had bestowed the Information Ministry under his control, had come to identify his success with how often he had influenced the contents of the mass media.
"S-S-Sir," Ademeka was nearly in tears. "Have you forgotten me? We used to hold meetings at the Chairman's house. I'm the one who usually fetched water into your old car when we were planning the holy war."
When the Secretary for Information called at the offices of the leading newspaper after the CIS proceedings, it was interpreted as one of those days when the visitor’s will had to prevail.
"Welcome Sir", the news editor rose to greet the Secretary, who only a few months back, had been asking favours from journalists to protest against his dismissal from the youth wing of the governing party.
"Where is the SIC story."
"It is here." The news editor started fidgeting in search of the story.
"Why did you send such a reactionary reporter?"
"I did not send anybody. The reporter went on her own."
The news editor handed over the type-written, the carbon copy, the handwritten piece as well as the reporter's notebook to the Secretary and summoned the reporter to explain who sent her to the CIS proceedings.
The reporter's explanation that it was her beat did not convince the Secretary who warned drastic consequences in future. Since the holy war, the press has constantly been identified as "part of the struggle."
Before leaving the premises, the Secretary lectured newsmen on journalistic requirements under the revolution and asked the editor to reserve the front page and editorial column for a very important press conference.
The conference, the first to be televised live, was addressed by ex-captain Katatsi. No questions were entertained.
"Vigilant security forces have intercepted a document outlining a planned invasion of the country by a foreign power...
Only the press could make some sense out of the broadcast. Editorials extolled the virtue in patriotism and praised the bravery of local soldiers as vanguards of the revolution.
A jingle on the "Voice of the Revolution" reminded the imaginary invaders: "patriotic soldiers, bravery defends the revolution."
With such an important news item as the security boss' broadcast, there was "no space" for the CIS proceedings that particular day. And since news is transient, the confrontation between Ademeka and ex-Capt Joke Katatsi never saw light. Like many such events in the country, every detail was communicated by word of mouth through- out the country.
"Do you know the man in the dock?" The SIC chairman's question was directed at Ademeka.
"Yes Sir."
"Who is he?"
"He is Captain Katatsi."
"How do you know him."
"He is our respected leader… Chief of Security The man who directs the revolution."
"Capt Katatsi, do you know the speaker?"
"No."
"S-S-Sir," Ademeka was nearly in tears. "Have you forgotten me? We used to hold meetings at the Chairman's house. I'm the one who usually fetched water into your old car when we were planning the holy war."
"I don't know you."
"No, No, Sir, You have known me since infancy. I am the boy who used to visit your traps in the village. I even fell into one and had this scar." Ademeka pulled up his trousers to show the scar on the right foot
"Since joining the army, I have been carrying out your assignments."
For the third time he denied knowing Ademeka. At that stage, the Corporal broke down and wept like a baby.
The SIC report did not suggest members were impressed by the security boss' denials but the attorney general was.
Meanwhile, what mattered to the press was the bravery of the revolutionary soldiers. Day in day out, the papers were full of imaginary forces being driven away or captured along the borders, until the men came.
It was a Sunday morning and an overcast sky had created a dull Sunday morning when they came. They were eight local men in track suits. In a daring operation that might be the envy of any Hollywood spy film director, the invaders seized cars, scaled the wall of the medium security prisons, released a few colleagues who had been detained by revolutionaries and marched on broadcasting house.
A few shots were fired. Soldiers guarding the 'Voice of the Revolution' abandoned their weapons and took to their heels. As for the leaders, they locked themselves up in one of the suit. strong rooms at the Castle where slaves were kept awaiting shipment before the trade in human beings was abolished.
"This is operations commander Hamidu Gyawu... We only came to release our colleagues. We are leaving. When we come back next time, we shall sort out who is more brave."
For four hours after the broadcast, not a mouse stirred. Then a helicopter was seen hovering above the broadcasting house, apparently to ensure that none of the invaders was around.
The Chairman then went on the air, conferred the highest honour of the land, "Order of the Sky", on his soldiers, promoted the captain who piloted the helicopter and launched a "search and destroy operation". Under the plan, anybody in track suits was to be "shot on sight".
When the chairman was coming out of the studios, he saw a group of soldiers hysterically removing a bloodstained body from a car he knew very well. Lt. Tettey, one of the chairman's aides was playing tennis when he heard the leader's broadcast. He was marching to the broadcasting house when troops opened fire on him. As the marksmen explained, Lt. Tettey was in a track suit.
It was FA cup final that day. As the teams were warming up in their dressing room, somebody drew attention to the track suits they were wearing which promptly forced the football association to call off the match.
Disappointed fans made their way out in silence. As Kofi Yesu and his friends got out of the stadium they forced their way into a tro tro lorry going their way. The driver was in unusually high spirits for the events of the day.
He joked and laughed throughout the four-mile journey to Kaneshie. On the instructions of the driver, the mate did not collect the C2 fare.
At their destination, Kofi Yesu and his friend climbed out and thanked the driver for his generosity. The driver's response was to display a toothpaste smile and wave of a white handkerchief. He started his engine and was soon lost in the dust. As the tro-tro disappeared in the distance, Kofi Yesu and his two friends read aloud the inscription at the back of the lorry.
The braves shall flee…
