A token from Grandpa...a story from Ghana

Chapter 1

Nana Ajoa parked her car in the parking lot of the Accra North branch of the Ghana Posts and Telecommunications Services.  She got out of the car and headed towards the IDD telephone booths.  Baaba, her daughter, followed her excitedly.  The technology that allowed people to make calls directly to other parts of the world was a novelty that fascinated many Ghanaians, even adults.  Unfortunately, the service was not available on home phones.  For Baaba, a ten year old, it also meant the ability to make her requests for sophisticated toys, beautiful clothes and candies directly to her great aunt in Chicago and promptly hear a reassurance. 

The evening was young and the human traffic around the area, as usual, was dense.  This particular part of Accra, proximal to the Kwame Nkrumah Circle, has commercial transport services to almost every corner of the city.  Many American tourists refer to it as the ‘Times Square’ of Accra.  Nana Ajoa would have loved to make her call earlier in the day when the traffic was much thinner but her aunt, Mabel, had a busy schedule and had pointed out that 6:30pm Ghana time was the best time to reach her.  Aunty Mabel, like her brother, Nana Ajoa’s father, was in the Medical profession.  But she was a registered nurse whilst her brother was an MD.  Being her father’s only child, Nana Ajoa had no one closer to a sister, growing up, than her father’s younger sister.

Surprisingly, none of the phone booths were occupied.  Nana Ajoa entered the first one and checked for a dial tone.  She dialed her aunt’s number, put the receiver to her ear and turned to look at her daughter.  But Baaba was not in the booth with her.  She transferred the receiver into her right hand and pushed the door with her left hand.  The door wouldn’t budge.  She began to panic.  She replaced the receiver on the hook and pushed the door with all her might.  A passerby saw her struggling with the door and came to let her out.

 She realized that a stick had been propped into the door handle to trap her in the booth.  She thought her daughter had played a prank on her so she started thinking of appropriate punishment even as she stepped out of the booth and looked around for her.  Her anxiety deepened as she searched futilely for her daughter.  Suddenly, someone handed her a piece of paper and disappeared into the crowd.  She tried to follow the person but realized she didn’t even know if whoever it was had been male or female.  She looked at the paper in her hand.  It read;

‘If you want your daughter back alive, don’t call the Police.  Go home and wait for instructions.’

Nana Ajoa sat down on the floor, leaned her back against the booth and wept from the bottom of her heart. 

TO BE CONTINUED.