GHOSTLY GHOST!

Third year. Legon. University of Ghana campus. Commonwealth Hall. F Block. Room 13. We had lost a roommate. 

Ten roommates we were. We all were down. Very! The late, affable Kofi Dade Snr. had shared everything of his with whoever was willing to ask. Malaria had betrayed him to death.

That week had been a hard one for all nine of us. Some of us had that unquenchable faith that he was going to be back sooner or later. One of us had even dreamt that he had been revived from dead. Another had been prophesied to in church that he was going to see with his bare eyes someone rise from the dead that week!

Our hopes had been raised. 

It had only been three days since our Archaeology pal passed away. 10 pm. ECG had done what it loved doing best- lights out. Most students had retired to their beds.

Someone banged ferociously at the door. 

“Who the hell is that!? Can’t you see it’s late?” one of us chided.   

   

“I am coming for my mattress! I can’t sleep very well where I am.”

“Who are you?” we all chorused.

“Kofi Dade!”

We looked into each other’s faces. Our hearts thumped in our chests. There was dead silence in the room. 

“Eeeh? Come again. Please, who did you just say you were?” I quivered.

“You heard me right. You think I’m kidding? Kofi Dade the archaeologist I was and am!” 

Everyone started screaming; most of us dashing into the inner room to seek refuge. No one was man enough to dare go near the door. 

“I am damn tired. Don’t waste my time. I want to go back to sleep. Do you want me to break this door?” he threatened.

“No. No. Just a minute,” we prayed.

The same religious ones who believed in the biblical Lazarus miracle had already started chanting in tongues, rebuking the devil at the door. 

The one who had dreamt a day earlier inched closer to the window and shiveringly peeped through, with the aid of his phone’s torch. 

He flinched. The figure he saw was exactly what he had expected. 

“Chaley. It’s true oo. It’s him!” He bolted.

Two friends immediately passed out.

The figure at the door, probably running out of time, forced the door open, amidst our echoic screams. Suddenly, the lights came on. We froze.

“I am Kofi Dade Jnr.”  I passed out, too.

PANTY-LESS ME!

I had been combing almost all the companies and schools in Accra for employment after university. As long as three years on, there was still none. My hallowed, hard-earned undergraduate certificate was becoming nothing more than an ornamental memorabilia with little or no use.

These were times my breakfasts were intentionally delayed, and either my lunch or supper kept on diminishing by a morsel day after day. “Get a job like your friends!” I was indirectly trying to be told.   

One morning, thankfully, I had a call to come teach in an all-girls’ school the next day. My goodness!  The enthusiasm was great. First, I would be able to own a radio set at long last, and second, I would meet girls; a lot of them.

Exactly 6am I was at the bus terminal. There were scores of several others who had one important schedule or another to attend to; all of us anxiously waiting for a trotro.

The first came. As expected, only a few strong ones made it; no place for neither the gentle nor weak. Second trotro; same story. 

It was obvious my gentleness was only going to get me standing there till another eclipse occurred in GH. Those in tuxedos even joined in this ‘survival of the fittest’ (which looked nothing new to even the ladies), how much less yours truly dressed in an oburoniweewu long sleeves and trousers, and of course... panty-less.  

Walking about panty-less (antipé) wasn’t anything new. It went far back to my SSS days and was one enjoyable legacy my single sex alma mater had successfully ingrained in me.

Third trotro came. I forcefully made my way amidst battering and insults from some aggrieved co-passengers. I hastened to the headmistress’ office and then sped off to the class I had been assigned to. 

The students unusually giggled on seeing me.  

“I look that good?” I wondered. “Maybe I look like another John Dumelo.” 

I poured on and on all that I had ‘chewed’ some years ago. The class even giggled the more. To my bewilderment, all those from behind had suddenly moved to the front seats… whispering to each other.

“Oh! I guess I am that good a Biology teacher,” I soliloquized, with such a great sense of fulfillment. 

On realizing how impressive their interest in the topic was, I didn’t leave anything to chance; not even the ‘biological’ demonstrations. They burst into laughter after each of such theatrical moves. 

By some stroke of luck, I cast my eyes on the flap of my neatly-pressed adigidon trousers. Alas! There my hair- adorned ‘heavyweight’ was unperturbedly minding its own business. It had been staring into everyone’s face all that while! 

I heaved. “Close your eyes,” I paused. “Say the sinner’s prayer!”