Years ago, I was nearly baptized with Coke in East Palo Alto, California; an experience that could have passed for my First Day at School. A friend I was visiting was busy and signaled me to wait in the lounge. Not long after came his colleague Eric, hanky in hand and nose oddly splashed with powder. Eric politely asked if I would mind being served with Coke while waiting.
Coke, of course, was welcome. With my long experience with Coca-Cola back in Ghana why not a Coke hospitality while waiting, better still if it came with biscuits. But I quickly checked myself and reversed my nod, when I noticed two guys following in tow, their noses dripping with a white stuff.
There was more beyond: every individual stepping out of a side room came sniffing and sniffing and sniffing a powdery substance. Was this talcum powder, my Ghanaian instincts, but I was wrong! The Coke on offer was Cocaine. Not a facial enhancement, not my Ghana Coke served from bullet-proof bottles. Soon after, a brief self-introduction in progress got more and more animated, and I found myself in the ‘high’ company of faces I had just met. I was a young man of 30.
If I had agreed for my nose to be anointed that day, I would have graduated long ago and been appointed Ambassador Emeritus for Cocaine Ghana. Cocaine Ghana? That would be unfair for Africa’s finest: originally called the Gold Coast. In our anniversary month of March, a name change to the ‘Coke Coast’ would have tainted our good image beyond repair. But we were almost there: it was the same month the nation was invaded by a mystery virus: serial discovery of huge quantities of gold bars, plus the seizure of large caches of foreign currency on wheels; then came the saga of loaded port containers mysteriously diminishing by the day.
Plus this: twin mysterious planes suspiciously lurking on our tarmac, including an air ambulance alleged to have collapsed at our Kotoka airport. The suspicion was that Ghana’s lost treasures were probably in transit to safer destinations. Or had the former Gold Coast been given away as a hub for illicit gold and Coke trade on our blind side? All this happening during a transition from one government to another, the optics were scary.
Even more dreadful were the loud silences following each treasure find. In a country where pure gold today could be declared as fake gold tomorrow; and ‘gold bars’ become ‘chop bars’ the next day, loud silences the day after were worrying. Good manners forbid talking while eating, I soon learned! April 1, while all attention was riveted on April Fools, a respected legislator refused to be fooled.
In compliance with the security advisory, ‘if you see something, say something,’ he blew a loud whistle: two mysterious flights relaxing on our air tarmac for days, had headed to a known drug Paradise in Spain. One plane had indeed been labelled as an ‘ambulance,’ but tweakai! observers would not be fooled. Our nation has gotten used to siren-blaring ambulances speeding through traffic, past 37 Military Hospital, only to unload farm produce at the Malata market.
Critically ill cassava on board! But the whistleblower was not a mere legislator; he was a ranking member on defense and interior in whose remit suspicious flights squarely fall. Above all, Rev Fordjour is one of two certified men of God in parliament. Going public with his suspicion merely meant: ‘In God We Trust, Not Ambulances.’
Hearing the whistle, JDM, our dear President, takes a bold step and orders relevant state agencies to `immediately and fully collaborate with the honorable MP so he provides all necessary info to investigate the allegations and expose any drug dealing.’ The President emphasised Ghana’s zero tolerance for drug trafficking and would not allow the country to be used as a transit point or final destination for illicit drugs.
Reset the agenda in bold. That was a master stroke that set all hearts at ease, but not for long. The next day, a Govt spokesman dramatically reverses JDM’s directive. To the spokesman, JM’s call was not for investigation, but to raise eyebrows on the whistleblower himself. `Prosecute him; arrest the liar,’ became the new mantra echoed by pro-Govt agencies. The plaintiff was now a suspect.
Apart from the minority caucus that rose to his support, Ghana largely stood and stared as the reverend minister was booed, jeered, taunted, shamed, and abused. Things came to a head on Wednesday, 9th April. Dozens of armed men stormed the Spintex residence of Reverend Fordjour. The mission was unclear, but armed men wielding AK-47 rifles with hooded faces could either be lawless bandits or true law enforcement, in these days of a peculiar democracy.
One thing was certain: those armed men were not prayer warriors. The scene soon turned into a war zone with curious onlookers, plus a visiting minority caucus virtually stunned, while traumatized kids of the legislator sobbed and wondered what was going to happen to Daddy. Call it a looming battle between armed men and a Minister of the Gospel brandishing St James Bible and a Cross.
Towards the day of Crucifixion, issues still remain unresolved, even while faith in a public inquiry fades, and evidence from a crime scene melts away in high altitudes.
Is Ghana a hub for drug trafficking? Hopefully not. Let a reset Ghana stand firm and collectively resolve to protect our good Name. In God we trust. Not in Coke!
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