08/10/2025
I was 22, starting another bachelor’s degree. He was 23, a breath of fresh air, the silver lining people talk about when skies feel too heavy. He was in his final year, I was just beginning, but things were beautiful. He was the kind of person who would hand you his last money and drink water.
After national service, he pleaded with his father for a job. His father said he had disgraced the family by graduating with a second class and refused to help. So he found a small job in Accra as a warehouse supervisor. It wasn’t much but he saw it as a good start.
Six weeks in, he visited me on a motorcycle. I didn’t like it and told him so. He laughed, called me a wuss, and promised to stop. A month later, he came again with goodies. Everything under the sun, even salt. That day, we cooked, talked, and laughed at couples doing lovey-dovey things in corners. He asked for a drink to go with his food. We had none, so I promised that when he came back in ten days, on my birthday, we would have a whole bar waiting.
He left the next day. Then, at 4 a.m., I woke up to the greatest chill of my life. The wind was wild, the curtains angry. I checked my phone. No message from him. I got home around 2 p.m. While rushing to the warehouse, Security guards nearby said they saw it but couldn’t leave their post. One said he thought he was a thief and felt it was good riddance. That’s when the call came....👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾