Time Bomb

GHANA STUDIES / Volumes 12–13 ISSN 1536-5514 / E-ISSN 2333-7168© 2011 by the Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System 277 TIME BOMB TSIATE TOTIMEH Ago Akwei was grumbling incoherently as he tossed his last shirt into a briefcase. This trip was one he had not looked forward to. The yearly ritual of visiting Grandpa had become such bland monotony. It would be the same old cycle: eating and sleeping. When Grandma was around, things had been far better. He chuckled grudgingly as he remembered the long, kelewele-chomping walks he took with her. “Ago! Have you finished?” Daddy inquired. This was the hundredth time he had asked that question in an hour. “Yes Dad, I’m ready.” Ago sighed. They left home barely a minute later. They had done just a few kilometres towards Circle when Mrs. Akwei’s face fuzzed onto the Boafo’s dashboard visiphone. “Mummy, your face looks so tired,” Ago commented. The tiny face on the LCD screen nodded in agreement. “Guys, I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it. I’ve got ten more serious cases. I’m sure I’ll be with you in a couple of hours.” Daddy nodded, his eyes on the road. “You’d better hurry up, Abui, before Paapa starts complaining about why Korle-Bu Hospital doesn’t treat doctors well.” “No problem,” Dr. (Mrs.) Akwei smiled back. “He won’t even miss me. Ago . . .” “Yes Mum.” “Could you buy Grandpa’s soft spot on your way? Daddy will give you money.” “Hey Abui,” Mr. Akwei started, “do you think I have mo . . .” he stopped. The visiphone had just pipped off. He smiled. Only Abui could be that fast. They bought two packets of digestives at a filling station. The salesgirl wrapped up the “soft spot” in a black polythene bag, handing it over with a sweet thank you. 278 Ghana Studies • volumes 12–13 • 2011 Grandpa was standing on his porch when they got to the Ashalley Botchwey residence. He looked like he had been waiting a long time. He started waving when they were way out. He gave a great whoop as Ago ran to him, and his eyes sparkled with delight. He bear-hugged him, and then stood back to look at him. “Hey, you’ve grown so big! How old are you?” “14 years, Grandpa.” Ago answered, smiling ruefully. That question was asked every year. He ambled into the spacious parlour as Daddy and Grandpa thumped and laughed away. By the time they got round to taking supper it was pretty dark. It was then that Ago remembered the “soft spot.” He went for it— he’d love some for dessert. He handed it to Paapa in its black wrapper. He asked playfully what it was, then shocked his visitors with the sheer disgust on his face, when he discovered. “Grandpa, what is wrong? Don’t you like the biscuits?” Ago asked, almost tearfully. Grandpa looked up. He looked sick. He pushed his banku and stew away. Daddy walked across to him: “Pa, what is the matter?” Grandpa slowly pulled himself together, and then life returned to his eyes. He stood up. “You guys finish your food. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll be waiting with an explanation when you’ve both eaten.” Nobody was in the mood to eat all of a sudden, but Grandpa was persistent . The banku got finished. Grandpa was now sitting on his favourite sofa in the parlour. He looked up as Ago came over: “Grandpa! What’s wrong? The food was delicious.” The poor boy was near wailing point. Grandpa patted the cushion by him. “Sit down Ago. Today, I’ll tell you a story you’ve never heard before. It is a true story. It’s about something that happened about fifty years ago. Let’s wait for Daddy,” Grandpa continued. Daddy cleared the table and then plopped tiredly into an armchair, frowning. Totimeh • Time Bomb 279 “Paapa,” he started, “I thought you had gotten over this black bag thing?” “Yes son, I thought so too. I . . . I don’t know, why all this is happening. Ago, I hope...