Norman Goodman Misserial’s
‘ESCAPADES OF KWEKU ATTA, ESQ.,’-An African President
His Excellency Nana Sir Obrempong Ewiasewura Kwaku Atta I, Esq., QB, SAG, OBE, KFC, the President of Ogyakrom, had his eyes glued to the television set. On the desk in the corner, the radio was tuned into Capital Radio, the foremost radio station for English broadcasts in the capital. Since the President had given the ultimatum over the weekend, Capital Radio had given the matter extensive coverage. They were already at the scene, and had promised that they would be first with the news, as usual.
For backup, His Excellency had his eyes glued to 20TV, which also had a reputation of always being the first to hit with the news.
Inwardly, His Excellency had a competition going on as to which of the two outlets would be first with the news. So far, 20TV seemed to be leading. It had several cameras placed at strategic points throughout the Central Government District, which were all giving regular updates. It seemed that Capital Radio had a lesser number of reporters stationed in the general area, but what it lacked in general coverage it was making up in noise. So far, nothing.
But when the back of the strike was broken, it was one of the President’s own sources that brought the news.
The President was so glued to the coverage on the television set and on the radio, that he actually missed it when the flashing lights on the console of the red hot telephone began blinking. The machine had been calibrated in such a way that it would vibrate on second ring, and it was the soft but insistent vibration that dragged the attention of the President to it. He snatched up the receiver and said tersely, “Yes!?”
The voice was calm and level, as always, even though it was also tinged with measured excitement.
“They are all at their desks,” the voice said levelly. It was National Security Advisor Major (Rtd) Anthony Dzigbodi.
“What!” shouted the President, “How? When? How did they get past the scouts?”
“Apparently, they all sneaked into their offices quite early this morning. One spent the night there. They wanted to avoid the humiliation of being videoed entering their offices,” said the National Security Advisor.
The President laughed incredulously. So he had already won this battle of wits even before dawn, but had no idea.
“Have you confirmed they are there?” he asked.
“Yes,” sighed the Dzigbodi. “One of them called me to tell me that we should get our men out of there because they are already behind their desks. So I sent in a few scouts to all the offices. They are all there.”
“The President? The Secretary?”
The sigh was noticeably louder, not much louder but distinctly louder, “Yes, Mr. President.”
“Okay,” laughed the President. “Okay, thank you for the heads up. Let’s talk later.”
He cut the call and immediately hit the button for the Communication Director, Ralph Bonsu, who came running in.
“Alert your people. They should storm inside those offices. Those tricky guys went in last night and are holed up in their offices. Expose them! We have won!” His Excellency said.
Ralph Bonsu was just as incredulous, “What! This is incredible! So they spent the night inside their offices?”
“Yes,” the President laughed loudly. “They went in Sunday night, so we would not video them Monday morning. Alert your people in the press. I am monitoring.”
Ralph run out. It was a testament to his prowess when both 20TV and Capital Radio started flashing ‘Breaking News’ less than five minutes later.
The back of the strike was broken. The obnoxious ‘Neutrality Allowance’ was no more.
To be con’t.
