My Life, My Journey 334f2u

MY LIFE, MY JOURNEY

Bruce Wilberforce

Copyright © 2016 by Bruce Wilberforce.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016917255 ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5245-9544-9 Softcover 978-1-5245-9543-2 eBook 978-1-5245-9542-5

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Rev. date: 11/18/2016

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part One – Early Years and Family Life

1 Birth Date Controversy

2 Parents and Siblings

3 A Life of Transfers

Part Two – Military Life

1 Enlistment into the Teenagers Group, Western African Republic Army

2 The Journey to the Teenagers Group—Badamashi

3 Teenagers Group Inside the Lion’s Den

4 Military Activities in Nkran

5 Entry to and Activities in Kroto

Part Three – Resettlement in Caucasian Republic Asylum, Education, and Work

1 The Journey to Caucasian Republic

2 Education and Work in Caucasian Republic

Part Four – Back to Western African Republic

1 The Journey Back to Western African Republic

2 Relocating to Western African Republic

Note

This book is an autobiography that states the facts of the real experiences of the author in a West African country. Due to some exposures, which might endanger the lives of some still wanted persons mentioned in the narrative, the author has chosen to use pseudonyms rather than the names of all the actual actors. The names of the countries and places where the narrated events actually took place have been consequently changed and so are the dates. It is hoped that the narrative here would not be taken as a work of fiction from an imaginative mind. It is also hoped that human rights youth activists of Africa and the rest of the world shall be well informed by this narrative of cruelties meted out to teenagers in some African military institutions in the name of training them as soldiers to perform patriotic duties. This chilling but readable narrative shall certainly take its place in the military history of Africa as she emerges from the dark days of colonialist oppression and repression. But that must not deflect attention from the can-do spirit of the author who had to go through family and other adversities to emerge as an accomplished professional serving in international companies. That exhibition of the can-do spirit forms the thematic string holding the book together in this story of an African child’s struggle from childhood along an uneasy path on the educational ladder through the military to further education in foreign lands to make it in life as a proficient professional. He’s done it. Why not you?

The Editor

Dedicated to

My children: Cliff and Rebecca Wilberforce You are my motivation. You are the reason I work hard.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to Alhaji Iddrisu Tijani and his family, Naba Awudu Tijani (Zamzam Chief, Badamashi), Mrs Nudah (a.k.a. Tifi), Mr Busu of Rice Mill, Tangah, and Alhaji Sully Dauda of Akubaw for saving my life. Without the boldness and courageousness of these angels, I would be dead by now.

Thanks to my mother-in-law (Aunty Gladys) for the great help she gave to Lionel, Raymond, Joseph, and my mom when we needed it the most.

Thanks to my special brother, Nicholas Addo, for his help, encouragement, motivation, and for his countless hours of editorial work invested in getting this book ready.

Thanks to my special brother, Mahama Adamu, who has always been there for me and my family.

Thanks to my special sister, Mrs Manye Amorkor. There is no sister like you.

Big thanks to my daughter, Rebecca, for putting me on track. This book could not and would not have been written without her.

And I am especially grateful to my son, Cliff, for his patience and his ever readiness to help at any given time without asking questions. Cliff, I cannot thank you enough.

My gargantuan thanks go to Sarah for her unflinching and help from day one.

INTRODUCTION

For so many years now, I have been considering the idea of writing a book about my personal life, but since I did not know how to write a book, I always brushed it off anytime the idea came up.

Increasingly, year by year, I felt so much pressure on me to tell my story, but then, I doubted anybody being interested in that story since I am just like the man next door.

These are but a few of the reasons why I kept pushing this book project aside.

Rebecca had been listening to my story, and for the past three or four years, she also kept adding to the pressure for me to put down my story on paper. She would say, ‘You would never know, but I am sure there are lots of people out there who are definitely going to be interested in reading your story. It is an unusual story.’

PART ONE Early Years and Family Life

1 Birth Date Controversy

I know I was born at Ablosu-Okame in the Eastern Region of Western African Republic, but I am not sure of the exact date of my birth. I was told it was the tenth of December 1964. I know there was a birth certificate for me, but it was lost at some point in time. A new one was made in the year 1979 in Koditaar when I was to be enlisted into the Teenagers Group of the Western African Republic Armed Forces.

My parents always maintained that I was born on Sunday, and until I came to Caucasian Republic, I also maintained that I was born on Sunday.

One day, while in Etinorf, after I had listened to a conversation about birthdays on a ‘SAT 1’ TV programme, I decided to check mine on the internet. It was there that I realized that the tenth of December 1964 was not a Sunday at all.

Could it be that the month and year are correct but not the day?

My father is dead now, but my mother and siblings are very sure that I was born on a Sunday in December. What they all cannot say with certainty is the year and exact date of my birth.

Particularly in Caucasian Republic and perhaps generally in the West, people are very particular about their birthdates and time of birth, but in some cultures,

people do not lay much emphasis on such issues.

Obtaining a birth certificate in Western African Republic is very easy—you only need an affidavit, which is always issued for a fee, from a civil notary.

In the absence of computer systems, this sounds like the easiest way to have the system issue out a birth certificate to you. It helps reduce the stress and hustle of having the same system go through the archives of the hospitals to pull out duplicates of your birth certificate, if any.

2 Parents and Siblings

My father is the late Albert Wilberforce (Chief Superintendent of Police) and my mother is Belinda Lando. Both of them are from Namba, and Kilago-Alago, respectively.

My siblings are Edward Wilberforce (now in USA), Joseph Wilberforce (he was in Helmond in Holland but now deceased. He also lived in Oostende in Belgium before moving to Holland), Morgan Wilberforce (Nkran), Ellen Wilberforce (stepsister, Nkran), Lionel Wilberforce (now in Belgium). These are followed by Raymond Wilberforce (Nkran) and Stephanie Wilberforce (Nkran).

I am aware that my father had other children with other women across the country (Western African Republic); unfortunately, I did not get to meet and know any of them before I left the shores of Western African Republic, and I do not know their names either.

3 A Life of Transfers

1. Journey to Badamashi

At the time of my birth, we were at Ablosu-Okame in the Eastern Region of Western African Republic. We were there because my father, as a police officer, was on transfer to that town.

After two years, we were transferred to Badamashi in the Onila Region. I from conversations at home that my father had a daughter with an Onilan called Naabe (or Aunty Naabe). I also that my mother was then trading in provisions in a kiosk.

2. Journey to Wa

From Badamashi, we were transferred to Wa in the Northern Region. It was in Wa in the year 1970, at the age of 6, that I was first ed to start class one at the Wa Experimental Primary School. I did not go to a day nursery or a kindergarten school.

I I was brought before a certain Mr Parduah, who was the heaster of the primary school and also a close friend of my father, for the registration. At his office, I was asked to put my right hand over my head to touch my left ear.

Anyone who could not touch his or her left or right ear by moving his or her left or right hand over his head was considered unqualified for class one.

My mother did not stay with us in Wa but moved to Nkran to her parents.

I I had a stepmother who was called Aunty Margaret. She was a native of Wa, and I she could talk with her dog.

One day, during Christmas celebrations, my sibling Morgan wanted to know if the dog could tell Auntie Margaret about things that happened in her absence from home. So, he decided to lock the dog in a room and threw firecrackers at it. Hours later, when Auntie Margaret returned home from work, she called all of us to the living room while the dog was there and asked Morgan to explain why he locked the dog in a room and threw firecrackers at it.

I also that my siblings had private lessons at home with a teacher, who was employed to teach them. I being bitten twice on my left ear by bees at that time.

When my first school year was over, as usual, the class had to move on to class two, and that also meant that we had to relocate to a new classroom. Unfortunately, I did not know and nobody had told me about moving with the class to a new location.

So I went into the class to my mates but found new faces in the class instead, and there was somebody sitting on my chair. I became worried, sad, and started wondering whether I had entered the wrong room. While I was standing there confused, the class teacher came to enquire what my name was so she

could figure out whether I was on her list of pupils for her class.

It was then that she told me that I was to my mates at a different location, so she held my hand and brought me to class two to my mates.

I we had a maid-servant called Zumaa. Zumaa, who was based in Wa at the time, was an Iba from the Nkran Region.

My mother was not with us in Wa but visited us on certain occasions. I do not know why she was not living permanently with us there.

Though I was very young, I was always beaten with canes and sticks by my dad and my senior brothers. I understood these punishments as training. The beatings took place on daily basis. They were too hard for me to bear, but I had no choice, and there was no way I could escape them. I that I was always living in fear because as a child, there was no way I could live my life without making mistakes.

I making away with sixty pesewas belonging to Zumaa, the maid servant, one day. I was driven with the fear of being caught. To legitimize my ownership of the money, I invited Lionel to play with me in the sand where I had hidden it.

At a point, while playing, I pushed the sand to the side and the coins surfaced. I then told Lionel that I had found sixty pesewas. We decided to share it. But when we got home, Zumaa had noticed that her money was not there. She then reported the sudden disappearance of her money to my dad and suggested that the money I had found in the sand was hers.

Knowing how dangerous the situation had become, Lionel quickly narrated the history of my finding the money in the sand to dad who, without any doubt, concluded correctly that I was the one who hid the money in the sand. That day, Dad gave me six lashes on my back, and I felt so ashamed, embarrassed, and isolated.

The first time I heard about the death of a human being was also in Wa, shortly before my dad was promoted and transferred to Nkran. A teacher on internship at our school from the Wa Training College (WaCo) had come to teach music.

One day, while he was teaching class four pupils, he fell down in front of his class and died instantly. The news of his death spread through all the schools of the town, and I how he was buried.

It was known in all the schools that he was teaching a song and was singing, ‘Tila doo soo soo faa mee’ when he fell down and died.

By the time we left Wa, I could speak Wala fluently. It was as though it was my mother tongue.

Sometime in 1971, my dad was promoted from the rank of Police Inspector to the rank of Assistant Superintendent of Police and was transferred to Nkran.

I the day when we were packing our belongings into the truck bound for Nkran. Out of excitement, I was crossing the road, and suddenly, a bicycle hit me from the left and threw me into a gutter.

When I was pulled out of the gutter, I realized that I was bleeding from my same left ear that the bees had bitten twice.

It was at the Special Military Hospital in Nkran that I was finally taken care of and treated. I having severe pains on so many occasions after the accident and treatment.

3. Journey to Nkran

In 1971, we embarked on our journey to Nkran and arrived at Obidonu Junction at Babioshi, a suburb of Nkran, and settled in a house that was given to my dad by the Police Force.

I was ed to continue my primary education together with Lionel and Morgan at the Babioshi 1 (K1) Aidaforce Primary School. It was one of the cheapest schools in Nkran at the time.

We started a new life in Nkran and made new friends both in our neighbourhood and at school.

School got tough sometimes for me, and this was especially during mathematics and early morning ‘mental’ exercise.

Early morning mental exercise was all about being prepared to answer questions

on mathematics i.e. multiplications etc.

Sometimes, I went to school without knowing why, and I also had very little help and from home. For instance, there were times when I could not do my assignments or homework, as it was called, because I did not understand the work itself.

I it was in class three that I started reading properly for the first time. This is how it happened. In our classroom, there were those who could read and write and those who could not. So, those of us who could not read were asked by the class teacher to pair up with those who could. It was on one such occasion that the late Wittingday Jacobs, Frederick Oluni Lawson, and Patrick Safo went through a reading marathon with me, and in less than an hour, I could read on my own.

I every pupil in the class was asked to read a paragraph, and when it got to my turn, I did not want to stop reading but continued. The teacher allowed me to continue reading, and when I was done, she said, ‘It’s really a nice thing to know how to read.’

I was so happy that day that I wanted my dad and my siblings to know I could read, so I read almost anything that I saw.

My dad became popular in Western African Republic when his job as a Unique Service police officer led him to foil a coup d’état that was being planned by a certain Ibrahim Mahamudu to topple the Military Council government of General Z. K. Adjedumah.

I my dad became very busy during and after the time of his investigations to foil the coup. He had to sleep in hotels, and on certain occasions, he came home under heavy police protection.

Then came ugly times!

School became hostile to me, as I was not able to endure the pressure and punishments for not being able to finish or do my assignments. Those who were not good in class were brought before the whole class, whipped, and disgraced publicly. So to avoid such embarrassments, I dodged classes.

Increasingly, the situation became too cumbersome as similar punishments awaited me at home, and, consequently, I found myself on the streets of Bimoba, Zongo Tean, Alhaji Mustapha Market, Gasimehu, etc., with Morgan and Lionel.

Reflecting on the occurrences then, I am not quite sure of what may have precipitated Lionel’s and Morgan’s truancy and vagabondism, but I recall we were out on the streets, and it was I who followed them.

We pushed trucks to make a living and slept on flat cartons at night.

I was about eight years old and had already concluded that I was not going to go home anymore.

I was not happy being on the streets, but, at least, I was sure I was not going to be beaten at school or by my elder brothers and my dad.

One evening, I was with Morgan when we heard of a show that involved a magician, so we decided to go there to see if we would be allowed entry without paying.

Attending such programmes without paying depended on several possible means: we jump a wall, sneak into the hall through the main entrance and through a gatekeeper we knew, or enter when the show or movie was about to be ended.

While standing in front of the main entrance, a group of men approached and invited me to be part of the programme. Morgan was given a free ticket because he gave his consent for my participation.

The men took me to the magician, and after performing some rituals on me, I was stripped naked but given a rapper made of dried long leaves to rap around my waist. I was trained to behave and move like a dwarf. They also taught me a simple dance, and I kept dancing in that manner on stage until the programme was over that night.

While on stage, as the main event unfolded, a young woman was called from amongst the audience and brought on stage. She was asked if she would be prepared to be shot (killed), buried, and be raised on the third day.

The young woman agreed in the presence of the police, and, well, I guess some legal representatives of the magician or vice versa.

So it happened that she was taken into a dressing room that had been improvised for the event, and when she was brought out of that dressing room, she was wearing a light black dress.

So in front of the audience and the police and the high profile personalities that had come to witness the event, she was made to stand with her back facing a white wall and shot three times in the chest area. She fell down and struggled, for a few seconds or so, to wake up, I guess, before dying or remaining motionless on the ground.

Doctors were quickly taken to the woman to confirm her death, and then in the company of police escorts, the magician, his team, and other personalities (probably relatives of the woman), they drove away.

We were asked to report earlier (1800 hours) for the completion of the programme on the third day, so by 1700 hours, I had arrived with Morgan. I was a kid, and what I saw had given me so much fear, but, all the same, I was more than willing to be part of the programme to the end.

By 1900 hours, the audience had started arriving in their numbers, and by 2000 hours, the hall was already full.

After a brief announcement by the organisers, we (the dwarfs) got on stage and started dancing to some local Onilan songs.

While on stage, we started hearing the sound of the siren of the police to signify the coming of the crew and the magician.

The corpse of the lady was brought onto the stage wrapped with a white calico and red bands on her feet. It looked as though it had no eyes because when I saw her face, I seeing two holes exactly where her eyes were supposed to be.

We had waited for the arrival of the magician, his crew, the police, and the corpse for about two hours.

The concert hall turned mute, remained stunned, and looked on in shock with great anxiety when the magician started his work. He recited some words that sounded poetic or like a prayer. And when he was done, he ed us to dance for some time before moving finally to the corpse.

He called two of his workers and asked them to help him put the corpse on a bench. He took his gun, shouted very loudly, and called the lady by her name ‘Faustina’ and asked her to get up and sit on the bench.

Faustina got up and sat on the bench as commanded, and then the magician held her by the hands and released her from the white calico and the red bands.

The magician brought out a small red pot from his box and poured some coins he had conjured from the air into it and gave it together with a sewing machine to Faustina as a gift.

I was young when I witnessed the show, and I also knew it was about magic.

Another interesting thing that happened during my experience on the streets of Nkran was a boxing fight that took place on 6 November 1976 between Western African Republic’s Ablordey Christopher and Williamson ‘Sharp’ Chou.

That night too, we managed to jump over the walls of the Nkran Sports Stadium, amidst tight security, to watch the fight.

My mother was with us at the Obidonu Junction house until we got separated again when my father was transferred to Hutumga in the Yany Region.

As a convinced Christian, she had had her basic elementary education before meeting my dad.

With time, she would have a lot of difficulties with my father. I that while we were at the Obidonu Junction house, she invited of Fraternal Healers Church International into my father’s room to ‘cast out demons’! I do not recall how it all ended between my parents, but I know their relationship was fraught with difficulties.

My father happened to be a member of the Western African Republic Lodge at the time—a group that practised occultism. My mother was opposed to it.

I am not aware of what my father did to bring us home when we ran to the streets, but, certainly, my mother did a lot.

She mobilized some of her church to come and look for us. When they found me, they explained that dad was not going to beat me because mom had talked him into accepting that he should forgive me, so I followed them home to my mom. She received me into her arms, and after bathing, she served me with a warm banku and okro stew, my favourite meal then.

On my part, it was out of fear of being beaten by my father for not being a good teen, by my teachers at school for not being good in class, and by my senior brothers for one reason or the other that made me run to the streets.

That was not going to be the first and the last because I had known how to disappear from home. On some occasions, I would be brought home only to run again when things did not go well, and sometimes, it was Morgan who would ensure that I returned home.

A neighbour at the Obidonu Junction I very well was Mr Phillip Zakonis whom I would meet in Etinorf in 1987.

4. The Journey to Hutumga

My father was transferred to Hutumga in the Yany region. One day, while we were preparing and packing our luggage into the truck, he informed us that our mother was not going to travel with us to Hutumga.

He said she would remain in Nkran to take care of the last born (Raymond Wilberforce).

It was definitely sad to be told that my mother was not to go with us, and this was made more difficult by the fact that I was very young and needed the care and love of my mother. There was nothing I could do but to look forward in expectation of something new.

I we arrived at Hutumga and headed to bungalow no. 1 on the road to Klipeh through Paka-Mkpe and Paka-Alab.

During the first few days of our arrival, we remained mostly at home and got ourselves familiar with the area.

We were also introduced to our new neighbours and friends of my father. One of them was Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) Mr Ogboti, who would later become the Inspector General of Police (IGP), and Dr Bedo Msamu, a spiritualist who had his private Clinique at Hutumga at the time.

I was ed to attend the Evangelical Presbyterian (EP) Primary School, and upon completion of my primary education, I moved on to the EP middle school to my brothers, Lionel and Morgan.

I the names of the close friends we had while at Hutumga: Cliff Antony, who was the best table tennis player in the Yany Region at the time, Alex Olympio, who was also the second best table tennis player in the Yany Region, and Vincent Abakari, who also happened to be the third best table tennis player of the Yany Region at the time.

And then my personal friends who were but not so close to our family at the time were Sunday Alidonu, Edmund Bolke, and Samuel Lamisie. At least, these are

the names I can now.

We also had a Hutumga native who happened to be a house help at the time and was known to us as Kulesu.

Dr Bedo Msamu had an occult group in Hutumga. My father was a member. He attended some of their meetings with Joseph.

One day, my father introduced Matilda to us as his partner. She was working for the Post and Telecommunications (P&T) in Nkran but visited him whenever she had a vacation.

I , one day, that my sister Stephanie fell sick, and all of us thought she would not make it. I do not know what happened to her and why she was sick for such a long time.

I Msamu had to perform some rituals for her.

5. The Journey to Arkwat

In 1977, my father was transferred to Arkwat in the Western Region.

Once again, we had to say goodbye to all our friends. This time around, I was on the journey with my father Morgan, Stephanie, and Raymond, whom my mom

had brought to my dad.

Lionel was not with us on the journey to Arkwat because he had ed a common entrance examination and had gained ission to the Teka-Aborli Secondary School (Teborsco) at Kedjebi.

I sitting in a Peugeot 504 Caravan with my father, his driver Raymond, and Stephanie my younger sister while Morgan was in the truck that transported our furniture and personal belongings.

On board the truck was our dog (Apollo), but when we all arrived at Arkwat, the dog was nowhere to be found.

We concluded that it probably may have jumped from the truck at some point. We never saw it again.

At Arkwat, I was ed with the Dusiedu Memorial School to continue with my elementary education.

As in any other town, life in Arkwat was very interesting. Again, I made new friends and got myself accustomed to the people and life at Arkwat, but it was not going to be long for us to be transferred to the next town.

One day, I embarked on a journey with my father to Kondise near Koditaar to attend a meeting he was invited to. He had been promoted from the rank of Assistant Superintendent of Police to that of a Deputy Superintendent of Police,

and it was being arranged for him to move to the western regional capital (Koditaar) to assume the responsibility of the Senior Crime Officer (SCO) in charge of both Central and Western Regions of Western African Republic.

When the meeting and all that he had to do were over, we embarked on our return journey to Arkwat.

The journey was very interesting because I love travelling on long distance journeys, and I also enjoyed the refreshments that my father gave me.

Halfway through the journey, we drove past the Nagoa-Kwantan Junction, and a few kilometres after that junction, my father negotiated an overtaking manoeuvre.

It was during that overtaking manoeuvre that Joseph, who was sitting in front of an Arkwat-bound bus, saw us in my father’s car, and together with the bus driver, they managed to stop us.

He ed us in my father’s car, and together, we continued our journey towards Arkwat.

I moved to the rear seat because Joseph, being the eldest, must sit in front with my father. The rear seat was fun because I had enough space and was not engaged in all of the conversations.

At some point, I heard my father telling Joseph that it was fun driving his

Peugeot 404 (light green with the registration number GS 1651) because the engine and the shock absorbers were in perfect condition and that he could accelerate without any fear.

Soon after he had finished telling Joseph about the condition of his car, we came into a rough road with him still speeding.

He started applying his brakes and tried to by some deep portholes, but very unfortunately, he lost control of the car, and it somersaulted twice towards the left and got stopped by a tree.

In no time, other drivers, including the bus driver who was driving Joseph, came to our rescue.

My father talked to us (Joseph and me) asking if all was well with us. I saw some bruise and traces of blood on their bodies and got frightened.

At first, I thought we were dead because I was not hearing properly as I used to before the accident. My hearing sounded hollow.

And then when we started talking to each other, I got some relief. But when it was decided that both my father and Joseph must continue to the hospital and I should be brought home, I got worried. I was also warned not to tell my siblings about the accident until both of them had returned from the hospital.

I kept my promise and did not reveal the accident to anybody until they arrived

home late in the night, and they broke the news themselves.

6. The Journey to Koditaar

I we drove to Koditaar because my father was working on a possible transfer to take over a responsibility as the Crime Officer for Western and Central Region following his promotion from assistant superintendent to the rank of deputy superintendent of police.

His office would be located in Kondise but his residence at the Airport Ridge (bungalow no. 4) in Koditaar. These two cities are called “the twin cities” locally.

When we got to Koditaar, I was ed at a middle school at the Air Force Station. I attended this school with Rebecca Wilberforce (Colonel Thomas Wilberforce’s daughter), Steven Zoli, and Patricia Anane (classmates). Mr Addally was our teacher.

I started the school with mixed feelings—neither did I know whether I was going to be successful nor did I know whether my level of knowledge was up to their standard. On the other hand, I was happy that I was in the school and felt good that I was in a nice school.

I started the school with school materials (some books and some past examination papers) that friends gave me from the Dusiedu Memorial School at Arkwat.

Because I was always on my own, I had to rely on these materials together with new ones that I was to get from this new school for my success.

As usual, my dad was happy whenever I came home with good results but was very angry for bad results. He blamed me for not learning and for being a lazy and a good for nothing individual, but he did nothing to help improve upon my learning abilities.

He did very well to pay my school fees but threatened, though, that it would be better for me to go to learn a trade to start earning a living on my own after my tenth schooling year. He would always explain that he was not earning enough to take care of so many people.

One day, I came home with an excellent result from a trial (preparatory) examination for final-year pupils (Form four) that is for the Middle School Leaving Certificate. As it turned out that I became the best in the whole three classes (Forms four a, b, and c), my dad was very happy as he proudly told his friends and colleagues about my performance at school.

What he did not know was how I came out successfully with that result—I kept reading the past examination papers friends gave me from Arkwat over and over together with notes and other books I had to refer to.

I did not know that the teachers were going to use the same past questions for the test, so I was very fortunate, and I ended up breaking the record of the highest marks ever attained in that school’s history.

I became very famous and started making friends.

Unlike some school traditions, where continuous assessment was the order of the day in Western African Republic in those days in that school, it was one’s results after examinations that counted.

Gaining respect for one’s academic excellence at school was not necessarily based on one’s daily contributions and/or participation but on one’s examination results.

I noticed at some point that I always managed to excel in one or two subjects and succeeded a (or average results) in the rest.

The following were our neighbours at the Airport Ridge (bungalow no. 4), Major Thomas Wilberforce (bungalow no. 37), and Squadron Leader Bogar Lancelot (bungalow no. 36). Those two houses were facing our house (no. 37 to the left and no. 36 to the right) and bungalow no. 5 was on our immediate right.

The one living in number five was the General Manager of the Western Regional Development Corporation (WEREDEC). His daughter was Lionel’s girlfriend, and she was the one who taught me how to ride a bicycle.

Perhaps for security or social reasons, my dad did not want us to visit our neighbours, but we broke the rules on several occasions, and whenever we did and were caught, we were punished severely.

The feeling of living a successful life started in Koditaar. I became conscious of fashion but could not afford to live a fashion-conscious life. The only way I

could have lived a mode-conscious life was to a common entrance examination to gain ission to a secondary boarding school, but that was not going to be possible in my case since my dad kept repeating that he wanted me to learn a trade in general and carpentry in particular.

The carpentry profession itself is not a bad one, but because friends would have laughed at me, I did not want to dare into it.

I always felt intimidated, inferior, and worthless when my senior brothers returned home on vacations from their respective secondary schools and when I came into with friends from the neighbourhood and had to discuss or converse about their experiences at school.

They always dressed neatly and behaved differently. I also noticed that they had acquired a lot of information and knowledge.

The most painful and humiliating experience was whenever they referred to nonsecondary school pupils (primary and middle school goers) as ‘sceito’, Sceito was a negative name for public elementary schools.

I the only footwear I had those days was a spoilt pair of sandals, which I wore around on special occasions.

One day, I felt so embarrassed when I had my first date with Martha Lancelot (Squadron Leader Bogar Lancelot’s daughter). She had invited me to her to church (Roman Catholic). Though we were not Catholics, I decided to go to the church with her because I was interested in her.

That Sunday, when I saw her come from a distance, she was looking very beautiful as she was glamorously dressed for the occasion. On seeing her, I almost dodged, but there was no way I could because she had already seen me.

I was in a patched pair of sandals and knickers with a shirt without a singlet. My dad had refused to get me ready for church, so I had to rely on one of my casual outfits.

She was very surprised to see me dressed the way I did, and she did not hide her feelings. She told me that I was going to embarrass her, but, well, she was not worried about that.

She explained that she wanted to spend some time with me, so she declined to her parents to the church. I also told her I was sorry for my turnout and explained that they were all that I had.

The day did not go very well for us as her friends teased her for dating a poor guy, and I also felt bad because I was looking very odd.

After church, I went into my room, knelt down, and for the first time in my life, I prayed seriously and emotionally to God. I prayed and cried. I prayed to God to make me a manager when I grew up.

From that day onwards, I started looking for ways and means to become independent—to find something doing educationally and to find a secondary school with boarding facilities whose fees dad could pay easily. I wanted to be

away from home learning hard.

So at the age of 13, I started reading the newspapers (the Daily Burgle, the Western African Republican Times and the Mirror).

The foreign affairs section, which was always on the second page, and the ment sections attracted me so much. Soon, I developed great interest in knowing about other countries and also about local markets.

One day, I read about St John Paul’s City Secondary School in the newspapers and showed it to my dad, but he showed no interest. According to him, it was not a good school, so I started looking for the good ones, but he always found some reason for not liking any of them.

PART TWO Military Life

1 Enlistment into the Teenagers Group, Western African Republic Army

Then, finally, I found an ment in the Western African Republican Times about a forthcoming enlistment of 14 to 15 years old Western African Republicans into the Western African Republic Armed Forces at the Second Infantry Battalion–Mabibu Barracks to be trained at the Teenagers Group (TG) in Badamashi .

At a glance, I saw I was qualified, both by age and by educational background, but there were other factors too that were required for one’s selection: physical fitness, health, height, and examinations to .

I also read that successful applicants would undergo a three-year military and academic training at the Kattara Barracks, Fourth Infantry Battalion and would not have to pay any school fees but would rather be paid every two weeks as defined by the laws of the Western African Republic Armed Forces.

The advert was like magic. It caught my attention, and I could not resist its power of attraction. It gave me sleepless nights, and finally, I decided to go for it.

Without my father’s knowledge, I started getting ready mentally as well as materially, gathering all the necessary documents that were needed: birth certificate, school reports, testimonials, etc.

I got to the Mabibu Barracks at Apremdu near Koditaar to start the enlistment process.

We started with what was referred to as the ‘body selection’. We were made to take off our clothing, leaving only our underwear on and form a very long queue for height, age, body, and health check-up. The process was very strict, and though we had not yet started training, it looked almost like one!

Those of us who completed the first phase of the examinations successfully were invited to participate in the written examinations a few days later. We were examined on our knowledge of geography, foreign affairs, English, and mathematics.

From the thousands of participants coming from both the Central and Western Regions of Western African Republic, I came out first. I had two mistakes in mathematics only. So, once again, according to the military officers, I had broken the highest record of results ever attained by recruits in ‘recent years’.

Lieutenant Colonel Doctor Aukwah and his fellow officers invited me for an interview. They asked to see my father to discuss my results and intentions with him.

My father was shocked and disappointed in me because I did not inform him about what I was doing. He thought I was going to school, and he did not know about my visits to the military barracks.

At first he said he was not going because those people had no right to invite him and that they could also visit him at his office if they wanted.

So I went to my uncle Major Thomas Wilberforce and briefed him about everything that had taken place and about my father’s refusal to go to meet the military officers.

He got himself involved and visited my dad to discuss the issue. None of them knew about my results because I chose not to tell any of them. It was only at the barracks that my dad would get to know about them.

So when the date came for my dad to meet Lt Col Aukwah and the others, he dressed up in his police uniform, and we both drove in his official police car with his driver to Apremdu to the Mabibu Barracks.

The officers had wanted to convince him to my education to a secondary school but not to the TG. It was during the meeting that my dad was given my examination questions and answers to read personally.

With shock and surprise, he turned and looked at me for a few minutes, but, again, he was very quick to explain that he was not going to be in that financial position to further my education. He told the officers that he had noticed a certain positive change in me over the weeks and months but could not figure out what was behind it all.

To cut the long story short, they all agreed that I should be allowed to go to the TG.

In the presence of my father, the officers advised me to take my lessons and

training very seriously during training in Badamashi.

They explained that it would be possible for me to pursue my education to a university level, if I wanted.

The parental advice of the officers was good, and it motivated me greatly, so my mind was set on becoming a great person because I thought there should be no reason why I should not make it to university.

From the over fifteen thousand applicants from the Western and Central Regions trooping the Mabibu Barracks for the purpose of being enlisted into the Armed Forces, only ten of us were selected.

Selected recruits from the Western and Central regions were:

1. Bruce Wilberforce (Koditaar–Airport Ridge) 2. Bernard Addika (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 3. Edmund Djatany (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 4. Bertrand Kuku Adessa (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 5. Oladiponu Edwards (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 6. Robert Mawunka (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 7. Masembat Janrah (Koditaar–Mabibu Barracks) 8. Adonis Pamha (Tanus Estuary)

9. Sanju Smith (Zimma) 10. Michael Haggle (Arkwat)

Upon completion of the enlistment process, we were asked by the officers to go home and wait for our appointment letters.

The enlistment process was completed in April 1979, and we were told that training had been planned to start the same year in September.

While we were waiting for the appointment letters, Captain W. K. Avuh led the abortive May fifteenth coup d’état. He was arrested by Major Omar Mukhtar and kept in custody together with his group and was put on trial for treason.

And then in the night of 3 June 1979, other rank soldiers and Junior Officers of the military staged an uprising during which Avuh was released. Together with the other rank soldiers, who had released him, he ran to the Western African Republic Broadcasting Corporation where he announced the Uprising on the national radio.

So the other ranks and Junior Officers overthrew the Military Council (MC II) government of General W. W. N. Mohammed and replaced it with the Brigade Force Committee (BFC) and made Avuh their head.

For obvious reasons, all istrative and logistics arrangements for us to start our training as scheduled were kept on hold until after the BFC had handed over power to Prof Olu Tukunya as President of Western African Republic three months after the June fourth bloody uprising.

During the aftermath of the uprising and while waiting for our appointment letters, I made several visits to my newly found friends at the Mabibu Barracks.

During such visits, I saw first-hand the life of soldiers during the aftermath of an uprising and had a taste of how things generally are in military barracks.

These encounters with the army also added to my level of morale and motivation for desiring to become a soldier.

I saw a lot of activities involving soldiers and civilians during the aftermath. Some were very amazing, and they influenced my life greatly.

During that aftermath, I would take the yellow pages and look for telephone numbers of business women and men in the Kondise or Koditaar area and call them and pretend I was an army officer calling from the barracks.

Sometimes, I would instruct them to report at the barracks at a certain date and time, and other times, I would ask them to remain at their homes for interrogations and/or investigations by a group of soldiers that had been dispatched to them.

Those times there was something called ‘house cleaning exercise’, which was an integral part of the June fourth activities. Some of those whom I called were pretty much aware of the exercise and did not show any sign of fear or worry. While some did, others reacted aggressively on the phone and hung up.

Sometimes, I introduced myself as a lieutenant and on other occasions as a lance corporal. I am not very sure if they noticed the voice of a 14 year old, and because I was not at the places and/or locations I had instructed them to report to, I cannot be sure as to whether they complied with the orders or not.

I was not sure of what I was going to become i.e., which wing of the Armed Forces (Air Force, Navy, or Infantry) I would be settled in. The sound and rumours of war did not also disturb me at all. I would say that I was rather impatient at the delays being caused due to the uprising.

One day, during an argument with one of my senior brothers (Morgan) about being brave and qualified to become a soldier, he asked me to strip and walk naked from bungalow no. 4 to the Loh-Moah Police Station.

To him, that was the only possible and logical proof of my readiness to become a soldier and a brave one at that, so I did it. The distance was about six kilometres, and it was on a main street. I did not think about the shame, the embarrassment, and/or the disgrace it might bring upon my father as the crime officer-in-charge of the Western and Central Regions of Western African Republic.

As to whether the idea of walking naked in a main street in broad daylight had anything to do with being brave, I did not know. Certainly, the ability to walk naked in a main street without being shy or being afraid saved my life five years later in Western African Republic!

Another incident occurred when I was challenged to prove that I was ready for the army. This time around, it was my father himself who wanted the proof. He demanded that I weeded a plot about the size of ten thousand square metres of

both green and stubborn grass within two days.

My only tools were a cutlass and a stone for sharpening it when it got blunt.

I starting the work one morning when my father had left for work. By the time he returned, I had completed the task. I was just 14, and it was my first time of doing such a thing. I felt very proud of myself and concluded that they were giving me the approval and appreciating that I was ready to become a soldier.

The appointment letter arrived in November. In it, our enlistment into the Western African Republic Armed Forces was formally confirmed, and we were asked to report for training at the Fourth Infantry Battalion–Kattara Barracks in Badamashi on 31 December 1979.

The letter sent from the Ministry of Defence (MOD), Nkran also required us to go to the training grounds with a list of items.

The items were:

1. A pair of black shoes, 2. A kiwi shoe polish, 3. A tooth paste and a tooth brush, 4. A pair of tros, 5. A pair of knickers,

6. A shirt, 7. A singlet, 8. A bucket, 9. A pair of slippers, 10. A belt, and 11. A travelling bag.

The items that my father was able to purchase for me were as follows:

12. A net bag (also known as ‘Chaka’), 13. A pair of knickers, 14. A singlet, 15. A bucket, 16. A pair of slippers, 17. A short sleeves shirt, and 18. A pair of sandals.

According to him, it was not necessary for him to buy me the remainder of the things because I was not going to use them anyway. He was also of the opinion that the army must and would provide my needs.

He not getting me my needs according to the list did not disturb me at all. Being

a senior police officer, who rose through the ranks, I thought he was right and he knew better.

Sometimes I would wonder, though, why the MOD would require us to go to training with those items, knowing that it was the responsibility of the army to provide our needs.

In December, I formally informed my class teacher (Mr Addally) of my intention to leave the school by the end of the month to pursue a military training and career.

The news spread through the school like bushfire!

Some teachers were thinking of doing what Lt Col Dr Aukwah and others could not do (to convince my father to finance my education), but there were some pupils who thought I had taken the right decision.

At the end of the day, they all agreed and accepted my decision and organised a farewell party for me.

2 The Journey to the Teenagers Group—Badamashi

On 31 December 1979, my father and my mother-in-law (Auntie Elizabeth) drove me in my father’s light green Peugeot 404 saloon car with the registration number GS 1651 to the State Transport Corporation station to board a bus to Badamashi .

Auntie Elizabeth gave me an amount of twenty Western African Republic kalpe as a gift, hugged me, and as usual gave me a piece of advice and said goodbye. In fact, she asked me to promise her that I would take good care of myself, which I did.

My father had already given me the same advice days before the actual journey, but, as usual, he repeated the same and added that I should take training and education very seriously. They both wanted me to write to them whenever I could.

They could not wait for the bus to be full, so, again, they said goodbye and left.

I was in the Badamashi-bound queue waiting for boarding when they left. In about forty-five minutes, we started boarding.

Before the boarding, I saw a soldier in uniform. He was neatly dressed, his uniform was well ironed too, and his black leather boots were shining as though

they were a mirror.

This man was a sergeant. He had on his shoulders (on top of his rank) and on his black beret (on top of the crest) a name written in a shining yellowish gold material: Ranger.

I had seen a lot of soldiers, but this type was so new for me. He was looking very different, and he was not an officer too, so I decided to talk with him. At first, it was difficult to approach him because I was not ready for any form of embarrassment that morning, but since I could not resist the pressure to talk with him, I finally gathered courage and greeted him after he had responded to my smile.

I removed my appointment letter and showed it to him. I told him I was on my way to the TG and I was wondering if he knew where the school was and whether he would be so kind to help me get there once we arrived in Badamashi.

He introduced himself to me as Wahab and told me he graduated from the same school, so I should not worry and that he would take me there since he was also on his way to the Kattara barracks.

The man was very friendly and so kind to me. In fact, he arranged for me to be given a seat next to him in front of the bus.

He asked whether I was the one who came first in the examinations and whether I was the one whose father was the police officer. So again, I told him everything and also about my reasons for desiring to become a soldier.

He told me a lot about the TG and about things I should expect. He told me about how hard the training was but he was also quick to add that it was not something I could not do.

At some point during the journey, I fell asleep and dreamt about things like earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, heavy rains, lightning, and thunders. I also dreamt about sitting in an airplane and flying very low and sometimes very high.

It was a very long journey for me. We were travelling from Koditaar on mainly third class roads from the Western Region through cities and towns to Badamashi in the Onila Region. The distance is about three hundred kilometres.

We had stopovers or breaks to take in some fresh air and also to eat and refresh ourselves since the journey was supposed to be interesting, but given the anxiety, the concerns, the thoughts, and everything that were on the mind of a 14-yearold teen, I must it that I did not enjoy the journey at all.

I had a host of questions and issues on my mind. I was reflecting on my decision to become a soldier and reflecting on the whole enlistment process. Occasionally, I would also reflect on my life at home with my father and my stepmother together with my siblings. I also reflected over the school system that I had left behind and the one before me and how I would become a soldier pretty soon. I entertained mixed feelings of fear, worry, and happiness at the same time.

We set off from Koditaar in the morning around 1000 hours and arrived in Badamashi around 1730 hours.

As Sgt Wahab had promised, he hired a taxi which drove us to the Kattara barracks. We got there shortly after 1800 hours. I was not actually late because, by the appointment, we were supposed to report before 18.30 hours.

We got to a spot which was about five hundred metres to the Teenagers Group grounds. From where we stood, we could see the training grounds without any obstruction because it was only the Fourth Battalion parade grounds that separated us from the main entrance of the TG.

According to Sgt Wahab, the parade grounds (the square) was holy grounds, so I should not use it, but if I chose to use it, then I should not walk on it but keep running (doubling) until I finished crossing it.

He shook hands with me, wished me all the best of luck, and said goodbye.

I was very excited and had great anxiety, so much that I had totally forgotten that it was not allowed to walk on the square.

Halfway through while walking towards the main entrance, I saw a sign above the main gate that read ‘Teenagers Group—Leadership by Example’ and beneath the ‘Leadership by Example’ were the words ‘the lion’s den’.

I was reading and iring what I was seeing when suddenly a group of people (five of them) emerged from behind the gate and started shouting ‘double, double, double’.

I ed then that I was not permitted to walk on the square. I knew what they meant by ‘double’ because I was the son of a police officer, and I had also heard a lot of military words and commands during the enlistment at Koditaar and my subsequent visits to my newly found friends at the barracks.

So I ran towards them, holding my appointment letter with my left hand and my luggage with my right hand. The name of the gate where they stood and commanded me to ‘double’ towards them was Barmsh Gate.

3 Teenagers Group Inside the Lion’s Den

1. Initial Reception

When I got there, they were not interested in reading my appointment letter. They simply collected it, squeezed it, threw it away, and started beating me with their hands and with their rifle slings.

The men were neatly dressed in starched and well-ironed blue physical training pants or PT Pants as they were called and olive green or white T-shirts with wellpolished (shining) military boots.

I guess I had a blackout the first ten minutes of my arrival at the gate, and when I gained consciousness, they commanded me to carry my luggage.

The teens ‘doubled’ me to another square which was about just ten metres behind the Barmsh Gate called The Red Square.

There were other recruits (my would-be mates) already being punished there. Under their supervision and instructions, I put my luggage behind the square and ed them.

We were forced or drilled to do sit-ups, arm-pressings, and what they called hops. At the same time, they used the rifle slings on those of us who, according to them, were not doing it well.

They explained that they were taking us through a process to remove the civilian life from our lives.

At some point, I thought I was going to die. I had embarked on a long distance journey, had had very little rest, and almost nothing to eat and drink, so I was wondering if that was the most civilized way to welcome and/or receive teenagers into a training institution.

Indeed, the behaviour of trainers at the Teenagers Group, the attitude, and the overall mind-set left a lot to be desired.

While the punishment lasted, others who had also arrived were brought to us. I did not like what I was going through and what I was experiencing, but, then, I thought it was way too soon to question my decision to come to this training school, so I kept hoping that they were going to stop the punishment anytime soon. Like many others, I cried like a baby.

Later in the evening, when they felt we had had enough of their torture and brutality, they marched us with our luggage to the last block (the Kranka block) and gave us sleeping rooms in the interim.

They explained that what they were doing to us had nothing to do with wickedness, but it was all about making us good soldiers.

2. First Day at the TG Canteen

They shouted ‘fall in for chop’ and started counting from one to ten. On the tenth count, not all actually knew what they wanted from us. They got us together and again explained that whenever we heard the command to ‘fall in for chop’, they expected all of us to assemble in front of our block to be marched to the canteen for dinner.

Like any other military drill, they wanted us to be completely assembled in smart soldier-like and uniform manner before the tenth count. Anyone who was not in the queue before the last count would not march but would follow the platoon, hopping.

After that explanation, they dispersed us and put us through the same stress again, and when we were ready, they ‘doubled’ us to the canteen which was about 150 metres away from the Kranka block.

That day, we were given old and used mess pans or tins and drinking cups to start with, and we were also served with very hot rice, beef, and a stew made of green leaves.

Food was served from left to right, from the front roll to the last recruit standing on the last roll to the right. At the Teens Lines, food or ration collection was also a drill—you must come to attention and pay compliments to the cook, who was also a permanent staff, before stretching forth your right hand with the mess pan or tin.

After the collection of the ration, we did not just walk away, but, again, we proceeded or moved to the dining tables, marching in smart soldier-like and uniform manner.

At the Teens Lines, the final-year teens were the first to receive their ration, followed by the second year teens (intermediates), and then the recruits.

When we had all been served with our food and were seated to eat, the seniors would come to our area in the canteen and collect our meat from us, and then, by command, they would ask us to start eating. Often times, they wanted us to finish eating by the count of ten.

But as hot as the food was, we could not finish eating before the tenth count. Whatever was left in the ‘mess pans or tins were thrown into the trash bins.

After that, we were assembled and then marched to the last block to get ready for bathing.

3. My First Day at the Bathhouse—the ‘Holy Baptism’

Just as it was with the dinner, so did they take us through the same process and marched us to the bathhouse which was in front of the final-year block (Kotoka Block).

Again, everything at the Teens Lines was a drill, and it was punishment too. By the time the bathing ceremony (holy baptism) was over, I physically looked like

one who had just come out of a boxing ring with pockets of blood coming out of my nose and mouth. My whole body had been subjected to extreme punishment and torture—that was something I had never experienced before in my life.

We were then fully dressed for the ‘baptism’. They ‘doubled’ us to a muddy place called the garden of fatigue for another round of torture.

This means that we were made to roll and crawl in the mud and on the green grass. We received lashes and slings for about an hour. As very dirty and muddy as we had become, we were, again, assembled and ‘doubled’ to our block for a roll call and then sent into our rooms to ‘sleep’, yet that was not how the first day ended for us at the Teens Lines.

The first thing our seniors did, after they had distributed us into our rooms, was to impose a night curfew on us. The curfew was not imposed because they wanted us to rest. No, it was not so. As a matter of fact, they imposed the curfew so as to ensure that we did not run or escape their night punishments.

Throughout that night, some seniors sneaked into our block to look for some individual recruits to beat. So for fear of being the next on any of their lists, I could not sleep well. I panicked, turned, and tossed over all night long.

4. Some Beliefs at the TG

The idea of not allowing recruits to sleep well was part of a cluster of beliefs and expectations that were prevalent at the TG. Some beliefs held that recruits must not be allowed to sleep well because it would be the same during battle. To some, including our instructors, when a recruit was allowed to sleep well, he

would become a lazy soldier.

The permanent staff, which comprised of non-commissioned officers and commissioned officers (training instructors) at the TG, had a divided opinion on that notion.

As in all societies, there were those who generally loved to see people suffer; hence, they encouraged torture at the Teens Lines and had fun with it.

There were those who could not separate torture from training. In fact, they thought it was the same. Thus, they held that it was all about making people brave, as long as it was done at the Teens Lines.

Obviously, those who fell within this category did not see anything wrong with punishments and treating humans as though they were animals—not because they were wicked and/or evil but because they did not know the difference.

And then there were those I call wise and intelligent who not only knew the difference between torture and training but did all they could to put a stop to the inhuman treatment of teens at the Teens Lines.

They, however, failed because they were scarcely at the Teens Lines and perhaps received no official reports about the continuous abuse of recruits at the Teens Lines, and no recruit dared report or reveal the evil deeds to them.

This is not to suggest that they did not know what was going on at the Teens

Lines. They knew about everything that was going on, but the rules they implemented had little or no effect at all. At the end of the day, these atrocities ended up being approved tacitly by majority of the instructors.

For many, Teens Lines was a hellish realm where teens struggled in a tooth-andnail battle; everyone fought to get respect, and toughness won prestige. Teens Lines was a jungle where the powerful prevailed and fear ruled. It was a psychopath’s paradise, where cool-headed cruelty won the day.

After all said and done, we were given a very short time to sleep. I woke up from another knocking on the doors and shouts to fall in for road running, to start the day’s routine.

5. Morning Rituals at TG—Preparing for the Day

After a few hours of sleep or no sleep, we were woken by the duty Teen NCOs to start a new day.

We ran and did endurance walks to and fro the barracks singing popular military songs to the Karah (residence of the Onilanfia, the king of the Onilan) area, a suburb of Badamashi, covering a distance of about twenty kilometres.

When we were done with the early morning exercise and had bathed, we were marched to the canteen for breakfast.

Breakfast at TG was always hot tea or coffee served with fresh milk, eggs, and

bread with margarine or butter.

As with lunch and dinner, recruits were always expected to finish eating breakfast before the tenth count by the duty teen non-commissioned officers (TNCOs).

The eggs were always seized and taken away by the seniors or intermediates present. As for the meals and breakfast that could not be consumed before the tenth count, they were either thrown into a gutter, which was referred to as ‘Abortion Gutter’ or into a trash bin.

The gutter was given the name ‘Abortion Gutter’ because water ing through it was mainly from the Agokoli-Wonoe Memorial Hospital, where it was widely held that abortions took place on daily basis.

After breakfast, training continued in accordance with the day’s training agenda.

6. Military Drills—Marching

When the initiation process and the training plan were completed, formal training started. The first on the time table were drills.

We had, at least, learnt the basics from the seniors while in PT pants and singlets, so the formal part appeared very simple. The only thing that made it a bit complicated was the fact that we were being watched for possible promotions or awards when the first year was over.

The first official training was scheduled to start with drills on the Fourth Battalion of Infantry (4BN) square. Before commencing with the drills, we were introduced to the official Permanent Staff (PS) who would be responsible for our intake.

First, we were given the name Dankada Platoon. The name was given to the intake by our newly appointed platoon commander, Captain Frank Ensrowuo, who was posted to the TG from the Second Infantry Battalion, Koditaar.

Sergeant Tinfinsi was introduced to us as our Platoon Sergeant and Corporal Agortikeh as his assistant.

These two non-commissioned officers (NCOs) and the Captain were the official Permanent Staff (PS) who would accompany us on our three-year military and academic training at the TG.

Major Enusonu was the Officer Commanding of the entire TG, but he was later replaced by Major London Trevoson.

Captain Ranger Adukunu was the Adjutant. Lt Akatona was the education officer, and his assistant was Staff Sergeant Bortuni.

Corporal Donkor was the Provost and Corporal Agbebiade was the chief cook.

Staff Sergeant Betornye was the Physical Training Instructor (PTI), and his

assistant was Sergeant Kukutebi R. A. Corporal Bedia-Anotwe was the Koblar.

We started drills the same day. They taught us how to swing arms at shoulder level, mark time and continuous march, slow march and coming to attention, saluting at a halt and on a march, paying attention (chest out and chin in) and responding to compliments in general, and rifle drills—marching with the SelfLoading-Rifle (SLR) and presenting and laying down arms.

While our seniors beat us with anything they could lay hands on, the permanent staff or the instructors beat us with their pace sticks and rifle slings. Sometimes, they would beat us with their hands.

What our seniors and the training instructors hated the most was mistakes. As a recruit, it was an offence to make a mistake at any given time.

Whenever a mistake was made, that particular trainee was referred to as ‘wawa’, which means a wood.

The said recruit would be brought before the whole platoon, ridiculed, disgraced, insulted, and punished.

In some instances, the whole platoon would be punished for the mistake of an individual.

At the TG, teens were always beaten and/or punished for mistakes they made or just for the amusement of wicked and evil individuals.

In one of our training days, I made a mistake and was brought before the whole platoon to be ridiculed.

Apart from Adonis Pamha, whose father died when he was a military captain, I was the only recruit whose father was an officer (Chief Superintendent of Police), so the provost created a song with just a few words and asked the platoon to sing it in mockery of me:

‘Wilberforce, so so iced water.’

The song was composed to reflect the kind of lifestyle they thought I lived before coming to the TG.

Some officers lived in bungalows so they concluded that I lived in comfort and drank iced water and that explained why I made some of the mistakes that I made.

7. Academic Education

It was for a good purpose that the founders of the Teens or Teenagers Group included academic education in the training syllabus. Its importance, therefore, cannot be overemphasized here.

But what I personally saw and experienced during my three-year training in

Badamashi was a big joke. It was what we referred to as ‘ing through the motion’—it was there, so it had to be done, good or bad!

Take for instance, anyone who had had about three hours of maximum sleep within twenty-four hours of involved sessions of military training that included physical exercises, swimming, marching and drills, weapons training plus punishments, extreme fear, stress and anxiety, etc. What could you expect this individual to learn in, for instance, two hours in a classroom that was very conducive and/or convenient for sleeping?

You might probably say, well, it depended on the physical and mental condition of the recruit. I might ask you whether the programme was designed to benefit the army and for that matter the nation or it was designed to benefit a few individual recruits, and what if these few individuals were handpicked by some instructors and prepared or programmed to their examinations very well?

I my first experience in the classroom.

We were marched by our platoon sergeant, after a drill and a marching session on the 4BN square, to the education block and handed over to the education instructors.

It was a very hot afternoon, and we had already had an early morning road running and endurance walks including the works on the square, so we were very tired and exhausted.

And as it was with the collection of rations per roll by roll, so it also was with the taking of our seats in the classroom.

We had windows on the left and on the right of the classroom with the blackboard in front.

So about fifteen minutes later, after we had all taken our seats and had started enjoying the fresh air that was blowing through the class, we started sleeping. As a matter of fact, others were even snoring. It was a very tranquil and conducive environment to sleep and against all resistance we started sleeping.

The education instructors were kind and gentle. In fact, no education instructor raised his hands against a recruit as far as I know.

What they did, when a recruit was sleeping, was to ask him to stand on his feet. That way, the drill instructors took note of those standing and prepared some punishment sessions for them.

In the worst case, the education instructor asked the sleeping recruit to run around the education block.

That day, the whole class slept!

It is not my intention to objectively depict the above scenario as a permanent situation in absolute , but it was a recurrence.

In short, I would submit that, in most cases, teens ed their exams with the help of ‘keys’, as they were referred to in those days.

A key is a piece of paper or any object including hands that trainees jotted possible answers on, smuggled into classrooms for possible reference during examinations.

At the education wing, we learnt English, mathematics, map reading, military history, first aid, voice procedure, and a few others that I cannot now.

The remainder on the training agenda was field craft, tactics, weapon training (including internal security, physical training or PT), and sports.

8. Promotions at the TG

As part of the training, teens were promoted during the last two years at the training grounds.

The criteria and process for selecting deserving and/or hard working recruits for promotion were not transparent.

Teens were promoted from the rank of a Teens Lance Corporal (T/LL) to Teens Company Sergeant Major (T/CSM).

The training programme stipulated that deserving Teens should be promoted because of their excellent academic performance in the classrooms, their overall performance in military tactics and methods of instructions, their turnout in

military clothing (i.e. neatness in appearance, etc.), their performance in drills on the square or on the parade grounds, their knowledge in weapons, their performance in field training and knowledge in field craft and map reading, their personal attitudes, and their inter-personal relations with mates and instructors.

The promotion process should be two-phased: identification and recommendation by instructors and then by the recruits (peer recommendation).

To me, not all teens who were promoted deserved their promotions!

It was no secret that some of those who had promotions had very personal relations with the instructors, and in most cases, they bought goats and other valuable items for them as presents.

In short, while some genuinely qualified and deserved their promotions, others did not.

8.1 Teen Non-Commissioned Officers (T/NCOs)

Teens Company Sergeant Major (T/CSM)

The promoted teens, from Lance Corporal to Staff Sergeant, worked in tandem to assist the Teens Company Sergeant Major in managing the three platoons.

The T/CSM conducted roll calls regularly to ensure that all teens were in the den

and were ‘healthy’, and depending on the time and situation or the purpose of the roll call, he handed the platoons over to a duty NCO—a permanent staff on duty.

The T/CSM was also responsible for discipline and cleanliness at the Teens Lines. He organised general cleaning, conducted roll calls and check-ins, supervised feeding, assigned guard duties, and made sure that all daily routines and rules were followed.

On a graduation day (ing-out parade), the T/CSM commanded the ingout platoon while two officers commanded the intermediate and junior platoons and while the Officer Commanding TG commanded the whole parade.

Portrait photographs of all T/CSMs were framed and hanged at the Information Room of the TG.

The T/CSMs were usually awarded the overall best teen, and promoted L/l or l on the day of graduation.

Recruits were marched to the information room and informed about their excellence and achievements during their time at the Teens Lines.

The Teen NCOs were responsible for the maintenance of the three platoons (every platoon has an L/l, a l, and a Sergeant). They rotated in their roles as caretakers of the individual platoons until a B/CSM was elected from amongst the teen platoon sergeants.

When a T/CSM was elected, the remainder of the NCOs were given permanent roles as caretakers of the platoons until they ed out.

The NCOs made sure that each platoon followed the daily routines. They conducted inspections of the rooms, boots, uniforms, and all military kits.

In short, the teen NCOs assisted the permanent staff in managing the affairs of junior leaders at the Teens Lines.

Teen Masters

With the exception of final-year trainees, it was traditional and /or common place that intermediates had masters who were in their final year and recruits (first year) also had the same in addition to their Intermediate masters.

Masters gave protection to their servants in exchange for their services (washing, ironing, shoe polishing, cleaning of their rooms, and laying of their beds and kits, etc.).

My Senior Masters

My master was Teen Staff Sergeant Leonard Kuwuameh.

Others, who showed interest and helped me in diverse ways, were Teen Corporal Tango, Teen Sergeant Niminado Dualah, Teen Ransford Artillery, Teen Corporal

Godfrey Dantey, William Grafus a.k.a. Sly, and Douglas Attonuh.

All of these relocated later in life.

Several years, after we had all ed out and were working as soldiers in Nkran, Niminado Dualah and Godfrey Dantey influenced my life a great deal.

And several years later, when we both met in exile in Caucasian Republic, I also influenced Tango’s life significantly.

Leonard Kuwuameh became an officer in the army, and when he finally retired from the army,he became a pastor in Western African Republic.

I was involved in a coup plot to overthrow the ruling government in 1983 with Niminado Dualah, Douglas Attonuh, William Grafus, and Godfrey Dantey. That was when the Avuh regime resorted to tribalism to sustain it in the face of what Avuh perceived as ‘a Northern threat’.

I met Niminado Dualah and Ransford Artillery in London and also met Godfrey Dantey in Luameh, Kroto.

Niminado Dualah became the Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Western African Republic Assured Loans (WARHL) in Nkran.

Ransford Artillery became a consultant in London.

Godfrey Dantey relocated to Toronto while Tango relocated to London through Zorrenting.

William Grafus was killed in 1983 at the Border Guards Headquarters by WO1 Evans Obimodja, who became a member of the ruling government.

My Intermediate Masters

My Intermediate Master was Corporal Kpanu with whom I had very little to do, but as with the seniors, I also had some intermediates who liked me. They were Mahama Adamu and Naberu Poloni a.k.a. Naberu Sr.

Kpanu relocated several years later to the United States.

I lived together with Mahama Adamu several years later in Luameh where he became my best friend.

Naberu Poloni died several years later while in Luameh.

9. Friends at the TG

As in any other institution, making friends and/or networking were also

necessary at the TG.

We were too young to understand what networking was all about. As a matter of fact, I cannot recall anyone mentioning ‘networking’ at the TG, but, in one way or the other, we networked to a certain degree with ourselves, our intermediates, our seniors, and, in some instances, with permanent staff of the TG and soldiers.

My friends from my platoon were Xande Andeh a.k.a. Lester, Edmund Djatany, and Robert Ontario.

Other distant friends from the same platoon were Charles Abdulai a.k.a. Guevara, Geraldo Badjanu, and Justice Azoglidja.

Xande Andeh relocated, several years later, to Italy and became a pastor.

As said, I was involved in a coup plot in February 1983 to topple the regime. Others involved with me included Charles Abdulai and Morgan Agbedefu. The latter betrayed our plot to overthrow the government.

I was also involved in a plot to break jail in June 1983 with Geraldo Badjanu and James Gameli.

Geraldo Badjanu was killed a year later by the ruling government together with his cousin Corporal Castro Umaru Omar.

10. Brief History—Teens Company

Teens Company was formed in December 1952 during the era of British colonial rule before Western African Republic attained her independence as Western African Republic.

The aim of forming the Teens Company was to train teenagers between the ages of 14 and 17 from the barracks and also children of civilians as soldiers.

The teens were trained for four years.

Western African Republic had no Navy or Air Force when the Teens Company was founded.

The formation of the Teens Company was initiated by the British Colonial Government in line with a similar programme in the United Kingdom (UK) as an apprenticeship school.

There was no parliament at the time of the formation of Teens Company as Western African Republic was still under colonial rule.

The head of Government was the Governor-General representing the Queen of England.

The General Officer Commanding the army at the time was General Langdon. He left the country after Western African Republic attained independence.

The first Officer Commanding (OC) of Teens Company was Major G. M. Michaels. He enlisted the first intake in December 1952, but the actual training started in January 1953.

The first Adjutant of Teens Company was a Western African Republican, Lieutenant Ratty, who later became a Lieutenant General.

After four years of training, the teens graduated (ed-out) and were posted to various trades and infantry units in the Western African Republic Armed Forces.

The trade units specifically were:

1. Electrical and Mechanical Engineering, 2. Field Engineering Regiment, 3. Pay Corp, and 4. Signal Regiment.

Before ing out, every intake selected one teen as the most outstanding teen (best teen) for the duration of the training, and he was presented with a shield which was kept in a room called the ‘information room’.

The first four intakes were those of 1953, 1954, 1955, and 1956 and were housed and trained at the Badamashi Fort.

The Fort was later converted to a military museum, and all other intakes were trained at newly built four-block houses within Kattara Barracks where the institution remained until its closure in 1983.

The nominal roll of the first intake (1953) was thirty-three (33) but the number was reduced as some Teens deserted during training as they could not cope with its intensity.

The first intake to out was the 1953 intake in December 1958.

The first best teen to be selected among the first intake was Teen Leadsward Gaflikah. He was posted to Field Engineers Regiment and later retired with the rank of Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM).

The first Teen-CSM was Teen Abdulai of the 1956 intake. He was Teen-CSM for a year when his intake ed out.

During the first two and half years of training, intakes 1953 and 1954 were not issued with boots until the third year on 5 May 1955, when they were all issued with two pairs of boots.

Later on, lanyards, blue berets, and cane sticks were also issued. Blue berets were not in the army in those days, and only the teens had it.

The name of the training school was changed from Teens Company to Teenagers Group in 1960, and the training duration was also reduced from four to three years.

11. My First Leave

Every year, teens were given a two-week vacation. We were informed about it, and we started preparing excitingly for it.

Going on leave at the TG was like winning a ticket to the moon. The countdown to the leave begins about one month before the leave starts.

Together with my mates from Koditaar, we planned our trip and included a list of items we wanted to buy for ourselves and for our loved ones.

For the purpose of sending us home on vacations, our authorities advised us to keep the salaries we received every two weeks aside so that we could buy things with them while on leave.

The amount involved was little, but at least, it was better than going home with empty hands.

I managed to buy a second hand pair of tros, a second hand pair of shoes, a second hand T-shirt, a second hand belt, and a ‘charley wor-tee’ (slippers). I also

bought a kiwi shoe polish which played a very important role during my two weeks of leave in Koditaar.

Teens were not permitted to take any military kits home. We knew the law, but we wanted to go and show off, so we broke it.

We managed to hide our olive green camouflaged uniforms, boots, and head gears.

We did not like the military belts, so we improvised fine belts from car seat belts and hooks removed from original military belts. We then added some puttees and haversacks to make the kits complete.

Some even added mess tins and toy pistols to their leave kits.

And when the day and time was up for us to proceed on leave, we dressed first in mufti to friends in Badamashi where we undressed and redressed in full military outfit.

Some took their kits home first and dressed in military outfit there whenever they wanted.

Again, words alone cannot describe the joy of going home—it was amazing!

In the form of threats, our seniors had made serious attempts at reminding us that

we were not going on pension—a way of putting fear into us, a way of reminding us that we were going to come and meet them again. But, who cared? The most important thing was to go on that leave, and I was glad it came to .

I embarked on the journey with my mates en route to the Western and Central Regions from where we had all come.

I arrived in Koditaar at the State Transport Corporation and boarded a ‘tro-tro’ (inter-city bus) to Loh-Moah station but alighted at the Loh-Moah Police Station.

My Koditaar mates continued to ‘Apremdu’ to the Mabibu Barracks.

I had dressed up like one going to the battle field. The only kit that was missing was a helmet.

With my haversack behind me, I started on a four-kilometre walk homewards. I was told at the TG that soldiers did not pay compliments to the police, so on my way home, I ignored the police.

We were based at the Airport Ridge (a residential area for Police, Army, Navy, Air Force as well as some wealthy civilian officers), so it was obvious that I would come into with the officer I could not avoid to greet.

In the military, paying of compliments to seniors in rank is law. I had no problem with that; in fact, I knew how to do it well. But I had a problem. I was more concerned with officers or soldiers who would probably question my authority to

dress in military kits.

Surprisingly, none of the officers I met on my way home had interest in how I was dressed. In fact, an officer offered to give me a lift in a car he was driving.

The four-kilometre journey was very interesting. Sometimes, I felt like running, like dancing, like jogging, and even marching.

At the same time, I did not want to be seen as though something was wrong with me. I was in a hurry to go home, and at the same time, I wanted the area guys to see me in uniform too.

It was like I was going insane.

When I finally got home, my dad had not yet arrived from work, so I called his office from home and informed him of my arrival. He was aware I was coming on leave that day because I had sent him a letter, and he had responded.

He was about to close for the day when I called him, so he asked me to expect him soon.

We, the two of us, were very excited, and obviously, we were looking pretty much forward to seeing each other.

His journey from Kondise to Koditaar Airport Ridge was going to take long; it

was a journey that was going to be delayed by traffic as well as distance, I said to myself.

I decided that I was not going to undress until he arrived home because I wanted him to see me in my uniform before I undressed.

My junior sister, Stephanie, was at home when I arrived, and she was very excited too.

We engaged each other in a conversation. She told me about everything that had taken place at home while I was away, and I also told her about what I had been going through in Badamashi.

In no time, I started putting things in order at home, and I also made a plan to embark on a house cleaning exercise the following day, which fell on a Saturday.

I thought I should let them see my worth by showing them what cleanliness and neatness were all about.

I decided not to eat until my dad had arrived. At that time, my dad was still with my stepmother (Auntie Elizabeth), and for one reason or the other, I had mentally started disapproving of their relationship (marriage).

What should I do at the sight of my dad, knowing he was a senior police officer? I asked myself.

Should I salute him?

Should I salute my own father?

Again, do soldiers salute or pay compliments to police officers?

At the end of my deliberations, I decided that I was going to salute him in a smart, soldier-like manner to show him I was on my way to becoming a real soldier.

They arrived in his Peugeot 404 light green saloon car with the registration number GS 1651.

He was not in uniform, as usual, and this was because the special forces, ‘the Unique Service’ unit of the Police Service, did not wear uniform.

My leave was two weeks only, and I spent it with my parents and siblings and also with civilian and military friends.

At the time of returning to the Teens Lines, my dad’s bungalow and his police gear were very clean and shining.

I had happy as well as sad moments during the leave. I pretty much enjoyed the reunion with friends and family.

I was tuned and screwed up so much so that I could not accept mentally as well as psychologically that I was on vacation.

As early as 5.00 a.m., I would wake up and embark on a road running because I wanted to maintain fitness.

And then, later in the day, when I was less busy and still at home, I would be rehearsing military drills.

When time was up for me to return to training, I was full of mixed feelings. I was excited about going to learn new things for my military growth, and at the same time, I was entertaining fears in me. I was afraid of the torture that awaited me.

My time was up, and together with my platoon mates from Koditaar, we returned to Badamashi.

12. Second and Final Year

1. Handling Weapons

We continued with training, and increasingly, we got used to life within the lion’s den.

We went to the range and fired live ammunitions under strict supervision.

I the first day I fired live ammunition. Generally, every soldier was happy to fire live ammunition, but when they tried it for the first time, most of them went home with pains all over their body.

That day, I had a swollen face as if I had been beaten by a heavyweight boxer.

I could hardly see with my right eye.

Firing live ammunition was an exercise I loved doing so much—an exercise I would eventually become second best in, in the whole platoon.

We also had series of bush exercises as a platoon and also together with the intermediates and our seniors on separate occasions.

During bush exercises, we put into practice everything we had learnt theoretically (map reading, field craft, tactics, marksmanship, etc.).

What was absent from our bush exercises was drills (marching, etc.).

We enjoyed and preferred bush exercises to life at the barracks because we did not have to iron our uniforms and PT pants and were also not required to observe

cleanliness and did not do any fatigue. Fatigue at the TG meant cleaning and polishing of one’s own kits and cleaning of the lion’s den itself.

2. Disciplinary Actions

Generally, the army is built on discipline, so it can only be fair to mention a few disciplinary actions I personally encountered while under training.

Almost every teen was punished for a reason, but mine is worth mentioning.

We were told by the instructors as well as our seniors that a soldier who never faced a disciplinary committee was indeed no soldier, and a soldier who could not take a risk was a fake.

One day, while on guard duties, three of us (Morgan Agbedefu, Charles Abdulai, and Mewuley Diabbah) decided to make off with bread from the cook house.

Mewuley later became the Teens Sergeant Major of our platoon during our final year.

We succeeded all right in making off with the bread, but Agbedefu made a mistake when one loaf of his bread fell inside the cook house close to the window, and he did not go for it.

The next morning, the chief cook, Corporal Agbebiade, saw the bread that fell

and instantly raised an alarm.

And had it not been for the bread that fell, cook Agbebiade would not have detected the theft.

After all, we were not the first and would not be the last.

So it happened that they assembled those of us who were on guard duties the previous night and threatened us with dismissal if we did not speak the truth or confess to making off with the bread.

We owned up and brought out the remainder of the loaves of bread that were in our possession.

Loaves of bread were always made off with, kept in pouches, and eaten during whole day field exercises.

We faced the disciplinary committee; we were tried and given a series of punishments—one week jail with hard labour, twenty-four lashes each on the back, and a shield hanging in front of our chest and back with the following words:

‘I stole bread, and I was caught.’

We carried the shields for one month and wore them wherever we went within

the barracks.

13. The Rice Water Incident

One day, a few months before the first ing-out parade, all of us assembled for breakfast and were served with rice water.

As usual, all of us (recruits) had received our rice water and were almost ready to go ahead and start eating.

The Teen NCOs tasted it and found it tasteless, so they decided that until a little more sugar was added to the rice water, they would not allow us to drink it.

As if they were joking, the cook refused to add the sugar, and the Teen NCOs marched us away without the breakfast.

The incident was reported to the units company Sergeant Major, who also ed it on to the company Adjutant (my platoon commander, Capt. Frank Ensrowuo), and then it finally got to Major Enusonu (the Officer in Command, TG).

The whole company was assembled that day, and those who commanded us not to eat the breakfast were first asked to step forward by Capt. Frank Ensrowuo.

He then asked all those who agreed with or ed their action to step

forward.

All in all, seven final-year students stepped forward. He asked the provost corporal to march them to the company headquarters.

We thought they were going to be punished. Little did we know that Capt. Frank Ensrowuo and Major Enusonu were actually going to dismiss them outright.

They checked their kits, handed them over to the quarter master the same day, wore their plain clothes, and were escorted in a military Pinz-gauer out of the barracks.

Seven fine final-year soldiers were charged, tried, found guilty, sacked the same day, and removed from the barracks.

The incident attracted the press, which published it in both the Western African Republican Times and Daily Burgle newspapers.

The seven soldiers were:

1. Ransford Artillery 2. Dan Blockers 3. Gerald Oluwade 4. Koffih Djedu

5. Kibus LaDantey 6. Laud Ibrahim 7. Charles Emiaddo

Kibus LaDantey was sacked for ing the action.

14. The First ing-Out Parade

In the fall of 1980, all was set for the final-year students to graduate and leave the lion’s den into the Western African Republic Armed Forces.

A graduation parade or a ing-out parade, as it was known and called, was a big event at the Teenagers Group.

We started preparations for this big event, I guess, three months before the actual day.

We received brand new kits (ammunition boots, puttees, sash, lanyards, black berets, olive green tros, vests, and shirts, etc.) for this purpose.

We started working on these kits. The objective was to have them ‘shining’ on the graduation day.

Week after week, they were inspected for progress, and we were punished when they did not meet the required standard. At the Teens Lines, good was always not good enough.

There was then drill rehearsals that increased in intensity as the graduation day got nearer.

It was traditional that on that day, the best teen in drills would be selected from the first year students. As a matter of fact, the best teen in drills was the only selection that was made from amongst the first year students.

When that was done the successful candidate was promoted to the rank of a Teen Lance Corporal.

Staff Sergeant Dollar of the education wing nominated me for that appointment, but I guess I did not attract enough sympathy and attention from my peers.

The title was finally given to Robert Ontario, who competed with me for weeks. He was really good; he was my friend, and I was happy he won.

One thing that I took notice of while I was at the TG was that Egeh and/or EgehGhlah persons were not attractive enough for promotions but for ridicules!

Three of us, Robert Ontario, Attaku, and I, were also selected as ‘Stick Teens’. Stick Teens were always two, but three of us were selected and trained for that purpose. One was always a back-up.

Stick Teens were smart and best in drills and must be of the same height. They must also be always neat. In addition to being recognized as a Stick Teen, I was the only one who was selected as an ‘oath teen’.

An oath teen was one who stood in front of the Army Chaplain and lifted up the ‘oath of allegiance’, which was usually written on a white board, for the chaplain to read at parades, more especially like the one we were preparing ourselves for.

Those required by the Armed Forces Act to make the oath repeated it after the chaplain.

Time was up and our seniors ed-out in a colourful parade. I had never seen such before. I was so glad and very happy to have not only witnessed it but also to have actively participated in it.

As the seniors left us, our intermediates moved into their rooms on the first block, and we became intermediates.

At that time, Prof Olu Tukunya was President of Western African Republic. We were told that he was not keen on giving consent to recruitment of new people into the TG.

Some suggested that he was afraid of another 4 January 1980 repeating itself.

To me, that was utter nonsense because the presence of ex-Teens was very

massive in the army then, so it was not going to be new recruits who would come to overthrow his government, and I personally do not and cannot imagine that Prof Tukunya entertained such fears during his reign.

I believe there must have been other serious reasons, if not the national defence budget.

Nobody came to us, so only two intakes or platoons remained at the Teens Lines.

15. 31 December 1982

Our second year went smoothly, and the torture reduced drastically. Some of us became pretty bold to face some of our newly trained seniors. With friends and networking, the Lines had become a little lively.

Some of us had become bold enough not to respond to calls of some of our seniors, and some of them could not come to our blocks alone. This was because they would come to meet resistance from our strong mates like Atamas Braimah a.k.a. Necodemus Baron Saladdah, Oladiponu Edwards, and others.

I took the name of the Libyan Leader ‘Qaddafi’ as my nickname, and it was accepted by all, including the instructors.

Shortly before Christmas 1982, I guess, on the twenty-third of December, a series of arrests was made while we were on leave in Koditaar.

My Koditaar mates, who were based at the Mabibu Barracks, informed me of the arrests of Bernard Samuna and others for their involvement in a plot to topple Prof Tukunya’s government.

News like this one could always spread like bush fire with some suggesting hosts of theories about what they were up to and what they were not up to.

This news brought anxiety to everyone as we ed the 4 June uprising that shook the whole nation in the recent past.

A few days later, the 31 December coup d’état was staged by Captain (Rtd) W. K. Avuh and some of our seniors, including the late Corporal Castro Umaru Omar who was stationed at the Parachute Regiment in Malebu and who was on a course in Nkran at the time.

The others included Corporal Mark Afutsevi, Corporal Samuel Dansari, Corporal Saul Latifu, and Corporal Shaibu Yandor .

I am not the right person to discuss or talk about that coup d’état because I was not involved. I can, therefore, highlight here some events that I personally witnessed.

Since ex-Teens spearheaded the coup, most ex-Teens, together with those of us under training, ed the event and assisted or helped in diverse ways and at different times and locations across the country.

Amongst those of us under training, it was the late Naberu Poloni who boldly and publicly demonstrated courage and fearlessness in his for the coup.

That is not to suggest that he was the only one who ed the coup.

I a day during the days of the coup that Naberu got so peeved up that shortly after dinner, he started firing live ammunition into the air as warning shots. That was when matters came into his head.

His attitude generated a lot of discussions at the Lines with some suggesting that it was because he could not keep secrets to himself and/or it was because the nature of the secrets were too heavy on his mind and heart that it pushed him into uncontrollable misbehaviour and exposure.

The coup affected training at the Lines. For some weeks, there was no training. Some officers, for fear of losing their lives, had turned into thin air and did not show up for training sessions.

16. Prophet Dohan (‘Ninalore’ Dohan)

One Sunday in 1983, news broke out at the barracks that some church people had killed an army doctor (a major) in the armed forces.

The doctor was on duty and had asked the church, headed by Ninalore or

Prophet Dohan, to assist in cleaning their dirty frontage as part of a cleaning exercise in of the revolution.

Whatever transpired or did not, it did not go down well with soldiers to hear that a peaceful soldier had been killed, not by anyone else but by a church— Christians.

Cleanliness is next to godliness, so what church was it that could beat an army officer to death for simply asking that church to tidy up its own frontage?

I personally saw soldiers at work that day. As a matter of fact, the whole of Badamashi was turned into what looked like a war zone.

To the best of my knowledge, teens did not participate in that action, simply because the officer was not from the TG.

In no time, the prophet was arrested and brought to the operations room at the Kattara Barracks.

We ran to catch a glimpse of him. I saw him in his underwear only and felt deeply sorry for him. I knew he was in for bad business.

I was there when an officer asked his captors to take him away, and in less than an hour, message came to the barracks that he was dead.

17. ing-Out Parade Number Two

It was spring 1983 and time for the final-year platoon to graduate.

This one was not as fascinating as the first one for several reasons.

Perhaps, it was because I had seen one before, participated in one, experienced one, or perhaps these seniors were not extraordinary in my eyes.

One thing that undoubtedly contributed to my not enjoying it as I did with the first one was the coup.

That coup took most part of the rehearsals, as teens did not have time and motivation to rehearse.

Though the parade was successful, the whole event took place in haste with minimum or little importance and emphasis attached to it.

The instructors also appeared and sounded as though they were not motivated. They wanted to see the graduation behind them, and it came to .

This time around, Robert Ontario and I acted as Stick Teens, and I acted as oath teen at the same time.

I enjoyed the work of a stick and oath teen, as it did not require us to carry rifles for the drills on the sun. This could be very challenging and tiring.

18. My Final Year at the TG

The final-year platoon ed out and left the Teens Lines, and ours was the only one left.

We were the last intake, and it was increasingly becoming obvious that the new regime (the NCDP regime) also had no intention of letting in new recruits.

We sat under the mango trees at the last block and discussed and argued over so many issues.

We discussed the coup and the role teens and ex-Teens played in it. We also questioned the reasons for the delay in letting in new recruits by a regime that was brought to power by teens and was maintained mainly by teens.

On weekends, we received high profile visits from the NCDP headquarters. Some of them were Castro Umaru Omar, Mark Afutsevi, Jacob Miamudu, Mahama Adamu, Naberu Poloni, and many others.

On certain occasions, the visits included Sergeant Lionel Tonyali Nando-Alani, Christian Dauda Mati, David Bodzi Nyemah, Chairman Willie Kwavih Avuh, and Major Manuel Gameli.

The day the chairman visited, he held a durbar with Fourth Battalion of infantry in which all of us participated. After the durbar, they visited us at the Lines.

For us, it was no doubt a question of honour and recognition, and in exchange, we pledged our 100 per cent to the ‘revolution’.

This was so because we felt secured since teens were at the helm of affairs, so the pledge was valid as long as teens were involved in whatever was going on in the system!

Training went on according to plan.

Major Enusonu almost lost his sight when he arrived from a UNIFIL operation in Lebanon.

News broke out that a Lance Corporal and others had picked him up from the airport and had subjected him to brutal torture for his role in dismissing the seven senior teens who were involved in the rice water incident.

He did not return to the TG. As a result, Major London Trevoson was appointed to replace him.

Capt. Frank Ensrowuo remained and trained us to the end.

Some of the seven teens who were dismissed in the rice water incident were reinstated into the armed forces and were brought to the Lines to us to complete their training.

Those who returned were:

1. Ransford Artillery, 2. Dan Blockers, 3. Koffih Djedu, and 4. Gerald Oluwade.

The last block became a VIP block. The block became very important because it was reserved for the NCDP team. It was on that block that I saw weapons like AK 47, Uzi, special pistols, etc.

I developed a special relationship with Ransford Artillery and his mates. Since my friend and mate Geraldo Badjanu was related to Castro Umaru Omar, I had direct access to the NCDP team. I was trusted.

We enjoyed their conversations whenever they came around because I heard a lot about what was going on in Nkran.

From their conversations, I got to know about the killing of the three high court judges and a retired military officer, and I also got to know about those who were involved.

One fine sunny afternoon in October 1983, news broke out that Sgt Lionel Tonyali Nando-Alani, Mark Afutsevi, Castro Umaru Omar, and several ex-Teens had been arrested for mutiny. Majority, if not all of them, were of northern ethnic origin.

Before then, months earlier, there were series of arrests of officers and men including ex-Teens for attempts and/or plots to topple the regime.

These events and/or developments did not bring peace to us.

Weeks later, after the arrests of Sgt Nando-Alani et al., it became obvious that Teens no longer enjoyed safety, but Nyunas did.

Nyunas comes from the Fonu language (of the Fonu tribe in the Yany Region of Western African Republic), and it means ‘my brother’.

Ex-Teens did not have power and influence any longer, but the Nyuna or a group of Fonus did.

Tribalism came to replace ‘ex-Teenism’ in the armed forces. This was to be resisted by ex-Teens of not only Northern ethnic extraction but also of Fonu and other ethnic origins as the forces involved in later coup attempts show.

Our morale and confidence were affected, and some wondered whether it was all right to choose a unit in Nkran after graduation.

18.1 ing-Out Parade Number Three

When ours was due and we ed out, I chose:

1. Recce Regiment, Nkran, as my first choice, 2. Airborne Force (ABF), Malebu, as my second choice, and the 3. First Infantry Battalion, Boleman, as my third and last choice.

We had high profile guests participating in our graduation parade. We had the then army commander Brigadier Ohiameh Atih and WO1 Evans Obimodja attending the parade as guests.

But while in our festive mood on the day of graduation, seven of us were invited to an important meeting.

The seven were:

1. Francis Iliasu Ibrahim, 2. Bruce Wilberforce, 3. Xande Andeh, 4. Adonis Pamha,

5. Barish Okata Sompembo, 6. Kenneth Shagarimu, and 7. Jacob Swedor.

We were marched to the company headquarters to meet Capt. Frank Ensrowuo, Capt Moris Okampo, and Sergeant Tinfinsi.

They told us that we had been selected for postings to the Base Ordinance Depot (BOD) in Nkran.

Initially, our reaction was negative. We rejected the postings and maintained that we wanted to be posted to the units we had chosen.

We did not want to be posted to BOD because it was a trades unit that was primarily involved in logistics and storekeeping, and this was so because in all our three years at the Teens Lines, we were only trained for the infantries and the regiments.

This whole issue of declining our requests to be posted to the units of our choice was considered as rebellious, so we sort of entertained some fears and ed how seven of our seniors were dismissed in the earlier stages of our presence at the Lines.

After all said and done, we surrendered to their pressure and agreed to move to BOD.

We graduated on 15 December 1983.

4 Military Activities in Nkran

1. The Journey to Nkran

That day, I drove with Lieutenant Doctor Wilberforce to Nkran, to my father’s house at Malaambia, a suburb of Nkran.

Dr Wilberforce was a medical officer stationed at the Medical Reception Station (MRS) in Badamashi. She was on her way to Nkran.

Incidentally, she was a Namba just like me and was also from Malaambia.

It is believed that Wilberforces come from one home, so I had no doubt that we were related.

I had visited Malaambia on certain occasions with my dad when I was young, but they were not enough for me to give directions to anyone who wanted to take me home.

I it took us close to thirty minutes looking for my dad’s house at Malaambia when we got there.

My dad had resigned from the police force at the time of my graduation, so he had relocated to his Malaambia residence.

It was his fame that helped us locate his house. There are a lot of Wilberforces at Malaambia, and most of them were either in the police or in the armed forces, so we asked people to show us the house of the police officer, and finally, we found the house.

Dr Wilberforce was in uniform, so she got down and paid compliments to my dad, when she saw him come.

We engaged in a brief conversation before she left.

It even turned out that my dad knew her dad.

2. Base Ordinance Depot (BOD)

On the twentieth of December, my dad drove me to the BOD headquarters at Downing, and this was because I did not know where it actually was.

It was my first time in Nkran as an adult, and I did not know anywhere. Downing is a suburb in Nkran.

We drove through the Kantawe Osagidimajor and Dennis Samonu Circles to the Special Military Hospital and then continued towards Ceylon Camp, and about four hundred metres before the Military Police Headquarters, we made a right turn into the BOD premises.

We were greeted at the main entrance by the guard on duty who instructed a Lance Corporal to escort the two of us to the unit Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM), whose rank was Warrant Officer Class I (WOI).

After a brief introduction and reception, my dad left, and the unit RSM marched me to the ‘Orderly Room’ and introduced me to the Chief Clerk who also happened to be an ex-Teen, Staff Sergeant Johnson Danskunor, and his assistant, Sergeant Matthew Kumali, and then finally to the unit Adjutant, Captain Toyin.

I was in the Orderly Room when the rest of my mates came in. We did some g of documents and went through istrative formalities as required.

At that time, our files had not arrived from the Teenagers Group, but that was not a problem.

The Unit RSM introduced us to all the departments of BOD and finally marched us to the Quarter Master.

The Quarter Master was the one in charge of all the military kits, and he was the one who issued them to the soldiers.

He issued us with brand new olive green uniforms, boots, cups, belts, and berets. He drove us to the Georgian flats at the Walke Barracks and gave us keys to our individual apartments.

Three of us (Kenneth Shagarimu, Adonis Pamha, and me) were allocated rooms on the C-Block.

I signed for room four, and my immediate neighbour was Staff Sergeant Nudah, with whom I also shared the same bathhouse.

We settled in the barracks, and in no time, we made friends as well as enemies.

Some soldiers did not like our presence for obvious reasons of competition and insecurity. Some of the civilians and/or barracks teens also did not like us as such, simply because our presence in the barracks was a threat to their relationship with their girlfriends. We were young soldiers; we were earning our own salaries and were on our own.

I was not actually concerned with those issues. On the contrary, I was pretty much concerned with integration and career success.

Soldiers and civilians advised me to be careful with my neighbour—WOI Forino’s wife, Tifi, as she was popularly called.

They said she was a husband beater, and that in some instances, she was seen publicly beating soldiers.

Although the allegations against her were widespread, I could not confirm any of them. Instead, I found in her a loving and a caring mother.

Tifi also saw in me a son, and I enjoyed a harmonious relationship with her, her husband, and their beautiful children.

Several years later, Tifi played an important role in my life.

Xande Andeh did not like the unit, so in no time, he managed to arrange a transfer with the Records Office and left for the Second Battalion of Infantry in Koditaar.

I was selected from amongst my mates to work as a clerk in the Orderly Room with Matthew Kumali and Staff Danskunor.

Again, that came as a blow to me because it required that I would always work in the office, so I was considering the idea of rejecting the idea of working in the office.

I do not think my rejection of these offers had something to do with laziness or childishness, no. On the contrary, I guess it was mere ignorance.

The feeling of not being at the right place, which was the reason for the rejection of those offers or transfers, stemmed from a three-year training that was completely void of any clerical activity or preparation.

Since we were in the aftermath of a coup era, there were important places in Nkran—the office and residence of the president—the Kplema Arranir Castle, the Western African Republic Broadcasting Corporation (WARBC), etc. that required the presence of the military.

So apart from our daily and/or routine work at our mother units, we were also assigned to guard duties at the above mentioned places.

Just as it was at the TG, we woke up sometimes and ed a compulsory jogging or road running and then reported to the BOD HQ at 7.30 hours for a muster parade.

After the muster parade, we proceeded to our various departments and worked till the part one orders had been published by the chief clerk.

The part one orders were like daily news that must be read by soldiers before they were allowed to close for the day.

It was my office that published these orders, and it came out latest by 13.30 hours.

Amongst others, the part one order informed the soldiers about their planned and/or scheduled duties (duty time table), promotions, transfers, and travels. In fact, it was generally about activities within the unit.

When the orders were out, we read them and depending on what the order said, we closed for the day.

At the Orderly Room, Matthew Kumali started training me on how to use the typewriter. It was boring, I must say, but I had no choice, so I had to stick to it.

Somewhere down the road, I was asked to go on a clerical course as a Storeman Clerk Technician Grade One.

I ed with distinction.

3. My First Love

One day, I was on my way to the BOD HQ driving in a Pinz-gauer from the Ministry of Defence with Private Malik Suliadu when we decided to stop in front of the Walke Stadium.

I stopped the car because I was looking for a girlfriend, and I had spotted some beautiful secondary school girls in front of the stadium.

There were a lot of beautiful barracks girls at Walke, but none of them was my real taste. I knew I wanted something special. I wanted a ‘learning’ girlfriend. I could find the same from the barracks, but I thought the barracks girls had no positive image.

Those days, some soldiers had the upper hand in most things including finding girlfriends. Girls wanted financial protection and .

We got down from the car and walked towards the girls. They had come there for official sports, so they were in their school uniforms.

It was the three girls by the wayside that I wanted to talk with, and amongst the three, one of them attracted me the most.

She gave me her name as Agnes Kwale of Kplema Presbyterian Secondary School, 4S, meaning a form four science student.

The other girls did not interest me, so I did not keep their names, and though Malik Suliadu engaged one of them in a conversation, I did not know how and where they ended it up.

Manye Amorkor was a student at the Agokoli Secondary School when we became friends.

Xande Andeh and I visited her at her home at Kplema regularly, and she also visited us at the Walke Barracks too.

One day when I visited her, I saw some girls in the same uniform that Agnes was wearing when we met her, and instantly, I ed that I had come into with a 4S student from her neighbourhood.

Kplema Presby School was about five hundred metres away from her home, so I explained and described Agnes to her and asked her to help me find her.

Fortunately, Amorkor knew a few girls from that school, so we walked to them, one after the other.

The second girl we got to was one of the three girls we spoke with that day. She spoke in Egeh and explained that it was Sally I was looking for. She said Agnes Kwale was a fake name.

Amorkor explained that she knew her, but there was a family feud between her home and theirs, so she would not be able to help me any longer.

But I insisted and pleaded with her to just do it for me. She agreed and took me to her house.

She certainly was not Agnes Kwale but Sarah Nikoi, a twin, my wife-to-be.

She was surprised to see the two of us. Amorkor introduced me as her relative and pinched me from behind, asking me to take over the conversation.

The success of my relationship was in part because of Amorkor. Sarah was shy and was always afraid of so many things. Most importantly, she was afraid of her own late mother, who was notorious for public and open air violence, etc.

Whenever Amorkor was visiting us, whether in the Castle or in the barracks, she came with her. The quarrel between the two homes was being repaired, and gradually, harmony returned to them.

There were three separate incidents that occurred between my mother-in-law-tobe and me.

One day, I happened to be on off duty from the Castle, so I decided to go to the Walke barracks to rest and also to touch base with my mates and friends.

Sarah was already there when I arrived, and she explained that she did not want to go home because she was afraid of her mom.

Her fears and reasons for refusing to go home did not go down well with me, so I decided to encourage her to change her mind.

I managed to convince her, and she agreed to come with me to her mom at Kplema.

At a distance of about 150 metres, we saw her late mom, Aunty Gladys, sitting in front of their house, and when she saw us, she got up and started hurrying towards us.

Sarah knew what was going to happen, so she quickly advised me to run away, but I found her suggestion to be childish. How could she expect me, an armed soldier, to run away from a civilian, a weak woman?

Sarah disappeared, and I was right in front of Aunty Gladys, as she’s popularly known and called.

That day, I was in uniform, and I had a fully loaded pistol at my waist.

The late Aunty Gladys came directly to me, and without any provocation, she slapped me on my face and started pulling down my shirt as though she wanted to strip me.

People had started gathering at the scene, so knowing how dangerous the situation could become, I decided to allow her to tear the shirt if that was what she was up to but held the pistol with both hands while keeping it in its holster and still at my waist.

I did so because I was avoiding a situation where the pistol could fall or come out of its holster. Again, it was a fully loaded pistol.

But as soon as I held the pistol, the late Aunty Gladys started screaming in Egeh saying, ‘Ela wum, ele de ebe tu’, to wit, ‘He’ll kill me, and he’s removing his gun!’

Suddenly, Sarah’s junior sister (Edith) appeared at the scene and started defending me to the crowd against her mom.

The crowd was quite large, and it attracted a ing-by Pinz-gauer from the

Castle that came and rescued me.

The second incident occurred at the Walke barracks.

One fine Saturday morning, Aunty Gladys arrived at the barracks with her friend. I saw her from a distance and knew what was going to happen, so without delay, I rushed Sarah through the bathhouse into Staff Sgt Nudah’s place. I could walk through a door into his kitchen through his bathhouse without coming out of the house. This was unknown to Aunty Gladys.

So after getting Sarah out of my apartment, I opened for the two women and ushered them into my living room.

Aunty Gladys rejected water and refused to sit down. She said they had come to take her daughter away, so I explained that I had not seen Sarah in a while.

She decided, therefore, to search the whole apartment, and I gave her my consent to go ahead with the search.

The two of them searched everywhere, and when they were convinced that indeed Sarah was not in the house, they left.

But before they left, Aunty Gladys threatened that she would definitely cause my dismissal from the army.

About three weeks after her visit to the barracks, she carried out her threat and lodged a complaint with Capt Priddy, a military police officer who had married one of Sarah’s stepsisters.

By that complaint, Aunty Gladys was certain that I was going to be fired from the army.

One day, Capt Priddy sent for me, so Adonis Pamha and Xande Andeh decided to me to the military police headquarters.

The three of us were armed and were looking ruthless in our appearance.

But to our surprise, the officer was quite friendly and rather welcoming. He explained that there was no cause for any anger and that he had sent for me because he wanted to know me.

So the story ended there. We shook hands and left.

4. Kplema Arranir Castle, Nkran

In the first week of January 1983, Jacob Swedor and I were deployed to the office and residence of the chairman of the New Commission Dictating Pace (NCDP), Flt Lt Willie Kwavih Avuh, at the Kplema Arranir Castle to protect him and also to guard his residence.

Going on a field or outside-the-barracks duties was always a good thing but not when it was about going to the residence of the head of state.

This was more so given the fact that non-Fonu speaking ex-Teens were permanently on the radars of the security forces.

Sometimes, they arrested and detained persons for reasons such as hate, fear, envy, and also on the basis of rumours.

5. 27 February 1984 Resistance—My Involvement

A few days after the transfer to the Castle, I came into with Niminado Dualah, Godfrey Dantey, William Grafus, and Danogoli Dangote at the Military Police Headquarters at their base. These were of different Southern (including Fonu) ethnic extractions.

That day, we had a healthy conversation in which we discussed and reflected on, inter alia, our collective versus individual experiences at the Teenagers Group.

Some days later, on my way from the Castle to the Walke Barracks, I was standing at the Castle main traffic light when a Toyota Bluebird car pulled over from the stadium road and Douglas Attonuh got down from it and invited me into the car for a lift to Walke.

Douglas was a Lance Corporal at the time. After ing out, he was posted to the Air Borne Force but was on attachment to the NCDP at that time.

At some point in time, he was a bodyguard to Capt (Rtd) Koffih Mawudi Panu, the then National Security Adviser to the unconstitutional head of state.

In the car, I saw Niminado Dualah, Darlington Hillano, and Godfrey Dantey, who was the driver of the car.

I am not sure whether our meeting at the traffic light was just a coincidence, but, well, from what the journey to Walke turned out to be, it appears it was not one.

By the time the gentlemen had dropped me off at the barracks, it had become too obvious that I was in for a movement of resistance to restore the constitutional government.

From the very day that news broke out about the arrest and detention of Omar and others till that material moment, when my seniors recruited me into the resistance against the usurper NCDP regime, most ex-Teens lived in permanent state of uncertainty.

And that state of uncertainty was not going to change.

Generally, this anxiety was fuelled by the observation that every non-Fonu speaking ex-Teen in the Western African Republic Armed Forces was a suspect and was on the radar of the security forces. Specifically, some Fonus were also held in suspicion.

You only had to disagree with your neighbour and the next moment you found yourself in detention without a charge or trial. That was the order of the day. That was what I saw in Western African Republic between October 1983 and February 1986.

To me and the others, the only way forward was to restore the illegally overthrown government before the usurpers came for us or killed us. After all, that was what they were up to.

Capt W. K. Avuh overthrew a constitutionally elected government and imposed himself as a military dictator on the good people of Western African Republic against their will.

Article 1 Clause 3 of the Constitution of Western African Republic 1979 stated that

All citizens of Western African Republic shall have the right to resist any person or persons seeking to abolish the constitutional order as established by this Constitution should no other remedy be possible.

As it stood, therefore, I was a trained soldier resisting and/or fighting within the limits of my constitutional right as a citizen of Western African Republic against usurpation of authority.

Resistance against a military dictator is risky and dangerous because if you fail, capital punishment can be the only consequence. I was aware, but I was ready to be part of the deal.

The resistance had already advanced in preparation on the quiet before I was brought into it.

First, I needed to keep it as a secret to myself, And as the days ed by, I would be given further instructions.

We met on several occasions.

We met on two occasions at the Castle, where we discussed how we would execute the operation on the ‘D’ day.

We also met at the WARBC Clubhouse, at Walke Barracks, and at the military police headquarters.

On a separate development, I came into with my platoon mate, Charles Abdulai of Second Infantry Battalion, who was also involved in the resistance and who was stationed at the Western African Republic Broadcasting Corporation together with our mate L/l Morgan Agbedefu of First Infantry Battalion.

He visited me at the Walke Barracks. The day we met, we encouraged ourselves to be bold and to act with courage and precision on the day itself.

We understood that our job was not necessarily to kill anybody but to engage them with massive fire-power during the outbreak of the resistance so as to scare

them—to keep them running away.

We were sure that we were doing the right thing.

That day, he explained that he was going to disarm all the heavy guns at the broadcasting house just to make sure that no one could use them to obstruct the operation.

That day, he hinted me that he had recruited Agbedefu into the group. Upon hearing him say those things, instantly, I felt a certain degree of uneasiness and discomfort in my whole body.

That uneasiness came in the form of a wind, bathing me from the scalp of my head down to the soles of my feet.

Was it not this same Morgan Agbedefu who caused our arrest at the TG when we went in for the bread? I questioned him.

But Abdulai argued that we had all grown as matured adults, so there was no need for us to act like teenagers any longer, and again, he brushed the ‘Mybro’ issue aside suggesting that Agbedefu, an ex-Teen, would either do it or remain quiet.

I was not in high spirits when Abdulai left.

By middle of February, all was almost set, and I knew those with whom I would be operating at the castle upon the outbreak of hostilities on the ‘D’ day.

I met with the military police guys again, and this time around, the final action plan for 27 February was discussed briefly.

Niminado Dualah, Douglas Attonuh, and William Grafus, according to the plan, would arrive with Lt Col Benjamin Locado in a Land Rover at the castle main entrance at 1600 hours.

So my first task was to ensure that the main entrance was safe and under my control.

To do this, I had already recruited L/l Jacob Swedor (my TG platoon mate), just as Abdulai did with Agbedefu, and he was going to be at the main entrance with me that day while we awaited the arrival of the group.

Once the group had successfully entered the castle, our job would be to prevent Avuh’s helicopter from taking off and at the same time providing massive fire for two of them to rush into his premises and arrest him.

The group needed to be sure of his presence in the castle that day, so it was my job to keep them updated of his daily movements in the castle.

As the days ed by and the ‘D’ day approached, I assembled all of my BOD mates in my room and informed them of our plans and intentions and asked them

to help in whatever way they could.

They all agreed to help and gave me their blessings and promised their unflinching .

5.1 The ‘D’ Day

As usual, it was a bright sunny day at the Castle, but for some reason, the place had become too quiet for my liking.

We were commanded by Capt Koffih Mawudi Panu to remain at ‘stand to’— meaning, to remain at high alert and be prepared for action. The opposite of ‘stand to’ was ‘stand down’.

Jacob Swedor had heard some rumours that something was about to happen, so he worriedly came to ask whether all was well. I asked him to remain calm and wait till the set time.

At about 1400 hours, news broke out at the Castle about the arrests of so many people at the residence of Dr Samuel Lando at Achimota (a suburb of Nkran), at the WARBC, and at various locations. They included:

1. l Godfrey Dantey, 2. l William Grafus, 3. L/l Douglas Attonuh,

4. Pte Ransford Artillery, 5. Pte Theo Adeago, 6. L/l Charles Abdulai, 7. l Babito Adams, and 8. l Murtala.

In addition, Major Bella Nasiru, Lt Col Benjamin Locado and Dr Samuel Lando had also been officially declared wanted.

We heard that Ransford Artillery and Douglas Attonuh attempted to escape when they were moved to the Air Force Station in Nkran, so they were shot at and had been sent to the Special Military Hospital for treatment.

There was no mention of Niminado Dualah, so I was disturbed and wondered what might or might not have happened to him!

As hours ed by, it had become too obvious that the resistance had been foiled, and by the close of the day, some of those arrested had already been brought to the Castle guardroom.

5.2 The Aftermath of 27 February 1984

Rumours about who was involved versus what was going to happen and who was going to be who had started spreading wild like bush fire.

L/l Kpoglo, my neighbour at the Castle, was in charge of the Yellow Cascavan. The Cascavan was an anti-aircraft tank that was stationed at the Castle. Kpoglo had seen me together with Niminado Dualah, Godfrey Dantey, and Douglas Attonuh at the Castle on certain occasions.

He came to me one fine morning in the early days of March and suggested that if I knew something about the foiled commencement of the resistance I should confide in him and let him know, and he would do everything to make sure I remained safe.

He explained that he had seen me together, on some occasions inside the Castle, with some of whom he called the ‘coup plotters’.

The next day, I was invited to meet the aide de camp of Avuh and WO1 Adadedom to explain my relationship with Dantey, Attonuh, and Dualah and also to give detailed explanation as to what exactly they had come to look for at the Castle when they came to me.

I explained that I did not have any clue about their true intentions, but they said they were only visiting me.

And as to why they did not visit me at the barracks but at the Castle and why I did not report their visits to him, I explained that I thought they were also working for the NCDP, and, again, I did not know that there was something funny or suspicious about them.

The next day BOD withdrew the two of us (Jocob and me) from the Castle and deployed me to the Western African Republic Broadcasting Corporation Gate 4 together with my TG mate, L/l Adonis Pamha and others for guard duties.

At that age and time boldness, braveness, and courage were my personal attributes. Fear was foreign to me.

Perhaps, it was all because I had not fully understood the implications of being under suspicion of attempting to overthrow an illegally enthroned military dictator.

I was granted two days off duty before reporting for work at the WARBC Gate 4.

While on off duty, I visited Ransford Artillery and Douglas Attonuh at the Special Military Hospital.

They had had some surgeries on their legs, and there were some metal bars penetrating their legs as their legs sustained them in the air. I must it that it was my first time of seeing such a thing. It did not look nice at all.

We were all very happy to see each other again, but they suggested that I should go back before the NCDP guys came to see me around, so after a few minutes I left them. The meeting was very emotional.

5.3 My Unlawful Arrest and Detention

From the hospital, I drove to my dad at Malaambia to visit him. I explained all that I was going through to him and gave him the assurance that I would be fine.

As a royal of the Anamaba Palace and moved by the things he had heard about me, he quickly sent for a gentleman known and called by his nickname ‘Gblashor’.

Gblashor arrived with some concoctions (including gun powder) and prepared a talisman for me.

He explained that he had given me powers to vanish and/or to disappear when in danger. All I had to do when in need was to find something (a tree or a wall) to lean on and rest my attention or mental focus on where I would want to vanish to.

I went there with a certain L/l Addi (known and called Seyylorr) from BOD, so he did it for the two of us.

On 5 March 1984, L/l Henry Additor (my TG mate who was with the Recce Regiment) came to visit me at the broadcasting house.

According to him, he had come to advise me to leave the country for my own safety.

He explained that he was on duty at the NCDP headquarters at Florida Barracks when Ransford Artillery’s girlfriend (Victoria) came to report to Lt Diabor and

the late Major Manuel Gameli that she was aware of my involvement in the attempted commencement of hostilities.

I personally did not know Victoria and had never seen her with my naked eyes before, but it sounded as though Ransford had told her of my involvement. So for whatever reason she must have had at the time, she was bent on using it against me.

I gave thanks to Henry and explained that I would see what I could do about it. He left, and since then, I have not seen him again.

A year later, I read from our Armed Forces Part One Orders that he was shot and wounded while on a UNIFIL Operation in Lebanon.

Adonis Pamha saw us together and perceived that something funny or serious was going on.

I told him about the information I had received from Henry and gave him my p38 pistol to be given to my dad, in the event that something happened to me.

In the early morning hours of 8 March, my Unit RSM arrived and requested that I accompanied him to the BOD headquarters for a meeting with the Commanding Officer (Lt Col O M Baladimu).

Having a foresight of what was going to happen, Adonis Pamha quickly alerted the Gate Commander who also radioed the Operations Commander at the

WARBC, and in no time, the RSM was asked to explain what he actually wanted me for.

Whatever their discussions were, I did not know, but soon the RSM came to me with the Gate Commander and asked me to go with him.

They both asked me to leave my weapon (a G3 assault rifle) behind.

We walked through gate five to come out of the broadcasting house, and a few metres away from gate five, I saw a Toyota Camry car without a registration number.

On my right, I saw WO1 Evans Obimodja and his bodyguards, and on my left, I saw L/l Emmanuel Wanduguri and some two other NCDP boys.

They were heavily armed that day!

I was quickly whisked into the Toyota, and in a convoy, we drove to the BOD headquarters to meet Lt Col Baladimu.

At his office, he explained that he was releasing me to go and answer some questions the NCDP guys had for me and added that I would be free if I really had not been involved in the move against the NCDP and wished me good luck.

From the BOD Headquarters, my captors drove me to the NCDP headquarters at

the Florida Barracks within the Ceylon Camp.

It was Emmanuel Wanduguri and another dark-looking man who drove me to the NCDP HQ. WO1 Evans Obimodja and his bodyguards did not accompany us.

On our way to the NCDP HQ, Wanduguri asked me to explain why people called me Qaddafi. In response, I explained that it was just a nickname I chose while I was at the TG.

When we got there, they marched me to the office of Major Manuel Gameli.

Gameli asked me how I was doing and also whether I had something to confess about activities I knew of or was involved in that had been designed to ‘disturb’ the NCDP government.

I told him I was not aware of any such activities and had, therefore, no such thing to confess.

After my response, he looked straight into my eyes for a few minutes, and then he instructed my captors to take me out.

On our way out, they marched me to Second Lieutenant Diabor, a Recce Officer, who was, I guess, a secretary to Manuel Gameli.

They introduced me to him, and he put the following questions to me:

‘How much were you given?’

I responded, ‘By whom and for what, Sir?’

And then he angrily spoke on top of his voice, saying:

‘For you to come and kill us!’

I answered and said, ‘I do not know what you are talking about, Sir, and no one has given me any money.’

At that moment, he got up from his chair, walked towards me as if he was going to look for a document or something on a desk, then slapped me on my face to the left, and then he hit my head with the butt of his pistol.

The man was short and a bit skinny, so I was hurting to see such a man hit me and go free. As a matter of fact, under the prevailing circumstances, I could not have responded or beaten him up.

I was a suspect, so they had their own right to treat suspects the way they wanted!

He and my captors took me out and handed me over to a group of soldiers to be

tortured for about an hour or so, and by the time they were finished with the torturing, there was blood all over my body—my fingers had disfigured, my face swollen, and my head and back bleeding.

Under the scorching sun, I was made to carry heavy cement blocks, and they whipped me with rifle slings. They wanted me to speak the truth.

Diabor instructed Wanduguri to drive me to the Air Force Guardroom, but when we got there the officer on duty refused to take me in. I heard him saying, ‘There is no space. It is full!’

From there, Wanduguri and his colleague drove me to the Base Workshop Guardroom, also within the Ceylon Camp, and gave me up.

That was where I was kept incommunicado for the next six months.

I was too tired and very week when my captors finally found a resting place for me. I had not eaten the whole day and neither had they found it proper to give me water to drink.

A Sergeant Azatt, who was on duty that day, had sympathy on me and brought me a piece of tea-bread and a cup of water.

The size of the room was about seven square metres. There were about twelve inmates in that small room.

I met police Corporal Awudu Tijani in the guardroom.

l Awudu, as we called him, was the detective who investigated the killing of the high court judges with Mr Zeeba.

He had been locked up in the guardroom, according to him, because in his findings he implicated Capt Koffih Mawudi Panu in the killing of the judges.

l Awudu was my neighbour at the Babioshi Obidonu Junction when I was 7 years old. He had worked under my dad when the two were with the Unique Service.

After getting to know each other and tracing our links, we became friends. He introduced me to Islam and showed me how to pray as one, and the two of us maintained a lifelong friendship.

His wife, a police officer, a Fonu, was pregnant at the time. She was going through serious humiliations because she had married someone from the North and who had implicated a Fonu in the killing of the high court judges and a military officer.

I also met Sergeant Bernard Samuna in the guardroom, but he was released the next day. We had very little time to talk about ourselves.

I also met Corporal Onuson, also known as Airborne, in the guardroom. He was a brother to L/l Larry Otunu. Larry was my Intermediate at the TG. Both of

them were soldiers at the Field Engineers Regiment at Kpehdzi, a suburb of Nkran.

Apart from us the soldiers and l Awudu, who had been brought in for ‘subversion allegations’ etc., the remainder of the inmates were civilians who were in there for civil offences, etc.

By and by, all the inmates were either released or moved to other locations. Corporal Onuson was moved to a guardroom at the Field Engineers Regiment, and the civilians were taken away on separate occasions into freedom or into other cells in and out of Nkran.

l Awudu and I were the only inmates left in the guardroom.

What I did, when I was brought into the guardroom, was to tell the soldiers that I was a Fonu, maternally and that my mother was a Fonu from Hutumga. I could speak Fonu fluently. I wanted to save my life from torture or death one day, and it worked in several instances.

Amongst those who visited me while I was in custody was my mate Geraldo Badjanu and Justice Azoglidja.

The two of them were posted to the Second Recce Regiment in Sunyani but had come to work in Nkran at the time.

Badjanu’s visits were not only to check on my well-being but more importantly

to continue discussions on arrangements to ‘teach the regime a lesson’, that is, to reorganise the resistance to re-install the constitutionally elected government!

By the end of May, arrangements to ‘teach them a lesson’ were in their final stages, so we agreed that in order to reduce suspicion he should reduce his visits from once a week to at least once more before the ‘D’ day.

On 16 June, Badjanu visited me together with Justice Azoglidja and informed me that a final date for the renewal of hostilities had been fixed to be the early morning hours of 19 June.

He also explained that all were required to dress in jogging suits to enable easy identification.

Badjanu had been tasked to lead a group to release our brothers from the Abel Fort and Garridon Fort Prisons in Nkran.

According to him, Corporal Onuson, a.k.a. Airborne and our TG Intermediate Seniors, L/l Benny Gbadaglo, and Harrison Ekechuku had been assigned to release me and that the planning group had tasked us, thus, after my release, to drive to the medium security prisons at Kpabuma to release our brothers.

Corporal Onuson was with us in the guardroom at base workshop when he was moved per NCDP instructions to the Field Engineers Guardroom.

While he was with us, his brother Harrison Ekechuku and L/l Gbadaglo

visited us on several occasions.

On 17 June, my brother Lionel Wilberforce and my mate Kenneth Shagarimu visited me with Sarah and Manye Amorkor.

Without giving them all the details, I advised them to stop the visits with immediate effect, and I also advised them to stay indoors on 19 June. I asked them to inform the rest of my mates at BOD about what was going to happen.

I also asked Lionel to find me a jogging suit, but fortunately, he did not find any for me!

It was my understanding that the objective of the operation was first and foremost to organise a jailbreak for all our brothers and then if possible, depending on the response of the public and those in uniform, restore the constitutionally elected government.

It was also my understanding that Lt Col Benjamin Locado was going to arrive from Kroto as the head of the resistance in a convoy to command the operations.

6. 19 June 1984 Jailbreak

Awudu and I had prayed the whole night and were full of anxiety. Some Moslem spiritualists had explained to him that it was going to be really tough!

We had taken our breakfast and had set a small radio, belonging to the guards, to news and were waiting for the arrival of Onuson and others. At the same time, we were also waiting for an announcement on the air.

I am not sure of the exact time, but I guess it was between 0900 and 1000 hours when we first heard Castro Umaru Omar’s voice in a radio announcement asking Castle (Avuh’s residence) troops to surrender to revolutionary fighters or face bombardments.

We did not hear Lt Col Benjamin Locado’s voice, but it did not bother us at all. We were happy that the operation was on going.

At that stage, we wondered what the hell was keeping Onuson’s group from coming to release me.

In no time, soldiers started firing warning shots into the air to signify danger and trouble.

We sat together and agreed that we should hold our peace while we waited for things to unfold.

And then, in about an hour or so, we heard the voice of Major Manuel Gameli on air, announcing that he had foiled the coup!

He wanted anyone found or seen in jogging suits arrested for questioning.

Following Gameli’s announcement, NCDP loyalists got busy with looking for dissidents as well as jubilating and escaping individuals.

They succeeded in arresting many people. But luckily, only few of the true participants of the operation were arrested.

Majority of those who lost their lives were innocent, and they were indeed killed by the NCDP forces.

We got news that Corporal Onuson (a.k.a. Airborne), and his brother Harrison Ekechuku together with L/l Benny Gbadaglo had been killed.

We also heard that on 20 June, William Grafus and some others were killed by WO1 Evans Obimodja at the Border Guard Headquarters after they had surrendered themselves.

These two killings made it clear that Fonu participants or suspects within the resistance received no mercy and were instantly subjected to capital punishment.

WO1 Evans Obimodja and his cohort were on a killing spree. They drove to prisons and guardrooms and took out captives whom they killed at secret locations.

After killing William Grafus and others, WO1 Evans Obimodja drove with his team of human blood drinkers and flesh eaters to the Base Workshop Guardroom in the evening to get me out to be killed.

Clearly, I had never been involved in any of the active operations, and no adverse findings had been made against me. To this extent, I could not be accused and never formally accused of criminality although it is clear that, based on the National Constitution, I sympathized with the resistance to restore the illegally overthrown government of Prof Tukunya.

Capt Gameli had been informed about WO1 Evans Obimodja’s activities, so he had ed a decree banning the release of prisoners and/or captives without his approval.

It was about an hour after Gameli had ed the decree that the evil men arrived.

Hence, the guard commander called the operations room at the Florida Barracks (Recce Headquarters) and informed Capt Gameli directly about what WO1 Evans Obimodja had come to do.

Although the WO1 Evans Obimodja gang fired warning shots into the air and threatened the soldiers on guard the latter did not hand over the keys to them.

Luckily for me, then, the sergeant on duty refused to hand me over to the gang. Of course, nothing had been established against me.

The soldiers on duty informed us of what was going on outside. I personally did not see WO1 Evans Obimodja, but I heard his voice.

l Quandah-Hill and Sgt Portuphy were among the killers that came with WO1 Evans Obimodja that night.

The two of them came to the iron bars and informed l Awudu that he was safe. They then turned to me and suggested that I should pray!

After thirty minutes or so, we were told that the gang had obeyed Gameli’s instructions and had left.

The remainder of my days in the guardroom till the time that I was finally released and set free were days of threats, fears, anxiety, and, well, fun times as well.

7. Religion and Faith in the Guardroom

Islam: l Awudu and Sgt Alhassan of Base Workshop introduced me to Islam.

Sgt Alhassan was the soldier who conveyed the message of my detention at the Base Workshop Guardroom to my dad at Malaambia.

From them, I learned to pray five times a day with the Tasbear, and I also learned to recite some special prayers against the situation.

The two of them taught me a host of special prayers to be reciting at all times.

And I ionately did as recommended. Here are two of the special prayers:

Nr. 1

Nr. 2

1. Hasbunallahu wanikmal wa kil Meaning: ‘Allah (Alone) is sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs (for us).’

2. Ya latif Meaning: ‘Oh, God, you’re the most kind, be kind to us.’

Buddhism: One day, I was sick, so I was escorted at gun point by a certain Corporal to the medical reception station that was about two hundred metres west of the base workshop.

He too was a Buddhist, so he suggested that I recited the ‘Nam-myohorenge-kyo’.

‘Nichiren Daishonin regarded Nam-myoho-renge-kyo as the Mystic Law, the natural principle

Source: Soka Gakkai International

The phrase was simple, so I added it to my prayers and chanted it frequently.

Christianity: Christianity was not new to me because I was born and raised a Christian. What actually was perhaps missing in my Christian life was the true knowledge and understanding of who God really is and His relationship with me.

I decided, therefore, to prayerfully read the whole bible—from the book of Genesis to the book of Revelations. I did so with relative ease and finished the project in less than ten days.

To me, it is wrong for anyone to impose their belief system on others and suggest that the system that is being imposed is the only true system by which God can be reached.

I chanted as a Buddhist; I recited the Islamic words and prayed as a Moslem, and I also prayed as a Christian, fasted on daily basis, and prayed some prayers from the book of Psalms.

One day, I recall, my brother, Lionel, embarked on a journey to Kondise in the Western Region to see a man called Mr Edweh.

I had authorized Lionel to sign and collect my pay (for his own use) from the BOD Headquarters on my behalf, and he did so every second week, and because he was not employed, I had given him permission to stay in my apartment at the Walke Barracks.

As a prisoner, I had no need for the money, and at that stage of my life, I had not yet seen a savings and did not know of its use.

Occasionally, Lionel would use some of the money to get me stuffs that were permitted in the guardroom.

Mr Edweh was a medium and a friend of my dad, so Lionel went to discuss my arrest and detention with him. As a medium, he prophesied that I would be released, but we needed some patience.

The man told Lionel that I would not be killed, so they should not be afraid.

All of a sudden, I became a dreamer. By the time I woke up, whether in the morning, afternoon, evening or in the night, anything I dreamt of came to . Or they manifested where they were due.

That is, whether it had to do with someone visiting any of us in the guardroom or with something taking place involving our loved ones somewhere.

When I had such dreams, I called Awudu and explained them. I could describe the dress the visitors would wear and the time they would arrive and sometimes

what they would say or come with.

One day, I woke up from a dream and told Awudu he would be released on a Tuesday morning at 10:47 a.m. At that time we would be sitting in our bed. We would hear the sound of the keys, etc.

I also told him that after his release, he would be driven home in a Land Rover.

All these happened just as I saw them in my dream.

In the middle of July 1984, I was the only one left in the guardroom. I was picked up one morning by the NCDP forces and moved to the Office of National Investigations (ONI) to be interrogated by the Police Commissioner Mr Michael Nabana and his team.

Michael Nabana later became Michael Mahamudu. He knew my dad personally. They worked together at the Unique Service.

He, together with Lt Commander Ohiameh Johnson and two others, whose names I cannot , interrogated me.

Michael Nabana told his that he knew my dad personally. Thenceforth, the interrogators treated me pretty well.

They asked me to tell them my life history (like a curriculum vitae), and while I

did, they interrupted with questions.

They also wanted to know more about my s with some of those arrested, killed, or who escaped.

They also suggested that I had been seen on certain occasions entering the American Embassy with Ransford Artillery and Dr Samuel Lando. I told them it was not true.

I met my mate Lincoln Baddy and Lionel Tonyali Nando-Alani at the ONI while they were also in custody.

Lincoln was released to continue his work in the Army, but he died several years later in the United States after he had finished his duties in the army and was on vacation in New York.

Tonyali later took flight into exile in the UK where the two of us met several years later at his residence in London.

After one week of interrogations at the ONI, Michael Nabana told me that he would recommend my release from detention to the NCDP.

One fine morning on 27 September 1984, Emmanuel Wanduguri came and released me from custody and drove me to the NCDP HQ at the Operations Room at the Florida Barracks to meet Captain Anderson and Captain Manuel Gameli.

The two of them spoke at length with me. Gameli wanted to know whether I was still interested in serving in the army, and I said yes.

He declared me released and freed to go home.

Anderson then invited me to him on a lift to Walke Barracks, if I would not mind, so I agreed and he drove me to the Barracks.

8. The Aftermath of My Release from Unlawful Detention

Lionel was in Chedo when I was released. He went there on a NCDP ticket to be trained as a commando. Coming to live with me at the barracks despite my arrest and detention had created a synergy—he received my pay and found a job.

After a brief conversation with some of the soldiers on my block at the barracks, I set off to Nkran Central to the Vanguard Assurance Limited to meet my brother (Joseph) who had also started a job with the insurance company as an insurance officer.

He did not want his colleagues to know I was from detention, so he explained to his team that I had arrived from a military operation from Libya.

After his resignation from the police, my dad found a new job as a Chief Security Officer with the ministries. His office was within walking distance from

the Vanguard Assurance.

So I continued to his office to show myself to him.

He was chatting with some friends when he saw me. He broke the conversation immediately, gave me a warm hug, and decided immediately to close for the day.

It was about 3.00 p.m. and too early for him to close, but under the circumstances, he could not act otherwise, so he closed and we drove home to Malaambia in his Peugeot 404.

Can real joy be explained?

I ed the night at my dad’s place and left the following morning to the BOD Headquarters to report for work.

For the first week of my arrival at my Unit HQ, I had nothing to do. I reported for muster parade and that was all.

The istration wing was waiting for an official release notice from the NCDP HQ for me to be reintegrated.

It came, and I was reinstated into the Orderly Room to continue with my clerical duties with Matthew Kumali and Johnson Danskunor.

Due to my arrest and detention, I was behind in my military courses. Without these courses, there would not be any promotion for me.

So the BOD authorities invited me for an interview during which they asked whether I would be willing to an advanced course in stores and clerical istration.

To catch up with my mates, then, I embarked on a course with l Seveh Abioladum, l Listowel Biakor, l Alhassani Mohammad, l Sigmund Banillah, l Dattah, and others whose names I cannot now. I placed first and was declared the best student on that course.

The course title was ‘Storeman Clerk Technician AII to AIII’. Since it was meant for corporals moving to the rank of sergeants, I expected to be promoted from the rank of a private to the rank of a sergeant or at least a corporal.

Despite my performance on the course, however, BOD failed to jump my promotion. Instead, I was promoted to the rank of a Lance Corporal. Not even to that of a corporal. That did not go down well with me at all.

As usual, my authorities decided to keep me away from the headquarters and from the Orderly Room, so they deployed me on outside duties to the Castle again.

The guard duties continued as usual: from BOD to the Castle and then back to BOD and then to the Western African Republic Broadcasting Corporation and

then back to BOD and then to the Castle etc.

8.1 Trouble with WO1 Evans Obimodja

One early morning in April 1984, I returned to the Walke Barracks after a previous night’s visit to Sarah.

When I got to the barracks, some soldiers and friends informed me that WO1 Evans Obimodja had come to the Walke Barracks with his team of killers the previous night full of rage. They fired warning shots in search of me. Others also suggested that I should see WOI Amedugame immediately.

WOI Amedugame was in charge of the School of Ordnance. He was a friend and also an ex-Teen and was related to Manuel Gameli.

What soldiers and civilians told me that day was scary. Knowing that I was in for trouble with an extremely dangerous man who could shoot and kill in broad day light and go free, some also suggested that I should report to the Military Police Headquarters for my own safety. They feared that the man could easily shoot and kill me with an explanation that I had attempted to escape his arrest or easily make up some other story against me and would go free.

I decided to go to Amedugame’s office, but he was not present when I got there. Sensing that my presence at the school could easily be leaked to WO1 Evans Obimodja by his agents I resolved to hire a taxi to get to my dad for cash to leave the country into exile.

That day, I had Kroto in mind. I walked across the street and doubled my steps to the T-junction at the Lands Commission or Lands Department and stood on the hard shoulder facing the post office.

I was there waiting for the taxi when suddenly a pick-up car with an anti-aircraft gun mounted at the rear with three soldiers inside approached and stopped in front of me.

In less than a minute, another car also came to a halt. In the second car, I saw WO1 Evans Obimodja and his bodyguards.

They picked me up and drove me to the airport and locked me up in the air force guardroom.

A strange thing occurred after my arrest.

In the evening, while I was in custody at the Air Force base, Amorkor and Sarah claimed that they saw me, individually, at Kplema, at different locations.

As a matter of fact, according to them, they did not only see me but also had a conversation with me.

According to them, I sounded as though I was in a hurry which, to them, was quite unusual of me.

But the reality was that at the time that they claimed to have seen me I was asleep and dreaming that I was at Kplema looking for Sarah.

Before falling asleep, I I was deeply worried about Sarah and wished I had the opportunity to inform her of my arrest.

But as to how they physically saw me and chatted with me, I do not have an explanation.

This manifestation is referred to as bilocation.

The concept of bilocation or sometimes multi-location has been defined in religious circles as a psychic or miraculous situation wherein an individual or object is located (or appears to be located) in two distinct places at the same time.

Barely twenty-four hours after my arrest, a certain lieutenant came to release me and drove me directly to the Military Police HQ at Downing, where I saw my dad and WO1 Amedugame waiting.

In no time, we were invited into the office of Manuel Gameli. The major wanted to know how I was doing, and also he wanted me to explain briefly the circumstances leading to my re-arrest.

After my explanation, he shook his head in disbelief and explained that he was going to call WO1 Evans Obimodja immediately.

So right in front of us, he called him on his walkie-talkie, but the man did not respond and did not return his call either. After roughly thirty minutes or so, he declared that I was free and released to go.

We also discussed whether it would be safe for me to be at the barracks or perhaps relocate to my dad’s place at Malaambia.

The latter turned out to be the best option because that way, my dad and our neighbours could monitor my coming home and going out.

Manuel Gameli made a phone call to the Commanding Officer of BOD while we were waiting outside his office and called in WO1 Amedugame later.

The two of them came out of his office together, and the major explained that I should be armed with an assault rifle for self-defence.

So we drove in a military police Pinz-gauer, first to the BOD armoury where I was issued with a sub-machine gun (a fully loaded SMG). The driver then drove us (dad and me) to Malaambia.

I must say that to me it was an authorization by the Chief Operations Officer of the NCDP to shoot and kill WO1 Evans Obimodja anytime he crossed my path (at Malaambia), and I knew I could do it easily. I was ready for that!

The driver (a certain Corporal Shanku) saw my room and then took pictures of

the house before departing.

One day, I was at the WARBC Clubhouse with some BOD soldiers including two of my mates (L/l Adonis Pamha and l Victor Miakoma). We had gone there to drink beer, to chew kebabs, and to reconnect with ourselves socially.

We did not go there with the BOD soldiers. We met them there. So l Addeho Dumeh, l Alhassani Mohammad, and l Listowel Biakor ed us around our table.

While drinking, talking, and touching on contemporary issues of our lives in the army as against our lives as civilians, UN duties in Lebanon, etc., we also discussed my arrest and detention at the base workshop guardroom—my experience and how it all happened.

I explaining that it was WO1 Evans Obimodja et al. who arrested me.

That was all I said. I knew that I said nothing more and nothing less. I was not drunk.

But, somehow, Sgt Qaddi claimed he heard me saying that ‘I hate WO1 Evans Obimodja, so I would surely end his life’.

Being close, as he was to Evans Obimodja, he reported it to him and called Victor Miakoma (also a close friend to Qaddi) as his witness.

Unknown to me, Victor Miakoma had met WO1 Evans Obimodja together with Qaddi and had confirmed the latter’s claims to Evans Obimodja.

So the three of them, together with only God-knows-who, had set up a spy mission on my life in service of Evans Obimodja.

I learnt that a day before WO1 Evans Obimodja arrested me, he was in a car with L/l Yawah, his bodyguard, in the night driving from Downing towards the Walke Barracks when bullets were fired from a bush at him.

They managed to escape, and even though they tried to figure out who could be the one firing at them, they found no one because it was dark.

So after doing some ‘additions and subtractions’, they (WO1 Evans Obimodja and Yawah) figured that

1. I was not on any guard duty that day, 2. I was not at the barracks, 3. I was attending evening classes at the St Elizabeth Secondary School at Downing, and 4. I had publicly threatened to kill him.

In conclusion, it was obvious that Wilberforce could be the only one to be held responsible for the ‘attempt on his life’.

The story above was narrated to WO1 Amedugame by a close friend of Sgt Qaddi who was also a soldier at the School of Ordnance, and Amedugame also narrated the story to Francis Addonus.

So together with the authorities of BOD, Miakoma and Qaddi were first interviewed followed by Adonis Pamha, Addeho Dumeh, Alhassani Mohammad, and Listowel Biakor.

Another soldier, my next door neighbour, l Djandema Gandunu (a.k.a. Django), was also interviewed.

Django was not at the WARBC Clubhouse. He was the classmate of my senior brother, Edward Wilberforce, at Avonogo Secondary School (Vonsco). Both of them attended Vonsco with Isaac Bualaka, an ex-NCDP member at the time.

And that was not all. I was in the same class at the St Elizabeth Secondary School with Djandema Gandunu doing evening classes and preparing for the GCE ‘O’ Level examinations.

So I guess Francis Addonus et al. had wanted to figure out what I did with my private life.

Finally, I was invited to Addonus’ office, and the reasons behind my arrest were broken to me.

I denied ever saying such a thing and explained that the night in question I was

verifiably at Kplema with Sarah, and I slept there as well. I also explained that I had to sleep there (not in her house) because it was dangerous for me to be out in the night during curfew hours.

As a matter of fact, that day, Sarah arranged for me to sleep at her friend’s (Papisko’s) room at Kplema–Mankoadi.

Knowing what was going to happen, the Commanding Officer of BOD, Col Francis Addonus, arranged with the BOD authorities to settle, as early as possible, what was gradually becoming a dangerous precedence involving WO1 Evans Obimodja and me.

So Sgt Qaddi was tasked to invite WO1 Evans Obimodja to a party (a meet and drink event) organised by Francis Addonus at the BOD HQ.

It was either in the first or second week of May 1985 that the event took place. That day, I was with WO1 Amedugame all of the time, and we were taking a stroll in the compound after waiting for over an hour for WO1 Evans Obimodja to show up.

It sounded as though all those who were present were sympathizing with me. To some, I should be very careful. I should avoid all ex-Teens. I should stay away from drinking. I should rather be working as a clerk at the orderly room. But to others, I should make sure the man was a dead meat!

WO1 Amedugame did not want too many soldiers talking with me because they might be the same soldiers who would paint a different picture about me elsewhere!

Suddenly, our long awaited V.I.P guest drove into the yard, and within seconds, all were out to gaze at him.

He walked past the two of us. We greeted him; he responded and walked in haste to Francis Addonus.

He looked very nervous, worried, and disturbed but managed a smile.

Amedugame asked whether I noticed the fear on his face. ‘My brother, it’s you who is the hero, not him,’ Amedugame said.

The two of us were then called upon minutes later to meet and shake hands briefly with Evans Obimodja, and that was all.

He was there for about five minutes and left. After he had gone, Francis Addonus explained that the man did not want to be around because he had a national assignment and that he had dropped the case against me.

I remained at Malaambia for a while until I decided to return to the barracks.

9. 2 February 1986 Coup Plot—My Involvement

It was widely published by local and international media that a group of soldiers, led by Rtd Major Omar Mukhtar, attempted to kill Chairman Capt W. K. Avuh at a hotel in Badamashi on the night of 2 February 1986.

This story was not true. The following is exactly what happened.

In October 1985, I was back at the Castle with my mate L/l Francis Iliasu Ibrahim, protecting the president at his castle residence.

A former military intelligence personnel, l. Bernard Samuna who was then a wanted dissident, had secretly (under cover) come to Nkran to recruit soldiers for Major Omar Mukhtar.

I knew Samuna long before I ed out from the Teenagers Group. He is the senior brother of L/l Ibrahim Farouk, a mate of Niminado Dualah and Godfrey Dantey. Samuna was not an ex-Teen.

As for Major Omar Mukhtar, I had heard about him but had not known him personally. He was the number one most wanted dissident in Western African Republic at that time.

Though he had the number one most wanted man’s tag on his head in Western African Republic, Major Omar Mukhtar was actually based at Alhaji Ahmed Kokuh’s house at the Orange Avenue in Badamashi.

Like Osama Bin Laden living (or hiding) in Waziristan Haveli in a Mansion

close to a military academy in Bilal Town, Abbottabad, Pakistan, a suburban town housing retired military officers, Major Omar Mukhtar was living pretty close (about one hundred metres or so) to the house of the Commanding Officer of the Fourth Infantry Battalion on one hand and just about one kilometre or so to the Kattara Barracks on the other hand.

It was quite surprising and also very disturbing to see Samuna. I had come to my room on the C-Block room three at the Walke Barracks to take some rest. In the evening, he knocked on the door and walked into my living room.

That night, we discussed a lot of issues including the idea of removing Chairman Avuh from power.

We also discussed the whereabouts of all the ex-Teens who had also become dissidents and were living in Luameh, Abdden, Soglu, etc.

For obvious reasons, I should have avoided such s and also refrained from getting myself involved in issues of coup plotting, etc.

I was just about 20 years of age, and it was as if something came automatically over me. That is something that inescapably made me enjoy coup plotting. Fear was foreign to me. Was it a question of bravery?

I was just too young at that time, given my educational background (including knowledge and wisdom), to understand political implications on all sides of the political divide.

And obviously, it was not as though I was gearing up to make a meaningful political statement in Western African Republic, except for the fact that I was ever ready at that time to any military putsch as long as ex-Teens were involved to topple the government.

In all, from BOD, l Samuna recruited John Iliasu Ibrahim, Adonis Pamha, and me to be involved in a plot with Major Omar Mukhtar to overthrow the regime.

Due to what had previously taken place in my life as a soldier, in of suspicion and arrests, military training, and affiliation, etc., my movements within Nkran and beyond were monitored, so it was extremely dangerous to be attending such meetings in Badamashi.

All the same, Iliasu Ibrahim attended some of the meetings and updated Adonis Pamha, who also shared proceedings with me. It turned out that Iliasu Ibrahim dealt with Pamha directly while Samuna dealt with me directly.

The group had from almost every military unit in Western African Republic but never met together.

One day, l Samuna came to brief me about how things were going, and he gave me an amount of five thousand kalpe as a gift from Major Omar Mukhtar. I do not know how much he gave to Pamha and Iliasu Ibrahim, but soon after that my attention was drawn to a very big goat, Iliasu Ibrahim had bought and brought to the barracks.

Unknown to him, people were wondering whether something special was going on in his life. Suddenly, the barracks noticed financial changes in his life and

wondered!

Somewhere down the road, we took note of the challenges and difficulties WO1 Evans Obimodja had started encountering with Chairman Avuh. Iliasu Ibrahim had then become friends with Evans Obimodja’s bodyguard, L/l Yawah.

As far as I was concerned, it never came up for discussion as to whether WO1 Evans Obimodja and his cohort should be part of the group or not. Surprisingly, Iliasu Ibrahim had gone ahead, perhaps together with Samuna, to involve them without informing me. It was obvious that I would have terminated my involvement instantly. That probably explains why I was not informed.

In January 1986, I discussed the need to obtain a port with Adonis Pamha. Surprisingly, he suggested that Yawah could get it for me in less than a week.

He managed to talk me into it and insisted that Yawah had nothing against me, so I should allow peace to settle between us.

So Yawah brought the port forms, and we filled them together in my Walke room. He then took them away together with my four (4) port-sized pictures. The port never came.

2 February 1986 was going to be a final meeting, and my presence at the meeting was a must. I applied for a from the Castle, and it was granted without me having to explain anything.

Iliasu Ibrahim was also off duty that day, so, as previously agreed between us, we decided to travel on separate buses to Badamashi.

We both arrived there and met at our rendezvous around 16.30 hours, and after getting some food to eat, we continued our journey towards the Orange Avenue.

It was on our way to the Orange Avenue that Iliasu Ibrahim broke the news about Arthur Bugabu’s involvement to me.

WO1 Evans Obimodja drove to Badamashi with his bodyguards and his personal driver, L/l Bernard Ayivi.

Apart from them, paramilitary personnel from the sixty-fourth battalion under the leadership of Capt Anderson had also converged in Badamashi and were busy preparing an invasion at our meeting place at Orange Avenue.

Soldiers from the NCDP HQ and the Air Force had also arrived for the same operation—to arrest the coup plotters.

We finally got to Alhaji Ahmed Kokuh’s house around 19.15 hours. We saw a car with a tainted glass on the road and another with four men sitting inside. It appeared to me as if they were spying on us. Suddenly, I started feeling extremely uneasy in my body, but, well, I just brushed it off and continued our walk into the house.

That uneasiness was a warning signal, but I ignored it because I did not want it

to sound as though I was afraid.

It was a very big and beautiful house. A dark-skinned woman gave Iliasu Ibrahim the keys to the Teen’s quarters, and we walked into it. In no time, Bernard Ayivi and Yawah also walked into the room. We greeted and smiled with each other warmly.

When we entered the room, I saw a window on my left and three chairs lined up under it. And then I saw another window on my right and a single bed under it.

Ayivi sat on the first chair. I sat on the second chair. Ayivi and I, therefore, had our back to the front of the left window. Yawah got to the third chair and sat on it while facing the door. Iliasu Ibrahim sat on the bed.

While waiting for Major Omar Mukhtar to arrive, we engaged ourselves in a conversation. While we talked about the journey to Badamashi, the two of them, especially Yawah, was more particular about the whereabouts of all the participants. He appeared very nervous and restless, but Ayivi was calm.

He asked whether I had been there before, and while Iliasu Ibrahim was busy chatting with Ayivi, he asked me whether I knew of other soldiers who were also involved.

Then suddenly, Major Omar Mukhtar walked into the room. He greeted us all and without waiting for any introduction, he welcomed me and said he was pleased to meet me. He asked about our journey to Badamashi and wanted to know whether there was anything up our sleeves before the meeting started.

L/l Yawah submitted that we needed enough foreign currencies like CFA and US Dollars in our pockets so that in the event that something happens, we could escape with them.

Major Omar Mukhtar agreed and asked whether there were other suggestions.

Again, Yawah asked where the rest of the plotters were since he was told we were all going to have our final meeting that day. Major Omar Mukhtar explained that meetings had been going on throughout the day and that ours was the last one. Suddenly, Yawah and Ayivi broke down facially.

Major Omar Mukhtar reached out for a topographical map of Nkran and a list with the names of all the participants written on it. All of us drew closer to take a close look at it and also to listen attentively.

We quickly looked at the routes and identified important strategic locations that were relevant for our operations.

We were in the process of deliberating and strategizing troop movements and arms carriage on those routes when we heard some noise, like footsteps approaching the Teen’s quarters.

It was uncomfortable, so Major Omar Mukhtar stood up and opened the door to see who were there.

Suddenly, I heard a loud shout. ‘Stop, don’t move!’

Major Omar Mukhtar rushed back into the room, and closing the door behind him, he quickly took the map and the list of the names.

At the same time, firing had already started heavily from all angles.

In shock and disbelief, I shouted. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Bullets penetrated the door, and some of them hit Yawah because he sat facing the door.

Iliasu Ibrahim jumped through the window above the bed and was hit by a grenade or a para-illumination bomb that had been lobbed on that side of the building.

Initially, I also wanted to go through that window because it was dark and bushy behind it, but upon seeing and hearing the blast of the grenade and/or the bomb, I changed my mind and chose the other window.

Major Omar Mukhtar had also chosen the window, so he jumped through it and was gone. As soon as he completed his jump, I followed.

Yawah had dived under the bed, and his pistol was lying on the floor while Ayivi, who was standing with his back against the wall closer to the window, had

drawn his pistol pointing at me.

He was shaking and jerking, and he appeared to be vomiting something whitish. At first, I thought I should quickly kill them before I was killed. The thoughts and reactions occurred simultaneously. I changed my mind and decided to go. Ayivi could not fire a single bullet, and he saw me also jump through the window.

Apart from the two of them, none of us was armed!

When I got down from the window, I did not see Major Omar Mukhtar again, so I ran a few metres to the right towards the side of the boy’s quarters. There was a big tree there and a big branch of the tree had been blown down either deliberately or accidentally.

I stood by the wall for some seconds waiting for some darkness. When it came, I dived and crawled under the branch that had fallen down and decided to remain right there until I was arrested, killed, and/or if possible escaped.

After they had taken Yawah and Ayivi into safety, they turned on the residents of the house. The whole vicinity was cordoned off, and the firing with loud explosions never ceased.

The operation started around 20.15 hours and ended after midnight. At one point, a military helicopter hanged in the air and dropped grenades on the boy’s quarters. Before they left, the boy’s quarters had been levelled to the ground.

They shot and killed anything that moved and carried away some people from the house.

While I was lying down, I ed that I had learnt in military field craft that ‘in the night, nothing catches the eye quicker than sudden movements’.

So I decided to lie down as if I were dead.

Ants and insects attacked and invaded me, but I did not move. It was not a comfortable place and position at all. Either a wood or a stone was hurting my knee, but I did not allow that also to disturb me.

Then at about 0100 hour, soldiers from the Kattara barracks arrived and took over from the invasion force. The latter left the area in their care and disappeared.

I heard the voices of Evans Obimodja, Anderson, and a few of the paramilitary personnel (Barki Damte et al.) that I knew personally.

Somewhere around 0200 hours, a car drove away with the soldiers, and a few minutes later, I realized that the place had become like a cemetery, so it was time for me to get up and go.

I was not sure, so I waited for a while and started working mentally on how I was going to do it.

A few minutes later, an idea flashed into my mind, and it was followed by some warmth and a certain degree of easiness and relief. While still lying down, I decided that the only way I could come out of the area was to:

1. strip myself naked, 2. put latrine on my whole body from the scalp of my head to the soles of my feet, and 3. walk away by pretending I was insane.

I raised my head and struggled to get on my feet. I buried my military ID card right there and took off my clothing.

I could not find any toilet around, so I managed to pump out my own and rubbed it properly on my whole body.

I thought to myself that a mad man would not be smart enough to be walking in the bush at that time, so it was appropriate that I walked in the main street. That way, they would believe I was indeed insane.

After a brief prayer, I started my journey. I wanted to walk from the Orange Avenue area to the Badamashi Karah area. I wanted to walk to my friend’s (l Awudu’s) house to seek refuge.

When I got to the main entrance area of the Commanding Officer of 4BN’s house, I panicked because I saw one of my TG platoon mates (L/l Mark

Kansona) standing there in uniform together with about five other soldiers.

They were discussing the incident when they saw me approaching, so one of them turned his gun towards me instantly and shouted. ‘Halt, hands up!’

Upon hearing the command, I decided to laugh and dance as though I was making fun of them.

And then the soldier asked them in Bonu to relax because I was a mad man. He then turned around towards me and chased me away from the area and allowed me to go.

The escape plan appeared to be working pretty well after all. I had managed to cross the first major road block.

What appeared to be the next insurmountable hurdle was a road block that was about five hundred metres ahead, at the Holiday Inn hotel where it would be alleged that a group of soldiers, under the leadership of Rtd Major Omar Mukhtar, had attempted to assassinate Chairman Avuh.

I continued my victory walk with a certain degree of confidence, not because I was not afraid but because a mad man had nothing to fear.

I ed through the second road block in front of the hotel and did the same on the third road block that was also in front of the main entrance of the Fourth Battalion of Infantry with relative ease.

From there, I walked past the Zariama Police Post and continued through Badamashi-18-Kejetia and headed towards Karah to the Zamzam Chief’s house, where Iddrisu (l Awudu’s brother) lived.

I was very tired and physically weak, but I had no other option but to hurry to his place before proper daybreak.

On my way to his place, I had thoughts like what if I got there and none of them was around?

These thoughts, I must say, though they came up on and off, had no relevance whatsoever. I believed and was very confident, and with a certain degree of courage and determination, I was surely going to find a hiding place.

I arrived at Iddrisu’s place around 4.30 hours. When I got there, I said a short prayer and knocked at his window and informed him that it was me.

The house is a compound house. The Zamzam Chief lives there, and there are other tenants living there as well.

When Iddrisu saw me, he panicked. He took a few paces backwards and stood still, looking frontally at me in shock and disbelief.

Without delay, I explained that I was being looked for by the NCDP for an incident that would be in the media in a few hours.

So he ushered me into the compound, guided me to the bathhouse, and gave me three buckets of water to properly wash down.

After washing down well, we sat in his living room while I narrated my ordeal.

Later, his wife brought me some ‘Hausa koko’ porridge and ‘koose’ for breakfast. Later in the morning, Iddrisu ushered me into a small beautiful chamber and a hall in the house where I lived until my final departure from the house.

They tuned in to radio stations to listen to the news, and at some point in time, Iddrisu brought in some newspaper publications on the incident.

The tenants had seen me on some occasions in military uniform when I visited l Awudu, and it was all over in the media that anyone who accommodated any of us without handing us over to the security agencies, when arrested, would be guilty of the same offence which the suspects were being accused of.

Additionally, a NCDP directive on radio and in newspaper publications instructed that all cars with foreign number plates, especially Krotolese number plates, must report to any nearest police station.

Iddrisu’s errands also broke the news to him that John Iliasu Ibrahim was captured after he collapsed in a taxi. The taxi driver must have noticed that his enger was unconscious and was bleeding, so he drove him to the AgokoliWonoe Hospital where he was later identified as one of the fleeing soldiers.

Later in the evening, therefore, we decided that since there were multiple tenants in the house who did not know why I had suddenly come to settle in the house, we needed to inform the chief that I had come to lodge with them because I had developed some mental problems.

Iddrisu then took his shavings kit. We walked to the bathhouse again, and he shaved my hair to the skin.

Around 2000 hours the same day, I ate some delicious ‘Tuo Zaafi de Mia Suure’ with peanut soup without beer. I was viewing the news on TV when Iddrisu got information that the chief was ready.

So we walked to him, sat on a bench arranged for us, and Iddrisu explained everything to him in Zamzam.

He told him the truth!

Wondering how a young man like me could fall into such a problem, the chief assured me, with a pretty much worried or disturbed look, that all would be well. ‘Nshallah’, so I should not be worried.

My immediate concerns at that moment were about how I could personally contribute to my own safety and security on one hand and how I could flee the country into exile.

I had made it safely to their compound, and I needed to make it safely into another compound, with Kroto or Kankoon on my mind.

The following morning, the chief announced to the tenants that they should all help take good care of me because I was young and suddenly I had developed some mental problems. He added that they were in the process of introducing me to a ‘Mallam’ who would work on me spiritually.

As a result of this intervention, sympathy and empathy started manifesting in the house. As the days ed by, I remained mainly in my room but came out during the nights.

Occasionally, I stripped myself naked and then walked into the compound. That was when the wives were busy cooking meals while others were working on their productions. The ploy was just to confirm what the Zamzam Chief had already told them regarding my ‘illness’!

Upon seeing me some closed their eyes, others ran into their rooms while still others rushed to hold me, covered me with cloths, and in the process, prevented me from going out of the house.

Little did they know that I was all acting to save my life.

Iddrisu, without any explanation, had sent a message to Awudu at his hometown, Tonyali, asking him to come to Badamashi immediately. Though the messenger did not take explanations with him, Awudu later told me, as soon as he received that message, that he knew it was me.

As with Awudu, I gave directions and instructions through Iddrisu for Sarah to be ed. It was done pretty well.

It was as if I already knew and was expecting a situation like the one up here to take place. On a certain weekend in November 1984, I had embarked on a journey with Sarah to Iddrisu’s place in Badamashi.

The purpose of the journey was to introduce Sarah to Iddrisu and also to show her his place so that in the event that something happens and my whereabouts could not be traced, all she had to do was to come to Iddrisu.

After that trip, I made her to understand that in case I could not be found at Iddrisu’s place, then there would certainly be nothing anyone could do to find me.

I thought it was necessary for her to be equipped with that information and knowledge because as a soldier at that time, anything could happen, and I also warned her not to share that information with anyone.

One sunny and very hot afternoon, around 1400 hours, Iddrisu walked into my room as usual and invited me to come out with him to pay someone a visit.

Initially, I protested against his suggestions because, obviously, it was not a good idea, given the fact that the issue was still fresh to all Western African Republicans and things had not died down yet.

But he insisted and explained that the visit was rather in my interest and that he was confident that nothing was going to happen to me!

I agreed, dressed up in a smock with a head gear, took a Tasbear, and went out with him. The place was not far from his house. It was just about three hundred to four hundred metres away.

It was when we were ushered into the room that I realized that it was a ‘Mallam’ we had come to.

Visiting mediums in general was nothing new to me. After all, my daddy had taken me to the shrine of a certain Mr Edweh at Kondise Bakano before, and I had even sung a song ‘Now the day is over’ with spirits at Mr Edweh’s shrine before.

So I was not disturbed or worried. I was rather happy because I expected the Mallam to predict or prophesy my fate at that uncertain moment.

And he did.

He spread some images on some sand on a mat in his consultation room and interpreted them. He said the road would be stony and dangerous, but I should not be troubled because I would surely make it out of Western African Republic.

He also said I would be receiving some important visitors soon and that the

visitors were good people.

I did not have to pay for that consultation because we had come from the Zamzam Chief’s house; moreover, there was an existing relationship which had to be maintained between them.

We left and returned home. That was my first day of coming out of the compound after one week of hiding.

That same day, something interesting happened.

Around 17:30 hours, I was taking a nap in my bed—since I usually slept during the day and remained alert during the night—when someone was ushered into the living room. I woke up and listened to the conversation.

In case there was any evil awaiting me, I was considering the next possible steps at the same time. In that case, another window jumping exercise would have been the only possible escape route for me.

Or in a worst case scenario, they would have to gun me down; otherwise, anyone who came closer or held me would have to contend with a violent, a dangerous and a ready-to-kill fugitive fleeing from a group of blood suckers.

That is, a kind of a man who was ready to bite, chew a throat, a vein in the wrist and/or any sensitive part of the human body to bleed to death for his escape or before he was killed.

Under the circumstances, surrendering was no option.

While my over-stuffed brain was still hosting these thoughts, suddenly there was a crescendo in the tone of the conversation in the living room, and I started hearing the voice of Sarah.

Was she there alone?

Had she arrived under escort by the NCDP?

Were we safe?

These questions circled in my brain while I listened to what turned out to be an interview in the room between her, Mr Iddrisu, and his wife.

At that point, the words of the Mallam played back, assuring me that it would not be easy, but I would surely make it into safety.

After about ten to fifteen minutes with Sarah, Iddrisu walked into my room and asked undertone whether I would like to see her.

Upon Iddrisu’s instructions, the chief’s boys had also given the green light that the area was safe and that no suspicious movements could be seen in the area.

That meant that there were no unknown faces in the area at that time.

After assuring me that all was well, he asked Sarah to take a seat in my room and wait.

When she walked into the room, she looked very terrified, worried, and extremely disturbed. After all, she was just about 19, a civilian, and what was more, a young and innocent inexperienced girl, so it was quite obvious that the prevailing situation had certainly and sadly taken a toll on her features.

She saw me before sitting down on the sofa in my room but could not identify me and could also not greet me. She did not know what awaited her in the room, she was pretty much overwhelmed, and she was afraid.

So I smiled and laughed at her before getting up to her. That moment was extraordinary with tears of extreme joy. For some minutes, both of us could not have actually thought of NCDP, wanted man, or even death.

Iddrisu came into the room, but none of us saw him or took notice of his presence until we wanted to talk. That was when we both saw him stand at the entrance.

His wife brought us some drinks and biscuits and indicated that she was getting my favourite meal (tuo zaa fi) ready.

They then left us, and we touched base with each other. I noticed that Sarah was

no longer afraid. Suddenly she was ready to do anything and was also ready to go anywhere I would send her to.

She told me that the rumour was widespread in the barracks that I had been killed in the incident. Others even said that I had been seen at the mortuary of the Special Military Hospital.

She also broke the news about how the NCDP had arrested L/l Adonis Pamha, George Azaah (Iliasu Ibrahim’s brother and also a Commando of the sixty-fourth battalion) and a number of barracks boys including a Yovo (a warden at B.O.D.).

She explained that my daddy, just like a few neighbours at Walke Barracks, was sure I was alive.

The following morning, we dispatched her with specific instructions to inform my daddy and a few trusted ones like l Djandema Gandunu and Tifi (S/Sgt Nudah’s wife) that I was alive and also to see whether she could raise some funds for my escape.

9.1 The Journey to Akubaw

On the 16 February 1986, Sarah returned with some money she had received from Tifi. The following day, Awudu also arrived.

The occurrences were as if they were all arranged and coordinated, but they were

not. Unlike these high-tech days, we had no phones and had no computers and/or fax machines, and there was no way we could have posted letters in envelopes, etc.

We agreed that Sarah should leave for Nkran on the eighteenth of February because Awudu and I would also leave on the same day.

So early in the morning, we separated. I was completely dressed like a poor Moslem without a bag. I ed a bus towards the north of Western African Republic with Awudu in front of the bus, and I was sitting behind with the rest of the engers.

We drove through several check points and roadblocks with some delays here and there through Techiman, Malebu, Tangah, and then to Akubaw in the extreme north of Western African Republic.

We also had stopovers at various locations where engers refreshed themselves and ate something.

It was an all-day journey, and it was very tiring too because the condition of a third class road (untarred road with portholes) like the ones on the route to Akubaw was extremely bad, but that did not bother me at all.

Interestingly, we decided strategically that until we arrived at our final destination, and I had walked about fifty metres to my right to a place where foodstuffs were being sold, the two of us did not know each other and had nothing doing with each other in common. Our last but one stop was Tangah. From there, we boarded another bus to Akubaw.

From that moment, although we were travelling together in the same bus, I was physically on my own but mentally with Awudu.

We arrived in the evening at Tangah but did not want to continue the same day to Akubaw because we were very tired. It was a long journey from Techiman, and Awudu had already arranged with a certain Kusu who was ready and willing to accommodate us at his residence at the Tonyali estates. I recall the gentleman’s name as Busu of Rice Mills.

We continued our journey the next day as arranged and arrived at Alhaji Sully Dauda’s house in Akubaw late in the night. Awudu introduced me to him and explained that I was one of his (Alhaji Dauda’s) friend’s (Major Omar Mukhtar’s) boys and that it was now time for me to go and him.

The Alhaji then received me warmly. After taking supper together, he promised to get me out of the country early at dawn the following morning.

By way of a little digression, I should state here that the best meals I always enjoyed in Western African Republic are the northern Western African Republican cuisines. The kindest and most generous Western African Republicans I have ever known are also the Northners.

By this subjective observation, I am not suggesting a particular attitudinal or behavioural pattern of a cultural minority in Western African Republic nor trying to generalize.

I am, at least, only ing my personal appreciation from my practical experience and also expressing gratitude to those who saved my life from danger and gave me a new one.

Alhaji Dauda introduced us to a young man who put me behind him on his motor bike and gave me a ride on a bush road to Mangopong in Kroto through the Kroto-Songhai border town of Siyika.

The gentleman advised that a certain L/l James Sidikuama, who was a member of the erstwhile Brigade Force Committee (BFC), had been assigned by Chairman Avuh to monitor the border posts, so his boys were actively operating in that area. But, according to him, he knew the terrain better than James Sidikuama’s boys.

That same night, I separated from Awudu and slept in a room that was provided for the night.

5 Entry to and Activities in Kroto

1. The Journey to Luameh, Kroto

By 0300 hours on 19 February 1986, we were ready to embark on the final phase of my journey of escape to Luameh.

The journey from Badamashi to Luameh through Akubaw and Mangopong was a much needed one. It was the one and only viable choice.

Before I embarked on the journey, I asked myself whether the journey was necessary, bearing in mind that I could be arrested, shot, and killed on sight, and I could also bring Awudu and his entire family into danger.

I then said to myself before the journey started that this whole business of coup plotting, hiding, and escaping was in itself a very dangerous one, so that was not the time to start asking these questions.

So while waiting for the gentleman to finish with his prayers, I wondered again whether escaping to Kroto was the right choice, bearing in mind that Kankoon was also an alternative.

But, again, I settled with the fact that I was in the safe hands of Awudu rather than in the hands of any other person. And then, once more, when I ed the words of the Mallam, I decided to pray for mercy and protection and ‘Bon Voyage’.

A few minutes after the prayers, we were ready. We shook hands, walked to the red Honda motorbike, I sat behind him, and then we started slowly towards our destination.

After about twenty-five minutes or so, we got on a narrow bush road and continued for about another fifteen or twenty minutes and stopped behind a bushy tree.

The gentleman who spoke very bad English asked me to remain silent. He explained that we could be stopped by James Sidikuama’s boys, but in case that happened, we would explain that we had set traps for animals in the bush, so we were going round to see whether animals had been caught.

A few minutes later, we set off again.

As we set off, he would stop the motor, get down, walk into the bush, and then come back for us to continue as if, indeed, he was checking on some traps.

In all, he stopped four times, and then somewhere down the road, he turned to me and shouted ‘Allahu Akbar’, and I responded ‘Ameen’ without knowing why.

And then with a big sigh of relief showing on his face, he said, ‘We cross am, so we dey inside Songhai’— meaning that we had crossed the border and were already in Songhai.

Joy and happiness are indeed a state of feelings that cannot be described or explained with mere words, more especially, when that state has to be described on paper.

A night before the journey, at Akubaw, Alhaji Dauda gave me ten thousand CFA for transportation and feeding to Luameh.

We rode to Siyika, a very small border town or a village if you ask me. Just as the gentleman was instructed by the Alhaji, he put me on a Mangopong-bound mini bus.

On my part, Alhaji Dauda also directed me to ask the drivers to take me to a certain Alhaji Sarka who was also a close friend of Major Omar Mukhtar in Luameh. He asked me to tell the drivers that he was the one who had sent me to them.

I on our way to Siyika, we saw some Songhaian border patrols, and he greeted them in their local language and gave them some money, and then they said, ‘Bon Voyage’, and we continued on our journey.

At that time, it was about 0700 hours, and the town as well as the station were already full of people.

Then the initial challenges started to show up. I do not speak French, and I do not understand any of the languages there, but that was not really a problem. The problem was for me to get to my final destination, Luameh.

By 0845 or 0900 hours, the mini bus was full, and the motor rider had already left me, but before he left, he ed on the Alhaji’s instructions to the Mangopong-bound driver, on my behalf.

I sat in front of the car just to be sure I was seeing everywhere and was also enjoying perhaps the most interesting and joyful freedom journey of my life.

It was fun.

With great joy, I continued my journey alone to Mangopong and then to the lorry station where I bought some ‘Hausa koko and koose’ for breakfast.

The driver did very well. He also held my hand and walked with me, after he had parked his car, to the Luameh-bound transport and handed me over, on Alhaji Dauda’s instructions to the driver.

There I had to wait for hours for the car to be full, so we left the station later in the evening. Here, again, I was in the front seat. We arrived in Luameh the following morning.

The journey was quite long, but, all in all, the roads, though narrow, were far better than the journey from Badamashi to Akubaw.

We drove through Sanuku, Yadeville, Kpanduriga, and then to Luameh.

It was only on this journey that I managed to sleep, but even that it was just some packets of short sleeps here and there.

On the twentieth day of February, we arrived safely at the Luameh bus station. Again, the driver asked me to wait for him, and after sorting himself out, we took a taxi to Alhaji Issa’s place.

When we got there, he had not prayed yet and had not taken his breakfast too, so we were asked to take our seats by the side of the main building in a compound house.

I noticed that wherever prominent Alhajis were, there were a lot of women living there too. Whether in Badamashi, in Akubaw or in Luameh, it was always the same.

Here again, they were busy with housework, and the children were also playing around.

After about two hours of waiting, we were ushered into a living room in which we were asked to take our seats on a beautiful cushioned sofa covered with a neat simple rubber. The fair-skinned Alhaji Issa, well-dressed in Northern attire, then walked gorgeously into his seat and asked in Hausa what he could do for us.

After a brief explanation and an informal introduction the ball was now in my court.

I explained briefly in English that I was on my way to Major Omar Mukhtar, but I did not know how I could get to him, so I was pleading with him to assist me.

He stood up and started walking away but responding to me, and at the same time, he asked, ‘Why me? And by the way, who sent you to me?’

Again, I explained that it was Alhaji Dauda, but before I could explain further, he stated, ‘I don’t know him. Who is he? Where is he from? And what is he doing here?’

Afterwards, he came back from outside the living room and asked me to wait outside in the compound while he ed some of his friends to enquire whether they knew the man I was looking for.

He eventually drove out to Major Omar Mukhtar because he knew him personally to enquire whether I was an invited guest.

The driver had already left the house, so I was given a chair to sit on under a mango tree in the house.

The women in the house served me with drinks and food.

Luckily for me, I could speak a little Hausa and a considerable amount of Fonu, a language with words and tonal expressions that are similar to the Mina of Kroto. My English language also helped me a great deal although French was widespread.

2. Meeting Major Omar Mukhtar at his Official Residence in Luameh

Under the tree at the Alhaji’s house, I slumbered occasionally. I was not afraid nor did I anticipate anything negative.

I thought of and considered multiple scenarios in case Major Omar Mukhtar was not in Luameh. Would I, for instance, be thrown out of the house?

It was about 1630 hours that the Alhaji returned and asked me to come along with him.

When we got to his car, I saw a gentleman sitting behind, so he asked me to take the front seat. I sat in there and greeted the man behind.

Seated behind the steering wheel and upon starting the engine of the car, the Alhaji explained with a stern look on his face while driving that the man behind was a Krotolese security officer and that I had two options:

1. To be deported to Western African Republic if I would confess that I had been sent by the NCDP government on a spy mission, or

2. Be kept in Krotolese custody for years while the authorities investigated the true reasons of my visit to Kroto.

After enquiring about my age, he quickly asked me to speak the truth so that they helped me because I was too young for this.

I responded and told them that I would rather remain and perish in Krotolese jails than go to Western African Republic since the Krotolese government would not kill me during their investigations, but the NCDP would.

‘Were you with the security agencies in Western African Republi,c and what did you do or why are you here?’ the Alhaji questioned.

I explained that indeed I was in the military and that I was escaping for my life, but I was not prepared to give details until I was sure I was at the right place.

Thenceforth, I refused to answer any of their questions. I thought of what I could do in the event that they were truly going to deport me to Western African Republic.

So at some point while driving, he pulled over from the main street and entered an untarred road and drove for a few minutes to a halt and asked me to get down and come with him.

We entered a house in a suburb of Luameh called ‘Serakwa’ and saw two men who appeared like security officials or bodyguards.

One of them greeted me and said, ‘Welcome Wilberforce!’

I responded, shook hands, and together we walked into the house.

I saw Major Omar Mukhtar sitting with Capt Nugbagba and Colonel Mahmud Abatcha. With a sigh of relief and freedom smile on my face, I walked towards them.

Major Omar Mukhtar called me, got up from his seat, hugged me warmly, offered me a seat, and with a fatherly smile on his face, he asked what he could offer me to drink.

With smiley shyness, I requested for water, and his house help brought me some.

The Alhaji’s job was also done. He shook hands with me and left with the gentleman who was sitting behind in the rear seat of his car.

After I had taken the water, the three officers then welcomed me again and listened to my story of how I managed to escape.

It was at that time that I got to know that Major Omar Mukhtar had sustained a bullet wound on his right thigh.

After I had told my story and taken my dinner, upon Major Omar Mukhtar’s instructions, Capt Nugbagba drove me in a Nissan Bluebird to another suburb of Luameh called ‘Kakali’ where I was to stay until further notice. The caretaker of the house was a certain l Isaac, a former Military Intelligence (MI) personnel.

The officers warned me not to reveal secrets of the incident to anybody.

The following day, Isaac indicated that he was going to pick one of our colleagues who had arrived. I was in the house when he brought in l Nsamkor, formerly of the Third Infantry Battalion, Freedom Barracks, to me.

Nsamkor was an active soldier when he ed the plot in Badamashi. He had also managed to escape. He did so upon hearing about our plight in Badamashi.

A few weeks went by, and everything about our presence in Luameh was shrouded in secrecy. We did not see anybody we knew before coming to Luameh, and we were not allowed to go out too.

One day while we were sitting outside in the porch of the house, suddenly two ex-soldiers rang the bell and came in looking for Isaac, but he had gone out at the time. Fortunately, Nsamkor knew one of them, so we had some conversation with them. They indicated that they would inform some of the ex-Teens that I was in that house.

3. Integration into the Exile Community

A few hours after they left, L/l Mahama Adamu, L/l Charles Abdulai, l Godfrey Dantey, L/l Jonas Hansen, and Fellas Eglo, a civilian and former driver of former NCDP member, Christian Dauda Mati came to the house looking for me.

That same day, the news broke out in town that I had arrived in Luameh. A few days later, the news travelled to the exile communities in Odera and the Kankoon.

Days later, Major Omar Mukhtar relocated us to another suburb of Luameh called ‘Wudahy’, where majority of the dissidents were.

At Wudahy, in his camp, we were given single rooms in one of the houses that were occupied by former military intelligence officials. All of them were other ranks.

The room given to me was previously occupied by the late L/l Sinkah Lallani and his wife Nkor Sinkah. Lallani was a former member of the BFC regime who was murdered, without any official trial, by the NCDP when he visited Western African Republic.

His wife was still in the room when I arrived. She was asked to leave, and the room was given to me. It was in the boys quarters of the main house.

The house commander was Sgt Dzolanani Roberts. The other occupants were:

1. l Balaju, 2. l Nsamkor, 3. Police l Awudu Lanny, 4. Police l Godlove Blagoji, 5. Police l Kingston Sleepy, 6. Mr Muritala, and 7. L/l Zakariah.

L/l Zakariah came to us at a later stage. He was a soldier at the Fourth Battalion of Infantry at the Kattara Barracks and was also part of our group.

4. The Main Camps and Groups within the Exile Community

It was at Wudahy that we were briefed about the two main camps:

1. That of Major Omar Mukhtar, which was sponsored, among others, by Mr M. N. Dhramani and Joshua Sumaila. 2. The other camp, which was sponsored, among others, by Sgt Nando-Alani.

The former was the camp that comprised mainly former Military Intelligence personnel and the latter was mainly ex-Teens.

There were others which were smaller groups. of these smaller groups were also of the two main camps.

The groups were:

1. The Luameh Menz Group which belonged to Mr Goddo Pinto Jr and the Blogga Brothers namely, Redding Blogga, Read Blogga, Timothy Blogga, and Nandin Blogga.

The main military s for this particular group for Luameh were:

1. L/l Mahama Adamu for Kroto, 2. l Mark Afutsevi for Kankoon, and 3. The Luameh Slahah Group which belonged to Lt Col Benjamin Locado

The main for this group was L/l Alokia a.k.a One-Man-Thousand. He was also known as Shoemaker because he produced local shoes and sold them in Luameh.

And then another group also emerged at a later stage:

1. The Capt Emmanuel Adinkunle Group whose main for Luameh became L/l Alokia.

Somewhere down the road, I came into with a young man and his wife at the UNHCR office in Luameh.

The two of them approached me, and we became friends. The man was Capt Muah Sathia of the Gorovian Army with his wife Abigail Maambi.

Capt Sathia had also arrived together with his wife in Kroto through Kankoon and Western African Republic to seek asylum because, according to him, he had attempted to assassinate President Thompson Blankson of Gonovia.

While in Kroto, he sought to work with the Western African Republican exile community and also solicited help from the same to overthrow Thompson Blankson.

5. Political Asylum in Kroto

A few days after my arrival at Wudahy, I was taken first to the Sureté Nationale for a formal registration and application for residence permit as well as to be granted the status of a political refugee.

We first went to the offices of Kommissaire Sakasaka and Kommissaire Lubangu. They were the top security officials of the system. These gentlemen, I was told, had access directly to the president.

From there, we went to the office of the UNHCR to meet the officer in charge, Mr Silas Latevianor, where, again, I applied for political asylum.

So in collaboration with these two institutions and after subsequent interviews and investigations here and there, my application was granted, and I was issued with a Cart D’Identité to live in Kroto.

The UNHCR started giving me a monthly subsistence allowance of CFA thirty thousand but increased it to CFA forty-five thousand when Sarah ed me at a later stage in Luameh.

I was introduced to the key players or actors in the system. First, I was introduced by Sgt Dzolanani Roberts to Major Moses Maleman and then to Major Mohammad Farh, Major Bella Nasiru, Capt Bongo Smith, Capt Nugbagba, whom I had already met, and then WO1 Adadedom. These were the main officials of the Omar Mukhtar camp.

L/l Mahama Adamu also introduced me to the key actors of the Nando-Alani camp. They were l Braimah Iddrisu, l Godfrey Dantey, l Redding Rudders, and l Jacob Onyamah.

Jacob Onyamah was not at Wudahy but at another suburb called ‘Kaludu’, which was about three or four kilometres westwards of their Wudahy house.

L/l Alokia introduced me to Lt Col Benjamin Locado and Capt Emmanuel Adinkunle.

Finally, Mahama Adamu introduced me to the Blogga brothers group at Menz.

After all these introductions, I was asked formally by L/l Mulamus (a former drummer of Recce Regiment—the ‘Real Ambushers’ a.k.a. Neat) before his authorities to make a choice of where I would like to be—in other words, in whose group or camp I would belong.

To them, it was obvious. I was young and an ex-Teen. I had involved myself in these activities because of the ex-Teens and everything about my military life was centred around ex-Teens, so it was time to show loyalty.

The Military Intelligence group also had ex-Teens amongst them. Capt Nugbagba was one, and Sgt Dzolanani Roberts was another, but they were elderly people, so the morale about hanging around them was pretty low.

Meanwhile, the Military Intelligence personnel (MIs) also had serious issues with of the Nando-Alani camp. Issues tracing back from how Prof Olu Tukunya regime was overthrown by ex-Teens way down to how divisions came into the exile community—just to name a few.

The trust level within the exiles was at its lowest ebb and group dynamics were at their highest best.

I the day I was handed over to Sgt Dzolanani and had a meeting with him. He mentioned that they all knew I was an ex-Teen and that it was obvious I would be visiting them, but he also wanted me to understand that I was going to be monitored.

A few weeks later, Major Omar Mukhtar sent for me to enquire about what was going on between me and the other groups in the system. It turned out to be that my own colleagues, l Nsamkor, L/l Zakariah, and Sgt Sumaila, who had also arrived at a later stage, had gone to report me to Major Omar Mukhtar.

At that stage, Mahama Adamu had become a real brother to me, and my relationship with him had obviously become very intense and very close.

So we sat down one fine day to strategize and to prepare for a response. We concluded that it was too early to switch sides with Major Omar Mukhtar in favour of Nando-Alani. We also decided that it was high time we sat down with Major Omar Mukhtar on these issues.

One day, therefore, Mahama Adamu and I paid Major Omar Mukhtar a visit and discussed the issues. He, Mahama Adamu, had a positive relationship with him and did not want a stain on that relationship.

So we explained and put all the cards on the table that we were involved with each other and were keeping ‘each other’s back’. We mentioned our s with the Blogga brothers too.

Major Omar Mukhtar agreed and advised that our safety was of prime importance to him and that we should be careful in how we deal with people and what we say at all times and that if at any time there was something we did not understand, we should not hesitate to come to him.

After that meeting, Mahama Adamu advised their camp to be patient with me. In my presence, he suggested that it was also obvious that in the event of any

operation I would naturally be on their side. To him, that was what counted. That exactly was how I also saw it, but, again, this did not go down well with some of them, especially the non-ex-Teens of the Nando-Alani camp. But because Mahama Adamu was a very influential personality among the exiles, they could not object but to accept.

From that day onwards, I was allowed to attend some of their meetings as a ‘trusted’ friend.

6. Sarah ed Me in Luameh

One of the few issues that Sarah discussed with me when she last saw me in Badamashi was her 1.5-month-old pregnancy.

With that on my mind in addition to my all-important desire to update her on developments with regard to my arrival and safety in Luameh, I discussed the issue with Mahama Adamu until we finally settled on a perfect plan.

We decided that Mahama Adamu’s fiancée (Vivian) must travel to Nkran and bring her first of all to visit us in Luameh.

So I gave Vivian the exact directions to her place at Kplema and also to my dad’s place at Malaambia.

By the time she was ready to take off, I had received my first UNHCR allowance, so I provided for the complete journey for the two of them, and

together with Mahama Adamu, we saw her off at the Withersland border.

Vivian was quite smart. She knew and understood the environment pretty well and had also tasted life at the Florida Barracks before, so the terrain was business as usual to her.

Sarah, the shy and innocent-looking type, knew how to comport herself in the presence of the NCDP hounds, but border crossing activities were entirely new to her.

We trusted that Vivian would deliver on her promise to our expectation, and she did just that—four days after her departure the two of them arrived in Luameh.

I had gone to Kaludu, a suburb, with Mahama Adamu to visit Godfrey Dantey and others that day. Somewhere around 1700 hours, we decided to walk home to Wudahy. We separated in front of my house, and Mahama Adamu continued about three hundred metres to his home.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Abdul Mehemet, alias Abdul Jr, came for me telling me that there was a visitor waiting for me at Mahama Adamu’s place.

Who would that visitor be, if not Sarah, I questioned?

After drinking a cup of water, I hurriedly walked to Mahama Adamu and saw Sarah sitting shyly with them and looking very exhausted.

We celebrated her arrival at a nearby drinking bar, at Bar Lobeto. The following day, I took her to Major Omar Mukhtar’s place at Serakwa and introduced her to him formally. After the introduction, she was allowed to visit the camp at any time and was also allowed to stay there.

7. Life in Luameh—Friends and Group Dynamics in Luameh

Generally, any Western African Republican exile group with a political military and/or police orientation was or appeared to be either actively involved in an open or a clandestine operation that was aimed at toppling the NCDP regime or was operating in exile against the overthrow of the NCDP .

The only Western African Republican exiles, who were in no way whatsoever involved in the preparation to overthrow the NCDP regime, were those who had nothing to do with the ‘dissident’ communities.

Specifically, however, I was not aware of any further attempts or plots by Major Omar Mukhtar or any of his top lieutenants to overthrow the NCDP. I would say the same for Nando-Alani’s group.

The Bloggas

After all said and done, one fine morning, Mahama Adamu and I walked to Menz upon invitation from Mr Goddo Pinto Jr to be introduced to them formally and also to their group of friends.

I was ready to that group again because there was no way I could be so involved with Mahama Adamu and not ing him in that group. After all, he would watch my back, and I would do the same for him.

Apart from Goddo Pinto, Nandin Blogga, Redding Blogga, Read Blogga. and Timothy Blogga were also present at the meeting. They all lived in that same house. Timothy was not always there because he was actually based in London and had been visiting the others from there.

We also met other friends of the house including Adam Otto, David Garvey, a former customs officer, and Gingers Moore, a former president of the National Union of Western African Republic Students (NUGS). Gingers Moore was a younger brother of Major Gates Moore, a member and spokesperson of the BFC, who was also based in London at the time.

After that visit, the door was opened for me to come to them at any time, so we kept going to the Bloggas almost every day.

In that group, I worked with Mahama Adamu, Gingers Moore, Abdul Jr, a young man known to us as Jankonu, and another civilian who was also known to us as Dzolanani Kululu.

Like Jankonu, Dzolanani Kululu was not based in Luameh but in Western African Republic.

This group was active for a while but disappeared when Gingers Moore, Jankonu, Abdul Jr, and others were arrested by the NCDP regime in Western African Republic.

With the exception of Jankonu, who managed to escape arrest, the rest were executed.

Capt Emmanuel Adinkunle

With Capt Rtd Emmanuel Adinkunle, I recall that about two weeks prior to his arrest in Nkran, Mahama Adamu and I were invited by L/l Alokia to meet Capt Adinkunle at his residence at Slahah.

So we visited him, had some open discussions with him, and we became friends.

After about two hours with him, we decided to go home. He gave us some money and rescheduled another meeting.

I we arrived late for the second meeting and were told by a caretaker that his master waited for us the whole of the afternoon before travelling in the evening.

The following day, we heard that Capt Adinkunle and l Salisu had been arrested on the Boleman-Nkran motorway.

Capt. Muah Sathia

As said previously, I came into with this gentleman with his fair-skinned wife (Abigail Maambi who could for a half-cast or an Arab) at the UNHCR office one day when we had all gone there for our monthly subsistence allowance.

That day, Capt Muah Sathia was in red track suits, and Abigail (who was pregnant at the time) was also in a red long dress.

By their turnout, they were obviously not looking like Western African Republicans, so out of curiosity and an inquisitive mind, I drew closer to them and got my suspicion about their not being Western African Republicans confirmed by their English accent.

We greeted and introduced ourselves to each other and became friends from that day.

With time, we visited each other at home, cooked, and ate together.

We also discussed the idea of working together in pursuit of our objectives and agreed understandably that any group (Western African Republican or Gorovian) that was ready to move, we wound pair up, and when we were successful, we would help the other group as well.

One day, he introduced me to his boss, Ray Little, who, according to Muah, was promoted by Thompson Blankson from the rank of a corporal to the rank of a general.

Captain Sathia was also promoted from the rank of a private soldier to the rank of a captain when Master Sergeant Thompson Blankson took over power.

We had a lot of things doing in common and became good friends, but again, the relationship broke down when Capt Sathia was arrested by the Krotolese authorities and kept in detention for a very long time.

He was later released. He then relocated to Canada with Abigail together with their son who was born in Luameh while Capt Sathia was in detention.

The Civilian Intellectual Community

Apart from Gingers Moore and Adam Otto, I also became friends with Gerrad Lardu of ‘What do you know fame’ and Nicholas Addo.

But among them all, I was closer to Nicholas Addo. I guess it was so because he was more of the ‘wake up’ type to me.

A ‘wake up’ type was one who would ask you to slow down or even pause or stop for a moment and reflect or ask yourself whether you were on the right journey.

Nicholas Addo encouraged me to learn and taught me more about leftist scientific political theories and the difference between Socialism, Communism, Marxism, Nkrumaism, etc.

He gave me the following books to read:

1. Vo Nguyen Giap, ‘People’s War, People’s Army’ and 2. Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara, ‘The Bolivian Diary’, with introduction by Fidel Castro (this book is still with me).

Nicholas Addo also helped me in applying to the Expatriate Community Church of Luameh to sponsor me to go and study journalism in the UK. Unfortunately, the application was declined.

My relationship with Nicholas Addo developed pretty well. As with Mahama Adamu, the two of us became like brothers.

Nicholas Addo was living in the same house with Gerrad Lardu, but eventually, he was left alone.

I ‘saving’ Nicholas Addo’s life one day at his home at Kaludu when I visited him one early morning.

He was lying struggling on the floor and had already vomited when I got there. It turned out to be food poisoning, so I rushed him to the hospital in a taxi, and he got treatment.

Adam Otto also gave me ‘Marx for Beginners’ by Rius to read, and this particular book is also still with me.

In all, I got encouragement, motivation, and help in diverse ways from my civilian friends to pursue education and, at least, to visualize some kind of light at the end of the tunnel.

8. L/l John Iliasu Ibrahim’s Arrival in Luameh

I in April or May I had a personal conversation with Major Omar Mukhtar when I paid him a visit.

In that conversation, he broke the secret to me that my friend, John Iliasu Ibrahim, would be ing us in Kroto in a few days.

I knew of his escape from detention to Abdden. It was widely speculated at the time that Major Omar Mukhtar was the one who arranged for his escape from the hands of the NCDP.

Whether this is true or not, I cannot confirm. To me, what was important was that we all managed to escape from the hands of the murderers.

Eventually, Iliasu Ibrahim arrived and was also given a room at Kaludu, which was about a kilometre away from our house eastwards.

He was in that house with Staff Sergeant Sumaila, l James Jaakwah, W01 Adadedom, and others.

9. The Birth of My First Child

On the night of 16 September 1987, Sarah went into labour and had signs of readiness to deliver.

So we hired a taxi and drove to Dr Blandly Kerekum’s Clinique where she remained till the next day and delivered our son, Cliff Wilberforce. .

Before the delivery on 17 September, I drove together with Nicholas Addo to the clinic to visit Sarah and remained there till she delivered.

Unfortunately, the Krotolese doctors and midwives did not allow me to witness the delivery.

After a few days, they were discharged, and I brought them home.

Together with Mahama Adamu, I informed Major Omar Mukhtar and the Blogga brothers, and when it was time for the outdooring, it was Nandin Blogga and Gingers Moore who played the key roles in getting it beautifully done.

Nandin did not only take care of the financial aspect (on behalf of the Blogga brothers and Goddo Pinto Jr), but as a matter of fact, he drove their BMW 320 saloon car personally to buy all the drinks and stuffs that were needed.

Though Major Omar Mukhtar also contributed financially, the lion’s share came from the Bloggas.

Sometimes, he visited Sarah and the baby together with Gingers Moore and Abdul Mehemet.

10. Coup Attempt in Kroto

On 23 September 1987, a group of some seventy armed Krotolese dissidents crossed into Luameh from Western African Republic in an unsuccessful attempt to overthrow the Krotolese government.

It is not clear as to why Western African Republican political refugees were invited by the UNHCR (Silas Latevianor) to a general meeting on the 24 September 1987. Was it a mere coincidence or it was in favour of the NCDP which was widely believed to be behind the unsuccessful attempt to topple the Krotolese government?

Knowing that there was trouble in Kroto because of the failed attempt, I think it was not a good idea to have gone out of our houses to honour the UNHCR invitation, but we did.

Once again, I was with Mahama Adamu when we arrived at Latevianor’s office. Some had already showed up for the meeting but others had not.

After waiting in the meeting room for about thirty minutes, roughly, Latevianor came out and called off the meeting and asked us to go home. We managed to do that safely.

A few hours after we had returned home at Kaludu at about 1600 hours, a military Bedford truck arrived with armed Krotolese soldiers and demanded to see our house commander.

At that time, Major Bella Nasiru had already moved from his residence to us in our house. Given his rank, he had consequently assumed the position of the house commander, and Sgt Dzolanani Roberts had become his assistant.

After speaking to Major Bella Nasiru in French, they invited all of us to come with them in their truck to the Sureté Nationale, so we got ourselves together and drove with them to the Police Headquarters, which was just about one hundred metres away from the Sureté Nationale.

When we got there, they collected our refugee ID cards and locked all of us up in their cells till the next day.

On 25 September, they started interrogating us individually, first, at the police headquarters and then at the Sureté Nationale. They then released all of us to go home.

Very unfortunately, on our part, however, they did not convey us back home in their truck, but they advised us to go home on our own.

We decided not to move in one big group but in smaller groups of about two or three persons in each.

I was with Mahama Adamu and L/l Jonas Hansen when at some point at a bus station at Slahah, some Krotolese civilians identified us as Western African Republicans!

On the whole, there was nothing wrong with being a Western African Republican in Kroto, but because of the failed coup attempt, news had it that a number of Western African Republicans were behind the coup and were on the run, so the citizens were helping the authorities to apprehend the so-called fleeing Western African Republicans.

We had ed a enger queue waiting to board a bus home when they heard us speaking English and started shouting. ‘These are Western African Republicans!’ ‘Here are they, fleeing Western African Republicans!’

Immediately, we were surrounded by engers, pedestrians, and police, so we removed our ID cards, and a police-written statement explaining that we had already been cleared of no wrong doing.

But the police authorities that had surrounded us were not interested in our excuses, and our situation became even worse when they found Jonas Hansen’s military picture in his pocket.

To them, that was enough proof that we were involved in that failed coup attempt.

The police lined us up in front of a wall while others were busy firing warning shots into the air, with some demanding that we should be killed without delay.

At about 150 metres away from us, we saw a similar grouping of people because l James Jaakwah and others had also been arrested.

Suddenly, Krotolese soldiers appeared on the scene and had a conversation with the police in a language I did not understand at all.

At that moment, Mahama Adamu spoke to me and told me that they were speaking Baruli and that he was also a Baruli.

After speaking with the police, the soldiers walked over to us at the wall, asking us to come with them into their truck.

At that moment, Mahama Adamu started speaking Baruli with them, and instantly, they turned around and decided to listen to him.

Mahama Adamu then seized the opportunity and explained things to them. He also mentioned the names of Lubangu and Sakasaka in his explanations.

It was during that time that the others started firing to kill those who had been arrested at the other end.

They shot l James Jaakwah, L/l Galilu, and l Manning. James Jaakwah died, but the rest survived with broken and fragmented legs.

The soldiers put us in their truck and drove us to their barracks where Jaakwah died.

At the barracks, the soldiers decided to conduct their own interrogations, so they started by asking who we were, name, and what we had come to Kroto to do.

When Jaakwah mentioned his name as James, he gave up his spirit with a deep long breath and died. He had had no medical attention or care and had been bleeding for a very long time.

Eventually, these soldiers understood Mahama Adamu, agreed with a certain degree of satisfaction that we were indeed harmless, and then they released us to go home.

10.1 Expulsion of Western African Republican Dissidents from Kroto

The failed coup attempt was believed to have been planned and masterminded in Nkran, and it was also suggested that there were some Western African Republican paramilitary personnel involved.

It was also suggested that some high-profile individuals of the NCDP had some interest in creating a long power corridor of Fonu-speaking nations from the

Yany Region of Western African Republic through Luameh to Eninu.

There was a host of theories coming up with all of them, suggesting the NCDP’s involvement and/or participation in the event.

After the event, Krotolese and Western African Republican government officials engaged in bilateral negotiations to expel some Western African Republican dissidents from Kroto and Krotolese dissidents from Western African Republic in the two countries’ mutual security interest.

As a result, the Krotolese officials arranged with the UNHCR to honour their obligation by sending a number of our people through Eninu to Odera.

The UNHCR had to come in because in those days, it was believed that Eninu and Songhai had a special relationship with the NCDP regime, a relationship that empowered the three countries to arrest and deport their dissidents to their countries of origin.

So with the UNHCR’s involvement, protection and ‘sauf conduit’ or safe conduct was guaranteed.

It was the Western African Republic-Kroto arrangements, therefore, which saw the Blogga brothers and Goddo Pinto, Major Omar Mukhtar and others leave Kroto for good.

And when the Bloggas were leaving, they left their house in the care of Mahama

Adamu, Adam Otto, David Garvey, and me.

The departure of these persons from Kroto affected us greatly with increased pressure from the Krotolese officials for us to also leave.

PART THREE Resettlement in Caucasian Republic Asylum, Education, and Work

1 The Journey to Caucasian Republic

1. Leaving Kroto

One day, I was at home when I had an invitation to come for a call at the UNHCR’s office.

I got to the office on time to receive the call. Before the phone was handed to me, the secretary informed me that it was my friend John Iliasu Ibrahim calling from Linber.

John Iliasu Ibrahim had arrived in Luameh with physical damages to his body and needed medical attention and had earlier on been flown to Caucasian Republic as a result.

While he was in Caucasian Republic, he had interview sessions with the asylum authorities and amnesty officials in Linber.

It was during one of the interviews that he seized the opportunity to inform them about the failed coup attempt in Kroto and the impact it was going to have on me.

Believing that I was indeed alive, the Amnesty International (AI) decided to get me over to Caucasian Republic but with Iliasu Ibrahim’s help.

So when I spoke to Iliasu Ibrahim and briefed him on the situation in Luameh, he broke the news to me and asked whether I would love to come to Caucasian Republic on the basis of that arrangement. I agreed.

About a week or two later, the Amnesty International sent Capt (Rtd) Giffens Kwebuko and Capt (Rtd) Bill Yatsuha to Luameh to gather more facts about the failed coup attempt and the plight of Western African Republicans in Luameh as well as to expedite the process to get me over to Caucasian Republic.

Just about the same time, my sister-in-law, Mary Dadiesu, who was based in Silver Spring, Maryland and married to the first secretary of the Western African Republic Ambassador in Washington DC, sent me a KLM return ticket to New York. She was visiting us in Luameh before departing finally to the States.

With her, I had had some conversations and had requested help from her, but when her ticket finally arrived, I was deeply involved with the offer from the Amnesty International. I decided to accept the AI offer because I was more convinced of going through with them than flying all alone to New York.

In November, my travelling documents were ready, so L/l Mabel Twalu, Sgt Dzolanani Roberts, and I embarked on a journey to Odera.

Sgt Dzolanani’s job was to supervise our journey to Caucasian Republic. In spite of delays and serious challenges, he managed to do his work successfully.

I took the KLM ticket with me on our journey to Soglu.

In Soglu, Mabel and I lodged at Mullard Hotel Restaurant at a suburb called Zualanyi. I was in room 237, and Mabel was in room 235.

While waiting for our departing documents to be processed and tickets bought, I came into with l Mark Afutsevi and . R. S. Biliwa, and they took me to their house where I then visited most of the time.

Things did not go smoothly until shortly before Christmas. I could not fly with a ‘sauf conduit’, which was one of the reasons for the delay, so a Western African Republican port was quickly made for me, and a Caucasia Republican visa was also bought on the black market in Soglu. I did not go to any embassy and did not know where any embassy was in Soglu.

Finally, on Christmas day, I was smuggled into a plane of the World Belgian Airlines that was flying Soglu-Brussels-Etinorf.

In the very early hours of 26 December 1987, Mabel and I arrived in Etinorf on a Belgian flight (World Belgian Airlines) from Soglu through Brussels.

It was very cold that morning, and I was thinly dressed as though on a summer trip to the Caribbean.

We were told it was one of the coldest winters in the past twenty or so years.

As arranged, Captain Giffens Kwebuko received us at the airport, and together we took a taxi to his residence at the Konkordia Strasse in Etinorf .

He introduced us to his wife, Wadia Christy, and their two kids, Abed and Mariam, as well as his sister, Mavis.

2. Political Asylum in Caucasian Republic

It was no resting time for us at all. We had breakfast together with the Kwebukos and had a very long conversation after that.

Capt Kwebuko insisted that it was time to start writing our applications for political asylum.

He wanted it completed the same day before going to bed, so we started working on them right away.

With a lot of patience, the captain reviewed my application several times and corrected the sentences and the phraseology for me to revise them.

My English language was not quite strong.

At the end of the day, our individual applications were ready, and Captain Kwebuko was satisfied with them.

That same evening the head of Northern Eastfalia’s AI, Mrs Edwards visited us at Kwebuko’s place to welcome us officially to Caucasian Republic.

She also read our applications and gave us the green light to go ahead and present ourselves to the authorities the following morning.

Thinking, on our part, that with the involvement of the AI all was going to be a done deal, she warned us against euphoria and explained that though she had no doubt that we would win and be granted political asylum in the long run, it was not going to be an easy battle at all.

She attached a cover letter to our applications that made the applications very attractive.

On 27 December, we drove to the Foreigners Office at the Old City together with Mrs Kwebuko and formally applied for political asylum.

The authorities were very friendly to us, and I guess it was because of the cover letter from the Amnesty International.

As opposed to the hundreds and thousands of applications they received from fake asylum seekers on daily basis, with the cover letter, the authorities should simply understand and appreciate that they were dealing with applicants with an

interesting case.

And so it was that the senior officer-in-charge of the Etinorf office, Mr Landdo, engaged us in a brief conversation to understand the current political and economic climate in Western African Republic.

I telling him that as long as Avuh remained in power, nothing good could be expected. I also referring him to a newspaper publication depicting a very dark economic reality in Western African Republic, but Mrs Kwebuko was very quick to play down the economic issue I had touched on. She explained later that she did not want us to create impressions that we had come to Caucasian Republic for economic reasons.

The authorities took port-sized pictures of us and issued us with six months non-working permit visas each and explained that they were only responsible for the processing of our applications and resident permits.

They informed us of our rights vis-á-vis entitlements to social welfare benefits: health, accommodation, clothing, monthly allowance, etc.

And they then placed a ban on us, in accordance with law, not to travel out of the Etinorf area without previously obtaining permission from the foreigners authorities.

But at that stage, Mrs Kwebuko was around, so we knew we were in safe hands.

As to what happened next, with our applications, they explained that we would be invited for an interview in which we would be given the chance to present our individual cases and defend them as well.

The Social Welfare Office was on the Friedrich Street 61 at Etinorf-Addington which was a bit far from the Old City, so we decided to go there later.

The most important thing was the applications and the resident permits, we concluded.

Later in the day, Stephen Awali, an ex-soldier and a former driver to the Border Guard Commander, visited the Kwebukos. He was asked to take us through the registration process at the Social Welfare Office.

The next morning, as previously agreed on between us, we took the street train to the Etinorf Main Train Station and met him. Together, we ed a bus to the Sozialamt.

That day, I was given 224.00 Caucasian Dollars as my subsistence allowance for the month of January and a single room on the Iron Street 49, which was behind the main train station.

The money was meant for feeding only, as accommodation was free, and I was also to receive seasonal money for clothing, etc.

Stephen Awali also took us to the Red Cross to look for second hand clothes, but

we did not find anything suitable.

It was ice cold, and the best jackets and pants had all been taken away. The ones that were there were like clothes for Eskimos, so we decided to go without them.

Mabel Twalu was also given a place on the Blisker Laine One, which was about twenty minutes away from the Old City.

By the end of the first week in January 1987, we had been accommodated and given money. We were steadily integrating into the system.

Iron Street 49 was no good name in Etinorf. It was like a concentration camp for asylum seekers, and it was considered a very dangerous place!

The building was a hot spot for all kinds of drug trafficking, prostitution, criminal activities, and a permanent target for police raids.

The place was considered so dangerous that at some point, women were no longer permitted entry.

In that house, I was first given room 309, which was next to the main bath house and the toilet facility on the third floor.

Every day, I saw blood on the main corridor and in the bath house, and I found it extremely difficult to use the whole facility. Both the bathhouse and toilet were

never in good condition.

It was either that the windows were deliberately broken, and it was cold, or the whole place was just unpleasant for normal human use.

Cleaners came to clean, but by the time they finished their work, the place became worse than it was before the cleaning began.

My neighbours destroyed all bulbs on the floor, destroyed kitchen cables, broke glass windows, and soiled the walls and tiles and floor with blood and human excreta.

So who were my neighbours, and why did they keep the place the way it was?

Why was I here, how long would I be here, and was it the same everywhere? I sadly wondered and questioned no one but myself.

My neighbours were wee smokers and criminals mainly from Lubia and Zingal.

Almost all of them had knives, and some of them had pistols with live ammunition in them.

They called themselves Rastafarians who had come to Babylon to supervise its destruction, and very amazingly, they had whites (Caucasian Republicans and other Europeans both men and women) ing them in their ‘supervise the

destruction of Babylon campaign’.

To these Rastafarian economic refugees, what I saw and experienced at the Iron Street was simply the process of burning down Babylon.

They held the common belief that resorting to their unfortunate deeds in a human environment at the Iron Street, where they themselves lived, was simply a biblical prophecy being fulfilled.

There was this prominent refugee called Niatse Zuluta who was also on the same floor with us. Niatse Zuluta said he was a bodyguard to President Idi Amin of Uganda. He was already a recognized refugee, but because he could not integrate into the system, the authorities decided to house him in the asylum community on the Iron Street.

Zuluta was very aggressive and violent. One early dawn, before those Rastafarians returned from the night clubs, Zuluta carried a broken television set from his room on the fourth floor to the staircase and dropped it.

The television fell thunderously with a very loud noise breaking into pieces on the first floor. The noise was so loud that it sent sleeping tenants waking up and running out of their rooms as though a bomb had detonated in the building.

He did that because, according to him, the television did not behave well when he needed it the most.

I saw a few Western African Republicans on the same floor. One of them was called Evans Comaway whose asylum name was Atonas Uluson. The other Western African Republican was known as and called Fela-Fela and three others who were also from Western African Republic.

Fela-Fela was the only Western African Republican who had a gun on the third floor!

The Western African Republican community did not engage in the ‘destroy Babylon’ campaign.

Atonas Uluson became my friend.

News about our arrival had broken out to the Western African Republican public in Etinorf and unknown to us, the ex-soldiers had arranged a welcome party for the two of us.

The party took place at Capt Kwebuko’s place that weekend. It had the participation of almost all the former Western African Republican soldiers and policemen in Etinorf but mainly by:

1. Corporal George Asemna, an ex-Teen from the Fifth Battalion, Ceylon Camp, Nkran and a former bodyguard to Capt Gates Moore, 2. Staff Sergeant Quandah-Hill, an ex-Teen from Base Ordnance Depot, 3. Lance Corporal Stephen Awali, driver, Western African Republic Border Guards,

4. Corporal Siddique, cook, Fifth Battalion, and 5. Police Corporal Phillip Zakonis, Unique Service. (Phillip Zakonis worked under my dad while serving with the Unique Service, so he knew me when I was a little boy at Babioshi at the Obidonu Junction, Nkran.)

That weekend, my friend, Francis Iliasu Ibrahim, arrived from Linber, so together with him and Captain Kwebuko, we drove in a taxi to pick Captain Bill Yatsuha (who was a member of the 4 June BFC government) from the Flughaven (airport).

That same day, Captain Peanuts Anderland ed us from Amsterdam. Captain Anderland was one of the education officers at the Fifth Battalion, but he was with us in Luameh. All of us belonged to the same camp.

In Luameh, he was in the same house with Major Bella Nasiru and Major Salifu Jibril.

The party was great. We had fun. I was very grateful to the party organisers and remain so.

2.1 Social Work

The following week, Stephen Awali invited me to the Kiefernstraße where he first introduced me to his wife, and then later in the day, we visited the exsoldiers who were also living on the Kiefernstraße.

I noticed that anyone we visited was particularly focused on work and making money, so the first question they all asked was, ‘Have you found something doing?’

While the majority believed that it would not be long for me to be recognized as a political refugee, others, including Corporal George Asemna, insisted that it was high time I found a job.

During those days, asylum seekers did not have working permits but were permitted to do social work for a maximum of 1.50 Caucasian Dollars an hour.

But that was not the kind of work that the refugees wanted to do. They wanted to work and earn enough money.

They wanted more money for a host of reasons: contract marriage, assist their families and/or relatives back home, buy cars for taxis back home, build houses back home, etc.

And there were those who also wanted to generate some income so as to continue their journeys to other destinations within Europe or to the USA or Canada.

Among the Western African Republican community, there were those who had succeeded in marrying Caucasian Republicans and were entitled to stay and work in the country. The Western African Republicans called them ‘Otwa Correct’—a Bonu-English slang which literally means one who cuts clean (one with a resident permit).

So those of us who were just starting or had not yet found our feet were referred to as ‘Asala’.

And so it was that the ‘Otwa Correct’s’ were trading with their working permits.

They would either find you work or give you a photocopy of their port, details of their bank , and then copies of their working permit.

And once you started working and earning a salary, 60 per cent of your income belonged to them, and the remainder was yours.

It was my understanding that, in most instances, the ‘Asala’s’ did not receive a cent from their ‘Otwa Corrects’, and for fear of being arrested and deported, they managed to live with their pain.

I opted for the 1.50 CD Social Welfare for two reasons:

1. I did not want to come into conflict with the laws of the country because it would obviously have adverse effects on my application for political asylum in the country. 2. I was too proud to work as a slave to the ‘Otwa Correct’s’.

I had my first job with the municipal authorities (Stadtburo 38, Amen Street 49) as a street cleaner and started work on 5 May 1988, but because the weather was

too cold, I gave it up the second day and found a better one at the Garshondi University as a kitchen helper in their Canteen. I remained there from 7 May to 27 July 1984.

It was good because I had a free breakfast and lunch over there, and I managed to save my subsistence allowance and part of my salary.

Working Card

That way, I was able to send money to my wife and son in Kroto for their upkeep.

2.2 Interview at the Federal Ministry for the Recognition of Asylum Seekers in Allengrade

Mabel and I received invitations for an interview in March from a lawyer working as a Federal Officer at the Ministry called Joseff Hendoff.

As usual, we prepared ourselves and rehearsed well. I Capt Kwebuko visited me before the interview and discussed my readiness for it. He suggested that I should not always be in a hurry to answer questions, and that if I was not sure of an answer, I should insist that I did not understand the question until the trick and trap in the question was reduced.

A few days before our departure to Allengrade, Mrs Edwards also met the two of us and went through the applications with us once again.

On the day of the interview, I arrived on time. Mabel had been interviewed the previous day.

When it was my turn, a gentleman, an African, came for me from a waiting room behind the reception. He explained that he was the official translator at the federal office, so he had been invited to translate the interview.

I noticed from his accent that he was a Fonu, a Mybro—a Western African Republican. I became alarmed instantly. While walking to the room with him, all I could was ‘Mybro’. Mybro is a Fonu slang meaning ‘my brother’. That was how the NCDP killers called each other, so it reminded me of safety and security.

By the time we were all set for the interview and Joseff Hendoff was done with the introductions, I was ready with a plan. I told Mr Hendoff that I was not going to answer any question until he had arranged for a non-Western African Republican translator for the interview.

I explained that there were friends in custody. They included Adonis Pamha, Bedford Ladzi, and others. I stated that I was not going to discuss anything with him until my demands were met. I also asked to be deported if my demands were refused.

After that, I noticed some form of shock on their faces, and immediately, Mr Hendoff dictated my demands on the voice recorder and humbly asked me to calm down.

He personally got up and walked with me to an empty room next door and offered me some coffee and biscuits and asked me to wait till they had arranged for someone to do the translation. Before leaving, I explained further that we had had to deal with the issue of spies and informants for a very long time in Kroto, so I was just being careful and wise.

About thirty-five minutes later Mr Hendoff came for me and introduced a beautiful white lady as the new translator and asked whether I felt all right with

her. I consented.

The interview then started, and it took almost the whole day to complete. At closing time, all others had left the building.

Before I left the office, Mr Hendoff explained that there were other aspects of the interview that required additional hearing, so he would invite me for a second interview in a short possible time.

He also assured me of his conviction that I was a genuine political asylum seeker. That was good news to me and a big relief, knowing very well that, at least, I needed them to believe my story.

About four weeks later, the two of us were invited for the second interview, again, by Mr Joseff Hendoff, and after going through the same process of the interview,he sent us his Statement of Recognition and gave another Ministry called ‘Ministry of Asylum Seekers’ a period of one month to accept or reject our Status of Recognition.

That same year, Joseff ed me, and we became friends, and he visited me and brought me a book ‘The Testimony of Steve Biko—Cry Freedom’ on 16 July 1989. This book is still with me.

Three weeks after the recognition, the Ministry of Asylum Seekers rejected it, arguing that in our own words, we explained that we were safe in Kroto, so we should be repatriated to either Kroto or Odera from where we came.

At that stage, the Amnesty International got involved and gave us a Etinorfbased lawyer called Dorah Irkmann who appealed against the Ministry of Asylum Seekers’ reasons for rejecting our status of recognition at the istrative Court of Etinorf.

Months later in 1989, all of us appeared for a hearing, including the Ministry of Asylum Seekers, at the court, and the judges agreed, after hours of deliberations, that we could not have been safe in Kroto and agreed with the decision of the Federal Ministry to grant us political asylum in the Caucasian Republic.

After this final recognition, I remained in Caucasian Republic until 2001 when President Longgie took over from President Avuh.

For me, going to Western African Republic meant politically-motivated persecutions, torture, and detention without trial or even death.

President Longgie later granted us amnesty, and that made it possible for me to return to Western African Republic.

3. Exile Community—Initial Integration

By the end of the month, I had started getting used to the system.

I visited the night clubs, the discotheques, the libraries, and I also used the transportation system (trains, hanging and underground trains, trams, taxis, and the buses) several times.

One day, I went to a disco called ‘Soul Centre’ with Captain Kwebuko, Captain Bongo Smith, and John Iliasu Ibrahim. That day, Capt Kwebuko gave me a leather jacket to wear because it was very cold outside. Very unfortunately, the jacket was stolen while we were dancing. It was hung in a wardrobe in the disco. That was my first negative experience in a night club.

The old-timers around explained that it could only have been stolen by our own black people because, in their opinion, such things hardly happened in white discos. It was a statement that proved to be true several years later in Etinorf in an incident involving Sarah.

I she was making a phone call in a telephone booth when she saw a bus she had been waiting for approach the bus stop. Fearing that she might miss it and be late to work, she ran from the booth and rushed into the bus. She realized during her journey that she had left her wallet in the booth.

It was at the beginning of the month, and she had received her salary, so all her money, ID card, and valuable documents were in the wallet. Three days later, we received a post card asking her to call a certain Mathias for her wallet.

We did and arranged a meeting. The gentleman (a Caucasian Republic) showed up. Convinced that Sarah was the true owner of the wallet, he gave it to her. When we counted the money and checked the documents, they were all intact.

Apart from the mess at the Iron Street, I was beginning to like Etinorf.

I noticed that making s with blacks was more complicated than it was with whites.

Out of ten blacks that I greeted, only one responded. Some of those who looked away did so as though we were natural enemies, so I wondered what might be the reason for their behaviour. After all, we were in the minority, so why not be nice to each other, at least?

4. Another Coup was in the Making—The Last One

In March 1987, Capt Kwebuko and I became close friends, and we met several times in a week.

I recall he was working for Encyclopaedia Britannica as a Sales Consultant. He sold their books for a commission.

One day, I bought one of the Red Regency series (thirty-two volumes) at a price of 4,600 CD on high purchase from him. He gave me sixteen volumes of Children’s Britannica, three volumes of Webster’s Dictionary, and a Holy Bible as a gift from the company for buying their books.

In one of our meetings, he informed me about a plan to overthrow the NCDP. The plan was for us to fly from Etinorf to Abdden to meet some of our friends and then enter Western African Republic for the attack from there.

When time was up for us to move to Abdden, he arranged and hired a Western

African Republican port from a certain Wusiah for me. I knew Wusiah, personally.

In addition to the port, he gave me 1,400 CD as pocket money. That day, I was with him at his residence in Etinorf on the Concordiastrasse. His wife, Wadia Christy, was also there.

After dinner, Wadia called me to the kitchen and advised me to take good care of Kwebuko for her.

In that plot, I knew that Capt Bill Yatsuha was part!

A week prior to take off from Etinorf, I changed my mind and decided to withdraw from the plot.

I went to Kwebuko and gave him the port. He collected it all right with a big sign of disappointment but refused to take the 1,400 CD that he had given to me as pocket money.

Kwebuko took off all right in April and left for Abdden but returned after about three or four weeks later.

In his absence, I was still friends with the family, so I visited Wadia occasionally to check on her and the kids.

A few weeks after Kwebuko had returned from Abdden, I visited Wadia at the farm house at the main train station where she was working at the time.

From that day, I knew the friendship had become toxic. Wadia demanded the 1,400 CD from me and asked me to pay it or face trouble.

I had already used the money, so I was in a very tight corner. I kept playing hide and seek with her until my wife arrived with my son in September. That was when we started paying the ‘debt’.

When my wife arrived, she found a cleaning job and also managed to run a hairdressing business at home. The pressure of having to send money home to her in Kroto then ceased.

With the little that we had from the social welfare and the odd jobs here and there, we managed to settle the debt with Wadia.

5. Family Reunion

By May the same year, I had managed to save some money for Sarah and Cliff that was apart from monthly money transfers for their upkeep in Kroto.

The money was not enough, and because I had managed to come along with the KLM ticket, I decided to cash the money involved so that Sarah and Cliff could me in Caucasian Republic.

It was an action which, understandably, did not go down well with Mrs Mary Dadiesu.

Capt Nugbagba and others went to Sarah during my absence and threw her out of the house, so she first moved to Nicholas Addo and stayed at his place for a week and then moved to a pastor friend of mine, Pastor Watum, and stayed with his family till the two of them ed me in Caucasian Republic on 7 September 1988.

Again, I ed Sgt Dzolanani for help. I wanted him to assist Sarah and Cliff to me. He agreed, so in September, he arranged for them to fly together with Police l Godlove Blagoji from the Luameh Slahah International Airport, through Brussels, again, to Etinorf.

When they arrived, I was still living in my single room at the Iron Street 49, so they were accommodated in a hotel until I was given a family room on the Hays Street 51 in a suburb of Etinorf called Jertham. That was where we lived until I was finally recognized as a political refugee by the courts.

After the recognition, we moved to the Hays Street 21 at Etinorf-Addington where our landlord was Mr Spears, a carpenter. Getting that apartment to rent was not easy. I Frau Dorah Irkmann gave us a letter to be given to any potential landlord, and it worked with Familie Spears.

On 16 February 1994 we had our beautiful daughter, Rebecca Wilberforce. She was delivered at the Etinorf-Bilk.

Again, because the family size had increased, we moved to the Bertrand Street at Etinorf -Western in 1996 and remained there till 2001.

We moved into a semi-detached house on the countryside Bradville for obvious reasons: Etinorf was increasingly becoming very expensive and affordable housing areas for lower income status workers were also becoming attractive areas for Eastern Europeans who were noted for drugs, prostitution, and gun and knife crimes, etc.

We did not want to raise our dear children in such an environment.

At Bradville, we decided to build our own house, so we acquired a parcel of land (five hundred square metres in size), obtained a building permit, and built one of the most beautiful countryside houses in a small town called Belsped.

It took us about seven months to build the house and moved into our own house in September 2005.

We remained in that house until 2013 and sold it to a Caucasia Republican because plans were rife for us to return to our homeland Western African Republic. Before the house was sold, it was only Sarah who lived in it.

She was alone in the house because all of us had moved out. Cliff was living in a town called Hardenton, and Rebecca was also in a town called Centinale. The three towns were not far from each other. The three of them were about thirtyfive kilometres away from each other in the same region, Northern Eastfalia.

So I was the only one who was actually living very far away from them. I was in the northern countryside city of Hustenden working for the Kentigen Group.

***

Apart from Sarah and Cliff, I bought a ticket for Mr Geraldo Peters who was a civilian paramilitary living with us in the same camp in Luameh. Months prior to my departure, he had become very close to me and my family and was always honest with us.

The first person on mind to help was my exile brother Mahama Adamu, but when I offered to buy him a ticket to come over, he came up with conditions that I could not meet. He wanted me to buy the ticket for him, his wife, and his daughter because he was not prepared to leave without them. When I explained that I did not have enough money for the three of them at that moment, he declined my offer.

It was after he had declined the offer that I considered Geraldo Peters, So eventually, Peters came on my ticket to Caucasian Republic and was transferred to a city called Carrendan where he lived and died some years later.

***

Barish is the twin brother of Sarah. He was going through a host of challenges in Western African Republic. The issues were just unbearable for Sarah—they were quite worrying and disturbing that they gave her sleepless nights.

So I decided to assist her in getting her brother over. We arranged with a Caucasia Republican lady friend of mine called Petra Eisenberg to send him an invitation, which she did.

Finally, Barish also came, lived with us for a while in Etinorf, and relocated to Zlenn where he lives as a renegade.

***

One day during the reign of President Longgie, I visited my mom-in-law at Glidzi, a suburb of Nkran, and I saw Agnes for the first time.

Maa explained that she was at the University and would complete soon, but her future as a young woman was not certain. She also explained that since the death of their father, life had not been all that easy for any in the family.

So I thought of what I could do to help her. The only thing that occupied my mind after the discussion was for her to further her education.

On my return to Caucasian Republic, I discussed it with her stepsister, Mabel Danskunor, who encouraged me to go ahead and help her. Mabel was based in London. I also discussed it with Sarah and she agreed.

The following year, as I was preparing for a visit to Western African Republic, Mabel sent Agnes’s details to me. She had already discussed it with her, and she had also shown interest.

So we met in Nkran, had a meeting with her and her younger sister (Nama), and then we took it off from there. Finally, after about a year or so, I purchased a Flight Ticket for her to come and study in Caucasian Republic.

She ed us and furthered her education, completed with a PhD in Molecular Biology, and she’s now a lecturer at the University of Western African Republic, Glemeh.

***

Lionel was a paramilitary activist in a unit popularly referred to, during the NCDP regime, as ‘Commandos’. They were recruited, given some basic military training at Tifi Enya in the Nkran Region of Western African Republic and then flown to Havana in Chedo where they were trained for another six months and returned to Western African Republic to protect only the NCDP Regime.

Joseph was a retired Flt Lt with the Air Force and was working as sales manager for Yellowcab, a company that imported and sold Hyundai cars in the late ’80s.

When I settled in Caucasian Republic, I decided to help my siblings, knowing how life was like for them. I also knew about the dangers with which Lionel had to live, on daily basis.

So I first ed my dad in writing and discussed my intentions with him. He wrote back and suggested that I should start with Edward, etc.

I ed Edward to discuss my intentions and plans. I suggested that my plan was to bring him to Caucasian Republic to me so that with the two of us, it would be much easier to bring Joseph over. In turn, with the three of us, it would be still easier to bring Lionel over, etc. On his part, he rather suggested conclusively that I should start with Joseph.

Upon his suggestion, I wrote to Joseph who agreed and said he was ever ready to embark on the journey.

So Sarah and I discussed the idea with my mother-in-law, Aunty Gladys, to solicit help from her. She also agreed, and we embarked on the process.

During that time, a Flt Lt and a friend of Joseph known as Gifford Galona and the late Major Manuel Gameli had been arrested and accused of plotting to topple the NCDP, so we decided that it would be better to mobilize funds to airlift both Joseph and Lionel at the same time. By so doing, we agreed that it would avoid bringing either of the two of them in any form of danger.

The two of them were not involved in anything and had absolutely nothing to do with the arrests, but we concluded that it was not safe for them to remain in the system.

Based on experience, we argued that when a close friend is arrested by the NCDP you automatically become a suspect. And because Joseph was a personal friend to Flt Lt Galona, we were concerned about his personal safety.

And since Joseph could easily become a suspect because of his relationship with Galona, we were wondering whether the NCDP would not revisit the case involving me and consider Lionel for a possible arrest as well, should Joseph disappear from the country?

So Aunty Gladys reached out to the two of them to discuss the issue further.

While arrangements were under way in Nkran, I ed Nicholas Addo in Luameh to seek help from him. I wanted him to accommodate them when they arrived in Luameh, and he agreed without hesitation.

I then decided to also the late l R. S. Biliwa, who shuttled between Luameh and Soglu at that time, to seek help from him. I wanted him to arrange for a fake Caucasia Republican visa for the two of them, and he also agreed to do so.

When everything was set, I decided to inform Edward and my mother who, I understood, had also returned from Soglu to Nkran for good and whom I had not seen since age 7.

At that time, my dad had already ed away, and I was really bent on honouring my promise to help the whole family.

When all was almost set, I calculated the costs involved. At that time, I was in school, so I managed to take a loan from the Citibank of Etinorf to help airlift them as intended. I taking a loan of fifteen thousand Caucasian Dollars for that purpose—a loan I kept paying back till 2004.

I flew to Luameh and was hosted by Nicholas Addo for the entire duration of my stay. At Nicholas Addo’s Kakali place, we arranged and got the entire family over to Luameh.

We firstly saw the arrival of Aunty Gladys and Edith Nikoi, the younger sister of Sarah and her little son Haku, but Aunty Gladys did not stay for long.

And then we received my brothers, Joseph and Lionel, and then Edward and my mom. My mom’s arrival was extremely emotional because the last time I saw her, I was in class two at Babioshi, Nkran.

After their arrival, we started working on their ports and visas because our initial plan was to get all set and travel together.

l R. S. Biliwa had calculated the costs involved and had taken the money to Soglu, but after about one month of no show, I had to return to Caucasian Republic alone.

Again, my sincere gratitude to Nicholas Addo and Deborah, his wife at that time, who continued with the hosting of Lionel and Joseph after all of us had left Luameh.

After months of waiting for R. S. Biliwa to return with the ports and visas, it turned out to be that he had actually run away with all the money, meaning that we were only left with two desperate and frustrated brothers with no dime in Kroto.

It is, therefore, true that tough situations do not actually last but only tough people do. Sarah and I started working around the clock to raise more funds for their upkeep in Luameh and also for renewed efforts at getting them over to Caucasian Republic. We had vowed that we were not going to abandon them in Kroto.

Again, we managed to put some money together and got Joseph over. He was very sick at the time, so eventually, his condition became a matter of urgency.

I had already supervised his application for asylum in Luameh and a copy of it was with me in Caucasian Republic. The Amnesty International had seen it, and a copy of it was with them and another copy was also with my lawyer Mrs Dorah Irkmann.

Dorah Irkmann had prepared a warrant of attorney for Joseph to sign. It was a document indicating that Joseph had already engaged her as his lawyer in his political asylum process in Caucasian Republic, in case of any eventuality at the immigration. I had arranged for him to arrive at Etinorf airport and had alerted all stakeholders.

Joseph took off from the Slahah International Airport in Luameh and arrived at the Etinorf airport but was not successful at the immigration. I was at the immigration and saw him being talked to by two officers while escorting him to an office.

At that stage, I called Mrs Edwards, the AI boss, and Dorah Irkmann and informed them about what I had seen.

Around the clock, they started working to get him out. Within a matter of minutes, the immigration officials had put him in a return flight to Brussels with the intention of deporting him to Kroto.

So Mrs Edwards and Dorah Irkmann assured me that he would surely be given the chance to seek asylum in Europe.

Mrs Edwards made phone calls to Brussels and spoke to the AI boss who also assured her that she would get Joseph out of the immigration area. After two hours of Joseph’s arrival in Brussels, the AI called me from Brussels and asked me to talk to Joseph and assured me that my brother was safe. It was at this stage that we all breathed a sigh of real relief at home.

The following day, Dorah Irkmann took the Etinorf Immigration to court for refusing Joseph’s entry to Caucasian Republic although he was legally applying for political asylum and mentioned me as principal witness. She was also praying the court to grant a safe age for Joseph to return to Etinorf because it was in Caucasian Republic that he actually wanted to seek his asylum and not in Belgium.

At that time of going to the court in Caucasian Republic, Joseph had not yet submitted his application to the Belgian officials, but the court had to turn down the application, finally, because at the time of the hearing, Joseph had also submitted his application to the Belgian authorities.

A week later, Marcus Helfer, from the AI office in Zlenn, picked us (Sarah and me) up in his car, and we drove to Belgium to meet Joseph. We drove to Aalst to a military hospital where he was being treated for severe Pancreas dysfunction,

an attack on his health that would consequently kill him several years later at Helmond, Holland.

With the involvement of the Caucasia Republican AI, the Belgian AI was very helpful to him. They introduced him to the Holden family, whose daughter, Jenny, a nurse at that time, decided to help Joseph further.

We paid regular visits to him and assisted him in his stay and integration process from Oostende to Roeselare, to Brugge, and then finally to Helmond in Holland where he stayed and worked for Philips as their manager for Patent istration until he ed away and was buried right there.

Lionel remained in Luameh for a very long time until I brought him to Belgium.

One day, I discussed Lionel’s issue with l Redding Rudders at his residence in Weddling in Caucasian Republic, and together we made a phone call to a civilian friend of his (Wusiah), who was also with us in Luameh but had become a business man in Western African Republic.

We agreed that Lionel should use my refugee port since it required no visa to Caucasian Republic, and because Lionel could not speak Caucasia Republican, he should fly to Brussels instead.

So I sent the port to Owusie, and in less than two weeks, he put Lionel on a flight to Brussels. We had arranged that Lionel would have to leave the transit area to meet me outside at the arrival hall, and I would continue the journey with him to Etinorf by road.

But when he arrived, things did not go as planned, and he was arrested.

He knew what to do, so he also gave the officials his application for political asylum right there at the airport.

Again, I informed Dorah Irkmann and Mrs Edwards about the failed attempt to get him to Etinorf.

The following day, Dorah Irkmann filed an appeal in a statement called ‘voluntary disclosure’ with the authorities explaining what I did with my port and the reasons behind it.

This was while the two of them (Mrs Edwards and Irkmann) were busy engaging the Brussels AI to assist Lionel with his political asylum application.

The istrative court accepted the reasons and forgave me for what I did but gave me a warning not to do that again.

2 Education and Work in Caucasian Republic

1. Taking an Option

After I had officially been recognized and granted political asylum status in Caucasian Republic, I decided to go to school.

Strangely, my resolution to go to school did not go down well with a lot of people, including friends and even some family .

They argued that, as a black man, schooling was not going to take me anywhere in Caucasian Republic. Their criticisms and objections were so heavy that it shook the foundation of trust and commitment I had taken my time, over the years, to build in my own home.

They said, ‘A typical Nkran man indeed. They are lazy, and they don’t want to work.’

But I stood my grounds and had massive and encouragement from Mr Gerrad Lardu, Mr Danny Gariba (an Etinorf-based former Western African Republic Heavy Weight Boxing Champion), and another Etinorf-based medical doctor, Dr Rowland Freeburg. Dr Freeburg himself is an Egeh from Nkran and had come to Leipzig in Caucasian Republic to study on scholarship when Dr Kantawe Osagidimajor was President of Western African Republic.

Gerrad gave me a book ‘The Fourth Protocol’ by Forsyth to read. This book is still with me.

So with the help and sponsorship of the Ministry of Labour, I started by ing with the Dr Donovan Langleys Language School, and I learned Caucasia Republican as a foreign language for ten months.

Getting the Labour Ministry to pay for my language course was a tug of war. It took the timely intervention of courageous and brave Selina Crabbe (then a student studying Psychology at the University of Freden, working for the Amnesty International and now a self-employed psychologist at Huddington, Caucasian Republic) to get me sponsored.

I moved on into a Professional Orientation Programme in Economics and istration at the same language school called ‘BiLa’ for a year.

This course was necessary because the Labour Ministry wanted to figure out whether I was someone they could invest in.

I had decided that I wanted to attend a commercial school to learn business subjects, but the Labour Ministry was wondering whether I could make it. I was about 24, married and with a son, and a middle-school leaver. Besides, I was going to sit in the classroom with ‘inexperienced’ children between the ages of 15 and 18.

It was not a challenge for them to sponsor someone like me. On the contrary, it

was a huge psychological and mental challenge for me.

Not only was I a black man; I would be older than all my classmates when classes started. Not only was I an ex-soldier; I was involved in a plot to overthrow a government of Western African Republic. I had become a wanted man in my country of origin. I was married, and I had a child.

My Caucasia Republican language was not sufficient, and as opposed to my classmates-to-be, my knowledge of the business subjects was as good as zero. They would have had, at least, a considerable amount of schooling in business subjects!

Despite all of these, I was more than determined to seize the opportunity to pursue education. I argued to family and friends that though it was not a bad idea to work as a labourer and start earning some peanuts, it was not a bad idea either to look for the money machine itself.

After all, I was going to be paid for going to school, anyway, I always argued!

The Labour Ministry accepted my application and put me on the one year course.

Before that, a professional labour consultant of the Labour Ministry had suggested that because my grades were not good enough, I should rather pursue a vocational course as an Industrial Mechanic, but I knew in my heart that I was not actually ready for anything like that. My dream was to sit in an office and work. I wanted a neat and a clean work. That was why my critics thought I was just but a dreamer.

I was bold and determined, so I did the one year course and ed well.

From the BiLa, I moved on to the Caucasian Academy for a two-year diploma course in Foreign Trade. After four years of working, I moved on to the Industrie und Handelskammer zu Etinorf—IHK (Chamber of Commerce, Etinorf) for a two-year advanced diploma in Foreign Trade.

I pursued the above course after working hours and on Saturdays.

2. The Journey to London

The first time that I travelled to London, I travelled by road with l Redding Rudders in the early ’90s.

We arranged to drive to Belgium to Oostende to Joseph’s place and leave our car with him and then continue by ferry from Oostende by Hoover Craft to Dover Western Docks and then by train to London.

In London, we were hosted by l Braimah Iddrisu, and we had the chance of visiting a number of people including l Noble Ayern, l Murtala, Frimpong of ABF, Sgt Nando-Alani, Niminado Dualah, and Ransford Artillery.

We also visited Christian Dauda Mati and Timothy Blogga.

And then later in the ’90s when Gerrad Lardu was living in Kent, he introduced me, during one of my visits, to Themes Apple, Kwensi Senchin, Banson Tevi, and his senior brother Dr Nesbitt Tevi.

At some point in time, Themes even hosted me and introduced me to Sunday Lalu, and together we attended a meeting where I came into with Edmund Young, Captain Bill Yatsuha, Major Gates Moore, and others.

Sunday Lalu also gave me a book ‘The Soviet School of Courage and Warcraft’ by M. Ruben to read. This book is still with me.

It was upon completion of the advanced diploma course that the Caucasian Academy introduced me to a programme designed by the Caucasia Republican Chamber of International Trade and their British counterpart in London in collaboration with the European College of Business and Management (ECBM, London), and the UEL, that provides easy access to brilliant business students across the length and breadth of western Europe to undertake an MBA programme in the UK.

I accepted the offer without delay and went through the process to study at the ECBM and the UEL.

In the first year, I studied for the Certificate in Management Studies (CMS) and then completed the second year at the ECBM with a Diploma in Management Studies (DMS).

Upon completion of the CMS and the DMS programmes, I was awarded the degree of Bachelor of Arts.

To qualify for the programme at the UEL, I needed a minimum of grade two (80 per cent) of grades from the DMS programme. I got it and moved on to the UEL to study the MBA International Management for one year. I ed well and graduated in 2004.

Working and schooling is no cold chop, but it pays off!

3. My Experience as a Student in Caucasian Republic

I experienced a similar situation of what Steve Biko was describing in a South African court in May 1976 when he was explaining how the black man feels as a student in a white dominated school.

Without Caucasia Republican there is basically nothing that any foreigner can do successfully in Caucasian Republic, on the whole.

Caucasia Republican is the only language that one has to use at school while in pursuit of any discipline when you are studying and Caucasia Republican is a second or third language to you. In recent times, though, some universities have started offering courses in English to attract brilliant students from other countries to study in Caucasian Republic.

You have probably had a ten-month language course or perhaps something less

than that, and you have got to grapple with the Caucasia Republican language to understand it well, and before you could conquer it, you must apply it to learn a profession and/or discipline at university.

As a result, you never quite catch everything that is in a book; you certainly understand the paragraph but are not quite adept at reproducing an argument that was in a particular book, precisely because of your failure to understand certain words in the book.

This makes you less articulate as a foreigner, generally, and this makes you more inward looking.

You feel things rather than say them, and this applies to English as well—much more to Caucasia Republican than to English.

Although you are living in Caucasian Republic, Caucasia Republican is completely foreign, and, therefore, foreigners find it difficult to move beyond a certain point in their comprehension of the language.

This scenario is rather unfortunate when you have to participate and/or contribute proactively in class.

When issues of contemporary nature are being discussed in class, Caucasia Republican students would say something that you as a foreigner experienced in your day-to-day life, but your powers of articulation are not as good as theirs.

You may be intelligent but not as articulate. You are forced into a subservient role of having to say yes to what they are saying, talking about what you have experienced, which they have not experienced, because you cannot express it so well.

This, in a sense, also inculcates in numerous foreign students a sense of inadequacy. You tend to think that it is not just a matter of language.

You tend to tie it up also with intelligence in a sense. You tend to feel that that guy is better equipped than you mentally.

4. Working in Caucasian Republic

After my two years vocational training, I signed my first professional letter of employment with the Habitat Group in Etinorf in October 1995 and started work in November 1995.

Habitat is a French company that was in the process of opening its first branch in Caucasian Republic, and I happened to become the first logistics team lead it ever employed in Caucasian Republic.

I was so excited and could not wait for the first of November to come for me to start work.

Rebecca was under 2, and Cliff was 7 at the time, so all of us drove in my Suzuki Alto car to the newly built Shakan Bladden (Etinorf’s most beautiful

shopping centre or mall).

With the help of Sarah, we bought some nice shirts and ties and even suits. We had concluded that I would have to dress business-like, from time to time.

I even went on stage to the New Life Fellowship Church to give a testimony about my newly found job.

Actually, it was when Pastor Barish Graddy (senior pastor of the church) heard my story that he encouraged me to give the testimony.

What happened was that I actually applied for a job with Habitat as a sales representative, but after the interview, it was Mr Mattheus Grafording, the then Store Manager, who offered me the position as their logistics team lead.

The question was: What and who in their (Habitat’s) opinion is a logistics team lead? Do all industries have the same definition of what and who a logistics team lead is? And was that what I really wanted to do?

It was my first official employment, and I was just going crazy about it.

Prior to getting the Habitat job, I had written about 320 applications and had had only four interviews, which did not lead to any job offer, so increasingly, I was becoming impatient and getting frustrated.

The frustration was so severe that I was actually prepared to accept any job offer.

I needed a job at all cost so that I could come out of joblessness or unemployment which was in itself a big hindrance for any potential employer.

On Tuesday, 1 November 1995, I reported for work, and I was dressed as though I was a bank manager. Everything on me was brand new—from shoe, socks, and to the tie on my neck and chest. I I had my favourite perfume on. It was the most expensive perfume I had at that time.

And because I was going to start work as a team lead, I had also gone to buy a new leather diary so I could take some notes with it.

Well, when I arrived at the main entrance, I met the Store Manager and the Warehouse Manager. As a matter of fact, I was shocked and dumbfounded. These guys were in jeans and T-shirts and wearing gloves.

Outside at the delivery and dispatch area was a forty-feet container, waiting to be offloaded with materials for the shop.

They looked at me and laughed and wondered whether I had actually come to work!

Edmund Balling, the Warehouse Manager, gave me a pair of gloves and asked me to them in the offloading.

With shock and great disappointment, I folded my sleeves, removed my tie, put them on a table in the warehouse, and started with the offloading.

For some funny reasons, I expected the situation to change before the close of the day, and this was because I was actually expecting an office work and not a loading and an offloading kind of warehouse work.

Six people were assigned to me, and my job was to lead them in the loading and offloading work including warehouse istration and in-house shop logistics (making sure products were always in their right quantities at their designated shelf-locations and tagging them with their right prices).

The work was dirty, and I would say it was 90 to 95 per cent carrying of dirty boxes everywhere.

Who do I share this experience with in my environment, apart from my family, knowing that everything about the black community was nothing but competition and boasting! I was not part of them, and I actually had no issues sharing my experience, but I simply did not have friends with whom I could sincerely share these experiences.

I completed my six months’ probation and received my letter of confirmation from the Store Manager, a month before the sixth month. But before the sixth month, I had already found a better job and a better pay with a Taiwanese company.

Hue Zhen introduced herself to me, in an interview at Beggun near Neuss, a neighbour city of Etinorf, as the Sales Manager of Freeworld Computer GmbH.

I had applied for the position of International Sales Assistant, in a response to their job postings in the Daily Post, a popular business cum political Northern Eastfalia News Paper, and had been invited for an interview.

After the introduction, Hue told me she had found some qualities in my CV, and after a discussion with Kun Tan Ban (the Managing Director), they decided to interview me for the role of Customs and Shipping Assistant instead of the one I had applied for.

At that moment I thought it was a trick, but she was quick to explain that the sales position had already been given to an applicant.

I needed to move on from Habitat, and I needed an office work in a foreign or international trade environment, so I became curious and agreed to discuss the position with Hue.

At the end of a third interview, Hue considered me for the role and gave it to me.

I moved to Freeworld on 1 May 1996, and all of us relocated to their newly rented premises at Leden-Tinkler in the district of Zhett, and it was Uwe Arndt who was given the role of the International Sales Assistant.

Freeworld is a company that manufactures Computer Hardware in Taiwan and Thailand and exports them to the Western countries.

So my role in the foreign trades department (import, export, Warehousing, logistics, supply chain, etc.) helped me a lot in shaping and developing me for my professional future.

I remained and worked with Freeworld till April 2002 and resigned because of my desire to move on academically and professionally.

After pausing for a while with maximum focus and concentration on my university studies, I decided that it was high time, again, to start earning some good money.

On 1 July 2003, I met Dr Rutford Kelling for the fourth time at Clentung after three successful interviews at Sauf-Aberden.

The first interview was with Dr Rutford Kelling and Gerhard Sauerkraut.

Hershtung was the Finance Manager of WAMETECH Precision Instruments GmbH, Sauf-Aberden, and Rutford was the Managing Director of ParkinsPalmers GmbH, Clentung.

ParkinsPalmers was in the process of melting into what was going to become WAMETECH GmbH.

So in the capacity as the Order Processing Manager, I started work with Rutford at Clentung, and again, as with the Freeworld Computer GmbH, we relocated, after one month of working with them at Clentung, to Sauf-Aberden.

During the one-month period, ParkinsPalmers paid for my hotel accommodation.

The two companies are American companies, and WAMETECH is from Oak Ridge, Tennessee.

Like Freeworld Computer, WAMETECH produced precision instruments and sold them worldwide.

At WAMETECH, I built on my professional experience and took my understanding of business istration to greater heights.

I would say that I became the reference and/or the on matters relating to foreign trade, internationally. I was providing expert opinion to the whole organisation from the US and Asia through Europe to Africa.

I left the company to Derinbur at Barringgen on 2 January 2008 because WAMETECH were happy keeping me where they thought I naturally belonged.

At some point down the road into my professional future, I noticed I was no longer interested in writing applications for jobs. It was rather jobs that came looking for me.

All this appears like a fulfilment of some prophetic statements directed to me during my university studies in realization of my own destiny.

I am not talking here about spiritual prophesy by prophets or spiritualists—not at all.

In September 2006, a head-hunter company based in Debatt ed me and suggested that they would send my data to Derinbur for a position as European Customs Manager if I would be interested.

Again, after three different interviews at their Barringgen headquarters, I was hired to start work on 2 January 2007.

When I arrived at Derinbur’s Division of Logistics and Supply Chain in January, I inherited a customs department headed by an acting team lead, Jessica Landgrafe.

The department had had no manager for over nine good months since the previous manager, Markus Dickkopf, switched to a managerial role in the Logistics Department.

The customs department was known and seen as the problem child of Derinbur, and, hence, proper care was needed in managing the over eighteen individuals in the department (including trainees and part time workers) to achieve overall companywide objectives.

Ninety per cent of the staff in the department were women, and one of them was the acting manager.

I was the only black person working for Derinbur at the headquarters.

The customs department was so undesirable that management was contemplating on outsourcing it prior to my arrival.

Contrary to assurances from my recruiters (who had already briefed me about what I was going to inherit) that they would do everything to help me to discharge my duties smoothly, things did not work out well for me due to certain reasons.

Majority of the women in the department did not welcome me. It became obvious that they were dissatisfied with the fact that a male was to take over from their idol, from whom they enjoyed protection and cover up.

The men were happy, welcomed and accepted me as their leader, but as for Jessica Landgrafe, I had a lengthy discussion with her with the view to forging a harmonious working and cooperative relationship with her. You can imagine how it feels like to be demoted from an enviable position.

She, therefore, expected me to declare her as professionally responsible for the department in order to enjoy some cooperation and peace. She argued that she was very familiar with a customs software program. She was right, and I needed her in that area. However, should I give her that role to play would have sent the wrong signal to management about my competence. It was management’s plan to frustrate her into leaving!

When all discussion failed, the outcome became obvious—she succeeded in mobilizing the women in the department against me. They rejected my authority, they defied my instructions on purpose, and majority of them started falling sick. It was all a strategy to cripple the department and force my removal.

Initially, I expected maximum from management, but for how long were they going to me and for how long were they going to tolerate a rebellious department?

Management was not ready to fire her for economic and perhaps for social or some other reasons. She had been working there for over ten years prior to my coming there and had obviously gathered enough information about the department, so firing her would affect the memory of that department tremendously. I mean here was a department that paid about thirty million Euros on monthly basis as levies to the Finance Ministry of Etinorf.

And then one interesting but shocking thing happened. After several months of hypocritically pretending to be watching my back and giving me all the I needed, my boss Johannes Schwaznegar (Director of Logistics) and I held a meeting with my department.

I instructed one of the women to take minutes of the meeting, but again and as usual, all the women disagreed with me and requested before Johannes Schwaznegar that I should be the one taking the minutes. He agreed with them and turned around to ask me to take the minutes.

As if the embarrassment was not enough, a lady called Melanie stood up during the meeting and boldly told Johannes Schwaznegar in front of everybody that they actually preferred to have a white Caucasia Republican customs manager and not a black Caucasia Republican customs manager.

If this was not about racism, then I guess I am rather equipped with an impoverished understanding of racial discrimination!

So it turned out that Mr Johannes Schwaznegar, who had come to the department in his capacity as the Logistics Director to start helping to correct the spoils of the department, ended up cynically or inadvertently ing the defiant and rebellious subordinates in tacitly approving the very unfortunate acts the whole organisation stood against.

And because he failed in standing up against what was obviously inappropriate in that department, I decided to rather pursue my career objectives somewhere else.

I did not expect any good from Derinbur anymore!

Three months down the road, I started work on the 1 October 2009 at AllSeasons as their Customs Manager EMEA (Europe, Middle East, and Africa).

Again, it was not difficult at all for me to find a new job. Perhaps, that was because Caucasian Republic was worldwide leader in exports. Thus, almost every third office seat in the country was an export or foreign trade oriented seat. Or otherwise, it simply had to do with qualifications and experience. Both theories are valid and legitimate.

AllSeasons tasked me, as an in-house consultant, to train the logistics department within EMEA in handling their customs processes including

managing of a tax warehouse. A tax warehouse is not the same as a bonded warehouse and also not the same as a regular or private warehouse. A tax warehouse can only be operated legally by companies dealing with excise goods. Without a licence from the Customs Authorities to operate such a warehouse, a company cannot operate it.

For the purpose of fulfilling the task and meeting my objectives, I rented an apartment at Mier near Springburg.

I visited home during the weekends because the distance was not that large, but whenever I travelled southward to Vuchlag near Strainguaar or to Aarberg in Switzerland or Annemasse in to work, going home became like a once in a month or once in every two weeks issue.

Prior to my ing AllSeasons, they had outsourced all the customs processes to a service provider, and this was so because they had no customs department.

So I worked hard to fulfil my promise to them and also to meet their task target.

I implemented customs software programs at Springburg and at Vuchlag. I did the same at Annemasse in . I had started working on the one for Aarberg in Switzerland when I decided to quit for a better job somewhere else.

In the course of implementing these key software programs, I prepared my own training manuals and guide to understanding the customs processes. Incidentally, the one who succeeded me as their customs manager was one of my trainees.

I that the first time he saw me, he wondered whether I was a civil servant from the government’s customs istration!

And when they saw that their own people had now understood and could handle the processes without my involvement and supervision, they started making my job redundant.

As a matter of fact, Dr Mobbing, the then Logistics Head who also happened to be my boss, and his cohort frustrated me until I finally decided to quit.

They did not do so because I had done something wrong, no. They did that, in my opinion, for a few reasons.

First, they had trainees who were completing their training at AllSeasons. Such trainees are usually cheaper, so they wanted to keep or maintain them. These trainees were also university graduates, so they could not just put them anywhere and feel comfortable with such a decision. Other companies could poach them. They did not want that to happen.

And, second, I had simply become too expensive for them to keep and maintain.

In short, I remained with them till the end of December 2012 and left the company.

A London-based head hunter had ed me in the summer of 2011 to discuss a switch to Kentigen. Two other head hunters from Caucasian Republic were

also after me for a company at Zorrenting called Saetwa and another in Hungensburg.

So I had three interviews with Kentigen at Zorrenting and a fourth one with them in Geneva in Switzerland.

I had only one interview with Saetwa and decided to rather go for Kentigen.

But, before that, I was not sure about Kentigen (they were too slow and could not decide on time), so I actually signed a contract with the Hungensburg Company to start work on 2 January2013.

And then when I was readying myself for work at Hungensburg, Kentigen called and made me an interesting offer. I should say the best offer in my professional career, and I accepted it without delay.

Obviously, I could not start work with Kentigen on 2 January as they had wanted, so I went to Kentigen on 1 February after I had succeeded in negotiating for a release from the Hungensburg Company.

Kentigen was not different from the companies I had already worked in, and I was not surprised either.

They put me in a guest house for one month to enable me rent an apartment at Hustenden, which was closer to the Kentigen Hustenden Plant where I sometimes had to work.

So in all, I was working between Hustenden, Zorrenting and Geneva as their Customs and Excise Manager.

The Hustenden branch was going through a series of crisis with the Customs Authorities, and they needed either someone like me to come to their rescue or face closure of the company.

Closure of the company meant withdrawal of the customs licence to operate a tax warehouse. Without a tax warehouse, the plant would have to be closed down.

The joy, excitement, and happiness of Mr Hans Beerman and Margaret Riecke at my arrival for work at Kentigen on 1 February 2013 cannot be overemphasized here.

That same week, the duo included me in the celebration of Kentigen’s 175th birthday party at the Hotel Atlantis Kempinski at Zorrenting. It was real fun.

Soon, the party was over and work started.

I fixed all their customs problems for them and went ahead in applying for customs process simplifications for them as well.

And as it was with AllSeasons, I trained and ed their logistics and export department with practical and useful information and expert opinion on

situations that required the involvement of a customs professional.

I must say here that I really enjoyed my work at Kentigen and would have done all it took to remain there, but sadly for them and luckily for me, plans to return to my motherland were highly advanced and there was no way whatsoever I would have traded the idea of returning home for remaining in Caucasian Republic. Not even in exchange for a 100 per cent salary increase!

When I first started working in Caucasian Republic, I earned 1.50 EUR an hour, and twenty-six years later, when I was returning voluntarily to my country of origin, I was earning EUR 72.00 an hour.

PART FOUR Back to Western African Republic

1 The Journey Back to Western African Republic

1. Prophecies

When I finally settled with my family in Caucasian Republic, I thought I was not going to return to Western African Republic anytime soon.

I thought Avuh, like Fidel Castro, Muammar Gaddafi, Gnassingbé Eyadéma et al., might remain in power for a very long time.

But one fine Saturday afternoon in July 2000, I was at the Jesus House of Etinorf supervising and rehearsing with the New Life Fellowship (NLF) Church Band and Masschoir when I was invited to meet two elderly couple outside the rehearsals premises.

I was invited because the pastors of the church were not around, and I was the choir president and the ant of the church.

Those days, I was very active playing saxophones for the church.

The elderly couple introduced themselves to me. The woman, Josephine Pieterson, was a prophetess, and her husband was a pastor. The two were white

Zimbabweans who had relocated to Cardif in the UK.

As usual, I linked them up with Pastor Cliff Graddy, the senior pastor of the church who arrived later for an evening service.

The NLF was arguably the largest charismatic church in Caucasian Republic then.

It turned out that Josephine had to minister to the church that evening, so we ed them after the rehearsals.

It was during the service that the prophetess asked me to stand up to receive a prophecy from the Lord.

This is exactly what she said:

‘The brother over there, please, stand up, yes, the saxophonist. Where are you from?’

She asked, and I responded, ‘Western African Republic.’ She then said:

‘I don’t know you, and I don’t know what you are doing with your life, but I have come to tell you what the Lord is saying that you, yes, you, you would be taken to your country of origin, and the Lord himself shall lift you and make you great.’

Though all right a believer, I guess it was way too soon for me to believe that particular prophecy.

***

In 2002, my family and I visited Sarah’s cousin, Victoria Wordjorie, at Almere near Amsterdam, and together we visited the Believers Temple, the church of Bishop Devine Wusiah-Radzome. Wusiah-Radzome was one of the pastors who ordained Samson Sanders Davis as Archbishop.

At the church, Wusiah-Radzome prophesised that I would be taken home to continue my work in Western African Republic.

He later became a family friend, and together with his family they visited us. We hosted them on several occasions.

***

In 2003 Staff Sgt Nudah’s daughter, Vivian, brought and introduced her Western African Republican pastor friend, Benjamin York, to me, and I hosted them for about a month at my residence at Bradville.

The man, who also became a friend, happened to be a prophet from Western African Republic. He presides over one of the Assemblies of God churches at West Glemeh.

Benjamin York and I travelled together to Silver Spring, Maryland, and I assisted him in establishing a church there.

During one of the services, he also asked me to stand up, and he prophesied to me that the Lord would take me back to Western African Republic. According to him, I would become a pastor.

After all these prophecies and channelled messages from the spiritual realm confirming that it is indeed the will of God for me to return to the land of my birth, I started giving a serious consideration to returning home.

As the years, months, and weeks, prior to my departure from Caucasian Republic, got closer, the more it became extremely difficult for me to live and work in Caucasian Republic.

The psychological equilibrium needed to live healthily in Caucasia Republican society was gradually and systematically disappearing.

I had sleepless nights of involved brain-cracking looking for reasons and solutions to the sudden and seemingly never ending hostile activities against me.

It was as if some external forces were actively working in tandem with some agents of change to ensure that my returning to the land of my birth would be the only solution to my dilemma.

Widespread mobbing against me contributed a great deal to my predicament.

2. Efforts to Either Find a Job or Create One in Western African Republic

From December 1987 to June 2014, I had not been able to make a single Caucasia Republican friend in Europe. Working environments were increasingly becoming hostile to me. And somewhere down the road, I feared that if I did not leave the system, I could develop Cardiovascular Damage and die.

I had been planning my return for more than 8 years together with my family and was having a hard time figuring out what and how we were divinely going to be taken away to our homeland as prophesied.

I was hoping that since it was the will of God, I would not have to do anything at all, but doing nothing could not also be the will of God!

2.1 Finding Jobs through Friends

While writing applications and not getting responses in about 98 per cent of applications written, I made efforts to find jobs through people I knew very well, such as friends.

***

Initially, when President Longgie came to power as President of Western African Republic and Major Omar Mukhtar, Col Mahmud Abatcha and others ed him, people thought the prophecies were going to be fulfilled.

As a matter of fact, I visited them at the Blue Gate with Sarah, and Rebecca and Mahmud Abatcha suggested that if I had studied political science he would have fixed me at the Foreign Affairs.

And Major Omar Mukhtar also suggested that I should send him my CV when I completed the MBA programme since he had s with some banks, but by the time I completed my studies in 2003, I had concluded that nothing good was going to come out of that promise.

***

I ed my friend and brother, l Awudu who also did his brotherly best and crisscrossed Nkran with me, introducing me to influential people in the system but frustratingly none of the efforts worked in the long run.

***

I also ed and visited Goddo Pinto Jr both at his residence at Airport Hills and his office at the Port. GP, as we call him, is the owner of Midway Africa Limited and Easy Financial Services, and he’s arguably one of the richest men in Africa—a man I was willing to die for while I was in Luameh at the age of 23.

GP was happy to see me. and he proudly introduced me to all his directors and also to his Oderan wife as one of his trusted friends and a brother. He proudly drove me around and showed me his achievements and the number of employees on his pay roll but never found me any position in his group of companies. Not even the work of a messenger!

***

Also, I ed and visited Capt Kwebuko, the Chief Operating Officer of FK. Kwebuko requested for my CV and told me that he was going through it, and that as soon as something came up, he would let me know.

***

Likewise, I ed and visited Niminado Dualah who had become the CEO of Western African Republic Assured Loans.

As a matter of fact, Dualah had suggested in an email that he was more than willing to assist me in my home coming initiative. He wanted to know what he could do to help.

But when I finalised my relocation plans and informed him, his attitude changed —all communications with Dualah died. Not even did my desire to acquire a property through his outfit materialize.

***

Efforts by Benjamin York, whom I also ed and visited, did not yield any fruit although he introduced me to a few s.

***

I also ed the Namba Chief (Chief Blekado Mansulu II), Denislove Koffi Mallen. Mansulu and I became friends in 2010 when he supervised the buying of a parcel of land at Biateweh.

He also promised to link me up with some prominent friends of his who would surely find me a job. Indeed, he introduced me to Tchino Asanyado in 2015 when my relocation process was at its final stages in Nkran.

2.2 Job Creation Initiative

In 2004, I prepared a sixty-six-page business proposal on acquiring or leasing a five-square-kilometre land at Kpotimeh for the planting, harvesting, and processing of Soya and referred to it as The Western African Republic Soya Project.

In that proposal, I indicated that I needed special locations on site for housing (a gated community) of about 3,500 workers, a school (from day nursery to secondary school level), a hospital, a police station, and an airport for the transportation of processed Soya since processed Soya should be kept in cold at all times.

The project required funding, so I discussed it with Saviour Dellanu, the then CEO of Heavens Transport, who also suggested that I should show it to Niminado Dualah because he thought Dualah was in the position to provide the funds.

Dualah was pretty much interested, but as soon as he received the proposal, he disappeared.

Friends in Caucasian Republic also suggested that I should The KfW Bank for funding, but after giving it some thoughts and considerations, I decided not to go there.

***

With time, other project and/or business ideas came up, but none of them was worth investing in.

Finally, I landed on a wine import idea. The business entailed import of wines from Caucasian Republic and for sale in Western African Republic.

Alcoholic beverages came up because I was at Kentigen. But most importantly, I decided that I would restrict the alcoholic beverages to wine and wine products only. I decided not to offer or sell spirits to anybody.

2 Relocating to Western African Republic

1. Preparations

When I concluded that I was no longer going to live in Caucasian Republic, as usual, I started requesting for quotations from service providers. Those quotations would help me plan and manage the total costs involved in the logistics aspects of my relocation.

I had also visited a number of wineries and had done some reasonable selection of wines.

I visited the Kwebukos at their East Glemeh residence to discuss the plan, and Kwebuko suggested that he would provide assistance, especially, with the cars involved.

He gave me the s of a certain Kennedy Daniels who gave me a quotation for my 9-year-old ML 400.

According to FK Bank, the estimated duty would be between †15,000 and †18,000. This was fine with me, so I decided to ship the car on the basis of that quotation.

So by the end of June 2014, accommodation and money for survival were ready, and a container (with sample wines and personal belongings) was on the high seas heading towards Boleman.

2. Arrival in Nkran

The relocation process was completed in May 2015, albeit it started in 2014.

Being away from home for nearly twenty-eight years, it was not, obviously, going to be possible for me to come and continue from where I left off. I knew it so I psyched myself up before taking off to Western African Republic.

Back in Caucasian Republic, there is a saying that ‘Africans always have the time and Europeans have the watch’.

This attitude to time is true, and I am living with it but making sure I am not encouraging it.

But there are other disturbing as well as challenging issues I have been dealing with since my arrival in Nkran.

2.1 False Promises and Fraudsters

There are a host of individuals and organisations that are, no doubt, fraudsters

and charlatans and who cause us a great deal of damage and pain.

As for such people, certainly, cosmic intelligence knows what it has for them in stock.

People can escape human justice, but no man can escape divine justice!

But there are just two incidents that I personally feel deserve mentioning in this book.

***

FK Logistics: I have learnt not to trust what people or organisations tell me. A typical example relates to an issue with the FK organisation.

Despite officially written information on the duties, I would be required to pay to clear my ML 400 in May 2014, when the car arrived in July, FK Logistics came to me and told me the duty I should pay was †40,000.

The car had arrived, and there was no way I could have re-exported it to Caucasian Republic. I had no such money to clear the car.

Eventually, the car was confiscated, gazetted, and auctioned secretly at, obviously, a lower price to some elite or very special individual Western African Republicans by the Western African Republican authorities.

And FK is not aware of any wrong doing!

It took us three good months to clear our belongings including a small car Sarah had also brought for her personal use, and thanks to Mrs Manye Amorkor and Mahama Adamu. Without the timely financial intervention of these angels, it would not have been possible for us to clear our goods at the port.

Rev Danny Paul of International Fellows Ministry—Rev Danny Paul was interested in our red non-alcoholic wines, so he placed some orders. Sarah and I drove to his residence at the Airport Hills and delivered the wines to him.

First, his wife gave us two cheques to cash in payment at the Stanbic Bank, but all the two cheques bounced.

Since then (2015), the very rich Danny Paul has been struggling to pay for the wines, and as of date (September 2015), he is still left with † 200 to pay.

Nothing hurts than to see people of his type parading and calling themselves ‘Men of God’ but heartlessly killing and destroying the very livelihood and survival of the less fortunate but hardworking people!

2.2 Current Circumstances

I am now fully settled in Western African Republic, the land of my birth, and I am doing well.

My children are great children, and I am extremely proud of them. They are doing pretty well and are on their own.

Additionally, all the prophecies concerning my life have manifested, and I am extremely grateful.

The End