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THE WOUND J.J. RAWLINGS INFLICTED ON MY LEGS

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I don’t remember the year but I remember I was in basic school. We had just closed from school and boys were idling in the neighborhood.

The day had been uneventful and boys were yearning for an escapade to end the day with so when words went round that J.J. had flown a HARUGONTA (helicopter) to town and landed on the Lasi park at Odumase Krobo, our happiness was boundless.

And guess what, the news spread like a gas-fueled inferno. Human traffic soon started moving in one direction; the young and old swarmed in excitement to the park to catch a glimpse of ‘Junior Jesus’. In that news, I found a compelling reason to evade the house chores that were waiting for my attention.

JJ Rawlings

I was scheduled to pound fufu for the family’s consumption and I was looking for a way to ‘balance from the system’ so I joined the boys; we quickly hatched a plan and took flight. The prospect of seeing JJ and his HARUGONTA filled us with so much energy that we sprinted at such a top speed and yet we didn’t run out of steam even after running for several minutes.

Then we encountered a hurdle; there was this short retaining wall erected across the ‘lungu lungu’ footpath – that meandered through the neighbourhood. It was meant to keep erosion in check.

The first two boys ahead of me scaled the wall with cheeky ease and that gave me a false impression that I could do so at the speed at which they did, but I ended up miscalculating the height of the wall and the distance from where I jumped.

I paid dearly. The wall scraped my shin and scooped a sizable flesh on my left leg. Jesus Christ of Nazareth! The pain was damn excruciating. Blood trickled down and left my foot drenched in no time. We applied our knowledge of local medicine, fetched some Acheampong leaves, and rubbed it on the wounds to help stop the blood from flowing and yes it did but the wounds became more obvious.

Then a dilemma set in, to go watch J.J or retrace myself back home. My friends dragged me along like a wounded soldier, but as expected, the incident tamed us and suppressed our zeal/enthusiasm. We were no longer as boisterous and spirited as before. Now instead of running, we walked.

The other boys walked slowly so that the ‘wounded soldier’ could keep pace with them. What was more painful? By the time we got to the park, JJ had flown his HARUGONTA back to Accra, and the crowd was dispersing with varied tales on the lips of the people. You should listen to the interesting stories from the ‘early worms’ who arrived early enough to meet the MAGICIAN called J.J.

We cursed our stars and hurled a fair share of the curse at J.J. in absentia. Because I ran away from pounding the fufu, I dreaded telling the old girl about the wounds so I hid it under my trousers for weeks until it festered. The old girl later discovered the wounds and applied the right remedy to heal them after a marathon of painful treatment sessions, but the scars refused to go, they are on my leg to date. Oh J.J !!

Ny3 hii si n3 I pue ny3 toli p3. Hahahahaaaa, I ml3 ny3 kpa yumu

Written by Henking Klonobi Nyumu-Teye Koopeemapee

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1 Comment

  1. Great one there.

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