“Thank you for tuning in to Kasahari 92.7 FM. Now, for the local news”, bellowed the deep voice from the radio in Mr. Obuor Omane’s Kia taxi. “More politics,” he muttered as he sped along the now deserted highway. His journey home was as tiresome as the day had been. It’s midnight already, and he must prepare his muscles for the sprint he is about to do. The screeching sound of the car tires as he attempted the James Bond style parking was inevitable and so was the eminent pursuit; dog versus man. Elder Adusah’s dog had been the curfew enforcer of the compound house since its arrival. This night will determine whether Obuor wakes up covered by a blanket or put on a drip. He left the cab under the protection of the blinking street light and neared the gate. Sadly, the usual bone remnants lying in the store of the “waakye” seller nearby were absent. Goodness! This was not meant to be his night. He took advantage of an empty takeaway pack and threw it into the house just to notify the beast of his presence. But before the polystyrene pack even hit the floor, the dog had already charged and soon the jaws of the mongrel was five feet away from the metal gate. He closed the gate to protect himself, though it barely abated the intensity of its barks, and dashed quickly to the wall at the back. With the canine still attacking the gate, he scaled it and crept into the house. “Haa,” he sighed, “Blanket it is!” Still stressed out from the night’s escapade, he dozed off.
“Maame! Maame! Don’t go! Someone, help me!” “Obuor, we’re losing her!” “No! No! Maame, don’t give up. Eii! Why is this happening? Please…” He wakes up panting from another nightmare of a past he couldn’t forget. His heart was still aching from the pain of his loss. The feel of the warm blood that had soaked her gown was still vivid in his memory. That day, he thought he would be welcoming a new-born, only to lose both the child and Maame. This was the consequence of someone’s idiocy; or rather some people’s. The unfinished hospital had cost them more than the price to finish it. That fateful day, Obuor was forced to travel to the city hospital to seek medical attention for his young wife in labour. Getting up from his bed, he walks over to a paper box; gazing at the incomplete woven apparel meant to clothe the petite child. Maame never got to prove her mother wrong of her infertility claims. His wife and unborn child are sleeping in the very soil that should have held the foundations of the Jacobu Medical Center. The incomplete building was as useless as the journey they made to the central hospital 10km away. Anger began boiling in him that instant and he lay on his bed with tears streaming down his cheeks. Staring at the dawn sky through his window and listening to the echoes on the quiet street of Kaneshie, he whispered, “Why is the world so evil?”
It’s a hot sunny morning at the taxi rank. The guys are jovial as usual; squabbling over the previous night’s blockbuster movies. “Ayon whee is here oo!” the young boy announced. This was the normal greeting Obuor received every morning at work. The nickname, “Iron Wheel”, was adopted from one of Mr. Omane’s favourite movie heroes. This character was invincible with his grey Porsche and incredible driving. He believed those skills would rub off him if he adopted the name. Coincidentally, it described so well how stony his heart had become. It had been hardened by the agony of his past and the name stuck ever since. The day passed quickly and by the time the rush hour was almost over, most of the taxis were out on their rounds. Yet before Obuor could make any decision on his next move, a man walked up to him. Obuor examined him quickly. He met the full criteria of a “heavy earner”; a potbelly, two phones and a wallet in his back pocket. “I am going to Ridge, how much?” “GH₵50,” Obuor replied. The gentleman burst out, “That’s outrageous! For this short distance?” The driver cunningly interjected, “That’s how it is oo, sah!” The trip was smooth and only delayed by the regular traffic lights. Upon careful observation, he realized that his customer was a businessman. Obuor was grateful for the opportunity. He doesn’t always get “big fish” to take the bait. He could also use the extra change. During the journey however, Obuor became irritated by the man’s arrogance. “Which one is worse; the stench from the rubbish dump behind us or his attitude,” he thought to himself. His conversations were even more annoying. “Are you crazy? I can’t lose this opportunity. If it has to be forced, so be it! Forget about my wife, this is more important. What about the investment services? What do you mean we’re making a loss? Oh, the clients? Increase the charges behind their backs. I am here to make big money oo! If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Driver, will you bring that radio down!”
They finally arrived; and just as the man walked off, a young girl approached the taxi. “I am going to the Rose Hotel.” Obuor nodded, but before he could even mention the price, she was seated. “This generation of “Google children”, they don’t even remember how to greet,” he murmured under his breath. Throughout the journey, the girl just took “selfies” and made comments like, “Oh, my followers have reduced.” Halfway through the journey, the sound of a ringtone -one of Stoneboy’s tunes- broke the silence. From a glance at his rearview mirror, it was clear that she wasn’t happy to answer it. “I’m almost there ah! Mummy, I’m not a child for goodness sake. Esi’s parents throw her parties in the night but I can’t even go to town in the day. ” She hanged up and dropped the phone on the seat. “I won’t even attend your funeral,” she added. The driver couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head.
Obuor got home exhausted, as always. The only comfort his mattress could provide was an environment to think. The day had ended for him, but not for his mind. He scanned through the thoughts that had been uploaded during the day. He began reminiscing the encounters with his two clients. “How are such people alive, when the innocent die without mercy? There isn’t just evil in the world, the world itself is evil. The selfishness of humanity still continues. There seems no way things could change. The wisest decision now is to just sit back and observe; there is clearly nothing one can do. I will not involve myself with the problems or their solutions. “Vengeance is the Lord’s!” my pastor once said. Now, the best way to wait for it, is in silence,” the voice in his head echoed.
“Ayon, the money is come?” Togbe inquired from him the next morning. He was highly admired by the others; but it clearly wasn’t because of his age. It was simply because he had reached the farthest level of education as compared to all the other taxi drivers in the area. Though they were obviously older than him, they treated him as the son they never had. It was a wonderful family they had built from their quest of breadwinning. Yet his hardened heart would not open up. “It’s not your concern,” he replied in irritation. Today he decided to have an early breakfast at Auntie Esi’s. He arrived at her shed just as the first set of donuts were being removed from the fire. With the extra change from his “big fish”, he could afford more than the usual three. The aroma was enough to stir any hunger, yet the smile that lit the young seller’s face was the reason the Kia taxi driver visited every morning. Only Maame smiled like that, and that satisfied him better than the palatable taste of her morning meal. Yet the hunger was still present and he zoomed quickly into his car to “conquer” the fried buns. Before he could open the wrapper containing the last set, his meal was interrupted by a young lady. His first impression was that she was clearly tired. Her skimpy shorts made it easy to guess her recent activities. He inquired of the destination, packed away the remnants of his breakfast and headed for the University of Ghana. On the way, she started a conversation, “Life is not fair.” “At all!” Obuor exclaimed. “I’m honestly tired of this,” she continued. “Can you believe he wants to introduce me to his friends too? This was supposed to be concealed. I really want to stop, but you know, I can’t. No money, no school. My parents still don’t know I lost the scholarship and I want to keep it that way for this last year. I would have liked to settle in with a nice guy like John and start a life, but instead I’m stuck with a fifty-year-old drunkard.”
They neared the gate and she insisted that she would get down. Before handing her the change Obuor said, “It’s such a wicked world, isn’t it?” The young girl smiled and staggered towards the gate. All that driving had made him so drained. He needed some refreshing rest; but his car needed a refreshing wash. He made his way to the usual venue to find the whole battalion present; each man working on his car. The sound of singing and drumming emanating from the Bright Day Academy close by brought back memories. He used to be the best bass drummer in Agogo 1&2. He would beat his drum with so much pride and occasionally steal a glance at the girls to see if he was being admired. Those days were epic, until two boys were admitted into the school and stole the glory. That notwithstanding, those were good days for him. Now, the only women he impresses are the local vendors passing in and out of the station. It’s the normal tale of a taxi driver. But all that doesn’t matter as much as Maame does to him. He would give everything to have her back. After completing the morning’s task, the cab driver dozed off with his brown duster shielding his face from the sun.
He was startled awake by the ringing of the school bell. “Eii! It is 3pm,” he declared, alarmed. He stretched himself a bit and walked round to warm up his muscles. A gentleman approached his red and orange Kia. Understanding what his intentions were, Obuor moved towards him. “I’m heading to Oxford Street please,” the man stated. Obuor looked down to see the little child clinging unto the man’s legs. It was difficult to determine the colour of the boy’s shoes through the mud that covered it; let alone his socks. His hair had been shaded with the colour of the sand they stood on. “Daddy, I want yoghurt!” the kid cried. Obuor placed his rag on the seats to protect his leather cushions; the day had not yielded much and he wouldn’t let an eight-year-old add to his problems. On the way to his client’s destination, the magnitude of the travelling distance put him in awe. Looking through the rear-view mirror, he saw the youngster busily fidgeting with his father’s Itel phone. Many thoughts flashed through his mind until he finally mustered courage to speak, “Why do you come all this way just to bring your son to school?” The man smiled and replied, “I work at the Royal Dragon Company Limited which is not too far from Bright Day Academy.” “Oh wow! I hear the workers there feed off the pockets of the wealthy clients”, Obuor quipped. He burst with laughter, “Well, not all birds have the same feathers. I prefer to remain honest in my activities.” “But those same clients get wealthy from cheating us!” the driver exclaimed. The youngster returned the phone to his father and stretched his legs out to sleep, dirtying the seats in the process. However, Obuor’s attention was so much on the conversation that he was not bothered. “That is true, but two wrongs never make a right. We are supposed to be the light. If we all become the darkness, who is going to shine?” Obuor was silent. He continued, “I might not be happy with what the world has become, but I don’t want to add to the problem. I lost my brother a few years ago, just because someone could not tolerate his success. After three years of continuous hardwork, he built an enterprise of retail shops all around the region. All was well until he didn’t return home one night. His wife rushed to the store with their eldest son. At the same time, his twelve year old daughter was still in intensive care receiving treatment for lung failure. His lifeless body was found lying in his chair with his white shirt now dark red. The gunman, who admitted he had been contracted, was arrested days later but was shockingly granted bail with one month community service. I could choose to focus on the pain and acrimony, but I healed. Now, I help others do same through my New Life Foundation. It provides aid to people who have lost their breadwinners and are finding it hard to get up again. I might be just a small worker, but not in my heart.” He pointed at the junction he would get off at. As the car slowed down to a halt, he instructed his son, “Junior, say thank you to uncle.” “Thank you, uncle,” the sleepy youngster said. Obuor forced a smile in reply, “You’re very welcome.” After closing the door, the gentleman looked at him and said, “The fact that you meet one or two bad nuts doesn’t mean there aren’t good ones.”
It was a different journey that day. Not because of the road he was on, but because of what what he was going to become. He thought to himself, “The man was right. The halted traffic is just reflecting how frozen my life has become with this wrong mentality boiling in me. I can’t make Maame come back, at least not in this world. However, I could help her rest with satisfaction and peace, and grant others the same. I’m not going to continue hating the world for how bad it is, but I’m going to start believing that I can make a difference. I will start by doing the good most people aren’t ready to do. One spark at a time; it will change.”
“Are you serious?! Auntie Esi is married?! That’s awesome!” His joy could not be contained and he was soon doing the “shaku” dance. “Mr. Omane..,” the secretary barged in saying. Obuor quickly rushed to his seat to fold his arms and take a formal posture, hoping she hadn’t seen his shenanigans. “The delegation has arrived,” she added while trying to hold back her laughter. “A minute please,” he responded in embarrassment. “Wow! It’s been five years between when I was the Kia cab driver at the Circle taxi station and when I became the C.E.O. of Iron Wheel Motors. Many faces have found smiles after I put light into my life; and that includes mine. I still can’t believe I had been missing this all these years.” He is just about to enter a business meeting with the Member of Parliament to discuss the next course of action. Currently, he supports the government to build and refurbish maternity wards across the country. After many years of heartache, the Iron Wheel finally found love again. The gentleman was right; there are good nuts. After the late night meeting with the delegation, Obuor entered the dark car park to leave for home in his Porsche.
With the green light and the loud “honks” in the midst of the vehicles on the Osu Street, his mind was cast back to the hot afternoon with the man in uniform. Boy, had he been wrong! The world might still have its evil because people may not change. But just as he did change, others will do too; beginning with the mindset. He’s no more the iron that crushes things into pieces, but one that supports them. The words he glanced at on a Founder’s Day billboard that fateful day after dropping the middle-aged gentleman and his son reappeared in his mind’s eye;
“Ɔman no sε εbεyε yie o,
Ɔman no sε εrenyε yie o,
Ɔmanfo bra na εkyerε!
Heading towards his seven-bedroom house under the midnight sky, he switched on the radio of his flashy automobile. “Thank you for tuning in to Kasahari 92.7 FM. Now, for the local news.”
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