Kwame Nkrumah - Hard Target

Jan 2, 1964. Kwame Nkrumah walks the grounds of Flagstaff House with personal guards and ‘trusted’ cops aplenty. An assassin (who sent him?) squeezes off a bullet and misses. Salifu Dagarti throws the Prez down, and probably saves his life. For reward, the next bullet drills cleanly through Salifu’s loyal skull. Onlookers remain bystanders as the assassin chases after the President into a kitchen. Prez is screaming, but no help arrives. Kwame Nkrumah personally wrestles and overpowers a gun-toting assassin. On this day, he’s 54 years and 125 days old! But he escapes with only a facial bite!

Kwame Nkrumah – Give Us Chocolate

Cult creation was Kwame Nkrumah’s forte. By an almost unbelievable account, his Young Pioneers* would be amassed into a ‘Dogma’ room with tall walls, a door and upper windows. The thumb-suckers would be encouraged, by their adult minders, to pray to God for chocolate. “God, give us chocolate!” “God, give us chocolate!” Tens of times would they ask, but chocolate would not come down the Manna way. Then, the over-credulous nkwadaa would be ‘hocus-pocused’ to ask Kwame Nkrumah for chocolate. “Nkrumah, our father, give us chocolate.” Just asked once, and down rained confectionery like confetti from the high windows!


*Young Pioneers – A club of young followers of Kwame Nkrumah indoctrinated to be his eyes and ears in every home.

Kwame Nkrumah – Kwame Ukrumah

Francis Kwame Nwia Kofie Nkrumah’s African consciousness aroused itself from his student days at Lincoln University, Pennsylvania. In time, he attracted the observance of the FBI. They must have feared that his electric charisma would fire up the Civil Rights Movement. Thankfully, they did not try (or maybe failed) to set him up for a jail term. That’s how these stories usually end.

The real story, this time, is that with all its sophisticated ways, the FBI did not get even his name right. They kept a file on Kwame “Ukrumah”. Shame! Returning to the the issue of sinister setups: many years later, the FBI’s sister (and rival) agency would trail him into his own country, and help depose him in a coup d’etat!

Kwame Nkrumah – Man and Myth

It is said that every newborn baby squeals. In napping Nkroful, the nascent Nkrumah, Francis Nkrumah, would not whine. His father had to fetch his muzzle-loader (also known as “Atiabofre”) to shoot a bolt. And, so, it took a booming gunshot to jolt little Kwame Nkrumah to whimper a bit. Right there, on September 21, 1909, they knew he was very special!

Kwame Nkrumah Series

This week, 'Ghana Blogging' decided to blog on the eminent statesman. AR will post snippets on his life, and try not to get way too serious. Enjoy!

He Didn't Buy Meat

A lad who never strayed too far from his comfortable life or over-doting parents tagged along when his streetwise schoolmates bussed off to a sports fiesta at Koforidua. His mates ‘diverted’ to a ‘chopbar’ to eat. Rich Boy was fascinated by the Waakye, but had never bought food in a place like this. He did not know how to buy it, what to say, or how much to buy. He glanced around for a clue, and settled on a workman eating the vaunted darkish rice and beans. He sauntered over and shyly asked the man how much he’d bought. The man scowled; he snarled; he gnarled, and left in a huff, calling the hungry hobbledehoy all manner of names that an adult shouldn’t call a child. The battered boy crawled to the food vendor and asked innocently, “what did I do wrong?” As he spoke, he pulled out a promising wallet, which lit up the food mama’s eyes. Said she, “Don’t mind that man. He couldn’t buy meat!”

400

This is my four-hundredth blog post. Since AR started, I have had crossovers into many themes, and, for about a week now, AR has identified itself as a Ghana, urban-culture blog. I admit that I do not even know all urban culture means, but I will learn every day, and I will keep my writer’s eye keen for the telling details everywhere. Thank you all for the blog miles between us. Here’s to more.