A TELEPHONE CALL

To my great surprise and pleasure, the second minibus that I boarded filled up with passengers, quickly. Soon, a clergyman also boarded and was heard preaching the customary sermon. Not too long afterward he was also praying, and supplicating the divine Potentate for journeying mercies. The driver got on, did some preliminary checks, and then turned on the ignition. The engine was heard purring a smooth serenade, and the vehicle started to pull us all out of the Berekum Station. It wasn’t too long before we were driving at a comfortable speed on the Berekum Sunyani road. As per usual and typical of Ghana, there was a large police and military representation on the road. All the way into the Regional Capital of Sunyani. They stopped us periodically just to ensure that the Driver’s License, Insurance, and Vehicle Registration documents were all up to date. Apparently, Ghanaian drivers are speeders. I’ve arrived at this conclusion not only because of personal experience. Many friends and acquaintances have narrated harrowing stories. About deceased parents, and other departed relatives, resulting from traffic fatalities. Moreover, it’s impossible not to notice the plethora of sleeping policemen. That forces the vehicle in which you’re traveling to decelerate and accelerate with such uncomfortable frequency. The gentleman sitting beside me and the driver were soon engaged in a spirited conversation. They spoke in Tri. Therefore I sat quietly, listening and hearing without any understanding. I dozed off periodically and awakened only to see the narrow unending road stretching out before me. After about two hours of driving, I showed the gentleman seated beside me. The piece of paper on which the directions to my destination were written. He said he knew where I was going, and promised to tell me exactly where to disembark. He got off long before I reached the point where I needed to make a change. The driver however assured me that there was no need to worry. Since he would commandeer the vehicle to a spot at which I could easily transfer to a taxi that commuted from Kumasi to The Ahodwo suburb. About fifteen minutes later I heard my phone ringing. I proceeded to unzip the pocket in my duffel bag, where my phone, diary, reading glasses, and wallet, were habitually kept. I picked up the squealing device, pressed the required decal, placed the receiver against my ear, said hello and after identifying myself I heard a male voice announcing, “Mr. James, this is Fidelity Bank, Sir. I’m calling to let you know that you left your sachet here yesterday. Containing your Passport and other important documents.” I thanked him profusely and ended the call. It was only then that everything became relatively clear, to me. I understood exactly why I lost my minibus seat, earlier in the day. I was not supposed to be in the City of Kumasi to transact any business, on that specific day. The Holy Spirit doesn’t shout at anyone. That’s not His modus operandi. He speaks to us through events, circumstances, other people, and sometimes with a still small voice. Because The Lord Almighty is a mysterious operator. The challenge that faces us at every important juncture on life’s journey. Is to learn to stay focused and pay attention. As we read in scripture, “Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ Whenever you turn to the right hand Or whenever you turn to the left.” Isaiah 30:21. I informed the driver of my predicament. He wouldn’t need to make any changes regarding the route that he would need to follow. Since my mission had been aborted. It was impossible for me to obtain a National Identification Card for Expatriates in Kumasi. Or anywhere else, without my Passport. He simply followed his regular course and allowed me to disembark at a certain crossroad. That would easily permit me to negotiate my way to a station. from where I would conveniently obtain transportation, back to the Town of Berekum, in The Brong Ahafo Region. I followed the road on which I alighted from the minibus, without making any turns. I made good progress toward my desired destination and soon I was standing at the entrance to one of Kumasi’s largest transportations hubs. But I could go no further because of what was transpiring before my eyes. There was a musical band performing at the gate. The leading artist seemed to be blind. Several instruments were being played and the exquisite music transfixed me. It all sounded like a mixture of Caribbean Calypso and Ghanaian traditional fare. It was the best instrumental rendition that I had heard in years. The young girls nearby were of the same opinion as me. Since they were dancing, bobbing, and weaving to the vibes. I listened and loitered there for many long moments. Permitting the musical extravaganza to bathe my senses in ecstasy. Soon I found myself, like everyone else. Going up to the bucket at the feet of the performers. To deposit my financial contribution, which was a token of my gratitude. I wouldn’t dare to stand there, and experience such profound pleasure, without giving something of value in return.