Mr. Sam, the landlord’s son, paid us a visit on Sunday, February 21st. I greeted him from my living room. He mounted the steps and after removing his sandals on the front verandah he proceeded to enter my apartment. I advised him that taking off his shoes wasn’t necessary, so he kept them on. We walked through the hall and dining room, exited the glass door separating the passageway from the back porch. Passed two large barrels of water that I kept filled for emergencies. Used the back porch as a viaduct and then went outside where the large hole at the base of my kitchen was located. His arrival at the property to survey the damage was approximately three weeks after its occurrence. He finally came not because he intended to do anything to ameliorate any undue hardship that any of the tenants was experiencing, because of the broken pipe. He came there to do everything he could to entrench his own authority and power. I advised him, “That under Ghana’s Law, I was not obligated to repair any part of his property at my own expense. Nor was I responsible for any of the water bills resulting from the spillage due to the broken pipe.”
His response was, “That since I was not a Ghanaian I knew nothing about Ghana’s rent laws and that if I did not comply with his demands then I could not continue to live on his property.” I thought about his ultimatum for two days. Then I contemplated the possibility of inviting him to put everything that he had stated in writing. So that I would have a clear understanding of the import of his words. For some understandable and rational reasons, all of my thoughts about that possibility have perished. I went for my usual six-mile walk on Monday evening February 22nd. Once I arrived at the predetermined signboard on the Berekum Sunyani Road, that passed through the forest. I turned around and began to retrace my steps on my journey back home. I heard peals of thunder rumbling threateningly in the distance and as I looked over to my right I saw flashes of lightning on the distant horizon. When I arrived at the lane that served as a hassle-free corridor. If any pedestrian wanted to avoid the heavy traffic on Berlin Road, a strong wind started to blow which soon whipped up a dust storm.
Luckily, I was wearing a COVID-19 related face mask. Which gave my nostrils adequate protection from the flying dust and sand. As per usual there were many children outside playing in the dark, and most of them were enjoying the illumination afforded them, by the light streaming from the roadside shops. By the time I arrived at the end of that corridor, the rain started to come down in drops and short drizzles. When I finally arrived at the corner of Berlin Road that would facilitate a turn onto Sofokyere Avenue, a heavy downpour of rain started. I quickly took shelter beneath a corner shed. But soon discovered that since the rain was blowing from an easterly direction I was being gradually soaked. I moved from there farther up Sofokyere Avenue to The Church of The Latter-Day Saints of Jesus Christ, but my problem persisted. Now I was soaking wet. Not only my shirt but also jeans and underwear. Therefore I quickly crossed the road and sheltered beneath another shed on the western side of that thoroughfare. The covering provided me was part of a new building that was under construction.
Therefore, I used my flashlight to search the ground for lizards, snakes, and scorpions. Since I wanted no unpleasant and fatal surprises under such circumstances. There were many power outages that night. They started while I was in the aforementioned corridor. Several times the power came and went. As I waited there, beneath the shelter, for approximately one hour the whole area was blanketed in darkness. Several three-wheeled taxis passed to and fro. Some of the passengers recognized me and waved to me. The rain showed no sign of abating. I stepped out from beneath the shelter and started to walk home in the inclement weather. I didn’t follow my usual route but turned off onto a side road that I knew would take me home more quickly. As I progressed along my homeward journey, I passed another landlord. Beating down his gate while frantically hoping that some family member inside, would hear him, then come to rescue him from the pelting rain. Such is life. Generally, Ghanaians build their houses like fortresses. With high fences, reinforced by razor-sharp security wire, and large impenetrable iron gates.
Never thinking it would seem, that at some point in time, a family member would possibly be outside, helplessly exposed to the merciless elements. Under normal circumstances, this lane was littered with manholes. Now all of them were water-filled puddles. Even though I was carrying a powerful flashlight, it was impossible for me to accurately gauge their depth. Accordingly after walking through the flowing streams into which the main road had been transformed. I was now inadvertently stepping into ankle-deep water and getting my feet soaking wet, although I was wearing leather boots. The narrow path leading directly to my house had now become a lake of muddy water. In order to avoid it, I had no choice but to brave a walk through the bush. Eventually, I reached home. As I ascended the steps in the gross darkness I noticed that there was debris from the roof, scattered all over my porch. Some of the ladies who lived on my left were venturing out to guide their visitors home. Since the heavy rain had now stopped. The very fact that the thunderous downpour halted as soon as I reached indoors, struck me. Was this some strange coincidence or was it merely the outworking of God’s inexplicable providence.
I mentioned my landlord’s demeanor and ultimatum to a few of my friends. They agreed with me that his demands were illegal. But added, “That I wouldn’t find any landlord anywhere in Ghana that behaved differently.” My landlord’s assertions were illegal. But his attitude enshrined Ghana’s traditions and customs. Everything that he stated was actually Ghana’s uncodified and unwritten law. What he was demanding of me was actually widely practiced throughout the country. Furthermore, opposing him would be futile. I soon discovered after calling around that other apartments were available for rent. But none of them was as comfortable and spacious as the one in which I lived. Furthermore, since there was a creeping devaluation of the Ghanaian Cedi which was now approximately US$1.00 = 7.00 GHS. There was an inflationary spiral within the country. Predictably rents were rising rapidly. I simply decided to count my blessings and stay put. As The Master Himself asserted,
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brethren only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the tax collectors do so? Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Matthew 5:43-48 (NKJV).
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