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17.10.2018 Feature Article

Father’s Scarecrow, My Sex Life And Millennials: Part I

Fathers Scarecrow, My Sex Life And Millennials: Part I
17.10.2018 LISTEN

Today (October 16, 2018) marks three years since my childhood friend (pseudonymously called Dwamena) died of AIDS. Dwamena and I were both Zongo boys, who grew up together in Maamobi, Accra, in the 1980s. I was only three weeks older than he was. We were both born a few years before the first case of HIV/AIDS was reported in Ghana on March 1986. Consequently, as children, we grew up keenly aware of the ravaging effects of HIV/AIDS. There were also myths about the disease. Some of our older friends, who were already sexually active, had imbibed the notion that AIDS was nothing but a figment of imagination.

They referred to AIDS as an acronym for ‘American Improved way of Discouraging Sex’ (AIDS). Knowledge about the ailment was also so basic that we were told not to shake hands or share utensils with persons living with HIV/AIDS. In the early 1990s, there were many popular songs that were composed to intensify education on the ailment. The most popular song was ‘AIDS is not good; if you get infected, you will die. So, do well not to contract it.’ Today, we know that HIV/AIDS does not necessarily kill. Through improvement in science and the science of nutrition, many ways have been devised to boost the immune system of persons leaving with HIV/AIDS.

Since Dwamena and I lived at the time when there was so much trepidation about HIV/AIDS, we had doses of education, some very misleading, about the ailment. For example, some of our peers speculated that if one touched a girl or simply had a girlfriend (even without sex), one risked being infected with HIV/AIDS. In the midst of this HIV/AIDS paranoia, Dwamena and I were still determined to stay clean. We had separate ambitions: Dwamena wanted to be a chartered accountant, while I was targeting law. We enrolled in two separate basic schools. He went to Base Ordinance Depot Basic (B.O.D) School, Burma Camp, and I went to Kotobabi Presbyterian Primary School (KPPS). We debated over which school had the bragging right – BOD or KPPS.

Fortunately, we both passed our basic education certificate examinations in 1998 and proceeded to secondary school. In the same year (1998), Dwamena went to a Sunyani senior secondary school in Sunyani, where he read Business and I went to West Africa Secondary School and read General Arts. We met during vacation to discuss our progress in school. Since Maamobi did not have any library at that time for pupils and we were also not allowed to read at the Gold House library (at Kawokudi junction), we would rather sit behind the library and read for hours. Dwamena had unbearable phobia for reading subjects, while I detested mathematics. We made up for each other’s weakness by providing mutual help.

In 2001, we both finished secondary school. Dwamena passed all his subjects and qualified for tertiary education. He got admission at Sunyani Polytechnic (now Sunyani Technical University), where he read accounting. I also passed all my subjects with very good grades, with the exception of mathematics, which I had pass grade. But because I was unwilling to rewrite mathematics, since I knew I would not need it in the university, I spent three years at home. I stayed home for that long because I was also unwilling to go to any other tertiary institution other than university. So, by the time I gained admission at the University of Cape Coast to read African Studies in 2004, Dwamena had completed his training and had began his mandatory one-year national service. Fortunately for him, after national service, he landed on a job that paid him well. He managed to continue to actualise his childhood ambition by chartering. In a spate of five years, Dwamena had qualified as a chartered accountant. His salary shot up.

Dwamena’s salary rise meant new taste in life. He developed a bourgeois taste. He left Maamobi and rented a two bedroom self-contain at Abelemkpke, a few hours from Maamobi. He bought a new car and a piece of land at Opeikuma, Kasoa – Central Region. He also rapaciously advanced upon a new lifestyle he had nurtured while at the polytechnic. While at polytechnic, Dwamena had learnt how to quaff. He also developed the habit of womanising. These habits came to a head when he chartered. He naturally attracted more friends who spent the weekend drinking with him. They built a drinking club, where they competed over who was a good wine bibber. Not only that, he became the darling of many women. Gradually, he was distancing himself from me. Because I neither drink nor womanise, I became an estranged friend to him. He occasionally came to Maamobi to see me. While he knew I was not interested in his new habits, he would spend hours reporting to me about his sexual escapades and drinking spree.

We grew up in separate churches, but before going to secondary school, we had both become members of the Church of Pentecost. Incidentally, we both became halfhearted towards Christianity while we were in secondary school. But three years after secondary school, I retraced my steps to Christ, as my freethinking bent evaporated into a more cynical disillusion. Unfortunately, Dwamena became a nominal Christian during his days at polytechnic. Soon after he had chartered, he became a strident critic of Christianity. He never ceased blaming the church for all the poverty in Maamobi. He renounced the sex ethics we had both learned while growing up. I understood and relished his revisionist view of Christian sex ethics because he wanted to justify his new lifestyle. He numbed his conscience!

Since Dwamena had many beautiful ladies around him, all of them craving his attention, he found it difficult selecting a marriage partner. He kept playing the women until he failed to marry. Towards the end of 2013, I got a scholarship to pursue postgraduate education at the prestigious university, Makerere University, Uganda. I was, however, scheduled to leave Ghana in January 2014. This was after I had finished my Master of Philosophy in African Studies at the Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana, in 2011. So, on January 4, 2014, I left Ghana for Uganda, via Addis Ababa (Bole Airport) and arrived in Entebbe (Uganda) on January 5, 2014. Because Dwamena had decidedly avoided me, I only informed him of my scholarship. He was genuinely happy about my attempt at attaining a terminal degree. But he was so busy with his women that he could not drive me in his car to Kotoka airport.

By mid 2014, I got a call from one of Dwamena’s multiple wives that he had been rushed to hospital. He was diagnosed with pneumonia, which was becoming chronic. The doctors had tried all their wits, but Dwamena’s health was only deteriorating. One of the doctors suggested testing him for HIV/AIDS. Alas, Dwamena had contracted HIV. He panicked. The news of his health scared away all his girlfriends, but Esi (pseudonymous name). Esi stayed close to him and provided care. Later, Esi was also diagnosed with HIV. In August 2014, I returned to Ghana for my long vacation (which was four months). A day after I had arrived, I went straight to see Dwamena at the hospital. I was sad about my childhood friend’s predicament. But I did not show any sign that would deepen his sense of hopelessness or dampen his spirit.

I reminded him of our common faith in Christ, and said the following to him:

Dwamena, do not think of yourself dying. Think about life. Death is the penultimate destiny of every man. It is good we think of the means we exit this world, but I can assure you that what is more important is where we go after exiting this world. Remember that we had both once agreed that life is not just about here, there is the other-world. The journey between this-world and other-world is a gap that is not filled by any human being. There is nothing like purgatory. No amount of rituals and prayers can fill that gap. The only person who can fill the gap is Jesus Christ. I know you still remember Him. I can tell you that He is still happy to receive you as His. Death is not extinction but transition. We are not fated to be mortals; we are fated to be immortals. But we live our immortality in different destinations – either heaven or hell. I know you know about this already, so I will not belabour the point giving you a new lecture. But I want to assure you that if you will reconsider your relationship with Jesus Christ, heaven will be your destination. In heaven, we will have new glorious bodies: Bodies that do not succumb to the ravaging effect of AIDS. Just believe!

After I had said that, Dwamena turned his face to the other side of his bed, not wanting to look at me. He shrugged and feebly asked me:

Well, Prempeh, you can still keep your Jesus Christ. Prof. Prempeh, you are really doing well in your studies. But keep it to yourself. If you think your Jesus is capable, why won’t He heal me? Please stop this sermon of yours. I am tired. Let me die in peace.

I left the hospital knowing that Dwamena had almost reached a point of incorrigibility. But I muttered a prayer for him and left. I paid him other visits until I left for Uganda the following January. Dwamena’s health kept progressing from bad to worse. He had given up all hope, but firmly clinched to his agnosticism. He lost many of his friends, except three of them, who paid him ceremonial visits at the hospital.

On October 16, 2015, two months after I had returned to Ghana for yet another holidays, Dwamena gave up the ghost. He was survived by his parents (who had divorced while Dwamena was 15 years old). Esi died a few months before Dwamena. He had no child to immortalize him on earth. During his funeral, I wrote an epithet that I expected to be engraved on his tomb. The epithet was:

You fought not the fight of faith. You fought the fight against the effect of recanting your conscience. Sadly, death was stronger than your resolve to defy your conscience. Return If Possible (RIP), Dwamena!

To be continued.
Satyagraha
Charles Prempeh ([email protected]), African University College of Communications, Accra

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