The Tribulation

By Kobina Amissah-Fynn

Alarm bells are ringing. The world is on a knife-edge, expecting a major catastrophe to occur at any time—perhaps as an outcome of widespread environmental disaster, of a cataclysmic natural disaster, an especially virulent pandemic, a ruinous third world war, or even a nuclear apocalypse.

In West Africa, a young woman searches desperately for a way to keep safe from the impending danger and comes face to face with a different reality—that the threat, though physical in its outward manifestation, is spiritual in origin, one not unrelated to the tribulation of the end times foreshadowed in biblical prophecy.

And then the focus of her search took on a different turn…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hope Books
• Release date: Feb 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393018780

Book preview

The Tribulation

Kobina Amissah-Fynn

THE TRIBULATION

Copyright © K. Amissah-Fynn 2017

All Rights Reserved

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First published 2017

This publication 2020

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This is a work of fiction.  While some true-life religious and historical figures and events do feature prominently in the narrative, the book’s characters are nevertheless fictional and the resemblance of any of them to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Cover image: A conflagration. Fire spells destruction; but it is also a source of light, warmth and can be a harbinger of renewal.

CONTENTS

I. Crossing the Bridge of Hope

II. Traversing the Plain of Euphoria

III. At the Foothills of Understanding

IV. Ascending the Slope of Perfection

V. Swimming in the Sea of Words

VI. Arrival in the City of Friends

VII. Introduction to the Head of a City

VIII. Encountering a Prince

IX. Before the King of Kings

X. Stairway to the Heaven of Security

XI. In the Ranks of the Angels

I. Crossing the Bridge of Hope

Catastrophe Alert!

To all the good people of our beautiful world, be advised that a catastrophic event of biblical proportions seems likely to ravage this earth sometime soon. Signs of the gathering storm are already there for all to see. Birds of affliction could swoop down our cities from the sky in the not-too-distant future, conceivably turning vast swathes of territory into a veritable wasteland and leaving nothing but pain and sorrow in the hearts of the hapless millions who do survive. Given that the exact day and hour for the climax of any such apocalyptic episode cannot be known, you are called upon to watch always, be on the alert at all times, pray regularly if you are a believer in godly interventions, take adequate precautions, and keep safe!

- This message is brought to you in the interest of all humanity – by P.A.

A strange warning indeed! A worrisome enough alert to strike terror in the hearts of any population! Its source no one seemed to know for certain much less make out what the P.A. initials stood for. Nonetheless, the essence of the message was grave enough to engage people in chatter all day long all over the place—not only amongst anxious families, frightened friends and fretful neighbours but also involving complete strangers—in the neighbourhoods and suburbs of the capital city of Accra and in communities across Ghana. An instant hot topic the alert became on news bulletins, radio talk shows, social media platforms, television programmes and in discussion forums of all kinds. 

January 2010 was the month the alert first came to the attention of the populace, through posters on walls across the capital city and by way of leaflets handed out in its sun-kissed streets by men and women whose identity no one seemed to know. Yet while the source of the alert was a matter of some debate (although there was suspicion in some quarters that it might have originated from an obscure cult with links to an unnamed powerful seer somewhere), its import was clear and serious enough to catch the attention of people in all parts of the country. What could not have been clear was whether the catastrophe (or Cata, as the predicted event eventually came to be known in abbreviated form) was going to be the outcome of widespread environmental degradation leading tragically to the extinction of the species; stem from the unfortunate fusing of the many civil wars around the world into one ruinous world war; ensue from a cataclysmic natural disaster; result from the spread of an especially virulent pandemic across the globe; or be the outcome of a nuclear Armageddon triggered as a result of deep-seated misunderstanding amongst powerful nations.

Not beyond doubt, however, was the ripple of fear that went through the city following the initial sounding of the alarm, fear that contributed to an upsurge in religiosity amongst the traumatized inhabitants. Soon many a place of worship in the city was overflowing with anxious worshippers, who called night and day on the Lord for deliverance from the unpredictable threat. Even so, after an exemplary few months of pious life amongst the nervous inhabitants, their anxieties began gradually to wane, their fear of the impending catastrophe steadily dissipated, and little by little the usual life of sin, of debauchery, crime, drugs, prostitution, theft, and every imaginable kind of wickedness and debasement returned with a vengeance to many a neighbourhood of Accra.

Notwithstanding, while some residents became less disturbed than others, all were concerned enough to at least continue looking for something to help them escape the terrifying effects of the Cata should it ever rear its ugly head. Nurses, mechanics, housewives, police officers, shoeshine boys, students, market women, monks, executives, you name them—these were among the multitudes who searched and searched all day long for something.

Like them, Kukua Ahndo, a petite, unassuming, personable 24-year-old social welfare worker, searched almost every day in the streets of Accra, as part of her work in the field. She would fretfully ask everyone she met, What will save me from this terrible, terrible Cata? But though everyone had his or her own take on what needed to be done, none of their answers truly satisfied Kukua.

One told her, "I don’t know about you but I’m doing all I can to lay hands on precious metals. With gold bars and silver ingots I’ll have something to fall back on to rebuild my life should I survive the Cata."

A young man wooed, I just need to find myself a wife; that way, I’ll have a reason to struggle and survive. Will you marry me?

I need a true spiritual guide. Through his guidance, my soul will find safety even if my body is destroyed. Do you know where I can find such a guru? That was the neighbourhood food seller.

And then there was that ambitious young man who said, Follow my advice and look for money... through whatever means. That’s what I’ve been doing all this while: looking for money ... tons of it! With change in your pocket you can spend your way to safety. Why pay with your life, my dear sister, when you can pay with money?

Another whispered: Shh! Between you and me, I’m planning to build a fully-stocked underground bunker for the survival of my family. Please keep it a secret, will you? I don’t want anyone outside of my family to know.

Good-luck charms, shouted the quack spiritualist, as he pointed to some copper bangles on a mat in front of him at the outskirts of the Achimota market. "Five cedis each. With these charms on your arms, you’ll be miraculously saved from the Cata, I can guarantee you that. I brought them all the way from Kissidougou in Guinea... Very effective... How many do you want to buy—for yourself, your family, your colleagues and friends?"

A lady acquaintance advised her: Look for Mr. Right... like I’m doing, Kukua. With him around, you’ll have a dependable beau to chaperon you to safety on that awful, awful day.

Palm wine, growled the drunken, pot-bellied, middle-aged man. With wine you’ll forget all your anxieties. You won’t care a hoot whether the Cata strikes today or tomorrow.

Food, chanted the foodie, eat all the food you can get, so if you bite the dust during the Cata you’ll have no regrets!

Children, breathed the thirty-something-year-old mother; plenty of children; if even one of them survives the Cata, your posterity is assured.

An unseen enemy that can strike at will and without warning is scary, moaned the faint-hearted military officer. I need a protective talisman to give me the courage to face up to this fearsome doomsday monster. Do you know any powerful juju-man around here?

A spacecraft, chimed the teenage space junkie; with a spacecraft you abandon the earth and travel into outer space to begin a new colony on the moon, Mars or some other hospitable planet.

The Cata, so-called, is hypothetical, argued the self-declared philosopher, and I don’t believe in the logic of the hypothetical. My door is always open. Please come again when you have something more interesting to discuss.

And no different from the philosopher was the diehard cynic who cried with unfeigned incredulity, Do you truly believe there’s going to be a worldwide catastrophe? God save us! When is the world going to be free of gullible people like you? All I can tell you is: ‘Good luck with your search!’

Running shoes, young woman, suggested the marathon runner, in another part of the city. Wear running shoes at all times, even in bed at night, so whenever you hear anything untoward you can instantly run very, very hard and take refuge in the hills!

Education... Get yourself a PhD and you’ll have answers at your fingertips to every question, even those pertaining to the Cata.

Religion... or should I say the lack of it: If we get rid of religion the world will be free of the delusional claims of the fanatics. I don’t believe there will be any Cata, ever!

And so on and so forth...

Yet far from being deterred, Kukua continued asking everyone she met—in the streets, in the marketplace, on public transport, at work, at the beach, at the theatre. What will save me from this horrible, horrible Cata? she would ask. But though each person seemed to know what he or she needed to do to keep safe, none could give Kukua an answer that truly satisfied her.

That was how things were until the day she joined a shared taxi, as it picked its fares along the way from the Accra New Town quarter of the city to the Nungua quarter. She was the fourth passenger to join to complete the number, and took her place at the back seat near the right window, next to an older man with silver hair in the middle seat. There was of course one other passenger at the left window seat, and another in front.

When Kukua asked her fellow passengers, together with the driver, what they were doing to be saved from the nasty Cata, the soft-spoken silver-haired man responded instantly by saying he had been trying really, really hard not to have sleepless nights about the whole thing since he was already advanced in years and his days were numbered.

You may be old, sir, but I’m still quite young, Kukua let it be known. So what do you think I should look for to find true safety from this dreadful, dreadful Cata?

The man was thoughtful for a while before replying: "I frankly don’t know what you should be looking for... but if you keep asking people along the way, like you’re doing now, I’m sure somewhere along the line, you will receive a satisfactory answer. You’ll know it when you find it, young lady. Asking doesn’t harm nobody, does it? Ask, ask! Talk to people; listen attentively to what they have to say; reflect carefully on what you hear; look everywhere... and I mean everywhere! Somewhere someday the answer will just drop on your lap. Don’t forget what the Bible says in Matthew 7:7: ‘seek, and ye shall find.’  I tell you, young lady, if you look passionately for something you’ll surely find it!"

Kukua liked the answer even though it did not immediately resolve her perplexity. She liked it because it was new, it was different, and it resonated with her innermost self in a strange sort of way. She thanked the elderly man and asked the others what they too had to say. None could advance a thought she had not heard before, so she turned to the elderly man once more and asked if he had anything else to add.

Young lady, he replied, I have nothing else to add except to say that you need to be passionate in your search, as I’ve already indicated, but you also need patience. Without patience you sure won’t get nowhere. And patience can’t kill nobody, can it?

Kukua liked this response as well and realized she had also developed a soft spot for the man himself, for some reason. He got down soon after at the area of Teshie. And when Kukua asked him where he lived, just as the taxi was about to move on, he pointed to houses in the dusty alleyway just off the road ahead of him, saying he did not live far off from there. And that was how things were as they parted.

Memories of the old man came flooding back to her a couple of weeks later when she saw him in a strange but profound dream she had one night. This dream it was which convinced Kukua to do whatever it would take to re-establish contact with the man. Who knows if he was in possession of a secret which could ultimately help her beat the monstrous Cata?

Locating the elderly man did not prove easy, though, as she did not know his name or his house number. All she could do was go to the neighbourhood he had pointed to, describe him to the people in the area, and ask around—and this she did from time to time, over a period of weeks, but without much success.

One afternoon, while attempting for the last time to find the elderly man, Kukua was pleasantly surprised to crash into him in front of a house a bit further off than she had imagined. He looked confused when approached and could not remember who she was until after she had given details of their encounter in the taxi; whereupon she was well received by him and his elderly wife inside the house.

He gave his name as Adjetey, but being an older man, about 60 years of age, everyone in the vicinity usually added Ataa as an honorific. Kukua chatted with him and his wife for a while and collected his mobile phone number before leaving. From that day onwards, she would regularly call him to chat and seek his advice on matters pertaining mostly to her search for safety from the Cata. From their ever-deepening relationship she was introduced to other qualities she would need to cultivate to attain success with her endeavours: that beyond being patient, she also needed to be persevering; to welcome every kind of information, even those which appeared counter-intuitive; not to lock herself up in a box but to be liberal and open-minded in her outlook; to have zeal; to sacrifice every baggage she was carrying from the past; and to intensify her efforts.

One thing Ataa Adjetey emphasized, over and over again, was for her to continually widen her activity in order to reach a satisfactory destination and attain the recognizable object of her quest. Based on those words of wisdom, Kukua continued searching everywhere—in the streets, in the chop bars, people’s homes, schools and colleges, the offices, shops, on public transport and in taxis; at the conference halls, the marketplaces, the bus stations, the cinema houses, banks, petrol stations; amongst school children, market women, housewives, miners, fishermen, teachers, journalists, electricians, architects, IT specialists, translators, caterers, civil servants, roadside cobblers, weavers, politicians, judges, sand winners, trash removers, mechanics, industrialists, novelists, poets, dramatists, artists, dancers, drummers, engineers, gardeners, sports people, village chiefs, millionaires, migrants, tourists, believers, nonbelievers, criminals, beggars, the homeless, etc., etc.

She talked to whoever was ready to talk and left no stone unturned in her efforts. To all she asked the same simple question: What do you think a young woman like me should do to be saved from this pitiless, pitiless Cata?

It was during a memorial gathering in the Adenta area, however, that a bell finally began to ring in her ears. Kukua had gone there not because she knew the deceased woman but as part of her ongoing initiative. Sitting uninvited at the back of the gathering of mourners, she listened attentively for any clues that might lead her to safety from the undesirable Cata. As the programme unfolded, a plump woman, called Dora, got up to deliver a eulogy in memory of the deceased woman. Dora spoke from her heart and had many good things to say about Afie, her deceased cousin. What struck Kukua in course of the oration, though, was the way she ridiculed the unjustified fear that had gripped all people on account