DAGOMBA WOMAN'S DIARY

By MH Achimsa

Nasara, a young Dagomba lady from Ghana, West Africa, had given up hope of connecting with her late mother until she stumbled upon her mother's diary. As she read through its pages, she was shocked to discover that her mother had not died due to maternal mortality like she had been told but murdered, turning her world upside down.
Determined to find her mother's killer and bring them to justice, Nasara began to delve deeper into her mother's past. But her boyfriend, Salam, had other plans. He didn't want Nasara to uncover the truth and would stop at nothing to prevent her from doing so.
Nasara didn't realize that the more she uncovered, the more danger she put herself in. The killer was still out there, and they would stop at nothing to keep their identity hidden. But Nasara was determined to seek the truth, even if it meant risking her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MAAH CONSULT AND PUBLISHING
• Release date: May 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9789988354534

Book preview

DAGOMBA WOMAN'S DIARY

MH Achimsa

MAAH CONSULT AND PUBLISHING

Book cover page

DAGOMBA

WOMAN'S

DIARY

MH Achimsa

© MH Achimsa 2023

All rights reserved

The right of MH Achimsa to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her by copyright laws.

A catalogue record of this book is available from the Ghana Library Authority issued by the George Padmore Research Library on African Affairs.

DDC 808.83 - - dc 21

ISBN: 978-9988-3-5453-4 GLCN – 279

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means without permission in writing from Maah Consult And Publishing (Maahcap).

Published in Ghana by Maah Consult And Publishing

Accra, Ghana

Guinea Street 18, East Legon District

[phone]

www.maahcap.com

[e-mail]

For the beloved family of Andaratu and Achimsa, whose unwavering faith in me has been the anchor that keeps me grounded, the fuel that keeps me focused, and the inspiration that keeps me dreaming.

Prologue

Nasara, who had longed to connect with her late mother, had given up hope until she stumbled upon her mother's diary. As she read through its pages, she was shocked to discover that her mother had not died due to maternal mortality like she had been told but murdered, turning her world upside down.

Determined to find her mother's killer and bring them to justice, Nasara began to delve deeper into her mother's past. But her boyfriend, Salam, had other plans. He didn't want Nasara to uncover the truth and would stop at nothing to prevent her from doing so.

Nasara didn't realize that the more she uncovered, the more danger she put herself in. The killer was still out there, and they would stop at nothing to keep their identity hidden. But Nasara was determined to seek the truth, even if it meant risking her life.

Chapter 1

THE COUP AND THE CRADLE

1966

Malik's heart raced as he read the letter once again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His comrades in the Ghana military were planning a coup against Nkrumah, the President of Ghana. Malik had always been a loyal soldier, but he couldn't stand by and let this happen. The only problem was that he was in Tamale, miles away from the capital city of Accra, where the coup was set to take place.  He was on three weeks’ vacation to support his pregnant wife and celebrate the birth of their child. But now, he was consumed with fear and uncertainty.

Malik tried to push the letter out of his mind, but it was impossible. He couldn't sleep, eat, or focus on anything else. He knew he had to act fast but didn't know where to start.

Finally, he made a decision, but his heart sank as he realized he couldn't bring himself to tell his wife, Fatimatu, that he was leaving again. He couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes. Instead, he turned to his father for help.

Mba Azindow, Malik’s father, had always been a man of few words, but he had also been a pillar of strength for the family. Malik trusted him implicitly, and he was relieved that he had agreed to inform Fatimatu and his mother after he left.

Malik set out on the long journey back to Accra. His mind zoomed with thoughts of the coup, and his heart thumped with fear and determination as he prepared for the impending chaos.

He knew there was no better alternative for Ghana than Nkrumah. If the military succeeded, Ghana would never recover from the wound it was about to inflict on itself.

Malik believed Nkrumah was the visionary leader that Ghana needed: his futuristic mindset and bold decisions aimed to make Ghana a self-sufficient and prosperous nation.

He dreamed of transforming Ghana from an agrarian economy into an industrial powerhouse, producing eighty percent of everything consumed and exporting tertiary products for higher foreign exchange.

Malik shared Nkrumah's vision and believed in his ability to lead Ghana to the promised land of abundance and patriotism. Therefore, he was determined to do whatever it took to ensure Nkrumah's safety and success.

As his body ached with exhaustion, Malik peered out of the window of the rickety bus, his eyes straining to make out the silhouette of Accra in the distance.

Malik was a loyal member of the Presidential Personal Regiment (PPR), and Nkrumah was not just a leader to him; but a friend, mentor, and saviour. The president had taken him in when he was lost and broken. Malik had been the only survivor haunted by guilt and despair after a military operation went wrong. Nkrumah gave him purpose and a sense of belonging.

Over the years, he had watched Nkrumah speak passionately about his dreams for Ghana. He had heard him talk about building a prosperous and self-sufficient nation where every citizen could live in comfort and dignity. He had seen Nkrumah's love and selflessness and couldn't understand why anyone would want to undo all the progress and hope Nkrumah had built for Ghana by ousting him.

Malik's footsteps echoed down the corridor as he approached the PPR emergency conference room to join his colleagues. His mind was racing with ideas and plans, each more urgent than the last. He knew that time was running out, and they needed to act fast to stop the coup.

After hours of deliberations and planning, the PPR emergency conference room was suddenly quiet. It looked like everyone was in deep thought.  Malik thought about his pregnant wife, Fatimatu. He had promised to support her to make the labour pain bearable though his father chastised him to stay away from women's issues. He hoped he could still keep his word.

◆◆◆

Fatimatu lay on the mat; her face twisted in agony as another wave of pain swept over her. She had never felt anything like this before. The day's heat only added to her misery, making it even harder to bear. She had heard stories of childbirth from her mother and mother-in-law, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Her mother-in-law had sent for the local birth attendant, a trusted family friend who knew the secrets of childbirth. Perhaps she could show Fatimatu how to lessen the pain.

Fatimatu's body was wracked with pain, but her heart ached with a different agony. She couldn't help but feel disappointed and let down by her husband, Malik, who had promised to be there for her during the birth of their child. He had reassured her time and time again that he would support her through the pain and be there for their child's first breath. And yet, he had left for Accra without a word.

As the sun set over Tamale, Malik's father, Mba Azindow, emerged from his room with a walking stick in one hand. Spotting his wife Lamihi, he called out to her in their native language, Dagbani. Fatimatu be wula? he asked, inquiring about the well-being of his daughter-in-law.

Setting down the bowls she had been washing, Lamihi rose to her feet and replied, Alaafee. She is in labour now.

Without hesitation, Mba Azindow turned towards the door, his back to Lamihi, and declared, Well, you women know best about these things; I will leave you to it.

But before he could take another step, Lamihi stopped him in his tracks. Mba Azindow, before you leave, she began, her voice tinged with disappointment. May I ask why Malik left in such a hurry like that? He insisted on being there for Fatimatu. What happened? I am disappointed in him.

Mba Azindow was not one to be swayed by sentiment. Lamihi, forget about Malik and his wishful ideals, he scolded. Was I ever with you when you gave birth to our children? Pregnancy and childbirth are women's issues, and men have no business there. If you are disappointed as his mother, what about Fatimatu, the one he promised?

Undeterred, Lamihi persisted. But, Mba Azindow, did he tell you why he left like that? Malik has a mind of his own and would have kept his promise. Something serious might have happened, she suggested.

Mba Azindow let out a sigh of frustration. Malik left for an emergency meeting, he explained matter-of-factly. However, it is good to know Malik has learned his lesson not to promise to be where he has no business in the first place. With that, Mba Azindow walked out of the compound, his walking stick tapping against the ground before him.

Fatimatu paced back and forth; the pain was excruciating, and she wondered how she could endure it longer. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, asking Naawuni for mercy and support.

As if in answer to Fatimatu's prayers, a voice called out from the compound's entrance. Gaafara, it called.

Lamihi, who had been waiting in the compound, recognized the voice of the birth attendant and let out a sigh of gratitude before she hurried towards the entrance to greet her. Amaraaba, she replied, welcoming the attendant into her home with a smile.

The birth attendant sat down on the chair Lamihi provided her and apologized for the delay.  Where is our pregnant woman? she asked, eager to get to Fatimatu.

Lamihi got up from her seat and offered to lead the way.

Amid the excruciating pain, Fatimatu tried to remain silent, only letting out quiet moans and murmurs. She felt like her body was being torn apart.

But despite the agony, she held back her screams and tears, remembering the advice and warnings of her elders. In Dagbon tradition, it was believed that crying during labour could bring bad luck or harm to the baby.

Shhh, Naawuni, ooi Naawuni, hmmm, Fatimatu whispered to God. As she endured another sharp contraction, she saw the birth attendant and Lamihi approaching.

She could only nod in response to the birth attendant's Gaafara, seeking her permission to enter the room.

The room was silent except for Fatimatu's laboured breathing and the wandering hands of the birth attendant around her abdomen.

Suddenly, Fatimatu felt a wave of fear wash over her as she noticed the two women exchange looks as if they were communicating something she was not meant to know.

The birth attendant patted her shoulder and asked her to be strong. The two women left the room, leaving Fatimatu alone with her thoughts and fears.

Her mind drifted to Malik again, wondering what he was doing while she was in agony.

◆◆◆

In Accra, the PPR was still planning to prevent the military from overthrowing Nkrumah even though they were no match to the military in terms of numbers.

After attempting to contact the military for fifteen hours with no luck, it was clear that peaceful negotiation was no longer an option.

Malik stood still for a minute, looked his colleagues in the eyes, and said, I am afraid we must continue with plan B.      I know this is sudden and overwhelming, but we must do our best.

About two hours later, Malik returned to stand in the middle of the PPR emergency conference room with papers in his left hand.

Finally, having the attention of his comrades, he declared, The president does not support brutality to hold on to power. Neither does he want to force anyone to risk his life for him. Therefore, he demanded we each have the opportunity to fight for the continuity of his leadership and development of Ghana or walk out of this room without looking back. Malik watched around, taking in the tension in the room.

Malik gestured toward the papers in front of his colleagues and explained, The first page has five of our senior colleagues’ names, including mine.Write your name and sign if you are willing and determined to be part of the anti-coup group."

The PPR emergency conference room atmosphere was now charged with doubtful energy. All PPR members except four have signed to join the anti-coup group. The four members who chose not to join have also been close to His Excellency Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. So Malik was surprised to know they exempted themselves from the operation. Their refusal made Malik uneasy.

Despite Malik's anxiousness upon receiving the coup letter, he had been confident the PPR would resist and fight with a united front. But having crucial and trusted members opt out was different. His guts told him something was wrong, but he could not figure out what it was, which was frustrating. 

As the sun rose the following day, the anti-coup group had already mobilized and prepared for action.

Malik's thoughts were consumed with the coup, and the birth of his child in Tamale became a distant memory, lost in the urgency of the moment. Get ready to be in position. It is about time, Malik commanded his team. They nodded in agreement, all understanding the gravity of the situation.

They had rehearsed their movements and communication meticulously, but their safety hinged on flawless execution.

As they positioned themselves, Malik reminded himself of the stakes. This was not just about a political power struggle but Ghana's economic freedom and prosperity.

◆◆◆

Fatimatu was in the throes of labour as the birth attendant finally directed her to squat in the cement bathtub, and Lamihi stood by to offer support.

As the hours wore on, Fatimatu's exhaustion mounted. She had been pushing for what felt like an eternity, yet still, there was no sign of her baby. She gritted her teeth and tried once more, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to bring her child into the world.

In an instant, the room was filled with the sweet sound of a newborn's cry as Fatimatu's baby girl entered the world. The birth attendant beamed joyfully as she cradled the tiny bundle.

Congratulations, Fatimatu. You have delivered a beautiful baby girl, she announced.

Fatimatu let out a deep sigh of relief as the weight of the long hours of labour lifted from her shoulders.

As she gazed at her daughter, all the pain and exhaustion she had endured melted away, replaced by a fierce sense of love and protectiveness.

Fatimatu cradled her newborn daughter in her arms, knowing her life would never be the same again.

Malgu, a suburb of Tamale, has welcomed a new member into the community. Malik's father called for the community drama to come and beat the drum four times to announce the birth of the baby girl to the community. "

A child belongs to the whole community and not the parents," the drummer drummed after announcing the birth of the baby girl.

Malik’s father also sent his second sonto inform the head of Fatimatu’s family about the new family member.

◆◆◆

In Accra, the Ghana Radio Company (GRC) was announcing the military's victory in overthrowing the president of Ghana, Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, on the two o’clock news. According to the report, the military took over around noon today, February 28, 1966.

Many journalists and security