Love In Busanga

The Big News

* * *

Dzifa! Dzifa!! Dzifa!!!... it was about the seventh time, coming from two loud 'parrots', for that was how the students call them, that made woke her senses; otherwise, she was absentminded on the road. Now, everyone on the lane that linked the classroom blocks' area to the Statue Circle was worried. How couldn't she have heard the two ladies the very first time at that distance? What about the many calls from other colleague students? Is she really okay? What could possibly occupy the rather calm and collected lady of twenty-six years? What could be worrying the only daughter of the Principal of St. Peter's College of Education?

Dzifa stopped absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on the purple hibiscuses that lined up this lane. She turned slowly towards Ampomaah and Rukeiya - her two best friends. She not call them 'parrots' outwardly as other students do but inwardly, she knew she was in trouble this late afternoon. The blazing sun had just found its way beyond the woods in the distance and the sky was cloudily yellow. Dzifa knew exactly what these two ladies were going to do. They query with almost the same strings of words almost at the same time or one repeats after the other ,her words, as if they had rehearsed to speak in that manner.

"Hey, what's wrong?", came the chorus;

" Do not..." , by Ampomaah;

"...even think of...", by Rukeiya; and

"... saying your usual NOTHING", by both of them in meticulously quick succession.

This was what confuses Dzifa most. How a lady from Tumu area, far northwest of Was, the northernmost end of the country, could have such striking semblance in character and speech with Ampomaah, from the Asante kingdom down south , still baffled her. Rukeiya speaks Tumulung Sisaala and she is a Muslim. Ampomaah is from Ejisu, a descendant of the great Yaa Asantewaa. She was born in Tema where Mr. Kwakye , her father worked. She schooled at Agogo, where her father was transferred and now, she is in the Volta Region with her family again. They were being trained to become teachers. They were in their first year , second semester, chasing a three-year diploma in basic education certificate.

* * *

Dzifa was already on campus when the fresh students arrived. Her father was the principal of the college and they lived in a very spacious bungalow. The other bungalows were not this spacious. Some even had two tutors sharing a bungalow with their families. But her father would not allow her to stay at home to attend classes.

"Go and stay in the hostel. Rev. Sis. Danku will get you a bed and show you where to keep your belongings."

"But Papa, ... I need to take care of Mawuena ..."

"Shut up!" he growled. "You will only come to this bungalow on Sunday after morning mass to was his clothes. You will go back immediately after that ..."

"Papa, I am sorry... but I need to get the required..."

"Your mother has everything you need. Now, go pack your belongings and leave my house."

Dzifa knew there was no way she was going to convince those determined eyes of Mr. Klutse. She went about packing her things like the refugee that she had become in the past six years in her own home. She was first shipped to the Teshie Military Academy (details in a moment). At this time should only miss her son, the pride of her love. A love shared across boundaries. A youthful love that knew no danger, no warning and no consequences.

As she laid on her bed the following day's afternoon, the words invade her thoughts;

"...I love you so much and you better believe it. I am not sure if I deserve your love but I know you deserve my heart. Give me all the five kingdoms of the north and I would still be your servant. I will love you not because you love me but because I know you will never leave me; I know you will never disappoint me..." * * * footsteps* * *

Then came these two ladies- Ampomaah and Rukeiya. Like how twins were said to be born , the more reserved of the two, Rukeiya asked Ampomaah to enter the dormitory and check it out. She entered with her brown leather bag and placed at the entrance.

"No one is inside", she sighed.

" It looks like they are all in the dining room."

"Are they all that hungry?"

"Ain't you hungry?"

They continued with the chattering as they packed their belongings at the other side of the lockers while Dzifa laid wondering if they came from the same senior high school. The lockers separate the long dormitory into two equal halves.

"Where is my key?"

"My locker is #3."

"Mine is #4."

"These lockers are...let me see...#10,#9,#8,#7,#6...finish!"

"Finished, how come?"

"Your lockers are at this side ", Dzifa called out weakly. The ladies were startled.

" Didn't you say no one was inside?" Rukeiya whispered.

"Sister, we are sorry for not greeting you..."

"We are also sorry for disturbing your sleep this hot afternoon", Rukeiya added.

" I am also a fresh student like you so you can stop calling me 'sister".

"Okay , I am Ampomaah"

"Call me Dzifa"

"And I am Ruky"

"I don't think you needed to mention your names because you girls were screaming your names over there"

They started laughing out loud. Before the others returned from eating lunch , "the three musketeers", as they would later be known and called, packed everything into the lockers. Each locker has two cabins for two students. Rukeiya was sharing a locker with Dzifa but by the end of that month, Ampomaah had packed her things into locker #4. Not even the second year students could stop that irregularity. The three had formed a bond at first sight and it was divine. A bond made from the heavens , they say. A love that flourished on sheer open-minded convocation, or so it looked. A rare love binding an Ewe, a Sisaala and an Asante ,destined to be in the same dormitory and same class. Initially, people doubted such friendship: different religious backgrounds, different ethnic cultures and very different social classes. Ampomaah's family had a very conservative Catholic practitioner leading them from town to town. Dzifa's family is a Pentecostal one. A strict father with a severe look. A 'no nonsense' man who punishes every mistake severely. Rukeiya came from a traditional Sisaala home and trained in the words of the Prophet. She had never left her people until she became twenty-one.

Indeed, the three musketeers just decided to learn ,to flow ,to be free and they were determined to make very good use of their freedom. For the first time ,Dzifa was thankful for her father's decision to send her to the boarding house.

* * *

They walked slowly towards the statue of St. Peter. Dzifa sat sadly on the stairs that led to the foot of the great statue - the symbol of a great teacher training college. They sat beside her. She was deeply breathing in thoughts.

"Did you hear what Mr. Gidi said during the Social Studies lesson today?"

"What did he say?", Ampomaah quizzed forgetfully.

" And what about it?", Rukeiya queried calmly.

"Ruky, you are from the northern part of this nation and you should be concerned."

"Aaaah, okay I get it now...but I remember he said it is not that bad , is it ?

" This conflict started from Saturday and for three days it has not ended...The Konkombas and the Nanumbas are old foes. Disregard the news that it was a fight over the buying and selling of guinea fowl in Saboba market. That young man's death might have been the last straw that broke the carmel's back but the main issue has been there for centuries. The Konkombas claim they are the original owners of the land. They claimed the Nanumbas , together with other tribesmen of the Mossi-Dagomba dynasty overwhelmed them with their number centuries ago and took their lands from them..."

"How did you know this?", Rukeiya cut in.

" Hmm, if the conflict is not ended as at today , the quantum of casualties will be severe. In fact, I do not foresee the war ending in the next week or two and that means a lot of villages are going to be burnt down..."

"Wait, it is not yet a war and the military are going to bring peace to the region", Ampomaah said worriedly.

" As far as I am concerned , many people will not survive this tribal bigotry. Something must be done quickly. "

"Yes, what you are saying might be true but why are you worried so much about this conflict?" Rukeiya quipped.

"I must see today's seven o'clock news on television at the Great Hall. I should hear something about it since it's Monday."

"Sure, but that does not answer why you are so much agitated at the news of the conflict ", came the chorus.

It was 4pm when they entered the Love Triangle. It was a magnificent garden with some forget-me-not and mango trees. Flowers and well trimmed hedges separate the trees in triangular shapes. Hibiscus, roses, carnations, lilies and orchids give off their sweet scents and beauty. This was where lovers meet to chit-chat. The lane to the administration block was opposite this garden. Behind the garden was the lane to the ladies' hostels. To the right of the Love Triangle was the Statue Circle and to its left was the main gate or 'Elephant Gate' as it was mostly called. Everything on this approximately thirty by eighty square metre garden is planted in triangular shape so much so that the area deserved the name " Love Triangle". And at this material moment, Dzifa had to take her two best friends to this particular location. She had to recollect her love story. A story she constantly felt within but never talked about it. A forbidden story in the house of Mr. Kwakye , or so it seemed. Her love affair in the region of Busanga.

"Let me get us some snacks ", Rukeiya suggested. She knew they were up for something else. The look on Dzifa's face revealed she was worried and at the same time excited about telling them this story. Both ladies knew Dzifa was about revealing something they never heard. They knew about Mawuena. They knew his father is a northerner. What they never thought of was that the Ewe family lived in the north for six years.

Rukeiya handed Coca Cola to Ampomaah and Sprite to Dzifa. She had two oranges for herself. There was a big short -bread for all three to eat. The seats were triangular with a stump of a wood in the middle which held their snacks.

" Yes, we are all yours. Surprise us again", Rukeiya settled on her seat.

An intriguing love story which is beyond all ethnic and religious borders it was:

Dzifa was in the first year of her second cycle education. Her father was transferred to Jirapa Senior High School. She had to finish her General Science course in this school. Their journey to the north of the country was really an adventurous one. Mr. Klutse was promoted to head this senior high school and he had to move from the coastal city of Keta through the forest vegetation cover of Ashanti and beyond ; into the Sahel Savannah and the plains of the Busanga region, the biggest region of the country. A region with so many culture diversities : many tribal dialects of Busanga, Kusasi, Gurma, Vagala, Dagomba, Mamprusi, etc. Decimating the Tamale-Saboba-Jirapa plains is the Volta river with its biggest tributary, River Oti. On this vast plain are dotted hills. On one of these few hills is founded Jirapa Senior High School, the oldest senior high school in the northern part of the country. The school on the hill. The hill of knowledge and excellence. The eastern part of the hill lies the confluence town on the River Volta and River Oti basin - Saboba. Between the school and the Saboba township are trees of different species intentionally established by the Ghana Forestry Commission as a plan to save the dying out of river bodies in the savannah region , thereby preventing desertification which was fast approaching from the Republic of Burkina Faso, Ghana's neighbour to the north. Teak and mahogany trees lined up the road from the school ,down the meandering slope onto the pene-plain of the Oti river, which also terminates into the River Volta at Saboba. It was a delighting sight to sit in the Samori Gardens - for so it was named after the dreaded giant of a slave raider - to be greeted by the breeze coming from these two rivers in the distance. On a bright evening ,one sees the reflection of the moon on the rivers as sparkles of diamonds. From a distance of about ten kilometres, Saboba looks much lively ,just like Keta and Dzifa always love to sit in this garden to the chagrin of Uthman. He did not want to be seen with the headmaster's daughter and so prefers it down the Saboba road , where they ran through the woods.

The westside of the hill is the Jirapa township. Its market days were every fifth day. It is not that large like the Saboba market which comes a day after Jirapa market day. Very popular in these markets are fresh water fishes, guinea fowls, yams, millets, tomatoes, sorghums ,smocks, cattle and many other food crops and livestock. Tamale was the administrative capital town of the region but Saboba had been the traditional capital of the whole Mossi-Dagomba kingdom. It was the paramount seat of the overlord of the kingdom. These people had outnumbered other tribes such as Vagala, Kusasi and Konkomba put together. The whole region was ruled, traditionally, from Saboba. Every chief in every town or village was supposed to pay homage to the Saboba throne. However, the Konkomba chiefs together with their people would not bow to the king of Saboba. This had been the case for centuries and though they farmed on same lands, drunk from same streams , breathed and lived in the same space, they knew that they had ancient scores to settle. Colonialism and modernity might have changed their old ways of doing some things but they did not change the hot bad blood between a people who had been marrying women from each other and breeding offsprings of mixed bloods. These people lived on a huge timed bomb. The ugly side of ethnic egoism was laid in the womb of time ,just as it had been in other lands.

* * *

Uthman was among the boys that worked on Mr. Klutse's farm on Saturday mornings. While other students work on the school's fields or farms , they work on the headmaster's farm. Others students are not fed for working on the fields or farms until they go for food from the school's canteen. Students who work on teacher's farms are fed well and they also have their food reserved at the canteen for them. Whenever she sent food to the boys on the farm , Dzifa realized that some speak Konkomba , others speak Dagomba which is a similar variant of the Nanumba dialect. She wanted to speak all these languages but did not know how. She was not allowed to have friends. According to her father, they were very far away from home and what that meant was no real person to take as friends. She was a sprinter in the school's athletic team but cannot make friends. Her elder brothers did not come with them. Sedem and Elikem were in the prestigious University of Cape Coast. She wondered if they would also be given same edict had they come up north with them. Presently, she was the eldest in the house and had to set an excellent example for her younger brothers, Fafali and Senam. However, Dzifa was fascinated about the culture of the people. So many different tribesmen in one community. So many things to learn,especially the languages.

"I had always wanted to speak as many languages as I came into contact with", Dzifa revealed.

" That explained why you are so fluent in Ga and Krobo", Rukeiya agreed.

Dzifa saw Uthman as the one who could teach her the languages because he did not laugh at her idea. She admired his stature too.

"He was tall...muscular... handsome...very strong...and a very determined sprinter", Dzifa said excitedly.

Whenever they met at the school's athletic training or on her father's yam farm, he seized the opportunity to teach her few Konkomba words. Then, the words developed into few sentences. In time, they did not only learn but also talked about their courses , funny teachers and not too friendly ones. They recalled funny moments in their respective classes and not too pleasant ones. They also related to each other their challenging course. Dzifa got to know that Uthman was not too good at mathematics so she offered to help him with the course.

" He was very intelligent. I realized he was just disadvantaged at the village he was schooled ", Dzifa said admittedly.

So it was, they secretly admired each other , both afraid to expressively show that they loved each other. Uthman was afraid of his headmaster getting to know of their affair and what that meant for his education. His father was the chief of Subeiya , a village in a clove along an obsequent tributary to the Oti river. He was the only son who was fit to take over from the throne of Subeiya. Naa Kompi had six sons from three wives. The other five sons of the chief were borne by women from a Nanumba clan and that, according to tradition, disqualified them from ascending the throne. After having brought forth four sons, elders of the village reminded the chief one morning of the need for Amina to bear him a son or the throne was going to be lost to the other clan. They reiterated that that by their customs, no son of Hubeida and Rashidatu , daughters of their oppressors, was to be named heir to the Subeiya throne; let alone ascend it. They prayed that Amina's pregnancy turned out to be a boy and so it was. The birth of Uthman brought much joy to the elders and the entire village. The mud palace of Naa Kompi was whitewashed and the totems of the clan neatly designed on the walls. The thatched huts of his wives were renovated. Five cattle were slaughtered for the naming ceremony. At the time, many people did not fully understand the motive behind the celebration. What they knew was that another son of the chief had to be celebrated in grand style and having become richer in the past few years, the chief decided to organise such an elegant naming ceremony. As the boy grew, he was sent to school just like his other siblings but Naa Kompi took a personal interest in Uthman's development , especially when his wives , including Amina were delivered of girls after Uthman. When it became clear to him that Uthman might his only hope of rescuing his throne for the clan, he encouraged him learn hard, to go higher than he did. He took him away from strenuous farm works to make him concentrate on his books. Uthman's elder brothers did not pass their basic education examination so they did gain admission into any senior secondary school but he did pass and gained admission into the best second cycle school the region. Now that he was eighteen, his father had plans to coronate him the heir apparent to his throne. He could not afford to disappoint his father because he had sacrificed a lot for him; the most was the displeasing eyes of his two wives and disaffection from their children. They saw him as bias and unjust and that weighed heavily on him.

Dzifa was afraid of his father. He had postulated on countless times that they were Christians and that most people at this part of the country Muslims and that none of his children would have nothing to do with Muslims. Later, he relaxed his archaic assertion ( as Dzifa noticed) when he got to know that the people were not that bad after all as people down south used to discuss. Nevertheless, his decree would not be violated; for, he never relented on punishing anyone who challenged his edicts. When her father went for meetings in Tamale or Accra ; when he would spend about three days , Dzifa was happy. She had the chance to see Uthman without having to carefully and constantly watching her back. They would go to Jirapa township, especially the market. They would also visit Saboba market. One day , they visited the graves of Samori and Babatu; the two most fearful slave raiders in the history of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade.

Dzifa noticed that the communities had different divisions of people. The streets were well demarcated to show which tribe stayed on which street. The huts on a particular street shows a particular tribe with a distinct language or even dialect from the tribe opposite that street. She realized that the common medium of communication was in Gonja language which was the dominant language in the region. Each street had its own mosque. The few church buildings were also established on the streets where the tribesmen were converted to that denomination. Within a few months, Dzifa had started speaking three different languages. She started with Gonja, then learnt the Konkomba language and started the Nanumba variant of the Gonja language. She quickly started showing her prowess at speaking most of the languages around the Jirapa-Saboba district even though the indigenes laughed at her when she spoke. She took solace in the fact they could not speak Ewe as how she spoke their languages.

* * *

This new academic year promised to be highly competitive in terms of inter schools' sports. Jirapa Senior Secondary School were the runners up in the last events. They had been champions so many years and were miraculously unseated by a rival school. Preparations towards the competition was intense as the new head of administration would not accept to be second at anything he did. To Mr. Klutse, being second was as good as being the last. He was not going to start his administration on a losing note. He was brought to the north, to this school because of one reason - his track records in educational administration. He was one of the best administrators in the country and that must stay. He called the school's accountant and other school management personnel to an emergency meeting to discuss the best ways to support the school's sports teams. They were to be put on special diet and that means they would not eat what other students take at the dining hall.

Dzifa and Uthman met frequently after training sessions to talk briefly (according to the their initial plans). They mostly had to run; Dzifa, to the headmaster's bungalow as Uthman naturally watched on and then he to his dormitory. One Thursday evening training session, they both agreed to meet at Samori Gardens after super. It was their last rigorous training and the competitions start the next Monday. She quickly went through her evening routine and dressed up for evening uniform. Within minutes ,she was in the garden in her all white dress. Uthman was watching as she moved towards their favourite seat, the one that gave them the full gift of viewing the rivers. He was behind some trees. An innocent angel in the light of the dark. Glowing and gleaming in sparkles of the heavenly witnesses. A rare gem of beauty. Light skin diva with perfectly- knitted teeth. The moon and stars reflect the rain water on the flowers onto her body and her eyes sparkled splints of joy as she moved wondering where her prince was - a prince she did not know was actually one. She was about to sit under a mango tree to wait for her prince. He came from behind as quietly as air. This time , he did not wait for her to sit because he knew she would look back. He was following her, stepping as she stepped so she did not hear any other footstep. He held her waist ,turned her towards him and started rattling out the words; startling her in the process:

" Wherever you go i will go, Dzifa. I don't want to leave you because I love you so much and you better believe it. I am not sure if I deserve your love but I know you deserve my heart. Give me all the five kingdoms of the north and I would still be your servant. I will love you not because you love me but because I know you will never leave me; I know you will never disappoint me. I blessed Allah for bringing you up north. I would never have been complete. "

Both started freezing under the breeze from the rivers in the distant.

"I knew I had fallen in love with him but that evening , I was tripping in love him. I was just crazy that evening. Every word and every touch made me tremble. Never felt anything like that, never experienced love to that level. I look up into his eyes and told him weakly that I loved him too and I knew I wanted him to kiss me so much that I held one of his red jacket so I could not fall when he finally did. I thought it took him forever to kiss me. I thought I had finally landed on a different planet. Every tissue of my muscles was reverberating. I went to bed after that kiss. I could not go to class for my private studies. I could concentrate on nothing. The images were all over my mind. His overpowering height; his ever protective broad shoulders and the eternal two stripes of his tribal mark on the left cheek. I thought I was one of the tallest girls down south but as a typical Konkomba male, he was so huge yet tender. He was fairer than I was and so was his tribesmen. His new dark beards sparkled under the moonlight. He knew he had to clear those dark sparkles soon before any teacher noticed it. At the moment , I was enjoying everything.