“Why…,” he paused looking up into the early morning sky with clouds hanging over the small village outside Aflao. Being seventy three years of age blessed with stable health his sharp eyes and sound mind had created in his dark brown eyes the reflection of his childhood. “Why did he do that?” His soft, smooth skin covering a longish created head with curly hair, stretched lips to form the center of his lower face part vital for his assignment in life, to speak out and teach the world, emerged this dawning time in sorrow and wrinkles. He was a great man standing out in his extended family like no one before, being a stony tree in the middle of uncertainty, darkness, promise and failure. Standing in front of Students his elegance of spoken words and wisdom accomplished by reading endless nights books and articles combined with hardship in life, made him truly an outstanding character cherished by the once that had a sense for Beauty of Life and progress in Humanity. Everyone with a sound mind praised his humble attitude in honour of his Creator to have given this world a special man to teach them.
She sat next to him, his second born child, a woman of great statue being important to Ghana. He knew her work was a great challenge, came with frustration where happiness and success was supposed to enlighten her days in the Office in Accra to drive Ghana into a better future. Her big glasses, her shining composure she never forgot to carry around even on private occasions, her slow walks, her passion for GOD’s words and works, her well designed female attributes, her weekly changing hair style and African Print of all imaginal shapes and sizes made her look like a black Lady that could have been walking in the Castles of England with dignity and grace like in the olden days of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. She loved her Father so much. Her heart was closer to him, than to her mother. While her Father had a triangle face, bushy eye brows, little fingers ending his big hands, a contradiction to what was expected from a Professor of Sociology, she assembled her Mother’s feature. Carrying her Father’s Spirit in her heart, she had developed herself into an own independent personality. Under pain and years of suffering she had given birth to a beautiful Baby girl, Princess Katharina, wishing for a second child, a Baby Boy. The girl’s child was a retired solder, no wonder Princess had inherited the spirit to bossy her peers around whenever and wherever possible, yet carrying the grace of her mother around no matter where she appeared. In her little life she had a Candyman, someone that loved her knowing about the sweet side of the little, adorable girl.
Professor Dumor was a wise man, mostly, like all wise men in the little things in life, childish making jokes and fun of everything that came across his way. Grey hair had made him even more of a man with innocent heart that did not know that words and gestures can hurt others simply wanting to enjoy life to the fullest being it too short to miss the blessings life has to offer but blinding oneself with a curtain of tears.
During the last years he had observed that President John Dramani Mahama did not have any much needed vision what so ever, but was a humble and kind Man lacking to understand the Basics of Politics like all other Politicians in Ghana essential to move the country forward. While wasting the time of a whole Generation of Ghanaians, he found it impossible to priorities the needs of his people to use the small available money wisely. Ghana was in a big mass, his soul and spirit told him with, no way out from within.
Wind blow, a clear warning sign rain might set in at any moment. They were sitting for breakfast outside on the Veranda which he had built with his own hands while he was young. After retirement Professor Dumor had left the Family Residence in Adabraka, close to the Circle in Accra to spend his restless retirement in Volta Region, the place of his Family for Generations past. His daughter Mawuena, married to Pastor Trebarh, had served the early Sunday morning Tea and Coffee with bread and eggs as her late mother always used to do before setting off walking a few minutes to their nearby Pentecostal Church to worship GOD.
Mawuena had to travel a lot around the world. The moments with her beloved Father were scarce a reason for her to even enjoy them and treasure them more than ever not knowing when these moments of tranquility and life reflection would come to an end. Josephine, the younger sister of Professor Dumor, had joined them that morning. She was a Lady in her best rights carrying herself like a Grand Dame with grace like her niece. The face was well proportioned, her eyes filled with an ocean of life stories and wisdom, right information, about life. Aunty Josephine was that kind of woman anybody meeting her for the first time would love to embrace and feel the privilege of holding her for a few moments in his arms. Peace of mind, a warm feeling surrounded her, yet she was a simple person that had experienced all possible pains life has to offer.
“Why? Oh, GOD why”, Professor Dumor repeated again holding his Sister’s hands to his right and his daughter’s hand to his left. Tears filled his voice. He looked down. Steamy hot Coffee and Chocolate Drinks aromas assembled over the light blue Plastic Breakfast Table in a bubble, a delight for any Morning Feast, while he was feeling in his heart the not ending question:” GOD, if I only would be able to understand why two years ago you took my son too soon from us. Komla had just entered in his forties, a brilliant Journalist with BBC….”
Mawuena pressed the hand of her Father saying quietly with a tender voice:” Nobody of us knows what GOD has in his mind. We must have faith in him that only he knows what he is doing and pray always to him for our salvation that in our family raise and failure will come to an end.”
“I know, I always wanted him to become a Medical Doctor,” Professor Dumor lamented regretting to have given his late son hard times for many years. “When he became a Journalist and I realized how much people enjoyed his work and the impact he had on them…my heart was at ease.”
Mawuena looked at him, her eyes wide open, her round shaped lips closed, her back upright. Waves of understanding and her warm heart made her whisper:” Father, Komla knows your good heart and the hard times you had given him are long time forgotten. For all of us he was a shining star in our family and an inspiration. As we remember his passing today in Church, we all know he is still with us and teaches us what he always did while he was in London.”