Somewhere in early 2017, I finished work at KNUST and decided to go pray at the Great Hall, under Focus FM. The current Mosque behind the Faculty of Law wasn’t ready yet.
It was around 8 – 9 PM.
When I arrived, there was a young man sitting there.
“Salaam alaikum.”- I greeted him with Arabic phrase
“Wa alaikum salaam wa rahmatullahi yaa ahi.”-he replied with Arabic sentence.
“Eiii, ay3 ka.”
I thought to myself.
Arabic slangs paa. What else can I say with my “Ana, me. Anta, you” that I learned from Ustaz at Wamfie?
Mmboe!
I am aware of the Quranic verse that says “when someone greets you, respond with a better greetings or at least a response of same measure”. So when I greeted him with “Peace be upon you,” and he responded with “And upon you be peace and the mercy of God, oh my brother”, I was not that surprised. I knew where he was coming from.
What struck me was the last part of his response: “Yaa ahi.” (oh brother). Normally, you only find people who know Arabic adding that to their response.
The “Yaa ahi” is used in many scenarios just like how in Ghana we use “Charley” in almost everything.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I asked him.
“Not really. I need a place to sleep.”- he said.
“Eii, you need a place to sleep? How? Why?” I asked him.
“I came from Gambia because of the civil war. I had to run away and come to Ghana. So I don’t know anyone.”
“What?! When? How? Why? How did you find yourself at KNUST here at this time?” I asked him.
“I came with my certificate. I want to attend school.”- he said.
“Asem no ay3 ka,” I said to myself.
Everything sounded like a dream to me. Here was a gentleman, about half my size, whose accent exposed him as non Ghanaian before he even spoke. And we was nicely dressed in hardship.
I kept asking him “unnecessary questions,” but the reality was that he first needed a place to sleep. And even before that, maybe, a food to eat.
“Where is your bag? Come, let’s go,” I told him.
We went to Tech Junction, picked a trotro, and headed to Ahwia-Overseas, where I was living (perching) at the time.
We bought food and ate, he bathed, and we went back to the roadside.
I don’t remember exactly why I didn’t have a laptop with me that night. It might have been that my laptop had broken or I had left it at the office. Normally, when I close late, I leave the laptop at the office because if you get home around 10 PM and have to go back to the roadside before 6 AM, there’s nothing to do in between. Carrying the laptop home would just be a waste of strength, a strength that was already in short supply because me a na ma ye shi.
I asked if his family had heard from him since he left home two weeks ago. He said no, no one had heard from him.
He had no phone and no telephone number.
I asked if he was on Facebook, and he said yes.
So I sent him to an internet café to send messages to his family. He logged in and informed his brother, who was on his friends list, to let his parents know that he had reached Ghana safely and was in good health.
We came back and talked about the civil war in Gambia (The Gambia) and his vision to attend school.
Now, to refresh our minds a little bit, here’s a piece of info about the Gambian crisis. It wasn’t actually a civil war but a constitutional crisis that nearly resulted in one. Those who could flee the country did: as fast as their minds could direct them.
Some of his brothers went to other countries. As to why he decided to come to Ghana—Kumasi—KNUST specifically, only God and this article can explain.
But before that, let’s take a quick commercial break at the Wikipedia summer hut, Wamfie.
In December 2016, The Gambia experienced a major political crisis. The challenger, Adama Barrow, won the presidential election against long-time leader Yahya Jammeh. Initially, Jammeh accepted the results but then changed his mind and refused to leave office. He tried to get the Supreme Court to overturn the results but was unsuccessful.
Jammeh then sent troops to key cities and used emergency powers to stay in power. The UN and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) urged him to step down. When Jammeh ignored these calls, ECOWAS sent troops from Senegal, Nigeria, and Ghana to intervene.
Barrow was sworn in as President in the Senegalese embassy on January 19. On January 21, ECOWAS troops reached the Gambian capital, Banjul, and Jammeh fled to Equatorial Guinea. Barrow returned to The Gambia on January 26 as the new President. It wasn’t only Jammeh that fled. Many citizens did. And one was sleeping right by my side.
Welcome back from the commercial break.
Now, let’s get back to what I mentioned before the break: why he decided to come to Ghana and KNUST specifically, without having a penny in his pocket—just his Gambian WASSCE certificate.
As for how he even managed to get to Ghana without a penny, that’s another story altogether. But the important thing is, he’s finally in Ghana, at KNUST. To me, eno be surprise cos my own sister had done that before. From Niger all the way to Ghana, without kapre. And she wasn’t alone, she was bringing her 3 children to come and school in Ghana. In fact, my brother had travelled without a penny too, many times. All he need is small money to take car from Wamfie. That way, you will not know that he has no money.
He can alight at Berekum and do paawopaa for like 3 days. Then he will get money to continue to say Techiman. At Techiman, he will do another hustling (paawopaa or by day in someone’s farm for like a week) to get money that can take him say Bolgatanga. At Bolga, he will go do either Gold galamsey or salt galamsey. Wherever he gets enough work to do, becomes his destination.
Anyway, back to the Gambia man.
According to him, once upon a time, when he was in primary school, their English teacher was a Ghanaian who attended KNUST. The teacher spoke so highly of KNUST that it impressed him, and he resolved that if he ever had the opportunity to study outside Gambia, it would definitely be KNUST.
The unfortunate part was that his results weren’t good enough to get him into KNUST. For that to happen, he might have to retake WASSCE or do it privately. But it was early days yet.
We were both tired. So we slept.
The next day, we went to campus, and I sent him to the hostel behind Katanga, where the Gambian international students live.
They welcomed him and got him accommodation for about a week or two.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t attend KNUST. There were two reasons: his results weren’t good enough, and he couldn’t afford the fees even if he had good grades and an admission offer.
According to the other Gambian students I spoke with, to be an international student in Ghana, two things must happen:
You must be on scholarship OR Your family member must have jakpa and living in obimanso.
None of that applied to my new “ahi”.
To cut things short, when everything settled in Gambia, the international students contributed and sent him back to Gambia.
My last meeting with him was on a Friday. After Jumu’ah, we exchanged pleasantries, and I bade him farewell.
“I wish you well” – I told him.
I look around if I can find a pady that can take us a picture and send to me later. I could not find. I was using some yam phone then.
God is my witness: I said to myself: “This dude will be big man some day. I wish I can get a picture of us and keep. So that one day when he becomes a big figure in the world, I will use the picture to collect my samba”
Few months later, I tried to check on him by sending him a message on Facebook.
“I am in Morocco now,” he replied months later.
“What?! When? How? Why?” I foolishly asked the same question I had asked when I first met him at the Great Hall foyer.
“I have come to study Islam. Thank you so much for everything you did for me. I have never met a person like you before in my life,” he said.
I wished him well.
Things were tough for him in Morocco—no money for food or books.
I tried to assist, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find a way to send my taku to Morocco.
We continued to communicate, but later, communication ceased.
A year or two later,
“I am in Egypt,” he sent me a WhatsApp message.
“What?! When? How? Why?” I asked, repeating my foolish questions once again.
“I got a scholarship in Morocco to study at Al-Azhar University, Egypt,” he replied.
At this point, I was in awe. I wholeheartedly agreed that this young man was ambitious than Amadu Zabarma.
Amadu Zabarma was born in 1914, and around the age of 17, he left Niger, crossing the desert with no money, water, or food. He settled in different countries before landing in Ghana, where he stayed around Drobo for some time. He later moved south and eventually settled at Wamfie, never returning to Niger. He passed away on the morning of August 12, 1996. I was in Primary 2 at the time.
We were doing early morning mental when my sister came to call me: “Baaba is dead” – she said.
If you’re a student of history, you’ll know that 1914 was the beginning of the First World War. That’s the exact year Amadu Zabarma was born, with about +-1 error margin.
On his naming day, military men came to the house and forcibly recruited all the able-bodied men into compulsory service. The naming ceremony was abruptly cut short. They named him quickly and shared the meat, but they did not have time to prepare any food.
Around age 17, Amadu Zabarma left home without informing anyone. But they had a tip off. His father followed him in the desert. He saw his father from a distance and he managed to climb a big boaboab tree. His father came and stood under the free for a minute.
With no traces of his son, “I wish him well”- he said and went back home.
Amadu Zabarma got down and started his journey of no return.
Back to the man in Egypt, Amadu Zabarma re-incarnate.
In case it’s your first time hearing about Al-Azhar University, here’s a curated info from Wikipedia:
Al-Azhar University, located in Cairo, Egypt, is a prestigious public institution established by the Fatimid Caliphate around 970 or 972. It is the oldest degree-granting university in Egypt and holds a prominent position as a center for Islamic learning worldwide. Originally focused on Islamic studies, including the Qur’an, Islamic law, logic, grammar, and astronomy, Al-Azhar expanded its curriculum in 1961 to include non-religious subjects. The university oversees a vast network of schools across Egypt, educating approximately two million students and maintaining affiliations with over 4,000 teaching institutes. Its library, highly significant and second only to the Egyptian National Library and Archives, houses a rich collection of rare manuscripts. In 2005, Al-Azhar launched the Al-Azhar Online Project in collaboration with Dubai’s IT Education Project (ITEP), aiming to digitize and make accessible its extensive collection of manuscripts, which spans around seven million pages.
In summary, Al-Azhar is arguably the leading center for Islamic studies in the world now.
Later, I saw his WhatsApp status where he went back to Gambia with some NGO. I think they are working on a health project there. That was about two years ago.
Yesterday, it occurred to me to check on him again. I sent him a WhatsApp message but haven’t received a reply yet.
I have prepared another foolish “Ah, How? Why? When” again waiting for his reply. I know his new location will be another “What a haly”. In Shall Allahu!
But before that reply, let me ask you this: If there were a coup in Ghana, where will you flee to?
If there were a coup in Ghana, where will you flee to?