GROWING UP IN A SMALL AFRICAN VILLAGE

Over the last several weeks I have spent time recollecting how we led our life at Mpintimpi, the tiny village in Ghana where I was born and bred

Recalling and recreating events that happened over forty years ago was a challenging task. The experience aroused different types of emotions in me. There were times when I was amused about some of the things I went through and laughed out loud! There were other instances when, surprised by what I had done in the past, I exclaimed: "Could you really have done that!" On the other hand there were moments when I was so touched, yes, when I was overcome by my emotions and could barely hold my tears back.

The end result or my efforts is the book, GROWING UP IN A SMALL AFRICAN VILLAGE, which has just been published. Originally conceived as a single edition, it has, following requests to supply some schools in Ghana, ended up in three different versions—a General, an Abridged and a Children's Edition. The last two editions are meant for the Secondary and Primary Schools respectively.

GROWING UP IN A SMALL AFRICAN VILLAGE is a ‘must read’, not only because it is entertaining, but because the proceeds from the sale of the book will go towards the establishment of a hospital in Ghana—a hospital that will be called THE CHRIST KING HOSPITAL which will provide cheap medical care for the poor and destitute of society.

Copies of each of the three editions can be obtained either directly from me, or from any leading bookshop, both traditional and online.

Those wishing to donate money to help with the Hospital Project may do so by clicking on the Ministry Support button of the thankyoujesus.co.uk website. For further details concerning the book and also the proposed hospital, please contact me. Contact details will be found on the website.

Chapter 1
APOLLO 11 WRESTS HAVOC
ON THE STREETS OF TINY MPINTIMPI

IN THE MIDDLE OF 1969 a highly contagious eye disease began to afflict not only residents of the little village but also the population of Ghana as a whole. Reports even spoke of the disease having spread to other countries in West Africa. Though several years ago, I recall the typical symptoms of the disease—a red, painful and itchy eye. The moment an individual in a household was afflicted, it was just a matter of days if not hours before it spread to the other inhabitants.

Readers might recall that the Apollo 11 mission landed on the moon on 20th July 1969. The eye disease, coming hard on the heels, as it were, after the time of the Apollo 11 landing on the moon, led to rumours spreading throughout Ghana (and probably beyond) to the effect that the crew of that historic mission brought the disease back with them on their return from the moon! Subsequently, the eye disease, which was later christened acute hemorrhagic conjunctivitis, AHC for short, by the medical experts and said to be caused by the AHC virus, came to be known as ‘Apollo 11’! Almost every resident of our village fell victim to what to us was a mysterious eye disease. Fortunately, the disease vanished the way it came, without leaving lasting scars on its victims.

The eye infection coinciding with the Apollo 11 mission helped to raise the awareness of the villagers of the mission and at the same time help nurture all kinds of rumours and speculations within the predominantly illiterate population as to the motive behind the mission.

“The Americans have plans to settle on the moon in future!” someone claimed.

“The Americans have plans to install a bomb on the moon from where they can hit the Russians!” another rumour had it.

Mother contributed to the debate in her own way.

“Who can take me to those responsible for the mission to the moon?”

she began.

“What do you want from them?” one of her children inquired.

“I want to discuss one or two issues with them!”

“What, then?”

“I want to tell them to their face my own opinion of their undertaking.”

“What will you tell them?”

“It will be plain speaking, very plain speaking. I will begin like this: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? I hail from a very little village with the difficult to pronounce name, Mpintimpi. In our village, our children die from want of good drinking water. We have no hospital near us. Worse still, the road linking us to the distant hospital is in such a bad state, the sick are so shaken in the vehicles transporting them, some die before they get there. Time will not allow me to list all our woes. The village dwellers have learnt that you are extremely wealthy. Your wealth has enabled you to venture to the moon. Could you please be merciful to us, honourable ladies and gentlemen, and help us develop our village? Please do something for us before we die in our poverty.’”

“No one will listen to you, mother! They will tell you that matters in regard to the development of your village do not fall within their sphere of responsibility. You would be better advised to bring your needs before the Government in Accra than waste money, time and energy to travel the distance to America to bother them with your problems.”

“I would refuse to allow them to send me away with such arguments. No, never!”

“What else could you do?”

“‘Wait a moment, ladies and gentlemen,’ I would hit back, ‘we share the same planet, we breathe the same air, we all suffer when the vehicles stuffing your streets pollute the atmosphere. Even more recently all the residents of my village have been suffering as a result of your mission to the moon. Look at my eyes, ladies and gentlemen! You notice how red they have turned? I am suffering from the ‘Apollo 11’ eye disease your people brought back with them from the moon!’”

They would say “How can you prove, old woman, that our mission has anything, directly or indirectly, to do with your eye disease?”

“Ah, you children of today! Never since the time of our forefathers has there been such an outbreak in our peaceful village. Take it from me, your people brought it with them!”

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