I toddled into a throng of people in a familiar space. I don’t recall what they wore, but they grabbed at me and gave me a path to toddle through in a zigzag fashion. My mind remembers the flies. They hummed in a daze, earning angry swats. That didn’t deter them; they continued their hum, probably becoming more incessant. A man lay prostrate, with snow-white wool stuffed in his nostril. Sniffles, noise, a confused blur. I blurted out inmy naivety and in the tongue of my Mother, “It must be a mosquito party y’all are having.” I don’t remember the response. I continued my toddle, oblivious to how my future and that of my siblings had capsized drastically. Years on, comprehension dawned. But the dire repercussions were still lost on me until a chance conversation with a great uncle had me grieving as an adult for a man I barely knew. But wish I did. A man who is spoken about in loving but hushed tones. A giant in his era, a man who they say is my Father. But, he became a historical figure I learn about from family and strangers and photos. James Kofi Benefo Dakwa. My Pa There was Pa, urging Ma gently but urgently to start getting ready for the long journey ahead. She mumbled something incomprehensible, tying her headgear, loosening it, and tying it again until it wrapped her head just the way she liked it. So he let her have some breathing room so she could finish quickly; his mother was already in Adabraka. A driver picked her at dawn, and it was not nice to keep her waiting for so long. So that was how the whole house got up to prepare for the journey, and then entered the car to go to Osino. Barely four years on the road of life, the vehicle of a father who drove me and my siblings crashed. The earth opened up and swallowed him and his mother whole, causing a catastrophe barely noticeable for me as a child. Wogyafo. Manager. Wofa. J.B. These were the aliases my Pa was known for, depending on his relationship with you, or what had happened. He was the Managing Director of Dakwa Fotohouse Group, a Limited Liability Company that dealt solely with the marketing, distribution, and sale of photographic equipment and photography. His executive office sat on the first floor of our home with my mother’s louvered office next door. She saw everything. Why not? She was his eyes and administrative secretary. The Late James Kofi Benefo Dakwa My Grandma: The Late Grace Amma Ofosua Dakwa 8 The Birthday Journal
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