This is a true story narrated and shared exclusively to jaknewsonline.com. For the purpose of confidentiality, anonymous and safeguard, the image of the character would be protected.
It’s a sunny day here at Banana Inn, a suburb of Dansoman in the Ablekuma Central Constituency. Welcoming me into a compound house of six mixed structure of a narrow entrance with no security gate is a young man of age 32.
His appearance depicts innocence but, hmm, my heart feels otherwise.
My name is Edward Danquah (not the actual name of the character) and I am the third of five in my family. I dropped out of school to join my friends whom I referred to then, as my family. Unfortunately, they all gave up on me. I relocated back to this house when I lost my dad 2 years ago.
There was an overflow of hardship smiling at me and I sometimes smell the presence of poverty around me. A decision I took in March 2019, caused pain in my heart and my family as well.
My Senior brother works with one of the topmost Media Hubs here in Ghana as a Broadcast Journalist but unfortunately, he keeps rejecting and avoiding me as a brother because I never completed my Senior High Level. I feel so much ashamed and bow my head in shame, anytime the family meets for discussions..
Well, around April 2019, I journeyed to Benin with a gang of paddies to seek wealth. My intention was to make money, become rich, then return to Ghana to swim in assets.
The truth was, I never had an idea of sacrificing my brother for that act. I was never told.
Fast forward into the shrine of the “Great Zamzambuja” I was offered a red tonic to drink. Oh! No, I think I drank someone’s blood. It tastes funny. Well! I am here to make money not to top-up my blood, He lamented.
In a basin of water with a decade old ceramic pot swimming just at the center, whispered fears into my eyes. I was told to fetch the knife beneath the water and lift it high into the air, which I did.
At the mention of the name “Behold, the Great Zamzambuja” stab the left side of the pot with the knife. If you can succeed for the third time, then you are rich. Said the Shrine Head.
In my heart I giggled. Such a meek pace to acquire wealth. Upon doing the second one was when I heard my brother’s voice… “Did I wrong you in anyway?”.
I felt heaviness in the shrine room and started freaking. I knew automatically, that wasn’t my brother’s voice. It could have been an Angel for sure. I run as fast as my crooked legs could carry my fat body to any destination at all.
Unfortunately, I lost my way to the main bus station. I slept in the bush for 3 days. My only survival was an unripe plantain I dappled.
“I think God saved me back there. With a sorrowful heart of regret, I began to pray for forgiveness, and that led me to the road side” He added.
When I first narrated the incident to my family upon arrival back to Ghana, my Senior brother in question said he wasn’t surprised. My behavior towards him depicts every action I executed.
I want the world to know that, television has real influence on people. It can direct your thoughts, thinking, and even order your steps unknowingly.
Edward stated that, his tale is based on programs he eventually got addicted to. The display of money, wealth and easy approach of acquiring assets on television changed his mind about the need to go to school, work hard and earn hard. But rather, he sought to the easy approach of raising mansions in a few days.
“I am narrating my story to you, because of the trending issue at Kasoa, of a young boy of 11 years, who was murdered for money rituals. I personally wasn’t surprised when I heard these kids of low age wanting to make wealth.
” I believe there is a law that regulates the content on our television screens. The continuous display of ritual money and Mallam powers will eventually target the youth and set out our country ablaze one day. If the Authorities sit unconcern, expect more of the Kasoa incident to happen. Television content has power, the State should control it.
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