The morning sun in Adum does not simply rise; it explodes over the horizon, bathing the chaotic heart of Kumasi in a relentless, golden heat. It was a Monday, and the city was already vibrating with the kind of frenetic energy that makes Adum not just a business district, but the very pulse of the Ashanti Region.

Kwesi Dankwa stepped out of the company Land Cruiser, his polished shoes hitting the pavement with a confident thud. He adjusted his tie, a sharp, red silk that stood out against his crisp white shirt. He had just returned from a gruelling week-long trip to Tema, overseeing the shipment of thousands of tonnes of cocoa, and the success of the operation was evident in his stride. He wasn’t just walking; he was gliding, buoyed by the knowledge of a job well done.

“Welcome back, Chairman!” a street hawker shouted, balancing a tray of pure water on her head with acrobatic grace.

Kwesi flashed her a genuine smile, the kind that reached his eyes. “Thank you, Maame! How is business?”

“By God’s grace, we are managing!” she replied, her laughter mingling with the honking horns of Adum taxi drivers.

This was his world. He knew the rhythm of Adum like the back of his hand. He knew the shortcuts through the alleys behind the PZ building, the best spot to get fufu and light soup near the railway line, and exactly which tro-tro mate would give you a fair price. But more importantly, he knew the intricate dance of logistics that kept the region’s lifeblood, cocoa, flowing from the hinterlands to the ports.

He entered the building of the Ashanti Cocoa Buying Company, the cool blast of the air conditioner offering a welcome respite from the humidity. The receptionist, a young woman named Akosua Dede who usually wore a permanent scowl, actually beamed at him.

“Mr. Dankwa! The Director has been asking for you since morning. He says the reports from Tema are excellent.”

“Is that so?” Kwesi asked, feigning surprise though his heart leaped. “Well, I better not keep him waiting.”