The morning sun hadn’t yet burned off the mist hanging over the Sofoline Police Station when a courier motorcycle skidded to a halt at the

“What are you suggesting, Accountant?” Osei asked. “Kwesi is flying high right now. But a bird that flies too high is easy to shoot down.

While Kwesi was receiving congratulations from his neighbours and preparing for his triumphant return to Patasi, a very different scene was unfolding just a few

Saturday morning in Kumasi arrived with a festive brightness, the sun glinting off the metal roofs. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, the kind

The remnants of the fufu had been cleared, and the evening breeze rustled the mango leaves in the courtyard. Kwesi sat back, watching Abena. The

The journey from Bantama to Patasi was not long, but in the gathering dusk of a Kumasi evening, it felt like a voyage between two

The silence that followed Agyeman’s departure was heavy, hanging in the humid air like the dust settling after a tro-tro passes on a dirt road.

Agyeman turned slowly, looking Kwesi up and down, assessing the quality of his shirt, the shine of his shoes. “Ah, Kwesi. The traveller returns. We

The morning sun in Bantama was less forgiving than the previous evening’s golden glow. It beat down on the corrugated iron roofs, promising another sweltering