The story about the phone dealer’s death at Teshie brought back some painful memories for me and for my family too. The circumstances surrounding his death are so similar to how my brother died in 2003, twenty-three years ago, to be precise.

My brother, Yaw, was a married man, living with his young wife in Kasoa. They were married for five years, and they did not have children. My brother already had two children before the marriage, so it could be safe to say that maybe, just maybe, the fault was from the woman. Those two children, Yaw brought them to live with them, so they lived more like one big happy family. I did not hear it directly from his wife’s mouth, but it was a passing rumour in the family that since she could not have children of her own, she willingly accepted the kids Yaw had with these other women.

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Yaw was a timber merchant in Accra, so most of the time, he travelled to places in the Ashanti Region to buy timber to sell back in Accra. On the day it happened, Yaw told his wife that he was travelling to Kumasi to buy goods. A day or so after he left, one of my cousins received a call from a woman. He said he thought it was one of the pranksters trying to play a fool out of him. The person introduced herself as Yaw’s side chick’s tenant and passed on the terrible news: “There was an accident, and your brother has been involved.”

She did not tell us the full story of the accident until my cousin and three other cousins arrived at the hospital. But on the way there, one heavy question kept weighing on our minds: What was Yaw doing in Accra when he had told everyone he was on his way to Kumasi for goods? What was he thinking? And how did a stranger get my cousin’s number? So many unanswered questions.

Well, at the hospital, we got our answers. Yaw had gone to sleep at his side chick’s house.

My cousin and a few of my brothers went in, only to find my brother already dead. It was the first time I ever entered the cold room of a morgue. My brother was laid on a stretcher wearing only boxer shorts, with severe bruises all over his face, body, and legs.

We asked how he died and what those marks on his body were. That midnight, another man, who happened to be the lady’s other boyfriend, got wind of my brother’s presence in her room. The boyfriend came with a friend, confronted my brother, and it escalated into a physical fight. They ganged up and beat him brutally to death. When they realised he was unresponsive, they put him in a taxi with the lady and asked her to rush him to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

The family head and everyone agreed that they would not even file a police report. The consensus was that if he chose to die this way, then he would have to answer to God himself when asked how he died. My brother owned a two-bedroom house where he lived with his wife and those children. My uncles, aunties, and everyone agreed, if you could leave your wife and children in a developing, lonely place, if you knew Kasoa in 2003, you know how scary and isolated it was back then, just to go sleep with another woman and die in her room, then no one had time to waste on your stupidity.

And that was the end of the case. After his burial, his wife was given the house, one bedroom for the wife, the other for the children. Case closed. We mourned Yaw how best we knew.

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

Since this recent case broke, I have not been able to sleep. Maybe this is a wake-up call to all men. Men cheat, and they always find excuses for why they do it, but most of them are unable to see another man eating from their plate.

Anyway, please protect yourselves. I know you won’t stop, but do not go “Salomaying” in a woman’s room. If anything, go to a hotel.

— Precious

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