“Welcome to the Gold coast,” said the white-man from behind us. We stood right at the place we now call the jubilee house. It was very different it looked a bit like Scotland Yard, can’t really describe the feeling but it felt different. We were all amazed at what we were seeing but not as much as what brought us to the place. “I think am going to puke,” said Mohammed, “this is Ghana,” said the white man. We followed him to a room in one of the many rooms in the mansion. The room was filled with old reports and newspapers, some from the past and other from the future. We stood around waiting for him to tell us why or what is happening is happening. “I know you guys got a lot of questions and I will answer them as we go on” but now just listen.
“Have a look at this,” he handed us one of the many newspapers and asked us to check the date. It was a newspaper named the Telegraph and it was dated 4th of November 1947. “So what does this have to do with us?” asked Nyamekye, “this was the day the first president boarded the MV Accra at Liverpool to join the United Gold Coast Convention,” said Elizabeth. “But it says there was a plane crash on that same day?” I asked. “Yes cos they changed it,” he said. Apparently, the time machine was not just one and a group called the citizens which were a kind of a cult group seeking total dominance of the world.
“So they are trying to eliminate the prominent African leaders first?” asked Mohammed “not exactly, they need just one person or should I say one country. Ghana is blessed in the past and the future and it’s at the center of the world.” So we had to save the president from the plane crash. And we had to get to London which was cool cos I never ever dreamt of it. We left the country on the 2nd of November 1947. The plane ride was magnificent and if this is the past then I don’t know what the future holds. You may ask why we didn’t use the time machine, and my answer would be, come on, it’s in Ghana in the sixties and also you can only jump ones into a timeline which leaves a window which leads to the present. It’s more of magical than scientific.
Liverpool was magnificent. The type of buildings and other stuff. But to be honest some parts looked like Ghana which is obvious. So that is all about Liverpool. We checked into a hotel closer to the airport and a bit closer to Liverpool University where the president schooled. We arrived late in the night and had to go to bed for no reason. But well we can’t complain. My sister was left in Gold coast so it was just us four and the white man.
Later that day, at a meeting to save the president
“The president leaves for the Gold coast at 4:00 pm we just need to convince him not to board the plane. We could have stopped the bombing but we don’t know how they did it so we just have to either smuggle him out of the country before his scheduled departure or let it pass” he said. “I think letting it pass would be the best move,” I said. “At exactly eight we leave for his apartment.” Continued the white-man
At the president’s apartment
Looking more youthful with the drown back hairline, the president or the future president if I may say just suited up and is ready to join a cab to the airport. He sits on a chair on the porch of the apartment waiting. We arrived at his apartment just about when he was ready to enter the cab. A shot was fired which was targeted on the president. The white-man then drove right at the side of the cab signaling the president to enter. He hesitated at first but looking at the circumstance he had no choice and all the while they were still shooting at us.
The white man was able to drive away to avoid any of us getting hurt. We drove to a house which was a bit different from the houses we saw earlier in the city. “Where are we?” asked Mohammed “a safe house,” said the white man. “A safe house in …? How convenient?” said the President, “Mr. President your life is in danger,” said the white man “why do you call me that,” asked Mr. Kwame Francis Nkrumah. “Time will tell. So we stayed in the safe house for like hours and the president kept pacing up and down in the living room. I knew what was wrong but was that really the problem? Well, that I couldn’t tell. “Okay so I have to be in the gold coast by now,” said Mr. Kwame Francis Nkrumah. Let me call him the president.
“In which part of your life is in danger don’t you get” responded the white-man. the room was very quiet for a while then bullets started flying in we all fell on the ground as the person outside shot till he was out of armor then he stopped and drove off. We all got up I checked on the guys and they were all okay so I came back to the sitting room and the president was covered in blood, almost in tears he points to the floor and there lies the Whiteman in a pool of blood. “Oh my God” the words that came out of my mouth but it wasn’t what I was thinking “how would we get home now” was my main concern. We walked about in the room not knowing what to do, but suddenly there was a knock on the door… the story continues.