Writers Project of Ghana

No More

"Christ!" she screamed at the gory scene that met her sight halfway through the front door of the semi-mansion. Half the sofa was drenched in blood, blood oozing from the body that lay on it. It was her husband's. One half of his body lay limp on the sofa, the other half dangling by the side. Instinctively she went to his side, her hand covering her mouth in shock at this horror. Closer to the body now, she saw the neat cut round his throat. Whoever had done this had been professional and ruthless. She began to tremble, shaken by all she had just seen. She reached for her cell phone, having a hard time finding it in her hand bag with unsteady fingers. She called the police.

"Madam, you said the dead man is your husband?"

"Yes", she muttered with a sigh. She was tired of being asked the same questions over and over again. This was only the beginning of the harassment though, she knew. Next was going to be the constant phone calls from friends, family and supposed sympathizers with condolences.

The voice of the policeman barged into her thoughts. "What was his name madam?"

"Benson, Bediako Benson." He jotted it down in the notepad he had been scribbling in since his arrival.

"I'm afraid you'll have to follow us to the police station to give an official report madam. My men will take care of the mess inside don't worry."

Still a little dazed from all that had just happened, she grabbed her handbag and absent-mindedly followed the policeman to his car.


It had been a week since she had come home to meet her murdered husband's body right here in this living room. The police suspected it was someone he knew and most likely trusted as there was no indication of a struggle; probably one of his political ‘acquaintances'. As a Member of Parliament, Bediako had several enemies but just as many friends. Her family loved him. They adored the well accomplished, cultured and polite young man who joined them at table for dinner on Sundays. Her father never passed an opportunity to mention he could not have wished for a better son-in-law. Their friends thought highly of him and society would always worship a man as charitable as him. Bediako was popular for his consistent donations to help the poor and oppressed.

As she had predicted, the phone calls and visits after news of his death went public were endless. All manner of people, those she knew and didn't know, called or came in to sympathize and comfort her through this traumatic event. Of course she was traumatised. She had seen a man murdered in the worst way. The blood... she couldn't erase that thick red from her memory and it filled her with disgust anytime she remembered. But beneath the trauma, no one knew the relief she felt. Yes, to the rest of the world Bediako had been an angel. No one knew of the brute he was behind these closed doors; the beatings she had suffered from his big manly hands. No one knew of his greed or the schemer he was. He was gifted in his ability to manipulate the hell out of people. But now he was gone. A faint smile touched her lips at the thought.

Abena Ankomaa Asomaning currently works at the Language Centre, University of Ghana, Legon.