In the first week of June, 2026, I was informed by the secretary to the ‘Daily Graphic’ Editor that a reader had asked to be given my phone contact. I gave her the go-ahead.

In less than an hour, I received a call. It was from the reader. He introduced himself as Joseph Ampofo Wadie, a former staff member of Kumasi Brewery Limited. He had suffered an injustice at the hands of the State and needed someone with access to the Chief of Staff. I was at pains to explain to him that I had no special access to anyone in government, but agreed to meet him to discuss the “injustice”.

Over lunch, Mr Wadie off-loaded the content of his burdened heart. The 77-year-old man is in pain; he has been in pain since 1988, a victim of state (government) injustice. His plight is as described by George Orwell, who, in painting a picture of injustice or oppression, wrote in his novel ‘1984’, “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.”

Mr Wadie has battled the state since 1988, but the state's boot is stamped on his face.

In 1988, he bought a VW Beetle (GVA 2209) at an auction held at Dunkwa Hospital, supervised by the Ghana Armed Forces. It was one of a number of vehicles donated by the German government to the Ministry of Health for use by doctors, but this car had a slight defect, and the doctor to whom it was allocated had declined to use it.

The auction price came to 65,000 (old) cedis. In 1988, this was a colossal fortune unaffordable to an ordinary worker, so Mr Wadie had to turn to the KBL Credit Union for a loan to buy it. The auctioneer issued him a receipt for the amount, and he drove the car home.

A day later, however, the hospital administration asked him to return the car because the doctor had changed his mind and now wanted it. He duly returned the car, but the hospital authorities told him they could not refund his money because it had been paid into the government chest. 

Now began the frantic search for the military officer who had conducted the auction and who had issued him the receipt. Being a busy soldier in charge of disposing of state assets, the officer was always on the move, auctioning seized vehicles around the country.

When Mr Wadie finally tracked him down to his office in Accra, the officer directed that he should put his request in writing, addressed to the Chief of Staff, Gondar Barracks, Burma Camp. Those were in the heady days of the PNDC, when Gondar Barracks spelt terror in Ghana; indeed, the military officer advised him not to attempt to send the letter to Gondar without him.

Unfortunately, this officer was hard to track down because of his supposed “heavy schedule”. Mr Wadie lost him.

On one occasion, a sympathetic officer in President Atta Mills' government took up the case. He advised Wadie to choose between a cash refund and a replacement. The latter opted for a replacement.

But even this was not to be. Before approval could be given for him to go for the car, there was a change of government.

It’s been years. His case looks bad; even his own lawyer has advised that, having travelled beyond a certain number of years, it is now statute-barred.

But Mr Wadie is pointing out that he had not been the cause of the delay. Officers at the Presidency appointed to handle the case have shrugged it off nonchalantly. “They couldn’t care less. Their attitude seems to stem from a certain assurance that a civil servant cannot be personally sued and that if it came to judgement debts, payment would not be from their pocket.”

Mr Wadie is still clinging to hope. He has been told by everybody that he cannot fight a government. He knows that, but that is why he is not fighting; he is only raising a plea.

To the incumbent Chief of Staff, Julius Debrah, he repeats his case: “My only offence is that I paid for a car and the money went to government chest. Since then, all doors to all Chiefs of Staff have been shut against me. I have been a victim of unfair treatment and systemic barriers.

“Even at the current rate of interest, 65,000 cedis in 1988 might not mean much to a government, but it’s a lot of money to me, a 77-year-old pensioner, who is battling life over the cost of eye drops, BP drugs and others which, at my age, have become lifetime medications.”

When Yours Truly enquired about his daily feeding, monthly utility bills, transportation to the hospital, etc., Mr Wadie just looked blankly at me. I noticed he was tearing up, but he couldn’t cry because he had been brought up in a culture that forbids men from crying openly. He is living on the breadline, literally, hanging on by fingernails.