Growing up, I have always had the ambition of working as a journalist. My inspiration was, Komla Dumor. I, until his death did not know he was also called Afeke. Back in the day, my dad could not afford a radio set so on my way to school every morning; I had to slow down any time I got to ‘busy bee’, a drinking spot in Akosombo. I slowed down my pace not for the unpleasant smell of alcohol or the smoke emanating from the nostrils of tobacco and weed smokers, but to listen to the radio set playing from a loud speaker. Until the proliferation of radio stations, the drinking spot which was my only means of knowing what's going on always tuned in to Joy FM.

I always felt good when I got to busy bee, because at that moment in time, I dream of what awaits me in the future especially when I will hear the captivating voice of Komla Dumor doing traffic watch.

So wanting to live the dream of a Journalist, I enrolled to get the requisite skill and training to prepare me for the task. And after two years of waiting, I got into the world of journalism thanks to the Multimedia Group Limited.

First day out on a 'big sit down assignment' always comes with a feel-good factor. Looking all green and coming face to face with personalities you only see on TV and hear on radio was enough motivation in itself. Of course no journalist has won an award for covering a 'sit down' assignment, you would have to push boundaries, challenge the status quo, and call leadership to account to make impact. And that is the kind of journalism I want to do and I sure know it comes with lots of risks and hazards.
So let me tell you about my experience I may never forget in my short practice as a Journalist.

In November 2014, at the Cocoa Affairs Court in the nation’s capital, I recorded what I call my first job hazard when followers of the accused gay Doctor, Dr. Sulley Gabass attacked me and my cameraman for trying to 'expose' activities of some ‘big men’ who otherwise would have been shielded because of their standing in society. 

Since TV is all about visuals, I had to force my cameraman to get footage. The encounter with Gabass’s followers however gave me the opportunity to appear on ‘News Today’ at midday to give an account of exactly transpired at the cocoa affairs court.  Friends and loved ones called me from across the country to congratulate me for finally realizing my dream of being a journalist. What they didn't know was the struggles I went through to get the story.

Despite the physical attack on me and my crew, something I have always known even before getting into the job is to fight on no matter what.

Then, the big one, January 17 2015. I have always known for a fact, that chasing stories can sometimes be dangerous. On this particular day, my crew and I had a really dangerous and ‘bad’ day. The irony of this was the fact that I covered the memorial service of my role model, Komla Dumor. With that, I thought I was going to have a very good and easy day even though I had to cover three different assignments that day.

That day turned out to be the worse day yet for me as a new entrant into the media circles. First, my crew and I arrived late at the memorial service for the ace broadcaster, Komla Dumor. And so in a rush to get things done, I dropped my phone in a chair, and someone took it in the church. Yes in the church.

There and then my cameraman and driver sensed how the day would go, and advised we go back to the office after the Memorial Service. I shrugged them off and we continued to cover the second assignment at the Tema Motorway Tollbooth.

The tollbooth on the motorway had an electronic section which is open to the general public for patronage. But the difficulty which was particularly the reason for my visit, I was prevented from filming. My quest was almost becoming fruitless. Journalist, unravel the misery and educate motorists about the electronic section.  After lengthy engagement with the supervisor at post, my crew was denied the chance to educate motorists. 

That I must say was surprising. But I wasn't deterred even though my crew thought otherwise, I had to press on and they had no other option but to follow my lead. But what almost discouraged me was when we were almost run over by an articulated truck on the motorway. But then again, there was a third story which I needed to get at all cost.

On our way back to Accra central, a rickety taxi just run into our car from nowhere. The driver of the cab would not even show any remorse and rather blamed my driver. So at this point, I gave in to my driver and camera technician's report that the day has gone too bad and we need to return to the office. But on the way to wrap up on a third story, a mentally deranged man attacked us. All three of us could not help but to laugh over all that had happened and as superstitious as they are, my driver and camera man went to stake lotto with the registration numbers of the cars involved in the accident. 

The undesirable experience ended that day for all three of us. I got to the office and quickly got my script edited, packaged and the excitement of getting your story getting into the lineup for the day followed suit. But what the three of us didn't see coming was the psychological trauma that was to follow. Two days after the stories were aired, for the first time in my life I had a call from a ‘private number’ and for some reason, I didn't answer. It continued for about three times at which point I answered and couldn't believe my ears. Apparently one of the stories I did on the 17th day of January 2015 has got a cartel on the spot and wouldn't take it lightly with me. 

The person on the other side of the phone had called to ask me to apologize and retract the story I did about an alleged impostor who was picked up by the Legon Police after investigations by National Security. The caller demanded I retract the story and do damage control with another story.

Quickly I detected the conversation is being recorded by the faceless person on the other side of the phone to use against me in the court of law. Not even my News Editor’s explanation could get this faceless guy off my back, so I had no other option but to leave my phone in the Newsroom overnight for fear of being tracked and attacked.

The initial reaction to all these was that of indifference. But the police had to be brought on board because it was getting out of hand. I could not produce even a story for one week because of the serial callers taunting my life.

The smile I always had on my face was gone. Grimness now characterize my face and and my thoughts were just jammed. I was losing it but could not open up to talk to anybody about it. It is still not over because even though Alhassan and his accomplices have gone silent, I do not know their next line of action.

Anyway I am still working towards the dream of becoming a renowned Journalist no matter what.