I had both hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, and my foot decisively on the accelerator pedal of my cerulean blue Suzuki Celerio — bumping my head and whistling to ‘Come on Home’ by the Lijadu Sisters — when I received a phone call, around 9.00 am, on 3 October 2019.

It came from Group Captain Richard Forjoe. He was formal, brief and instructive: ‘Good morning, Mr Djokoto. President Rawlings would like to meet you later today’.
‘Of course, I’m obliged. Please tell me exactly where and I’d be there,’ I spontaneously replied, rather eagerly, interrupting even before he could provide specific details.

He then ordered me to park outside the Alisa Hotel, North Ridge, at exactly 3:00 p.m. and ring him.

After the phone call, I took a quick detour to a beach near the Christiansborg Castle, just to reflect on a rather pleasant surprise. Initially, I struggled to put my finger on exactly what the meeting could be about. But it really didn’t matter; the stars had aligned, the ancestors had intervened, and a fine moment had presented itself.

I parked, stepped out of the vehicle, and gazed at the endlessness of the hypnotic sea for a moment. Then I cautiously descended a few corroded rocks and proceeded to stroll along the solitary shore. Intuitively, it felt like a good omen; and just a few hours from a milestone encounter.

I took a long shuddering breath, kicked my pair of penny loafers off and held them, then placed both feet in the chilly sea water, the seaweed tickling my toes, and mumbled — with eyes closed — a short prayer. I could feel the breeze behind as I paced back to my vehicle.

I arrived at the Alisa Hotel later, around 2:00 p.m., on a sweltering afternoon. The entire Accra appeared to have been dropped into a cooking three-legged coal-pot. Reggae was the most soothing remedy for the bizarre fusion of anxiety, euphoria and discomfort. And so, I enjoyed a few records by Bob Marley to pass time.

I called Group Captain Forjoe after an hour and informed him that I had arrived as scheduled. 'Good afternoon, Sir. I hope you’re well. Please I’m at the location, as discussed.’
He dispatched a chauffeur to fetch me from the location to the rendezvous. After about quarter of an hour, a black Mercedes Benz Viano, with dim tinted windows, came and I hopped in.

The chauffeur, a uniformed young officer, was mute for the entire ride. And the radio was off. He responded to my initial greeting, which I mandatorily offered out of courtesy, with a slight nod and a straight face. He then lowered the temperature of the air-condition significantly and proceeded to drive.

I sat quietly until we reached the destination. The chauffeur then got out of the car, leaving the engine on. He didn’t utter a single word. I monitored the right-hand side mirror in suspense. After about a quarter of an hour, I could see a towering figure — clothed in a neatly pressed long-sleeve white linen shirt, black trousers and shiny boots — descending from the stairs in a majestic manner.

It was His Excellency Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings. He took a brisk walk to the car. President Rawlings then opened the passenger’s side of the car door, and assumed his seat. I was directly behind him. He commanded that I moved over to other side; behind the driver’s seat. I complied. He then opened the glove compartment, as if to inspect it, then turned around to face me — and the conversation began. I must admit I was initially star-struck.

The circumstances under which our conversation took place was unique. I’d never anticipated such an intimate tête-à-tête with President Rawlings.

‘Chief. I’ve heard some great stuff about you. And I’ve read some of your opinion editorials too. Good job! How are you?’ he said.
‘Thank you very much for the kind words, Sir. I’m not doing bad at all. How’s life?’ I replied.
‘Well, I am taking it each day at a time. I’d like to know what your thoughts are on where we stand as a nation’ he probed.

'I believe Ghanaians, especially the youth, desperately want a new style of politics’ I suggested, then paused briefly.

'The current political order has been nothing but an instrument of oppression and it’s only a matter of time until it crumbles.’ I continued.

President Rawlings listened with rapt attention as I spoke, squinting all the way through, and did not interrupt even once. The world had abruptly paused for us two. It was a surreal, almost spiritual moment.

All of a sudden, Mr Rawlings wasn’t the least bit intimidating. He then gasped and turned his focus towards the ceiling. It appeared as though he had slipped into sudden despair.

'You know, it’s really sad and it hurts. After all the tough sacrifices we made to salvage what was left of this nation, we’re still so far from moral uprightness and social progress’ he bemoaned.

The emotion with which he expressed these deep-rooted fears was somewhat overwhelming. President Rawlings sounded like an idealist consumed by agony who struggled to cope with reality. Then he started to quiver.

He clutched the seatbelt buckle for about half a minute. Visibly distressed, sweat droplets trickled down his forehead, flowing to his neck.

'Chief, what are the chances that a new force could emerge in our national politics?’ he enquired.

'For a new force to emerge, it’ll have to be powered by the youth, backed by the middle-class intelligentsia and funded by the masses,’ I answered.

Mr Rawlings leaned in much closer. ‘But who has the courage to lead such a struggle and motivate the people?’ he whispered.

'It certainly would be a fearless young man, or woman, who would be moved by the hand of God and the spirit of nationalism, at His appointed time’ I replied, in a rather religious tone, lost for a straightforward, logical answer.

'Currently, the majority of young educated people with the capacity to not just lead a revolution but administer the Republic are ideologically aligned to the National Democratic Congress. And, Sir, these are also the calibre of people, mainly socialists and Pan-Africanists, that are keen on a radical movement to reshape our Republic.’ I insisted.

'I’m afraid if there’s a third force, it’ll most likely divide the NDC and that’ll only inure to the benefit of the Danquah-Busia-Dombo tradition’ I continued.

'Forget the political elite and its traditions. Isn’t there a way to bridge both the base of the NPP and NDC, you know, especially the grassroots?’ he probed.

'The NPP-leaning youth are hoodwinked by a deadly mixture of tribalism and a false sense of elitism. They believe more in the targeted success of the educated salariat or entrepreneurs rather than the general welfare of the community. The revolution is inevitably going to come from within the NDC. Its values and principles will then seduce the capitalists and lure them across the carpet.’ I replied.

‘The soul of Ghana is wrapped in socialism.’ I maintained 'What’s the best way forward, Mr President?’ I asked.

'The answer must come from you, my friend. These are the things that should keep you up at night.’ He said.

'Always ask yourself whether your actions are in the interest of Ghana, or if it benefits just you.’ He remarked.

'Chief, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to more of such conversations.’ he said. 'Pleasure to meet you too, Sir’ I replied. We parted with a firm handshake.
‘Your hands are soft. Goodness gracious, you’ve never done any chores before have you?’ he asked, sniggering.

This was my personal experience with H. E. Flt. Lt. Jerry John Rawlings. He remains a chief cornerstone of the 4th Republic; an accomplishment that goes beyond mortality. His death must continue to be a uniting factor for all Ghanaians — especially socialists and Pan-Africanists.

The author, V. L. K. Djokoto (b. 1995), is a financier and gallerist. He leads D. K. T. Djokoto & Co — an old-fashioned top-tier multi-family office, established in 1950 — which is deeply anchored on residential real estate; steers the wheels of rural banking across coastal Ghana; revived the Accra Evening News, established in 1948, delicately rebranded into a post-partisan cultural newspaper; and finances a cultic arts and culture department intensely focused on engineering a radiant legacy. Through expertly crafted artistic experiences, Djokoto seeks to mobilise Ghanaians weaving African music, literature and art.