3:25PM

Ali

Hot afternoon weather here in the center of Ghana is like carrying red hot coals on your head and watching it spill like molten lava down your back. If the sun showed any emotion it would have looked down at us and smirked like the psychopath it was. And the traffic did nothing to help. Drivers loudly honked at eachother as if that would make the traffic move any faster. The vehicles with functioning air conditions had theirs on. I suspect most of them to be corrupt in one way or another.

The passengers’ bus I was in was at the tail of the great serpent that was today's afternoon traffic. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, sweating without any end in sight. My handkerchief was damp and my face white from wiping it too much. I sat by the window, and on the left of the bus was a black Jeep. The driver of the Jeep, stiff as a statue in his creamy-white long sleeve and black tie only looked forward. I could tell his boss was the hard to please kind. His boss was the fair plump woman in her late forties asleep in the back.

If you have never heard gunshots before, I have. I did on this day at this very moment. The fear the gunshot strikes into you mingles with your soul and becomes a part of you. A fear-scar you can never get rid of no matter how much you try.

An initial shot like the cracking of lightning sounded above the noisy honks. Bang! Followed by a hail of shots into the air ahead of us. I moved to kneel in the bus and hide instinctively without thinking. And before my knees could touch the ground, as a few people struggled to jump through the windows to ‘safety’ and the rest of us ducked, the roaring of motors mixed with gunshots whisked past at lightning speed. There was a high speed motor, probably a Ducati, by the sound of it and maybe two dirt bikes. The men were masked except for the drivers. And unless I’m mistaken, there was a police officer behind one of the bikes. More than any bullet could do, I was riddled with questions and left to wonder, "what just happened?"

Obed

My father had picked me up in his silver Range Rover Vogue. He had a black suitcase on the other seat with him since I always sat in the back. With the fleet of Porsche cars at home, I was soon bound to drive myself to school; if I completed driving school... I was sure the instructor had something against me. But it didn't matter, because I could very well pay those in charge, any amount to get my license. I was going through the rigor of a driving school because of my father.

' How was school? What did you learn?".

'Not much' I replied, not as interested in talking to him as I was streaming a movie. I was busy on my phone the whole drive and did not see when we got stuck in traffic. Or how long we had been in it. Lifting my head momentarily from my phone, I noticed the police officer in the middle of the road directing the traffic. He was seated on his government issued motor cycle and although he was controlling the traffic, his eyes were fixed on us. I thought nothing of it. "He is just doing his job" I said to myself.

'These officers are not very diligent at their works. Just look at how he is controlling the traffic...’

But before my father could finish speaking, there was a knock on the driver’s side of the window. A young muscly man, probably in his early twenties stood by the window. His was a scarred face and one not easily forgotten. He smiled at us, pulled out a gun and pumped my father full of lead through the window.

In less than a second of the shot, as the shattered glass crumbled down, and before I could fully react, his hand went into the car and he took out the suitcase. A crippling fear like the coil of a python held me bound, unable to move or say anything. As if rehearsed, the police officer stepped on the bike, firing shots at the cars and into the air. The young man jumped onto the speeding bike with ease and they sped off still shooting.

Streethawkers jumped in between cars, onto the street and behind vehicles to avoid any stray bullet and the robbers. People run helter-skelter on either side of the pedestrian. Who wouldn't?

Charles

Each agonizing second I spend stuck in this abominable traffic is a moment I could have spent convincing Rachel to get back together with me. You must fight for the one you love with everything you’ve got. I will fight for her—for us.

Taking my phone I re-read our breakup message. By this time i can tell word for word everything she wrote. But it is more like her breakup message with me. I did not agree to anything. Just like it took both of our consents before we started dating, it's going to take both of our consents for there to be a breakup. That's how this works. “Hey, there’s something important I need to tell you and I don’t think I can tell you face-to-face. So here goes, I’m breaking up with you. I’ve found a much more exciting and caring guy to be with. And I hope I don’t get to see you again. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Don’t show up at my house or try any grand gestures to win me back. I hope you find someone who can be with you.”

She can't tell me face-to-face? That has to be the biggest sign that she still loves me, if there ever was one. She needs someone exciting? I’ll be the most exciting, freaking spontaneous guy she will ever meet. I will be anything she wants me to be, as long as she chooses me. Anything.

We are meant to be together. It’s our destiny. I will get rid of anyone who dares to come between us. I did not study the human biology those long night hours for nothing. My high school biology teacher was right. "I will need it." Destiny is on my side. No one will suspect me if whoever he is dies. But no... I cannot kill him immediately. At least not yet. I have to win back Rachel and then I’ll get rid of him. I suppose there was no need to buy a new kitchen knife. I will have to keep it in my bag.

These two bikers and their passengers on each side of the taxi keep freaking me out. Most bikers would have maneuvered their way in the traffic but they just stood there. Hands on the accelerator and feet on the ground. Even weirder is how they are facing oncoming cars instead of facing where we all faced...front ahead. They are clearly in the wrong lane. You never know with these bikers. They easily get on my nerves. I will have to do something about them when in the near future.

This traffic is not going to get any better soon. I need to run the rest of the way even though I’m the least athletic guy. I open the door and the biker on my right shuts it close. The way he looks at me and says

‘Stay in if you don’t want to get hurt’

I struggle to find what to say and then I hear it. Bang! My ears tingle and my heart falls into my hand. The passenger behind him casts a quick glance at me and the taxi-driver and pulls out a rifle. He shoots a hundred quick round into the air. My ear drums vibrate and quake at the sound of the fired weapons but I’m no longer scared. Instead I feel so much peace come over me. I watch as they step on the gas and fly off shooting like the crazy beautiful artists they are. The driver is crouched between his seat and the car' steering wheel, trembling with fear. I watch them go as I smile to myself as the last sound of their weapon fires off and they disappear. No matter what it takes I will find them and join them. Rachel can wait.