Bed of Thornes (Graphic Showbiz mini series)

Bonsu walked over to the front seat, and opened the door for Akosua. He pulled on her cheeks again when she exited the car, and to answer her question, said, “Abi you know.”

“These are the kind of buildings you dream of living in when you’re growing up,” Akosua said, admiration coating each word she spoke.

“Soon, it will be all yours,” Bonsu said, as he climbed the stairs that led to the reception.

A lady sat behind the desk, and Bonsu nodded a greeting to the lady when he got to where she sat, before saying, “Birago, this is my girl friend.”

“Oh, okay,” Birago said, as she extended her hand to Akosua. “Nice to meet you.”

Akosua shook Birago’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you too.”

Bonsu put his hand on Birago’s shoulder and said, “That is my only sister. And she’s the only one who you will be fighting with for my attention.”

“Not your mother?” Akosua asked, as a smile formed on her face.

“She passed away several years ago,” Birago said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Bonsu cleared his throat, and looking at Birago, asked, “Did you prepare the meal?”

“Yes. It’s set on the dining table.”

Bonsu held Akosua’s hand and said, “I shall show you the hotel, but first, let’s wine and dine,” before walking into the dinning room.


Kwaku sat on a bench in front of his house, drinking a bottle of gin. He put the bottle to his lips, downed a mouthful, before spitting on the floor after the gin burned his throat. He licked his lower lips repeatedly and the look on his face painted the picture of someone who had just swallowed a very bitter pill.

Kwaku spat on the floor again and looked to the heavens. He opened his palms as if in prayer, and asked, “God, what did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong, God? My heart is wounded God. What did I do to offend you?”

Kwaku closed his eyes, and slowly, scenes of the day Akosua promised him her undying love, came to his head. Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, mini streams of tears started crawling down his cheeks as vivid images from that day filled his head.

They were sitting on his worn out mattress when Akosua, with her hair plated, promised him her undying love.

“I love you, Kwaku. I’ve never loved another person like how I love you.”

Kwaku had smiled and said, “Not even your father.”

“That man doesn’t care about me. Why should my affection for him be greater than the one I have for you?”

“I love you too, my dear,” Kwaku had told her. “You inspire me to work harder to achieve great things. I can’t wait to repay you.”

Akosua had kissed Kwaku briefly, before saying, “You make me feel like a woman. I’ll love you until the end of time.”

Kwaku had smiled again, before he said, “I can’t wait to father your children. I just pray the children will have your beautiful eyes.”

“I want one boy and one girl.”

“Any number you want, my love, I will give you.”

Akosua had reached forward and kissed him, before they perambulated on coitus’ path.

Kwaku opened his eyes and snapped out of the world of the past, when he heard footsteps heading his way. He would have smiled when he saw Mantey making funny poses as he walked towards him, but his emotions had been so eclipsed by darkness.

“Officer,” Kwaku called out in a voice that was barely audible, before taking another gulp of the gin.

Mantey shook his head and said, “I suspected you’d be drinking.”

Kwaku took another sip and said, “Let me drink, for life is not sweet. Today, you’re here, tomorrow, you’re gone.”

“You’ll be here tomorrow and the next,” Mantey said, before joining his friend on the bench he sat on.

“The world is not sweet anymore.”

“Don’t be saying those things.”

“I want rat poison.”

“Cat poison is what you want,” Mantey said. “You’re beginning to piss me off with all this talk of suicide.”

Kwaku tried to take another gulp of the gin, but Mantey took the bottle from him. “You’ve had enough for the day. Have you even eaten?”

Kwaku nodded, but said nothing.

“What did you eat?”

“Love…”

“You’re not serious.”

Kwaku swallowed hard and asked, “What dirt do you have on Bonsu?”

“A lot, if you were to count the rumours.”

“So there’s nothing you can put on him?”

“No. I told you this the other day. We almost arrested him for cannabis, but he paid some local clown to claim the cannabis belonged to him.”

“What are some of the rumours you’ve been hearing about him?” Kwaku asked.

“They say he’s into illegal mining and illegal lumbering. People even say he uses his hotel as a brothel sometimes for big men who want to satisfy their perverted needs without drawing attention to themselves.”

“And can’t you investigate?”

“My brother, the investigator would rather go on his cocoa farm than delve into such things. You know how the system works here.”

“I will find out. I will do the investigation myself,” Kwaku said.

Mantey shook his head and said, “You’ve lost it.”

“I won’t give up on Akosua.”

“How about Accra?” Mantey asked. “Won’t you go and start working?”

“Until I get Akosua back, I’m not leaving this place. I won’t leave this place without her, Mantey.”

Mantey shook his head and said, “Let’s get you something to eat, because clearly, hunger is affecting your brain.”

Kwaku got to his feet, and with Mantey’s help, he walked into his room with feet that were tickled by inebriation.


Sweat had caused Bonsu’s shirt to stick to his skin as he stood beside a stout man, Ogyam, close to a Mercedes-Benz bus. In front of the Mercedes-Benz bus, two similar buses were parked. The rear door of the bus closest to Ogyam and Bonsu was open, and two men were busy loading sacks into them.

Bonsu rarely exercised, and he was out of breath after helping the men carry the sacks into the bus.

“The business is booming, my brother,” Ogyam said. Unlike Bonsu, he’d stood back and watched the men fill the Mercedes-Benz bus, and his sweat pores had remained closed.

“I’m glad it is,” Bonsu said, in between taking deep breaths. “The authorities won’t suspect a thing.”

“Long may that continue. This is better than any business venture I’ve entered into, I tell you.”

Bonsu wiped sweat from his forehead and said, “I just hope it will grow big enough, so that we can start entering into our neighbouring countries because at the rate at which we are going, we should have the whole of Ghana in our palms soon.”

“I hope it will convince you to stay in Ghana.”

“I don’t know, my friend,” Bonsu said. “I miss Holland. I’m sure you can handle the business even if I’m not around.”

Ogyam nodded and said, “That is true, but I’ll be happy if you and Birago are here.”
“My wife won’t let me,” Bonsu said.

“Can’t you let your wife and kids come down here. Perhaps, if you told them of how much money you make down here, they will be willing to join you.”

“My wife knows how much I make, but she still doesn’t want to come to Ghana. I suggested it to her, and she got angry. But I’m okay with that.”

“Even with all the millions and the prospect of having people roll at her feet?”

Bonsu shrugged and said, “She just doesn’t want to return. She says Ghana and everything in it makes her depressed.”

“So nothing can convince her?”

Bonsu shook his head and said, “Absolutely nothing.”

Ogyam cleared his throat, leaned on the Mercedes-Benz bus and said, “I guess the nights are terribly cold for you.”

A smile altered Bonsu’s facial features when he said, “My nights are seldom cold, my friend.”

“You’ve found a town girl?”

“You expected me to go through the cold nights alone?” Bonsu asked. “I have one in Accra, but the distance is making me lose interest.”

“Is the local girl pretty?”

Bonsu nodded and said, “If it wasn’t for the fact that I had a wife, I wouldn’t have minded marrying her.”

“These women down here start thinking of marriage once your start sleeping with them,” Ogyam told his friend.

Bonsu nodded and said, “That is why you tell the perfect lie.”
“Perfect lie?”