Reflections: June 3 Disaster …Still Remembering
Under normal circumstances the Accra floods of June 3, 2015 would have been treated like one of those floods that have in the past rocked Accra every year in early June.
This year’s floods, however, turned out to be a national disaster because of the accompanying fire that caused so much havoc and brought such untold misery to many homes. Before this year, Ghanaians had become used to the yearly flood, which has become a ritual.
Every year we stay glued to our television sets and watch flooded parts of Accra—Asylum Down, Kwame Nkrumah Circle, Abbosey Okai, Dansoman, Kaneshie, Mallam—and new developing areas such as Weija and communities along the Kasoa road as they go through trying times.
We see tenants scooping water from their rooms or removing their mattresses and other household items to safety or to dry them.
Sometimes we watch in horror as vehicles are washed away or get stuck on flooded roads as area boys have a field day trying to push the vehicles to safety or carry people on their back from one point to the other in knee-deep waters for a fee.
Every year, when these floods occur, government promises to do something about our drainage system to avert any future occurrence. But, unfortunately, very little is done apart from sometimes clearing a few gutters of silt before the rains come pouring the following year, leading to flooding.
It is just as the proverbial vulture tells itself after every rain, when it has been drenched in water because it has no permanent home, that it will build itself a nest, which it has never been able to do out of what many believe to be sheer laziness.
The June 3 disaster was a different ball game. Water and fire came together to wreak such havoc. It has never happened in our history. At the last count, 159 souls had perished, most of them able-bodied young men and women who found themselves at the wrong place and at the wrong time.
How can we explain nurses and other workers returning from work late evening trying to seek shelter from a heavy downpour only to be unexpectedly visited by the inferno that came from where? Sad, indeed.
At 5 p.m. on June 3, I was moving out of Accra in a VIP bus on my way to Kumasi to be in court the next morning in a community case in which I was a respondent. It was actually drizzling as we left the VIP station at Circle that evening but there was nothing foreboding that disaster was looming in the skies.
Since I was to return on Friday, I thought of parking my car at the VIP yard but I discarded that idea at the last minute because, from experience, the yard is always full of VIP buses in mid-week, with no space for travellers to park their cars.
I gave praise to the almighty God when I returned on Friday and saw the situation at the VIP yard. Apparently, the place got flooded and I wondered what might have happened to my small car if I had parked it at the yard.
In any case, it was when I woke up the following morning to listen to the news on radio that I was shocked to learn about what had happened the previous night in Accra. It was just horrible, even listening to the news on radio.
Those who watched the television news — we did not have light in our area — were stunned. Some captured the scene, especially dead bodies on their handsets, and showed it to us. Yes, it was horrible; pure and simple.
On my way to Accra on Friday, June 5, in a VIP bus, I was able to read vivid accounts of what happened on June 3. It was beyond comprehension. I had to go down memory lane to find out if anything can compare with this year’s floods.
My mind went back to the floods of June 7 to 9 of 1965, which, at that time, was described as the worst ever, even though the casualty then was put at about 10 or so. But damage to roads in Accra and the railway lines was very high. I had just finished my General Certificate of Education (GCE) O’ level examination at the West Africa Secondary School (WASS). I had written my last paper, Latin, I remember, on June 6 and then from nowhere the heavens opened up the following day. I think it was a Thursday.
It was a heavy downpour, the type of which had never been experienced before. It rained continuously for three days and everybody was trapped indoors. There was heavy flooding all over Accra. The Circle-Achimota portion of the Accra-Kumasi road was a no-go area.
When the rain subsided after three days and the flood receded, what was left of the road between Circle and Achimota and even beyond was an eye sore. The road was completely destroyed and unmotorable.
What was even worse was the damage caused to the railway lines. They were uprooted and for some weeks there was no train service between Accra and Kumasi.
At that time, there was no drainage along the Circle-Achimota road. It was as a result of the floods of June 1965 that the big gutters along this road and Odawna were constructed.
But the situation created a lot of inconveniencies for travellers who used the Accra-Kumasi road. There was no means getting to even Nsawam by road or rail through Achimota. Alternative routes had to be found and used.
For those going to Kumasi, it was either through Aburi and Koforidua or through Yamoransa and Obuasi.
After completing my “O” Levels on June 6, 1965, I could not go home to Kumasi for some days. Throughout my five years at WASS, I never travelled by road. I was always travelling by train where, as a student, I enjoyed concession and only paid half of the fare like any other student. I felt homesick doing nothing in school. When I went to inquire about how to get to Kumasi, I was told it was only through Aburi/Koforidua. On June 14, 1965, I boarded a Mercedes Benz bus. I was given the back seat and we set off from Circle through Legon. It was a smooth ride.
But as we climbed the mountains I looked behind me and I was terrified by the valley. It was the first time I was travelling on that route. It was not until we descended into Koforidua and joined the Kumasi-Accra road at Bunso that my restlessness ceased.
That was the price I paid for the damage caused by the floods of June 1965.