My uncle had passed away. He was my mother's brother and an alumnus of Mawuli Secondary School, one of the most renowned schools in Ghana. Many old students of the school were attending his funeral to pay their respects.
The ceremony began on Thursday. That evening, his mortal remains were taken from the mortuary, and a wake-keeping was held. Guests began arriving that morning in Takoradi, Western Region, where the funeral was taking place.
Later that evening, chaos erupted as my uncle's family, accompanying his body, were caught in a heavy downpour while traveling from Cape Coast to Takoradi. Despite the rain, they eventually arrived safely. Meanwhile, we were instructed to prepare everything including food because an important guest, an old friend of my mother, was coming with her husband, his mother, and two of their children.
Amid the commotion, we were suddenly distracted by the blaring sound of a siren, flashing red and blue lights, and the yellow hazard lights of a vehicle. A convoy followed - a 2024 Toyota Prado, a 2022 Toyota V8, and an unregistered black Lexus LX 750h - all led by a police motorbike escort. The officer riding the bike was soaked from the rain.
As the vehicles came to a halt, the occupants began to step out. In the Prado were my mother's friend, her husband, and their daughter, who appeared to be around my age. The V8 carried her husband's mother, a young woman in her early twenties, and a driver. The Lexus housed her eldest daughter, her husband, and their three-month-old baby. Due to the heavy rain, I couldn't see them clearly.
My mother eagerly welcomed them, showering them with attention. I couldn't deny that she was doing too much - it felt embarrassing. I sensed irritation from them, though I understood her excitement. They were immensely successful individuals; their aura radiated wealth.
The woman herself was a highly successful German businesswoman, recognized among the richest women in the world. Her husband, unsurprisingly, was competing with Elon Musk. He owned multiple companies across industries, including technology, construction, and social enterprises, partnering with his wife and children. He was the richest man in Ghana and was fast approaching the title of the second richest man in the world, currently ranking third after Mark Zuckerberg.
His mother held the esteemed position of Regional Minister of Takoradi. Their eldest daughter was an accomplished neurosurgeon, having once earned the title of the youngest neurosurgeon in the world. She owned a multipurpose hospital in the heart of Accra. Her husband, a formidable Italian lawyer, specialized in defending high-profile criminal cases. Their youngest daughter, who had accompanied them, was on a similar path. I soon learned she was about to obtain her LLB from Lancaster University and planned to be called to the German Bar a month after her degree. She also aimed to qualify for the Ghanaian, British, and American Bars shortly, thereafter, striving to become the youngest lawyer while pursuing her master's and doctorate degrees. It was all incredibly impressive.
My mother led them into our small house, where refreshments after the ceremony would be served. She navigated her way through familiar obstacles, a testament to how long we had lived there.