Remembering my Encounters with JJ:

A Tribute to a Fallen Ghanaian Giant Oak Tree

You once asked me for a copy of this picture which adorned the mantlepiece of my living room. It is still prominently displayed in my house and not a day goes by without my seeing it. I promised to make a copy for you. Unfortunately, I never got around to it and, in the intervening years, things changed, our relation turned ice cold, and contact between us became inexistent.

What did not change, however, was my continued respect and admiration for you and what you represented in Ghana’s history. I have always insisted, in my rare public comments about you, that history will judge you very favorably in your quest to reform the Ghanaian body politic, create an accountable government which is dedicated to restoring the human dignity of the marginalized and the oppressed. It is a view and admiration that, not surprisingly, was shared by your former Vice President, John Evans Atta Mills (Jnr) who worked closely with you. Mindful of your empathy, listening ear, and sway with the grassroots, he always insisted that “you dismiss Rawling’s political intuition and advice at your own peril”.

You were a bit too young to cross paths with me at Achimota School. However, I sometimes wonder whether you remember the very first time we met. It is indelibly etched in my mind. But I sometime worry and wonder whether I am hallucinating or being delusional. Frighteningly, I have never, since then, discussed the meeting with you or any of the friends who were instrumental in arranging it. It was in April 1982 at Burma Camp. I came down from Dakar, Senegal to see you. I believe you were then interviewing for a finance minister.

It was a life-changing experience for me. We talked at great length. You briefed me on the ever-threatening security situation. You explained to me the risks that you constantly faced in putting a lid on a potentially explosive situation—an uprising by the rank and file. And yes, you explained the events of June 1979 and I note that since then you have been very consistent in narrating the Hobson’s choice you perceived you were presented with. I remember that after listening to your detailed presentation of the challenges that you faced, I came to understand that you did not need a finance minister who would drag you into a Fund program before the political, economic and security situation in the country permitted it. It was also then that it dawned on me that “economists” (with their pretense of “analytical rigor”, optimum solutions, and fear of criticism from their peers) make very poor finance ministers.

I recently saw your moving reference to the late Albert David Osei in a television interview. You called him “Kuffour’s nephew”. It was a bitter reminder that “Owusu”, as Fiifi called him, was a friend, mentor, and sounding board we had in common. With respect to your democratic credentials and legitimacy, you had quite a few doubters. But I also remember how I convinced a cynic of the genuineness of your commitment to democratic governance and the legitimacy of the 1992 mandate when I revealed that my father John Evans Atta Mills (Snr) proudly voted for you. It was “the end of a debate”, as the doubter put it, because it shattered the myth that “intellectuals” did not support you.

But of course, I only got to know you “when we were in opposition”. I remember your visit(s) to my office, my hosting you at home (“Camp David” as you called it given your passion for trees), meetings in your hotel with Albert, and encounters at gatherings organized by your admirers and supporters in the Washington area. You would often corral me for “very important” discussions that always begun with your voice booming “tell your brother…”. I recall we agreed on a lot of things but always chose to disagree on the one subject that usually brought us together. But it was all good and we would go over the same “important discussions” again whenever we met. That is when I realized that we had one trait in common: we never give up when we are convinced of a point of view.

It is all a blur now and I cannot tell you how many such meetings we had. But it is impossible to forget the effect your visit(s) to my office had on my staff and other colleagues on the same floor as mine. Your engaging manner, your insistence on acknowledging everyone with a waving hand and your awareness that a gentle nod to a “nobody” could make someone’s day, was what defined you. This is what I call “naked charisma” that had a residual effect long after you had left. I even thought I detected that I gained many more “fans” with every visit of yours.

Fiifi was often accused by your detractors that he allowed himself to be “dragged into politics” by you. Nothing could be more nonsensical. You offered him the biggest gift of all: the opportunity to serve at the national stage. Fiifi would have been happy to serve in obscurity but you brought him out and constantly challenged him to do his very best. I confess that he once called you “a pain in the ass”. But don’t worry. He called me that all the time! He once caught himself in the nick of time when talking about me to a former colleague of mine (then Minister of State in Nigeria). He started with “frankly he is …”. But Fiifi was nothing, if not nimble on his feet. He quickly transformed it into “he keeps me on my feet”, gave me a wink while I burst out laughing. I wonder whether she realized what had just transpired.

There is no “Atta Mills legacy” without a “Rawlings legacy” and, for that, my family and I owe you a big thank you. We owe you. Ghana owes you. Africa owes you, and I dare say, the world owes you. At the risk of repeating myself, history will judge you very kindly. You were much too young to depart but, as I have grown to expect, the good ones always die too soon.

Fare thee well, J.J, and may you rest in perfect peace.