Not Without Help - Austin Amissah (1930 - 2001), an Autobiography of my Earlier Years, Austin Amissah

My justification for indulging in these reminiscences is simple. For many years, I have been trying to persuade our older people to write their memoirs. Most of them cannot be bothered to spend their time writing. For one thing, it is not easy to work oneself into that discipline which writing requires. But an even more serious objection they have is to enquire who would be interested in reading about their lives. They consider their recollections trivia. While I was a Trustee of the Valco Fund, I tried to do something about overcoming the first difficulty: if one could not write down regularly what would constitute a memoir, one could from time to time just talk about the events of one's past. With the support of my old teacher and friend, Dr. Modjabeng Dowuona, we got the Trustees to recommend and to fund the purchase of recording equipment and to appoint an editor who would visit the various personalities whose personal lives were to be recorded and get them just to ramble about the past. It was the editor's duty after that to edit what he had got and to make a consistent story about it. This was the beginning of the oral history programme which the Fund introduced.

My only regret was that by the time the equipment was obtained and an editor was appointed, many more of our people whose personal histories would have been worth recording had died. What a rich store could have been gathered if we had got people like the members of the Big Six who never wrote of their lives to have left us with their views of what they saw happen? I once asked Chief Justice Akuffo Addo how Nkrumah became the Secretary General of the United Gold Coast Convention. His reaction was interesting. Of course by now he had long parted with Nkrumah, and must have sincerely believed that most of the woes of Ghana had been brought on to the country by Nkrumah. “Hm...” he said almost in distress, “It was Ako Adjei. When we wanted someone to be the Secretary General to organise the party, Ako Adjei said he had a friend in England who had the ability to do just what we wanted. He was not doing anything in particular, at that time, and he was sure he would be happy to take on the job if invited.” From this a series of events was set in train which was to revolutionise Gold Coast society. I wanted Akuffo Addo to write his memoirs but he died without doing so.

There are other distinguished sons and daughters of Ghana in the public services, politics, education, medicine, law, and the traditional Chiefs, etc. From all these, we would have had a substantial amount of material which our historians could have used in presenting the fascinating history of our times. Apart from the national politicians who tend to write their contributions anyway, I would have liked to read the memoirs of Ghanaians like, for example, Sir Henley Coussey, Sir Leslie McCarthy, Sir Arku Korsah, the first Ghanaian Chief Justice, Sir Emmanuel Quist, J.S. Manyo Plange, K. Adumua Bossman and N.A. Ollenu, in the legal field, Amishadai Adu, Enoch Okoh, I.K. Impraim and Lawrence Apaloo, all Secretaries to the Cabinet or close thereto, the Paramount Chief, Nene Azzu Mate Korle, the Police Chief, John Harlley ~~Harley~~, in the public service field. But they all departed this world carrying their stories with them. In the case of Manyo Plange, I actually started to record his memoirs, but that was when he was, unbeknown to me, on his death bed, and I, in an attempt to be comprehensive, started from his childhood. He died just when he had got to telling about his return from England to join the Gold Coast Police Force and his courtship of his wife, Gladys. Others like Ephraim Amu, our great composer and music teacher; Robert Gardiner, the distinguished international Civil Servant; Fred Apaloo, the former Chief Justice; Charles Easmon, the surgeon and first head of the Ghana Medical School; Daniel Chapman-Nyaho, the former Secretary to the Cabinet; Major Seth Anthony, the soldier and diplomat, are still fortunately with us. ¹ Ambassador K.B. Asante, for example, seems to be one of the few remaining of those who worked closely with Kwame Nkrumah on his foreign policy initiatives in Africa. It is my hope that they would not treat us the same way. What they have to tell would throw Ghanaian history, political, economic and social development into quite colourful and better relief. I have badgered quite a number of them, both living and dead, to record their reminiscences. They, in turn, would sometimes ask me why I did not write about my experiences. I do not judge these experiences to be as rich as those that I have wanted to see. But it is only fair that I should try my own hand at what I have been preaching all these years. I recognise one problem which Africans face in publishing an objective and critical work involving personalities: the fear of making enemies. In our society, enemies could be made not only on an individual basis but involving whole families and friends. To write anything damaging of another, however truthful or correct, might lead to ostracism by those whose company you might otherwise prefer. The easiest way out is to have the material written published after one's death. But it seems to be a cowardly way. I hope some of us would risk this ostracism in the pursuit of truth. Such writing in itself may help the development of a check on individual conduct in public office. The other weakness to which I think we are prone is the undue respect and praise we heap on the dead. However bad a person is, in death he seems to develop some qualities which he would have been surprised to hear attributed to him during his life-time. Those who speak of him speak in superlatives of goodness. That, of course, would give an erroneous balance to the contribution of the deceased actors in our society. It is a fault which we have to consciously work against when assessing action in contemporary history.

The other reason for these reminiscences is to discharge an obligation to my son, Ralph. Some of the stories which I am about to tell, he has heard told from time to time. He had always asked that I preserve them for him in a more permanent form. Stella, my wife, as well as Tonesan and Juliet, my daughters, supported this idea.

In consonance with what I had asked from others, what I produce is no more than a series of ramblings from my memories of the past. It is not intended as a historical account of events in which I was involved, nor is it a political, social or economic commentary on the times. It is not a story of an angry African writing of the injustices which have been suffered by his people or his race. It is a story of a person who has been relatively lucky in life told largely in an impressionistic form. And it mostly consists of anecdotal recollections. It is hoped that, accidentally, something of historical interest may come out.

The title Not Without Help was chosen because I have gone through life so far with the help, quite often of a number of identifiable persons who, without solicitation, have taken an interest in me. Starting from my family, of course, a reading of the book would indicate how much I owe at various times of my life to people like Peter Rendall, who was my last headmaster at Achimota School, Sir Henley and Sir Samuel Okai Quashie-Idun, the judges, and Geoffrey Bing, my Attorney General between 1957 and 1961. I must mention in this category also Kwaw-Swanzy, my Attorney General from 1962 until Nkrumah's overthrow in 1966, and Kofi Asante Ofori Atta, the Minister of Justice at various times in the Nkrumah Government. In the past ten years, my supreme sponsor has been Erik Sande of Norway. But I exclude most of that period from this part of my reminiscences, as being too near. Another day, I may be able to tell that story. But to all these I would like through this book to acknowledge my tremendous debt and to extend my warmest thanks to them. I am fully aware that some of the persons described have been controversial; even friends would had considered my association with some of them objectionable and disagreeable. Geoffrey Bing, for example, was almost universally reviled in Ghana. I found to my surprise, when Nkrumah was overthrown, that next to Nkrumah, Kwaw-Swanzy was the most disliked person among the elite of the country. That does not diminish my obligation or gratitude to them, and I tell my story as I found it.

Two institutions made the greatest impact on my life: Achimota School and Jesus College, Oxford. I have been a member of Lincoln's Inn in London since 1950 but apart from calling me to the profession of Barrister and my using its excellent law library from time to time, its influence has been minimal.

The reader might find my constant references to associations with successful Ghanaians, Africans or black people generally, whom I have known, rather trying. I cannot help that. The period I write about has been the period of black emancipation, offering vast opportunities and openings to us to handle all kinds of problems. The beginning of that period was with Ghana's independence followed by others in West Africa and the Caribbean. In this development, the role of secondary schools like Achimota, one of the few offering that level of education in Africa, and Oxford University, bringing together young men and women from all over the Commonwealth and Colonies and beyond, has been tremendous. I just happen to have been in both places during the relevant time.

Preface