Chapter 14-The People’s Voice.

Eric Nyarko sat quietly in a small wooden chair, listening to the market women argue over the rising cost of goods. It was a humid afternoon in Makola Market, and the air smelled of fresh onions, smoked fish, and ripe plantains. The sun burned mercilessly, but that did not stop the traders from going about their business, shouting over one another to attract customers.

"Ei, Aunty Grace, you too, you've increased your price again?" a frustrated woman complained, holding up a basket of tomatoes.

"What can I do?" Aunty Grace shot back. "You people think we enjoy this? Every day, new tax, new rule, but nobody asks us what we think. We are just here, suffering."

Eric nodded to himself. This was the same complaint he had been hearing across Ghana. People were excited about his movement, but when it came to decisions that affected them directly, they felt powerless.

That night, as he sat in his modest office, he stared at the city lights through his window. He had transformed Ghana in many ways, but one thing had not changed—ordinary people still had no say in how the country was run. The system was still controlled by a few, and that had to change.

Then, the idea struck him like lightning. What if the people could directly influence policies? Not just by voting every four years, but every single day?

The next morning, Eric gathered his closest team members. "I have a plan," he announced. "We will create a system where every Ghanaian can suggest policies, debate them, and vote on them."

His chief advisor, Kwesi Boateng, looked skeptical. "It's a good idea, but the politicians will never allow it. You are asking them to share power with the people."

"Then let them fight," Eric said. "If Ghana belongs to all of us, then the people must have a voice."

The Birth of 'The People's Voice'

The initiative was launched under the name "The People's Voice." It was a digital platform, but for those without internet access, local community centers were set up with suggestion boxes and discussion forums. Every week, the top five issues raised by Ghanaians would be debated in Parliament, and every month, a national vote would be held on the most important policies.

The response was overwhelming. From farmers in the north to fishermen in the coastal towns, everyone saw hope in the new system. Town halls were packed with people eager to contribute ideas.

In Kumasi, an old cocoa farmer raised his hand at a meeting. "We've been saying for years that cocoa farmers deserve better pay. Now we finally have a way to push it through."

In Takoradi, a young nurse spoke passionately. "We work long hours, but the hospitals are understaffed. If enough people vote on it, we can demand more healthcare funding!"

Eric watched as the people of Ghana—young and old, rich and poor—finally had a way to shape their future.

Enemies in the Shadows

But not everyone was pleased. In a dimly lit office in Accra, a group of influential politicians sat in silence, watching a news report on The People's Voice. The reporter was excitedly explaining how citizens would now have direct input into government decisions.

One of the men leaned forward and switched off the TV. "This boy is dangerous," he muttered. "If we allow this to continue, we will lose control."

Another, a veteran politician, sighed. "He is making the people believe they have power. That is a problem."

"We must stop him," the first man said firmly. "Before it's too late."

A Warning in the Dark

That night, as Eric prepared for bed, his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. He hesitated, then answered.

A deep voice spoke. "You're making enemies you don't understand, Eric Nyarko. Stop now, or you will regret it."

The line went dead.

Eric sat in silence, staring at his phone. He had expected resistance, but this was different. This was a warning. A threat.

Still, he was not afraid.

If building a better Ghana meant making enemies, then so be it.

He would not stop now.