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Right opposite Reverend Dr. Ampiah Kwofi’s Ashonmang branch of the Global Revival Ministries, is an open ‘cholera-distribution agent’, popularly called Efo, who sprang up from nowhere but has sought solace in that part of Accra, perpetuating the undesirable. Not even his real name is known, except for that Ewe designation for an elderly man. Mysterious Efo, believed to be in his late 40s, had laid pipelines, which he connected to a stream at Mangolane, a suburb of Ashonmang near Adenta in Accra and with the aid of a generator set, pumps water into tankers and huge containers at a cost.  He operates his machines inside a bush across the stream, where he is assisted by a 25 year-old man, Timothy.

Mobile phone numbers have been displayed on a piece of wood and affixed to a tree at the supply area, on which Timothy could be reached if a customer needs water. Most of these people who call him are his regular customers; he does not hesitate to start the machine when they register their presence.

The tankers receive their water supply in an open area close to the premises of the Global Revival Ministries – a very bushy place, surrounded by filth and stagnant water, arguably serving as a comfort home for mosquitoes. The park is a few metres away from Efo’s operational area in the bush.

The roads are deteriorated due to the activities of the vehicles. This has compelled residents to, on a regular basis, draw Efo’s attention to them. But the man always threatens them with his magical powers. This keeps the complainants mute; they confessed to have either personally experienced or heard of the mystical handiworks of Efo.

As a result, the entire face of Mangolane is overwhelmed with mud, creating inconvenience for residents who want to access their homes anytime it rained. This history of the Ashonmang suburb causes residents to ponder over why sound Ghanaian citizens would throng there for water.

Surprisingly, there are times struggles become an inevitable part of getting the right measure of water. And as it stands in the midst of the current water shortage, mad rush best describes the to and fro movement of these vehicles, both company-owned and private, for Efo’s contaminated water. The water supply mainly extends to residents of Agbogba, Haatso and surrounding areas.

These were the details of the sad development forwarded to this reporter, who acted with dispatch to ascertain its veracity. It was a scorching Tuesday afternoon and the time, 2.30pm. Tongues-speaking followers of Reverend Dr. Ampiah Kwofie were seriously expressing their love for God in their uncompleted church auditorium.

Apart from the noise from the children of God, other parts of the area were relatively quiet. Less than 30 people could be seen at the time of the visit. After appreciating the vicinity for some minutes, the sharp lenses of The Chronicle captured Efo’s water supply area. There was a wooden bench under a shade and that was where this reporter began his experiment. The first object that greeted him was the display of the advert, “0505…, 02439…”.

These mobile phone numbers are reserved for those in need of Efo’s ‘God-sent’ water. Then there was the physical environment, thickly covered with plastic waste, stagnant water and overgrown weeds.
In fact, the stench generated in the open area on which is located a single unattractive room, was uncontainable. The water connection pipe was freely left on the fungi-infested ground. The whole place looked green.

What does it take a driver to draw water into his tanker? That was what Pascal was eager to know. After waiting for close to 45 minutes without any show, Pascal considered tracing the pipeline to the water generation point. He walked past the Global Revival Ministries to link a stream which folks in the neighbourhood could cross by walking on a very weak piece of wood. And that leads to another suburb, Downtown.

Presumably a ghost town, this reporter asked residents about the water situation there. The responses were not welcoming. There are countable numbers of households with boreholes; the chunk of them purchase sachet water for consumption and use water from the stream for washing. For those in the poverty bracket, water from the stream serves a multipurpose.

To substantiate this, was the sight of a 13-year-old girl, Sandra, who had gone to the stream to fetch water. She was clear in her explanation that she fetched water for her mother from that source on a daily basis. “Sometimes we cook with it; at other times we don’t cook with it when my mother has money to buy sachet water to prepare food.”

Sandra mentioned that a man with a big tank in his house used to supply the entire area with water, but it had been a month of Sundays since he opened his gates to them. She would not forget the daily rendition of her townsfolk, which is that, acute water shortage, remains the bane for residents of Mangolane and Downtown.

Then came Tina and Ewurabena, who minced no words in directing this reporter to Efo’s hideout, when a request for the purchase of a tanker full of water was made. As this reporter got closer with them, the noise from his machine was clearly heard and that gave the indication that some of his customers were at work.

While curiously crossing the bridge, a careful assessment was conclusive of the unwholesome nature of the water being sold out to unsuspecting members of the society. The water body was green and garbage-filled. At that time, a young woman with a baby at her back was busily scooping water from Efo’s stream.

It was unbelievably staggering the sight that beheld The Chronicle at the water supply point. A driver, who had parked his water tanker and was having it filled, carelessly sat on the wooden bench in the filth-engulfed surrounding, as he ate his neatly-packaged fast food. “How much do you charge for a tanker full of water?” asked this reporter?

The driver, an alien to the Queens’s language, responded “15GHp,” which drew a loud surprise. Apparently, he thought the price concerned the unit cost of a bucket of water. Not knowing, after the drivers have paid for their consignments to Efo, they allow residents around to fetch from them for a pittance, between 10 GHp and 15 GHp. It was no wonder women and children surrounded his company vehicle with buckets and pans to collect water.

This reporter’s conversation took a different dimension. This time, it was in the driver’s local Akan dialect, Twi. Translated, he said, “The 15GHp I mentioned was the charge for a bucket of water,” explaining that he and his colleague drivers did that to help those who did not want to fetch directly from the stream.

Asked about Efo’s charge per tanker, Kofi responded: “You see, mine is the small type and so I pay GHC30. The charge depends on the size of the tanker.” Kofi at times resells the water, at the blind side of his employers, for GHC80. This applies to only short distances.

Kofi would not agree that the charge was on the high side as he argued that it came from a reliable source and as such could achieve any purpose at all. “We use it to prepare food for our customers; they bath it and so on,” he confessed.

Moments later, Razak, also with a tanker, appeared. He made it clear that he could not supply the water to this reporter, who had made the request, saying in pidgin English, which translated as: “The tanker belongs to my company and it is not allowed to do so.”

His vehicle was a larger one and he mentioned GHC65 as the amount of money he pays to Efo per load. Razak’s position on the kind of water they buy from Efo was not different from Kofi’s. According to Razak: “This water is good for drinking and cooking. You don’t have any problem if you want to drink or cook with the water. Can’t you see the women and the children fetching it?” he asked rhetorically, as he pointed at them fetching water from his yellow tanker.

He added that although the man got to know that some drivers allow the townsfolk to fetch from their tankers, there’s little he could do to stop them. “The man will not start the machine because of them. He will tell you the cost of fuel is high,” that was Razak.

The views of residents were also sought. These were their take: “People always complain about epidemic but they don’t know where it comes from. This is one of the sources. Efo was operating somewhere else but they could not tolerate his illegal action so they sacked him and he is now here selling cholera to the public. We want the government to intervene and stop him for us,” a resident pointed out.

The Chronicle also took a closer look at the road network. They were out of shape and one other resident cried out: “Efo is destroying our roads. When we complain, he threatens to kill us. He says anyone who reports him to the authorities will die.”