Apologize to her,” Kwaku screamed at the young man, strangling him at the colour of his shirt.
Some passerby’s looked on and others beat the young man too, calling him thief, “apologize to her” Kwaku ordered again but the young man wouldn’t speak, looking distraught and dirty, his head bent to avoid more slaps from finding his face.
Before he could stop himself, Kwaku folded his hand into a fist and punched the man in his jaw, “apologize” he screamed and this time around, the thief coughed the words, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”— apologies meant for Ada who was standing not too far away, shaken from the attempted robbery incident. Kwaku shoved the young thief into the hands of some other guys who were suggesting they take him to the nearest police station. He turned his attention to Ada, “Are you okay,” quietly, he inquired.
“I’m fine” Ada replied, tears in her eyes.
The handbag she almost lost that late afternoon was still lying on the ground where the robber let it fall when Kwaku grabbed him. She still looked too traumatized, Kwaku thought. He went down and picked the bag for her. It was zipped and so her belongings were intact, “I’m so sorry. “It’s not your fault. It could have happened to anybody, but you should be more careful” Kwaku handed the handbag to her. It was a smooth dark brown crocodile skin Prada bag. Costly, he thought as Ada Ansah received her bag.
She was wearing a colourful sleeveless dress that reached her knees; her dark chocolate skin was glowing like that of an elegant fashion model, “Will you be okay?” Kwaku asked; concern all over his deep voice. Ada nodded gently, “Take this” Kwaku handed her a business card, “I’ll help you get into a Taxi and when you get to your destination, give me a call to let me know you’re alright” His eyes stayed on her face, communicating assurance, “You’re fine. You’re out of harm”
He allowed a faint smile on his full lips and Ada tried to relax, “thank you,” she said, working at finding her composure again. The time was a quarter past four on a Wednesday.