Some arrivals are marked on official schedules. Others are etched into the soul of a nation.
At dawn on Saturday, March 29, 2025, Kumasi didn’t just rise with the sun-it stood in sacred
stillness. The anticipation in the air was electric, as though history itself had chosen this moment to
pause and watch. There were no sirens, no grand announcements. And yet, the people knew:
Kennedy Ohene Agyapong was coming home.
The newly inaugurated Prempeh International Airport transformed into a scene of pure celebration.
It was more than a welcome; it was a homecoming. Flags waved like beating hearts, drums echoed
ancestral rhythms, and the people-young and old-gathered with radiant joy before the aircraft’s
wheels touched the tarmac.

When he finally emerged, calm and purposeful, the crowd erupted-not with surprise, but with
reverence. To them, Ken was more than a politician. He was the voice of truth, the son of the land, a
man who bore the scars of struggle and the soul of the people.
A stately convoy escorted him through the city’s veins, winding toward Adum PZ, where Kumasi’s
bustling spirit had long thrived. As the convoy moved, memories stirred-especially near the Subin
River, now tamed by concrete. The scene brought to mind one of the great Ashanti kings, Nana
Agyeman Prempeh I:
“When I was leaving for my Abrokyire, (Seychelles Islands), Subin was not cemented… but look at it
now, it’s been cemented.”

Standing on that historic ground, Ken’s thoughts turned to his roots. He remembered his late
mother, Obaa Panin Mary Nsiah, who once sold wares on a wooden table in Okainshi, Makola. He
recalled his younger self-hawking on the hot streets of Accra-not with shame, but with deep pride.
That road had built him. And now, it had brought him full circle.
But joy turned quickly to sorrow.
Just days prior, fire had swept through Adum PZ, reducing hundreds of stalls and shops to ash and
anguish. Livelihoods were lost. Futures, shaken. But Ken did not send a statement from afar. He
came.

He walked-humbly and silently-from Prison Roundabout into the heart of the devastation. No red
carpets. No loudspeakers. Only charred earth, twisted metal, dangling wires, and rain-soaked
rubble. The market, once alive, stood ghostly quiet. And still, he walked.
Then, with heartfelt gravity, he addressed the crowd:

“I thank God that no lives were lost. That alone is grace. I am not here because of politics. I am here
because we are all Ghanaians-one people, one pain, one future. I’ve been where you are. That’s
why I came-not to speak at you, but to listen. So together, we can rebuild.”
The words hung in the air like incense-honest, healing, human.
Then action followed. With one hand, he raised an envelope containing GHS 100,000, a donation
for the affected traders. With the other, he announced the provision of 200 streetlights, to be
installed across the area. A gesture not just of aid, but of assurance.
“Let light return, not only to our streets, but to our future.”

And the people shouted with joy and exuberance. Not from despair-but from the overwhelming
grace of someone who had once walked in their shoes and had now returned to walk beside them
again. But Ken’s mission didn’t end there.

He later met with the Ashanti Regional Minister, Dr. Frank Amoakohene, and his team. Together,
they affirmed a shared goal: that beyond politics and party lines, Ghanaians must unite to build
sustainably-not just for the victims of Adum PZ, but for the entire Ashanti Region.
Dr. Amoakohene, appointed in January 2025, is both a seasoned medical professional and a
dedicated public servant. His presence alongside Ken signaled something rare in Ghanaian
politics-genuine bipartisanship, rooted in love for the people.
That day in Kumasi was not about party colours. It was about healing. About restoration. About
legacy.
And so, in a city lifted not by spectacle but by sincerity, a different fire was lit-one not of destruction,
but of dignity, hope, and the relentless will to rise.
Kennedy Agyapong did not return for applause. He returned to remind a people of their power. To
walk with them in their pain. To spark a light in the ashes.
His presence was not a headline. It was a message.
That true leadership does not arrive with a crown-it walks barefoot through broken ground.
At the airport entrance, a graceful young lady stepped forward and offered Ken a bouquet of
beautifully assorted flowers-a gesture of warmth, friendship, and love. Moments later, Chairman
Amankwah, the respected former NPP Chairman for the Ashanti Region, stepped in with a symbolic
gesture of his own-draping a finely woven kente strip around Ken’s neck. It was not just tradition. It
was a homecoming rite, rich with color and meaning, welcoming him once more to the land that
raised him.