Missing UEW Lecturer found buried in his home, one arrested
A few years ago, I visited Winneba for a friend’s graduation. I remember the town feeling like one big exhale quiet, easy, with salty air and this comforting buzz of student life. People greeted you like they’d known you forever, and the university campus felt like the heart of everything. So, when I heard about the mysterious death of a lecturer there… it hit different.
You know how news sometimes feels far away, like it's just part of the noise from your Twitter feed or the radio in the trotro? This one didn’t. This one lingered.
His name was Mr. Blankson (or something close details are still fuzzy, even now), and from all I’ve gathered, he wasn’t just a lecturer. He was that type of lecturer who actually cared you know, the ones who remembered your name, asked how your weekend went, and somehow still managed to make Research Methods sound interesting. Students said he’d stay after class to explain things again, even if he was clearly tired. Others said he gave his own money to help someone pay their fees. It wasn’t just a job to him. That’s what makes everything surrounding his death even more heartbreaking.
From what I heard, he was found dead under circumstances that just don’t add up. Some said it was suicide. Others claimed foul play. I even heard one wild story about him being involved in something “spiritual.” Honestly, it’s hard to tell what’s true and what’s just the usual rumor mill spinning full speed. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? When the facts are quiet, the whispers get louder.
(And let’s be real Ghanaian communities love a mystery. A little too much sometimes.)
What bugs me the most, though, is how quickly people moved on. One minute, his photo was circulating everywhere status updates, Instagram stories, WhatsApp groups. Candle emojis. "Rest in peace, Sir." The next minute? Silence. Like his life was reduced to a headline and a few online posts that eventually got buried under football scores and TikTok dances.
I might be wrong, but I think we don’t know how to process uncomfortable things like this. We just want to explain it away or forget it fast because we’re scared it could happen to us or someone we love.
But death shouldn’t just be a passing topic. Especially not this kind of death.
Because somewhere out there, a mother lost her son. A student lost a mentor. A community lost a voice that mattered.
It makes me think: How many people are walking around looking okay, but battling storms inside? How many lecturers, nurses, pastors people we assume have it all together are drowning quietly?
Maybe we owe it to people like Mr. Blankson to stop just scrolling past and start actually seeing each other. Checking in. Asking the hard questions. Listening not just to respond, but to hear. Maybe the real mystery isn’t just about how he died. but how we keep letting people fade into the background until it's too late.
I don’t have all the answers. Heck, I don’t even know if we’ll ever find out what really happened that night. But what I do know is this: his life mattered. His death should too.
Rest in peace, sir. May your story spark the kind of conversations we’ve been avoiding for far too long.
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