She Was Just 18: A Tragic Shock at Antwi Agyei Nkwanta
A few years ago, I remember walking into a small carpentry shop near my uncle’s place. I still hear the buzz of the machines, the sharp smell of wood dust stuck in my nose for hours. Back then, I thought the worst that could happen was a splinter or maybe a hammer on your toe if you weren’t careful. But never, not in my wildest, sleep-deprived dreams, did I think a young life could be snatched away by a simple spark.
Yet, here we are. An 18-year-old girl, full of all the dreams we hold at that age—love, freedom, TikTok videos, maybe saving up for a wig or a phone—gone. Just like that. She was working at a Chinese plywood company at Antwi Agyei Nkwanta (I had to check twice if I’d spelt it right, funny how some places you’ve never even heard of suddenly feel so close).
They say she got electrocuted while trying to turn off a machine. Imagine that. One minute you’re clocking out, wiping sweat off your forehead, probably thinking of your dinner or chatting with a colleague. The next—bam—your whole future melts into the cold floor.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write about this. It’s heavy. But we can’t keep pretending these things don’t happen. I mean, how many times have you seen frayed wires in local shops? Or those rusty extension cords that look like they’d zap you if you so much as breathed near them? It’s our reality. We sweep safety under the carpet until someone’s child pays with their life.
In my opinion (and I may be wrong, but I doubt it), we treat our workers like disposable parts in a big, humming machine. Especially when it’s foreign companies. You see the big signboards, “Modern Plywood Ltd.” or whatever—nice branding, but behind it? People are sweating for pennies. No proper training. No protective gear. No respect for the fact that, hello, electricity kills.
What if that girl was your sister? Your cousin? Would you feel okay knowing she died turning off a switch? That’s what haunts me.
Sometimes I scroll through social media late at night, looking at fancy factories abroad—safety vests, gloves, warning signs everywhere. Meanwhile, here we act like common sense is too expensive to import. I mean, come on, is it?
And here’s a side thought: why do we keep letting some of these companies cut corners? We’d rather have a Chinese plywood company than none at all, so we hush hush about the dangers. It’s like we’re so hungry for jobs we’ll risk anything. But is it really worth it if a young life ends before it’s even begun?
This story—it’s more than just another headline buried under election dramas and football arguments. It’s a reminder that behind every cheap plywood board or shiny export, there’s a pair of hands—sometimes tiny, sometimes trembling—making it happen.
So next time you see that flickering bulb in your own room, or that naked wire snaking behind your fridge, pause. Think of her. And ask yourself: when did we decide some lives were worth so little?
What do you think it’ll take for us to care before the next tragedy strikes?