The escarpment was quiet. Dry air hung over the compound—like a held breath. A pickup truck rolled to a stop at the entrance of Savannah Lodge, its tires crunching the gravel. Inside sat two directors from Hospitality Associates: Mr. Aanani, Director of Operations, and Ms. Yawa-Attah, Director of Training and Strategy. They had come with a plan. A schedule. A contract. But no one was waiting.
Aanani stepped out first, scanning the compound. No welcome team. No briefing desk. Just the distant sound of baboons and the rustle of dry leaves. The scent of acacia trees wafted through the air, mingling with the dust kicked up by their arrival.
Yawa-Attah unfolded the handover report from her satchel, flipping to the page marked “Key Contacts.” The names were there. The signatures too. All the groundwork had been done in Accra. Documents copied to the Park Manager. But no one had stayed behind.
Mr. Aanani and Yawa-Attah were coated in dust—from head to toe—after the relentless Fulfulso-Damongo-Larabanga stretch of road. The two-hour drive had been unforgiving. They needed to wash down before anything else.
They walked toward the office labeled “Reception.” The door was unlocked.
“No security measures?” Yawa-Attah remarked.
Inside, the ledger lay open. Mr. Aanani glanced at the pages. The last entry was dated three days ago. A mop leaned against the wall.
Aanani turned to Yawa-Attah. She nodded, jotting observations into her notepad.
Just then, a side door creaked open. Two staff members emerged—Kojo, the lodge’s senior receptionist, and Mariam, a food service staff member with a quiet demeanor. Their uniforms were faded, but their posture was respectful. They welcomed the directors warmly. They had been informed of the new management.
After a short chat, Kojo led them to their “best rooms”—chalets offering more space than the standard rooms. Inside, the rooms were clean but bare: two single beds, a rickety wardrobe, a ceiling fan that groaned with every rotation, and an air conditioner that made a loud noise.
Yawa-Attah was checked in first. Mr. Aanani’s room was two doors away. Both had private terraces facing a stunning view of the waterholes. The sunset over the savannah left Yawa-Attah speechless; nature’s charm welcomed them.
They agreed to meet at the restaurant in 45 minutes.
Yawa-Attah requested hot water for her bath. Kojo, fumbling, explained that it needed to be prepared in the kitchen. He removed a bucket from her room. She didn’t mind waiting.
As she waited, Yawa-Attah recalled the events that had brought them to this moment.
Recognizing the need for specialized oversight, GhEnergy, in partnership with other stakeholders, had initiated a strategic shift: transitioning the motel’s operations from direct park management to professional hospitality stewardship. The decision to bring in Hospitality Associates had not been without its challenges, but their proposal—supported by a tourism consultant’s recommendation—had ultimately won out.
The formal handover was documented in a report titled “Motel Project Review”, marking a pivotal moment in the lodge’s operational history. In an acceptance letter dated 23rd February 1996, Hospitality Associates outlined a structured takeover plan, including staffing, strategic planning, infrastructure renewal, procurement, and governance. The transition was carefully scheduled across several phases, with a letter dated 5th March 1996 confirming the governing body’s approval.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Her bucket of hot water was being delivered. She smiled, grateful for the interruption, and began to prepare for the challenges ahead.
In his room, Mr. Aanani glanced at the cracked sink and the thin towel folded on the bed.
By the time they returned to the dining area, freshly bathed and slightly revived, Mariam had already taken their dinner order. The meal arrived just after sunset. The tuo zaafi was soft and warm, the groundnut soup rich and aromatic—layered with spice and a hint of dawadawa.
Both directors paused after the first bite. They laughed quietly—the kind of laugh that comes from shared fatigue and cautious optimism.
Outside, the night settled over Savannah Lodge.
“It’s a shame the swimming pool is empty,” said Yawa-Attah.
“Look up,” she added, eyes wide with wonder. “I don’t remember seeing this many stars in Accra. Not even in Obuasi.”
Mr. Aanani looked skyward. “The rooms are modest,” he said.
Yawa-Attah studied him for a moment. “Hmm… the soup is good. But there’s work ahead.”
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by the operational experiences and sectoral engagements of Hospitality Associates and its collaborators. While the narrative draws upon real industry contexts, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events is purely coincidental. Characters, locations, and scenarios have been fictionalized or amalgamated to serve educational and storytelling purposes. The intent is not to critique individuals or institutions, but to distill operational insight through dramatic narrative.