Chapter 1:
The Disappearance in New Legon
It was a sunny Tuesday morning in the small village of New Legon, a place where even the goats seemed to have Wi-Fi. The village wasn’t particularly large, but every single person was glued to their phones, from elders on Facebook to kids playing online games. Life in New Legon revolved around the internet, and one girl, in particular, Afia, a bright and curious 15-year-old, was at the heart of it all.
Afia was known for being tech-savvy. She could troubleshoot a frozen computer with just a glance, reset a router with the precision of a surgeon, and was the village’s go-to person for anything digital. She had even started teaching her grandmother how to use YouTube to watch cooking videos. Afia was proud of her status as New Legon’s resident tech guru. Life without the internet? Unthinkable.
But that Tuesday, something bizarre happened at exactly 9:00 AM. The internet—New Legon’s lifeblood—vanished. Gone, as if it had never existed. Wi-Fi routers blinked helplessly, phones became fancy paperweights, and even the mighty Afia, who always had an answer for everything, stared in disbelief at her phone. “No connection,” it read. The villagers, accustomed to the steady hum of technology, were left in complete shock.
“Maybe it’s just a glitch,” Afia muttered, trying to reassure herself. But when 30 minutes passed, and the connection hadn’t returned, panic set in.
New Legon descended into chaos. Afia’s grandmother was stuck in the middle of a YouTube tutorial on how to make fufu. “How do I finish the recipe?!” she wailed. The village shopkeeper, who usually calculated change using his phone, stared blankly at the confused customers. “Math? Without a calculator? Is that even possible?”
The local influencers, who were forever posting selfies, ran frantically through the streets. “How will my followers know about my new outfit?” one cried. “What if they think I’ve disappeared?” Afia couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
In the centre of the village, Afia found herself surrounded by panicked neighbours. “Afia! You know everything about the internet! Can’t you fix this?” someone shouted.
Afia, feeling the weight of expectation, hurried to the community centre where the village’s main router was housed. She tried everything—restarting, resetting, even pleading with the blinking lights—but nothing worked.
By noon, the villagers had to accept the truth. The internet wasn’t coming back. And for the first time in years, they had no idea what to do with themselves.
But Afia, ever the optimist, wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Maybe,” she thought, “there’s something we’ve forgotten. Something we can do without relying on the internet.”
As the day dragged on, the villagers began to venture out into the real world. For the first time in years, people were talking—actually talking. Kids who had only ever known the glow of their screens started playing outside, chasing each other in games of tag. Afia smiled as she watched her younger brother, Kofi, rediscover the ancient art of hide-and-seek.
Even Afia’s grandmother, after grumbling about her lost cooking video, decided to share her knowledge the old-fashioned way. She called the neighbours over and began teaching them how to make fufu from memory, and soon, the whole village was learning hands-on from the elder.
By evening, the village had begun to transform. It was as if New Legon had found its voice again, not through texts or social media, but through conversation, laughter, and togetherness.
As Afia lay in bed that night, staring at her phone one last time, she couldn’t help but wonder. “What if we don’t really need the internet as much as we think we do?”
But little did she know, the next day would change New Legon even more.
Chapter 2:
A World Beyond the Screen
The second day dawned in New Legon, and Afia awoke to the same disheartening sight—her phone still reading “No connection.” She sighed, but something felt different today. There wasn’t as much panic in the air. In fact, the village was already alive with activity—people were outside, greeting each other, engaging in conversation, and children were playing in the streets as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Afia stepped outside and saw her neighbour, Mr. Ofori, dusting off a long-forgotten bicycle. “Can you believe it, Afia?” he chuckled. “I haven’t ridden this thing in years. Thought I’d forgotten how!”
She smiled and continued walking through the village. Where there used to be a constant sea of heads bent over phones, now people were sitting together, chatting, and even laughing. It was like New Legon had been revived in ways no one could have expected.
Afia’s first stop was her friend Ama’s house. Ama, who was notorious for scrolling through Instagram during conversations, was now deep in a game of Ludu with her siblings. “Want to join?” Ama called out, waving her over.
Afia sat down, surprised at how much she was enjoying this new pace of life. Without the pressure of staying connected online, she had time to focus on the things—and people—right in front of her. Even the village elders were out and about, gathering under the big baobab tree, sharing stories of how they used to live before the internet arrived.
As the day wore on, Afia found herself wandering to the village square. To her surprise, a large crowd had gathered, and in the centre stood the village chief, addressing the people.
“My brothers and sisters,” he began, “we’ve lived for so long connected to a world beyond these walls, but in doing so, we’ve forgotten the world right here. Our ancestors didn’t need the internet to thrive. They had each other.”
The villagers nodded in agreement. There was a sense of pride in the air—a rediscovery of the simpler things in life. Afia felt a strange peace settle over her. She missed the internet, sure, but she didn’t miss the distractions that came with it.
By the evening, the town square had turned into a vibrant hub of activity. Children were playing games, elders were telling stories, and Afia found herself sitting with her grandmother, learning how to make traditional kente cloth. Her grandmother smiled as she watched Afia work. “You’re learning, child. This is how we passed time before the internet came along.”
Afia smiled back, the rhythmic weaving of the cloth calming her. “Maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” she thought.
But just as things were settling into this new rhythm, the next day would bring the unexpected—something Afia and the village of New Legon could never have anticipated.
Chapter 3:
A New Beginning for Afia and New Legon
On the third day, as the sun rose over New Legon, something remarkable happened.
Afia had barely stepped outside when she noticed a shift in the air—a feeling of calm but also excitement. People were out early, already gathering in the village square. She hurried over, curious about what was happening. When she arrived, she found the village chief standing at the centre, holding a device in his hand.
“The internet has returned,” he announced, his voice carrying through the crowd. There was a murmur of surprise and excitement. Phones buzzed to life, Wi-Fi signals reappeared, and for a moment, the villagers stood frozen, unsure whether to celebrate or not.
But to Afia’s surprise, the reaction wasn’t what she had expected. Instead of rushing back to their screens, the villagers looked at each other, hesitant. Over the past few days, they had learned something important—life wasn’t defined by the internet.
At the edge of the square stood a figure who had watched all this unfold with quiet dignity: Rev. Sr. Mary Patricia Asante, a 51-year-old nun who had returned to New Legon after decades away. Known for her wisdom and calm presence, she was a respected figure both in and outside the village. Her eyes twinkled with quiet amusement as she observed the crowd, and Afia noticed her for the first time since her return.
Sr. Mary Patricia had been one of the first people to see the potential risks of over-reliance on technology. She had spent years working as a teacher and a counsellor in cities far away from New Legon, witnessing how the internet had consumed people’s lives. Now, having returned to the village, she was quietly pleased to see her old community rediscovering the importance of real connection.
As the murmurs of excitement began to die down, Afia stepped forward. “Chief, maybe we can use the internet, but not let it control us. We’ve seen how much we can enjoy life without it.”
The crowd nodded in agreement, and the chief smiled. “Perhaps you’re right, Afia. We’ve learned something valuable these past few days.”
At that moment, Sr. Mary Patricia raised her hand, and the chief gestured for her to speak. The crowd parted respectfully as she stepped forward, her flowing white habit catching the morning breeze.
“Dear friends,” she began, her voice warm and steady, “I have been watching the events of the last few days with great interest. The internet is a powerful tool, yes, but like any tool, it must be used wisely. We cannot let it replace the deep connections we share with one another. These bonds, forged through face-to-face conversation, laughter, and love, are the foundation of our humanity.”
The villagers listened intently, her words resonating with the experience they had lived through in the past two days. Sr. Mary Patricia had a way of speaking that made everyone feel like they were part of something bigger, something meaningful.
“As many of you know, I left New Legon many years ago to serve in cities where technology was a constant presence,” she continued. “I saw how it pulled people away from their families, from their neighbours, and even from themselves. I am not saying we should reject it outright. No, we must learn to live with it, but we must not forget who we are without it.”
Her gaze fell on Afia, and she smiled. “Afia, you have shown great leadership in these times. You reminded us of the importance of balance—of living both in the world of technology and in the world of real, human connection.”
Afia blushed, not used to such praise from someone as esteemed as Rev. Sr. Mary Patricia. The nun’s words struck a chord deep within her. She had spent so much time defining herself by her tech skills, by her ability to navigate the digital world. But these last few days had shown her another side of life, one that was equally fulfilling.
“Perhaps,” Sr. Mary Patricia said thoughtfully, “we can use this experience to create something new. Every week, we could dedicate one day to being fully present with each other—no screens, no devices. A day where we connect with the earth, with our culture, with our neighbours. What do you think?”
The crowd erupted in agreement. A “No-Internet Day” seemed like a perfect balance. They had learned that the internet could coexist with their lives, but it didn’t need to dominate them. Afia’s smile grew as she heard the enthusiastic responses from her friends and neighbours.
The village chief, nodding in approval, raised his hand to quiet the crowd. “Rev. Sr. Mary Patricia, your wisdom is always a blessing. I think we all agree that this weekly day of reconnection will be a gift to New Legon. Let it be known that from now on, every Saturday will be ‘No-Internet Day.’”
There was a round of applause, and Afia, feeling both proud and inspired, found herself walking towards Sr. Mary Patricia.
“Thank you,” Afia said, her voice full of admiration. “Your words… they really mean a lot.”
Sr. Mary Patricia placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have much potential, Afia. Remember, technology is just a tool. But your heart, your compassion, and your leadership—those are the true gifts you bring to this village.”
Afia beamed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. From that day forward, she embraced her dual role in the village—tech expert and community leader. She would ensure that New Legon thrived in both the digital world and the real one, never letting one overshadow the other.
As the first official “No-Internet Day” approached, the village buzzed with excitement. People planned picnics, storytelling sessions, and even a soccer match in the main field. Afia, alongside Sr. Mary Patricia, helped organize events, ensuring that everyone felt included.
And so, the people of New Legon, with Afia and Rev. Sr. Mary Patricia at the helm, found a way to live in harmony with technology without letting it take over their lives. They had rediscovered the joy of human connection, the beauty of their village, and the simple pleasures that no screen could replace.
From that day forward, New Legon became a shining example of balance—of living both online and offline, with Afia and Sr. Mary Patricia guiding the way into a new future.
The End.
