My name is Latif Iddrisu and I am a journalist with The Multimedia Group. What you would read here is my near death experience a few weeks ago. It has taken a while but I believe the time is right to share my story with you. 

I was under the weather so the doctor signed an off-duty form for me. I was recuperating at home on Thursday when my source gave me a tip about a joint police-military operation that will take place in the poverty-stricken community of Asamama.

This same source had called two weeks earlier to inform me about how illegal miners are shipping into their community where Chinese made sophisticated mining equipment are used on a river and other water bodies; a development that would completely destroy the already polluted water bodies in the area.

The initial call was for me to investigate and expose the cartel; something I was willing to do but logistics were not readily available at the time so it was put on hold.

The situation took a worrying turn so the source together with like-minded natives went all the way to meet with the Eastern Regional police commander who agreed to sanction an operation; anti-galamsey and there was a plan. That plan definitely didn't include killing the youth who have over the years engaged in the illegal act of mining for gold in the community.

It also certainly didn't include terrorising the young and the old men of the community. What was emphatic as far as the operation was concerned, was to confiscate the 'chamfine' machines and bring the miners to justice after picking them up at the many mine sites.

But from what I witnessed, for reasons best known to the men in black who were deployed, they crossed the line that was drawn by the Eastern Regional Security Council on Thursday when they shot and killed the miners.

Thursday, November 17, 2016 started as a normal day in the Eastern Regional town of Asamama in the Atiwa District of the Eastern region. 

The cosmopolitan town has recently come under siege from small scale miners who have found yet another safe haven in the community after causing near the irreparable damage to the other communities blessed with the natural resources that have arguably been a curse to the communities where nature started the valuable mineral.

Until the influx of the small scale miners, the people of Asamama, Okoro, Kyebi and were mainly into the cultivation of cocoa on a commercial scale but now they throw their hands in despair because the lands are no longer viable for even weeds to grow leisurely on.

The unfortunate phenomenon has over the years stirred huge a public outcry especially whenever a journalist goes to one of the many mining towns to interrogate and bring to the fore the grim development being supervised in the various Assemblies dotted across the ten regions of the country.

It appears government is now listening to the public outcry to clamp down on the decades-old illegality that has taken away the livelihoods of many cocoa farmers, polluted water bodies, and also defeating the mediocre steps the state has taken over the past decades to fight the worrying issue of global warming.

Fast forward to my story...I got to the Asamama township at about 11:45 a.m and as tradition demands in Ghana, my first port of call was the palace of the queen mother.

About four minutes into our conversation with her, a male adult in dirty jeans trousers over a Chelsea jersey which has seen better days rushed into the palace. The man panting heavily managed to say, "the police are here in their numbers".

At this point, the queen mother and the elders who sat in the meeting left the meeting, so I had to file out of the palace. 

To my surprise, I got out only to notice that my camera technician and the driver were nowhere to be found. I had to comb the town to find them as I believe the two had run for cover. 

After about 45 minutes searching with no success, I found the office car parked in a bush somewhere. My camera technician at the time had abandoned the front seat he always fights for, and was seeking refuge in the bush leaving the driver alone in the car. I had to add my drivers' phone to mine for backup since my camera technician has vanished with the camera, which by the way I couldn't operate into the bush.

Walking back to the mining site where the gun battle was unfolding, a divine voice, told me to remove a jacket I wore on top of my Lacoste, so I obliged. The jacket looked like a police body armor and the miners referred to me as 'Abane', used to describe the police in our local parlance.

I went combing the community to look for my camera technician for us to get to work. With benefit of hindsight, I'll say if I hadn't obliged to the divine voice to take off the jacket, I would have been lynched. After walking about a kilometer with the jacket pushed in my pant, I heard a gun exchanges which I later found out resulted in the death of a miner.

All these while I was filming the chase scene with both phones, one for videos and the other for still pictures. But I love stand ups so I decided to do one about 50 meters from where the gun battle was unfolding. How stupid I was...so I approached one of the agitated miners and begged that he becomes my camera technician for a minute since my original technician was missing in action.

Then in an angry tone this young man, who I can confidently say is about five years younger my age shouted "who are you and where are you coming from?" Before I could say, Jack, he landed the first punch and many other punches and slaps followed.

They strangled me in the process and after one of them had hit me in the thigh with a stick he was holding came the most horrifying moment of all...a scene that keeps playing in my mind even as I try to type what you are reading now.

A young man whose appearance gives him out as a problematic drug user, after a hot slap placed a machete he was holding on my head, and with fire in his eyes, he asked, "are you on our side or with the police?" You now understand why I was grateful for the divine grace which commanded me to remove the jacket I had on.

In the most humble manner as I can ever be, I responded, "Oh my brother, you know I'm with you that is why I'm here to help stop what the police is doing to you. I am always on the side of the people". 

Looking into his eyes I saw an angry man ready to slash my head into two.

There was a pause of about 10 seconds after my answer to his question and within that 10 seconds I did just one thing; I prayed to God to forgive me all my sins. I saw Malaika Maut (the angel of death) coming to take my life.

After the most difficult 10 seconds ever in my life, the young man who later granted me an interview, asked me again in Ewe, "Are you an Ewe?" and I responded in the affirmative in Ewe.

Immediately, he ordered the two who had strangled me for about five minutes to release me, subsequently dropped the machete and ordered that my phone be given back to me. 

The guy who had my phones was reluctant to hand over the phone. I dared the odds and pursued him until he reluctantly handed the phones over to me and roughed me away from the scene.

All this while the gun battle between the police and the miners was ongoing some few meters away. Despite the harrowing experience with the guys, I asked one of them to take a video of me doing the stand-up, this time around he obliged! But it wasn't long before the police moved from the jungle to bring the fight to hundreds of miners outside. We had to run for our lives because there were bullets flying all over.

The gun battle left not less than two dead at the time with many others injured. In the main town, terrified natives rushed to their rooms for safety. Market women had no option but abandoned their businesses and run for their lives.

After suffering one ordeal in the hands of the miners, one of the men in black who saw me running from the scene to look for the office car pointed his gun at me and like the miner who had the machete in my head, the police officer shouted "who the hell are you?!.

A fellow police officer whom I had introduced myself to earlier asked him to "stop! It is true he is a journalist". The officer with his gun still pointed at me the shouted, "vanish!".

I kept walking away to nowhere, watching over my shoulders even as I walked away so I don't end up with bullets in my back. I left the presence of the police as terrified as I was when the miners pounced on me with their clubs, cudgels and machetes. 

While walking away, I heard one of the officers issue a very loud order; "whoever will step out of his house shoot him". 

With that command, a curfew had taken effect in the Asamama township. I doubt the Eastern Regional security council ordered the men in black to do that. After dismantling the several roadblocks mounted by the angry youth on the roads, they left the town.

The men who were dispatched to go and maintaining law and order left those who survived in grief and terrified. 

What happens next Inspector General of the Ghana Police Service, John Kudaloh?