Last Tuesday, the country of Ghana was shocked to learn of the passing of sitting its President, Prof. John Evans Atta Mills. The news of his death hit the airwaves shortly after his passing at the 37 Military Hospital. President Mills died at 2:15 p.m on July 24, 2012. The news of his death was not confined to the Ghanaian media alone; the tragedy was simultaneously covered by the international media as well.

Most of us, the participants of the Media in Ghana program, were hard at work at our various media organizations when the news broke. Below are our accounts, stories and impressions as Obronis in a country of mourning:

“I happened to be one of the few of our American House residents at home when the news broke. I had taken the day off of work to take care of some home affairs, and I decided to work out of the Aye Center with Elora. After a long day of commuting through East Legon, the two of us taxied home, and Elora soon left to meet her boss. Not having a moment of rest for almost four weeks now, I crawled into my top-bunk to read when I received a shocking text message from Lana: ‘The president has just died.’ Lana is in an intern at one of the most listened to radio programs in Accra, Joy FM, so I did not even think to question her announcement. I rushed outside and called to the security man, inviting him inside to watch the television to wait for a report, rounding up Jeremy and Garth on our way. So there we sat, Ghanaian and American, absorbing the astonishing news. For the rest of the night, all that I could think of was the safety of the group — my family. Each time the front door opened and shut, the weight on my heart lifted a little. Finally, every member of our family was home safe (we’re still waiting on Catherine to come home from Tamale, but she is safe), bringing with them unique and dramatic stories of Ghana’s reaction to the passing of President John Atta Mills.” — Kayla Albrecht

“I had my earbuds in, checking my Facebook like the rest of the crew before my co-worker walked over to me smiling, ‘The president just died.’ Everyone around the office seemed to be acting normal, maybe a little bit cheerier. But all of a sudden I hear, ‘Let’s cut the cake!’ You could imagine how confused I was. I asked why my co-worker was smiling, and apparently it wasn’t a huge deal that the president of Ghana just died. They explained that the president had been sick for over a year, and that it was only rumored that the president was dead. I guess they were just relieved. As for the cake—there was a birthday in the office. We sang to her, took pictures, and she cut her cake. It was chocolate. My favorite.” — Luke Hausman

“Around 4:15 p.m. yesterday we were at the departure gate of the Kumasi airport waiting to board the short flight to Accra.  Suddenly someone turned on the television loudly–to breaking news that President Atta Mills had passed away.  Everyone gasped.  Though it was common knowledge that the President was ill, his illness had been downplayed by his party, and few thought he was on the verge of death. The news definitely was a surprise and shock. Plus this is the first time in Ghana that a president has died in office. I tried to phone my Ghanaian friends in the U.S., but couldn’t get through.  Joe also attempted phone calls unsuccessfully.  Clearly the whole country was trying to phone/text, temporarily tying up all the lines.  The Vice President John Mahama was sworn in peacefully as President later in the afternoon.  I learned today (Wednesday) that Mahama is an alum of the University of Ghana School of Communication Studies.  In fact, he has been a terrific supporter of SCS and several months ago donated one of the buses that we are renting for our program.” — Leslie Steeves and Joseph Faltyn

“I heard screams, and I looked up from the computer to see my editor telling everyone to calm down. Someone slammed the desk with their hands and I turned around to see my colleague in tears. I asked her what’s wrong and she just simply says, ‘The president has died.’ Then things happened fast. Before I knew it I’m whisked into a cab with my co-worker with absolutely NO idea where we’re headed. As we set off I asked her where we’re going and she says ‘The president’s house,’ in a tone of voice that made me feel stupid for asking.

In attempts to keep this story short, I spent the next two hours getting into random cars to pass the security gates, talking to guards who politely remind us that ‘they are armed,’ and, as a last ditch effort, walking over 30 minutes around the president’s neighborhood in attempts to find his backyard. My colleague and I parted ways at 8pm in the middle of the road as we were getting into two different, random, cars. Mine was taking me to a taxi; hers was taking her to a neighbor of the president where she was hoping to see next door.

These past twenty four hours have been some of the busiest and most impactful hours I’ve spent in Ghana. I know we’ve only spent a handful of weeks here, but I sympathize with Ghanaians during this hard time. Death is never easy, especially when it is the leader of a country. I look forward to learning alongside my colleagues how the Ghanaian government will rebuild itself after this unfortunate event. I have no idea how these next few days will develop- but I do know I am lucky to be at Joy FM during this time, a radio station that prides itself on producing quality nonpartisan news.” — Lana Burge

“I found out about the President’s death from a Facebook post. Right after, I googled about the news and did not see any reliable sources. Not until 5 minutes later, news about his death flooded in my feeds. That was when I heard my boss shouting and yelling. She ran around the building like a headless chicken. Then everyone else went crazy as I heard them yelling and running. The office was a complete chaos. I saw some people sobbing on the streets on my way home. My taxi driver listened to radio about the sad news, but he seemed normal. Although the President’s death was a tragic news to Ghana, I still felt lucky that I was here at this moment. I was a part of history.” — Thao Bui

I was just sitting in the office when I misheard my coworkers talking about the president dying towards the end of the day. I thought they were saying something about the president of Pepsi calling somebody a bad word. At least I heard the president part right. Then I saw Courtney’s post on the Facebook group page about the president dying and my co-workers’ conversation started to make a more sense why they cared so much. At the time it was still a rumor that he had died, so I found a story online to confirm that it was true and showed it to my coworkers. Then I went home. — Blaine Bailey

“I first heard the news when I was walking down a dirt road behind the A&C Mall, on my way to meet my boss for a meeting. A man was frantically pacing with his cell phone and as I got closer he said something with great urgency, but I must be a bit hard of hearing because I thought he was saying, “The present is dead!” After asking him to repeat it a few more times I finally understood: the president is dead. We stood there and discussed how it would affect the upcoming elections. I continued on to my meeting. Walking back home an hour later, I could see a group of people starting to mourn the president’s death. The singing and shouting, a mix of happy and sad, followed me home.” — Elora Overbey

“I was in the newsroom editing when the news broke. I hadn’t noticed the commotion because I was proofing a story, and heated discussions seem to regularly occur in our office. But when a reporter came into the room and said the death had been confirmed, I knew it was more serious than the normal afternoon banter. President Mills was dead, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. Some were stunned, others cried, and the mood turned dark. Not knowing what I should do or say, I gathered my belongings and stepped out of the office.” — Ryan Schoeck

“News of the death of President Mills came as a sad and strange asterisk on an otherwise normal day. Tuesday afternoon, I was on the second floor of the African Regent Hotel acting as videographer/photographer for Ghana’s Musician’s Union, capturing the launch of their new website. Near the end of the conference, the otherwise jocular MC approached the stage with a final announcement. ‘I have some sad news,’ he said, “the first man of Ghana has died.” After a few silent seconds, the audience and I realized that this wasn’t just another tactless joke. Shouts of, ‘is it confirmed’ and ‘are you sure’ erupted as the MC stepped down from the podium. But despite the somewhat administrative shock of losing a sitting national leader, the Ghanian people I spoke with over the following hours and days weren’t surprised. News of the president’s poor health had spread among the people. Mills’ death was not nearly the national drama it could have been. Ghanaians were shocked, for the first 20 seconds. Then, largely, ambivalent.” — Rob Uehlin

I was at a 3-day Radio Journalist training in Tamale, which is a city in the Northern Region of Ghana, when I heard the news about President Mills. 14 journalists, my co-worker from Media Foundation for West Africa, a Media Trainer and I were all in a small conference room doing mock radio interviews when one of the journalists answered his phone. He abruptly stood up while a discussion was taking place and announced, ‘Our President is dead!’ Thinking it was part of the mock interview, a few journalists asked if he was kidding but he said it wasn’t a joke and yelled again, ‘No, Mills is dead!’ Soon after, everyone jumped on their phones and called their loved ones and friends. The Media Trainer, who is a retired broadcaster and highly educated in politics, was outraged. He stomped around the room with confusion, anger, and sadness all mixed together. People shouted across the room at one another, to themselves, and to whoever was on the phone. They shouted things like, ‘I can’t believe this! This has never happened before in all of Ghana’s history!’ Or, ‘Why didn’t he take better care of himself; he knew he was sick!’ I sat in a chair against the wall, stunned at the chaos but intrigued by the responses of each journalist. Most of the people who surrounded me were avid supporters of the President and were deeply saddened by his passing. I gave my condolences to a few journalists who had taken their phone conversations into the hallway and they thanked me for my support in this difficult time. After paying their condolences with each other and loved ones, journalists rustled up some mental strength to finish the mock interviews within the hour.” — Catherine Dacquisto