LOST is an original Lapatutu fiction following Henry’s life journey. All characters, locations, and events in this work are fictional; any resemblance to real entities is entirely coincidental.
The plan was perfectly set up in his mind. Every single day as he returned home from school, he kept replaying it, over and over again. It was a good plan. No, to him, it was a great plan.
The plan? Becoming the Governor of Miraje County.
Ever since he was nine years old, he had been replaying this exact vision in his head, and nothing had changed. He was now 21. For over a decade, his sole ambition and drive had been just that.
Henry’s upbringing was the perfect definition of the lower middle class. They were able to have three meals a day, yet chicken and beef were a rare luxury, appearing on their table only three times a year. Despite this, his father was deeply committed to his children’s education, ensuring Henry and his siblings had the opportunity to study all the way to the university. It was that kind of life—not truly struggling, but never comfortably thriving either.
For his primary education, Henry attended Kupanda Primary School, a government-aided school that had, over the years, established itself as the beacon of academic excellence in Miraje County. Its reputation attracted the brightest young minds alongside the children of the county’s elite in the area.
At the heart of the school stood the main hall. Built in the 1920s by Catholic missionaries, it was the most outstanding building at Kupanda. The hall exuded a timeless architectural elegance; its high ceiling with exposed wooden trusses gave a sense of elevated importance to every school gathering. This was a place where generations of students had sat, dreaming of their futures.
Beyond its impressive architecture, the school grounds spoke of an order and care that set Kupanda apart. The well-maintained green lawns were areas of pristine beauty, jealously guarded by strict regulations. There was one unspoken rule above all: students were strictly FORBIDDEN to walk on the grass.
It was within this environment of visible prosperity, historical significance, and high expectations that Henry, a brilliant student, started to taste the stark reality of his economic situation. Surrounded by peers from extremely well-to-do families with their fancier pens, shoes, and clothes, Henry felt the contrast acutely for the first time while here.
The reality hit particularly hard in Primary Five.
During a school assembly, the Head Teacher announced a school trip to the Wildlife Center in the capital city, costing 1,000 Shanga (approx. $50 USD). The Center was a point of pride across the country, having just undergone a major renovation to add state-of-the-art facilities and expanded animal exhibits. But what truly captivated everyone was the recent addition of a white tiger, a creature of almost mythical beauty that had instantly become the park’s star attraction.
Henry had never left Miraje County in his entire life, and the mere thought of visiting the Wildlife Center thrilled him to his core. He gently asked his father for the money, but he didn’t have it.
“I am sorry, my son,” his father said softly. “Right now, all the money is going toward your essential school fees and those of your siblings.”
While his classmates eagerly discussed who would bring the best camera to capture photos of the tiger, Henry sat back in silent admiration. It was moments like these that ignited the fire in him to become Governor. To become someone important. To make a name for himself. To have enough money. No, more than enough money.
The Governor drove a deep metallic black Mercedes-Benz ML—a rare sight in Miraje County and the ultimate display of power. The car gleamed under the sun, reflecting the prestige of its occupant as it navigated the dusty Miraje roads. Young Henry quickly noticed the powerful aura surrounding the man.
Though the Governor visited the county only twice a year—well below his expected presence—throngs of people always trailed him whenever he arrived, clamouring for a greeting. When he spoke, their faces glowed with undivided admiration.
To young Henry, the Governor was the embodiment of everything he yearned for: unquestionable respect and wealth. It was during one of these mesmerizing visits that nine-year-old Henry made a silent vow: he would grow up to become the Governor of Miraje County.
For secondary school, Henry earned admission to Adinkra College, a prestigious boarding school located further away from home on the Adinkra Hill. News of his government-sponsored admission elated the entire family. Henry was over the moon—it felt like a dream come true. When his father delivered the news, Henry jumped around the house, and with the excitement still buzzing in his veins, ran outside for nearly a full kilometer.
Adinkra College was renowned for its exceptionally strong debate program, having won numerous national and international tournaments and produced some of the country’s most eloquent leaders. Many leaders therefore did everything they could to send their children here for this very purpose.
The school’s prestige also lay in its distinguished alumni network. Many of the country’s most prominent leaders had walked its hallowed halls. This illustrious list included none other than the Miraje County Governor, the Honorable Kennedy Ali himself—a fact that made Henry feel one step closer to his ultimate goal. The very air at Adinkra carried the promise of future greatness.
Yet, despite these inspiring surroundings, the familiar weight of economic disparity resurfaced, chipping away at Henry’s confidence.
It was most visible on Visitation Sundays.
While students from affluent families watched their parents arrive in large, expensive cars, setting up elaborate picnics with cherished homemade food to spend hours eating and laughing together, Henry’s experience was vastly different.
His parents would arrive together on a shared boda boda, but their visits were brief. To save money, they had bargained with the rider for a strict 40-minute waiting limit before he took them back.
Henry was deeply grateful they made the effort to come, yet the sharp awareness of how much better things could be haunted him bitterly.
These moments cemented a harsh conviction in Henry’s mind: the only way to be happy in life was to have money and power. They were the keys to earning genuine respect—and the clearest path to achieving both was becoming the Governor of Miraje County. You could not convince him otherwise.
His strategy led him to the Debate Program.
Mind you, this was one of the most sought-after programs in the school. While the wealthy kids got in through parental influence, everyone else had to pass an extremely rigorous pre-entry process. Henry held a distinct advantage: his years-long obsession with the county Governor had seen him spend hours on end listening to the Governor’s radio debates, meticulously learning the art of persuasive argument. Owing to this rigorous self-training, Henry was exceptionally knowledgeable on current events, giving him the much-needed edge to earn his spot.
As his debating skills grew, Henry slowly began to gain recognition. Impressed by his talent, the debate patron placed Henry in charge of the Friday evening debates. This new role meant he was responsible for selecting debate topics after carefully reviewing the week’s events. As a result, his name was soon known by everyone in the program, something he had never experienced before.
This little dose of attention was a significant boost for Henry, a validation he so badly craved.
And it was only the beginning.
The next hurdle is to make the Adinkra Debate Team. Henry seems to have found his path, but will he overcome this obstacle and make history? Find in Part 2!
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