It’s not sinister spy stuff. One contented brain, two
eagle eyes and three grams of good grammar – the essential toolkit. The steed
of cyber fraud will canter far from your prudent purse. I mean, what self-respecting
‘British’ CENTER has a website wriggling with worms of American English?
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
This is Not Education
How does a boy end J.S.S.
Unable to spell his name?
Is he a buffoon, more or less
Or's the system to blame?
How does a girl attain Legon
And know naught from the books?
Education's a great, big con
If no one cares or looks
How do the youth land a new job
And never had a coach?
They're thrown out to the working mob
And crushed flat like a 'roach
Unable to spell his name?
Is he a buffoon, more or less
Or's the system to blame?
How does a girl attain Legon
And know naught from the books?
Education's a great, big con
If no one cares or looks
How do the youth land a new job
And never had a coach?
They're thrown out to the working mob
And crushed flat like a 'roach
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Jobs Hanging on Trees in the City of Accra
Who's jump-started the jobs-jalopy in Accra? I haven't seen it hobble past on the street below my office window. It's just the passport-hunting, jobless flock. So where's the Ghana High Commission going to conjure nine-to-fives for jobless Ghana-Brits to return to? Political possum-play.
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Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Memories of London 2012
My keepsakes from the Olympics: the thrice-striking lightning Bolt; Farah winning Mo than one gold medal; Jess the GIANT tadpole; the Baltimore Bullet killing it in the swimming pool; Golden Girl Gabby Douglas.
And then there was the bonsai Bukom boxer; went into the prize fight with only brawn; beaten into a pulp of boiled bambara beans by the lanky Nipponese 'blowman'. God, his bewildered oafish look!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Country of Necrophiliacs
This dead president's legacy may be immortal. Yet, the leftovers are a common corpse. We clownish-clash over which family has the title deeds to the esteemed cadaver and what pencil of land it will lie six feet under. Why? We are a country of necrophiliacs.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Illegal Mining Affecting Girls
Illegal mining in a needy district should blow boys' education into smithereens. But why is it dynamite for damsels too? 'Galamsey Boys' are youthful, loaded, walking neon lights. They bedazzle the girls to choose the procreative trimester over the academic one.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Education Failure. Yes Sir.
Teacher: Two plus two equals 4. Understood?
Pupils: Yes sir!
Pupils: Dabi (No!!!!!!)
Pupils: Yes sir!
Teacher: Should
I go over again?
Pupils: Yes
sir!
Teacher: But
all of you understood it?
Pupils: Yes
sir!
Teacher: Computer.
Pupils: Yes
sir!
Teacher: Skyscraper.
Pupils: Yes
sir!
Teacher: Pathetic.
Pupils: Yes
sir!
Teacher: Mo
te m'asee? (Do you understand me?)
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Street Animal
Self-reproach is when you catch your thoughts
not sparing a moment for the people who work in the streets. But how do you
feel touched for the construction worker who’s savagely shovelling rocks and
scoring hits on passing cars.
He looks up surprised at each cling and clang. The scowl on his ferret-face says how dare we steer our cars
to hit his precious projectiles! How I wish a raptor or ‘saurus would drag him
back into the cave he crawled out of this morning!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Bootlick Airlines
Cowering on a thirty-minute flight, meditating
on how long it took for a light plane to bite the dust (in these days of
mishap), I was squirming – and not just me – at the slimy gallons of apocryphal
adulation the cabin crew poured all over a minister of State in the faux-glorified
business class separated by a flimsy blue curtain. “Welcome, Honourable
Minister, ladies and gentlemen.” “Have a pleasant flight, Honourable
Minister...” “Goodbye, Honourable Minister...”
Monday, June 25, 2012
Flimsy Banku Buffets
Perched at the buffet saloon of a shiny hotel on a soggy
Kumasi night, sampling senseless delights and wondering woolly whys the local chophouses
don’t offer as-much-as-you-like banquets to he-who-goes-there.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Mental Fence
When I was in primary school
And being smart was still cool
They'd group clever kids in one class
And stragglers in the quicksand mass
The best they'd call Class Yellow or A
The worst class, D or Grey
The worst class, D or Grey
They ran two tracks of intelligence
Separated by a mental fence
Class A reached the good high schools
To the rest, they gave hand tools
Nobody got a second chance
To outgrow the Childhood Trance
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Wobbly Foundation of the House at Ridge
(Picture borrowed from graphic.com.gh) |
Don Quixote’s Battle
There is a contemporary
affair raging on in Ghanaian politics which is quite quixotic to my mind. It is
about the sale of real estate by the Lands Commission (of the Government of
Ghana) to a former Minister of State. The property is located at Ridge – a gentrified
neighbourhood.
The issue has
taken on the badge of a battle between the ruling NDC and the main opposition
NPP. Another measure is the seeming unremitting disfavour of some self-said devotees
of the ruling NDC (and by weak extension the executive) for the judiciary. A
third scope of the scrimmage is the insistence by some NPP adherents on an
amoral application of the ‘law’ to give back Jake (the aggrieved Minister) the
house which the government is loath to do.
This article is a
deviation from my normal fare, and an attempt to appeal to Ghanaians to keep
their eyes on the real issue and to resist the NDC-NPP cacophony that is
clouding the perfidious asset-stripping that is bedevilling our country.
The Political Class
Every fourth year, since 1992, we have held elections. Three times have we changed presidents. At least five times, we have substituted many members of government. Two parties have shown realistic chances of winning, and have won at least twice. This year, NDC or NPP will win again. PPP has shown signs of making a first bleep on the radar for a third force. Whoever wins, it is the same ‘TV’d’ faces that will form the next government. It is this colossal, cross-party cabal of influential people which decides which scandals will cloud the civic conversation at any time. Let us call it the ‘Political Class’.
Dangerous Departure
The current rumpus exposes a dangerous departure from convention – dangerous to the Political Class, salubrious for the people. It emerged in the public domain, no doubt, from a personal score to settle. For as long as only God knows, there has been a scheme urban redevelopment, and it involves ‘redistributing’ antiquated State property to the Political Class and the para-Political Class. The prices are sometimes ridiculously low, but that is a separate conversation.
The principle has
been tacitly established: on a regular basis, official residents of State
houses can acquire those houses. So can others with the right information or
connections. Some members of both the NPP and the NDC have benefitted from this
principle.
So, this
not-so-public ‘dibi na me’ndibi’ has now become the news because somebody went
‘personal’ against Jake, who was only following an established policy.
Side Attraction
Distraction
There have been
(perhaps deliberate) distractions from the main issue. Again, the main issue is
asset-stripping by the Political Class. There have been media wars, court
contests and cabinet repudiations. In my opinion, the racket about these events
misses the main issue.
Many have been
‘red-herringed’ off the real scent. If every other Minister since independence
had acquired their official residence, would the State have any more to house
officials?
The main business of
the State does not include construction of accommodation (though it might
include facilitating same). Do Ghanaians want to see their taxes used to house
the president and his men in hotels when State-owned houses run out?
Pots & Kettles, Law & Morality and Democracy
The pot-and-kettle
arguments about morality and legality do not impress me. The Supreme Court has
given its decision on the lawful observance of procedure in the acquisition (but
not on its morality). The government wishes to look beyond the legal into the
moral – the old law-and-morality argument. That is fine too.
The courts do not
lay down administrative procedure for the Executive. They only look (by
judicial review) to make sure the exercise of administrative power and
discretion is fair and lawful. Therefore, if there is an established underlying
principle (no matter how morally flawed) the curative duty is somebody else’s,
not the court’s.
The morality
argument impresses me. I just wish it could be pursued without adding this to
the list of matters in which the government takes a posture of jousting with
the judges.
If the house at
Ridge was not unlawfully acquired, the cabinet has made a decision not to sell.
I have tried to wrap my mind around the repercussions. In the main, I do not
see a flagrant violation of the authority of the Supreme Court (although there
may be disrespect). Instead, I see a government making a stand on high moral
ground and risking a private lawsuit for breach of contract or specific
performance (an order to perform the terms of the contract to sell the house).
Most importantly,
I see a bleeding democracy. We should not accept the immorality that is
asset-stripping. We should not accept the executive finding ‘convenient’ means
around the Judiciary (or worse affiliates of the party in power threatening the
judiciary as has happened in the not-too-far-off past). We should not praise
the NDC’s position, if it is merely to score political points. We should exalt
the NDC’s position if they are saying “We have been tacitly complicit in this.
Now, we realise that it is wrong and must not continue it”. That is a position
I could stand in the sun for five hours in December to defend with my thumb.
New Political Principles
Shall we then make
a new compact between Ghanaians and the Political Class? Shall it be a
continuing document we can all add to and subtract from?
The first
principle could be “Let there be no more asset-stripping”. The second might be
“Political appointees cannot acquire any assets they controlled or were
associated with on the job”. The third principle may be “Let there not just be
the actual absence of conflict of interest or minimisation of corruption. Let it
be seen that there is none”.
Let all the acts
of the Political Class be characterised by fellow feeling and respect for the
people. They will not sit down until all the assets are stripped. We should
pray that they react by speaking the same words the spokespersons of the Political
Class obfuscate the issues in the media every day. But, if the masses do not
have words (by reason of unfortunately low – or no – education), they do have
hands: connect the dots for yourself.
The house at Ridge
is our democracy. Let us be reminded of the wobbly foundations it yet stands
on. Let us be reminded of the work and recommitment we need to put into it.
What principles would you like to hold the Political Class to?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Non-Street Beggars in the City of Accra
Look, foreign governments don’t post a Santa-for-all-seasons
at JFK or Heathrow or Schiphol or Frankfurt to shower sweet toys and treasure on
travellers. It’s the same camera, watch, phone, shoes, or frippery they ‘rock’
back at home. So all those people in Ghana always cadging visitors for gifts,
PLEASE STOP IT!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Praise & Worship...& Contagion
Quick start. Music soaring. Voices swelling. Atmosphere psychedelic. Quick draw. Handkerchiefs swaying. Microbes sailing. Nostrils inhaling. I'd rather stay in bed.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
BlogCamp 2012 - Ghana Rising
Online porn is the quarry of the bird-dog youth of today! Clueless carol of some society speakers. Not true! Imagine my sweet surprise on seeing so many still-growing minds with yards of yen for social medial relevance at BlogCamp 2012; relevance as content creators and catchers too. Ghana's rising the right way - led by the youth. Well done to the organisers.
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Saturday, April 14, 2012
Too Old to Hold an OD
I was trading bagatelles with a concupiscent
confidante about being middle-aged and unmarried when she got a phone call. Earlier
that day, a bank she works at had refused a man an overdraft.
What was the reason? He was over seventy! They
would not say this, but they fear he could drop off at anytime, clearly. It matters little his clean credit history or bold bank balance.
So, while we were trifle-flirting-fretting
over being nearly too old to be unmarried, a prosperous senior citizen was too
old to snag an OD.
Friday, March 30, 2012
It’s Not Too Much Talking; It’s Too Little Voting
Some people say there is too much talk in
Ghana. They reckon more action and less talk is the economic elixir we require.
I agree that too many people pretend to be political, economic and social
experts in the media (including online social media). I disagree, however, that
Ghanaians talk too much. The basic meaning of democracy – as I understand it –
is the sounding of all views before choosing the most popular.
If TV, radio, print and online media are
filled with the ‘voice of the people’, there is a good chance that decisions
would be the choice of the people, and failure would be viewed philosophically
and not vi et armis. I shift my
position a little. The inexpert experts should hush and let the vox populi be
broadcast.
Having said that talk is good, talk is not
enough. It would be a catastrophe if we did not talk at all. It would be a
shame if we talked and talked and nothing happened. A child in primary school,
I read a story of a world of creatures resident in a ball of animal fur or
something like that. This world was unseen to the ‘normal’ world and condemned
to be destroyed. A campaign team was sent around this tiny world to urge the creatures
to make an almighty racket. Maybe it could be saved if they could prove that
life existed in the ball of fur. Voice and cymbal, drum and hands – they made
the din with anything they found. But the animals were not convinced that life
resided in the ball of fur. Things got critical. Then the creatures saw the tiniest
of their kind. It was hiding behind a flake of dandruff. It would not join in
the noise. It did not believe it could make a difference. At the end, it was
convinced to shout at the top of its voice, and the animals heard the din. Their
world was saved.
It would be a senseless shame if we all
spoke up but failed to do the one most important policy-affecting act. VOTE! And
it would be sadder still if one could not vote because they did not register. We
all know the shortfall of votes that took Ghana to a second round in the 2008
elections, and the number that made the difference finally. How many did not
register? How many did not vote? Could they have made a difference for one
party or another? Imagine the cost to you (as a taxpayer) that we had two (some
say three) elections, instead of one, to choose a leader!
I will not say that the abstaining wise
deserve the rule of the foolish but civic. But what a bummer it would be if two
abstainers out of every ten could sway the elections by doing nothing beyond
the civic right to speak. Many do not feel too patriotic, and I understand their
reasons. But when you vote, you vote, first, for yourself; not for Ghana.
The voters registration is on. It is only
of secondary importance that the process is biometric rather than something
else. Be responsible for your future (and maybe Ghana’s). If I have convinced
you – if I needed to – please go out and register. If I failed, then we will
fail.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Five Favourite Forget-Me-Nots
Grandfather's Old Law Book
The ancient, no, Jurassic, Jurisprudence
book that belonged to my grandfather. He’d wanted to a lawyer. He abandoned
school with eyesight problems and a thirst to enter politics against an
evolving dictator at the time. He became a magistrate, but never a lawyer. When
I pick that book, he speaks to me. He starts, “Panyin Senior Brother.” That’s
what he called me. He's smiling down at me right now.
Varicoloured, Old Bed Sheet
The many-motif strip of cloth my mother
gave to me in ’98, when I was going to the university. It saw tears and wet dreams
for coquettish college girls and served me well in my law-limited sleep. I keep
it as a cover cloth now, and it will never retire from my bed.
Bold, Blue Bath Bucket
Ten-litre pail with a lovely black handle. Faithful
companion when the showers turned traitor. Now benched as a laundry boy, it’s
still not too little to give me a quick body dousing.
Blue, Plastic-Strap Swatch from Primary School
My first Swatch, and mother of many more. I
can’t say it rendered me precise, but it was a long-lasting friendship.
Black, Sleek, Scientific Calculator
Daddy bought this gizmo months after we “broke
the neck of this Apartheid” in South Africa. He bought it in Johannesburg. It was
seventy-something Rands. A long-distance cousin I only saw once visited for three
hours. He must have arrived back in Koforidua with a new toy.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Cast-Away Hat in the City of Accra
A well-worn, brown hat perched on the bald cusp of the Spintex Road. I saw it just before a trotro cut in, in a half-whisker before me, and bow-legged the hat. I wondered if it sailed off its owner's suddenly-naked head or if, in typical thug-driving, a trotro whisked him from under the suddenly-perchless hat. It looked so lonely among the people and cars.
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Sunday, March 18, 2012
Happy 90th Greeting Cards
It simply had to say 'Get well soon'. Not one did. Upside-down, back-to-front, hand-soiled, crumpled cards, the stupid shop didn't have any get-well-soons. It made the pain worse that there was a card for a 90th birthday. Are there more nonagenarians than invalids in the city of Accra?
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