Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Financial Controller

There is a smutty lunatic hectoring the elbow room of the Dzorwulu Access Bank ATM. He’s a scary totem pole in the day time, still as a statue in his self-imposed straitjacket. He comes to life at night, using all the space to swing his imaginary cats. The punch buttons must be squeaky clean, for nobody ever uses them. Maybe the bank doesn’t know he stands there. Maybe they know and like it.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Cat-Kicker

Inside the wooden fencing, they’re watching a La-Liga match. Outside, where the loudspeakers bellow loud, we sit among the smoking tables, each two less than a metre apart. The varicoloured bottles remain arranged on the tables when a round of drinks is done like some mating-dance plume show. A couple huddles near the perimeter opening. He’s having a drink. She’s having a drink and eating out of a plate. Her mouth drops almost all the way to the table. I’m watching the obscene curvature of her ... backbone, when I see two cats circling the table. One can no longer wait for scraps and bravely rubs against her leg. With a shout above the music, she kicks the poor cat in an airborne arc into the crowd. Who kicks animals anywhere? And who kicks felines on a date?

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Triplets at El Wak on a Saturday Morning

On a twilight cruise for Saturday soccer at Labone. Aviation Road is already abuzz with busy-bee Accraians. The traffic lights fire red before I can cross Giffard Road into Cantonments. I don’t like stopping here: not fifty feet from where the runway-gobbling plane scythed through the swarming street.  Three sets of tiny feet identically shod in bright-red ladybug-like shoes pitter-patter across one lane. Their mother plods behind them. The first stretches out her tiny hand and wriggles the fingers at passing cars. Her two sisters repeat what she does. One, two, three, four, all cars are hypno-stopped. They sail across in a straight line in rhythmic step. Mother ‘walruses’ awkwardly behind them. Then, they are gone. Beautiful. Beguiling. 

Friday, September 21, 2012

Automatic Car Wash

I was thrilled earlier this week to see an automatic car wash open right outside my neighbourhood on Spintex Road. My hood was far from dusty, but the elements had gnawed at the tired streets. Then, some smart person chose to cover it all with pavement blocks, and then the pavement with cement dust. Now a car can only stand clean for one hour.

Today I went to the car wash. It’s owned by two Lebanese old men. They take pleasure in pressing the buttons themselves. The car is lathered and washed with electric pompoms and semi-dried with electric dryers.

A few metres further down, four Ghanaian lads wipe the cars dry. That’s the real story of this post. They are filled with so much hate. They insult their employers from the time you drive in, and theirs is the last voice you hear on the way out – insulting. They speak in Twi, of course, and try to draw me into their xenophobia. I ignore them. When I’m ready to drive off in my shiny car, one of the owners capers up to me and asks in a friendly voice, “It good?” Although it took longer than your regular one-hose car wash, I’m going back there.

It was those boys’ attitude that needed to run through the car wash, not cars.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

The Foolish Get Scammed

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?

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

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.


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!

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?)

Pupils:                        Dabi (No!!!!!!)

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
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.

Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone

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.