Rejoinder: Why Sweat Elsewhere? – by Kobby Parker

My friend Kobby Parker shares his thoughts in response to my earlier article. Kobby is a banker and a writer.

 

Ghana Today
Recently, I was on a flight from Takoradi toAccra. The plane was full. I was the only chocolate-coloured man (I am not black) on the plane. The plane was full with cream-coloured (they are not white) people.
As the plane taxied and took off, I asked myself: What are they doing here? What do they want here? What have they seen that I haven’t seen?

 

I reasoned further: They are not here to work in factories. There is risk of malaria and robbery. They are safer in their country and yet they come in droves. In my own country, my own people cannot afford to use planes that fly within the country.
From the America’s, Europe and Asia they have come to harvest what God gave us and we only watch and wonder whilst they plunder.
Today, it is estimated by the Ghana Immigration Service and other government agencies that there are more than 300,000 Chinese inGhana. They have gone to the bushes in the hinterlands. They are digging out sacred rivers and forests, in search of gold. Three Chinese men I know make an average of $1million in gold sales DAILY! They attack local villagers for coming close to their illegal mining sites and the police do nothing.
The politician and the police do not blink. What can an individual do then?

Deut 28:33 – A nation whom you have not known shall eat the fruit of your land and the produce of your labour and you shall be only oppressed continually.

Ghana Today
I have taken note of a curious development in Ghanaian banking circles. A Ghanaian businessman cannot obtain financing from banks inGhana without collateral. If you want a loan for a factory, the bank would ask you to deposit the requested amount in cash as collateral or submit your house documents. If your house is not worth the amount you have requested, forget it. It then amazes me why Ghanaians are surprised there aren’t enough factories inGhana to employ our able bodied youth. But the story gets interesting.

Most foreigners doing business inGhanado not need collateral to obtain bank loans. Most banks, be they Ghanaian or foreign-owned, are more likely to avail a loan to a foreigner than a local.
Recently, a foreign-owned company has commissioned a $51 million flour processing factory inGhana. Many banks were over themselves to have a piece of the ‘financing pie’. only three banks won the race to give the company money – $17 million each. The only collateral is the factory itself and a piece of paper from the company’s head office inSingapore that is called a corporate guarantee.
If this is a workable model, then why don’t Banks inGhana finance factories to be owned by Ghanaians? Won’t those factories create more jobs for unemployed youth? And won’t the profit earned stay in the country to develop other sectors of the economy?

Deut. 28:43 – The alien who is among you shall rise higher and higher above you, and you shall come down lower and lower. He shall lend to you, but you shall not lend to him; he shall be the head, and you shall be the tail.
Ghana Today
Accra used to be safe, but not that safe anymore. Maybe it’s still relatively safer than elsewhere. But I would drive the shortest distance than walk and I would never carry anything resembling a laptop bag whilst walking. Lest I be struck with sudden fear. In spite of my fear of sudden fear, I have been mugged twice by my own country people at knife point. Twice!

Deut 28:66 – Your life shall hang in doubt before you; you shall fear day and night, and have no assurance of life.

Ghana Tomorrow
There is hope for the future says the Lord.
Is there anything more comforting than hope?

 

Eko Encounters: Why Sweat Elsewhere?

27 June 2012

Pro Patria!

As I made my way to work this morning, my thoughts turned, as usual for this week in particular, to Africa. I have been musing this week about Ghana and today I added the country I consider my second home –Nigeria.

I have been working here in Eko permanently for almost three months now. I am not new to Amalaman. Since I started working with Unilever after school in 2000, I have been visiting here for about fourteen times before moving here permanently. My first visit to Amalaman was in January 2001, and it was for a conference in Ogere. Interestingly, my first trip out of Lagos in April this year was to Ibadan and we went by Ogere and right by the conference centre – nostalgic. In 2009, I stayed here for a full month.

I have been telling my colleagues at work, Mr O and Mrs B especially that when I read the papers, especially The Punch which is what I subscribe to at work, I find too many negative words being used, to much pessimism.

Just as an example, I have now picked, randomly, the Thursday June 14 2012 edition of The Punch. The words and phrases that jump at me: scandals, bribe, suspicion, rot, stinks, emergency, warns, recession. This is just the front page, I have not opened it yet. There is, however, one positive story – Man, 80, bags B.Sc in Sociology (that was so inspiring).

I ask my colleagues why.

When I come to work during the week and also move about during the weekend, I never regret being in Nigeria or working here. I love it. Challenges nevertheless.

Another argument I always have with my Nigerian friends – I tell them they have a romantic view of Ghana. Usually when I hear such statements as ‘Oh, it is not like this or that in Ghana’, I challenge the speaker and ask ‘Have you ever been to Ghana?’ Three times out of four, the person hasn’t been. It is not all that rosy in my homeland, we are all on this road to development, and have our challenges.

After my first degree and my statutory (second) National Service, I worked for five years in Ghana before going to the UK for a year’s masters program. This was between September 2005 and September 2006. I submitted my dissertation on the 15 September, stayed for two weeks to help with the Welcome program for International Students and to tidy up a few issues and I was back in Ghana on the 2^nd October 2006. I had resigned from Unilever before going for my studies and as at the time I returned, there was no firm offer from Unilever to take me back. A Ghanaian friend based in the UK asked me why I was returning to Ghana, and why I didn’t like it in theUK. As a typical Ghanaian, I answered him with a question, querying him in return why he was in the UK and why he didn’t like it in Ghana. I will state my reasons for returning home so soon, later in this piece but before that, allow me to share a statement a senior colleague made to me.

I had got a Chevening scholarship to study at Nottingham University. As I considered my options, I went to consult with Adlai Opoku-Boamah, a senior manager at Unilever who had just recently returned from the UK on a similar scholarship. His advice was simple: “Nana, if you want to be a big man, come back home.”

I saw the development in the UK, I have seen the development in South Africa and since returning from my studies, I have been to other countries where the level of advancement is far above what transpires in Ghana and other African countries. I saw how hard people, including many Africans, are working in the UK to make that country prosper and become what it is. And I asked myself, Why sweat somewhere else?

Why sweat my youthful years away building someone’s village and not mine? Why put my shoulders to a wheel that turns another economy whilst the one that has my umbilical cord tied to it travels south? And in returning to Ghana, I was returning to Africa, to the continent that needs the resources to grow.

We berate the whites for slavery and argue that the slave trade took away all our energetic and productive young men and women. Are we not practising a voluntary trade today?

One of the issues that tickle in the wrong places is when my brothers and sisters living abroad visit home for a week and lament about everything and see nothing worthwhile to commend. Who should stay behind and build?

I was in school with a number of Nigerians, who stayed back. Try telling them to come back home to help, and it will be like selling amala to a Chinese man. How else can Nigeria grow if all the top brains are going out for studies and not returning? How can Africa improve if we don’t want to stay, sweat and swim against the tide of under-development and turn our economies around?

Who is to give the hope back? Who is to change the language we use? Who is to enervate us, inspire us, bring us the va-va-voom? It will not be the politicians, I can guarantee you. It will be us, the ordinary citizens.

Why sweat elsewhere when I can sweat on the continent, and stay in a better Ghana, a better Nigeria, a better Africa?

Why sweat elsewhere?

Eko Encounters: A Tale of One Wrong Turn

16 May 2012

I got my official car a couple of weeks ago but only started using it yesterday 15 May. The reason was simple. And no, it is not because I can’t drive or I prefer okada. I had promised myself that there was no way I was going to drive inLagos. Not for all the amala and ewedu soup inIbadan.

Eish, the trotro drivers we curse inAccra, who think they are the terrorists onAccraroads will wet their pants here on Eko roads. The driving is not bumper to bumper; it is side door to side door. Who asks about following distance here? A friend told me that in Eko, whoever gets to a point first has right of way! Don’t bring your rule book here saying that the person in the inside of a roundabout has right of way. What way? I feel that passengers in adjacent cars could even reach out and shake hands in traffic! They drive that close. My colleague Mr T told me that if you are in traffic and you want to change lanes, the worst way to do it is to indicate with your trafficators. That is the sure way to get the car behind you to honk incessantly and fill the space on your right or left. And when the car behind you wants to get in front, he sort of pushes you out of your position literally from behind, instead of driving to your right or left first and getting ahead of you. Eko driving, na wao!

So I was waiting to get a driver. The transport office facilitated it. He came around on Monday 14 May and we agreed terms. Nasiru started working for me on 15 May and our first day was spent driving to Ikorodu for a meeting. We returned to the head office at Ilupeju in the afternoon. My usual closing time is around 6.30pm, but can sometimes stay beyond 7pm. On Nasiru’s first day at work, I decided to ease him into the job and ramp up eventually. As he lived at Ikorodu and wasn’t too familiar with my area, I wanted him to close early so he finds his way home whilst it was still not dark.

He drove well on his first day. He was cautiously confident behind the wheel, and didn’t indulge in any expression of road rage. The previous week, the pool driver taking me home engaged in a Tom and Jerry race and naming calling, and, yes, insults with a damfo driver. I had to reprimand him, explaining that his conduct showed disrespect to his passenger and to the company, whose logo he had embossed on the breast pocket of his shirt. Nasiru was markedly different. More like a gentleAccratrotro driver.

Today, Nasiru reported around 6am, we ate breakfast and by 7am as usual, we were on our way. The journey to the office usually took 25 minutes max.

Even though I had been driven on this route since 2 April, I hadn’t particularly studied all the turns. However, on Nasiru’s first day, as we set off, when I asked him whether he knew how to get us to Ilupeju, he replied in the negative. Eish!

‘Well, let’s go. We will see how we do it together.’

I respected the power of the brain, in storing information, even unconsciously. I was able to direct him to the office.

So on the second day, I didn’t pay attention, assuming that he would remember the route from the previous day. I spent the time reading. Just after 7.15 am, Nasiru said ‘Oga, I missed the turn.’

We had failed to spot the right turn we should have made at Oworonshoki to get onto the 3rd mainland bridge. Measuring about 11.8 km, built by the firm Julius Berger and commissioned in 1990 by Ibrahim Babandiga (on his birthday), the Third Mainland Bridge is the longest of three bridges connecting Lagos Island to the mainland, the other two being the Eko and Carter bridges. It is the longest bridge inAfrica. The bridge starts from Oworonshoki which is linked to the Apapa-Oshodi express way and Lagos-Ibadan express way, and ends at the Adeniji Adele Interchange onLagosIsland. There is also a link midway through the bridge that leads to theHerbert Macaulay Way, Yaba.

I told him not to worry and to find a way to turn around. On our way back to join the mainland bridge, Nasiru stopped by the highway and looked in the inside mirror.

‘What is the matter?’ I asked him.

‘Oga, I missed the turn to join again.’

It was about 7.45 am, and we were again at Oworonshoki.

‘What do you want to do?’ I asked, in slight alarm, as I sensed what he wanted to do. Nasiru wanted to reverse.

To reverse?! He nodded yes. No way!

I have seen a couple of people do that on the motorway betweenAccraand Tema and thought they were mad. I wasn’t about to classify myself in the same category, and definitely not going to do such an unsafe act. I am sure it would be against the law too, for sure.

Again, I told him not to worry. ‘When you miss a turn once and you rectify your mistake, you won’t repeat it,’ I encouraged it. ‘It is better to arrive alive and late than early but in heaven,’ I added. Or hell, I should have added, depending on your reservation.

We took a drive through a route unknown to me, and made a turn at a point where there was a traffic warden allowing U-turns besides a No-U turn signage. I trusted that, as happens inGhana, the traffic wardens could override the traffic lights, but well, I wasn’t complaining.

We made it to the Oworonshoki turn at 7.58 am.

One wrong turn had led to another and we had spent about forty minutes finding our way back to our starting point. That is the sense of wahala in navigating through the labyrinth of Eko roads. My boss told me one of the reasons why a driver was advisable is that I would be frustrated with the routes to use, especially if there was hold up, defined by my humble self as gargantuan traffic, and there is the need to explore alternative paths.

I am always impressed with the road network in Eko. The plethora of flyovers that link with each other like taalia on my favorite waakye. And I am amused then when I think of the euphoria and political counterclaims and ramble rousing that greeted the commissioning of the N1 highway in Accra. Only one more to add up to Tetteh Quarshie and the smaller Ako Adjei (here I smile when I recall that Sheiks I C Quaye was rumored to have said that Ako Adjei was named after the interchange!), Tema/Ashaiman, and Nima/Kanda interchanges. Our leaders should do more! Roundabouts are so 19^th century now. We need interchanges and flyovers at the Tema motorway roundabout, for instance. That is long overdue. Our cousins in Eko and beyond certainly beat us in this regard. And, oh ok, in this,Nairobi lags behind paa.

We eventually got to work at 8.08am. An hour after setting off for my 20 minute drive to work.

Empower Series 64: Holding on a Bit Longer

I was travelling to Cote d’Ivoire on Emirates on a Sunday and the stated time for check in was 9am – 11am for a 1:55pm flight. I usually want to check in early to avoid long queues and also to relax. I planned to leave the house at 9am, but eventually left around 9:15am, as I was waiting for a friend to deliver something to me before my trip. By 10am, we were at the airport, and I asked my wife to stay in the car for a short, with our boys, for me to ascertain whether the check-in counter was open. I had not printed my e-ticket, so wanted to find out if they would check accept the reference code.  Check-in hadn’t commenced.

 

We decided to drive to the Accra Mall, to print at the Busy Internet centre at the Mall. The attendant on duty indicated that they wouldn’t start till after 12noon. “Can you please just do me a favour and print something from my email? I am travelling and need my ticket,” I pleaded. He told us he couldn’t even log into the system till after 12. Time was about 10:20 am. Upon enquiry, we were told that the Busy Internet centre in Nkrumah Circle was open; they started working from 6am, the attendant told us. We drove through 37 (none of the Internet Cafes were open this early on Sunday) and to the Busy Internet centre at Circle. Things went on smoothly and I got the e-ticket printed. We drove back to the Kotoka International Airport, and I said good bye to Vivian and the boys. I got to the departure lounge and quickly got my luggage checked by the Customs.

 

I looked for the Emirates counter, and couldn’t find it. The information on the screen stated the departure time for the flight, without indicating the check –in counter number. I was getting worried as it was after 11am now, the time stated on the ticket for checking-in was over. I saw a guy enquiring from one of the airport officials and drew closer.

 

“Emirates will start checking in from 12 noon,” he said.

 

I stood in the open space by my luggage, not knowing where the check-in would take place. Soon it was 11:45am and my feet were hurting. Some people who were standing by me decided to go sit down, on one extreme end of the departure lounge. I figured that if check-in would start anytime, the time I had stood there would be best appreciated if I held on a bit longer. I was proven right, as a few minutes after 12 noon, the Emirates staff started setting up the counter; I was second in the queue to check in.

 

Rev Richard Kwarteng Siaw of International Charismatic Church once told us that he would never give up on his faith as a Christian. His reason? The path he had covered was longer than the path ahead of him; he said he had fasted too much, prayed too much, contended with too many demons, suffered too much, to let all that investment go waste.

 

I took my Christian faith more seriously around 1989, when I was in Form three in Ghana National College. I became active in the Scripture Union then. Before then, we used the Scripture Union as an avenue to escape the eyes of the seniors. It was tough being an SU member; apart from being held to the highest standards of behaviour by both your tutors and colleague students, sometimes you  have to bear the brunt of jokes from your mates who thought you were colo (old fashioned) and not enjoying the highlife that youth deserved. A few laughed at you to your face. Similar experiences were encountered among friends at home.

 

Fast-track many years and I started finding that many of these friends who used to ridicule us have come to the saving grace of Christ, and some have become pastors. Then came Facebook, and connections with old friends, some I hadn’t met or interacted with in close to 20 years, were possible. Then the pleasant surprises started: status updates about Christ, Christianity, holy living. A lot of those who used to tease us about our faith in secondary school had now come to a saving knowledge of Christ. The question I put to myself was: what if I had listened to them and lost my faith, only to find out later in life that what they push me to reject has become their treasure? It is akin to a girl rejecting the proposal of a young man on the advice of her friend only to discover that that same ‘best friend’ of hers has married the rejected proposer! Don’t laugh: it has happened many times.

 

In my first book, Excursions in My Mind, I wrote about getting an email from an old friend from Ghana National, many years after school, asking me about how to grow up in his Christian faith, as he had decided to take God seriously. The question I asked myself then was: “What if I had given up?”

 

Sometimes, as I found out in my airport check-in experience, it takes just a bit more of holding on, to read our vision, to get to our promised land. The race is not for the swift, but victory belongs to the person who keeps on in the race. My friend Sandy Nartey puts it this way: “The race is not for the swift, but you must be in the race.”

 

Christ’s second coming is now closer than it was yesterday. The distance to your dream is closer than it was before your last step forward. If you would just hold on, and keep going…remember, even the ant reaches its destination, as long as it keeps moving.

 

Action Exercise

 

As we move into the new year (2012), is there a dream you had for 2011 that has not materialised? Don’t give up on it. Are you struggling with your faith and about to call it quits? Remember the journey so far – will you give it all up? The prize could be just within reach. Remain in the race, and plod on.

 

Qoutes

 

Let me tell you the secret that has led me to my goal. My strength lies solely in my tenacity.

Louis Pasteur

 

 If you are going through hell, keep going.

Winston Churchill

 

Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go.

William Feather

 

Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.

Dale Carnegie

 

Never give up on what you really want to do. The person with big dreams is more powerful than one with all the facts.

Anonymous

 

When the world says, ‘Give up,’ Hope whispers, ‘Try it one more time.’

Anonymous

 

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.

Ambrose Redmoon

 

A ship in port is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.

Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper

 

When there is no wind … ROW!

Latin Proverb

 

Fall down seven times, get up eight.

Japanese Proverb

 

Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

 

Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.

Dale Carnegie

 

Never Give Up! Never, never, never, never give up. Never!

Winston Churchill

 

 

My 2011 Awards

(with inputs from Nana Kweku Ankobiah, Dela Kobla Nyamuame, Winfred Edem Ofori, Yvonne Amenuvor, Sunday Aderemi, Genevieve Parker, Kwame Akpesey, Stephen D Yankey, Kwabena Agyapong Asare, Nana Kweku Ankobiah, Francis Kennedy Ocloo, Dela Kobla Nyamuame, Richard Billy Hanyabui, Jacob Nana Dapaah)

This is very eclectic. Enjoy. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

1. Most publicized jobs: FONKARites and GAMEists. The Yutong bus driver is a close third.
2. The most misunderstood statement: “2011 will be an Action Year.” Di Wo Fie Asem (DWFA) and All Die be Die are close.
3. The most Seetay Waa (aka False hope) Project of the Year: STX Housing Project
4. The most anti-climax moment of the year: The revelation of the Rawlings tape on the Ya-Na killings. In an interview with Joy News on 13 June, the Attorney General, Martin Amidu said “The Rawlings’ Ya Na tape is useless.” According to him the so-called video evidence in the possession of the Attorney General is an interview session between Victor Smith and one claiming to be a cousin of the Ya-Na. “So if there is any tape in the possession of my office it is a tape of an interview between Victor Smith and this gentle man. It is not a tape of what happened on the precise day and time which will give a clue to somebody doing something or saying something or not. It is a tape of something narrated to Victor by someone who claims to be there. That tape cannot be direct evidence in a court of law.”
5. The most consistent utility company: Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG). You could always count on them to disappoint. (They maintained it from last year). Jointly nominated: Ghana Water Company. The Kufour/Mills gallons came back with full force.
6. The most popular new word: FONKAR. Wayome is a close second.
7. The most popular passengers: those in Michael Teye Nyaunu’s Yutong bus story.
8. Most popular make of bus: Yutong. Was even likened to Ghana (still reigning from last year)
9. The most popular social commentator: Dela Cofie.
10. The busiest service unit: Ghana Fire Service. The success rate was, however, low. This year, they got some new equipment. Hope they can now fight fire above four stories.
11. The most silent politician: Dr. Edward Mahama (maintained the position from last year).
12. Political victory of the year: Samia Nkrumah elected Chairperson of CPP.
13. Political loss of the year: Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings. Her aides accused President Mills of earmarking 90 million Ghana cedis for the FONKAR-GAME contest, and ended up getting 90 votes, representing 3.1%.
14. Critic of the Year: J J Rawlings.
15. The most popular abbreviation: DWFA.
16. The most talked about commodity: Oil.
17. NGO of the Year: PNC. Ooops, it is a political party, I forgot.
18. The busiest actor and actress: Agya Koo and Kyeiwaa.
19. The promise most expected to be fulfilled: “2011 is a Year of Action.” (Last year, it featured thus: “The most soothing and well-received political promise: “2011 is a Year of Action”. We had been expecting that statement for two years. Better late than never.”)
20. The most listened-to politician: JJ Rawlings. Everyone listens to his speeches, even when some know they may not like what he says (maintained from last year).
21. Biggest Prank of the Year: The world was coming to an end. According to Yvonne Amenuvor, the biggest idiots in Ghana were those who actually believed the same prank when it was predicted to happen again in November, on 11.11.11.
22. Phrase of the Year: All Die be Die, made by Nana Addo-Dankwa Akufo-Addo. A close second was the statement by Baba Jamal, “If it is a sheep, you can say it is a cow”, in his interaction with staff of the Information Services Department. Nana Konadu A-Rawlings’ “BE BOLD” is worthy of mention.
23. The most popular Movie of the Year: Attah the Mortuary Man.
24. The most inconsistent reason for an action: Baba Jamal giving alternative reasons for the seizure of copies of Attah the Mortuary man movie.
25. The most anticipated death (Africa): The most anticipated death (Africa): Brother Muammar bin Mohammad bin Abdussalam bi Humayd bin Abu Manyar bin Humayd bin Nayil al Fuhsi Gaddafi.
26. Team of the year: Wa All Stars.
27. The most scarce product: LP gas (still reigning).
28. My inspirer of the year: Bright Simons. In 2011, he was named among the top 11 Global Innovators, in the Top 11 in 2011 list. “Bright Simons from Ghana who invented mPedigree, the free text-messaging application for fighting counterfeit medicines, and launched mPedigree Network (www.mPedigree.Net) in Africa and South Asia was named a winner by the mHealth Alliance.” My wish for next year is to meet him in person, keep inspiring us Bright!

29. Entertainment fad (and dance of the year): Azonto.
30. Discovery of the Year: Sodium Bicarbonate
31. Most rewarding career of the year: Financial Engineer
32. Absentee worker of the year: The Speaker of Parliament (won last year as well).
33. Most forgotten Prophet of the Year: Prophet Segbene Xenodzi, the FONKAR prophet, who prophesied that NKA Rawlings would beat Uncle Atta hands down.
34. Joke of the Year: ICC asking the new Libyan Government to investigate the murder of the Brother Gaddafi
35. Sportsman of the Year: Dede Ayew. He was consistent with club and country, active in the Champions League and winner of the BBC African Footballer of the Year.
36. Arrest of the Year: Arrest of former Ivorian President Laurent Gbagbo in a bunker.
37. Comedian of the year: Jointly won by: Kwame Dzokoto – he had a laughter wand with which he turned on Tuesdays, Wednesdays evenings on TV3 and “Kumasi” movie voice overs, and Funny Face in Trotro, who gave us the term ‘No Baga Wire!’.
38. Miracle of the year: transforming Cocaine into baking power. Followed closely by Baba Jamal’s report that President Mills raised his hands over flood waters and caused them to recede miraculously.
39. Facebook Group of the Year: Dummy’s Guide to Ghanamanisms (DGG)
40. The Most Publicised Spiritual Duel: Between Obinnim and Ebenezer
41. The most debated word: Collateralization.
42. “Agyeeeeiiii” moments of the year: Continual postponement of launching of GLO in Ghana.
43. Most Absurd Group of the Year: Unemployed Graduates of Ghana (UGAG). What happens when their executives get employed?
44. Boxer of The Year: Bukom Banku. He is also a ‘hactor’.
45. Most awkward and embarrassing moment of the Year: The minister of health going on sick leave in the middle of Doctors’ strike, only to be found campaigning in his constituency. His explanation was that he was on sick leave and his doctors had asked him to exercise. This is closely followed by the correction that President Mills didn’t graduate from the University of Legon with a first class, as put forward by Baba Jamal.
46. Most truly hilarious statement of the Year: ‘I understand England is on fire.’ President Mugabe’s reaction to the London riots in August.
46. Most Romantic Laughter of the Year: President Mills’ laughter on Asempa FM, in response to the allegation that he had budgeted 90million GH cedis for his flagbearership campaign.
47. Best Acronyms of the Year: FONKAR (Friends of Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings) and GAME (Get Atta Mills Endorsed)
48. Mining Area of the Year: The Elmina Beach front, gold.
49. Toll Collectors of the Year: The Ghana Police Service
50. Tourist of the Year: Nana Akufo-Addo, on his Listening Tours
51. Synonym of the Year: Black Sheep = White Cow
52. Migrants of the Year: Fulanis, especially those who settled in Agogo. The Fulanis were also the most talked about people of the Year.
53. Surprise of the Year: The death of Osama bin Mohammed bin Awad bin Laden.

Nana Fredua Agyeman – Book review: Excursions in My Mind

Title: Excursions in My Mind
Author: Nana Awere Damoah
Publishers: Athena Press
Pages: 134
Year of First Publication: 2008
Country: Ghana
Reviewer: Nana Fredua Agyeman (ImageNations, http://freduagyeman.blogspot.com/)

Nana Awere Damoah’s book Excursions in my Mind began that which was continued in Through the Gates of Thought. As in the latter, this book of inspiration used examples from the author’s own life and from varied sources; prominent figures and books like the bible were not spared. The book was written in simple language and unlike many other books on motivation and inspiration, here the reader – perhaps the Ghanaian or African reader – could be able to relate quite well with most of the examples cited.

Each series – as a chapter is referred to in this 134-page book – begins with a short story or an exposition of the theme or subject matter. The author then goes on to give ‘Action Exercise’ in an attempt to encouraging the reader implement that which he had read. Most at times this is followed by quotes and on few occasions by a poem that gives further expatiation on the said theme.

In all there are thirty-six series with a bonus one, ranging from Books and Knowledge to The Mountain Story covering themes like, goal-setting, financial prudence, dreams, friendship, responsibility, learning, faithfulness, shyness, fear, forgiveness, learning from a loss, waiting and or working for what we want and more. These are themes that are applicable to our lives. Most of my favourite series are those taken directly from the author’s life. Nana discusses his family openly, showing us what goes on within – the dynamics, the challenges, the sacrifices that his parents had to make to send him through school, making him the person he is now. Appreciation comes when one realises that the cost of education requires a willing and able parents to see their children through to the end. Thus, unlike, perhaps, in other places, education is a privilege when it comes one way; that achieved through the sacrifice of parents, especially those in the middle and lower economic class. The author does not back away from the negatives but more importantly he shows us that there are positives even within a negative life, which is what we should concentrate on. Though the author does not shy away from his Christian affiliation, which is seen by his outright declaration, his use of language and quotes from the bible, he also does not dissociate himself from his traditions. And like all themes, he looks at the positive side of this too. He agrees to the proverb ‘if your parents look after you for your teeth to grow, you must look after them for their teeth to fall out’. He demonstrates this using personal examples from his life. Even when Nana Damoah lost his two brothers and a father in a year, he was able to learn from this, realising how ephemeral our life in this world is and how fast we reduce to zero when death comes knocking.

With short chapters and precise language, Nana Damoah has crafted a book that would resonate with a lot of readers, both on this side of the globe with his personal examples, and with everyone through his expositions and quotes. Could this book be the beginning of a memoir? Could this be the beginning of something bigger? Reading every series and the references to his family giving precise years – sometimes to the exact date and day – one is bound to believe that these series would coalesce into a memoir sometime to come. For don’t we all have something to say from our lives? And here Nana’s eidetic memory that seems to make the words come alive on the page would serve him excellently. And when it does, I would be here to read and review it.

This book is recommended and even those for whom any mention of the biblical texts is toxic to their health, there is something to learn from this book if such individuals choose to take the content but not its associated source.

Brief Bio: Nana Awere Damoah was born in Accra, Ghana. He holds a Masters in Chemical Engineering from the University of Nottingham, UK, a first degree in Chemical Engineering from the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology, Kumasi, Ghana. A British Council Chevening alumnus, Nana works with Unilever Ghana Limited. Nana started serious writing in 1993 when he was in sixth form and has had a number of his short stories published in the Mirror and the Spectator. In 1997, he won first prize in the Step magazine National Story Writing Competition. His short story Truth Floats was published in the first edition of African Roar Anthology. He is the creator and editor of Story Loom.

Source:
http://freduagyeman.blogspot.com/2011/09/45-excursions-in-my-mind-by-nana-awere.html

Guest Blogger: Kofi Akpabli – How Cloths Tickle the Ghanaian

HOW CLOTHS TICKLE THE GHANAIAN

KOFI AKPABLI

In today’s global village many would find it hard to understand why we make a fuss about cloths. But the truth is that in Ghanaian society cloths mean the world. Beyond adding style and colour to our fashion sense their usage reflects a range of cultural values.

Be it wax print, fugu, or kente; cloths, more than any other fabric, provide Ghanaians with the basic material for their clothing needs. Cloths allow us to display our elegance. They also serve as mediums to convey traditional symbols. For instance, when some folks want to express a gesture, all they do is select a particular cloth for an occasion.

Our relationship with cloths actually began with tree barks, animal skin and sack cloths (kotoku). The first level of the refined stage is the calico. The advent of colonialism and more specifically, the Dutch connection raised the bar. Cloths thus joined the value list of items such as guns and foreign alcoholic beverages.

But the Dutch involvement was really only accidental. Creatively, designing wax prints is an ancient culture of the people of Java, Indonesia. Because Indonesia was a Dutch colony the Europeans copied the practice and made big business out of it. In dealing with other countries, the wax print became one of their commercial offerings. When it got to the then Gold Coast our ancestors loved the cloth at first sight. Little wonder Holland textile (Dumas/Vlisco) is still top of the range today.

If cloths tickle the Ghanaian, it is because we connect to it in a number of ways every day. This is also true for special occasions. It must be admitted that modernity continues to change our fashion sense. Today’s woman, for instance, could dress attractively over a long period without a piece of cloth item. However, it is also a fact that nothing brings out the African feminine shape than when she is clad in cloth-sewn kaba or boubou.

In Ghanaian society a woman’s attachment to the cloth is special. Among other reasons, the item is part of the dowry when she is given away as a wife. Beyond the bride price, a man’s worth is determined by the quality of cloths his wife puts on. This is because the husband is supposed to take care of her clothing needs.

In the traditions of Northern Ghana, when a women dresses in a cloth it is a sign that she is married or responsible. As a result, many women who prefer a pair of trousers for house chores or farm work still wrap a piece of cloth on top to avoid being scorned.

Cloth wearing in the traditional Ghanaian way requires some skills. The general technique is to hold the cloth from behind and throw the right side across the left shoulder. Experts execute this in one clean swoop. Images of ancient Romans show them in cloths (toga) as we wear them in Ghana today. Any connection?

It must be noted that among men the cloth is worn over a pair of big shorts (knickers) and not with trousers. Also, it goes with sandal-wear, never full shoes and never, ever with socks. Wearing the cloth with ease is such an admirable feat. A very confident man is he who can don the cloth and perform everyday activities gracefully. If he is endowed with a well-built body, all the better. Add some sprinkles of hair on his chest and we are talking about the traditional Ghanaian hunk.

There are different styles of wearing cloth and all have their special names. For instance, if the cloth is worn so that a portion flows and actually sweeps the ground after the wearer, it is called ”me yere be si” to wit, my ”wife will wash it.” In contrast to this show of flamboyance is the Borrower’s Style. This is where the cloth is wrapped very tightly round the body and way off the ground. The borrower must return the cloth unsoiled, remember?

Talking about kaba, there is simply no end to the styles! In general, there is the kaba (a cloth blouse) and slit (long flowing, leg-lenght skirt with a vertical cut). There is also the blouse over skirt. Making the trends lately is kaba blouse over jeans. An accessory of the kaba and slit is the two (2) yard cloth. This stole is held as part of the dressing or folded and placed on the shoulder. Alternatively, it is wrapped round the slit. When our women are facing off for a fight, there is a wild manner in which they tie it round the hip.
Because of our climate in Ghana we don’t do duvets. Sleeping cloth is the way to go. There is nothing more comforting than tucking oneself in a bed completely covered in a cloth whilst it rains on the roof top. It is a cosy escape from an uncertain world.
For wives whose husbands are away, the man’s sleeping cloth is believed to work miracles. In some traditional communities, when the woman is sick she is advised to cover herself in it. Same for young children who become restless during their father’s long absence.
Among the Ewe people, the sleeping cloth is so important that it has a personality of its own. It even has a name, Zavor. Zavor simply means ”night cloth” and it is the closest companion one could ever have in life. The night cloth accepts you for who you are. At the end of each day, whether one is sacked from work, jilted by a lover or rejected by family, Zavor is there to comfort you throughout the night. Zavor will never betray you.
For some families, the cloth serves as an item of stock. Many are the women who have had to sell off treasured cloths just to bail out their husbands in financial trouble. Others do this to pay a child’s school or medical bill. That explains why women never sew up all the cloths in their wardrobe.
The cover cloth is put to a range of romantic uses when it comes to the Ewes. In the morning the traditional man ties the woman’s cover cloth (nyornuvor) around his waist. You may call it his morning coat. Indeed, after a good night’s experience, no gesture seals the union better than when a man ties the woman’s nyornuvor round his waist. This is a luxury the bachelor cannot get.
When day breaks and the wife fetches the husband’s bath water and lifts it to the bathroom, she offers him two things: the towel and her cover cloth. The man puts the cloth around his waist and towel round the neck. In polygamous homes the cloth the man ties shows which of the wives ‘turn’ it is. (Talk about possession).
Another romantic link to the cloth is with the agbadza dance. First of all, it is a taboo for a man to enter the dance ring (not floor, mind you) to do the agbadza without tying a nyornuvor round his waist. If he has to dance, custom demands that he is costumed in a piece of cloth round the waist. This is irrespective of how he is dressed. Therefore, whether a man is in suit or smock he needs to wrap the cloth on top. Distinctively, this is tied ending with a big, suggestive bulge in front of the waist.
Normally, a lady’s nyornuvor is either offered or snatched for the performance. In some instances, after the agbadza dance she must find a way of going to the man for her cloth. Many are the untold tales that such encounters have led to.
Cloths are used to mark the rites of passage. Up to about half a dozen pieces are requested as part of dowry. Among Muslims it could be more. Indeed, in several Muslim communities in Ghana the six (6) yard piece plays a crucial role in marriage rites. After the dowry and all else have been agreed and settled, the bride is released to go and join her new husband in his home. However, before her personal belongings are sent to her, indeed, before she is even introduced to her husband’s family members, the groom must send to the bride’s mother a six (6) yard cloth known as kari kae.
At the birth of each child a husband is supposed to give a light shaded cloth to the new mother. At the onset of puberty an adolescent girl is given a new cloth, usually her first full piece (six yards). Finally, when it is time to bury the dead a cloth is demanded.
Cloths are used to mark auspicious occasions. Sometimes they are commissioned for an event. Other times, the advent of a design coincides with an important happening. For instance, in the colonial era King Prempeh I was captured, put in a ship and exiled to the Seychelles for 20 years. Asante history relates that upon his return to the Gold Coast the King made a trip to Adanwomase to see his Mfufutomahene, (chief weaver) Nana Amankwah.
As a mark of honour, woven blankets were laid upon the ground for the king to walk on. His visit lasted a few hours during which he commissioned three special cloths to mark the return to his homeland. Among them was the designs Ohene a foro hyen (The King has boarded a ship).
When in 1958, Ghana’s first president Kwame Nkrumah married Madam Fathia of Egypt, a kente cloth in vogue was the famous, ”Fathia fata Nkrumah” (Fathia is compatible with Nkrumah).
To buy a cloth for an elder is like the ultimate token. It is not forgotten, nor taken lightly. Conversely, no insult is more demeaning than when you are asked if you have ever bought a cloth for someone you are supposed to buy for.
But gifting a cloth to another person is quite a tedious task. The range, texture, size and colour are all loaded with meaning. For example, cloths for men are generally, not as bright. Even for women, there is a distinction between what one could buy for an elderly woman and a younger one.
For the uninitiated all these could be confusing. But trust our women to know the nuances. In these times of proliferation and imitation they still are able to identify the difference. All they need to do is feel the cloth or even taste it with the tip of their tongue!
In Ghanaian society, some ladies are known never to have worn the same sewn cloths more than once. Not that they don’t like them, but like the haute couture patrons of Paris, each wearing is an event, a celebration of glamour and taste.
Times may have changed, but cloths used to be hard-to-acquire commodity. Because they have such a high value it is said in Ghana that ”if a naked person promises you cloth you need to first cross check his reputation.’’
Whether they have it in abundance or they cannot afford, cloths excite Ghanaians a great deal. It is ironic but one item that shows the importance of cloths is rags. When a young woman delivers her first child it is the grandmother’s duty to present her with a set of cloth rags for the baby’s toiletry.
The idea is that neither the woman nor her mother has accumulated enough to spare. Rags signify life’s journey and the succession of generations. And like the cloths we own, there is a story behind every rag. So whether it is uncut, sewn or tattered, cloths are a souvenir. That’s how important they are to Ghanaians. We love them …to the rags.
kofiakpabli@yahoo.com
Excerpts from the new book:
‘Tickling The Ghanaian- Encounters with Contemporary Culture’ to be launched on Friday August 26, 2011 at the British Council Hall. Time 5:30pm.

Shiny, Bright and New – Review by Maureen Moore

Current events in the good ole U.S. of A. are causing me to turn my sights abroad for inspiration. Thus today’s perspective focuses on the recent work of Nana Awere Damoah, an emerging writer in Ghana whose work is simultaneously intellectual and inspirational.

Damoah has published two books, including Through the Gates of Thought, as well as many short stories, including a morality tale entitled “Truth Floats” which appears in the anthology African Roar, edited by Emmanuel Sigauke and Ivor W. Hartmann. About a year ago I wrote a review for African Roar, but today I will examine Damoah’s work exclusively.

Based on a line written by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Through the Gates of Thought acts as a vehicle of advice by way of anecdotes, vignettes and action exercises, which serve as calls to action. Each chapter is numbered as a “gate” through which the reader passes, after first presenting a series of Akan proverbs along with Emerson’s passage: “The gates of thought – how slow and late they discover themselves! Yet when they appear, we see that they were always there, always open.” One encounters the book’s title as a reflection of Damoah’s desire to have the reader’s mind expanded. And it works!

Read the full review here: http://pinnaclesandthepedestrian.blogspot.com/2011/07/shiny-bright-and-new.html

Nana Konadu Groups

As a follow up on the Egya Atta Groups, find below some existing and suggested groups for Nana Konadu. Enjoy…

 

[With contributions from Francis Doku, Qouphy Obirikorang, Kwabena Antwi-Boasiako, Adjoa Nyame Twiaku, Edmund Sasu, Dzamesi Selorm, Dada Joe]

 

1. FONKAR – Friends of Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

2. KORLIBA – KOnadu Rawling’s Loyalists In Brong Ahafo

3. NKRATUOR 2012 – Nana Konadu Rawling’s Advocacy Team Under Oga Rawlings. Slogan: e dey beee k3k3

4.  YAAANAR – Youth And Adults Against Nana Agyeman Rawlings

5. OKRA TOM – Ohemaa Konadu Rawlings Against Tenacious Old Mills

6.  NKRATE 2012 – Nana Konadu Rawlings Action Team for Election 2012

7. NKARART – Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings And Rawlings’ Ticket

8. ANDANI – Agyeman Nana Deserves All Northerners Inspiration

9. SOAKINGZ – Supporters of Agyeman Konadu In Northern Ghana Zones

10. ORS – Obaa Rawlings Supporters

11. WAWEGYA – West Ashaiman Women Empowered & Groomed (by) Yaa Asantewaa

12. BONKAR – Backers of Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

13. NKOYIE – Nana Konadu’s Organisation of Youth In Enterprise

14. KLM – Konadu Loathes Mills?

15. MAME 2012 – Mama Agyeman Movement for Election 2012

16. DUBNKAR – Dangmes United Behind Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

17. SOFFLAR – Supporters Of Former First Lady Agyeman Rawlings

18. ASANKAR – ASantes Amalgamated behind Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

19. WABOFONKAR – Wassa Amenfi Branch Of Friends Of Nana Konadu Agyemang Rawlings

20. NKARATROF- Nana Konadu Aygeman Rawlings At the Rescue Of Footsoldiers

21. PNDC – Please, Nana Deserves Candidature

22. NKRUMAH – Nana Konadu Rawlings Undermines Mills Atta’s Health

23. BASAFKAR – Brothers And Sisters Alliance For Konadu Agyemang Rawlings

24. FLARK – Footsoldiers Loyal to Agyeman Rawlings Konadu

25.  AZOKAR – All Zongo Organisations for Konadu Agyemang Rawlings

26. BBABB – Be Bold Atta Be Bold

27. ABOA! – Association of Boys Organised for Atta!

28. AMADAA – Action Movement Against Driving Atta Away or Association of Men Against Driving Atta Away

29. POYUNKAR – Passengers On Yutong United for Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

30. AKOBAM – Alliance of Konadu Organisations Boom Against Mills (theme for June 4th)

31. KAT- Konadu Action Team

32. BE BOLD 2012 – Break Established Barriers Or Lose Disgracefully!

33. SALARPA – Supporters And Loyalists Advocating for Rawlings – Pantang Alumni

34. GHANA – God Has Appointed Nana Already

35. AMYBROKAR – Atta Mills’ Yutong Bus Runs Over Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings

36. NKETIA – Nana Konadu (Gets) Elected To Intimidate Atta.

Guardian of the Rented Well – Part 1 (a short story)

The man behind the desk was bent over sheets of paper spread all over the desk. He was seriously working, oblivious of the rhythmic humming of the air conditioner, the soft music being played on the radio, and the continuous knocking on his door. The secretary, who was not unaware of this occasional eccentric behaviour of her boss, opened the door and entered the office after knocking for well over three minutes. The man still went on writing, his handsome face contorted in concentration.

Miss Ocansey smiled at the bent form of her boss. She really loved working with him; she had been with him for about three years as his personal assistant, and she had loved every minute of it. What a boss to serve! Committed, dedicated – and handsome too.

Mr. Stephen Benson was a man of about thirty two years. Slim and tall, he had a body which spelt inner strength and a face bright with intelligence and vision. A graduate of Oxford University, he was the head of the publishing firm, Alonte & Associates, based in Ghana. A leading firm, it was noted for bestsellers in Africa and the plans for the future were to launch into the Caribbeans. Best known by the abbreviation AAA or 3A, Alonte & Associates’ strength lay in unearthing new authors, and making them stars. Some of the titles churned out in the six years of 3A’s existence included House Matters, Turn Not a Blind Eye, Haunted Hunters and A Comedy of Saints.

Stephen was unmarried, and flirtatious bachelor of the highest degree. He held the enviable title of the most eligible bachelor in Accra.

********

“Akos, aren’t you leaving for home?”

“I will, soon. Just want to finish this plot I am working on for the second novel. I told you I finished the first novel and presently looking for a publisher, right?”

“No, you didn’t! You kept that from me! Congrats, my girl. Soon, I will be bragging that I know the best romantic writer in Sikaman.”

“Haha, you are always building up grandiose images! Well, let’s say amen to that!”

“Bye, my dear, do leave soon, OK?”

Akosua tried hard to balance her day job as an engineer with what she called her real job – writing. From an early age, she had dabbled in literary pursuits and her passion for that had never waned. At the end of each day, after rounding up her work as the production shift manager at Bombay Industries, where she oversaw the soaps production lines, she sat behind her desk, thinking, jotting, drafting and writing. It was her way of de-stressing, she just loved writing. Her friend Jemima was her biggest support. After seeing Jemi off hardway to the main gate, Akos returned to her desk and read, again, the last chapter of the manuscript of her first novel “The Showdown”.

*******

“Sir, a visitor to see you, please.”

He still went on writing. Miss Ocansey hesitated for sometime, and tried again. This time, Mr. Benson looked up and realised for the first time that it was past mid-day and that he was very hungry. He had been working for about five continuous hours on the novel “A day to remember”, written by one of his best clients, Nii Noi Narh Snr. A great writer, and a great novel. He wanted to finish it within the month and take a well-deserved rest for a period of time.

“Yes, what can I do for you, Miss?”

“A lady visitor to see you, sir. Can I show her in?”

“Yes, yes. Please do. And a cup of coffee for me, please.” And with that, he resumed his work, with the same serious concentration.

He looked up soon to meet the stare of a lovely lady, standing a short distance away from his desk. She was about twenty-five, he reasoned, and by God, beautiful. For a moment he absent-mindedly stared at her before he came to himself and showed her to a chair in front of him.

The lady sat down gracefully, and with the same grace placed her handbag on her lap. A split moment of silence as their eyes met…

“Mr. Benson Stephen at your service, ma’am.”

He had said this a million and two times in his career and he always felt refreshingly confident each time. Today was no exception. It assured him always of his competence.

“Miss Akosua Nketia is my name. I am an author. I have a novel I want published and a friend recommended you to me at a party. She said you were the best this side of the world; so I decided to rush down to see you. I have the manuscript here. Can you take a look, sir? Here, thank you.”

A knock on the door, and the secretary entered with the steaming cup of coffee. Miss Nketia politely refused Mr. Benson’s offer to have a cup made for her. He took the manuscript and skimmed it, taking sips of the coffee intermittently. Having finished with the script, he placed it on the desk and smiled at the lady.

“Can I call you Akos? Good. The work is perfect, the plot is excellent, I am just in love with the suspense, and your climax is just splendid. I think you’ve got a deal. Anyway, everyone will like to deal with a … beautiful lady like you.”

Adroit at fending off the attentions of men, Akosua answered: “I am glad to hear that, Mr. Stephen…”

“No, no, no, you gave me permission to call you Akos; please call me Ben.”

“…does that mean you will publish it?” She wanted to be sure she heard well, trying very hard to contain her excitement.

“My dear Akos, I said you got a deal. Well… let’s see…can you meet me on Friday at eh…Sadisco Hotel so we can discuss this in more detail? At 4.00 pm? Good. See you then.”

******** 

His major challenge when he heard that he was to spend six months in Kigali was how his sweetheart would fare in his absence. They had been together for close to six years, and their childlessness had even made brought them closer – a couple united against their two families, who in their earnestness and anxiety pestered them each day with questions and suggestions – to see one odifuo or medicine man or the other.

His closest pal, Kofi Adaboh, was excited, however, to be away from his wife. Kofi was the most adventurous person he had ever known, and his expectation was that Kigali would offer both danger and exploration, exploration amongst the natural delights of a foreign land.

******** 

“Akos, tell me, what do you do with your beauty?”

Benson hated beat the side of the drum when the top was available.

“Is that how you flatter all your female clients?”

“No, only the special and pretty ones.”

“I see….”

She smiled shyly and sipped her beer.

Across from Sadisco, the traffic was beginning to build into the evening rush hour, time for workers to drive home, for trotro mates to bluff the passengers they would have begged for during mid-day, for the sun to begin setting. Akos remembered the days she spent during her childhood with her grandmother; in the village, the setting of the sun was glorious. In Accra, no one paid attention to it, traffic made nonsense of every other consideration.

 Benson watched her pensive face, her countenance reflecting the glow he felt sitting with her; a new fish in his pond. He couldn’t wait to start fishing.

…to be continued.