Features
If I were the President…
There are several pertinent issues that must be prioritised if we are to move forward as a nation and therefore if I were the President of the Republic of Ghana…
I would prioritise Town Planning and ensure that, an effective monitoring system of town planning officials are in place. Most of the problems associated with disasters in our country are linked to the haphazard manner structures are sited in the towns and cities across the country.
Flooding in some areas are attributed to the structures that are built on water ways so that when it rains, the flow of water is impeded and it builds up and start entering peoples’ homes, destroying property worth thousands of cedis. Roads also get flooded and occasionally lives are lost.
Stretches of highways get flooded and economic activities are affected due to long queues of vehicles that are generated because the roads becomes impassable for a long time till the level of the flood goes down.
In other instances, the vehicles are restricted to only one lane. The major cause of these floods along the highways are due to filling of wetlands along the highways that are supposed to trap the excess water from the communities, but have been sold to developers and have been filled up and structures built, something that could have been prevented if town planning officials had done their job.
The reported incidents of fire tenders not being able to quench fires, due to lack of access to the place where the fire occurred are countless. This is something that should not happen if efficient town planning is in place and the responsibility falls squarely at the doorsteps of the Town and Country Planning Department.
If I were the President, I would ensure that there would not be anything called ‘kayaye’ in this country. Why should young girls be deprived of the opportunity of pursuing their dreams by obtaining adequate education, in order to unleash their God given talents for their own benefit and the benefit of society at large?
When you go to places where these young girls and women sleep, they are basically condemned to a life of misery. There are numerous cases of attempted rape and teenage pregnancy and a whole lot that happen to these ‘kayaye’ which is clearly a blot on our drive as a country to promote the rights of the girl child.
A deliberate policy should be adopted to address this issue by enforcing the law that makes it compulsory for every child to be in school and also create the enabling environment up north, to motivate people to stay in their communities instead of moving down south for non-existent opportunities.
I would relocate the residents of Old Fadama and Agbogbloshie Market to enable work on the Odaw river beautification project to go on. The Accra Beautification Project which was to have happened by end of 2008 is still in limbo due to lack of political will.
Relocating residents and the market to Adjen Kotoku area, would help in decongesting the central business district of Accra and more importantly be a source of income generation for Accra Metropolitan Assembly.
The perennial challenge of how to resolve the budget deficit would be tackled by initiating an entrepreneurial drive through a closer collaboration between industry and the universities.
There are numerous research projects that have the potential to greatly impact our industrialisation drive but are gathering dust on the shelves in our universities.
The setting up of a system of collaboration between industry and academia, that will sieve through these projects, to identify those with potential for implementation, must be prioritised.
The need for regulating activities of religious leaders, to curtail a lot of anti-social behaviour that has characterised the activities of some so called Men of God, would be prioritised. An acceptable way of licensing must be introduced by a regulatory body, made up of the leaders of the established Orthodox Churches and the Charismatic Churches.
They would determine the promotion and therefore who qualifies to be called a Pastor,Bishop etc. instead of the current situation where people in what is known as one-man churches, ascribe titles to themselves. Such a regulatory body should be clothed with the powers to sanction pastors, whose behaviour goes contrary to sound doctrine.
A system that would reduce the discretionary power of the judiciary as much as possible, would be put in place. Legislation would be crafted such that sentencing of say drug offenders, would be made based on the amount of drugs in terms of weight found on the offender.
I would also ensure that there are undercover auditors who would attend court hearings to monitor the rulings of the judiciary to ensure that justice is served.
The cry for affirmative action would be prioritised and implemented. Legislation would be enacted to compel political parties to reserve most of their safe seats for women as the first step in ensuring enough representation of constituencies by women in parliament.
The positive impact of this on both the social and economic life of the country, cannot be quantified. Shelters for abused children and women would also be prioritised to help protect our women and children.
The funding of the NHIS must be prioritised to ensure a healthy nation to prevent the issue of service providers always threatening to withhold their services due to government defaulting on payment for services rendered. Infrastructure to enable implementation of Telemedicine would also be prioritised to ensure an effective health delivery system and also facilitate the acquisition of cutting-edge knowledge by our health practitioners.
The issue of accidents caused by vehicles left on the roads, would be a thing of the past. Furthermore, heavy trucks that are usually parked on the shoulders of highways, with mechanics working on them, spilling fuel and oil that gradually causes the roads to deteriorate, would also not be tolerated.
In fact, such negligence would be criminalised and offenders would be severely punished. I would ensure provision of rest areas so that such trucks can park off the road for the drivers to rest and also to fix mechanical problems they have so they would not have any excuse to use the main road for such activities.
Laud Kissi-Mensah
Features
Just in time part 3
Esaaba went to her room, closed the door and sat on the bed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she took her decision. If she was going to have her peace of mind and get along with her parents and sister, the only way was to find a place to rent and live on her own.
She picked up her phone to talk to an estate agent when her door opened gently, and her parents walked in, Esaaba following. ‘Esaaba’, her dad began, ‘we are sorry for what has happened. We are very sorry. But I wish you would understand that as your parents, we mean well.
We want a good future for you. Naturally we are concerned that you have been, er, a little late in settling down with a man. That is why we took the steps we did. We will continue to pray for a solution. In fact, it is possible that Stanley will realise what he’s missing and get in touch again’. ‘Dad, I’m not going to discuss this issue with you again. It is quite obvious that you don’t agree that it is my right, as a right thinking adult, to make my own choices. So I am going to rent a place as quickly as possible and move out.
If I don’t, we will continue to argue over this issue. I’m not prepared to allow anyone, even my parents, to choose a husband for me. And as for you Baaba, let me warn you, never get involved again in any issue concerning me, because apart from being very simple minded, you need to learn a few things in life.
Don’t assume anything’. ‘What do I care?’ Baaba snapped. What do I need from you?’ ‘Get out of my room!’ she shouted. Beesiwa walked out, followed by their parents.
Esaaba decided that she needed space to clear her head. She went to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her hair and, after checking to make sure that she had her copy of the front door key, went out. The only place she could think of, she thought, was Jackie’s, the open air joint.
It was never too full, and they played mostly soft music. And the food was nice. It was just what she needed to clear her head. She decided against a taxi and strolled down, and took a seat.
She sat down, and as the waiter walked up to take her order she saw Marian Mensah sipping a drink. ‘Hey Marian! Where on earth have you been?’ ‘Look who is asking questions. I have been trying to find you for ages. Where have you been?’ ‘I live some two hundred metres from here. And you know I’m a TA on campus’. ‘I didn’t know that. And guess who has been asking for your number, almost desperately?’ The only person I can think of is David Essel, and apart from the fact that he’s not in Ghana, I don’t think he will want to call me’.
‘Well, it’s him alright. He came back a month ago. He called last week, and said he heard you had gone to do a Master’s programme on a university scholarship, and he also heard you were working with a drug company. But he obviously didn’t know you were on campus, because he would have fished you out a long time ago’.
‘Why, is he doing anything on campus?’ ‘Yes, he’s just got a job as lecturer at the Statistics Department’. When he called and said he wanted to contact you, I teased him that you hadn’t changed, that perhaps you were the same difficult person you were, and he replied that perhaps you had changed’.
‘Do you know what? I really liked the guy, but maybe I didn’t know him well because of the three year gap. Perhaps if he had taken a little time I would have agreed. He is quite good looking, always looking neat, and he had a great sense of humour. And you know, I was afraid of the girls who were always hovering around him. Do you have his number?’ Marian called him, and within twenty minutes David had joined them at Jackie’s. ‘Good to see you ladies. ‘Esaaba, it’s been ages. I thought I would never find you’. ‘Listen, you two’, Marian said, I’m sure it would be best for you if I vanished from here. So off I go. Call and let’s meet, this weekend if possible’.
They ordered food and drinks, and chatted for quite a while about their activities since they last met. David went to Denmark on a PhD scholarship from a food processing company that is well represented in West Africa.
He also spent some time working in the company’s research Department, for which he was paid rather well. Esaaba, on her part, told him about her experiences as a National Service person and Teaching Assistant at her department.
She was hoping to start a Masters Degree programme at the Department, but was also exploring the possibility of getting a university scholarship to study abroad. ‘David, I don’t mind hanging around a little longer because I live close by, but in your case you will be driving for a while, so if you like, we can meet again in the next few days’.
‘Okay, my car is parked over there. But first give me your number. Can we meet in the next couple of days?’ ‘We certainly can. I will be moving from my parents’ place very soon, maybe in the next few days, so I will tell you my location when you call’.
‘Why are you moving from your parents’ place, if I may ask? Something interesting happening?’ ‘How shall I say it? My parents think I am delaying in getting a husband, so they have been putting pressure on me to get married.
In fact they tried to force a guy on me, and it backfired’. ‘O dear. I was about to ask you a question on this topic
By Ekow de Heer
Features
The wahala of Sikaman MPs (1)
The arrival of the MP is an occasion
Some parliamentarians are regretting their MP status, because they find it difficult to visit their hometowns in broad- daylight. When they were nobodies, they spent every weekend at home, savouring the best palm wine somewhere in the corner, rendez- vousing with old-time girlfriends and reporting back to work on Monday with a hangover.
Today, when they visit home, they normally do so under the cover of darkness. It has nothing to do with security. Neither has it to do with the dregs of palm wine. It all borders on financial strategy.
The problem is that the folks back home see their MP as a bag of money. He is regarded as the only person who can solve their school fees problems, settle the funeral bills, offer free palm wine and pay for tobacco snuff so that the nostrils of the old folks can be sufficiently cleared noisily every dawn.
So the MP’s arrival in the village is an occasion in itself. He must be welcomed with drumming and dancing. The latest dance styles must be released in honour of the son of the town, the honourable of honourables, okatakyie MP, Nana-o- Nana!
A mini-durbar can even be organised post-haste in his honour and he would be expected to deliver a speech. If he has no prepared speech, he must all the same make an address extempore, like J.J. Rawlings.
Such a speech will be expected to be a sequel to the campaign promises, an extension to the good things promised on the political platform some one-and-half years ago. The MP had indeed brought himself; nobody asked him to come.
The master of ceremonies who is likely to be the town crier also known as gong-gong beater, will officiate. The town criers are noted for their alcoholic licence, their caustic tongue and their long memory. They can recall events, dates, speeches and resolutions. Most importantly, they can embarrass.
A typical gong beater is sure to take a quarter-size of ‘yayaaya’ before delivering his welcome address.
“Keep quiet, keep quiet!” he’d begin.” If I hear you talking. I’ll hit your buttocks with my coconut head.” That is enough to bring more mirth and noise than the man wanted to curb. Finally, a measure of silence will be maintained.
“We welcome our illustrious son back in our midst. We are all happy that he has realised that he cannot hide forever. Your hometown is your hometown. We acknowledge his busy schedule, but we also expect him to be among us to propel our spirits to heights unimaginable.
“We politely remind our son of the promises he made to us for which we exercised the power of our gonti (thumb) in his favour. The promises need to be fulfilled. Look at my moustache, it is overgrown. When a man’s moustache outgrows his upper-lip, it means he is overdue for poverty alleviation.
“We would not take the words out of the mouth of our dear son. May be the poverty alleviation fund is in his briefcase, who knows?”
At this juncture the entire crowd will be thrown into pandemonium. Different interpretations would be given to the briefcase palaver and speculations would be rife as to the contents of the magical briefcase.
At least one person in the crowd will volunteer the information that he actually ‘peeped’ into the briefcase when the honourable MP opened it to get a receipt he was looking for. It was full of Sikaman dollars.
The MP knows that the occasion is not auspicious for a long address. The people have grown wiser and are not impressed with long speeches and grandiloquence. What they want is money to buy mahogany bitters to cure their kooko.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’m glad to be with my kith and kin once again. My schedule doesn’t allow me to come home every weekend as I used to do. I must admit that I miss the weekly palm wine I used to have in times past.
“Nananom, ladies and gentlemen, the promises I’ve made are meant to be fulfilled. In fact, that is why I’m here today.”
The uproar must surely be deafening. The man had indeed arrived. He has brought the money to transform Owuokrom overnight. The excitement ends up in drumming and dancing.
The MP is quickly whisked to the venue of an outdooring. He donates to the couple. A funeral is around the corner and he is promptly made the chairman of the occasion. He donates heavily.
“Honourable,” an oldman will stop him in his tracks. “Don’t you recognise me? I held your legs when you were circumcised 35 years ago. When I saw your car coming I felt proud. I’m your uncle Kofi Badu.”
The MP looks at the oldman. None of his uncles is called Kofi Badu. He knows the oldman wants something for his afternoon and dashes him GH¢20, 000. The palm wine and snuff. The man is overjoyed and breaks into a native dance.
The MP must now run away. The briefcase is almost empty. Yet he has not remitted his old man and old woman, He does so in a flash and the next minute he is speeding towards Accra. “These people, they’ll kill me-o,” he will say to himself.
This article was first published on Saturday, July 13, 2001
