Features
Is Black Power dead?
Not all Blacks on the planet are African, though the greater majority claim African descent. The Aborigines of Australia are black, so are the indigenous people of far-flung areas like Papua and the Fijian Islands. I am told some of them lay claim to African origins. Er, all Blacks see Africa as the Motherland or Mother Continent.
I am a Pan Africanist. I believe in my people and the values that stand us apart from other peoples as handed down the ages by our forebears. Africans are naturalists, very religious and very spiritual. Then the advent of the Europeans changed all that. Slavery changed all that. The Europeans came with the Bible, took our forebears, our gold and other natural resources and all we have today are more Bibles on the African continent than anywhere else on the globe; and we are the poorest.
I turned five when Ghana became independent of colonial rule. I recollect the euphoria that greeted this occasion on the streets of Koforidua and even at Keta later in the fall of that year when I joined my grandparents. But I had no understanding of what was going on around me. I was just enjoying being a child, what else? I enjoyed going to school, in spite of my initial protestations. I hated rhymes, and still do. “Bah bah black sheep have you any wool” made no sense to me. “One two, buckle my shoe” when I wore no shoes to school made very little sense, if any at all.
Till date, I do not know any rhymes and, as a result, did not teach rhymes when I came out of training as a teacher. Now, I am extremely glad I did not like this colonial legacy.
History and the independence stories began to intrigue me and open my consciousness to who the African was. Oral accounts of the Slave Trade as I heard them from the coastal areas got me to appreciate the bravery of the Black Man. I heard the story of Kundo who was so spiritually endowed that when the Europeans put him on the steamer, the ship would not move an inch. No matter how hard the Europeans tried, the ship would not budge so long as they had Kundo on board. In the end, Kundo said if it was his destiny he would go along with them. Then the steamer moved. There is an Ewe dirge in memory of Kundo.
Nkrumah symbolised hope for the Ghanaian, the African and the Black Man. As a child I heard these from the narratives of my grandparents, especially my grandfather. The Osagyefo was all the people needed to take their collective destiny into their own hands. Ablorde (freedom) was the refrain among my people. The people loved Komla Agbeli Gbedema equally; very likely because he came from my hometown of Anyako. To them, he was a hero.
There was a heavy rainstorm in the dawn of February 24, 1966, while I was a teenager at Anyako and I overheard my grandmother say the storm was no ordinary one; she suspected it had a tinge of foreboding to it. Just a little later my grandfather had his small transistor radio to his ear and announced that Nkrumah had been overthrown. A pall of despondency swept over everyone in the compound. Later news that the coup was led by Colonel E. K. Kotoka from nearby Fiaxor, assisted by J.W.K Harlley, a native of Anyako whose elder sister was married to my father’s elder brother, did not assuage the worry of our people.
My maternal uncle, E. S. Fia Demanya, an Astrologer, Psychic and Diviner, had warned Nkrumah that if he traveled to Hanoi he was unlikely to return to Ghana ever again. Nkrumah ignored him. Later events revealed that the American CIA was behind the overthrow of the Nkrumah administration. The initiator of the African personality, the prime mover of the emancipation of the African continent was seen as a thorn in the side of the white man and had to be removed. It was, and still remains, a dark day in the history of the Black Man.
Our independence is meaningless because the slave mentality lives with us in spite of the abolition of that infamy. Mental slavery is a more lingering phenomenon than the physical scars wrought by the slave traders. The white women did not quite understand why their men were getting the Negro slave women pregnant. They later discovered that the kinky African hair gave the Black woman a certain distinct beauty and sensuality their masters could not resist. Either plaited or woven, the African hair was a thing of beauty and elegance about it.
The white mistresses had to resort to getting the slave women clean shaven to forestall the lecherous activities of their men. Fast forward to the sixties and the Black Power Movement in the United States; in vogue was what was known as the ‘Afro Hair’ where Blacks let their hair grow into bushy groves. Added to the Black Power salute with a clenched fist high up in the air, the Afro became a symbol of Black beauty and Black resistance.
There was this militant young black lady called Angela Davies. She was the face of the Black Resistance Movement in the sixties who was branded communist by the US government. She was harassed, arrested many times but she kept the fight. Did she fight the cause in vain?
My research revealed that the Afro hair put the fear of the devil in the white folks. Some of the Blacks were said to have hidden combs, pairs of scissors and other ‘weapons’ in their hair from which they stabbed the white ‘enemies’. So, the white folks got to work and developed hair relaxers in their chemical laboratories. One after the others the African-American, as they are known now, have become enslaved again; only this time by relaxers to take their distinct identity from them.
One can hardly see an African-American with Afro hair today. Skinhead is in vogue, thanks to the ingenuity of the slave master. Back in the day, white skinheads were the renegades affiliated to criminal gangs in the ghettos. It is considered uncultured to sport an Afro hair in the United States today. Whose culture, one may ask? How come the Orientals in the US have kept their culture in spite of being well integrated in the society? China Town in all major US cities attests to this. Is it because they were not enslaved?
Back home, we have become more Catholic than the Pope. Our women shy away from the plaited or combed hair. They spend more time in the hair salon than they do in their own kitchen. Both our men and women dress more European than the white man. We put on suit in the sweltering African heat under the guise of being civilized. Kaba for women has been christened ‘Friday Wear’. We are quick to defend this with the excuse that the Western attires give us ease of movement. This is as laughable as the fact that we don’t feel impeded in our movements on Fridays in Kaba. A great majority of Nigerians are proud to be in their African apparel at all times.
When I introduce myself as Akofa Segbefia, the immediate response is, “Don’t you have a Christian name?” as if I am supposed to be a Christian at all cost.
I visited an uncle. When a call came through from the head office of the company he worked for, he got up with the receiver in one hand and the other hand behind his back as he identified the caller to be the European boss. Would the white man see this supplication through the telephone line, I asked myself. Of course, it is good manners to show respect to your boss, but we carry the mental slavery to rather bizarre heights.
China has learnt a lot from the West, but the Chinese have developed without sacrificing their culture or identity. By Western standards China is still regarded as a developing country even though China is the second largest economy in the world. Today, China is said to grant more loans to the developing countries than all the Western economies put together.
Our African leaders wear Western clothes to their meetings, except a few. There are suit wearing leaders asking us to patronize made-in-here goods, stifling local entrepreneurships in favour of foreign investors whose avowed aim is to milk us dry and repatriate their earnings to their countries. We have leaders who kowtow to the whims and caprices of the white man. Those countries force their cultures and beliefs down our throats and would not accept ours; and we sheepishly acquiesce.
The words of my friend Jerry John Rawlings keeps reverberating in my ears: “Christianise me if you may, but don’t Europeanise me.” Have we as yet understood want Rawlings meant? Where is the Black Power?
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia
Writer’s email address
akofa45@yahoo.com
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Features
The Prophet part 4
Antobam woke up with a terrible headache. He checked the time on his mobile phone, 2:30 am. “What! Where is the money?” He asked aloud. “Where are those girls? Why did I drink so much of that whisky? What were those two girls up to?” He sat up on the bed and noticed a bulge close to the pillow.
He lifted the mattress and picked up the newspaper wrappers with the neatly arranged notes. He saw the neatly written record of the value of the notes. No, those girls are not thieves.
“It was my mistake. If I hadn’t drank myself to sleep they would be here in bed with me, giving me the time of my life. Pretty girls, those two. And so loyal and honest. Tomorrow will be different.”
“I will not drink any whisky, and I will show them that I am a real man. Just then he heard the whispers. Very soon it will be time, they seemed to be saying. This is an important day.”
The gold dealer will bring lots of money. Give him some of the liquid to drink, and we will prepare him. He will do very big business, and he will give you anything you ask for. There will be more miracles and testimonies today.
Antobam smiled to himself. “I am going to be a very rich man in only a few days man. Money, power, and women. Wow! Antobam got to the grounds at 5, but there were quite a number of people waiting.
Mr Kwame Dofu was among them. He greeted them all, and they came around to shake his hand. “My brothers and sisters, I assure you that whatever your problem is, you will not go home without a solution.” Shouts of “Amen” “thank” you Osofo and “you are a true man of God” responded.
“Please take your seats, and start talking to the great one about whatever bothers you. Before the service is over, there will be a solution.” He waved Mr Dofu over, and went with him to the wooden structure that serves as a temporary office.
“My brother, I have done quite a lot of work on the issue you came to see me about. I have prepared a special, powerful package for you. Take this, drink it, and go back to your business. I want to see you in two weeks.”
Beaming with smiles, Mr Dofu drank the foul smelling liquid in two gulps, said a big thank you to Antobam and took his leave. “I believe you, Papa Osofo. And I assure you that I will reward you, big time.”
Just when Osofo Antubam finished with Mr Dofu, Mary and Suzzie went over to him. “Good Morning ladies. I am very sorry about yesterday. I drank too much of the stuff you gave me. Today will be different, I assure you.”
“Don’t worry, Osofo. Since you are now setting things up, our main concern now is to help you to put things in place, and to make you comfortable. We are always there to serve you. This morning, Osofo, we want to go and clean up your place, and prepare something nice for you when you close.
And before coming to church, we will pass by the bank and collect the forms. After you have signed them, the account will be open. You can check the payments anytime and, of course, issue cheques whenever you need money.”
“Suzzie and Mary, I am happy I picked the two of you from the very start. Listen, I will take good care of you, okay? Here is some money. Buy whatever you need for the errands you have mentioned.
And here is the key. Please come back as early as you can. You know I need you here.” The service was very lively. The lively singing of praise songs was followed by one and a half hours of testimonies.
Most of them related to money – big sales, new jobs and overdue debts paid. But there were also testimonies about healing. Barren women had taken seed, and, of course, several men who had lost their bedroom authority had regained them, to the delight of their partners.
As he had promised, Antobam preached for only 30 minutes, exhorting the congregation to attend church regularly, pay their tithes and offerings, and strictly follow his ‘directions’ for securing solutions to their problems.
After another round of praises during which the congregation danced to the floor to drop their offering, he closed the service, grabbed the big bowl which was full to the brim with money, and moved to his desk. A long queue was quickly formed at the desk.
Meanwhile, Mary and Suzzie had gone to give Antobam’s place quite a decent look. A new bedsheet and pillows, a secondhand carpet and four plastic chairs placed in the verandah had done the trick.
They also prepared two fish and chicken stews. After all these, they rushed to the National Savings Bank and collected application forms for opening current and savings accounts.
They joined the service a few minutes before the main session closed. Antobam looked round and saw, to his relief, Mary and Suzzie moving towards him. “Hello ladies. What have you been up to?” “Quite a bit, Osofo. We’ve just collected your drink. Here you are. We’ve made a few changes at your place. I think you will like it. You will also have something nice to eat. Now, here are the forms for the savings and current accounts.
If you will sign them, the bank will open the account. From today, we can pay all monies direct into the account.” ‘How can I thank you, ladies?” “You don’t need to thank us,” Suzzie said. “It is our duty to help a man of God succeed.” “Okay, my ladies, please take the offerings and count them as you did yesterday.
You can add the payments made after the consultations. Will it be possible to pay them into the account today?” “Yes,” Mary said. “The bank closes at four. If we leave here at three, we would be there just in time.”
The two friends started counting, as Osofo Antobam gave his clients his directions for solving their problems. On quite a few occasions he closed his eyes as if he was receiving direction from above on what to do.
But as the fetish priest at the Nana Kofi Broni shrine and the dwarfs had assured him, the solutions would certainly be provided. Having heard the huge testimonies earlier in the day, the clients parted with substantial sums of money in expectation.
By Ekow de Heer
Features
The issue of spiritual father in our churches
A student was supposed to go to school as the natural cause of events should be when universities or schools in general opens but this was not the case in a certain young man’s life.
He decided to postpone his trip because apparently he could not get to meet his pastor, his spiritual father. The question is, should this spiritual father die, will the young man’s life come to an end?
Does it mean in such an instance, he is going to curtail his education? This is a worrying trend in a lot of churches where the pastors use this notion of spiritual father to manipulate members especially the youth.
Some unscrupulous pastors utilise this spiritual father concept to have affairs with gullible young ladies in their churches.
Now with homosexuality gradually making inroads into some of the churches, young men are becoming vulnerable to pastors who have hidden homosexual inclinations.
This spiritual father concept is a Biblical concept that runs through both the Old Testament as well as the New Testament. We see it in 2 Kings 4:12 where Gehazi is serving Elisha and also in the New Testament we see Paul relating to Timothy in 1 Timothy 1:2 as a Spiritual Father.
In fact, the concept of spiritual father is a good thing if executed according to the word of God since it helps in guiding the younger ones. However, it becomes problematic when it is being executed by unscrupulous wolves in sheepskins as described by Jesus in Mathew 7:15.
I see it as a way that these unscrupulous so-called men of God maintain their hold on the congregants so they do not question their unchristian actions.
One of the things I have observed since I got born again many years ago is that, any pastor who often insists that members recognise that he is their spiritual father is a warning sign that he is doing some wrong things or is about to indulge in some wrong things.
A parent complained about how his daughter was being influenced by a pastor of the church she attends and how worried he was. I am sure there are many parents out there with stories to tell about how their wards are being made to see their pastors almost like their Jesus.
These pastors have managed to make their congregants so loyal to them and to believe in them so much that it is terrifying, as a parent.
The way things are going, an immediate intervention is required otherwise I am not a prophet of doom but I forsee unfortunate instances where parents burst into church auditoriums and star shooting some Pastors out of frustration and anger.
We cannot look on unconcerned as a society and allow unscrupulous fraudsters using the name of God to create problems for families. My recommendation is for a certain amount of regulation in order to bring some sanity in religious practices.
I agree that ordinarily regulating religious practices makes it a bit restrictive in terms of freedom of worship as enshrined in our constitution but given the way things are going, a bit of regulation will not be out of place.
Disgusting stuff are being attributed to some men of God. There are cases of manipulation of young ladies and sometimes married women by so called men of God and it is bringing Christianity and therefore the name of the Lord into disrepute.
Christianity is gradually losing its attractiveness as a result of the negative reportage resulting from disgusting stuff happening in Christian circles. The way some pastors have been manipulating congregants to take money from them leaves much to be desired to the point where they are convincing some of the youth to give out their phones. May God help us.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
