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…of COVID-19 and high delivery fees

COVID-19 has pushed many consumers to jumped on online shopping because it has proven to be the most convenient way of buying during this era as people are cautioned to practice social distancing.

Stay away from overcrowded places and shopping centres are definitely places anyone mindful about their health will be careful about. 

Therefore, digital marketing has become an ideal medium for businesses to promote their products and services. 

Buying online is fast, easy and stress free as you confirm your order, pay for it before it’s delivered or pay on delivery but does this kind of convenience match with how much the ordinary Ghanaian has to pay as delivery fee?

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Once a while I come across people ranting about how much they paid as delivery charges more than the cost price of the product they actually bought online but I flip over because it doesn’t concern me. 

Lo and behold, I got my own share of how it hurts to feel that way. I was practically charged GH¢35  as delivery fee for GH¢ 20 meal I ordered from Adenta to Airport. 

Honestly, I complained bitterly and called the food vendor to express my displeasure about the ridiculous fee though they reduced it to GH¢15 in the end, I paid feeling pained.

Note, it was not as if I could not afford the fee but it just did not make sense paying that much. And knowing how much they charge for deliveries in and around Accra, I just could not wrap my head around why this had to be so expensive. 

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On this note, I decided to conduct a social media survey on my personal blog, Kuburah Diamonds on Facebook just to be sure I was not over reacting about this particular delivery charge. 

Below are the responses I sampled:

Hajia Faa Alfa said: “I think I had the worst experience ever. I bought waakye from Newtown GH¢30 and when the delivery guy got to me, he said delivery alone was GH¢50. So I asked him if what he was delivering was gold, I was so upset to the bone but I gave him the money.” 

Another respondent, Jumai Abayor, ordered veils and decided to pick them up herself but the vendor gave them to delivery person and asked that she pay GH¢18 for delivery from Fan milk to Darkuman.

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“I bought Jollof rice at GH¢40 from East Legon to be delivered to me at Labadi. He charged GH¢45 for delivery. I was very sick and hungry so I had no other choice but to pay never again,” Abdulai Fakiha said.

It is clear that some  delivery fees charge by some business owners are becoming more expensive than the item itself.” There are similar experiences of other patrons who make orders.

Zulfawu Muntari, also an online shopper, explained “Because of high prices of delivery fee I have stopped buying online, their prices need to be regulated.” 

Meanwhile others have found better ways of lessening the burden on their customers. 

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Muhammed Mijin Zealatu, a business owner, said: “When I started producing my own cereals, I did the deliveries myself. It was very stressful honestly but I got the chance to come to a negotiation with my customers so if the location is too far, I bear half of the delivery fee and the customer pays the rest so it wouldn’t cause any problems between them and the delivery guy.” 

Another trader also said she had negotiated with the delivery company she worked with in order to manage cost incurred by customers. Others are asking their customers to pick items up themselves if the item does not require too much packaging.

I believe this issue is of much concern to many people especially in this pandemic era. It is not appropriate for business owners to take undue advantage of their patrons in the name of delivery fee.

Undoubtedly, most start ups  – small to medium scale businesses fall largely on delivery services to run their day to day activities. However, they need not fleece their patrons. I suggest they take a second look at their charges. 

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Adizah Kuburah Braimah 

Social Commentator @Kuburah Diamonds

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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.

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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’.

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‘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.

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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.

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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

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Leakages and  academic dysentery

Sikaman Palava

Student life just prior to GCE exams is as interesting and adven­turous as it is tragic. It is a period during which recalcitrant finalists are tempted to break into backyard poul­try outfits of senior house-masters, so that they can enjoy chicken-soup while “ghosting.”

And in mixed schools, it is during this revision period that boys and girls alternate studies with romance in such a way that at the beginning of the long vacation, the girls can clandestine­ly approach unscrupulous doctors to scoop out growing babies from their bellies.

A few weeks to the beginning of the first paper, many students devel­op physical and imaginary illnesses ranging from amnesia to kpokpomatics (nervousness). The budding finalist who is serious and level-headed plans his study time-table and allots time for bath, meals, siesta and snoring.

Such candidates follow their own regimented programme to the letter and enjoy normal life while studying for their exams. They are health-con­scious, do not take drugs and they enjoy rest to avoid brain fag.

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There are other serious students, however, who are not concerned about health. They are so busy, or claim to be, that they refuse to take their bath, comb their hair, wash their hands before eating and sometimes, simply refuse to go to “toilet”. This is quite revolutionary and I wonder how they manage it. But that is not all.

They take ‘caterpillar’ to keep awake, fail to wash their cover-cloths, and have air conditioners permanently installed in their armpits. These are students who are on the war-path to­wards academic distinction but ironi­cally very few of them do well.

Some are so over-zealous that they pack and carry books for all their eight or so subjects to the classroom swear­ing to ‘chew’ all before day-break. They end up learning virtually noth­ing because they prefer the rhythmic snoring using their books as pillow to cramming Abbot.

The following morning, they will be the first to impress their colleagues: “I swear my father’s moustache that last night I did what Napoleon could not do.” For sure, Napoleon did not sleep that much. Ninety per cent of such students end up in the academic grave with grade 9s, subsidiary passes and FAIL as their lot.

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Incidentally, however, those cate­gory of students are more acceptable to organised society than the happy-go-lucky ones who regard academic excellence as sacrilegious and, there­fore, include discoing, wee-smoking, chasing form-two girls and stealing gari from frail chop boxes in their study programme.

These are the students who are so intellectually deviant that they keep on praying papers should leak so that they can prove to their ‘book-long’ fel­lows they are a force to reckon with.

A month to exams they go hovering about West African Examinations Coun­cil (WAEC), forcing tete-a-tete with crooked officials some of whose faces look hungry enough to accept money in exchange for exam papers.

Others trot from school to school contacting friends of similar feather to obtain information about possible leak­age points. The girls become unusually liberal to the Assistant Headmaster who may, as a reciprocal gesture, be tempted to ‘peep’ two or three Maths questions from one paper to offer as sure tips after carefully changing the wording. These assistant heads, there­fore, become alphabetical surgeons; a very infamous occupation.

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In the 70s, the incidence of leak­ages and exam malpractices became so rampant among the WAEC countries that Nigeria swore to rid its territory of the epidemic.

They did succeed. Sikaman author­ities also swore same, and for some time, ears became free from news about leakages, impostors and ‘copia­to’ (copying during exams).

But just as we had begun the last decade of the 20th Century, the plague re-surfaced and today some students and their allies are under lock and key for the part they played in this scholas­tic uprising.

Papers leak right from WAEC strong rooms, police stations and assistant headmasters’ vaults.

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When papers for instance go into transit at the police station for onward transmission to the exam centres, sur­gical operations are performed on the sacks and the papers extracted and put on sale on the open market.

Sometime ago, the situation degen­erated so much that Makola women were seen hawking. Additional Mathe­matics papers just like tomatoes and garden-eggs.

One interesting but unfortunate thing about leakages is that it does no one ultimate good. To a brilliant student, a leaked paper in his posses­sion makes him unable to justify his intellectual capacity and his scholastic worth is over-shadowed.

To the brainless, it is simply a disas­ter. He has no brains whatsoever to im­bibe solution to the answers. He has to choose the alternative of entering the exam room with copied answers. And there, he becomes a copy-writer and proof-reader. Speed is his best asset, but he is most likely to be caught.

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One block-headed student who acquired a leaked paper was faced with the problem of choosing between ‘chewing’ the answers (which was virtually impossible in view of his de­ficient IQ), and turning himself into a speed copy-writer. He however decid­ed to do neither of these.

In the exam room he considered his plight. All his friends and enemies were also in possession of the paper and had prepared so well that they were going to clock beautiful grades. And he, the only JUDAS in the lot will surely wind up with a grade 9. What!! God forbid!

On the answer sheet he wrote a very brilliant letter to the examiner in clear hand-writing and similar to this:

“Dear Sir, this very paper you are marking is under massive leakage, and I know that people are going to blow it paa-a! But as for me, although I also had all the questions, I am as daft as a live sheep. My father had no brains in his big head. As for my mother, the least said about her, the better. And as you know that a dog does not beget a cat, I was born an idiot.”

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“So when I got the questions, I didn’t know what to do with them. Will you please therefore consider me and pass me too. Otherwise, I alone will die of academic dysentery. Thanks for your usual cooperation. Yours faithful­ly…”

The paper was cancelled, and students had to suffer the expense of re-registration and frustration, not forgetting the loss of time.

The only solution to this grave problem of exam leakages and allied criminal offences is that the law must prescribe stiffer punishments for those who perpetrate and or collaborate to further these criminal practices.

Those convicted of these offences must be packed away for as long as would be possible to make them forget about exam papers. Such a deterrent measure would help minimize the problem. Proper security arrangements must be organized by authorities of WAEC to rid Sikaman of this recurrent menace.

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We must all endeavour to prevent the situation where outsiders will feel inclined to refuse recognising our dear certificates which many have toiled for, but which a dangerous few want to obtain without sweat.

This article was first published on Saturday, June 30, 1990.

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