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Of professionals and good living

Smiling black woman speaking on smartphone in office

Smiling black woman speaking on smartphone in office

Today, everybody is a profession­al or claims to be. As such watch repairers, waakye sellers, dog-chain peddlers, way-side preacher men, armed robbers, among others, now call themselves professionals and go away scot free.

In similar manner, we have people who call themselves professional un­employed, and professional students, whatever that means. I’m often surprised why doctors, journalists, teachers and lawyers do not protest.

I am however, tempted to be­lieve that the true professionals are silently protesting by refusing to call themselves professionals because they cannot be unequally yoked with non-professionals who are fighting day and night to appropriate the appellation for themselves.

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When ‘professionals’ in the cos­tume of grave-looters, chop-bar operators and city magicians decide to leave Sikaman to work for ‘bread and butter’ in Namibia, Syria or West Germany (better known as Jaamani), there is usually no cause for alarm. Even in certain quarters, their exit is very welcome since certain social problems like burglary, prostitution and unemployment are minimised when they flock away. Also, there will be less mouths to feed. Times are hard!

In polar-opposite stance to this, there is always a hue and cry when recognised professionals, especially doctors and teachers start talking about colour televisions, deep- freez­ers, video-decks, and portable cars, all of which could be obtained in countries where gold is supposed to be lining street pavements.

In the 70’s, Nigeria (Agege) was the action spot from where even construction- labourers could return home flaunting two- in-one tape re­corders, sweet-smelling toilet-soap, economy-size Omo packets, track-suits, black-and-white television sets and many more. Some even came with Lagosian wives and their Yoruba children trailing behind them, grin­ning happily to be in Sikaman.

In those days it was the teachers who quickly detected the oil-boom. Having got to Nigeria, some even decided to abandon the profession to slave in any menial job if only that could bring in Naira for show in Sikaman.

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In the heat of the mass exodus, our classrooms were abandoned while teachers joined the Agege-train. The situation became a national problem as pupils could hardly spell their own names.

Meanwhile, Nigerian classrooms became filled with trained teachers from Sikaman. It was only when Ali Baba (then Nigeria Interior Minister) decided that enough was enough that Sikaman exiles started crying back home. Incidentally, the reputed land of milk-and-honey was not what it used to be. Nigerians had their own problems to solve.

Quite recently, teachers attempted another professional uprising when they started heading for Zambia which many described as the new­ly-found pasture. Then came the Namibia independence. Sikaman dwellers immediately equated inde­pendence with prosperity and began making plans to go and partake of the wealth. Many did go and surely got frustrated. Many were also duped and are still nursing the pain.

Day in day out, intellectuals keep seeking greener pastures. However, some teachers and other profession­als who are patriotic enough to stay are making extra incomes by engag­ing themselves as susu collectors, backyard gardeners, poultry farmers, lotto forecasters, etc. If these are lucrative side- lines, one wonders why there is still the rush to go away to slug it out in strange and at times hostile environment.

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The ‘hustle’ in Sikaman is not cheap. However, my colleague BABA ABDULAI, who says he has graduated from the college of the streets with a Doctor of Philosophy degree (PhD) in how to make ends meet, is a native who knows how to survive in hard times without going to Namibia.

Unlike Baba Abdulai, doctors in the golden territory are unable to bear the ‘weather,’ and it is quite dis­heartening when we hear that many of them are leaving to the United Kingdom, United States, Saudi Arabia and even South Africa.

To some people, this is quite un­derstandable since they contend that some doctors do not want to stay on and be tempted to make ends meet by running abortion clinics. More so, it would be quite difficult for a doc­tor to work part-time as a city-magi­cian or lotto professor. At least, that is what my pal, Samuel Akwador, of Tema site 14, observes. According to him, the medical profession is a noble one.

The exodus of doctors began way back in 1983. In 1988/89 it became a national headache as they flocked away like cattle- egrets dodging the winter. Today, the doctor-patient ratio is 1:13,000. This means, for every 13,000 people there is only one doctor to do the diagnoses and treat­ment. This is very alarming because health is indispensable to national development. Indeed, when teachers are running away to other countries it is not as serious as when doctors are packing their stethoscopes and medi­cal brains into briefcases and trotting to the airport. We need the doctors here and something radical must be done to keep them here.

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The reasons why our doctors do not want to stay are too obvious to state here. I hear the authorities have taken certain positive steps to make them comfortable. But it appears the doctors want to be VERY comfortable. They want furnished apartments, videos, refrigerators, gas-cookers, portable cars and everything that adds to making a comfortable living.

Somehow, the government can help them in a way, but of course only to the point it can afford to. It is my suggestion that a hire-purchase system be instituted, through which doctors can obtain all the niceties of modern living without first hav­ing to pay the huge down-payments demanded by certain hire-purchase outfits. Immediately deposits are demanded for these items, like the 35per cent demanded by some, the very idea takes off as a non-starter.

In addition, the payment for these items must be spread over relatively long periods so that doctors do not feel the pinch when it comes to the economy of take-home pays.

Doctors must, however, be a little patriotic to bear with the situation. Everyone realises that their condi­tions of service are not too good, and that is why they do not accept postings to the rural areas, for in­stance. But since no one is living too cosy either, we hope that they will also stay and help build the nation. A little sacrifice will do the trick.

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Features

 Old folks and human suffering

• The aged

The aged

Grey hair is an honour from God, says my uncle, Kofi Jogolo, whose moustache the world ad­mires. Unfortunately, his moustache is not grey. However, my dear, uncle who is a petty bourgeoisie is greying at the temples, which according to him is a sign of wisdom, reverence and honour. To me, it is also an indication that he is gradually nearing ‘home’ to render a comprehensive account of his life to his Creator.

Indeed, the principles of account­ability and probity transcend grey hairs and moustache, and wind up in St Peter’s Heaven.

Anyone who is getting close to the age of 60 can rightly claim the grey hair status. But in Sikaman for in­stance, to be a living member of the grey hair fraternity is a privilege and not a right. This is because the aver­age life span of humans today is 49 years, and the average in Third World countries is much lower. Poverty alone can kill you at 27.

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It is also of interest to note that journalists have the lowest average lifespan vis- a-vis other professional groups, according to a proven re­search.

In any case, the human species are better off than insects and animals. A mosquito lives for only six days and decides to call it quits. Most birds live for five years; and when a dog lives up to 10 years, it automatically becomes a liberal democrat. Why? Because it becomes so weak that it can no longer be a leftist watchdog of its master’s home. The poor dog becomes rather liberal to thieves and burglars.

So is it with human beings who clock 65 and above, especially when they have not eaten good for over six decades. According to the Bible, the human limit which has been divinely decreed is three score and 10, that is, 70. This appears discriminatory when we consider that Methuselah for instance lived for 969 years before agreeing to die.

CURSE

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Back to Sikaman, anyone who flies past the age of 65 is considered an old- man (woman) whether he is well- nourished or takes ‘quarter’ on a regular basis.

To many, however, to be called an old person is rather a curse than a blessing. And of course nobody wants to be a pensioner for obvious reasons. So you see workers who are clearly over 70 years claiming to be 50 just to avoid retirement and its associated mon­ey palaver. But somehow, they are justified.

Fact is that, these days, nobody cares for the aged, and so they have to care for themselves. It was the quest to avoid this unfortunate situation that the HelpAge Ghana was formed last year as a voluntary organisation aimed at promoting the well-being of the aged and ageing in Sikaman.

When the second HelpAge Week was launched last weekend, I felt so sad to see on television, old men and wom­en, some of whom could hardly work their rickety heels to help themselves about. Some really had to be assisted to walk.

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HelpAge has come so timely, at a time when no one respects or cares for the aged. In times’ past, old folks were regarded as useful mem­bers of the society, imparting knowl­edge and wisdom to the younger generation, telling Ananse stories to enliven the evenings of little children.

But today, old people are regard­ed as nuisance. They are accused of being talkatives, always complaining of kooko, waist-pains, constipation, diarrhea, chronic catarrh and lack of good diet.

Their physical and mental infirmities associated with senescence, coupled with the high cost of fending for them, makes them unwanted in a rat-race society where man must live by sweet.

Some people really want their aged relatives to die quickly to relieve them of the burden of caring for them. They can’t afford to be feeding them every day like that! So unfortu­nate.

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PROBLEMS

In the developed countries, how­ever, because of problems that go with caring for the elderly in society, homes for the elderly are established in many communities, where the aged can live comfortably to enjoy their last days on earth. They are cared for, nourished and entertained.

In fact, there is a branch of med­icine called GERONTOLOGY which is concerned with the processes of growing old, and there is what we call (GERIATRICS) which is the med­ical care of old people. Scholars are specialise in these fields because their society cares for the welfare of the aged.

HelpAge Ghana is a laudable idea and Sikaman natives must be awak­ened to their responsibility to the elderly. Those who also handle their pension claims must avoid the un­necessary delays. I remember, my old man had to go up and down for months before he was put on his right­ful scale.

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Now, instead of wishing our aged mothers, fathers and grand-parents to die so that we can get enough money to drink beer, let us contribute to Hel­pAge Ghana to get it firmly instituted.

That way when we are lucky to reach the three score and ten mark, we could also benefit from it. No one knows what the future has in store.

Sometime last year, I was privileged to attend a get-together of pensioners of UAC and management staff at the Ambassador Hotel. I am not a pension­er though. It was quite an interesting scene to see old men and women all over chatting animatedly, and remi­niscing their good old days.

I was also quite impressed with how some of them attended to the gin, brandy and beer at the reception.

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In contrast to this, it is so pathetic to see many old people in the capital of Sikaman begging for money to buy kenkey. They look dirty and unkempt carrying aloft their grey hairs. Let us find a means of helping out these elderly folks so that when our turn comes the good old Lord will have mercy upon us.

This article was first written was on Saturday October 6, 1990

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The anxiety of parents

 I had a call from my daughter and addressing me in her rather unusual but affec­tionate way, by my official name as usual, she greeted me and asked about how I was doing and I responded and we exchanged the usual pleasant­ries.

Then her next statement caused my heart to start pounding. She said “Daddy, I am going out on a date.” This is one of the moments every parent becomes filled with anxiety. It is just like when your adult child comes to tell you that “I have met someone I would like to marry”.

I then started asking about when she met him, how long she had known him etc. Then she said “Daddy, I am just pulling a prank on you” and I heaved a sigh of relief. Every parent will tell you that one of their fears is who their chil­dren will marry in future.

Fear of the unknown, is the issue that brings the anxi­ety. Will this man be a good husband to my daughter? Is there a terrible hereditary disease in his family? What are his parents like and would they be caring in-laws to my daughter etc. etc.

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Most parents do not worry too much when their child is a man as opposed to a female child. Furthermore, boys do not bring pregnancy home so if they go out and come home late, parents do not worry too much compared to when Maggie or Agatha or Lucy goes out and comes home late.

Our culture makes it easier for men to opt out of rela­tionships so parents do not worry too much when a male children come to introduce their would-be spouses to them and there is no need to add that spouse here refers to a female, since our culture does not tolerate the insane antisocial behaviour affect­ing some societies including African ones.

Marriage must be between a male and a female, a man and a woman, as God who institut­ed and ordained it. The girls fall in love easily compared to the boys who mostly walk into love. I have not conducted a survey but I strongly believe that females suffer from heartbreaks more than males because of their emotional nature.

Another dimension to this anxiety of parents is the issue of mental problems which in some instances can lead to suicidal tendencies. Mental cases resulting from mental breakdowns abound in our communities and the victims are mostly female.

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A woman I met while walk­ing with a friend was a victim of a mental breakdown. The friend I was walking with, ex­changed pleasantries with the said lady and it was apparent that they knew each other very well.

My friend, after we had parted company with the woman, narrated how her husband was engaged in womanising which compelled the woman to take a revenge on him.

She decided that the best way to also hurt her hus­band’s feelings was to have an affair with the husband’s driver. The affair became known to the husband and she was divorced. The dress she was wearing and her general appearance when we met her on the street showed clearly that all was not well mentally with her.

It was so sad and as a parent I started praying into the future of my children that they would get the right partners, God-fearing people to marry.

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Another anxiety of parents is the character of their chil­dren’s life partners. Would they be kind people? Will they be people with bad tempers? Will they be wife beaters?

Domestic abuse is common in our society and you will be surprised at the calibre of the perpetrators. Some are well educated people, nicely dressed, when you meet them in public places you will never suspect that they are wife beaters.

Some are even pastors and yet they ignore the teachings of the Bible and maltreat their spouses. It is not only men who abuse their spouses but some women are abusers as well.

May God grant us and our children the gift of spirit of discernment so our children will make the right choices for us to also endorse.

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By Laud Kissi-Mensah

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