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
Features
The West African Samba dance

I was in sixth form! Precisely, I was in lower sixth, bubbling with enthusiasm for life. Incidentally, I wasn’t particularly a good dancer but liked watching others dance. When my pal Billy (Butter) did the ‘old man boogie,’ dance, he did so with passion, with contortions and distortions of the human frame. He often needed artificial respiration after a good dance.
Old man Boogie was the dance form adopted at the time. The more you danced like a bony and fragile old man, the more you got applauded. It was fashionable at the time to go to disco with a walking stick to simulate an 80-year-old boogeyman.
On the disco dance floor, everyone was crumbling over and if you didn’t know what was in vogue at the time, you’d be tempted to order an ambulance to cart the entire gang of dancers to the nearest hospital to check their sugar levels. No doubt, you were likely to mistake for old diabetics lapsing into coma on the dance floor.
The Old man Boogie did not last very long. Soon it was replaced with ‘dog’. The dancer was expected to have the men mentality of a dog, and that included baring teeth and ‘pissing’ with one leg raised. When you saw Korkorti on the floor, you thought he was directing traffic with his left leg.
FRENZY
The ‘dog’ gave way to ‘cat’, a frightening choreographic innovation that put the ladies to flight. If dog produced vampires, cat engendered tigers on stage, complete with claws to show for it. The ladies were not brave enough to encounter large human cats in a frenzy, boogeying to funk. They simply fled!
Finally ‘horse’ arrived on the dance floor and you could see Ghanaians galloping with care-less abandon. What saved the situation was the advent of break-dance which shortly superseded the era of freestyling captured in the musical movie “The Music Machine’, starring Gerry Sundquist and Pati Boulaye, a Nigerian performer.
Break-dance brought home an exciting dance variety with equally exciting medical problems. Youngsters began spinning on their heads and broke their necks. They were put in collar and never tried it again.
All the above mentioned dance forms were amply exhibited last Saturday when the Black Stars went on a demolition exercise in Cape Verde.
The 4-0 hammering reflected the level of determination of the Stars to get to Germany in 2006 to showcase samba made in Sikaman.
Soon after the victory, ECG went on ‘strike.’ The nation was plunged into darkness. I heard someone say the power off was deliberate to tone down the celebration, lest people drunk themselves to death. I wondered whether anyone needed electric power to drink himself to death. The lights came on at last.
I quickly drove through parts of Tema. Celebrations were not mass, but pockets of celebrants amply typified the general mood.
CARNIVAL
A group of about eight youngsters apparently charged beyond measure, with akpeteshie running through their veins and arteries, organised a mini-carnival from Site 14 and took to the streets. “God bless our home-land Ghana… they sang the Black Stars cheer song, while hopping like delighted kangaroos. Others were dancing like cats, others like horses.
The beer bars in Tema overflowed with booze. Huge loudspeakers were mounted at Emefa Bar, Site 14, to begin a night of music, booze and chops. Khebab stands smoked freely as sausages and suya were dished out hot, charcoal-grilled.
My wife had gone to Lome, Togo for the weekend with the kids. And what she saw marvelled her. The Togolese national team hitherto known for its disastrous performances suddenly came alive and surprised their own selves. In the final qualifying game, they came back twice to beat Congo in a spectacular display of skills and artistry.
The rain was pouring in sheets in Lome but the celebrants hit the streets in carnival fashion. My little daughter joined them in the rain. When I heard it, I was angry. Why allow the little girl to join in the fanfare?
My wife explained that the situation was so spontaneous that everybody was overwhelmed. Every kid was on the street dancing in the carnival, so why not my little girl? Nobody could stop her. It would have been a sin to stop her. The young and the old were dancing. Old men and women with walking sticks limped to the streets and lock to boogie, the Togolese style.
For me, the exciting aspect of it all is that West African football has come of age. If Nigeria had qualified it would have been a West African affair. Even without Nigeria, it is. Ghana, Togo and Cote d’Ivoire are going to play in Germany in 2006. It is a new beginning for West Africa.
PRESTIGE
Egypt, Senegal, Zaire, Cameroon, Nigeria, and Morocco have participated in the World Cup but did not shine. Other nations must slug it out there, because it is time an African country won the prestigious World Cup.
If African countries have won in the Olympics and the Junior World Cup tournaments, there should be no reason why they cannot make a mark in the seniors. They only have to shed the inferiority complex bothering some of the teams. Africa must shine!
Now, some Nigerians are saying Ghana, Togo and Cote d’Ivoire will be the whip-ping boys at the World Cup. I’ll advise those Nigerians to cry their own cry.
This article was first published on Saturday, October 15, 2005
Features
Legacy is important in life
The Bible which is usually referred to as the good book, says that good name is better than riches according to Proverbs 22:1. Our generation has turned this sound, Godly advice upside down and has put the love for riches first before good name.
Instead of making the right choices, we are all in a mad rush for money, fame and selfish ambitions. Morality is far from our minds and comes nowhere near the top of our list of priorities.
The first thing most people think of, when given a position as a leader, especially in government, is to look for opportunities to make money. It is a worrying trend in our society that should not be encouraged at all. Gradually our society is placing value on riches than integrity.
Time tested values that have characterised activities of churches are even being compromised to the extent that, leadership roles in churches, are being given to people, based on wealth. No wonder, scandals are manifesting in various churches.
Every person has the freedom of choice. You can decide to choose good or choose evil; it is in your power so to choose. However, what we should all realise is that, choices have consequences.
Decision making is all about choices. If you make the right choice as a leader, your name could be forever etched in gold and your descendants, shall forever benefit from your good choices.
Lee Kuan Yew, said that he had the option of being selfish and making himself and his family rich or to seek the welfare of the nation but he chose the latter because that was the right thing to do.
Today, his name has been etched in gold in Singapore forever. His descendants are revered simply because of what their father and grandfather and great grandfather, did for the nation of Singapore. He left a legacy, a legacy of selflessness, a legacy of patriotism, a legacy of honesty and integrity and finally a legacy of leadership.
I listened to a story about Peduase Lodge. Apparently, it was a gift to Dr Kwame Nkrumah out of love and appreciation by an Akuapim woman, for him to build his private residence. Dr Nkrumah not being selfish but full of patriotism, decided to use it as official residence like Camp David in the US.
He is widely acknowledged also as incorruptible and this has endeared him to the hearts of many Ghanaians although there were some governance issues like the PDA, which somehow dented his otherwise excellent legacy.
Whenever his name is mentioned, his legacy is remembered and wonderful things are said about him. Such legacies, buy favour for his descendants, which in the case of Dr Nkrumah, led to people voting for his daughter to be elected as Member of Parliament for the 5th Parliament under the 4th Republic.
Recently, the passing of a prominent chief in the Asante Region, was announced. This chief has been acknowledged as one of the chiefs in the country, who have banned Galamsey in their area of jurisdiction.
Given the national outcry against illegal mining as a result of the devastating consequences to our environment and related health problems, this fantastic legacy, will go a long way to create favour for his children wherever they find themselves in this country.
Compared this to the son of a notorious armed robber seeking favour for say admission to an SHS. I guarantee you, the moment you mention your name and confirm that you are the son of Ataa…, the legacy of your father will immediately start working against you.
NB: ‘CHANGE KOTOKA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT TO KOFI BAAKO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT’
By Laud Kissi-Mensah