Saturday 17 September 2011

From my Archives

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

King of Kings and Other Kings

National and international media appeared to have missed the fact that although he came here as a plain commoner, the US President departed Ghana a royal: The Oguaa Traditional Council of Cape Coast conferred on him the title of Nana Okokodurufo Obueakwan Kofi Obama while his wife also got the queenly title of Obaahemaa Efua Nyamekye. The council will invite the newly minted royal couple to come down to Cape Coast for their investiture sometime soon.

However, the formal coronation (or re-coronation) of another foreign leader, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi of Libya, as the King of Kings of Africa in Ghana this week was postponed. The theme of the conference was to be “the Role of the Traditional Ruler in the Integration of Africa”.

The President of the National House of Chiefs, Pugansoa Naa Professor John S.K. Nabila explained to the National House of Chiefs that the honorary title of "King of Kings of Africa" given to the Libyan leader Colonel Muammar Gaddafi was in appreciation to his efforts at bringing traditional rulers together to fulfill the continental union objective. He said in Kumasi on Tuesday, two days after the postponement, that the conference will now take place in Accra on August 24 this year.

Regarding the cancellation of the conference, the Ghanaian Times reported a “misunderstanding between the organizers and the government over the purpose of the conference”. The National House of Chiefs, the official hosts of the conference said only that the cancellation was due to a “technical hitch”.

The Times reported further that “a source at the Libyan Embassy in Accra said [that] Col. Gaddafi, Chairman of the African Union, halted the trip to the country because Ghana was not entirely happy about his mission in the country. The source, however, added that the meeting would now come off in September without giving further details”. A Deputy Minister of Information, Samuel Okudzeto Ablakwa, told the Times that “the government received information from the Libyan government that Col. Gaddafi could not make the trip because he was attending to some exigencies”.

In August last year, a meeting of more than 200 African kings and traditional rulers bestowed the title "king of kings" on the Libyan leader. According to a BBC report, “the rulers, wearing gold crowns, sequined capes and colourful robes met in the Libyan town of Benghazi in what was billed as a first of its kind. Col Gaddafi urged the royals to join his campaign for African unity”.
The traditional rulers were reported to have come from “countries such as Mozambique, South Africa, Ivory Coast, and the DR Congo”, according to the report. The King of Kings told the assembled royals that he wanted “an African military to defend Africa, we want a single African currency, we want one African passport to travel within Africa”.

It is believed that Mr. Gaddafi’s strategy is to engage traditional rulers, who wield enormous influence in many African countries, to prevail upon their governments to sign up to his campaign for a unified African state. A Tanzanian Chief, Sheikh Abdilmajid, said at the time that "the people believe in the chiefs and kings more than they believe in their governments”.

Whether the strategy will work depends largely on how other African governments perceive the overall Gaddafi Pan-African project. Since the transformation of the Organisation of African Unity into the African Union, the Libyan leader has assumed leadership of the “instantist” faction in the Union that advocates for an immediate institution of a continental African government. Some analysts say that the movement is not gaining ground because it is identified too closely with the person of the Libyan leader. Becoming King of Kings will not improve the mood of his opponents.

In January Uganda stopped a meeting similar to the one that was to have been held in Ghana on the grounds that it was going to violate the country’s constitution which bans traditional rulers from indulging in politics. In Uganda, hundreds of traditional rulers from several African countries were expected to converge in Kampala for a forum of traditional rulers where a secretary-general was to be elected for the “Eastern Zone”.

A senior official of the Ugandan Foreign Ministry, James Mugume issued a statement at the time saying that having traditional rulers discuss political issues without a mandate from their governments could lead to instability. The cancellation of the Ghana meeting a few days before the event has led to speculation that the government needed time to study the issue.

It is reported that there is a general misgiving in Africa about the "King of Kings" title which was to be bestowed on Col. Gaddafi, and some commentators have wondered why a re-coronation was necessary. In addition to the original coronation in Benghazi last year, Col. Gaddafi was further crowned at another ceremony in Addis Ababa on February 1 during the AU meeting at which he was elected Chairman of the organisation.

Obviously, the Libyan leader takes the King of Kings business rather seriously because convening these kingly meetings must be a bit of a drain on the exchequer of the oil rich country. In a widely reported incident, Col. Gaddafi was said to have stormed out of an Arab meeting in Qatar last March after informing the gathering that he was the King of Kings of Africa. “I am an international leader, the dean of the Arab rulers, the king of kings of Africa and the imam (leader) of Muslims, and my international status does not allow me to descend to a lower level”.

The Libyan leader’s royalist pretensions probably foreshadows a clamour by traditional rulers for a formal places within the structures of the African Union. During the 10th anniversary of his enstoolment, The Asantehene, Otumfuo Osei Tutu II has called on the African Union (AU) to consider giving traditional authorities in Africa a seat in their deliberations. He said apart from instigating debates at different forums on the need to place African traditions and culture in the midst of the globalization process, a greater purpose will be served if traditional leaders are allowed to be part of the AU. A senior chief of the Soli people of Lusaka recently made the same case to journalists at Lusaka Airport on his way to attend a Southern Africa Development Community (SADC) meeting. "Good governance cannot be good governance without participation of traditional rulers,” he said.

There is a case for debating the merits of these suggestions but whether Col Gaddafi who came to power through a military coup 40 years ago should be the mouthpiece of Africa’s traditional rulers is a debatable point too. Only time will tell whether the postponement of the Accra conference has been a missed opportunity or saved Ghana from embarrassment.

Obama Puts African Strongman Under Fire

President Obama’s speech is like the elephant that was visited by six blind men, except that this time instead of six visually impaired men reporting their sensation of the elephant it is millions of people interpreting and projecting their perceptions of what the US President said at the Accra Conference Centre last Saturday. Everyone takes the part they love or hate, or even love to hate and amplifies it to their hearts content. Some have called it tough love, in the manner of the biblical prescription not to spare the rod and spoil the child. Others say he spoke down to Africans like a father scolding a child. I would rather endorse the comment passed by a perceptive friend: he told Africans what all right-thinking Africans already knew.
There is a sense in which Mr. Obama’s speech was a self-revelation to the self, like seeing yourself for the first time in a mirror after a haircut. It takes more than a second to realise that this is just you as others see you. For the right-thinking African, the themes of the speech may have been rehashed in the mind a million times, and many have canvassed them at meetings, forums, articles, lectures, debates and conversation. But after that what?
That is where Obama comes in: it is not just the rhetoric, although that helps. The cadences and intimate stops; the inner rhymes of the spoken convictions all help to convey the message in the most appropriate way. The man has a way speaking that makes the old sound new and exciting.
Take this for example: Africa doesn’t need strongmen, it needs strong institutions. Yes, we know that and have said that and preached that. But maybe because we have said it for so long using too many words, this simple assertion said so simply bore a new power that can be deployed as a weapon. I can dance all day to the sound of that simple sentence. Africa does not need strongmen, it needs strong institutions.
We have known for so long that the Africa big-man syndrome is the obstacle to development in this continent. The desire for some leaders, especially those who come to power through force of arms or undermine their constitutions, to stay in power for ever has been recognised as the source of tension, violence, corruption, kleptomania and therefore of underdevelopment and poverty in Africa.
Perhaps it is necessary here to explain the Africa big-man or strongman syndrome as a specific reference to a type of perverted leadership that monopolises power by destroying all dissent, taking their countries’ money to be their own, commandeering women as if they were chattel, dictating to parliament, if there is one, placing restrictions on the media and above all controlling the judiciary and the security apparatus of the state. Mr. Obama was not talking about “strong men”, who as some have suggested, are needed to run strong institutions.
The African strongman does not allow for the development of institutions but instead makes himself the only institution that matters in the country. The African strongman is above every institution, including the constitution, and believes in his heart with former French President Charles De Gaulle that “L’etat ce moi” – I am the state.
Africa’s founding fathers were the original strongmen. Kwame Nkrumah, Azikewe, Awolowo, Kenyatta, Kaunda and the long list of independence leaders, in the immortal words of Shakespeare, “bestrode the world like Colossus “; begetters of the constitution; giver of life… in Ghana Nkrumah was “Civitatis Ghanensis Conditor”, - Founder of the Ghana nation. They differed in ideology and outlook but all believed in their status as the vehicles for their nations’ manifest destiny.
It made sense in the 150s and 60s. Leadership was characterised by a strong sense of Weberian charisma in which the leader had to show enormous amounts of evidential dedication and almost godlike devotion to his person and every person he liked and every project he endorsed. They were not alone; the world was like that. The United Kingdom had Winston Churchill chomping on a fat cigar; France had De Gaulle frowning on everyone from on high; the US had Kennedy who was simply a phenomenon. In their places we have Gordon Brown, Nicholas Sarkozy and Barak Obama; can you imagine anyone of them wearing a high military kepi, or chewing on a Churchillian cigar. Not likely.
Today, we would laugh at the Africa big man and his inbuilt sense of insecurity if this issue was not so serious. I once arrived at an African capital just as the presidential plane was about to land. We were shooed to one side and had to sit in the heat while Son Excellence disembarked. At the foot of the plane’s steps were lined up all the ministers, deputy ministers, managing directors, ambassadors and their deputies – and all of them formed a never-ending conga-line that snaked the entire length of a curvilinear red carpet.
They were being introduced to the President. In other words, the Strongman who had been away a few days was being introduced to the ministers that he had appointed. He was not being welcomed back by the vice president and a few officials but everyone had to leave their offices to be on that tarmac to be introduced to the President. It was explained that failure to turn up would count as extreme disloyalty. He wanted to be reassured that no-one had thought of staging a coup in his absence.
These strongmen are a serious drain on their nations’ finances because the entire state security apparatus is organized around protecting them, their families and cronies. Furthermore, because they cannot trust their own people they feel the need to hide their stolen wealth abroad. A few days ago, a court in Switzerland ruled that money banked in that country by the late Congolese dictator, Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, should be returned to his family. Mobutu, who later named himself, Mobutu Sese Seko Nkuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga (all-conquering warrior who goes from triumph to triumph) was reckoned by Transparency International to be third most corrupt leader in world history.
The strongman syndrome is self-perpetuating. The latest strongman wheeze is the father-and-son regime perfected by the oxymoronic republican dynasty in the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea, popularly known as North Korea. The late Laurent Kabila of the DR Congo was replaced by his son Joseph Kabila; the late Gnassingbe Eyadema of Togo (toujour au pouvoir!) has been replaced by his son Faure Gnassingbe. The Gabonese Democratic Party founded by the late Omar Bongo has just announced that Ali Ben Bongo would be the candidate of his father’s party at the coming presidential election. This means he will be the next president of Gabon. Obviously, where strongmen rule the sons also rise!
As President Obama said, the African strongman inhibits the growth of institutions and is therefore bad news for the continent. Unfortunately, there is no shortage of them, and the earlier thinking that a new breed of leaders would move away from the authoritarian ways of their predecessors has proved way of the mark. The African people need to think seriously about this phenomenon as some leaders are derailing the democratic train that appeared to have been set on course since the beginning of the 1990s throughout the continent.

//Ends

Friday, July 17, 2009

African Strongman under Fire

President Obama’s speech is like the elephant that was visited by six blind men, except that this time instead of six visually impaired men reporting their sensation of the elephant it is millions of people interpreting and projecting their perceptions of what the US President said at the Accra Conference Centre last Saturday. Everyone takes the part they love or hate, or even love to hate and amplifies it to their hearts content. Some have called it tough love, in the manner of the biblical prescription not to spare the rod and spoil the child. Others say he spoke down to Africans like a father scolding a child. I would rather endorse the comment passed by a perceptive friend: he told Africans what all right-thinking Africans already knew.
There is a sense in which Mr. Obama’s speech was a self-revelation to the self, like seeing yourself for the first time in a mirror after a haircut. It takes more than a second to realise that this is just you as others see you. For the right-thinking African, the themes of the speech may have been rehashed in the mind a million times, and many have canvassed them at meetings, forums, articles, lectures, debates and conversation. But after that what?
That is where Obama comes in: it is not just the rhetoric, although that helps. The cadences and intimate stops; the inner rhymes of the spoken convictions all help to convey the message in the most appropriate way. The man has a way speaking that makes the old sound new and exciting.
Take this for example: Africa doesn’t need strongmen, it needs strong institutions. Yes, we know that and have said that and preached that. But maybe because we have said it for so long using too many words, this simple assertion said so simply bore a new power that can be deployed as a weapon. I can dance all day to the sound of that simple sentence. Africa does not need strongmen, it needs strong institutions.
We have known for so long that the Africa big-man syndrome is the obstacle to development in this continent. The desire for some leaders, especially those who come to power through force of arms or undermine their constitutions, to stay in power for ever has been recognised as the source of tension, violence, corruption, kleptomania and therefore of underdevelopment and poverty in Africa.
Perhaps it is necessary here to explain the Africa big-man or strongman syndrome as a specific reference to a type of perverted leadership that monopolises power by destroying all dissent, taking their countries’ money to be their own, commandeering women as if they were chattel, dictating to parliament, if there is one, placing restrictions on the media and above all controlling the judiciary and the security apparatus of the state. Mr. Obama was not talking about “strong men”, who as some have suggested, are needed to run strong institutions.
The African strongman does not allow for the development of institutions but instead makes himself the only institution that matters in the country. The African strongman is above every institution, including the constitution, and believes in his heart with former French President Charles De Gaulle that “L’etat ce moi” – I am the state.
Africa’s founding fathers were the original strongmen. Kwame Nkrumah, Azikewe, Awolowo, Kenyatta, Kaunda and the long list of independence leaders, in the immortal words of Shakespeare, “bestrode the world like Colossus “; begetters of the constitution; giver of life… in Ghana Nkrumah was “Civitatis Ghanensis Conditor”, - Founder of the Ghana nation. They differed in ideology and outlook but all believed in their status as the vehicles for their nations’ manifest destiny.
It made sense in the 150s and 60s. Leadership was characterised by a strong sense of Weberian charisma in which the leader had to show enormous amounts of evidential dedication and almost godlike devotion to his person and every person he liked and every project he endorsed. They were not alone; the world was like that. The United Kingdom had Winston Churchill chomping on a fat cigar; France had De Gaulle frowning on everyone from on high; the US had Kennedy who was simply a phenomenon. In their places we have Gordon Brown, Nicholas Sarkozy and Barak Obama; can you imagine anyone of them wearing a high military kepi, or chewing on a Churchillian cigar. Not likely.
Today, we would laugh at the Africa big man and his inbuilt sense of insecurity if this issue was not so serious. I once arrived at an African capital just as the presidential plane was about to land. We were shooed to one side and had to sit in the heat while Son Excellence disembarked. At the foot of the plane’s steps were lined up all the ministers, deputy ministers, managing directors, ambassadors and their deputies – and all of them formed a never-ending conga-line that snaked the entire length of a curvilinear red carpet.
They were being introduced to the President. In other words, the Strongman who had been away a few days was being introduced to the ministers that he had appointed. He was not being welcomed back by the vice president and a few officials but everyone had to leave their offices to be on that tarmac to be introduced to the President. It was explained that failure to turn up would count as extreme disloyalty. He wanted to be reassured that no-one had thought of staging a coup in his absence.
These strongmen are a serious drain on their nations’ finances because the entire state security apparatus is organized around protecting them, their families and cronies. Furthermore, because they cannot trust their own people they feel the need to hide their stolen wealth abroad. A few days ago, a court in Switzerland ruled that money banked in that country by the late Congolese dictator, Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, should be returned to his family. Mobutu, who later named himself, Mobutu Sese Seko Nkuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga (all-conquering warrior who goes from triumph to triumph) was reckoned by Transparency International to be third most corrupt leader in world history.
The strongman syndrome is self-perpetuating. The latest strongman wheeze is the father-and-son regime perfected by the oxymoronic republican dynasty in the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea, popularly known as North Korea. The late Laurent Kabila of the DR Congo was replaced by his son Joseph Kabila; the late Gnassingbe Eyadema of Togo (toujour au pouvoir!) has been replaced by his son Faure Gnassingbe. The Gabonese Democratic Party founded by the late Omar Bongo has just announced that Ali Ben Bongo would be the candidate of his father’s party at the coming presidential election. This means he will be the next president of Gabon. Obviously, where strongmen rule the sons also rise!
As President Obama said, the African strongman inhibits the growth of institutions and is therefore bad news for the continent. Unfortunately, there is no shortage of them, and the earlier thinking that a new breed of leaders would move away from the authoritarian ways of their predecessors has proved way of the mark. The African people need to think seriously about this phenomenon as some leaders are derailing the democratic train that appeared to have been set on course since the beginning of the 1990s throughout the continent.

//Ends

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Michael Jackson Finally Makes Sense

This article has not gone according to script. It was meant to be about the incredible goings on in Honduras where the President was removed at dawn in his pyjamas and taken to nearby Costa Rica. His crime was that like President Tandja of Niger and several other African leaders, he wanted to force his way to another presidential term through dubious constitutional means.
I started to write at about the same time that the Michael Jackson Memorial Service was starting in Los Angeles. I thought it would be the usual celebrity sop to a departed entertainer, full of flashbacks and insincere I Love you whispers blown to a worldwide audience that would later become the bestselling DVD. But it started with a tribute read on behalf of Nelson Mandela, the closest we have to a living saint on earth.
This was the day President Barack Obama met with Prime Minister Putin who is former and perhaps future President of Russia. The previous day the President of the US had met the President of Russia who will become Prime Minister or Chief Justice in the future, in the curious revolving door Putin-Medvedev double governance act.
I did not pay much heed to that TV because I knew the Michael Jackson story inside out. He burst on the scene as a musical child prodigy when I was a young adult; I knew the lyrics and the moves. We imitated him and slid on carpeted and concrete floors; we swayed and gyrated to tunes loud or in our heads. There was Moonwalk, Thriller and Bad. But beyond that, what?
Then a choir came on stage and sang a very beautiful song, the kind that lifts Black American choral performances straight to heaven. And then the Casket appeared borne by his brothers each wearing one white glove. It was a bit theatrical but why not, this is showbiz after all.
So I ploughed on with Mr Zelaya of Honduras and his antics. He tried last Sunday to go back to his country, but of course, he must have known there was no way the military that removed him in his pyjamas would let him in wearing a suit. I thought for moment how Mr. Tandja of Niger would look in Pyjamas.
But by now what was happening on stage in LA was too powerful to ignore, because it turns out that I, like millions of people who thought we knew Michael Jackson, did not know him at all. We heard the music and saw the dancing moves but we did not know the wellspring of the melody and the inspiration behind the choreography.
Pastor Lucious Smith who described himself as a friend of the Jackson family opened the proceedings with such simple dignity that one had to take notice; easier to ignore would be a loud and raucous introit in the mould of notice-me me Hollywood style. Now on stage we have Queen Latifah reading a poem by Maya Angelou written specially for this occasion:
"We Had Him"*:
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing,
now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind….
…We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo,
beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh,
in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him,
and we are the world

Then the Rev. Al Sharpton came to the mike. I had not seen any image of him for years so I was shocked by what I saw. Gone is the big afro of twenty years ago and with it the almost baby-tubby fat in his middle and face. His hair is thin but he is not looking bad, only older like all the rest of us. What he said matters because he has known MJ for decades and known that he deliberately set out to break barriers, especially between the races. This matters in America more than anywhere else. But Michael also broke the barriers between people from “Japan to Ghana to France”.
But listen to this because it makes sense. According to the Rev. Sharpton, the line that runs from Michael Jackson to Barack Obama is a straight and logical one and goes like this: From a cute kid to the present moment Michael Jackson refused to give up but lived the dream of uniting people with his music. He made it comfortable for people to see Black people on TV and on magazine covers so that fifty years later they were able to vote for a “person of colour”. There is a lot in that.
Then there were basketball legends Kobie Bryant and Magic Johnson who said that it was Michael Jackson that opened the doors for black sportsmen and women, entertainers and public personalities. I thought to myself: hang on. Before MJ we had Mohammed Ali, James Brown, Jack Johnson, hundreds of jazz and blues musical legends and athletes. Surely they opened the doors for MJ.
But I knew what Kobie and Magic were saying. Previous African American sports and entertainment legends were seen as BLACK this and that but Michael Jackson broke the colour bar and united the races in their enjoyment of himself and his music. I know you cannot, indeed, are not expected to make sense of the silly nose job and the extreme skin bleaching, but where James Brown sang Say it Loud, I am Black and Proud, MJ said it did not matter if you were black or white.
Some may denounce Black American current leaders for being all bourgeois and comfortable with integration (it ain’t matter if you are black and white), but that is where we are now. The afro haired and dashiski angst of a previous generation has given way to besuited middle class pursuits of fat mortgages and SUVs. That is the way it is in practice, poetry and song. And if that is the case then we failed to see twenty years ago that Michael Jackson was not only the King of Pop but the Prophet of our time. The US Congress will honour MJ with Resolution 600 which according to Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee.
But when Michael Jackson’s daughter Paris took the mike and said only two tearful sentences and then everything made sense to me, as it must have for millions of people watching. The message is that life is far more complex than simple black or white… That when MJ went home, he was met by real human beings for whom his I-love you made personal sense…
That MJ was in the Guinness Book of Records for having given more to charity than any other entertainer in history. I bet you didn’t know that!
*This is only a section of the poem “We Had Him”, written by Maya Angelou, performed by Queen Latifah.
//Ends

ASK WHAT WE CAN GIVE MR. OBAMA

Expectations had hit stratospheric levels as the crowd gathered for the inauguration of the President that January in Washington DC. As the bitter winter winds whipped in from the Potomac, people from all walks of life huddled together to catch a glimpse of the young president and his charming wife and sweet little children. It was all rather quaintly beautiful, but the weight of the world rested on the shoulders of the young president and he was aware of it.
That was 48 years ago, when President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the first Catholic was inaugurated the youngest president of the United States. In his inaugural speech, Mr. Kennedy said to the admiring but expectant world: ASK NOT WHAT AMERICA CAN DO FOR YOU, ASK WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR AMERICA. The world arrived at a Kennedy-esque moment in January this year when Obama was sworn in as the second youngest President of the United States.
Mr. Obama’s race was to Mr. Kennedy’s catholic faith, an indication of how far the US electorate had moved away from the racism, narrow-mindedness and xenophobia of the past. Like Kennedy, Obama also arrived at the White House with a young family, a charismatic and brainy wife, a bagful of reform ideas, and slogan that caught the expectant mood of the international public. We are all believers: YES, HE CAN.
In Africa the coming of Obama represented a moment of triumph for two reasons: despite the largesse of the Bush administration towards the continent, especially with money for healthcare, Africa had never warmed to the younger Mr. Bush. Our leaders trooped to Washington to get the usual seal of approval and Mr. Bush and Dr. Condoleeza Rice, his Secretary of State, among other high-level officials visited Ghana but that was for officialdom. The public imagination was not ignited. So, let us agree to love Obama because he is not Mr. Bush.
The second reason, obviously is that Obama is one of us, a son of the soil. Never mind that he has not stepped much on the soil, but he belongs as legitimately as any African everywhere. That is the way it is with the tribe; that is how the elders designed OUR system. If you belong, you cannot be a stranger, so when this son of the soil was elected, we danced all night and some nights more. He also danced throughout the night of his inauguration. He has rhythm, ergo, he is one of our own.
The coming of Mr. and Mrs Obama has excited this country like nothing else bar qualifying for another football World Cup, and as with choosing the players for the Black Stars, everyone has interesting ideas, for why he is coming, what he is bringing and what Michelle will wear. Some say he is coming because we have democracy, others say it is the new oil, still some worrying themselves sleepless put it down to the US wanting to take us into its conflicts by siting the African Command or AFRICOM HQ in Ghana.
I believe that we need to do a Kennedy here and ask not what Obama is bringing to us but what we can give to Obama. In the traditions of our people, we welcome our guests not by asking what they are bringing but we prepare what we will give to the visitor. Let him worry about what he will bring.
So Mr. and Mrs Obama will arrive; our elders will sit down with them and welcome them. Then our elders will tell them that here it is peaceful but we are all ears to listen to the story from the road. They will speak; our elders will listen. Then our elders will speak, hopefully on our behalf. This is the way it is done. And it is at this point that we must give the Obamas what we have for them.
In my view, the best gift Ghana can give to the US President is to tell him the truth. We are lucky that this President has African blood coursing through his veins. He is an American President who knew before receiving official briefing that Africa is not a country but a continent, so we can speak to him truthfully; America may be a superpower but our blood-bond should privilege us to speak truth to power.
And what shall we say that will be the truth? That we may be cash poor but we are resource rich and that should enable us to cash in on dignity and respect. That we should be seen as partners in the global marketplace of money, things and people. That we need trade not aid, and that the old paternalism that saw the US on the side of any dictator raising the spectre of communism should not be replaced with bolstering new dictators hiding behind the Wall of the willing.
We should say that putting an American force HQ in Ghana is not a good idea because willy-nilly we will be drawn into battles not of our making. We have remained a peaceful nation, despite the odds, because we have contained our squabbles within the tribe. God knows we have a hard time of it but in the evening we sit under the tree and listen to stories (actually, if we are honest, we sit in front of the telly or beside the radio and hear long political tirades).
That is part of the bargain. We have opted for democracy. That means a lot of political talk and disputes. We argue about everything including their visit. We need encouragement on that front, but we do it best when we have to rely on our own ingenuity. Mr. Obama is the third American President to visit Ghana, following in the wake of Mr. Clinton and Mr. Bush, and each in his own bolstered our democracy and basked in its performance. Hand go, hand come, is the name of the game.
We have many things to give in addition to the truth, but those will be hiding behind the stool, and will be brought out one by one. It will be after that then we will thank our visitor for the gifts from his land.

Friday 2 September 2011


The Book Alor Left Behind

Sikaman Palava

Published by New Times Corporation

Edited by Dr. Doris Dartey

Reviewer: Kwasi Gyan-Apenteng

I met Alor as everyone called him, only twice; in that sense I did not know him at all, not as perhaps most of you did because neither meeting lasted more than a few minutes, but I am happy I met him those brief moments when I did and for the reasons that I did. But now I know him very well through this book, and I am richer for it.

The first time I met Alor I had gone to Times Corporation to express my condolences after the death of Mr. Willie Donkor, aka Bafour, whose column had been compulsory reading for me for decades. Indeed, that moment had reminded me that I made a similar journey to the same corporation more than 30 years before to meet the man Bafour whose column held his readers spellbound. Expressions like “Holy Village” and had entered everyday language and his antics with his myriad of fascinating characters had made the Spectator a pleasant read.

Even when I was no longer living in Ghana I tried to get the Spectator whenever I could to read Bafour. Baafour disappeared for some time, or perhaps I lost track, but the column returned some time in the early 2000s and I was happy to put the Spectator back at the top of my weekend reading. This is why I felt a personal loss at the death of the writer and felt compelled to go and pay my respects to his colleagues. The man I went to see was my old friend Enimil Ashong who took me to see Mr. Merari Alomele, who had just taken over from Enimil at the Spectator.

With Bafour gone, I began to take a keener interest in other columns and stories in the Spectator and that is how and why I became very aware of the quality of writing in a new story in the Super Story series about a wealthy womanising contractor and his dealings with the criminal underworld. It was a riveting story and was more than a worthy successor to Bafour, in my estimation. I wondered who its author was because the name read Elemola Irariem. Then I looked again and realised that the name was a scrambling of the name Merari Alomele. That was when I paid my next visit, but this time I went straight to him and told him mischievously that I had a message for Mr. Elemola Irariem, the writer of Super Story. We both burst out laughing.

It was then that I suggested to him to compile his stories and articles into a book. He smiled and told me he admired my writing, etc. So, we parted company having just formed a mutual accolade club!  

Here is the book. Sadly, it has been published in circumstances that neither he nor I or any one of here would have wished. We would trade a million books for the man’s life, but that is now out of our hands. However, we now have the book and it makes the pain that little bit more bearable because Alor lives through these pages.

As I said at the beginning, I have got to know the man posthumously through this book which I received last Friday. I now wish I had known him better because he was a very fine writer and produced some of the very best writing in our newspapers in the last decade and half. There was to have been another contact with Alor. I called him many times in my head, as one does, but for some strange reason I did not really make that call, believing of course, that there was time in the future. I meant to call him and invite him to join the Ghana Association of Writers, an invitation I have extended to other writers whose works are published in the newspapers or blogged on the internet.

Alor’s work is best read as a book. The pieces in the Spectator are written as good stand-alones or as part of a series but they form an organic whole and present a coherent viewpoint of Mr. Alomele’s world and concerns. The first thing that strikes you is the sheer breadth of the subjects he covered routinely in his articles. I say routinely because in every article he could make several digressions to take the reader on a detour of knowledge and interests, which while appearing to be random, were seriously constructed as part of a whole.

Let me give you an example, Christmas is Coming (page 37) which ostensibly recollects his childhood enjoyment of Christmas. It starts like this:

My mum used to tell me about Christmas as it was celebrated in the good old days. The gramophone had to be wound by manpower before it gave off sweet music to which young girls in miniskirts, the not too young in midi-skirts and the over-40s in maxi danced. The young men were either in pimpinis or bell-bottom trousers. The popular haircut was termed ‘Show Your Back’. The young folks actually prepared for great events like Christmas and learnt the dance forms of the 1950s and 60s like waltz, fox-trot, hot fox-trot and cha-cha-cha.



Those were the days you heard of greats like Satchmo, Lord Kitchner, Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett and Jimmy Hendrix who took the guitar to heights no one has ever reached. In fact, it was Hendrix who popularised the guitar with such skill that when he released the likes of ‘Hey Joe’ and ‘Electric Ladyland’, his phenomenon spread across the United States and infected Europe. He often burnt all his instruments after performances and this became his trademark. At 25, he died of an overdose of barbiturates, a sleep-inducing drug.

 So, this is the start of a childhood recollection of Christmas but in just the opening paragraphs we have been treated to a juicy and knowledgeable trip into the music and counterculture of the middle to late 20th century.

 It gets better. Read this:

In those days, it was music that kept the world from falling apart. Cold war politics characterised the global political landscape of those times when the Kennedys and the Nikita Kruschev’s gambled with the lives of their countrymen.



The world was just sighing over a brutal second world war of the mid-to-Iate 1940s. Japan was barely rising from the ashes of the holocaust and the image of Adolf Hitler was imprinted on every Jewish mind. He had caused the extermination of an estimated six million Jews, and his chief hatchet-man, Adolf Eichmann, had become a target of Zionist forces. Adolf was chewing the cud in Argentina when the Israelis came after him. He was working in a bicycle factory. The Israelis mapped out his daily routine, captured, drugged and dressed him in the gear of a pilot, passing him off as a drunken pilot. When he woke up, he found himself in Israel. He was tried

and executed. The aggrieved world breathed easily now!



In the course of that one article, we learnt about the Cold War, the Second World War and Hitler’s attempt to exterminate all Jews, and how Hitler’s aide Adolf Eichmann was arrested in Argentina.

Further in the same article we are informed about the role of the likes of Faizal Helwani and Pat Thomas in the revived production of highlife in the 1970s, reggae music and wee smoking... and more.

The beauty of it is that he wrote in an unselfconscious way; his many detours and side trips were not meant to show off his vast store of knowledge and information but merely to help the reader as he or she travelled on the road laid out by Alor…. In fact, some of his best writing is about taking the piss about himself.

One of the funniest stories in the book is about his unusual first name, which he tells us is actually in the Bible at Genesis 46:11. Once, at a hospital, the nurse had so much trouble with the name that the best she managed was Mary Lomotey instead of Merari Alomele. Perhaps that was better than when he was called Ferrari Alomeli! At another hospital. Let us read the episodes in full at page 2:


A name under siege

Since the day I was baptised I have had trouble with my Christian (first) name. It has since then caused so much sensation, anxiety, worry, anger, spelling mistakes and nearly a third world war in those who hear or read it. I suspect it has caused some people to vomit. For one thing, people worry why a more “decent” name like Joseph or George should not have been accorded me, instead of the “unwholesome” Merari. And for others, they wonder, who was the fellow who chose that name for me? “Or did you carry the name yourself?” they’d ask.

No one has ever, at first instance, pronounced my name without enquiring from me whether that is the correct pronunciation. People think they need special training in phonetics to be qualified to merely mention my name. I guess my daddy who gave me this name occasionally also has trouble calling it. Perhaps to save him the burden, he calls me by the day on which I was born. I went to a clinic sometime back and a nurse came to mention names so that we could form a queue before seeing the doctor. She hesitated so much over my name. For a good three minutes, she tried and failed; she frowned, coughed, fidgeted and nearly passed wind before she managed to croak:

“Mary Lomotey.” What! I exclaimed to myself. I stood looking at her. No one responded.

She looked at the name again “Miriam Lomotey!” she barked this time.

“Madam, look at the name properly,” I said rather angrily. I wasn’t called Mary or Miriam, and to top it, I wasn’t a girl. As for the Lomotey, I didn’t know how she invented it.

“Is this your card?” she showed me the card. “Yes.”

“Get it!” she tucked it into my hand. She breathed easily. She had nearly developed instant hypertension and momentary diabetes. It was my turn to enter the consulting room. The doctor looked at the card.

“Is this your name?” he enquired.

“Yes, doctor.”

“How do you pronounce it?” he asked and I did just that.

“So do you feel happy with such a name?” he asked and I smiled.

“Who gave you that name?”

“My father.”

He asked where that daddy got that name from.

“It’s a biblical name. Genesis 46:11,” I said, and he wrote the verse down.

“I hope you haven’t brought a strange disease since your name is so strange.

“Oh no. It’s just headache and cold.”

“Next time bring a strange disease. It will befit your name,” he said jocularly, and wrote my treatment on my card with an extremely bad handwriting that I wondered if he could read it himself.

I was to receive an injection. My turn came and when the nurse was about to call my name, she squirmed, looked at it as if she were examining a germ under a microscope. Before she voiced it out, she was sweating profusely. Obviously the name had made her very tired. . .

“Manila Lamley,” she cried.

I wasn’t shocked a bit because no one has ever called my two names correctly on first trial. But I couldn’t be the capital of the Philippines and have no relations whatever with the Lamleys of

Accra.

“Open your eyes properly,” I said. “You nurses are fond of mispronouncing simple names.” Obviously, my tone had a suggestion of anger and she got angry too.

“Look,” she said, “we are busy here. If you’re from Kenya or Tanzania, you can’t come here and instruct us.”

“I am a Ghanaian,” I protested.

“You can’t be a Ghanaian,” she emphasized in an attempt to withdraw my citizenship, which would in effect disenfranchise me so that I wouldn’t be able to vote in the district level elections. She continued: “lf you want to be a Ghanaian, go and naturalize the proper way and take a better name too, and stop worrying us with Swahili and South African names. You’re too tall to be a Ghanaian, anyway.”

I smiled and went inside. The injection was very painful that day and I guess it was punishment for not having a good name. I went to collect drugs from the dispensary. A Hausa man was the chairman. He looked at the name and nearly collapsed when he ventured mentioning it. “Ferari Alomeli,” he fumbled out terribly. I immediately wondered whether he was suffering from river blindness.

“Haven’t you gone for treatment?” I asked him smiling.

“What treatment!” he retorted, rather perplexed.
 
“For river-blindness.”

 “What are you talking about?” he asked quite angrily. A patient should not be asking such questions.

 “You’re seeing Merari and you’re calling it Ferari. Ferari is a name of a car, so I thought you were a victim of river-blindness.”

“You’re a fool to tell me that,” he yelled at me.

“Forget it brother, forget it,” I cooled him down. He looked back at the name a long time and said: “Mehari, come and take your medicine and go home.”

 On page 39 we read about his first day at school when he arrived with a chop box on which the words James Bond had been written. As if that was not enough he wore bell bottom trousers with each “bar” measuring more than 30 inches in circumference. He was asking for trouble, and he got it. I can go on and on, but time will not permit that, and in this short piece, there is not a lot that can be said but there are two things that need to be said about Alor’s writing.

 The first is a deep sensitivity to, and appreciation of the human condition. He demonstrated a profound understanding of the soft underbelly of human existence: our fears and anxieties and the means by which people simply coped with life. How people coped with ill health, addiction, and even death or the fear of it.

 The second is the sense of humour and how exquisitely it was rendered even on the cold black-and-white page. Every page drips with humour; sometimes you just have to scream out loud, other times the laughter creeps gently on you until it fills the inside of your mouth and just has to come out. How it comes out is as much a matter of choice as of physical location. If you read this book in the comfort of your home, you can just let the laughter rip.

Alor was a very good writer from every perspective. Perhaps under different circumstances he may have made a living in creative writing instead of journalism, but in this country that is almost impossible but journalism has allowed him to pursue both passions for reporting and regaling us with great stories. On my part, in recognition of his immense talent and contribution to literature, I will propose to the Executive Committee of the Ghana Association of Writers to nominate him for a posthumous honorary membership of the Association after the next Congress in October.

Alor’s writing has been well organised by his friends and colleagues, and they deserve praise for this labour of love. The team was led by Dr. Doris Yaa Dartey, who also edited the book; other members are: Mr. John Ackom Asante, Mr. James Addy, Ms. Betsy-Ann Boateng, Mr. Affail Monney and Mr. Andrew Akolaa. They have organised the chapters according to the different themes, so that we have, for example, Love and Romance Palava, Health Palava, Politics Palava, and so on. This must have been a challenge because Alor wrote on a vast array of subjects and themes, and they were not even in his mind, clear cut and compartmentalised.

Alor should have been around to read his book. I am sure he would love it. Now, that is not possible, unless perhaps he is watching all of this, a big man in every sense, with a wry smile, behind a silver cloud.

Dr. Doris Dartey told me that her best line in the book is this: Dead men don’t eat banku. It is a classic.
gapenteng@hotmail.com