What did, the world, create
I asked my Lord
An Idea!, said He, not Fate.
And the Will to see it lored.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
$2000 Roundtrip – Delta Airlines and the Ghanaian Traveler II
Thankfully, a bottle of water awaited each of us on the plane and throughout the flight, snacks were made available at the back of the plane—a unique experience if I may say so. Anyone who knows me of course knows I am probably pickier about my food than anything else and will thus not be surprised at my dismay at what presently happened. It was partly my fault because I requested the beef option, not being one who eats poultry but since I was met with some concoction of beef sauce, assorted veggies and white rice not becoming at all of someone who likes jollof, I promptly reconsidered my options and would have gone for the chicken option with jollof but Delta had run out of that option with many passengers still to be served. Next, I asked for apple juice and the flight had run out of that as well. Finally, on entering the US airspace in evening both destination and origin time, Delta served breakfast, with one unifying option of cheese and ham sandwich, a yogurt covered granola bar and a box of orange juice. I said a silent prayer for those hungry passengers on monoamine oxidase inhibitors (fermented cheese and some other foods can lead to a sympathetic crisis when ingested by someone using MAO-Is). I neither like cheese nor un-fried bacon so I was a little stuck there.
Of course I naturally expect airline food to be horrible and have been known to fly days on only water and apple juice because of this. However, more than the food, the manner in which stewardesses responded to my queries of “can I have this or that option” is the point of contention here and the reason for this entry. My questions were met with sharp and stiff “we don’t have anymore” and “that’s the only option” delivered in a devil-may-care tone. These were the things that grated on my senses. I can only imagine the stresses of being an Air Steward but that is no justification for displacement—taking it out on another. Having been on a Lufthansa flight with disastrous customer service between Accra and Frankfurt and impeccable service between Frankfurt and New York and having transited in other European cities, I am aware of the deplorable service provided by major carriers to and from Ghana and Delta has come in for a lot of flak on this point even necessitating a rebuke from the Transport Minister in Ghana. It seems that this has fallen on deaf ears. These airlines are indeed providing invaluable services to Ghanaians but they are in the SERVICE business and at over inflated prices given travel and demand over comparable distances, it is important that they recognize they are offering very little value for their money. In April of this year, I flew to and from Ghana on a British Airways flight which cost less than $1400 and was infinitely more comfortable with service rendered with deference not seen on Delta flights. I am a fickle flyer with little to no airline loyalty. While expanding the current number of days with direct flights to Accra from JFK, New York and adding an Atlanta line, Delta might do well to realize that in spite of our politicians running national airlines into the ground, there are other options and we will pursue them.
Write in and comment. Let me know what you experiences have been on other Delta flights to Ghana and the Western world. Are there any notable differences in service delivery? Happy New Year and may every one who wants water on a flight they have paid for, receive it with smiles.
PS: I have made it to Boston safely after missing my scheduled flight. And my bag is here with me as well though torn on one side. Transition from 27+C (81+F) to 1C (34F) is not helping my mood much. See you in another piece.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Of course I naturally expect airline food to be horrible and have been known to fly days on only water and apple juice because of this. However, more than the food, the manner in which stewardesses responded to my queries of “can I have this or that option” is the point of contention here and the reason for this entry. My questions were met with sharp and stiff “we don’t have anymore” and “that’s the only option” delivered in a devil-may-care tone. These were the things that grated on my senses. I can only imagine the stresses of being an Air Steward but that is no justification for displacement—taking it out on another. Having been on a Lufthansa flight with disastrous customer service between Accra and Frankfurt and impeccable service between Frankfurt and New York and having transited in other European cities, I am aware of the deplorable service provided by major carriers to and from Ghana and Delta has come in for a lot of flak on this point even necessitating a rebuke from the Transport Minister in Ghana. It seems that this has fallen on deaf ears. These airlines are indeed providing invaluable services to Ghanaians but they are in the SERVICE business and at over inflated prices given travel and demand over comparable distances, it is important that they recognize they are offering very little value for their money. In April of this year, I flew to and from Ghana on a British Airways flight which cost less than $1400 and was infinitely more comfortable with service rendered with deference not seen on Delta flights. I am a fickle flyer with little to no airline loyalty. While expanding the current number of days with direct flights to Accra from JFK, New York and adding an Atlanta line, Delta might do well to realize that in spite of our politicians running national airlines into the ground, there are other options and we will pursue them.
Write in and comment. Let me know what you experiences have been on other Delta flights to Ghana and the Western world. Are there any notable differences in service delivery? Happy New Year and may every one who wants water on a flight they have paid for, receive it with smiles.
PS: I have made it to Boston safely after missing my scheduled flight. And my bag is here with me as well though torn on one side. Transition from 27+C (81+F) to 1C (34F) is not helping my mood much. See you in another piece.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
$2000 Roundtrip – Delta Airlines and the Ghanaian Traveler I
Plane ticket – 2000 dollars. Can of apple juice 55 cents. A little bit of customer service – Priceless. That is how a mastercard—themed commercial of the Delta Airlines direct flight between New York, JFK and Accra, Ghana would go. The last line, of course, would be sarcastic. During my entire sixteen days in Ghana over the past holidays, I have debated whether to write this piece. I am writing it now in the last hour of flight DL 167 from Accra to JFK expected to land within the next hour. Why? Ham sandwich.
But before we get there, let me tell you why after having experienced rather dismal customer service and the customary loss of baggage (they were eventually recovered) on my first transatlantic flight with Delta, I did it again. See I happen to be a student who had 14 days of break to spend over the Christmas holidays. My sister was getting married on the Saturday of the last weekend and I was expected back at work on Monday. As the plan stood originally, no matter how you slice and dice it, I could not be back in the US in convenient time on Sunday unless I was on a direct flight. Delta Airlines happens to offer that flight. My options thus limited, I cast my die with the transatlantic flight which in all the traveling I have done, still happens to be the only one on which the tv screens descend from the ceiling and the captain controls the 3 or 4 movies one watches (contrast with say British Airways where you have individual panels on seat backs).
It’s not all doom and gloom, however and there is still some light, however dim, at the end of the proverbial tunnel down which Delta seems to be flying. I had some stimulating conversations with a steward on my first flight with them and on this inbound flight, there was a particular gentleman, I made sure to get his name but have sadly forgotten it who was quite amiable, always ready with a smile and interested in the book I was reading – Invisible Man (A thumping good read and a work of genius). Alas that was blighted by the actions of his colleagues. Let me give you an example. Hardly had our flight left the ground after a long period of taxiing at the JFK than a lady sat in the row behind me pressed her call button. In comes the Delta stewardess in good time breathing fire:
Stewardess: What is your emergency?
Lady: I feel dehydrated. I need some water.
Stewardess: Is that an emergency?
Now forgive me for asking but were the call buttons actually put in by Delta only for emergencies? And even if they were, what constitutes an emergency? I am no authority on the issue but I do believe a lady who feels dehydrated, having been signaled ultimately by his body’s volume/sodium control would, depending on the situation, be rather treatable if caught early and if nothing at all, deserves some sympathy if not outright decorum from a stewardess in the service business. I have since spoken to my girlfriend, sister and other friends who came in on various other Delta operated flights and the immediate consensus is and I quote “OMG! The Delta Crew is so rude!”
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
But before we get there, let me tell you why after having experienced rather dismal customer service and the customary loss of baggage (they were eventually recovered) on my first transatlantic flight with Delta, I did it again. See I happen to be a student who had 14 days of break to spend over the Christmas holidays. My sister was getting married on the Saturday of the last weekend and I was expected back at work on Monday. As the plan stood originally, no matter how you slice and dice it, I could not be back in the US in convenient time on Sunday unless I was on a direct flight. Delta Airlines happens to offer that flight. My options thus limited, I cast my die with the transatlantic flight which in all the traveling I have done, still happens to be the only one on which the tv screens descend from the ceiling and the captain controls the 3 or 4 movies one watches (contrast with say British Airways where you have individual panels on seat backs).
It’s not all doom and gloom, however and there is still some light, however dim, at the end of the proverbial tunnel down which Delta seems to be flying. I had some stimulating conversations with a steward on my first flight with them and on this inbound flight, there was a particular gentleman, I made sure to get his name but have sadly forgotten it who was quite amiable, always ready with a smile and interested in the book I was reading – Invisible Man (A thumping good read and a work of genius). Alas that was blighted by the actions of his colleagues. Let me give you an example. Hardly had our flight left the ground after a long period of taxiing at the JFK than a lady sat in the row behind me pressed her call button. In comes the Delta stewardess in good time breathing fire:
Stewardess: What is your emergency?
Lady: I feel dehydrated. I need some water.
Stewardess: Is that an emergency?
Now forgive me for asking but were the call buttons actually put in by Delta only for emergencies? And even if they were, what constitutes an emergency? I am no authority on the issue but I do believe a lady who feels dehydrated, having been signaled ultimately by his body’s volume/sodium control would, depending on the situation, be rather treatable if caught early and if nothing at all, deserves some sympathy if not outright decorum from a stewardess in the service business. I have since spoken to my girlfriend, sister and other friends who came in on various other Delta operated flights and the immediate consensus is and I quote “OMG! The Delta Crew is so rude!”
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Friday, January 15, 2010
Haiti -- How to Help
You have probably already heard of the tragedy in Haiti and the thousands of reported and estimated casualties. This is to encourage all of you to send your donations towards delivering aid to the affected as they strive to get back on their feet.
Please go to the following websites and donate or volunteer or find more ways to help the recovery efforts.
Partners In Health
Reach Ghana (in support of Partners In Health)
Oxfam
Yele (Although there have been new concerns raised about Wyclef's organization)
World Vision
Google
If you are in the US, you can also text YELE to 501501 to support the efforts of Jean Wyclef. Make a difference. Make it count.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Please go to the following websites and donate or volunteer or find more ways to help the recovery efforts.
Partners In Health
Reach Ghana (in support of Partners In Health)
Oxfam
Yele (Although there have been new concerns raised about Wyclef's organization)
World Vision
If you are in the US, you can also text YELE to 501501 to support the efforts of Jean Wyclef. Make a difference. Make it count.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Myself -- Village Idiot
My name is Edo Bedzra, I come from Xikpo in the Volta Region. My father’s name is …. My mother’s name is …. If you grew up in the Ghanaian educational system, you know where I should go with the essay. But I’m not going there. Well, see, the thing is, I am sorta going there but will not tell you my favorite food. I’ll tell you about my trip to the Volta Region of Ghana and the things I saw on the way there.
We’ll begin my trip at Madina a suburb of Accra in the Greater Accra Region and end at Torgbelotokope a burb of Dabala in the Volta Region of Ghana and along the way, we will mostly comment on the positives. I had to make a long round about trip from my bus stop – Firestone – to Atomic Junction because of the current expansion of the Tetteh Quarshie Roundabout – Dodowa road into a three carriage road in each direction, and the overpass to be constructed at Atomic. After the initial inconvenience of the detour, one gets onto the dusty trail of road building between Atomic Junction and Okponglo that left thoughtlessly white shirts brown after a few trips and informed my black shirted choice this time round. On the way, I see the Presbyterian Boys Secondary School on the left curiously old but still producing some of the best scientific minds Ghana has seen and across from it, the ubiquitous upshot of structures and construction work of multiple hostels to cater for the ever-growing need for accommodation of students at the University of Ghana. After that, it’s the ambitious university of Ghana Stadium rising rather majestically on the roadside that captures my attention and I wonder from whence the finances for it arise and the prioritization of projects in our beacon of education.
This brings me to the Tetteh Quarshie roundabout quite nicely designed and linked to our main motorway which has led some to the decongestion of traffic and increased productivity in some intangible way. By its side is the Accra mall, the new hangout place for high schoolers on break, and distributor of many goods South African. The road into Accra from here has the same old stuff, Airport, Airport City still under construction with a functioning Holiday Inn and a Hilton under construction, 37 Military Hospital and of course the presidential palace – see the piece below. You also see a nicely built Ghanaian College of Physicians and Surgeons which I hope is doing something positive for Ghana – watch for the entry on the practice of medicine in Ghana sometime in the future. Up next, the National Theater where I alighted at the Novotel bus stop to make my walk into the Tudu station for a tro-tro to Dabala. It was a national holiday so the city center was not as bustling as it usually is and I could drag my bag nicely on the sidewalk to the chagrin of the kayayei (porters who help carry multiple and heavy loads for quite small amounts of money). These porters are predominantly urban female immigrants from the Northern regions and are left to the elements and dangers of the streets. A few of them who could not have been older than 15 have little kids on their back or lying by them on the pavements and I’ll leave it to the readers’ imagination to ponder how the children could have happened. In the mini-van at the station, I saw another one with a storey of suitcases that must have been taller than her. She’s in the picture below.
She’s making a livelihood though and an honest one and along with her, the market women selling all wares from fruit juices to biscuits, singlets to rechargeable torchlights imported from China and the guy who wanted to sell gold-plated necklaces and a weird assortment of belts to me. Their interactions with passengers and the back and forth bargains under the scorching sun are so traditionally Ghanaian. I could drive a bargain in my time.
2 hours later, the 14 passengers to get the van full were set and I could leave for my village. This part of the trip, while longer, is rather lacking in the excitement of the previous one. The main attractions are the branch off the main road to Ada where there is the Ada Beach Resort, a party ground and a place for the holidays as evidenced by the multiple cars with families foreign and local heading in that direction. Then one arrives at the Lower Volta Bridge across the Volta River along which lies the multiple communities like Sogakope, groves, Hotel Cisneros and the Holy Trinity Spa and Health Farm. The spa is an exercise in luxury and an increasingly popular destination for tourists and the upwardly mobile Ghanaian. It boasts cruises, spa services and general relaxation overseen by Dr. Anyah. There have been complaints about quality of service, however. I might be able to tell you soon what a mole thinks about the operation.
As has become the norm in my recent entries, I’ll leave you with food for thought. The most glaring presence on our road, during my 2 hour journey, was the police checkpoints. The more established ones, including the ones fashioned out of Polytank water storage tanks did their cursory checks—for what, I dunno—and let our van through. But between these, there were others with two or three policemen ostensibly checking for defects in vehicles or licenses and reporting to the authorities for legal action/safety of the passengers. I say ostensibly because when our van got the checkpoint near Hleve, a couple of meters from the Sogakope District Hospital serving the South Tongu District, we were stopped. The driver, by whom I was sitting, went out with a 1 cedi (71 cents) note in hand and no driving documents. A second later, he was back empty handed and we were waved on. This, dear reader, is not a rare occurrence. Whatever defects our vehicle might have had, whatever defiency its driver may suffer from are forgotten and our lives and their futures are sold for that 1 cedi. Some have argued it is because civil servants are paid so little that corruption exists but is the driver making so much he can give out to these officers? And are our lives so worthless a contract between the police and law-breaking vehicle operators can buy them? May the new year bring with it hopes and changes worthy of our progress as a nation. And may God be with us all.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
We’ll begin my trip at Madina a suburb of Accra in the Greater Accra Region and end at Torgbelotokope a burb of Dabala in the Volta Region of Ghana and along the way, we will mostly comment on the positives. I had to make a long round about trip from my bus stop – Firestone – to Atomic Junction because of the current expansion of the Tetteh Quarshie Roundabout – Dodowa road into a three carriage road in each direction, and the overpass to be constructed at Atomic. After the initial inconvenience of the detour, one gets onto the dusty trail of road building between Atomic Junction and Okponglo that left thoughtlessly white shirts brown after a few trips and informed my black shirted choice this time round. On the way, I see the Presbyterian Boys Secondary School on the left curiously old but still producing some of the best scientific minds Ghana has seen and across from it, the ubiquitous upshot of structures and construction work of multiple hostels to cater for the ever-growing need for accommodation of students at the University of Ghana. After that, it’s the ambitious university of Ghana Stadium rising rather majestically on the roadside that captures my attention and I wonder from whence the finances for it arise and the prioritization of projects in our beacon of education.
This brings me to the Tetteh Quarshie roundabout quite nicely designed and linked to our main motorway which has led some to the decongestion of traffic and increased productivity in some intangible way. By its side is the Accra mall, the new hangout place for high schoolers on break, and distributor of many goods South African. The road into Accra from here has the same old stuff, Airport, Airport City still under construction with a functioning Holiday Inn and a Hilton under construction, 37 Military Hospital and of course the presidential palace – see the piece below. You also see a nicely built Ghanaian College of Physicians and Surgeons which I hope is doing something positive for Ghana – watch for the entry on the practice of medicine in Ghana sometime in the future. Up next, the National Theater where I alighted at the Novotel bus stop to make my walk into the Tudu station for a tro-tro to Dabala. It was a national holiday so the city center was not as bustling as it usually is and I could drag my bag nicely on the sidewalk to the chagrin of the kayayei (porters who help carry multiple and heavy loads for quite small amounts of money). These porters are predominantly urban female immigrants from the Northern regions and are left to the elements and dangers of the streets. A few of them who could not have been older than 15 have little kids on their back or lying by them on the pavements and I’ll leave it to the readers’ imagination to ponder how the children could have happened. In the mini-van at the station, I saw another one with a storey of suitcases that must have been taller than her. She’s in the picture below.
She’s making a livelihood though and an honest one and along with her, the market women selling all wares from fruit juices to biscuits, singlets to rechargeable torchlights imported from China and the guy who wanted to sell gold-plated necklaces and a weird assortment of belts to me. Their interactions with passengers and the back and forth bargains under the scorching sun are so traditionally Ghanaian. I could drive a bargain in my time.
2 hours later, the 14 passengers to get the van full were set and I could leave for my village. This part of the trip, while longer, is rather lacking in the excitement of the previous one. The main attractions are the branch off the main road to Ada where there is the Ada Beach Resort, a party ground and a place for the holidays as evidenced by the multiple cars with families foreign and local heading in that direction. Then one arrives at the Lower Volta Bridge across the Volta River along which lies the multiple communities like Sogakope, groves, Hotel Cisneros and the Holy Trinity Spa and Health Farm. The spa is an exercise in luxury and an increasingly popular destination for tourists and the upwardly mobile Ghanaian. It boasts cruises, spa services and general relaxation overseen by Dr. Anyah. There have been complaints about quality of service, however. I might be able to tell you soon what a mole thinks about the operation.
As has become the norm in my recent entries, I’ll leave you with food for thought. The most glaring presence on our road, during my 2 hour journey, was the police checkpoints. The more established ones, including the ones fashioned out of Polytank water storage tanks did their cursory checks—for what, I dunno—and let our van through. But between these, there were others with two or three policemen ostensibly checking for defects in vehicles or licenses and reporting to the authorities for legal action/safety of the passengers. I say ostensibly because when our van got the checkpoint near Hleve, a couple of meters from the Sogakope District Hospital serving the South Tongu District, we were stopped. The driver, by whom I was sitting, went out with a 1 cedi (71 cents) note in hand and no driving documents. A second later, he was back empty handed and we were waved on. This, dear reader, is not a rare occurrence. Whatever defects our vehicle might have had, whatever defiency its driver may suffer from are forgotten and our lives and their futures are sold for that 1 cedi. Some have argued it is because civil servants are paid so little that corruption exists but is the driver making so much he can give out to these officers? And are our lives so worthless a contract between the police and law-breaking vehicle operators can buy them? May the new year bring with it hopes and changes worthy of our progress as a nation. And may God be with us all.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Friday, January 8, 2010
Domestication aka The Time I Spent, The Things I Saw
Today, I woke up to the sad news of the passing away of Dan Lartey. My promised entry on Dabala will have to come next. He burst onto the political scene, at least my scene, in 2000 with the proclamation, “Come December 7, me and my wife are going straight to the castle”. For students of history, the Osu Christianborg Castle has been the seat of government/the Presidency since it was converted from a slave castle. Dan Lartey had started the Great Consolidated Popular Party which in Ghanaian parlance meant there was nothing great at all about this great party. The platform on which Mr. Lartey (he did not become President Lartey) run was Domestication – he was talking about a new consciousness, a new drive to emphasize Ghanaian capability and encourage domestic enterprise/sufficiency in place of the “foreign is better” mentality and the overwhelming dependence on foreign debt for Fiscal and Monetary spending. In this way, it was similar to the “Operation Feed Yourself” of the Acheampong Military Regime but then again, that regime was also known for “Fa woto begye Golf” to wit, exchange your butt (sexual favors) for political/monetary favors which doomed the former. The problem, as is usually the case in these instances, was with the vessel rather than the message for if one of the two major political parties had come up with this platform, it would have been hailed far and wide as genius.
I would run a campaign on domestication. In fact I have been running such a campaign, not politically of course but within friends and colleagues, I have maintained that the African is capable of managing his affairs (apologies to Dr. Kwame Nkrumah). Let me give you a couple of examples that have been encouraging to me. Prior to my leaving this country in 2003 as a starry-eyed 18 year old, the fashion industry had already begun making the move towards producing designs/products that met international standards, creating products and labels they could sell at a premium – one thinks of the mkogh line from Mawuli Okudzeto and the recent pkog line by Papa Kwame Osei. That industry has not let up especially as it has tapped into the Ghanaian hunger for “designer” labels and need to advertise his patriotism. As I type this, I am wearing a rather chic black shirt (if I may say so myself) with the Ghana Coat of Arms and Map in the colors of the Ghanaian Flag made so well that it immediately reaffirms my ancestry without shouting noisily that I am Ghanaian so much that people miss the point in the hullaballoo. It’s made by some minor design houses (although I have a sinking suspicion China might be behind some manufacturing) and sold on Osu Oxford street for anywhere from 10 to 20 bucks depending on your bargaining power. I presume the cost of manufacturing is much lower than that but I am willing to pay the premium. On the cloth/textiles front, Printex, among many are integrating Ghanaian idioms and Adinkra symbols into the making of cloths for the local Ghanaian market and through an advertising blitz that has made it cool to wear Ghanaian prints to work, one has begun to see the preponderance of workers clad in local wear at anything from commercial banks to Parliament House. They have ceased to be the preserve of funerals, outdooring rites and church services thus increasing revenue for these companies and generating jobs for the economy.
Two other industries have since joined the fray and are worth mentioning. The information technology field has bloomed since the first NIIT school was established on Ring Road Central. Today, there are local companies like Soft Tribe and Tribal Solutions (started by a friend of mine) which are churning out software for the peculiar needs of Ghanaian companies and providing support for home-brewed and foreign software. At the recent Barcamp Ghana, the IT presentations were the most sought after and it was refreshing to hear Ghanaian youth espousing strategies for start-ups and business models for sustainability. With minimal overlays into laptop computers, internet connection and some basic software, one can start a software development operation and build on it. At this point, I cannot help plugging REACH Ghana, an NGO started by Ghanaians like myself for Ghanaians, aimed at delivering healthcare to Ghana, providing health access to underserved communities, enhancing the education of the Ghanaian health professional and encouraging scientific research into the health and practice of healthcare in our communities. It was conceived at Barcamp Diaspora in Washington DC in July 2009. See the beginning and join the cause at www.reachghana.org. Make a change, make it count.
The last industry to comment on is the fruit juice industry. Most of the fruit produced in the country when I was here were exported but these days, it has been realized that as easily as fruit can be made into juice in western countries, perhaps more easily (due to low labor costs), it can be made in Ghana. Granted that my taste buds have been serenaded with a veritable bevy of sensations given the creative mixtures of juices that have been produced from the sleeves of these juice companies and have made it impossible for me to not go back for more but the packaging! My God, the packaging! From boxes in the mould of Don Simon to bottles in the shape of champagne (containing sparkling fruit juices for tee-to-tallers like us replacing alcoholic beverages at almost every Ghanaian function), Ghanaian firms have moved from tied plastic bags to hygienic and appealing packaging that attract the customer and provide a sense of living and accomplishment to her (deserved or not) when she drinks their juices. Again, good marketing has gone a long way to increasing their market share to the extent where I have not seen much of the foreign varieties of fruit drinks since arriving a week or so ago.
I am very much impressed by the headways our industries have made and I look forward to one day contributing to the self sufficiency of this great nation of ours. I do leave you however on a sober note. Were Dan Lartey to be alive today and as brash as in 2000, he would say “Come December 7th, 2012, me and my wife are going straight to the Presidential Palace”. This palace is the monstrosity built on the right side of the road when traveling between the 37 Military Hospital and The National Theater. You will know it by its ugliness. On what could have been prime industrial/commercial land, in the face of human poverty and suffering, we have built with a $30million loan from the Indian government, designed by Indian Architects (but resembling the ugly cousin of the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum designed by a Ghanaian) and constructed by Indian contractors, an $80-135 million eye-sore with little local involvement on the mere premise that “even the Gambia has a presidential palace (well I simplify)”. It ran smack in the face of logic and common sense but even more so in the face of the ideals of self sufficiency and ensured that as is usually the case, the bulk of a loan returned to the economy of the “donor” and made the recipient poorer in resources and richer in idiocy. I have the misfortune of passing in front of this fool’s paradise every time I go into Accra from Madina where I live but these days, rather than make me disillusioned with the custodians of our beloved country, it reminds me of the better job that could have been done by our local professionals. It reinforces what Dr. Andrew Arkutu told me in a conversation four days ago; ‘men can die but ideas cannot be killed’. May Dan Lartey rest in peace. And long live Domestication. Happy New Year.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
I would run a campaign on domestication. In fact I have been running such a campaign, not politically of course but within friends and colleagues, I have maintained that the African is capable of managing his affairs (apologies to Dr. Kwame Nkrumah). Let me give you a couple of examples that have been encouraging to me. Prior to my leaving this country in 2003 as a starry-eyed 18 year old, the fashion industry had already begun making the move towards producing designs/products that met international standards, creating products and labels they could sell at a premium – one thinks of the mkogh line from Mawuli Okudzeto and the recent pkog line by Papa Kwame Osei. That industry has not let up especially as it has tapped into the Ghanaian hunger for “designer” labels and need to advertise his patriotism. As I type this, I am wearing a rather chic black shirt (if I may say so myself) with the Ghana Coat of Arms and Map in the colors of the Ghanaian Flag made so well that it immediately reaffirms my ancestry without shouting noisily that I am Ghanaian so much that people miss the point in the hullaballoo. It’s made by some minor design houses (although I have a sinking suspicion China might be behind some manufacturing) and sold on Osu Oxford street for anywhere from 10 to 20 bucks depending on your bargaining power. I presume the cost of manufacturing is much lower than that but I am willing to pay the premium. On the cloth/textiles front, Printex, among many are integrating Ghanaian idioms and Adinkra symbols into the making of cloths for the local Ghanaian market and through an advertising blitz that has made it cool to wear Ghanaian prints to work, one has begun to see the preponderance of workers clad in local wear at anything from commercial banks to Parliament House. They have ceased to be the preserve of funerals, outdooring rites and church services thus increasing revenue for these companies and generating jobs for the economy.
Two other industries have since joined the fray and are worth mentioning. The information technology field has bloomed since the first NIIT school was established on Ring Road Central. Today, there are local companies like Soft Tribe and Tribal Solutions (started by a friend of mine) which are churning out software for the peculiar needs of Ghanaian companies and providing support for home-brewed and foreign software. At the recent Barcamp Ghana, the IT presentations were the most sought after and it was refreshing to hear Ghanaian youth espousing strategies for start-ups and business models for sustainability. With minimal overlays into laptop computers, internet connection and some basic software, one can start a software development operation and build on it. At this point, I cannot help plugging REACH Ghana, an NGO started by Ghanaians like myself for Ghanaians, aimed at delivering healthcare to Ghana, providing health access to underserved communities, enhancing the education of the Ghanaian health professional and encouraging scientific research into the health and practice of healthcare in our communities. It was conceived at Barcamp Diaspora in Washington DC in July 2009. See the beginning and join the cause at www.reachghana.org. Make a change, make it count.
The last industry to comment on is the fruit juice industry. Most of the fruit produced in the country when I was here were exported but these days, it has been realized that as easily as fruit can be made into juice in western countries, perhaps more easily (due to low labor costs), it can be made in Ghana. Granted that my taste buds have been serenaded with a veritable bevy of sensations given the creative mixtures of juices that have been produced from the sleeves of these juice companies and have made it impossible for me to not go back for more but the packaging! My God, the packaging! From boxes in the mould of Don Simon to bottles in the shape of champagne (containing sparkling fruit juices for tee-to-tallers like us replacing alcoholic beverages at almost every Ghanaian function), Ghanaian firms have moved from tied plastic bags to hygienic and appealing packaging that attract the customer and provide a sense of living and accomplishment to her (deserved or not) when she drinks their juices. Again, good marketing has gone a long way to increasing their market share to the extent where I have not seen much of the foreign varieties of fruit drinks since arriving a week or so ago.
I am very much impressed by the headways our industries have made and I look forward to one day contributing to the self sufficiency of this great nation of ours. I do leave you however on a sober note. Were Dan Lartey to be alive today and as brash as in 2000, he would say “Come December 7th, 2012, me and my wife are going straight to the Presidential Palace”. This palace is the monstrosity built on the right side of the road when traveling between the 37 Military Hospital and The National Theater. You will know it by its ugliness. On what could have been prime industrial/commercial land, in the face of human poverty and suffering, we have built with a $30million loan from the Indian government, designed by Indian Architects (but resembling the ugly cousin of the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum designed by a Ghanaian) and constructed by Indian contractors, an $80-135 million eye-sore with little local involvement on the mere premise that “even the Gambia has a presidential palace (well I simplify)”. It ran smack in the face of logic and common sense but even more so in the face of the ideals of self sufficiency and ensured that as is usually the case, the bulk of a loan returned to the economy of the “donor” and made the recipient poorer in resources and richer in idiocy. I have the misfortune of passing in front of this fool’s paradise every time I go into Accra from Madina where I live but these days, rather than make me disillusioned with the custodians of our beloved country, it reminds me of the better job that could have been done by our local professionals. It reinforces what Dr. Andrew Arkutu told me in a conversation four days ago; ‘men can die but ideas cannot be killed’. May Dan Lartey rest in peace. And long live Domestication. Happy New Year.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Ghana My Happy Home
I have been told that my blog entries are “too long” so I will try to economize words and subjects in this one. As those on facebook already know, I arrived in Ghana on December 20th after a long flight which just barely missed the impending snowstorm in new york—ah those were the days of prayer. Well to repeat what fb already knows again, just when the pilot announced the beginning of our descent, Bob Marley’s Africa Unite started on my ipod with the lyrics “Africa unite ‘cos we’re moving right out of Babylon and we’re going to our father’s land”. It was an apt welcome into my beloved home land and when the humid air at 27.2C (81F) hit my three-layer clothed self, I made the sign of the cross and thought “it’s good to be home”. It is good to be home and I’ve been singing the following song (I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the lyrics but I capture the essence) ever since:
Ghana my happy home,
Land of rich resources,
Land of mighty talent, racial tolerance, justice and freedom.
I will fight for thee, O my Ghana, I will die for thee, O my Ghana
I will uplift thy name, in all I do, justice and freedom.
What I find quintessentially Ghanaian, however, can sometimes be vexing for those who live here year-round. For instance, later in the evening on the day I came home, the lights suddenly went out—no it wasn’t a ghost story—the electricity had been cut as part of rationing by the Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG). See, our electric power is mainly hydroelectric generated from the one dam on the Volta Lake (the biggest man-made lake in the world). It’s supplemented by solar power and a second dam is in the works but I digress. Anyway, when the water level goes down, there is load rationing and the lights go off at different places at different times to enable sustainability. So here we all are watching the 11 channels of private and public tv and the lights go out. I am jumping and shouting for joy at this happy reenactment of my childhood and everyone else is grumpy. Dear reader, what would you have done? Can’t I be happy? I was happy and I’ll tell you why.
The longer I have stayed in the US, the more I have longed for home and that way of life – the complicated life made up of coal pots, firewood, smoke, lack of access to water and that most unique characteristic of that life – family. For some reason, I have come to miss, love and yearn for my family more than I have in my life. Maybe it’s moving into a studio apartment or the intrinsic isolation of 3rd year medical school but I like to think I’m just growing to better appreciate what it is that family means. Family was always first with me but this time I know better what it takes to keep it together and I have felt more and more the need to belong in one. One of the things that make it possible is “light off” and when those lights gave out, we immediately went onto the porch and started a lively conversation ranging from the mundane to the political. It was a family moment so thoroughly enjoyed.
Another family moment is eating together. Most Ghanaian dishes are prepared to be eaten by hand and at least in my family, it used to be a family affair; four or so sets of right hands eating from a single bowl, four or so sets of heads conferring at a meal-time ritual exchanging ideas, planning, advising, being together. We are moving a bit away from that now as the times and demands of work put individuals on different schedules and make it impossible to spend time together as a family unit. I came to my village, Dabala, today. I’ll tell you the things I saw on the trip here and what the experience is now I’m here, in the next entry. In the meantime, I will continue to consort with the symphony of mosquitoes that have been singing such Christmas favorites as Silent Night and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town with local mixes like Agba Ee Mido Agba Nam A, Mewi Wo Mawi Wo Nkasei. Best wishes of the holidays. Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Ghana my happy home,
Land of rich resources,
Land of mighty talent, racial tolerance, justice and freedom.
I will fight for thee, O my Ghana, I will die for thee, O my Ghana
I will uplift thy name, in all I do, justice and freedom.
What I find quintessentially Ghanaian, however, can sometimes be vexing for those who live here year-round. For instance, later in the evening on the day I came home, the lights suddenly went out—no it wasn’t a ghost story—the electricity had been cut as part of rationing by the Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG). See, our electric power is mainly hydroelectric generated from the one dam on the Volta Lake (the biggest man-made lake in the world). It’s supplemented by solar power and a second dam is in the works but I digress. Anyway, when the water level goes down, there is load rationing and the lights go off at different places at different times to enable sustainability. So here we all are watching the 11 channels of private and public tv and the lights go out. I am jumping and shouting for joy at this happy reenactment of my childhood and everyone else is grumpy. Dear reader, what would you have done? Can’t I be happy? I was happy and I’ll tell you why.
The longer I have stayed in the US, the more I have longed for home and that way of life – the complicated life made up of coal pots, firewood, smoke, lack of access to water and that most unique characteristic of that life – family. For some reason, I have come to miss, love and yearn for my family more than I have in my life. Maybe it’s moving into a studio apartment or the intrinsic isolation of 3rd year medical school but I like to think I’m just growing to better appreciate what it is that family means. Family was always first with me but this time I know better what it takes to keep it together and I have felt more and more the need to belong in one. One of the things that make it possible is “light off” and when those lights gave out, we immediately went onto the porch and started a lively conversation ranging from the mundane to the political. It was a family moment so thoroughly enjoyed.
Another family moment is eating together. Most Ghanaian dishes are prepared to be eaten by hand and at least in my family, it used to be a family affair; four or so sets of right hands eating from a single bowl, four or so sets of heads conferring at a meal-time ritual exchanging ideas, planning, advising, being together. We are moving a bit away from that now as the times and demands of work put individuals on different schedules and make it impossible to spend time together as a family unit. I came to my village, Dabala, today. I’ll tell you the things I saw on the trip here and what the experience is now I’m here, in the next entry. In the meantime, I will continue to consort with the symphony of mosquitoes that have been singing such Christmas favorites as Silent Night and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town with local mixes like Agba Ee Mido Agba Nam A, Mewi Wo Mawi Wo Nkasei. Best wishes of the holidays. Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Happy New Year
A very merry christmas and a happy new year to you all. Over the next couple of days, if not weeks, I will be uploading entries I wrote while on vacation in Ghana over the holidays. I managed to have little internet access during this time and thus could not upload these entries. I am however doing that in the coming days and since I am altogether too lazy/not motivated to change the writings/the moments, I will upload them as I wrote them chronologically but be mindful that their tenses refer to a past time and not the day they show up.
Otherwise, Happy New Year again and may this year be a fruitful one for all of us. I hope you keep reading these ramblings.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
Otherwise, Happy New Year again and may this year be a fruitful one for all of us. I hope you keep reading these ramblings.
Prime
*************************************************
This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************
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