“A courage which looks easy and yet is rare; the courage of a teacher repeating day after day the same lessons - the least rewarded of all forms of courage” – Honore de Balzac
If you attended school in Ghana, West Africa, or I daresay any African country, you have probably been lashed/received corporal punishment. I remember all six teachers who ever lashed me; two of course being my parents. I never cried. I was a big boy. I was close a few times though—my classmates at Mfantsipim can tell you about one. But these traumatic experiences do not form the basis of my memories. I can tell you the names of at least 90% of my teachers so far from Ms. Amenyui through Mr. Azasoo, Frimpong, Collins Aguzey, “Harriso wo yɛ tall”, “Adorable – Paul Adu Kumi, “Coomson aka Fuck”, “Baffoeman, Yeboaman, “Borlɛɛ”, “Karishika/Matriculation”, “Duncanman aka “The Son of Man”, “Aboa Apɔnkye” to “Duoduman”.
From Louis Baffoe intoning “you are mad!” because I screwed up a mathematical calculation to Aboa Apɔnkye teaching us temperature was the sixth sense and that HIV stood for “Highly Infections Virus” (it stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus by the way), there are many unique stories by which we remember our teachers. I recall Mr. Kusi forcing us to buy his useless pamphlets, Karishika skipping English periods while trying to induce our paying her for extra classes and Borlɛɛ’s tag line “as for you Edo, you are a baaaaaaaaaaaad boy” anytime I went for an exeat (signed permission to leave school) for the town of Cape Coast. I also remember Yeboahman allowing me to attend his high-cost but effective extra classes in Physics for free, Baffoeman lending me his Math texts for study, “Adorable” buying me an English-French dictionary, and Duoduman screening World Cup matches at his house. What I’m saying is my development as an individual and my success as a student has been entirely due to my teachers. Same could be said for the larger majority of my friends. So why are they paid so little?
I was a rebel growing up – at home that is. In school, I was always an angel, well, with the teachers anyways. Maybe it was fear of corporal punishment. Whatever, it worked. In my village, teachers wielded extraordinary power that extended to time outside school. A parent could request punishment of kids for some wrong committed at home. When teachers decreed that funerals were no place for children, it meant you did not want to be seen at a funeral by a teacher or, God forbid, the headmaster. And you did not want them to catch you doing something wrong outside of school. Teachers were our moral compasses, our role models, our number one fans, our most severe critics and our fiercest supporters.
There were inspections on Monday mornings for cleanliness – white socks, washed and pressed uniform, hair cut short, fingernails clipped, teeth brushed, it was a beauty. And this was outside of the fact they were actually doing teaching in the classrooms. When I was practicing my cursives in the sand under the big Neem tree in Dabala, it was a teacher who held my hands. And it was a teacher who taught me about “Air Pressure” and how I could turn a glass of water upside down with covering as flimsy as a cardboard and it wouldn’t spill.
The most widely heard saying in Ghana regarding teachers, however, remained “a teacher’s reward is in heaven”. But is it? I have been wondering about how society judges the value of different services. In Ghana, we were of the view that the US valued its teachers more and that they were among the highest earners in the country. How wrong we were! Teachers earn a pittance here and, it seems, everywhere else. How can that be? I do not know much about the requirements for teaching in the US but at least in my country, this usually involves attending a three-year Teacher Training College, a tertiary institution. The admission criteria for these schools are less stringent than for four year universities which meant they became places for students who did not make the college grade. One can then boost her pay grade, albeit marginally, by attending a “mature” students degree course in university although most look at this as an escape from teaching. Rather than fault this set-up, however, I fault the human condition.
Society as a whole is obsessed with education and the level of education achieved resulting in pay levels increasing as you achieve higher and higher levels of education even if your degree is as useless as Latin outside of the catholic church. No, I am not arguing against education. Ask my family, it’s the only thing I seem to offer them when we speak—go back to school, get another degree and the like. But shouldn’t the future value of a person’s work be indicated in their remuneration?
A profession which seems to be at the extreme end of this value-based remuneration is medicine where doctors are paid large amounts of money for barely keeping a patient alive. Even here, primary care doctors who save the system hills of money by preventing complications before they arise earn the least pay. What influences the value of a man’s work seems steeped more in how immediate the results are than what the actual contribution to society over time is of his work.
We are blinded by the college graduates who generate millions sometimes doing mind-numbing work on Wall Street so we pay them in loads and cap it all by giving some CEOs significant portions of GDP even when companies fail. But we are unable to foresee the fact that we would have a society of illiterates and no professionals without the teacher. Imagine a society without doctors, lawyers, businessmen, farmers, historians, technicians, to mention a few. We’d be back in the ice age in no time.
Supply and demand and the curse of Adam Smith continue to numb us into decreasing the reward of teachers because, well, they are easily replaceable. They are, of course. But is this enough to keep their pay low? Imagine waking up each day, writing the same teaching plans albeit modified for the characteristics of the class that year, standing in front of students and repeating the same information over and over again. And most of them do it faithfully and cheerfully, knowing the only reward they have is hearing of their students who made it. And the only way they could ever be rich, at least in Ghana, is go into politics and become parliamentarians.
So even though it is not teachers’ day today, shout outs to all my teachers, past and present. Part of your rewards are in heaven all right but the larger part is in our pockets as a society and especially, in those of our politicians. I pray one day it is returned to you.
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
*************************************************
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
The Politics of Recycling
One said to Confucius: “Why are ye not in power, Sir?”
The Master answered: “What does the book say of a good son? 'An always dutiful son, who is a friend to his brothers, showeth the way to rule.' This also is to rule. What need to be in power?”
(Confucius, Confucius. The Sayings of Confucius. Hayes Barton Press, 478 B.C.).
Tuesday, November 3, 1992: Do you remember where you were? I do. I was 7yrs old, in Class 3. It was the first presidential election of the Fourth Republic of Ghana. It was 13 years in the making. 11 since Junior Jesus, Chairman Rawlings had completed his second coup d’etat. The election results would come to live in infamy as “The Stolen Verdict” but those were remarkable times to be alive. Oh yes, that evening, I was playing football on the little volleyball court adjacent the perpetually uncompleted Evangelical Presbyterian Church building in Dabala. This was the Volta Region. This was the World Bank…for the National Democratic Congress that is. It was the stronghold of the party formed by the newest “democrat” on the block; the soon to be President Rawlings.
The NDC had run a particularly shrewd campaign. There was the catchy “No retreat, no surrender. No curve, no bend. Straight to victory. NDC, Akatamanso” which blared from loudspeakers mounted on the newly minted Toyota pick-ups. Then there was the play on people’s superstition with fishermen suddenly catching crabs with the distinctive colors and umbrella of the NDC indelibly imprinted on their backs. The rumours spread like a harmattan fire; God and the gods had anointed the NDC. Thus when there was a funeral held behind the Post Office with a coffin for the elephant of the New Patriotic Party, it seemed only appropriate. The elephant had it coming. And that day when we all stopped play for a moment and shouted after the rickety old lady, tottering to the old JSS campus to put thumb to paper, to vote for Rawlings, we were only repeating the refrain so often sang--what I had heard from my grandfather’s Sanyo radio for 7 years, Chairman Rawlings…, Chairman Rawlings…, Chairman Rawlings. That,….and nothing else.
But this is not some trip-down-memory-lane piece. This is about a remarkable aspect of the political landscape of Ghana and of the many parties in our multi-party, very African Democracy. It is that long before the developed world started the green revolution, before the “pure water” sachets would dance freely in the putrid waters of the Korle Lagoon we were recycling. See in 1992, I heard of Rawlings, Adu Boahen, Limann, Arkaah, Mills, Mahama, even Kufuor. 18 years on and these same names ring out. Some, may they rest in peace, have since passed on. But as these parties proclaim allegiance to the Nkrumahs and Busias, so their leaders continuously descend directly from these dead presidents or the people around them. Welcome to the world of dynasties. Welcome to Political Recycling.
As I write this, Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo, the incessant chatterbox with the affected slang twang has been elected the flag bearer of the NPP beating virtually the same field he did the last time round. He is the son of Edward Akufo-Addo, member of The Big Six, and later president of Ghana in the Busia administration. Junior lost the last presidential elections as flag bearer for the NPP. But as surely as current President Atta Mills was elected again and again by the NDC in spite of losing two straight elections, so it seems, the NPP is recycling its limited resources. There is of course something to be said for brand and name recognition; it is arguably a major reason Mills won the last election. And within a party, loyalists at the top will push to get their candidate in place, helped by the specter of incumbency and inertia of the masses. So the recycling continues and the same trash gets put out over and over again.
But at what point is recycled material unusable? My dad used to say that the useful span for a man to implement his vision is at most 10 years. He is of course no expert but one would be hard pressed to find a politician who has ideas to last the first week of office let alone one hundred and twenty moons. So why do they keep coming back? My sister says it is because every rich man’s dream in Ghana is to be president. It is the ultimate status symbol. And since there really are no qualification requirements, anybody from the high school drop-out, Rawlings, through the non-practicing lawyer Kufuor to Akufo-Addo and the heart surgeon Frimpong Boateng with management lessons learned at the Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital can up and stand for the presidency. How one runs a country with absolutely no understanding of basic economics, surrounded by people practicing the economics of Adam Smith's time, is baffling to say the least. But alas, politics is a popularity contest and the lawyers are the best at painting black white so they inevitably rise to the top. It is worth noting that Akufo-Addo's wikipedia page and other biographies state he was called to the English Bar (Middle Temple). However, my search of the internet has no mention of a law school and his name cannot be found here.*
But even if this is our lot, even if we are eternally cursed with the same political parties going through our government like a revolving door, even if our state coffers have become like a street walker, screwed at every turn by the NDC, the NPP and once more by the NDC for the go around, must it be by the same men? Does neither the NPP nor NDC have any new blood? Are there no young women or men in the folds of these parties who can radically rethink our progress as a nation? Why does the old guard not step aside? Surely a lesson or two learnt in defeat can show the younguns the way to rule?
This nation deserves a better bunch of the criminals, ahem, politicians (apologies to The Dark Knight). Today, it is Akufo-Addo. Tomorrow, it will either be the ineffectual Mills or Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings, wife of ex-chairman, sorry, ex-president Rawlings. From the twenty years of Rawlings through the fourteen and counting of Mills and the thirteen since Akufo-Addo junior has been in parliament, the years have grown no kinder to our leaders. Wisdom, it seems, does not come with age. Their ten years are over; their visions depleted. And what is left are the depleted shells, dazed and confused and shouting the hollow promises of addicts looking for their next fix. We need, indeed we demand a viable alternative; for party, for president and for parliamentarian. Because if there is one arena where going green is bad for business, it is that of politics. Let’s keep the recycling to the environment. God Bless Our Homeland Ghana.
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
*************************************************
* It has since the publishing of this article been shown, through some fine piece of investigation by Dzidzorli Agbleze, that Nana Akufo-Addo did pass Part II of the transitional Trinity Term Bar Final Exam and was invited to the Middle Temple of the Inns of Courts. His name can be found in the published list of examination successes in "The Times", Friday July 2, 1971. As of today, the law school he attended is still unknown.
The Master answered: “What does the book say of a good son? 'An always dutiful son, who is a friend to his brothers, showeth the way to rule.' This also is to rule. What need to be in power?”
(Confucius, Confucius. The Sayings of Confucius. Hayes Barton Press, 478 B.C.).
Tuesday, November 3, 1992: Do you remember where you were? I do. I was 7yrs old, in Class 3. It was the first presidential election of the Fourth Republic of Ghana. It was 13 years in the making. 11 since Junior Jesus, Chairman Rawlings had completed his second coup d’etat. The election results would come to live in infamy as “The Stolen Verdict” but those were remarkable times to be alive. Oh yes, that evening, I was playing football on the little volleyball court adjacent the perpetually uncompleted Evangelical Presbyterian Church building in Dabala. This was the Volta Region. This was the World Bank…for the National Democratic Congress that is. It was the stronghold of the party formed by the newest “democrat” on the block; the soon to be President Rawlings.
The NDC had run a particularly shrewd campaign. There was the catchy “No retreat, no surrender. No curve, no bend. Straight to victory. NDC, Akatamanso” which blared from loudspeakers mounted on the newly minted Toyota pick-ups. Then there was the play on people’s superstition with fishermen suddenly catching crabs with the distinctive colors and umbrella of the NDC indelibly imprinted on their backs. The rumours spread like a harmattan fire; God and the gods had anointed the NDC. Thus when there was a funeral held behind the Post Office with a coffin for the elephant of the New Patriotic Party, it seemed only appropriate. The elephant had it coming. And that day when we all stopped play for a moment and shouted after the rickety old lady, tottering to the old JSS campus to put thumb to paper, to vote for Rawlings, we were only repeating the refrain so often sang--what I had heard from my grandfather’s Sanyo radio for 7 years, Chairman Rawlings…, Chairman Rawlings…, Chairman Rawlings. That,….and nothing else.
But this is not some trip-down-memory-lane piece. This is about a remarkable aspect of the political landscape of Ghana and of the many parties in our multi-party, very African Democracy. It is that long before the developed world started the green revolution, before the “pure water” sachets would dance freely in the putrid waters of the Korle Lagoon we were recycling. See in 1992, I heard of Rawlings, Adu Boahen, Limann, Arkaah, Mills, Mahama, even Kufuor. 18 years on and these same names ring out. Some, may they rest in peace, have since passed on. But as these parties proclaim allegiance to the Nkrumahs and Busias, so their leaders continuously descend directly from these dead presidents or the people around them. Welcome to the world of dynasties. Welcome to Political Recycling.
As I write this, Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo, the incessant chatterbox with the affected slang twang has been elected the flag bearer of the NPP beating virtually the same field he did the last time round. He is the son of Edward Akufo-Addo, member of The Big Six, and later president of Ghana in the Busia administration. Junior lost the last presidential elections as flag bearer for the NPP. But as surely as current President Atta Mills was elected again and again by the NDC in spite of losing two straight elections, so it seems, the NPP is recycling its limited resources. There is of course something to be said for brand and name recognition; it is arguably a major reason Mills won the last election. And within a party, loyalists at the top will push to get their candidate in place, helped by the specter of incumbency and inertia of the masses. So the recycling continues and the same trash gets put out over and over again.
But at what point is recycled material unusable? My dad used to say that the useful span for a man to implement his vision is at most 10 years. He is of course no expert but one would be hard pressed to find a politician who has ideas to last the first week of office let alone one hundred and twenty moons. So why do they keep coming back? My sister says it is because every rich man’s dream in Ghana is to be president. It is the ultimate status symbol. And since there really are no qualification requirements, anybody from the high school drop-out, Rawlings, through the non-practicing lawyer Kufuor to Akufo-Addo and the heart surgeon Frimpong Boateng with management lessons learned at the Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital can up and stand for the presidency. How one runs a country with absolutely no understanding of basic economics, surrounded by people practicing the economics of Adam Smith's time, is baffling to say the least. But alas, politics is a popularity contest and the lawyers are the best at painting black white so they inevitably rise to the top. It is worth noting that Akufo-Addo's wikipedia page and other biographies state he was called to the English Bar (Middle Temple). However, my search of the internet has no mention of a law school and his name cannot be found here.*
But even if this is our lot, even if we are eternally cursed with the same political parties going through our government like a revolving door, even if our state coffers have become like a street walker, screwed at every turn by the NDC, the NPP and once more by the NDC for the go around, must it be by the same men? Does neither the NPP nor NDC have any new blood? Are there no young women or men in the folds of these parties who can radically rethink our progress as a nation? Why does the old guard not step aside? Surely a lesson or two learnt in defeat can show the younguns the way to rule?
This nation deserves a better bunch of the criminals, ahem, politicians (apologies to The Dark Knight). Today, it is Akufo-Addo. Tomorrow, it will either be the ineffectual Mills or Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings, wife of ex-chairman, sorry, ex-president Rawlings. From the twenty years of Rawlings through the fourteen and counting of Mills and the thirteen since Akufo-Addo junior has been in parliament, the years have grown no kinder to our leaders. Wisdom, it seems, does not come with age. Their ten years are over; their visions depleted. And what is left are the depleted shells, dazed and confused and shouting the hollow promises of addicts looking for their next fix. We need, indeed we demand a viable alternative; for party, for president and for parliamentarian. Because if there is one arena where going green is bad for business, it is that of politics. Let’s keep the recycling to the environment. God Bless Our Homeland Ghana.
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
*************************************************
* It has since the publishing of this article been shown, through some fine piece of investigation by Dzidzorli Agbleze, that Nana Akufo-Addo did pass Part II of the transitional Trinity Term Bar Final Exam and was invited to the Middle Temple of the Inns of Courts. His name can be found in the published list of examination successes in "The Times", Friday July 2, 1971. As of today, the law school he attended is still unknown.
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