Are Ghanaians Entrepreneurial?

Four business minded people and two students of law were having dinner at the Accra Imperial Peking Chinese Restaurant when this topic of discussion came up. The claim was made that Ghanaians were not entrepreneurial which is to say, we are risk averse, are unwilling/unable to get others to take risks to our benefit and/or are unwilling to move out of our comfort zones. An example was offered of the cobbler who after twenty something years still spoke of his dream of expanding into a shop but remained sat at his small table by the roadside, the only change being his graying hair.

I’m sure you know of many other instances of people setting up one room shops and grinding it out the rest of their lives or of those satisfied with being the wealthiest people in a village and no more. And then there are our students who study and pray that one day they might get a chair and table in a civil service office or a bank and obtain security for their families.

I vehemently argued that we were indeed entrepreneurial. The problem was the lack of credit from banks, the killer interest rates on loans, a society which is quick to punish failure, a government unwilling to foster the right environment for entrepreneurship and business, and a culture of filial duty which forces the individual to settle in the most secure jobs like medicine, law, engineering and the like—to wit, everything outside of the individual.

When saner minds prevail, however, true as these arguments may be, and there are current indications that some of them are increasingly false (With some mild improvement over the past years, it now takes on average seven procedures, twelve days and a cost of 20% income per capita to start a business. Our ease of doing business and starting a business still lag those of many countries with ranks of 67 and 99 however – World Bank), the Cedi stops with us. The many small businesses indeed show we are willing to take risks but the few Ghanaian owned large business and the burgeoning ranks of the unemployed college grads suggest we are unwilling to dream big or act on big dreams.

This is where we need to change and grudgingly I admit the truth of my friends’ arguments. Only recently have we begun to build an entrepreneurial culture/an enabling environment with numerous award schemes for entrepreneurs. These do not go far enough. I dream of the day when it is okay to start a business and lose money, where past business failures do not mean lack of access to future credit and are not negatives on resumes/CVs. We must teach entrepreneurship in our institutions as a viable career option. Malaysia is already reinventing itself with efforts to incorporate it into its formal curriculum. We can learn something there.

As usual, our generation is setting the pace. From IT/Software companies to education-related enterprises, there are people out there holding true to the Harvard Business Schools’ The Entrepreneurial Manager course definition of entrepreneurship as “the pursuit of opportunity without regard to resources currently controlled”. So get out there, start a business, innovate in another person’s business, hedge your risks if you must, do it after work if you must, use someone else’s money if you must, but for Ghana’s sake, do something.

An interesting research on entrepreneurship in Ghana can be found here.

Prime

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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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The Good… and The Bad

Another year, another stay in Ghana, another rendering of accounts. Let’s start with the bad:

1. Roads: There is a rapid uptick in the number of roads being repaired or expanded in Ghana. Some, like the Accra-Sogakope road, have been completed but others, like the New Hampshire highway, remain perpetually under construction. Of particular note, the Tetteh Quarshie Roundabout-Dodowa road looks rather similar to what it was a year ago. This has led not only to bone jarring bumps and car wrecking conditions but a lot of dust coating everything red and damaging our lungs.
2. Pollution: Of land, air and water. You’ve heard of the dust but what you haven’t heard are the multiple bush and other fires, and cars with bad exhausts spewing smoke into the air. I only breathe fresh air in my village. One still sees trash like (un?)pure water sachet bags on the ground and our water bodies are clogged or dead from dumping of trash and waste. And the smell, oh the smell...
3. Driving: If you take a taxi in Accra, sit at the back, put on your seat belt, and pray. From overspeeding through the bad roads, taking risky short-cuts, disrespecting road traffic laws, attempting to pass a mile of cars in a rush of oncoming traffic to riding the shoulders of roads, drivers in Ghana have invented a code that is neither safe in the least nor for the faint hearted. Why, I saw someone drive onto the shoulder of the opposite lane so one set of tires could avoid a speed bump.

The good:
1. The Changing Landscape: I now know not where Accra ends and the rest of Ghana begins. Inside and outside of the city, buildings are springing with rampant regularity along the major roads. It is turning the city into a really metropolitan one but also creating a suburban class. Maybe the economy is good after all.
2. Street naming exercise: This was started a while ago and continues. With Google map and GPS functionalities catching up or ahead of it, you can now find exactly where that wedding is held or a business is located without driving to the big tree and then finding the roasted plantain seller is not there to be asked for the rest of the directions.
3. The business climate: There has been a spur of investment in Ghana in recent years with an especial resurgence of the financial sector, among them real estate trusts, commercial and investment banks and private equities. They have provided employment to more than a few graduates, albeit at crazy work hours, and contributed to the glut of cars on our streets.
4. Rural business section of TV3 News: I was particularly gladdened to see a news station dedicate a part of the news hour to highlighting rural business successes and opportunities for financing. Being interested in business at the base of the pyramid and small scale enterprises, this is indeed, welcome news.

The unclassifiable:
I have noticed that in spite of government efforts to relocate them, street hawkers in our Drive-Thru Malls (apologies to Aisha Saaka), continue to run the roads. It is of course heartwarming to see people engaged in legitimate business but the risks of their trade—being run over by cars—and the fact that a lot of child labor goes into it as well gives me pause for concern. Did I miss something? Leave a comment, let me know.

Prime

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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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People and Places

On this stay in Ghana, three of my friends from business school visited and forced me to explore Accra more than I had previously cared to. These are some of the things I enjoyed doing. You will see some common threads of touristy things but also a yearning for the old.

1. +233 – The aptly named spot is on Ring Road central, between the Ako-Adjei interchange and the Kanda overpass. I spoke to one of the managers and learnt it was set up by three brothers for the 2010 World Cup. They brought their skills to bear so that you have a wide open space with the dark, starry African night as your ceiling, food and drinks overseen by one brother, and live Jazz music overseen by another. It is a very calming atmosphere, even romantic, and the food is affordable. On Sundays, you are treated to a live performance by Gyedu Blay-Ambolley, one of the pre-eminent Ghanaian musicians of old.
2. Chez Afrique – This East Legon joint is another place where live music and food mix at night. This one gives a blend of highlife, the smooth Ghanaian music of old, some hiplife—a blend of hip hop and highlife—and a touch of reggae from Marley to Dube. In contrast to +233 where the band is behind a glass wall, there is a dance floor where dancers interact freely with the musicians.
3. Labadi Beach Reggae Wednesdays – A GH₵5 charge will grant you access to this wide expanse of white sands and the roaring Gulf of Guinea where interspersed with the nicely decorated tables and chairs for drinks are pots of fire in the sand and an elevated stage with live reggae music spanning local creations, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley and Culture. It provides a nice mix of expatriates and locals if you are inclined to that atmosphere and you can dance your heart out into the wee hours of the dawn.
4. Buka – This is a surprisingly affordable restaurant in Osu with a nice afro feel and food from Nigeria, La Cote d’Ivoire and Ghana. With bamboo paneling, wooden décor and a large neem tree blowing a nice breeze, the only anomaly is the flat panel blaring “Whip My Hair”. You can also down your grilled tilapia and banku, jollof rice and goat stew, ampesi and kontomire stew or fufu and groundnut soup with my preferred non-alcoholic frozen fresh palm wine which you can make alcoholic by fermenting through letting it sit. Do go after 1pm however because they are woefully understaffed and the food takes long in coming.
5. Bojo Beach – The traffic to and from this haven off the Accra-Cape Coast highway is horrible, and the road from the highway to the beach is a shame. It could take you anywhere from an hour to two from the center of Accra to get to this beach. The view of Bojo will wipe those memories away. Located on a sandbar between the Gulf of Guinea and a lagoon, one has to cross a moat and the river to get to it. The cruise, access to the beach and amenities will cost you GH₵6 and you are not allowed to bring food or drinks. Not to worry, they are relatively affordable. The beach itself has thatch structures providing shade, a volleyball net, a jet ski at GH₵15 per 5min cruise and a very swimmable sea. You can stay all day long. I have been here a few times and thoroughly enjoyed them all.

These are of course only a smattering of the many enjoyable places in Ghana – my friends went to Cape Coast and Kumasi among others – but these are the places I recently found and was thrilled to see exist. Next time you are in Ghana (and you should go to Ghana), try them out.

Prime

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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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The White Man is Dead

It goes by many names; bend-down-boutique, night-mall, second-hand. Yet, the name most widely associated with used clothing in Ghana is “Oburoni w’awu” viz “the white man is dead”. It is a rather morbid play on the fact that these are discarded articles. They were, for a long time, my boutiques (from my goalkeeping jerseys to my “cambous”) and have provided employment to many a Ghanaian. And now, some of them are being banned.

Oburoni w’awu is widely popular because it is very cheap, you can still get premium brands if you have a good eye, and you usually haggled with the seller from a likely 10 times markup to a 3-5 times markup knowing you’d been had but okay with that as well. Kantamanto, in Accra, is the commercial capital of the business with stalls selling anything from belts to suits. There, many of our likely-to-be-otherwise-unemployed youth make a legitimate living.

It all comes at a cost, of course. Locally manufactured goods are very expensive; I still cannot figure out why—is labor not cheap in Ghana? Do we not have raw materials? It may well be because of high fixed costs spread over low volumes of sales. Anyways, the cheaper Oburoni w’awu crowd out Ghanaian innovation and enterprise as these cannot compete on price.

I am not a protectionist and do ascribe to the theory of comparative advantage with each nation doing what it does best. However, two trends make me indifferent or supportive of this action. There has been an upsurge in the number of Ghanaians labeling themselves with made in Ghana goods since the previous administration. This is so even though they are premium priced. Their competition is now more from “first hand” Chinese clothing than second hand western ones. A ban should thus have little, if any effect on the nascent Ghana-made clothing industry.

More importantly, the health risks as laid out in the BBC article give pause for concern. Clothing in intimate contact with such disease prone areas as the crotch should probably not be shared, especially when they are not industrially cleaned before resale. Better a healthy population.

Sadly, this means some youth will be out of work for a while but these are highly entrepreneurial spirits and they will be back on their feet. Plus, I am sure they would not want to survive on peddling disease. Ideally, they will succeed in some innovative Ghanaian enterprise so that when, in future, we say the white man is dead, it would mean less and not more dependence on his castaways.

Prime

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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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Your Donations Dollars at Work -- REACH Ghana Screenathon Results

A couple of months ago, I came here to ask for your assistance in implementing a REACH Ghana project in Glefe, Ghana. Through the help of many of you, readers, friends, family and other REACH Ghana associates, we raised close to $4,000. The official tallies are yet to be made but I am here to give you thanks for your support and to give you an unofficial account of the difference your money made.

We arrived that morning to Glefe to a water body, whose banks were filled with filth, puddles with stagnant water and trash. It was readily apparent the community needed some sort of intervention and, at the Ghana Health outpost, people were trickling in for it.

Through the course of the day, we screened approximately 200-300 children, women (including nursing and pregnant mothers), and men for malnutrition, diabetes, high blood pressure and breast cancer. Once attendees passed through the screening process, they were transferred to a final station where they were counseled on healthy eating and lifestyles and where needed, given medication supplied by Cocoa Clinic for malaria.

At this station, one hundred insecticide-treated mosquito nets were distributed to nursing mothers and pregnant women in the hopes of decreasing the incidence of childhood malaria in those homes. Parallel to this, one hundred and seventy one children and elderly people were registered for the National Health Insurance Scheme allowing them access to free healthcare and some medications for a year. REACH capped off the day by donating weighing scales, an electronic sphygmomanometer and the canopy tent under which we held activities to the health outpost.

Moving forward, REACH has initiated work with the Member of Parliament for the area, and Zoomlion, a waste management company towards establishing a waste disposal system in the community. We will be commissioning studies of the project’s effectiveness in the coming months.

As the organization looks forward to another year full of ambitious projects like the HIV/AIDS Intervention and Clean Water for Life initiatives, I would like to thank all our sponsors and ask for your continued support in making a better Ghana a reality.

For pictures of the event and other REACH news, go here and here and become a fan on facebook.

Special thanks to Maame Sampah, REACH Ghana Executive Secretary, Marie-Stella Essilfie and William Okyere Frempong, Local Operations Directors of REACH Ghana, students of the University of Ghana Medical School, volunteering members of REACH Ghana, REACH Ghana Executive and Advisory Boards, Cocoa Clinic, Citi FM and the New Ghanaian Newspaper.

Prime

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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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Imagine That

In this admittedly old news, Slate explores the recent occurrences of law students suing schools or citing them in bankruptcy lawsuits. The students argue that these schools knew there were few to no jobs available for students post graduation yet continued to encourage prospective students to apply. The schools then loaned such students large sums of money. The argument, then, is if schools advanced these loans knowing full well students would default on them, then they acted in bad faith and students should not have to repay loans.

If that sounds like the subprime mortgage crisis that plunged the US into a recession, it’s because it is pretty much like it. It also sounds like the SSNIT (Social Security and National Insurance Trust) loan scheme in Ghana. After all, the government does know the job market is bad, to put it mildly. The universities are fully aware they offer a lot of theoretical discipline and very little employable skill. Yet, they continue to exist.

And each year, thousands of graduates default on SSNIT loans that saw them through college leaving their guarantors, ordinary Ghanaians roped into the scheme, bearing the loss of retirement income among other things. And it’s easy for SSNIT to do this because the government of Ghana is the main employer and can deduct income from the cheques of guarantors.

Should the SSNIT loan scheme be shelved, university admission rates decreased and the building of new universities stopped then? I think not. Universities are in the education business. They offer an asset from which a consumer can generate income over a period of time. They, however, do not guarantee such a stream of income. They cannot, for instance, commit crimes to generate caseloads for more lawyers. I’m being facetious but the point is the onus is on the consumer to understand what such an education is worth to him and what he could possibly expect from it.

In Ghana, it is a simple case of looking around and knowing your only hope of getting a job in the first place is with a college degree. One goes to college then to make herself competitive for the next available job, not to ensure employment. But since neither your parents nor you can afford the cost of such a degree, the guaranteed SSNIT loan becomes an act of humanity from government and guarantors. Without them, the student would just find another way of paying for school or stay at home and not have that educational asset at all, for better or worse.

Who to blame, then? I vote government. Why does it exist if not to ensure prosperity of the nation? In as far as the public sector has lacked in additional job creation and has failed to create a conducive environment for private sector job growth, I blame the government. My question, therefore, is, “can we sue the government?” Come to think of it, this could make those law school loans worth it.

Prime

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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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Screenathon: REACH Ghana and Health Redistribution

Over the past year, I was involved in the founding and running of an organization, REACH Ghana, committed to improving the health-care system in Ghana and promoting equal access to quality health-care by all communities in the country. We work in partnership with stakeholders at improving health-care through sustainable projects while building local community capacity for long-term health maintenance. We need your help.

We are capping the year off with a Fundraising Screenathon at Glefe, Ghana, designed to bring together hundreds of volunteers for an extraordinary day of service and provision of health-care and health education services for this under-served community.

We are raising funds from individuals and corporate sponsors alike to spread the holiday cheer to these people and ask that you visit our webpage to donate. For less than $10, you could offer a family health insurance coverage for a year. For more on Glefe, the REACH Ghana Annual Screenathons and on REACH Ghana’s activities over the past year, please read on.

Glefe is a trading village which a University of Ghana Medical School study found has poor sanitation and high rates of malaria, gastrointestinal illnesses and other febrile diseases especially in the age-group 1-4yrs.

The Screenathon will thus provide essential education on disease prevention while testing for these and chronic problems like high blood pressure and diabetes. We will provide basic care at the event and transfer complex cases to the local health authorities ensuring care continuity. Depending on funding, we will register a limited number of inhabitants in the National Health Insurance Scheme.

REACH Ghana was founded by a group of young Ghanaians and is proudly advised by luminaries like Dr. Isabella Sagoe-Moses, National Child Health Coordinator at the Ghana Health Service, Dr. Paul Farmer, Professor of Medicine at the Harvard Medical School, and Dr. Andrew Arkutu, former Director of Country Support Team for Southern Africa of the United Nations Population Fund.

REACH Ghana has accomplished a lot in a short time viz a partnership with Kua, a US-based design brand committing a percentage of profits to REACH programs, and a Health Education Enhancement Initiative which has enabled shipment of medical education books from the US to Ghana.

In addition, REACH is in advanced stages of planning for an HIV/AIDS Intervention Project which will provide comprehensive HIV education, prevention and treatment services for young people on major university campuses and surrounding communities in Ghana. This effort meets an area of special need as it targets people between the ages of 18 and 35 who contribute almost 50% of new HIV infections in Ghana. As a first step, REACH Ghana placed HIV/AIDS awareness messages through innovative advertising on taxis in Accra earlier this year.

Finally, the Ghana based membership has been particularly active in our activities and are spearheading a project to address the high rates of HIV at Agomanya in the eastern region of Ghana through empowering women by facilitating access to foreign markets of the local bead-making community.

I encourage you to become a member of REACH Ghana by signing up here, and get involved in making a difference in Ghana.

Prime

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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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Waiting Tables to Operating Tables

You ever wonder how your physicians are paid? The first thing an immigrant to the US complains of after agonizing over the evil exchange rate regime that forces him to spend a buck fifty on a bottle of Coca Cola when he could get three bottles for that much in his country is the fact nothing is what it appears here. Only at the register do you find out your $1.50 coke actually is $1.60 with sales tax. But what really grinds our gears in the early goings is tipping. Yup, that 15-20% gratuity that says if you do not have fourteen bucks, do not go to a restaurant for a twelve dollar meal.

Tipping is annoying because it makes an otherwise simple matter complicated; it leaves the customer to determine the waiter’s salary. Why can’t the restaurateurs pay their employees and include the cost in the price of my meal? I presume this all started in some good faith—people showing their appreciation and societal status by leaving money for good service, an admirable incentive system.

But the times it seems, have changed. Tipping is now a given. Thus, even though my cab driver offers no help with luggage and is on his phone all trip, I still give him the 20% tip to elicit his only words (thank you) to me. It got me thinking about physician reimbursement. In the traditional system, physicians and hospitals are reimbursed a specific amount for providing care for a disease or condition. There isn’t much of a measure of the quality of that care involved in the payment system. The patient is left to decide which physician is better through available ratings and some other measures of outcome like surgical complications. Critics argue there is thus little incentive to improve upon current practices. Of course most doctors are not callous and most hospitals continue to find ways of providing better care for the patient. But would financial incentives push them along faster?

Earlier in this decade, there was a lot of talk about pay for performance. It was pretty much a tipping system. You provide me with medical care; I pay you depending on the quality of that care. There was some uptake but the system had its problems. Just how do you measure the impact of a physician’s actions on a complex entity like the human being? The consensus, as it now stands, is to withhold payment if processes of care (e.g. a specific question) were not followed. This is a rather cumbersome process contributing to more paperwork for doctors and less time to spend on patients.

Getting around the measurement problem partially, Medicare, the federal health insurance program ruled it would no longer cover costs for “preventable” conditions like hospital acquired infections. This made the cost of mistakes visible to hospitals and ensured they would innovate. Of course a cynic can argue how exactly a preventable condition will be ascertained but we will leave that for another discussion. It is a positive step towards inspiring even greater commitment to quality care from care providers. But it cannot end here.

Personally, I prefer a modified process analysis approach—two levels of payments; insurers to hospitals and hospitals to physicians. On the former level, using weights based on the mix of patients, a hospital can be paid based on its overall outcomes. Hospitals can then pass these on to physicians by paying for adherence to pre-determined best practices but rewarding initiative. This is not an argument for standardized care per se but a way to reward innovation.

Physicians can vie for peer respect and financial reward by coming up with improvements (which then become best practices) to existing best practices. The problem with pay for performance is not that it is a bad idea. It is that physicians are not empowered in the system. The only people who can determine where the problems with care exist, are the people on the frontlines. By incentivizing healthcare providers to reward physician quality improvements, healthcare payers can help lower costs and improve care. Of course this whole argument is based on the premise that physicians are at least partly motivated by money. In Ghana, then, we might want to think of a move from guaranteeing all to only a percentage of doctors’ salaries.

Prime
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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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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

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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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* 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.

"You Speak Such Good English" – Ten Things You Now Know About Ghana And The Ghanaian

Two weeks before I was to embark on my first trip to the US, I finally went to an internet café to find out exactly where the state of Ohio was on the map. I was to spend the next four years in Oberlin College, Oberlin, OH where I had applied and being accepted for a Bachelor of Arts program but I had no idea where it actually was. Thus when people have asked me whether I am from Africa, I often wonder if I should give them an education, offer a blunt reply or just plain ignore them. Of course I went on the internet to do my research and so could everyone else but I only did it because I needed to. So instead of a ranting piece on the lack of curiosity about the world that is exhibited by many an American, I will just go ahead and give a Ghana 101 from my perspective with the hope that someone reading this piece even by accident can help spare me a few awkward moments.

1. My English is good, yes. This is because we actually speak and learn English – the Queen’s English, that is –comprehension, grammar and composition.

2. Just like you do not speak American, we do not speak Ghanese or African. There are at least 47 different languages spoken in Ghana alone.

3. Ghana is the country. Africa is a continent, not a country. I am Ghanaian, and African, just like you are American and North American (North America, by the way, is a continent that includes Canada, Greenland, Bermuda among others).

4. No. I do not know your church member from South Africa. Enough said.

5. We live in houses in villages, towns and cities not in the bush living a primitive life in hunting/gathering tribes (apologies to random lady I met at Cleveland Cavalier’s game). In that vein, most of us first see wild life in the zoo either at home or in the US – cue student surprised to hear I saw my first elephant at a circus in New Haven and excited when I apologized and said we actually lived in huts carried by the elephants.

6. Football, as in the one kicked with the foot, not thrown all game long, is a Religion. It is to be worshiped and not derogatorily referred to as soccer.

7. No. I did not come to the US because there are no good schools in Ghana. Our educational system is screwed up, I agree, but they are not that bad. A lot of us come here for school because of the opportunities for training outside the classroom, the free education, and sometimes, because we could not get into the professional schools in Ghana e.g. medical schools.

8. Yes. My accent is sexy, I know, but your mentioning I have one is definitely not a turn-on.

9. Yes. I am a card carrying member of the LONG (League Of extraordinary Negro Gentlemen) but your knowing me is no guarantee of membership privileges.

10. And finally, I am grateful you volunteered in Ghana as a high schooler and you are welcome again. Your semester abroad, though, does not an expert make. Do not present yourself as an authority on the subject of Ghana.

To the Ghanaians out there, send me a comment on something you would like known about Ghana/the Ghanaian. To those who want to learn about us, send me a comment asking what you would like to know. Till then, cheerio.

Prime

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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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$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

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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

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This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************

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

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This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************

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

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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

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

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This is the way I choose, the destiny I pursue
To help the unfit and the fit
To treat each according to his need
*************************************************

Dreaming Reality

Why do I cry?
when I think of you,
When you bring me joy
In my dreams,
make love to me, your juices
mixing, flowing, churning blood
in my veins, down
to my heart, up
to my head
One with me and separate

Who are you?
I touch your hair,
Feel it thick through my fingers
But can’t find the roots
Deep black humus threads spanning
Time and intervening oceans

I eat the fruit.

Today I died
No. I hung myself
You never quite understood me
Did you?
First I tore my heart
Then my eyes—why ?
I hung myself on the big Mango
Won’t let blood go to my brain
Remember! You told me not to hang upside down

Why did you turn me back?
What were you doing in the dark—and—light doorway?
I long for you day and night
—And midnight
Am I dead?
I know your back, the curve
Of your hips, here they are wide
there rounded
here hollowed by child bodies
The eagles nested here
Turn your face to me!
I know you, you know
I’ve climbed your back,
Sucked your breasts

Been in you.

Father calls you my Girlfriend
—you must be the One
So why do I cry?

There’s a blue veil hiding you
I’m hungry
Tell me, am I awake?
You have left my dreams
No! I’m thinking

You, I, the world

Megbona lo—I’m coming back
Your fingers sear my skin
I need
There’s an explosion in my loins
My loins turn to jelly—I want to fall
My first steps,
Steady, steady

Thank You
—for your hand.

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
*************************************************

Why So Poor? -- Of Minds(ets) and Men

Masitala, Malawi – According to this BBC news report, William Kamkwamba woke up one day, figured he could build a windmill out of bicycle parts to supply electricity to, and pump water for his village and did it with practically no formal education. A couple of years ago my father was working in his backyard garden. He needed to dig a shallow hole and with no tool at hand, picked up a broken piece of calabash that was lying innocently by. Before he began to dig, he looked at us and said, “Improvise”. It was the first time I had heard the word. Improvise! A blessing and a curse. I did not spend years trying to understand what he meant. No, I did not even think about it after the words escaped his lips. It was just one of the big words daddy liked to use on occasion. Like the time he said “my food is always palatable”. But I did get the old boy to tell us what exactly the word meant. I thought it was pretty simple -- use one thing in place of another. I’m not so sure anymore. I’ll tell you why in a little bit.

On many occasions, I’ve had the opportunity to ask myself why the African continent is so poor. I’m sure you have too. So why are we poor? Is it because of the many years of colonialism and the slave trade or the additional years of bad leadership, coups and counter coups, civil war and strife started by men who care for nothing but themselves? Are we still lagging in development because of neocolonialism and the strangling juggernaut of the western financial institutions or because our very minds are inferior to the best of the world and our mindsets inherently retrogressive instead of progressive? The question of whether colonialism, neocolonialism, political strife and the combined exports of the World Bank and IMF has been detrimental to the continent is a moot one and has been argued on many fronts so I will only briefly examine them here.

More than a hundred years ago, the white man landed on the shores of our beloved black continent (the Dark Continent as they called it) and proceeded to rape and ravage it out of gold, cocoa, timber, the strongest men, freedom and indeed its very soul. What this did was in essence take away the foundation on which we could build our countries and our economies. The remnants became second class citizens, strangers in their own land, told where they could go and where they could not, paying taxes to foreigners and unable to buy one imported commodity without the other – I suppose the forced balanced diet kept us healthy. After that came the age of the Strong Men of Africa, the Mugabes, Nyereres, Nkrumahs, Contes and a spate of coups with stories of US and Russian involvement as the two major powers of the world sought influence in the as yet unexplored philosophy of African neocolonialism—that would come later. And when it did, it was through the multiple protectionist moves in the World Trade Organization and the extension of loan facilities from the World Bank and IMF. They attached western imports of economic philosophy and conditions that, even with the best of intents, took no account of the peculiar economic and political climates of the recipient countries. Add to this the fact that some of these conditions require loans to be disbursed in installments from western banks with all the transaction fees applicable and stipulate that consultants be hired from the donor country on development goals in the recipient and you have, by anecdotal evidence, anywhere from fifty to eighty percent of loans going back into the donor economy while drowning the poor African country further into debt. It’s not all tales of doom and gloom, of course and I am not a proponent of the “the west is keeping us down” cacophony so I will focus on the African.

The point of this piece is to look at those two essential components of human progress, the mind and mindsets of a people, and the people themselves. The last time my mother visited the US was for my graduation from college. On a stroll through Chicago, she casually remarked on how nice it would be for the white man to build some of his skyscrapers back home. Needless to say I flew off the handle with a lecture on how we had to fight our own battles, et cetera. My mother, bless her soul, is the most important person in this world to me and the one I respect the most so this example is not to cast her in a bad light. She is also a certifiably smart lady and that is the crux of the story. In Ghana, we have brains and smarts. I read animal farm, makers of civilization, John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress and Pride and Prejudice before I was out of 6th grade. The second year college classes I took in college taught little different from what I had read for three years in high school and when I pit my brains against friends with “similar” levels of education, I find out again and again how much more theory they know than I do. In fact the truth remains that one of the main reasons I came to the US for school is because I could not gain admission into medical school in Ghana. In every medical school I interviewed for in the US, there was one Ghanaian faculty member or two and even more students from Ghana, Nigeria, Kenya and the like. There are Africans excelling in most, if not all, of the greatest institutions of higher education this country. No! The African’s mind is flexible enough to bend the most esoteric theories and to propose some himself. Even with the limited educational infrastructure, the African child rises to the top. So why is it a bachelor’s degree at a third rate university outside Ghana is enough to gain you a promotion, in Ghana, over a long term employee with multiple Ghanaian degrees?

It is not the lack of firepower that is holding us back. It must be our mindsets then. From the ingrained mindset of inferiority of everything African through our unwillingness to chance innovations to the lack of support and in fact, the PhD (pull-him-down) of those entrepreneurs who try it, we have connived to drive the continent farther and farther into poverty. The problem with improvisation is that the African has been doing it for ages and has thus become complacent and comfortable. Improvisation allows us to use inferior tools albeit with extra effort for accomplishing tasks and we are just happy that way. We are not motivated to innovate. We lose sight of that intrinsic component of the word improvise, the creation of something new to replace what is. When my father first said “improvise”, it was while using a broken calabash in place of say, a hoe. There was no progress there. However, because we were just fine digging without a hoe, we had no incentive to look for better ways to dig. We missed the chance to innovate. But the buck does not end there. If necessity is indeed the mother of invention, why is there so little invention coming out of Africa? Our institutions are ill equipped to advance science, I know but that is just the beginning. Until we move beyond that essential Africanness of coping with the hard life and start looking to get into a more comfortable lifestyle, we will be unable to progress. Have you seen the travelling Ghanaian? Poor soul has oversized carry-ons, multiple oversized checked bags and some more for the children to carry. Why? Because he is bringing gifts to family members. Why? Because they are foreign goods. It is not good enough to buy these same things in Ghana. It has to have made the flight to hold any value to the Ghanaian. The Ghanaian has to have Holland prints in textiles to wear to a funeral --in effect stifling the local enterprises that seek to compete with the influx of cheaply made, overpriced foreign goods.

As much as the Ghanaian yearns after imported milk and bread however, few can afford it thus allowing room for local inventors to prosper on their minor creations. Yet, our economies suffer the ignominy of lagging behind the prosperous ones and our people suffer from lack of access to healthcare, education, employment and clean water. This is no fault of the minds and sets of minds in corpus but of the corpus itself. It is man and the men of our various countries that drive us deeper and deeper into the ground and bring our countries, which relatively flourished post-independence to their knees groveling for western handouts. The “Strong Men” of the continent began the looting process that continued in coup after coup which promised accountability but looted the state coffers while paying lip service to higher ideals. These were followed by pseudodemocracies installed to legitimize corrupt governments with the support of countries like France all so the interests of these supporting countries could continue being served at the expense of the poor African. No matter how great the demand, it is the African, like the times past when he sold his fellow man to the slave trader, who continues to sell his country out for thirty pieces of silver. And when he is finally thrown out of office by the vote, what right does he have to demand additional graciousness from a country he has so thoroughly helped to exploit and why must we pay him to relinquish power?

Many reasons are proffered for the poverty of my people. Though they all have legitimacy in and of themselves, none of them hold as much weight as the dead weight of corrupt men that bogs the continent down. From high school, when the senior student extorts sardines and milk out of the first year student so he can protect the latter from other extortionists and where a housemaster takes money from parents so as to reserve preferential treatments for their children and the headmaster takes money to admit a bad student over an excellent one, corruption runs riot in the fabric of our countries weakening the seams and breaking the bond of unity that keeps it strong. Until we change our minds(ets) and until there arises a new generation of (wo)men willing to stand tall and move our nations forward, we will forever lag in the darkness of our skins and our soils crying out as children of the dark yearning for the light of prosperity yet running back into the darkness from the pain the light causes our eyes which are so accustomed to nothingness. Long Live Africa and on men, may there be peace, and prosperity.

Prime

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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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Brain Drain -- A Dead Hero or A Live Coward

I recently watched Public Enemies, the "autobiography" of John Dillinger, that most inglorious American robber of the yesteryears. In one scene, a bank manager attempted to delay the inevitable by fiddling with his keys. Dillinger smacked him upside of the head and said matter of factly, "you can be a dead hero or a live coward". The words if ever spoken by the man, most likely, did not start with Johnny and they hold meaning for more than that banker. I thought, "surely, this is no different from the choice faced by every migrating Ghanaian doctor". But is it?

According to a Ghana Ministry of Health report, there were on average (median) 3 doctors and 35 nurses per 100,000 people in the country in 2005. That made a total of 1241 physicians and 6599 nurses in a country of more than 20 million people. There were also 791 Ghanaian trained doctors practising in countries outside Ghana (NEJM 2005;353:1810-8) and that's only those trained in Ghana. The numbers were better in 2007 with reports of 13 doctors and 92 nurses per 100,000 (NEJM 2007;356:440-3). So we have advanced a bit yes? But why exactly do physicians, with a sworn oath to serve mankind leave the hallowed shores of Chorkor and Cape Three Points for the white man's land? The reasons may surprise you.

We'll start with the obvious one -- money. See there is more money to be made in the US and UK as a health professional than in Ghana. Given the current rate of production of doctors in the US lags quite far behind the ever increasing need for them, there will always be the demand for doctors from other countries. So how much, exactly, is the Ghanaian doctor making? The statistics, as they usually are from developing nations, are murky at the least and depends on who you ask. The only information I found after scouring the web is found here. A house officer, the equivalent of a resident apparently made $700/700 cedis per month in 2007 if we are to take the word of the doctors. That's half the income an undergraduate investment bank intern makes in per week in the US. Compare this to how much a community activist turned Member of Parliament makes and you can understand the agitation of the incessantly striking doctors back home.

In a country where a plate of Selsbridge fried rice cost in the range of 4 cedis the last time I checked and does not satiate me, a man's could run through that much in ehhh, 2 months. Now let's add a wife and 2 kids and we are coming down to less than a month. And you say, the average man eats kenkey anyways so why shouldn't the doctor? You are indeed right. Include this factor, rent, utilities, count the number of extended family members our young doctor must support in addition to the mother who broke her back for him to go to school and he saves maybe 150 cedis at the outside ceteris paribus. The average income of a medical resident in the partners medical system in Boston, MA, was about $50,000 annually as of '07. That's before taxes of course, rent is much higher than in Ghana at close to $1,500 depending on where you live, average meal costs $8 so no you are not living like a king/queen. But you are living. And your dollars would go a longer way in Ghana -- or used to. So, would you rather live in Ghana and make the meager income, serving your healthcare deprived people or would you rather migrate out to serve the healthcare deprived people of the US and make much more? At least that used to be the question.

Recently, a different generation of doctors have arisen, driven by a patriotic zeal to serve their country but still, looking for the way out. Why? I had a rather disturbing facebook conversation with one of my high school mates recently. He is currently a student at the University of Ghana Medical School. He, see, was in the US on an exchange program and was looking to return for medical school and eventually, work. Why, I asked, are you, a Ghanaian, trained on my mother's tax income thinking of leaving the country when my retired mother is back there? Who will deal with her medical issues? Where is the return on her investment? The government says pay a fine if you leave immediately after training but will the fine treat her if she falls sick? I was of course not talking to someone without family in the country. He gave me a laundry list of reasons why he could not stay in the country. But before that, he summed it up in one word -- Indiscipline.

According to him, there isn't only lack of equipment with which to deliver the needed care but the available ones frequently break down and are usually not fixed. Working conditions, described as hours, available nurses, are terrible and the bureaucracy associated with the teaching and delivery of the arts and science of medicine is legendary. Add into this the general laisssez faire approach of Ghanaians and the concept of African time (Case in point, months after I'd liaised with a group of philanthropists in Boston to send books to the UGMS, I am still waiting for the reply from a vice dean of the school on whether the delivered books have been claimed from the harbour) and you get the frustrations of an idealistic young man who went into the profession with the fire and brimstone spewing prophecies of a doomsday preacher only to crash with disillusion. Of course included in those ideals is the promise of riches but one cannot deny the inherent good in him. I, as expected, berated him for expecting someone else to fix his country while he leaves to prosper in another's. He was not patriotic, I said. I, I boasted, am going back to fix the country and my education was not even subsidized by the government. But is he any less patriotic than I? Am I any better for going back? Until systemic changes are made and political will for He definitely would not be a hero for staying home. It is expected that he stays. But is he a coward for leaving? I think not.

In the following posts, look out for my thoughts on the immigrant physician-trainee experience and the generational movement with every intention of going home to help change and make a living in Ghana.


Prime

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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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