iRegistered

I am wondering whether to continue with this post...
In view of the Electoral Commission of Ghana's decision to change the voters register to a biometric one to minimize fraud, I went to register to vote and dutifully took pictures ( with the permission of the officials at the Jack and Jill school polling station) ....but I security wiped my phone yesterday and would you believe those pictures are the only ones that are missing!?!? *slaps forehead*
:(
I have only one picture, the one I took with my digital camera, before deciding that the phone would be more convenient, smh... I was so excited about sharing the whole experience too... complete with pictures of the annoying individual who crossed the queue  (nka 3bey3 d3n na ay3 me ya,lol) and everything else. It took me a while too! There were about 30 people queued up to register. I was there from 9am to 11.45 am (by which time my carefully applied make up had melted away thanks to the heat, so I am NOT showing you my card!)
If it wasn't for the fact that I would be jailed for at least 2 weeks and/or fined, as well as not be called to the bar because I would have a criminal record, I would go and register all over again, just to provide you with pictures.
*sigh*
Let's hope the process stays generally peaceful, if we all speak out against and condemn the incidents of violence I want to believe  the politicians will behave..it's an election year! it's when they're most obedient and pliable.

There's something that I was wondering about: you are allowed to bring two voters along to vouch for you if you do not have any other means of proving you're a Ghanaian etc. But no information is taken from these 'guarantors': there is no form to fill and no particulars collected. At least I haven't seen or heard of such a form. Apparently all they have to do is show up and say they know the person and that he/she is a Ghanaian.
simple. Isn't that too simple??
I felt that was a little too easy. It should be slightly onerous so people do not vouch 'by heart', no?. And there should be some records kept, so that if an issue came up later on there would be someone to contact or hold responsible. At least that's what my little brain thought.
I've managed to get two usually apathetic people to register, and I'm very proud of myself.
Go and register too, if you haven't already....you might come in handy,lol.

What have you noticed while registering?
What irregularities have you heard about?

Sunday Sermon

On my way back from church a few weeks ago, tired of the noisy gospel songs the radio stations were playing, I found BBC on the dial and it provided some respite. I had tuned in to The Strand, and Noo Saro-Wiwa, daughter of deceased activist Ken Saro-Wiwa, was being interviewed  about her book Looking for Trans Wonderland. She spoke about her difficult relationship with Nigeria and corruption among other things. I honestly was merely passively listening, not really engaged, until the discussion took a certain turn. She started by saying that if there was a more religious country in the world than Nigeria then she hadn't been there ( she is a travel writer and I'm sure she's very well travelled). She described how people (Christians) called upon God 24 hours a day in Nigeria, in all sorts of ways in loud voices. In her book, she has made a pronouncement which the presenter of the show described as "startling",I found it thought provoking.

"The Nigerian reliance on God to change material circumstances will ultimately hold our country back more than corruption, I suspect"

She 'defended' her statement; saying that's the sense she got from some Nigerians, as a columnist could write that those who pray should do so and exorcise the demons from the crazy drivers. She went on to speak of people's own power to change things...

Today (I didn't go to church) and I find her words replaying in my head. Her statement easily applies all over Africa, where loud forms of worship are preferred and weekly church rituals are observed. And yet society is degenerating: every applicable standard is falling, "things are not the same as the old days". Massive corruption is uncovered everywhere and many places battle with violence and aggression, break down of family systems and a myriad of issues. But churches are getting bigger, religion is more widespread than ever and more people are turning to God...so why doesn't this reflect in the society? ( and I do not mean by gay bashing, it seems to be the popular way to affirm ones faith. smh)

The thing is God can materially change one's circumstances, and even a whole country's if He chooses to or perhaps if the people are truly dependent on him. But what does dependency here mean: doing nothing and waiting for Him? or doing something and calling on Him for help? or is God redundant in politics (and football matches) ??
 I find that most people would rather cry for the relief that actually do something about a situation. Any situation. It is easier to do so (unless you cannot sit still like some of us) isn't it? Who are those doing nothing? I see a few categories of people 1. those of us who do not rely on God entirely but use him as a fall back (which we think is reliance because we're desperate) 2. the lazy people who use reliance on God as an excuse to do next to nothing. 3. Those who are afraid of change/confrontation because they're not confident and use reliance on God (to rectify the situation) to mask that. this list is in no way exhaustive.

I find it impossible to accept that you do nothing to change your situation: the Bible says he who does not work will not eat. But I find it mentally exacting to draw the proverbial line: when does your own effort, ie your own 'power' (of which you have none because all you do is by Grace) ,end and God's Grace begin. The thing is that there is no line for Christians because they know that they are not relying on themselves. (we with) Carnal minds find it mind boggling.

I think a paradox applies here: work like it depends on you, but pray ceaselessly because it depends on God. Truth is most make little or no effort and expect to be rescued by God because they asked nicely. We've all done this at one point or another...right?

Anyway, I digress, I agreed with Noo that using religion to sedate the populace transforming them into an ovine docile mass who skip to commands of their leaders and only cry to God for relief is quite redundant.
 This is not  even Christian (I can't speak for Muslims, but I dare say they are 'action' people too). Truly religious people are powerful people and not docile dummies. As a Christian righting wrong is part of the job, loving rebukes should be the order of the day. Imagine what a functional country we would have if we had more practising Christians instead of church goers and the gullible being hoodwinked by charlatans standing in pulpits with titles?  Massive corruption wouldn't exist because people wouldn't steal or connive to steal, their consciences would not allow it! They would stick to their principles. Only the truly, utterly desperate would resort to such gargantuan means (lmao, couldn't resist.)
Away from politics, in the event of one of our frequent power outages a la ECG, the traffic situation would not be one of chaos and anarchy. In order to fulfil the requirements of loving your neighbour (read as fellow road user) common sense and neighbourliness would prevail. Apply to other scenarios. If we practised what was preached to us we would still be a peace loving country, but there wouldn't be as much room for the bad politician, power brokers and other hungry people to manoeuvre.
So maybe what we need is a reliance on God in order to change our circumstances, but please note not the loud cries and obvious, superficial worship we do so well. A practical reliance on God: trimming excess; not being wasteful; being truthful; standing for what is right and actually following His word, while we go about our daily activities and interact with people. Doing our part, while trusting Him to make our effort enough to cause a paradigm shift. This would require us to actually read His Word, meditate on it and seek His face and listen to His voice.

Yeah, the not-so-loud or easy reliance, the one that He must send us strength for. That kind. The kind that can transform you and change your lifestyle...the hard, difficult-to-do kind. Not the Sunday-ritualistic-back-to-your-life-during-the-week-kind-of-reliance.

Not interested? I thought so. yup.
That's why we stay in our cesspit, crying out to God, stay held back and statements like that stay true.

Happy Sunday :)

You Lazy (Intellectual) African Scum!

(had to repost this) let this INSPIRE you to ACT!

http://mindofmalaka.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/you-lazy-intellectual-african-scum/

So I got this in my email this morning…

They call the Third World the lazy man’s purview; the sluggishly slothful and languorous prefecture. In this realm people are sleepy, dreamy, torpid, lethargic, and therefore indigent—totally penniless, needy, destitute, poverty-stricken, disfavored, and impoverished. In this demesne, as they call it, there are hardly any discoveries, inventions, and innovations. Africa is the trailblazer. Some still call it “the dark continent” for the light that flickers under the tunnel is not that of hope, but an approaching train. And because countless keep waiting in the way of the train, millions die and many more remain decapitated by the day.

“It’s amazing how you all sit there and watch yourselves die,” the man next to me said. “Get up and do something about it.”

Brawny, fully bald-headed, with intense, steely eyes, he was as cold as they come. When I first discovered I was going to spend my New Year’s Eve next to him on a non-stop JetBlue flight from Los Angeles to Boston I was angst-ridden. I associate marble-shaven Caucasians with iconoclastic skin-heads, most of who are racist.

“My name is Walter,” he extended his hand as soon as I settled in my seat.

I told him mine with a precautious smile.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Zambia.”

“Zambia!” he exclaimed, “Kaunda’s country.”

“Yes,” I said, “Now Sata’s.”

“But of course,” he responded. “You just elected King Cobra as your president.”

My face lit up at the mention of Sata’s moniker. Walter smiled, and in those cold eyes I saw an amenable fellow, one of those American highbrows who shuttle between Africa and the U.S.

“I spent three years in Zambia in the 1980s,” he continued. “I wined and dined with Luke Mwananshiku, Willa Mungomba, Dr. Siteke Mwale, and many other highly intelligent Zambians.” He lowered his voice. “I was part of the IMF group that came to rip you guys off.” He smirked. “Your government put me in a million dollar mansion overlooking a shanty called Kalingalinga. From my patio I saw it all—the rich and the poor, the ailing, the dead, and the healthy.”

“Are you still with the IMF?” I asked.

“I have since moved to yet another group with similar intentions. In the next few months my colleagues and I will be in Lusaka to hypnotize the cobra. I work for the broker that has acquired a chunk of your debt. Your government owes not the World Bank, but us millions of dollars. We’ll be in Lusaka to offer your president a couple of millions and fly back with a check twenty times greater.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “King Cobra is incorruptible. He is …”

He was laughing. “Says who? Give me an African president, just one, who has not fallen for the carrot and stick.”

Quett Masire’s name popped up.

“Oh, him, well, we never got to him because he turned down the IMF and the World Bank. It was perhaps the smartest thing for him to do.”

At midnight we were airborne. The captain wished us a happy 2012 and urged us to watch the fireworks across Los Angeles.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” Walter said looking down.

From my middle seat, I took a glance and nodded admirably.

“That’s white man’s country,” he said. “We came here on Mayflower and turned Indian land into a paradise and now the most powerful nation on earth. We discovered the bulb, and built this aircraft to fly us to pleasure resorts like Lake Zambia.”

I grinned. “There is no Lake Zambia.”

He curled his lips into a smug smile. “That’s what we call your country. You guys are as stagnant as the water in the lake. We come in with our large boats and fish your minerals and your wildlife and leave morsels—crumbs. That’s your staple food, crumbs. That corn-meal you eat, that’s crumbs, the small Tilapia fish you call Kapenta is crumbs. We the Bwanas (whites) take the cat fish. I am the Bwana and you are the Muntu. I get what I want and you get what you deserve, crumbs. That’s what lazy people get—Zambians, Africans, the entire Third World.”

The smile vanished from my face.

“I see you are getting pissed off,” Walter said and lowered his voice. “You are thinking this Bwana is a racist. That’s how most Zambians respond when I tell them the truth. They go ballistic. Okay. Let’s for a moment put our skin pigmentations, this black and white crap, aside. Tell me, my friend, what is the difference between you and me?”

“There’s no difference.”

“Absolutely none,” he exclaimed. “Scientists in the Human Genome Project have proved that. It took them thirteen years to determine the complete sequence of the three billion DNA subunits. After they

were all done it was clear that 99.9% nucleotide bases were exactly the same in you and me. We are the same people. All white, Asian, Latino, and black people on this aircraft are the same.”

I gladly nodded.

“And yet I feel superior,” he smiled fatalistically. “Every white person on this plane feels superior to a black person. The white guy who picks up garbage, the homeless white trash on drugs, feels superior to you no matter his status or education. I can pick up a nincompoop from the New York streets, clean him up, and take him to Lusaka and you all be crowding around him chanting muzungu, muzungu and yet he’s a riffraff. Tell me why my angry friend.”

For a moment I was wordless.

“Please don’t blame it on slavery like the African Americans do, or colonialism, or some psychological impact or some kind of stigmatization. And don’t give me the brainwash poppycock. Give me a better answer.”

I was thinking.

He continued. “Excuse what I am about to say. Please do not take offense.”

I felt a slap of blood rush to my head and prepared for the worst.

“You my friend flying with me and all your kind are lazy,” he said. “When you rest your head on the pillow you don’t dream big. You and other so-called African intellectuals are damn lazy, each one of you. It is you, and not those poor starving people, who is the reason Africa is in such a deplorable state.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” I protested.

He was implacable. “Oh yes it is and I will say it again, you are lazy. Poor and uneducated Africans are the most hardworking people on earth. I saw them in the Lusaka markets and on the street selling merchandise. I saw them in villages toiling away. I saw women on Kafue Road crushing stones for sell and I wept. I said to myself where are the Zambian intellectuals? Are the Zambian engineers so imperceptive they cannot invent a simple stone crusher, or a simple water filter to purify well water for those poor villagers? Are you telling me that after thirty-seven years of independence your university school of engineering has not produced a scientist or an engineer who can make simple small machines for mass use? What is the school there for?”

I held my breath.

“Do you know where I found your intellectuals? They were in bars quaffing. They were at the Lusaka Golf Club, Lusaka Central Club, Lusaka Playhouse, and Lusaka Flying Club. I saw with my own eyes a bunch of alcoholic graduates. Zambian intellectuals work from eight to five and spend the evening drinking. We don’t. We reserve the evening for brainstorming.”

He looked me in the eye.

“And you flying to Boston and all of you Zambians in the Diaspora are just as lazy and apathetic to your country. You don’t care about your country and yet your very own parents, brothers and sisters are in Mtendere, Chawama, and in villages, all of them living in squalor. Many have died or are dying of neglect by you. They are dying of AIDS because you cannot come up with your own cure. You are here calling yourselves graduates, researchers and scientists and are fast at articulating your credentials once asked—oh, I have a PhD in this and that—PhD my foot!”

I was deflated.

“Wake up you all!” he exclaimed, attracting the attention of nearby passengers. “You should be busy lifting ideas, formulae, recipes, and diagrams from American manufacturing factories and sending them to your own factories. All those research findings and dissertation papers you compile should be your country’s treasure. Why do you think the Asians are a force to reckon with? They stole our ideas and turned them into their own. Look at Japan, China, India, just look at them.”

He paused. “The Bwana has spoken,” he said and grinned. “As long as you are dependent on my plane, I shall feel superior and you my friend shall remain inferior, how about that? The Chinese, Japanese, Indians, even Latinos are a notch better. You Africans are at the bottom of the totem pole.”

He tempered his voice. “Get over this white skin syndrome and begin to feel confident. Become innovative and make your own stuff for god’s sake.”

At 8 a.m. the plane touched down at Boston’s Logan International Airport. Walter reached for my hand.

“I know I was too strong, but I don’t give it a damn. I have been to Zambia and have seen too much poverty.” He pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something. “Here, read this. It was written by a friend.”

He had written only the title: “Lords of Poverty.”

Thunderstruck, I had a sinking feeling. I watched Walter walk through the airport doors to a waiting car. He had left a huge dust devil twirling in my mind, stirring up sad memories of home. I could see Zambia’s literati—the cognoscente, intelligentsia, academics, highbrows, and scholars in the places he had mentioned guzzling and talking irrelevancies. I remembered some who have since passed—how they got the highest grades in mathematics and the sciences and attained the highest education on the planet. They had been to Harvard, Oxford, Yale, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), only to leave us with not a single invention or discovery. I knew some by name and drunk with them at the Lusaka Playhouse and Central Sports.

Walter is right. It is true that since independence we have failed to nurture creativity and collective orientations. We as a nation lack a workhorse mentality and behave like 13 million civil servants dependent on a government pay cheque. We believe that development is generated 8-to-5 behind a desk wearing a tie with our degrees hanging on the wall. Such a working environment does not offer the opportunity for fellowship, the excitement of competition, and the spectacle of innovative rituals.

But the intelligentsia is not solely, or even mainly, to blame. The larger failure is due to political circumstances over which they have had little control. The past governments failed to create an environment of possibility that fosters camaraderie, rewards innovative ideas and encourages resilience. KK, Chiluba, Mwanawasa, and Banda embraced orthodox ideas and therefore failed to offer many opportunities for drawing outside the line.

I believe King Cobra’s reset has been cast in the same faculties as those of his predecessors. If today I told him that we can build our own car, he would throw me out.

“Naupena? Fuma apa.” (Are you mad? Get out of here)

Knowing well that King Cobra will not embody innovation at Walter’s level let’s begin to look for a technologically active-positive leader who can succeed him after a term or two. That way we can make our own stone crushers, water filters, water pumps, razor blades, and harvesters. Let’s dream big and make tractors, cars, and planes, or, like Walter said, forever remain inferior.

A fundamental transformation of our country from what is essentially non-innovative to a strategic superior African country requires a bold risk-taking educated leader with a triumphalist attitude and we have one in YOU. Don’t be highly strung and feel insulted by Walter. Take a moment and think about our country. Our journey from 1964 has been marked by tears. It has been an emotionally overwhelming experience. Each one of us has lost a loved one to poverty, hunger, and disease. The number of graves is catching up with the population. It’s time to change our political culture. It’s time for Zambian intellectuals to cultivate an active-positive progressive movement that will change our lives forever. Don’t be afraid or dispirited, rise to the challenge and salvage the remaining few of your beloved ones.

Field Ruwe is a US-based Zambian media practitioner and author. He is a PhD candidate with a B.A. in Mass Communication and Journalism, and an M.A. in History.

Surprise!!!

Surprise!!! I usually don't like surprises (unless it's a surprise birthday party, hint hint hint)
Neither does Ghana, apparently. Especially surprise rainfall!
Oops. No one told the rains that...truth is expected or unexpected: the value is the same!
see : http://alawyerinheelsandanapron.blogspot.com/2009/06/vultures-and-other-relatives.html (wrote that in 2009, 2 years later : ta-daaa!!)
People shared these with me, so I'm sharing with you.
Should I bet that next year, maybe sooner, I'll have some more?? (and the year after that..and after..and after) ...I'm just saying...

http://edition.myjoyonline.com/pages/news/201110/75420.php

This picture was rightly titled "y3 b3wu nti y3nda? - they're already in trouble but there's nothing they can do about it so they might as well have a pint,lol

Vultures and our other Relatives
Update (Friday, 28th October 2011):
Ironically, while I thought we were safe and sound from all flood water and damage high up on the 2nd floor -3rd,if you count the ground floor as 1-  my dad's Benz which had gone to the garage/mechanic to be sprayed or something was completely filled up with water. Who knew it had a second purpose as a cup!? smh.
Now begins the process of dismantling it, well movable parts, so it can dry out; draining it of all oils and water and then calling an electronics expert. Apparently the same fate befell Rana Motors and the other car people on that road: brand new cars all submerged *sigh*
(does that mean they'll sell them for cheap???)

As as today 11 people have lost their lives, well that's the figure that was reported (http://www.ghanabusinessnews.com/2011/10/28/eleven-deaths-recorded-in-accra-floods-%E2%80%93-nadmo/). I don't have any figures for the damage to property, doubt that anyone does.
So here in Accra, as hot as it is, we're hoping for no more rain.

Room to Let, apply with character references

I have been house...um, more like room..ok, apartment hunting. I don't have to or want to explain why I want to move out of my cosy matchbox home but I do #thatisall.
Anyway,I have realized a few things as I have been searching, let's call it Househunting 101.
Ps. I am a student and I am at that (self-imposed) age where I think I have burdened my parents enough, so I'm trying to 'get this myself'. If you have a blank cheque as your budget or your parents are happily (operative word: happily. Not grudgingly, reluctantly or why-the-hell-are-you-doing-this-ly) paying for this move for you, by all means do the opposite of what I suggest or disregard this entirely.
 If fact, don't read it at all.
Go away right now.
Now!
thank you.


House-hunting 101

1. Wipe that image from your mind. This is not a search for your dream house. It is a search for a place to lay your bones without a leaky roof, rodents and mouldy walls or overly-dodgy looking sockets. #thatisall. Lower your standards:

2.Your time will be wasted. Patience is the best virtue to cultivate. Devote an entire day to viewings if you have to. Scheduling anything else on this day may lead to disaster. The agent might have something important to do...like take a bath...because he feels hot and grubby...while you wait, getting hot and grubby. -_____-

3. Respect yourself and your pocket. If they had a flashy advertisement in the newspaper or on the internet you probably cannot afford them. Don't bother calling.
If you are stubborn do call, the better the spoken English the higher the chances that you cannot afford it.  If you hear accented, 'borga' or foreigner's English just Cut the line.
Find the local 'move' man in the neighbourhood and let him know, it will triple your chances. *EL's One Ghana for your pocket plays in the background* E.L – One Ghana (For Your Pocket) | Ghana Mixtapes

4. In Ghana the official currency is the dollar. If you didn't know, educate yourself. 'S3b3' the dirtiest looking urchin will quote his rates in dollars. You might even wonder if he has seen a dollar note before. But for all you know he's 'chopped' more dollars in rent that you have ever spent.

5.The further away you get from the place you want to be, the more affordable it is.  practical examples: Don't ask about Osu, ask about South La Estates. Forget Labone choose Apapa. What is Cantonments?? Wirelss is the place for you. Don't bother with Asylum Down, try Adabraka or Circle. East Legon sounds good doesn't it? Move along further to Adringanor or  Maajor. Did u ask about Dzoworlu? you're not listening....

6.Get used to disappointment and expect the worst. Agents will disappoint you. Home-owners will make unrealistic demands (for example: one said he has to "see my character" before he could rent out his place to me. Unfortunately I did not have a photo of it on hand.

6a. Take a photo of your character along.

7.You will probably go over your budget to get something close to what you can accept (not want, or fall in love with but simply Accept ).

8. Dress appropriately. The better you look, the greater the resistance to reductions and compromises. So it is not the time to deck yourself out in your Sunday best. Save it for Christmas.

9. The more you see the better. Contact as many people as possible, so you can shop around. Ask at church, at work, at your salon/barbering shop. Ask everyone.

2 b.This should have been higher up on the list but never mind. You will meet many characters on this journey to find a home. Some of the people you will meet will smell better than others.
Do not flinch.
Do not comment. Just don't make the mistake of sitting in an air-conditioned car with the..umm, less sweet-smelling ones.

2.c. If you drive and have a functional AC please put off your AC before picking up an agent to avoid nasal seizures. These may be accompanied/characterised by nose wrinkling, rapid eye blinking, heavy sighing etc. Better to sweat and be able to breathe than cool and gasping for air.

10. Plenty of patience is needed.
(Yes, I know that i've said that already. You need a reminder).

Still searching...can't wait for the day development will come and affordable housing will be a reality in Ghana.

Sakawa boy or iCEO??

I read a post by a friend at http://poetkowah.blogspot.com/2011/10/if-steve-jobs-was-ghanaian.html so what if Steve Jobs had been Ghanaian? It really got me thinking. Very Hard. I belong/belonged to a group called Candles-n-Hope and we used to offer kids at a nearby school extra help in school on Saturdays. I very soon realized that I did not have the patience to teach so I became the facilitator. I delivered chalk and other supplies to the 'teachers'; gave out pens and books to the students and got to sit in the classes. There I could sit back and see understanding dawn on impressionable young minds, or catch the naughty ones pinching their friends and pulling other peoples' books. One of them struck me the most. He seemed really smart and wanted to study both engineering and medicine at university...if he made it there. How difficult would it be for these kids to rise out of their circumstances without a lot of will and a great deal of help and support? too difficult. Close to impossible. The school was a short distance from my university, and these were in no way the most deprived of children... so what if Steve Jobs had been an average Ghanaian?...what if he had been one of those kids??....he would probably have been aborted to save his parents all the trouble in the first place. Simple. Ethnic issues are considered very serious and his mother might not have wanted to incur more of her father's or her family/society's wrath by keeping the pregnancy. Giving him up for adoption wouldn't really have been one of the options available to his her. Alternatively, she could have abandoned him at a hospital or orphanage and run away very fast. Or perhaps they might have had him and he would have attended a regular, local school. But the standard of education he would have received might have placed him in no position, perhaps even at a disadvantage, to be making phone calls to important people. There are many high school graduates who cannot speak good English. To top it all off Steve Jobs dropped out of school!! This would have definitely been the K.O. in Ghana, where the drop outs are usually hawking on the streets. I could go on, but the odds are that the highest height he may have risen to would have been an internet cafe attendant...where he may have tried his hands at Sakawa (lol). Prettykay sums it into 5 questions at: http://poetkowah.blogspot.com/2011/10/if-steve-jobs-was-ghanaian.html My answers to the questions of behalf of Steve-Ghana Jobs painted a bleak picture. Worst case scenario he wouldn't have been born at all but forced out way before he could survive. But maybe an indomitable will such as his might have survived through it all and still come out tops. I don't doubt it, I am just sceptical, lol. What are your own odds? Answer the questions, looking at your own circumstances. Would you have made it??

Our Rotting Apple

I woke up this morning to hear about the death of Steve Jobs. The only Apple item I own is my iPod Touch (and I intend to own a Mac in the near future) so while I didn't gnash my teeth and throw myself to the ground in an expression of grief, I was sad to hear about his passing but my reasons are slightly different from the average Apple user's. (Ghana's) Development agenda or lack of it has been on my mind lately. I look around at all aspects of our daily lives and it is immediately apparent that there's no cohesion or continuity in many things: no specific plan, no VISION. Even in the law, we have a many, many laws that affect the same subject matter but there's not much consolidation or a holistic approach. We simply take things as they come and address them piecemeal, so our 'big picture' is very fragmented, if visible at all. In education, there's no national 'plan', we sing to the tune of political manifestos, playing cheerfully with children's lives and manage to be righteously indignant when the system fails them . Even the traffic situation in big cities across the country is a manifestation of our lack of vision. We are allowing our apple to rot while others built magnificent legacies based on vision. Steve Jobs is credited with being a visionary, so I'm mourning his death for that reason. His vision, his approach and inventions revolutionized technology, perhaps even the world. ( I say perhaps because despite his wide reach, my old grandmother will only associate a Apple out of which a bite has been taken with a dustbin. Many in our world are only concerned with real fruits...for consumption...anyway..) His background wasn't exactly the prototype for a springboard to success but he had his vision. He started small and was consistent with his ideals, working towards their accomplishment. Now apple could probably charge $300 for a 32mb pendrive and it would sell out. That's a lesson we can all learn. Work hard to make your own impact in the world around you through excellence. The world needs more visionaries, we're too focused on today, on Now, forgetting that most of us, by God's Grace, will live on till Tomorrow.

WATCH THIS!

The Unwrapped gift from Filmaking FILMAKER! on Vimeo.

If this is the future of film in Ghana, then there is HOPE!! @ReEl_San_Te on twitter is responsible for this vid. ps.(kinda unrelated) Don't you just hate the term Ghallywood??? I DO! couldnt we have come up with something more original?? and whenever I hear it words like ghastly, golliwog, gag etc come to mind....

Being on a waiting list...and it's not to get the latest designer shoes or handbag...

Ghanaians ( and I think a lot of other people all over Africa and in the world) have an attitude of either rejecting anything they don't understand [with force and hostility] or making fun of it. I do it too, it's quite normal. Instead of trying to understand it or ask questions ,our first reaction (prompted by surprise, shock or ignorance or just sheer meanness) is to be silly.

That said, I don't understand something about the health care system in the UK and I want to poke a bit of fun at it .

I was sick last week, if i was back home I would have gone to see the doctor (ok, not true, I would have self-medicated, but I would have had the option to go. Even better my mother can diagnose by sight and temperature). Now when I actually wanted to see the doctor (because I was afraid someone had given me swine flu or whatever new disease they're contracting these days) I had to book an appointment. that wasn't the problem, the issue was the by the time the date came by for me to see the doctor I was fine!! I felt quite silly going to see the doctor that day, but I had some other non-urgent health matters, so I choose to discuss them

Now a friend is sick, and he might be gone before the appointment; I am considering calling an ambulance (ok , now i am exaggerating : ). funny how the doctors there are swamped with hundreds of patients everyday; and here by the time you get there you'll be fine, so not a lot for them to do...lol

I think it's great that the system is so organized; and of course everyone thinks his or her illness is the most serious, so it makes sense....but the wait time can be very long. too bad you cant book a date and postpone until u actually need it,huh? :) Should an emergency be the only way to get seen quickly by a doctor???

 hmm, but obi manso die [translation: (what say do i have) in someone's land]

ok, now i'm hitting the books...that's what i should be doing but procrastinating is so much more fun...do not follow my example

VULTURES AND OTHER RELATIVES

I am beginning to wonder why we shoo vultures away on sight, when they are our cousins. We Ghanaians have such vulture-like tendencies, that is it a wonder we have not grown feathered wings.
(Why Vultures? Because it is said that they don't build nests, but perch where they can while the sun is out. But suffer during the rainy season because they don't have a prepared place to shelter)
The rains are here again, and as usual we seem surprised. As if we didn’t know that they would come. The papers are full of complaints ...loss of property, loss of life, general disorder caused by flood waters.
Is it déjà vu? Or were the headlines the same just last year?

Ah, let me ask a question...didn’t we know or haven’t we learnt that stuffing the drains with rubbish during the dry season would worry us when the rains come [as they do every year?].
Didn’t you know when you were building on a waterway that there is a rainy season? Or the price was just right? Oh, did you say you didn’t know it was a waterway? That responsibility squarely falls on the officials who issue building permits. [Is that the town and city planning officials?] But then again, did you ask? Let us be man/woman enough to admit our folly.
But no, as usual, we’re playing out favourite game – the blame game. Which government caused it? Which agency did it? Let us blame it permanently on Kwame Nkrumah, who is dead and cannot answer and on [...in pe, setin pe...] the Ministry of Women’s and Children affairs.
Sound absurd?
Not more so than the blame game.

When the sun was scorching and the heat was sweltering we had no problems, so we didn’t search for solutions. Now it’s pouring and our tears are mixed with the rain.
I don’t want to sound mean but ‘ese moara’. If you continue to live in a flood prone area year after year in the same house, then ese woara. It is true that finding accommodation is a problem, but think about the cost of continuing to live there. What if you lose your life? [or your child’s who has no choice but to live with the silly adults]. I do not have figures to back this, but I am sure the cost of damage to property is huge; and damage not easily be erased. I am picturing broken walls; destroyed furniture [that is if it was not swept away]; stained and smelly mattresses; walls, now two-toned, the bottom half brown; carpets now trays for stones, mud, sand and whatever else the receding flood waters will leave behind.
If you dry it out or buy new ones and do nothing about your situation, ese woara.
Demolition exercises have been proposed, so maybe that will be some relief. But it will probably be short lived. I’m sure next year by this time, we will be tuned in [again] to our favourite programme, ‘what the rain has done’
Am I a doom monger?
Me, I live in a flat, on the second floor, nti ese moara.