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Menstruation at high cost in Ghana?
It may sound funny, astonishing, scaring, irrelevant and surprising, but in an actual sense, this is exactly what is being considered in a country with a population of over 33.4 million Ghanaians, of whom 16.4 million are women (according to the 2021 Population Census), who cannot avoid going through the mandatory menstrual cycle, popularly referred to as ‘period’, in their lifetime. Unless otherwise, which can be attributed to sickness on the part of women and, therefore, obstructs their menstrual cycles, almost all women created by the Almighty God cannot escape menstruation.
PROTEST BY WOMEN ON HIGH TAX
On June 22, Ghanaian activists, mostly women, took to the streets of Accra for what they termed, “Don’t Tax My Period” demonstration and placard march. The protest took place against the heavy taxation of menstrual hygiene products. Organised by the Women’s Wing of the Socialist Movement of Ghana (SMG) in collaboration with some Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), Yebetumi and Obaasima, the demonstration was aimed at drawing Ghanaians and, for that matter, the government’s attention to the pervasive issue of period poverty.
The protestors, we are told, marched to parliament while it was in session, where the Speaker, the honorable Alban Sumani Bagbin, had to pause the on-going session to meet with their delegation over their demands. Astonished and amazed by the concerns of the protestors, Speaker Bagbin assured the protestors that their concerns would be given serious consideration with a positive response to their demands as early as possible.
SPEAKER’S REACTION TO TAXES
The protestors have vowed to return to the streets if taxes on menstrual hygiene products are not removed. Meanwhile, the Speaker, we are told, has described the taxes on sanitary pads as unfair. “Imposing taxes on sanitary pads was a cardinal sin,” says Speaker Bagbin in the front-page headline of the Daily Searchlight newspaper on June 23, 2023.
For the benefit of those, especially the opposite sex (men), who do not understand what ‘period poverty’ means. Let me summarize it in one sentence for them to be informed since my work as a journalist is simply to educate, inform and entertain the people about what is going on around them in the public space. ‘Period poverty’ is simply a situation in which women and girls from deprived backgrounds are too poor to afford the hygienic sanitary products needed to protect themselves during their menstruation.
POVERTY-STRICKEN RURAL COMMUNITIES
Just imagine the poverty-stricken rural communities across the country where people are finding it very difficult to make ends meet. Apart from the availability of foodstuffs from farm gates and bush meat, the people live in perpetual poverty as they cannot afford luxury items to supplement whatever they have to rely on. Even how to cater for their children’s education has been a major problem for parents and guardians. How much more the imposition of huge taxes of 12.5 per cent Value Added Tax (VAT) and 20 per cent import duty on sanitary products due to what is being termed escalating prices on the shipment of these products? Even vulnerable women and girls in the urban communities in the country are finding the cost of living very difficult to cope with the situation; how much more the rural folks?
AGI POSITION ON HIGH TAXATION
It is worthy of note that the Association of Ghana Industries (AGI) is kicking against the removal of duties on imported sanitary pads, explaining that any policy by the government that seeks to remove taxes on the imported sanitary pads at the expense of local manufacturers of the products would be very detrimental to the economy. “Our young women deserve affordable sanitary pads, but granting tax waivers on imported sanitary pads is not the way to go. We caution the government not to play to the gallery, rather stay focused on its industrial transformation agenda by incentivizing local manufacturers rather than imports,” says the AGI.
In fact, there are many, including this writer, who are highly disappointed with the standpoint and argument of the AGI, describing the association as being selfish and not sympathetic to our vulnerable women and girls in society. Some are of the opinion that they should rather urge the government to remove the taxes and give contracts to local manufacturers to produce the sanitary pads so that the government would absorb the payments and distribute them free of charge to our children in schools. Some schools of thought think that advising the government not to play to the gallery means the AGI is not sympathetic to the cause of the poor and vulnerable in society.
COUNTRIES THAT SUPPLY PADS FREELY
It is a fact that in other jurisdictions in the world, especially in Africa, such as Kenya, South Africa, Botswana and Zambia, these menstruation period products are provided free of charge to these vulnerable women and school girls, just because of their essence and the fact that the majority of them cannot simply afford these products. We are being told that since most parents in the rural areas of Ghana cannot afford these sanitary pads for their children in school, most of them have resorted to the use of unorthodox and unhygienic means such as using leaves from tree branches to protect themselves from excessive bleeding. We need not subscribe to some of these unhealthy practices to the detriment of our women and the little ones.
Let us not downplay this all-important issue because women, who are an important segment of society, need to be adored and cherished because of their vital roles, especially in the upbringing of children. They must therefore be supported in all aspects of daily life so that they can fulfill their avowed duty in society with distinction. Never should they be looked down upon in matters that will promote their welfare and enhance their progress.
PARLIAMENT SENSIBILITY ON WOMEN’S PLIGHT
Our lawmakers, led by Speaker Bagbin, have shown their sensibility to the plight of this vulnerable and underprivileged group and are ready to ensure that these high taxes are not imposed on them unduly to deprive them of their womanhood. The august parliament deserves commendation, and it is the expectation of Ghanaians that the house will live up to its promise of making life comfortable for our women and girls in society.
Just as most Ghanaians have suggested, parliament must liaise with the Executive arm of government to enact laws that will encourage the support and promotion of our local industries so that they produce these sanitary pads and other menstruation products locally, so as to discourage the importation of these products and bring down taxes to the barest minimum. In so doing, our underprivileged women and girls will be relieved of the unnecessary financial burden.
The issue of menstruation for women is certainly not negotiable because it is what God has ordained, and they must endure and go through the process without hindrance whatsoever. There should be no impediment in their way whatsoever as they go through this excruciating and painful moment in their lives. We salute you all, women, for your toil and sacrifice, which are not in vain!
By Charles Neequaye
Contact email/WhatsApp of author:
HYPERLINK “mailto:ataani2000@ yahoo.com” ataani2000@yahoo.com
0277753946/0248933366
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All over the world, it has been recognised that nations who have developed, paid attention to education and continue to do so. If we pay lip service to the development of our educational system, we might as well forget about our development in the foreseeable future.
In order for effective teaching and learning to happen, the teacher who is the centre of it all, must be well motivated. Every person working in an office, every parliamentarian, every minister or deputy minister, all the way up to the first gentleman of the land, owes his or her status to a teacher.
Unfortunately, for some strange reason, our leaders who are the decision makers, do not seem to care very much about the welfare of teachers. The leadership of the various teacher unions, also appear not to be doing their job as is expected of them, leaving the teacher who had worked for over a year without being paid, frustrated.
The lack of seriousness that is attached to teachers’ issues is very worrying. My parents were teachers so I am very passionate about teachers’ issues. Gone are the days that we used to say that teachers will get their reward in Heaven.
Now those in the teaching profession are mostly youthful and they have a different mindset from that of our parents. They do not want their reward in Heaven, they want it here on this very earth.
A teacher sees his colleague who he was academically better than in school, from the same background socially, becomes a Municipal Chief Executive (MCE), an Member of Parliament (MP) or a Government Appointee and overnight, this guy becomes wealthy and you say he the teacher, should wait for his reward in Heaven?
His going there is not guaranteed anyway, so if he or she does not make it to Heaven, then what? Promises of government after government to teachers, remain unfulfilled and so they become disillusioned and demotivated to ensure effective teaching and learning.
I read a story of a lady, who as a child was suffering from Dyslexia but her teacher gave her the needed attention to help her and this even led her teacher to run into problems with the school authorities, resulting in the loss of her job. This lady grew up and became a famous actress and won an Oscar.
She then gave the prize money attached to the award, which was three million dollars, to her teacher who put her career on the line to help her out of her dyslexia challenge as a child.
There are many such teachers in our educational system because teaching is a calling, like medicine, like nursing etc. and therefore teachers who are the first point of call before we can climb the ladder to become the engineers, the lawyers, accountants and the rest, deserve special attention.
What is even important is the crucial role they play in shaping the moral character of future leaders which is invaluable.
Let us all, especially our leaders, place a high premium on the teacher who is at the centre of our educational system and who can make or unmake our future as a nation. How do you ask a teacher to go to a place, far removed from his or her parents and for a year and above not pay any salary to him or her?
How is the teacher to survive? If the same thing was done to any of our leaders, especially the leaders of the various teacher unions, will they be happy? How do they expect the teachers to survive and also be motivated to deliver quality teaching? Funds must be found to immediately resolve their unpaid salaries do they can be in the right frame of mind to do their very precious job. The teaching profession, in my view, is number one, when ranking professions because as an advert displays “If you can read this, thank a teacher”. Let us give our teachers their due. God bless.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
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GREETINGS from Korkorti and from Kofi Owuo, alias Death-By-Poverty. When this column took a short break, the two friends summoned me. They wanted to know whether the column had gone on pension or was just on strike. I explained that the column was not on retirement and neither was it on a hunger strike. Rather, the column was of the habit of falling into coma for four weeks or thereabout every year.
Kwame Korkorti and Kofi Owuo (who is addicted to poverty and has sworn not to prosper) are two of my former classmates I cherish so much. And it was great fun to be a Nino in those days. In fact, on the first day on campus, Korkorti was bold enough to bully his own mates who tragically mistook him for a senior.
In fact, when the first-years arrived, Korkorti was one of them but quickly pretended he was in Form 2. So he began pulling the noses of his mates and brushing their faces when the real seniors were not quite in sight. It was when classes began that his victims realised the so-called nose-pulling senior was in fact their own classmate.
So Korkorti got famous for that gimmick. But his English was poor.
The English master was a tall, bombastic young man who claimed he was a former soccer star. In fact, he swore he had a magical left foot that was comparable to that of the legendary Pele. And his grandiloquence par excellence clearly distinguished him from other members of staff.
He did not quite like Korkorti because although the boy was stubborn and his head did not have a nice shape, the girls adored him. Moreover he never did his English Language assignments.
Stand up, you tall fool, the English master often ordered. Korkorti wouldn’t stand up but would just smile broadly.
“I say stand up” the teacher would bark now like a dog suffering from rabies “Get up and let me measure your stupidity.”
Korkorti would stand up this time round and yawn.
Certainly, lunchtime has been long in coming and a good yawn often relieved the young student’s stomach of gastronomic stress.
Invariably, the English guru did not like it when Korkorti yawned. For one thing, the boy opened his mouth too widely. For another, he yawned a bit too audibly and that caused laughter among his mates.
Certainly, the master must have figured out that the boy’s height was proportional to his stupidity. But there were no school rules against yawning
Merari Alomele’s
• A female student walking away from some male students
or wide mouth. In fact, there was freedom of yawning and snoring and Korkorti exercised both freedoms judiciously and democratically.
“Do you know when you yawn you look like a hungry crocodile,” the master once asked him.
“Yes sir, I am aware sir,” Korkorti confirmed and yawned again. This time he nearly swallowed the whole class. There was an uproar and the whole class reverberated in good laughter.
The English master shook his head and then nodded it like an agama lizard. This Korkorti boy was a real character, a phenomenon, a one-man thousand. Meanwhile lessons had to continue.
It was in those days when school was exciting and we often gathered and talked about girls. I had often dreamt of having a girl from Holy Child School because I had heard very saintly and curious things about them, I had learnt from a guy from Saint Augustine’s College that Holy Child girls were of a special breed, in fact a hybrid between the cultured home-bred variety and those of inner holiness. They were born of the Holy Spirit. The only thing was that they didn’t suffer under Pontius Pilate.
In short, they were angels in human form, spoke in a special way, walked with a unique and danced with heavenly steps. They were taught by Holy Nuns and so were quite different from us who had no hope of making any spirito-culturo-scholastic progress.
I confessed to Korkorti that I wanted a girl from Holy Child, not for immoral purposes but to partake of their saintly ways so that when it was time for going to heaven, Kwame Alomele could also be considered.
During vacations we met girls from Mawuli, Ola, Accra Girls, St. Roses, Wesley Girls but none from Holy Child. Then one day, Kwame Korkorti whispered into my ear that a Holy Child babe was in town and that he was sure my dreams had come true.
Korkorti organised it and we positioned at a spot, knowing the girl would traverse en route to the library or the market. After a boring period of waiting, Korkorti suddenly espied the child coming. I looked at her face and saw of an angel. What! This was the kind I always wanted. God bless my soul! This was really my chance and Korkorti had prophesied it.
“Hello Sister,” Korkorti called her when about to leave us.
The girl slowed down and looked at us. My heartbeat increased in tempo. What really was I going to tell this angel? Wouldn’t she think Korkorti was Satan and me a common red-eyed demon? I gathered courage.
“What do you want?” she asked in a sweet voice. My heart melted instantly. Spotless beauty with voice that did something to me. Good gracious!
“Eh-h, my friend says he likes you,” Korkorti to her bluntly.
At that very moment I felt as if a sledge-hammer had hit my chest with the force of a dynamite. What a blunder! What a shock! I felt dizzy instantly. My bosom friend had balked the whole agenda. Before I could recover from the shock, the girl had walked away. From that day. I never met another holy child.
In January, this year, I miraculously received a letter from an 18-year old Holy Child student who said she was my fan.
It was a nicely written letter and I enjoyed reading it. I then relived the Korkorti incident and laughed aloud to myself.
So when Korkorti and Kofi Owuo summoned me, I reminded them of the day my heart melted at the sight of the angel; that angel which disappeared before my eyes and made me go back home not crying and yet not laughing.
Proofread
Searching for the Holy Child
GREETINGS from Korkorti and from Kofi Owuo, alias Death-By-Poverty. When this column took a short break, the two friends summoned me. They wanted to know whether the column had gone on pension or was just on strike.
I explained that the column was not on retirement and neither was it on a hunger strike. Rather, the column was of the habit of falling into coma for four weeks or thereabout every year.
Kwame Korkorti and Kofi Owuo (who is addicted to poverty and has sworn not to prosper) are two of my former classmates I cherish so much. And it was great fun to be a Nino in those days. In fact, on the first day on campus, Korkorti was bold enough to bully his own mates who tragically mistook him for a senior.
In fact, when the first-years arrived, Korkorti was one of them but quickly pretended he was in Form 2. So he began pulling the noses of his mates and brushing their faces when the real seniors were not quite in sight. It was when classes began that his victims realised the so-called nose-pulling senior was in fact their own classmate
So Korkorti got famous for that gimmick. But his English was poor.
The English master was a tall, bombastic young man who claimed he was a former soccer star. In fact, he swore he had a magical left foot that was comparable to that of the legendary Pele. And his grandiloquence par excellence clearly distinguished him from other members of staff.
He did not quite like Korkorti because although the boy was stubborn and his head did not have a nice shape, the girls adored him. Moreover he never did his English Language assignments.
Stand up, you tall fool, the English master often ordered. Korkorti wouldn’t stand up but would just smile broadly.
“I say stand up” the teacher would bark now like a dog suffering from rabies “Get up and let me measure your stupidity.”
Korkorti would stand up this time round and yawn.
Certainly, lunchtime has been long in coming and a good yawn often relieved the young student’s stomach of gastronomic stress.
Invariably, the English guru did not like it when Korkorti yawned. For one thing, the boy opened his mouth too widely. For another, he yawned a bit too audibly and that caused laughter among his mates.
Certainly, the master must have figured out that the boy’s height was proportional to his stupidity. But there were no school rules against yawning or wide mouth. In fact, there was freedom of yawning and snoring and Korkorti exercised both freedoms judiciously and democratically.
“Do you know when you yawn you look like a hungry crocodile,” the master once asked him.
“Yes sir, I am aware sir,” Korkorti confirmed and yawned again. This time he nearly swallowed the whole class. There was an uproar and the whole class reverberated in good laughter.
The English master shook his head and then nodded it like an agama lizard. This Korkorti boy was a real character, a phenomenon, a one-man-thousand. Meanwhile lessons had to continue.
It was in those days when school was exciting and we often gathered and talked about girls. I had often dreamt of having a girl from Holy Child School because I had heard very saintly and curious things about them,
I had learnt from a guy from Saint Augustine’s College that Holy Child girls were of a special breed, in fact a hybrid between the cultured home-bred variety and those of inner holiness. They were born of the Holy Spirit. The only thing was that they didn’t suffer under Pontius Pilate.
In short, they were angels in human form, spoke in a special way, walked with a unique and danced with heavenly steps. They were taught by Holy Nuns and so were quite different from us who had no hope of making any spirito-culturo-scholastic progress.
I confessed to Korkorti that I wanted a girl from Holy Child, not for immoral purposes but to partake of their saintly ways so that when it was time for going to heaven, Kwame Alomele could also be considered.
During vacations we met girls from Mawuli, Ola, Accra Girls, St. Roses, Wesley Girls but none from Holy Child. Then one day, Kwame Korkorti whispered into my ear that a Holy Child babe was in town and that he was sure my dreams had come true.
Korkorti organised it and we positioned at a spot, knowing the girl would traverse en route to the library or the market. After a boring period of waiting, Korkorti suddenly espied the child coming. I looked at her face and saw of an angel. What! This was the kind I always wanted. God bless my soul! This was really my chance and Korkorti had prophesied it.
“Hello Sister,” Korkorti called her when about to leave us.
The girl slowed down and looked at us. My heartbeat increased in tempo. What really was I going to tell this angel? Wouldn’t she think Korkorti was Satan and me a common red-eyed demon? I gathered courage.
“What do you want?” she asked in a sweet voice. My heart melted instantly. Spotless beauty with voice that did something to me. Good gracious!
“Eh-h, my friend says he likes you,” Korkorti to her bluntly.
At that very moment I felt as if a sledge-hammer had hit my chest with the force of a dynamite. What a blunder! What a shock! I felt dizzy instantly. My bosom friend had balked the whole agenda. Before I could recover from the shock, the girl had walked away. From that day. I never met another holy child.
In January, this year, I miraculously received a letter from an 18-year old Holy Child student who said she was my fan. It was a nicely written letter and I enjoyed reading it. I then relived the Korkorti incident and laughed aloud to myself.
So when Korkorti and Kofi Owuo summoned me, I reminded them of the day my heart melted at the sight of the angel; that angel which disappeared before my eyes and made me go back home not crying and yet not laughing.
This article was first published on Saturday, March 18, 1996
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