Features
Lotto Palaver
My former classmate, Kwame Korkorti, told me recently that the symptoms of modern day diseases like unemployment and redeployment can effectively be stopped using herbal treatment. He also confided in me that if herbal treatment does not prove effective, then one needs to go the lotto way, to avoid weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Korkorti indeed has eleven and a half years practical experience in how to make ends meet. Although he was famous in the 70s as the best kpanlogo dancer of the decade, he was redeployed as a civil servant not too far back.
Faced with the dilemma of where to invest his redeployment benefits, he took the biggest risk in life. He used half the amount on lotto for four consecutive weeks and lost. He then approached a man called the ‘Lotto-Crocodile’ who gave him three sure tips, which were arrived at by the dictates of a ‘timing’ plan.
The calculations could not be doubted and the ‘crocodile’ was indeed revered, even feared, for his lotto prowess. Should Korkorti invest the other half of his benefits into the “3-sure” and damn the consequences?
If he lost, it would be a disaster for him. His wife would leave him, and the landlord would serve him with a ‘quit’ notice, and he would become a ‘Son of Man.’ Moreover, his friends would call him the biggest fool in contemporary times.
Investment
To be on the safer side, he told his wife about his investment plans. She flared up and called him an idiot and a fat-head John-Bull. Korkorti, therefore, recoiled into his shell but decided to stake just ¢1,000.
On Saturday, the three numbers were there in black and white. He promptly divorced his wife for having deprived him of millions of cedis.
Ever since this episode, Korkorti has become a lotto addict, a forecaster, a lotto magician, editor-in-chief of a lotto paper and the chairman of the Sikaman Lotto Winners Association (SLWA).
I heard there is also an association called the Sikaman Lotto Losers Association (SLLA).
Although it is the unemployed who are susceptible to the lotto syndrome, the business is also the pre-occupation of people from all walks of life-business executives, secretaries of state, assemblymen, fetish priests, pastors and evangelists, beggars and koose sellers.
In fact, lotto transcends all occupations and professions in such a way that both the rich and the poor are perpetually engaged in making money out of mechanised lotto, VAG-West or Lucky Scratch whose scarcity in the metropolis does not merit the numerous adverts on television.
Some people are born lucky and can win lotto 20 times in a year. Others like myself have been born to lose.
The last time I came close to winning was in 1983 when hunger in Sikaman was quite normal to the natives. It was the era of famine when man, wife and children had only one hard coconut for supper and got ready to develop jaundice. It was at that time that I got a “2-sure” tip from a very reliable but clandestine source. The mathematical solution of the problem was arrived at by permutation and combinations, backed by calculus and lotto matrices. The two numbers were unfailing.
I told two close friends about it and they staked heavily like I did. After I had kept the tickets safely in a notebook which l locked away in a fortified drawer, I quickly began figuring out a budget based upon the amount l’d win at the week-end.
I planned to purchase one maxi bag of rice, I’ll order yams from Kasoa, beans from Kordiabe and palm-nuts from Larteh. I’ll purchase a table top fridge (since l enjoy iced water so much), a portable sound system and a diplomatic shoe. I apportioned the amounts I’ll remit to my mother, my old-man, brothers, sisters and two friends.
I became so obsessed with this lotto palaver that I could hardly sleep at night. As the week-end approached, the excitement grew so much that I began feeling quite uncomfortable.
Come 5.05 p.m. on Saturday. My heart started beating violently when the Club Beer advert came clear on the air. It was only seconds away and I would be richest man in a time of scarcity and acute hunger. I dashed for my pen and paper.
The numbers were being mentioned by a deep-throated announcer: “And now, the numbers… “My heart beat like that of a marathon runner as I wrote them down, my fingers trembling. The first three numbers did not include my “2-sure” tips. But I was reassured when the fourth was one of mine.
I was ready to leap into air when the last number called was nowhere near my other number. I had lost, and immediately started thinking about where my supper would come from.
That was the day I vowed not to stake lotto again in my life. Lotto can be a good servant and also a bad master. It has been the fertile ground for some people and the downfall of luckless others. It has made some rich and also impoverished others. It has solved problems in families and caused problems in families.
Anyhow, it is the surest way of getting rich without getting into trouble with revolutionary laws. This is because with lotto, you can become an instant millionaire without dipping long fingers into public funds.
Some people say lotto is a vice. Well I do not consider it as such, but of course, it depends on the angle from which one views the game. Although I no longer stake lotto, I’ll be the last to advise anybody against it. It may be somebody’s saviour, who knows. Moreover, it is a way of taxing people for national revenue without, realising they being taxed.
In fact they pay the tax without force, and some gain therefrom. It has also been a source of employment for many, like lotto receivers and agents.
The only problem with lotto is that it is a time-wasting venture to which most workers concentrate all their attention instead of attending to official duties.
Productivity falls, because from the Managing Director to the cleaner, everybody is either busy calculating a certain mathematical progression or discussing the potency of a ‘machine’ number.
True to it, in an eight-hour working period per day, a typical lotto addict uses two hours to think about family problems, one hour for financial worries, and three hours to forecast winning numbers. The remaining two hours are shared between working on the job and relaxing. No country progresses with such work schedule.
Perhaps, it would be better if workers rely more on dream-numbers, car numbers and
house numbers instead of machine numbers, shadows, counterparts, addition 90, turning numbers and timing plans. We should not sacrifice productivity for personal gain. We are free to work lotto after closing hours, week-ends and public holidays. All the best in your lotto palaver.
This article was first published on Saturday, October 27, 1990.
Walk into any supermarket in Accra, Kumasi, or Tamale today, and you will see the modern Ghanaian diet packaged as ‘progress.’ You will see breakfast cereals with cartoon mascots, fruit drinks that are mostly sugar and colour, and snacks promising energy and happiness in bright fonts.
Even products loaded with salt and unhealthy fats often wear a health halo labeled as fortified or natural, while the real nutritional risk is hidden in tiny print on the back. This is not just a consumer inconvenience; it is a public health blind spot. Ghana is living through a silent surge of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) like hypertension, diabetes, and stroke.
These conditions quietly drain household income and steal productive years. According to the Ghana Health Service (GHS) and World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates, NCDs are now responsible for nearly 45 per cent of all deaths in Ghana.
We cannot build a healthy nation on a food environment designed to confuse people at the point of purchase. Ghana must mandate simple front-of-pack warning labels (FOPWL) on high-sugar, high-salt, and high-fat packaged foods because consumers deserve truth at a glance, and industry must be pushed to reformulate.
Why Back-of-Pack Labels Are Not Enough
In theory, consumers can read nutrition panels. In reality, most Ghanaians shop under pressure, limited time, rising prices, and children tugging at their sleeves. The back label is a relic that requires a high cognitive load to interpret—essentially, the seller knows what is inside, but the buyer cannot easily tell.
This ‘information asymmetry’ is not fair. It is not consumer choice when the information needed to choose well is deliberately difficult to find.
Simple warning labels like the black octagons used in the Chilean Model act as a ‘stop-and-think’ nudge. They do not ban products but they simply tell the truth so people can decide.
Reshaping Our Food Environment
A generation ago, Ghana’s meals were mostly home-prepared, like kenkey and banku with soups and stews. Today, ultra-processed foods have become the norm, especially in urban areas. Children are growing up with sugary drinks and salty snacks as everyday items, not occasional treats.
If Ghana is serious about prevention, we must act where decisions are made—thus, the shelf. Warning labels protect parents from sugar traps and pressure the market to improve. When warning labels are mandatory, manufacturers start to compete to make healthier recipes to avoid the stigma of the label.
Addressing the Pushback
Industry will argue that labels create fear or that education alone is enough. However, health education is slow; labels work immediately. While the informal street food sector is a challenge, regulating pre-packaged goods is the practical starting point because the supply chain is traceable. We cannot wait until the whole system is perfect; we must start where action is feasible.
A 2026 Implementation Roadmap for Ghana
To move from talk to action, Ghana needs this 5-step plan:
- Issue mandatory regulation: The Ministry of Health, Food and Drug Authority (FDA), and Ghana Standards Authority (GSA) must define the label format and nutrient thresholds for all pre-packaged foods.
- Simple, bold symbols: Use plain language and clear symbols, such as “HIGH IN SUGAR,” designed for busy families, not experts.
- Transparent thresholds: Adopt technically defensible standards adapted to the Ghanaian diet.
- Transition and enforce: Provide a 12–18 month period for manufacturers to reformulate, followed by firm enforcement at ports and retail centers.
- National literacy campaign: The Ghana Health Service must pair labels with public messages explaining why high salt or sugar increases disease risk.
Conclusion: Truth Is Not a Luxury
Prevention is cheaper than treatment. A warning label costs little compared to the price of dialysis, stroke rehabilitation, or lifelong diabetes complications. A black octagon on a box of biscuits is more than a label; it is a shield for the health of all Ghanaians. It is time to put the truth where we can see it, right on the front.
By Abigail Amoah Sarfo
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Natives of the Kenkey Kingdom were mad with joy. They were still recovering from the hangover of the kingdom’s loss of the African Cup when their spirits were rekindled. Their great warrior, Zoom Zoom, stormed Melbourne and made sure that every Australian refused food. And that was after he had drawn contour lines on the face of their idol, Jeff Fenech.
Not only did the terrible warrior transform Old Boy Jeff’s face into a contour map useful for geography lessons, but he also accomplished the feat of retaining the much-envied super-kenkeyweight title against all odds. The warrior had not been eating hot kenkey for nothing.
The Fight Against Fenech
When Jeff Fenech bit the dust in the eighth round, I was tempted to consider if Adanko Deka could not have faced him in any twelve-rounder, title or non-title bout. Adanko has improved tremendously, and soon he would be facing Pernell Whitaker.
Sincerely, I was pessimistic about Azumah’s man, who the last time took him through twelve grueling rounds of rough boxing. I expressed my fears to my colleague Christian Abbew, alias Gbonyo, who surprisingly had total confidence that the Australian brawler would fall, predictably in Round Five.
Gbonyo gave reasons for his contention, all of which I counteracted using the age factor. Fact is, I didn’t know that contrary to the laws of nature, Azumah was all the time growing younger.
When Fenech fell briefly in round one, I asked my brother whether it was the same Fenech that fought Azumah in Las Vegas. Sure, it was the same Fenech, all out to beat Azumah before his countrymen.
But the African Professor had no intention of making the Australian a hero. As he spun round the desperate Aussie, dancing and stinging out his jabs, it was not too long before I realized that the end was near.
The Eighth Round Showdown
Two minutes into the eighth round, the African ring-master proved to the whole world that he was a true son of Bukom. He himself was cornered, but like the tough nut he is, he managed to break free before overwhelming the panting Australian with several blows that made him crash headlong.
Moments after, the referee, expressing fatherly sympathy, stopped the fight to prevent an obituary. After the ordeal, Fenech’s fairly handsome face was full of newly constructed hills, valleys, ox-bow lakes—whatever. I noticed that his nose was very tired and had a miniature volcano sitting restlessly on it. Obviously, Jeff’s wife will have to nurse that nose back to its normal shape—but I’d advise her not to use iodine, otherwise her dear husband will wail like a banshee.
Reflections on Boxing
Because Mohammed Ali was the kind of boxer kids liked, many school-going kids often entertained the wish of becoming like him. I remember one day when I told my father I wanted to become a boxer, and he advised me to first complete my education to the highest level. Then, if I decided to become a boxer and was knocked out a couple of times, I’d fall back on my degrees and make a living.
Boxing used to be interesting when bouts were fought more with the mouth and tongue than with gloves. You had to brag well, psychologically belittling your opponent before beating him up physically. Mohammed Ali became a very successful pugilist because he also managed to become a poet. He often blew his horn across America, calling himself the “pretty boxer” and opponents like Joe Frazier “the gorilla.”
Ali made a living fighting hard fists like Joe Frazier, Ken Norton, Jerry Quarry, George Foreman, Leon Spinks, and Trevor Berbick. Twice he came back from retirement to fight just for money. It was Larry Holmes who finally pensioned him, and since then the great Ali has never been himself.
The Path Ahead for Azumah
When Azumah nailed Jeff Fenech on the cross and barked almost immediately that he was after the head of Pernell Whitaker, I was happy but concerned. I would have been happier if he had announced his resignation there and then—he would have been more of a hero. Beating Fenech in Australia is more newsworthy than facing Whitaker in the States.
With Whitaker, it might be a little difficult. The “Sweet Pea” is agile, has a crooked body like a snake with diarrhea, and stands awkwardly as a southpaw. He is known for having the fastest pair of fists and the rare ability to dodge punches no matter how close they may be.
Much as I do not doubt that Azumah can take his title, I also don’t want him to retire beaten. I want him to retire as a hero and live a fuller, healthy life.
As Azumah himself said after dishing Fenech, he is now a professor and has something to show for it. Like a true professor, I think it is time he resigned and took up training young talents who could draw inspiration from him and become like him in the future.
Closing Thoughts
I must say that although ageing boxers like Larry Holmes and George Foreman are making a name for themselves, boxing is not like the Civil Service, where you can even change your age and retire at 74. Zoom Zoom has delighted the hearts of the natives, and Sikaman will forever hold him in high esteem—but only when he retires as a hero.
This article was first published on Saturday, March 7, 1992.
