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Beyond the polished glass: everyday scenes at Accra mall trotro station – Part 2

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Early signs of the night food scene begin to appear as sellers set up. A kenkey seller with a baby strapped tightly to her back stands behind a wooden table. A large silver bowl filled with a mountain of steaming kenkey sits in a plain plastic basin. Beside the kenkey is a sieve containing fried fish such as red snapper, sardines and chunks of tilapia, along with a bowl filled with red pepper.

In front of the kenkey stand, eight people form a crooked queue. Two women near the front lean in, laughing at something on a phone. The kenkey seller works quickly, un­wrapping hot kenkey from the basin while her baby cries softly.

She sways her hips to soothe the child, never pausing as she serves. She smiles at someone in the queue and says, “Customer, today the fish is fresh-fresh. Try and take two.” Her voice rises through the traffic hum; a brief moment of warmth exchanged over food and sweat. Behind them, a man with a laptop bag taps his foot and checks his watch. The others shift in line, caught between hunger and impa­tience. The kenkey seller’s back carries not only her child but the weight of the day’s labour as she continues to serve.

Next to her on the curb, a man tends to a kebab, known locally as “kyikyinga”, turning the skew­ers with practiced hands. Smoke curls upward as chicken, beef and sausage sizzle and pop over the hot coals. Every so often, he fans the grill gently, drawing glances from passersby. Some slow down, others smile or take a quick look before moving on.

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A few metres away, an immigrant family, possibly from Mali or Burki­na Faso, sits quietly on the pave­ment. The father and mother rest with plastic bowls placed in front of them as they beg in silence. Their three children, two boys around the ages of ten and thirteen and a younger girl about five, move barefoot along the sidewalk in faded, dirty clothes. They ap­proach passersby with outstretched hands, pointing to their mouths and stomachs, sometimes holding onto strangers as they plead for money.

Not far from them, a footwear seller sits low on the pavement, shoes neatly arranged on a large black polythene bag in front of him. In a black T-shirt, short rasta hair framing his face, he bends over a big bowl of palm nut soup and Banku, eating slowly, totally fo­cused on his meal despite the chaos around him.

Across the road, towards the motorway, the Trotro station echoes with the voice of the public an­nouncer: “Ashaiman, Ashaiman! Afienya, Afienya! Spintex, Spintex!” The station’s ground tells its own story: puddles of muddy water dot the station from the previous day’s down pour, littered with empty floating pure water sachets, bottle caps, corn cobs and scraps of old torn paper and filth stuck in the muddy puddle. People tiptoe care­fully around them, lifting trousers and skirts to avoid the mud and dirt.

With Eyram, the Tale Bearer

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Press freedom & the bearded goat

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journalists covering assignment

THE journalist is a hunter. He goes after human rats and grasscutters personified, matters about whom he can salt and spice and present as news. The fatter and juicier the catch, the better, because sensation is essentially our cup of tea.

Sikaman Palava
Sikaman Palava

Our job is to sell news and sell it in grand style.

Because the journalist is a hunter and is created with a special kind of nose for sniffing out news, he is usually not welcome in many places. He is seen as someone who has been born to make people uncomfortable.

The problem is that some people don’t want things written about them even if it is promotional and favourable. When it entails publishing their pictures alongside the story, they are doubly scared.

“Please, don’t use my picture. People will think I’ve got money and come for loan,” someone told me.

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Anyhow, journalists are seen as intruders, undesirables, born with plenty of okro in the mouth; maybe some also in the nose. Some of my friends are no longer too close because they fear I’d give them full coverage in the Sikaman Palava column. Ha ha ha! What a funny world!

Well, people like my Uncle, Sir Kofi Jogolo, my former classmate and born-mathematician, Kwame Korkorti, and ex-football star cum human-salamander Kofi Kokotako don’t mind featuring in the hilarious inches of this column. Kofi Owuo alias Death By Poverty is one personality who has to be mentioned in this palaver.

These are people who are going to live long, primarily because they see the world as one big ball of fun. When Kwame Korkorti was told that his dear mother was dead at home, he smiled and asked the bearer of the message whether his mother had cooked the afternoon meal before claiming she was dead. Until her death, Korkorti ate his lunch at his mother’s end.

When my Uncle Kofi Jogolo was picked and lost 1,500 dollars and a good amount of Sikaman currency, he didn’t lament the loss. Instead he was amused. In fact, he was almost glad about it, because he grinned from ear to ear, stroked his delicate moustache and congratulated the thief, adding that “He is smarter than I am.” Yeah, Jogolo is the man who employs a Swedish barber to trim his moustache.

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And when Kofi Kokotako was unemployed and was nearly hit by an articulated truck, he called the driver a fool. “The idiot should have killed me,” he said to me. “Didn’t he know I was unemployed and suffering?”

Today, Kokotako is employed as a Reverend and is not doing badly at all. Thanks to the regular silver collection.

And what about Kofi Owuo, the celebrated poor man. His wife left him not because he was poor, but because he swore in front of her that he would never prosper.

The following dawn the wife packed bag and baggage and went back to her parents and told them all about her husband’s alliance with poverty. Her parents were bewildered and called the alliance unholy. They had no option than to send back Owuo’s drinks to end the marriage.

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Kofi Owuo alias Death By Poverty did not contest the issue. He was more engrossed thinking about how to become poorer than to contest what he called a frivolous matter. The wife could go to hell, he said. These are people longevity smiles upon. Nothing worries them.

Getting back to talking about journalists. I’d say that anywhere there is journalism, the issue of press freedom is not too far away. Is the press free? That’s one question foreigners want answer to when they are on visit.

Well, journalists celebrate a yearly WORLD PRESS FREEDOM DAY to drum home the idea of press freedom as a very important thing in the practice of journalism.

This year’s was celebrated almost a fortnight ago but people didn’t see much of us because we are normally not good celebrants. We should have mounted a float to roam the entire capital, dancing asaboni to brass band music just like PTC did recently.

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Although journalists are known to be very good dancers because they walk very much, on that day, they were all busy writing. It was the Minister of Information, Mr Kofi Totobi Quakyi who saved the day by addressing a forum organised to mark the day.

He is a man I’ve always admired since his radical university days. He spoke much on press freedom, cautioning the press not to abuse the freedom granted by the Fourth Republican constitution, but to use it for the progress of society.

Well, press freedom has been defined by many journalists as the freedom to ‘write nonsense’. This definition is not quite accurate. I asked one staff reporter to define press freedom. It took him fifteen minutes to put up something.

“Press freedom is the freedom that is enjoyed by the press that enables journalists to publish or broadcast any kind of material so long as it is absolutely true, is not libelous and slanderous, and is not against the national interest.”

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I gave him eight out of 10, a straight A. I guess every journalist is old enough to know that certain things he or she writes is for or against the national interest. We certainly must guard against writing against the national interest; that is very important.

There is also the question of criticising government. The government can be criticized, so long as the criticisms are genuine and the President and his ministers are not insulted and called names. Let us criticize, but let us do it decently so that the journalistic profession can be revered, and its nobility acknowledged. We are not war mongers, are we?

One area in which journalists are not spoken well of is the complaint that they misquote people. Journalists sometimes misquote people, but in four out of five complaints it turns out that nobody is misquoted after all.

When we interview people they say things unreservedly and we publish unreservedly. When the publication is out and their friends or superiors read it and accuse them of having said too much to the press, then they start claiming they were misquoted.

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We have encountered these ‘misquotation palaver’ every now and then and reporters are usually accused of this transgression. However, when they bring out their note-books or recorders, it is realised that they wrote nothing out of the way. “Book no lie”.

My advice to people who deal with the press is that if they do not want anything written, they shouldn’t say it. What they want to say is OFF-RECORD, then of course, there is no reason to say it. When you say it, you’re taking a risk. In that instance, you can’t also claim to have been misquoted or words put into your mouth.

And it isn’t every journalist who would be circumspect in matters that are supposed to be off-record, because journalists often want to be as sensational as possible to make their stories saleable. So say just what you want to see published and you won’t later regret it and claim you were misquoted.

Well, I’m not holding brief for journalists, because a few of us are notorious for colouring our reports sometimes sand-papering the words so much that they look very bright in front of readers.

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As I once said, when the police tells one such notorious pressman that the thief stole a brown goat, the pressman would want to know whether the goat was bearded. Of course, the police would say ‘Yes’.

However, in the press report, it appears, “A gang of notorious goat-thieves were apprehended in the early hours of yesterday. In the car in which they were riding was a brownish-red goat having a long beard. Upon further examination, it was realised that the goat also had a greyish moustache.”

When the story appears, the police are naturally disturbed. A single thief turns out to be a gang of thieves. The goat also becomes a chameleon and changes colour to brownish-red. And a moustacheless goat overnight wears a greyish moustache whether you like it or not. Luckily the journalist does not add that the moustache was trimmed by a Swedish barber.

Yes, we have a few of such mischief-creating, chronically notorious journalists. But they are one in a hundred. In any case, we make the world. And we shall always do our best to make it a happy place to live in.

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 This article was first publish on Saturday, May, 20, 1995

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Mindset change: The Greater Works factor- Part 2

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When I hear of people who are of the opinion that they cannot make it in life unless they travel abroad, l become sad.  

Whenever I see on TV, news of people, that is migrants who have drowned in the Mediterranean Sea, while attempting to cross to Europe, l become filled with sadness and then anger. 

The underlying factor is desperation born out of loss of hope, in life.  When an individual tends to believe that his only hope of making it in life is to travel abroad, the risk of dying at sea, does not deter him or her. 

The role of some pastors on shaping the mindset of people, especially the youth, leaves much to be desired.  You hear them declaring on various media platforms how they can pray for you to get a visa to travel abroad, instead of encouraging them to find something to do to improve their lives as the Bible teaches that God will bless the work of their hands.

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The GREATER WORKS CONFERENCE is geared towards renewing the minds of people with a specific focus on people of African descent to rid themselves of the negative perception of lack of capacity to excel in life.  

Pastor Mensa Otabil believes that every human being, no matter the skin colour, was created in the exact image of God and therefore has the capacity to do exploits. 

The whiteman was not created in the image of God while the Blackman was created in the image of something other than God.  The Black person therefore can achieve whatever the whiteman can achieve.

 The development in terms of industrialisation that is lacking which has generated unemployment for the youth, is due to lack of effective leadership.  The lack of moral integrity in society, is what is causing the lack of job opportunities, which is as a result of corrupt acts which drive away private investment.

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A culture of inferiority complex exists which needs to be dealt with, so the African can develop the self worth necessary for personal development which can then result in capacity deployment to avhieve personal goals. 

Success in life begins with the individual’s recognition that he or she is capable of achieving the dreams he or she has conceived in his or her mind.  The Bible teaches that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the holy is understanding according to Proverbs 9:10. 

Christianity was the driving force behind the development of Europe because no society can sustain development without high moral values.  GREATER WORKS therefore is a deliberate project to shape the minds of people, especially the youth, who will become the leaders of our future, to prioritise morality in their daily lives.

This is the only way to see a massive transformation in every aspect of our lives as Ghanaians and Africans in Ghana and the rest of the continent.

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Since the inception of the GREATOR WORKS CONFERENCE, it has made a lot of impact in the lives of many people from the youth up to the senior citizens level.  I recall the testimony of a church member who was motivated and pursued higher education and became one of the youngest Chartered Accountants in this country.  Year after year, the impact of the conference has been enormous and lives in Ghana and across the continent, are being transformed. 

Black people have started regaining their self confidence and the youth have started getting into areas that previously were considered out of bounds.  At a personal level, certain ideas that some years ago, l would have not dreamt about suddenly has become realistic dreams. 

The Christian lifestyle has impacted on my children and those close to me.  Mindset change starts with one individual, then another and then gradually it spreads like a viral infection until a critical mass is attained and them a massive impact.  There is hope for the future.

By Laud Kissi-Mensah

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