Features
A dilemma called Ghana (Part 3)
The Independence Arch
In response to the first two parts of the above heading, a young banker sent me an email expressing amazement at the narratives because he did not live through the periods and heard very scanty accounts. He was sure he did not glean much from history textbooks.
I am encouraged by such responses because, having read many books on our country’s history, I came to the sad realization that many of the authors were influenced by their political, economic, or emotional biases. Historical narratives must be devoid of these.
I recall that when I stated factually that it was not Tetteh Quarshie who introduced cocoa to this country, I was almost taken to the cleaners by some people who claimed to be descendants of Tetteh Quarshie until I referred them to the evidence. But I have always given credit to Tetteh Quarshie for the variety he brought from Fernando Po, which was bigger and contained more beans than the smaller, elongated variety in the Gold Coast at the time.
Now, General Acheampong’s UNIGOV idea was shelved with a palace coup led by General F. W. K. Akuffo, a member of the governing SMC, that kicked him out and banished him to a forlorn enclave at Asuogyaman.
General Akuffo laid out plans for a return to constitutional democracy. A new constitution was drafted, and Ghanaians looked eagerly forward to electing their own rulers.
But there was a blot on the image of our soldiers. Having tasted power, many of them became more corrupt than the civilians, issuing out cheats for essential commodities to their favourites and lackeys.
But the citizens were just fed up with the men in uniform and were biding their time for them to head back to their barracks. It was a moment in our history when respect for soldiers hit a low point. Even military uniforms were being sold in the markets. Women could openly insult the men in uniform.
Then, just a few months before the general elections, on May 15, 1979, there was an attempt to overthrow the SMC junta. Political parties were campaigning in earnest. My sympathy was for the Action Congress Party (ACP), led by Colonel Frank George Bernasco. I simply loved and respected Bernasco.
The next edition of the Daily Graphic had a picture of a certain Flt. Lt. J. J. Rawlings, who was responsible for the coup attempt. When I saw the picture, I quickly remembered that I had seen him at the Officers Mess in Accra when I went to visit a senior who was himself a military officer. I saw the lanky, almost Caucasian figure sitting at a table with dark glasses that I thought were too large for his face.
He had crossed his legs on the table and used the cutlery as drumsticks, tapping on the edge of the table. He was in mufti, so I asked my host if children of diplomats had access to their Mess. His response in a low tone was, “That guy is a Flying Officer. Won the Speedbird trophy in airmanship. He’s called Rawlings.”
The public’s reaction was mixed. What in the devil’s name was this airman up to? The nation had had more than enough of these soldiers. The soldiers wanted to perpetuate themselves in power. What was going to happen with the elections around the corner? There were too many unanswered questions. Foreign media were in a frenzy in their condemnation of the attempt to derail the march to constitutional democracy.
Rawlings and a handful of soldiers were arrested and put on trial. He admitted being solely responsible and asked the military tribunal to set his men free. I think it was by divine providence that the trial was open to the public because Rawlings spoke about what was eating the other ranks up inside.
It was on the day Rawlings and his men were going to be sentenced to death that some junior officers went to free him from the cells of the Bureau of National Investigations (BNI), and so was the launch of what came to be known as the June 4 Uprising. An Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC) was to replace the SMC.
A housecleaning exercise was launched to cleanse the rot within the Armed Forces. According to Rawlings, there was a need to go back to the barracks on a clean slate. Some former military heads of state and a few other senior members of the SMC were put to the stakes and executed by firing squad. This marked a rather harrowing epoch in our nation’s history.
Students from all walks of life took to the streets in support of the Revolution and chanted, “Let the blood flow.” Women traders who were caught selling above reasonable prices were, in some cases, stripped and whipped by overzealous revolutionaries. Makola Number One market, suspected to be a citadel of profiteering by market women, was razed to the ground. It became known as Rawlings Park, albeit unofficially.
I have devoted this write-up to the June 4 era because last Sunday was exactly 44 years since that event. Ghanaians braced themselves to endure the excesses of the moment in the hope that the elections, which the AFRC guaranteed would take place so that they could get on with their civil lives.
The AFRC set up tribunals that handed down outrageously long prison terms to some operatives of the SMC, mainly senior military officers. These trials were not held in public, though. Businessmen who were suspected of profiteering were picked up by soldiers and taken to Gondar Barracks and “drilled” military-style.
But one thing that caught my interest was what Rawlings said at his trial. He said something to the effect that the ordinary Ghanaian could hardly afford a decent meal while the senior officers were living well, and also that the military was going back to the barracks with a dent on their image. This was what resonated with the other ranks, students, and anyone with a conscience for justice.
When I asked Rawlings later where he got the courage to make such a statement, he told me, “Chief, I was terrified of the consequences of my action on May 15 after my arrest. I knew I was going to get shot after the trial. Gbɔ kuku mevɔna hɛo, so I had nothing to lose. If that happened, Ghanaians would remember me for seeking justice for the downtrodden.”
Translated, the Ewe he spoke means that a dead goat fears no knife. Since he was sure to face the firing squad, he did not need to hold anything back.
As events unfolded, Rawlings carried a nation that needed redemption along with the Revolution. Ghanaians called him “Junior Jesus” and latched onto everything he said. If there were dissenters, they did not openly express themselves, perhaps for fear of being picked up.
True to its words, the AFRC allowed the general elections to go ahead. For the second time, I voted in a general election; of course, for Bernasco and his Action Congress Party (ACP). I was, however, amazed that the ACP won all ten constituencies in the Central Region and none in any other regions.
The People’s National Party (PNP), led by Dr. Hilla Limman, won the elections, and he was eventually sworn in as President.
Rawlings and his men retired to join their units in the Armed Forces. At the handover, Rawlings told the new president that Ghana was looking up to him to deliver and that they were going back to the barracks with the humility with which they came to power.
The first major action of President Limman was to retire Rawlings and members of the AFRC, and their known operatives. The death knell of the PNP administration was thus sounded. The excuse of the government was that, as a former head of state, Rawlings could not be in a subservient position. Rawlings rejected a hundred thousand-dollar offer to go and study abroad as his retirement package, which to him would have been a sellout.
Perhaps due to the revolution, Rawlings was seen as a threat to the Limman administration, so the Military Intelligence (MI) was tasked with keeping Rawlings and Captain Kojo Tsikata in their sights.
Kojo Tsikata was blatantly trailed, and when he eventually swerved them, the MI boss, Col. Annor Odjija, was reported to have told Limman that once they lost Tsikata, his government was in trouble.
When Odjija fled to Togo, Kojo Tsikata was leaving Lome for Accra when 31st December happened.
Writer’s email address:
akofa45@yahoo.com
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia
THE state of feeling rejected, could be a terrifying experience especially for those who have become used to fame. If not properly addressed, it could lead to depression and the consequences, could be disastrous.
When you are on top of your game in whatever profession you find yourself such that you become famous, a lot of people try to associate with you. The phone never ceases to ring and one is tempted to feel loved and very important.
When a disaster strikes and the fame or the money which was the source of the attraction fades away, the circle of friends and fans begin to shrink and the phone will start to stop ringing until the call stops voting completely.
You will be shocked at how people you considered friends, will no longer be calling you or pay casual visits as they used to. You will begin to notice that messages you leave after calling them and not getting a response are not replied to and that is when you begin to know who your true friends are.
One of the most popular movie stars was an actress called Sharon Stone. In an interview with one of the media houses that was published, she spoke about how people who should have come around to encourage her in her moment of depression, shunned her. The calls stopped coming.
This is what the Bible admonishes that the arm of flesh will fail you and therefore we should put our trust in God. It could be a very frightening experience and can easily lead to depression.
Human nature being what it is, people will want to get close if things are okay. Everybody wants to associate themselves with interesting things, famous people, rich people etc for mainly selfish reasons.
We need to develop the habit of putting our trust in God and relying less on human beings. The lesson we have to take along in life is that, no one marries his or her enemy so how come people who took vows that they will love each other become so hostile to each other that they want to go their separate ways in life? Such is the reality of life.
It is therefore prudent for people to recognise that, life is full of uncertainties and so there is the need to prepare your mind for uncertainties so that when they occur, they do not disorganise your mental sanity.
A lot of people have experienced situations where people who they could have sworn will never betray their trust have disappointed them when they were through challenging moments.
If there is one thing famous people should desire, it should be the ability to identify who are true friends are. Countless stories abound regarding incidence of celebrities who have lost their shine and their wives divorcing them soon after.
It is sometimes useful as a famous or rich person to sign a prenuptial agreement before marriage to safeguard or protect yourself from any future unpleasant surprises.
People can be very pretentious these days, it goes both ways. There is this real life story where a man married a divorced wealthy woman and convinced her to sell her house so they could build a new one together, with the excuse that people are gossiping that he is being housed by a woman.
The woman agreed and they put up a new building. After a few years the man asked for a divorce, only for the woman to realise that the land on which the building was situated, was bought in the man’s name.
This can drive a person insane, if you are not mentally tough and this happens to you. When people hear that you are homeless, a lot of your so-called friends will stop calling, so that you do not become a burden on them.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
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‘But, er …. I don’t even know your name’.
‘Paul. Paul Allotey. I’m Sarah, by the way. Paul, why don’t you leave me here, since this is the last important thing I’m doing today’.
‘Okay. Now Sarah. I was just thinking. You will be here at the cafe for about an hour. By then it will be about twelve thirty. Then, you would be thinking of buying yourself some lunch, to eat here or to take home. So if you would please allow me, I will take you to one of the nicest eating places in town, and after you have sorted that one out, then I can drop you home. Just that one errand, then I won’t bother you again’.
‘You are not bothering me at all. You are being very kind to me. And I just realised you are a mind reader too. The last item on my agenda was lunch’.
‘I’m so glad I appeared at your doorstep, just in time’.
‘Okay. Now Paul, since you say the cafe is a comfortable place, let’s go in together, and you can do your work while I get my application done’.
‘Okay, Sarah. Thanks. Let’s go’.
We got back in the car at eleven forty-five.
‘So where are we going, Paul?’
‘To Royalty restaurant. It’s a twenty minute drive away’.
‘So, do you enjoy your job?’
‘Most certainly. I won’t change it, not even to be President. And am I right to say that you are preparing to enter the university?’
‘That’s my plan. I hope it works’.
‘It will, if you are determined, and disciplined. You look very much like a disciplined person’.
‘Thank you very much’.
We arrived at Royalty in twenty-five minutes, ‘You are joining me for lunch, Paul’.
‘Thanks for the honour, Sarah. But the bill is on me’.
‘Aren’t you taking on too much for one day?’
‘I never do anything that is bigger than me, Sarah’.
Over the next hour and a half, we discussed fashion, local and international politics, and sports, as we ate and relaxed. Finally, he drove me to the shop.
‘I will never forget you, Paul’.
‘I’m glad to have been helpful. But if you don’t mind, I’ll say it again, your husband is extremely lucky. You are really beautiful’.
‘Thanks again. But do you mind if I call you sometime in the future?’
‘Certainly not. Let me write it here. I will not ask for your number, for obvious reasons. But I will be looking forward to hearing from you. And hopefully, I will see you next month, when I call to drop your bill’.
‘Okay Paul. See you then’. What a lovely day, I said to myself as I opened the front door. I closed the shop and got home by seven. I went straight to the bedroom, stood in the mirror and took a good look at myself. ‘You are a very beautiful woman, Sarah. Never forget that’. I will not forget that, again.
Over the next several weeks, Martin and I had very little to do with each other. In the morning he ate his breakfast and after a shabby ‘I’m going’, he left. He came home around eight at the earliest, ate his dinner and, already soaked in beer, went off to sleep.
He spent the greater part of the weekends at the club house with his friends, playing tennis and partying. My mind was focused on furthering my education, so I didn’t complain to him, and didn’t bother to inform my parents about what was happening. I had decided that I would only take action if he lifted his hand against me again. I spent my free time reading all manner of interesting stuff on the internet, and chatting with my sister on WhatsApp.
One evening, he came home at about eight, rushed to the bedroom and rushed out. An envelope, obviously containing money, dropped out of his pocket, and I picked it up and followed him. I was going to call him and give it to him, but I noticed that there was a young woman in the car, so I went back in, counted it and put it in a drawer in the hall. He came back after some ten minutes.
‘Excuse me, I dropped an envelope containing money. You must have seen it’.
‘Yes, I saw it. Actually, I followed you, and was about to call you and hand it over to you when I realised that there was a woman in the car, so I came back in. I counted it. One thousand cedis.
‘Well let me have it. I have to be going’.
‘I will let you have it if you will tell me who the woman in the car is, and why you are going to give her that amount of money’.
‘Listen, if you waste my time, I will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Give me the money now!’
‘Here’s what we will do, Martin. I know you will give money to her anyway, so I will give it to you, if you will withdraw the threat you just issued. But I want you to know that I will be taking some steps from tomorrow. Things are getting out of hand’.
‘Okay, I’m sorry I threatened you. Can you please give me the money’. I handed it over to him, and he ran out’.
The following morning, I waited for him to finish having breakfast, and told him I wanted to have a word with him urgently.
‘You better be quick. You know I’m going to work’.
‘Well, I want to inform you that I will inform my parents, and your parents, about the situation in this house. As I said yesterday, things are getting out of hand. You spend most of your time drinking. You get drunk every evening, and through the weekend. And you are also spending your time and money on a prostitute’.
‘How dare you? One more stupid word from you …’
‘Am I lying, Martin? You have just started life, yet you are behaving like a rich, elderly man who has already seen his children through university, and can afford a life of fun. As I said, I’m going to inform our parents. Maybe your parents can straighten you out before it is too late’.
‘Look, we can talk this evening. It’s nothing like what you are saying’. He walked away, shocked.
That evening, I was expecting to have a meaningful discussion with him, but his mother called early in the evening to offer me some ‘advice’. Her son had called to say that certain developments at home were disturbing him so much that they were beginning to affect his work.
And, ‘as a loving mother to her daughter’, she was advising me to submit to my husband, and support him in prayer, and not ‘drive him from home’. Men would always be men, and she was telling me ‘from experience’ that no matter how much time Martin stayed away from home, he would always come home to me.
She had been a young wife before, so she understood the challenges I was facing. So I could be assured that if I followed her advice, all would be well. And, of course, she didn’t allow me to tell my side of the story.
Martin came home very late, and very drunk. And from the next morning, he carried on as before. With some hesitation, I called my dad and told him all that had gone on.
‘Well, my daughter. I’m not going to say “I told you so”. I was only trying to protect you. So here’s what we’ll do. Continue doing the best you can, and try not to give him any excuse to harm you, but if things continue to deteriorate, I will take you back.
A couple of days later, my cousin Dinah arrived in Accra from Brussels, having completed her medical course. With Martin’s agreement, I went to Koforidua and spent a couple of days. I spent most of the time chatting about her experiences in the US, but we also discussed my relationship with Martin, and she endorsed Dad’s decision to take action if Martin’s behaviour did not change after two weeks Elaine informed Mom and Dad. We endorsed Dad’s decision to take action if there was no change in two weeks.
Dinah returned with me to Takoradi. Her plan was to spend a couple of weeks, and return to Accra to be posted. I called Paul Allotey, and asked if he would meet her for lunch and, if possible, show her some interesting spots. Delighted, he suggested that we meet at Royalty the next day.
I told Martin about it, to remove any possibility of future disagreement over ‘going out with men’.
‘It’s fine with me’, he said, ‘if, of all the people who could show your sister round this town, you chose a borla man. Doesn’t that indicate the kind of person you are?’
‘ First of all, Martin’, I’ve spoken to him a few times, and he comes across as a decent guy, so I think it is rather unfortunate that you are writing him off when you don’t know him’.
By Ekow de Heer
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