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A tale of two citizens
There was once a rich man who used to dress in purple and fine linen, feed sumptuously and live a daily life of luxury. And there was a poor man called Lazarus so destitute that he habitually lay at the rich man’s gate in the hope of scavenging for the leftovers from the big man’s table. Besides, he was covered with sores which the rich man’s dogs came and licked at will.
This is a classic example of a case of two extremes, one having beyond measure and accustomed to extravagance, the other in extremely dire straits, acquainted with grief, and pining away in agony and misery. It is a tale of two citizens.
All over the world, this tale of two citizens is pervasive. Inequality in wealth and income is stark. Recently, a group calling itself the World Inequality Lab, produced a report that says wealth and income inequality remains pronounced across the globe. Lucas Chancel, lead author of the report says that the richest 10 per cent of the global population currently take home 52 per cent of the income. The poorest half of the global population earn just eight per cent.
And, when it comes to wealth, that is, valuable assets and items over and above income, the gap is even wider. The poorest half of the global population own just two per cent of the global total, while the richest 10 per cent own 76 per cent of all wealth.
The report concludes that “inequality is always a political choice and learning from policies implemented in other countries or at other points of time is critical to design fairer development pathways.” In other words, the state has a big role to play in bridging the huge gap.
In advanced countries, various socio-economic interventions have been adopted to alleviate the dire circumstances of the masses who involuntarily find themselves perennially getting the short end of the stick. Not so in Ghana. In our dear country, the tale of two citizens continues unabated. The population is sharply delineated into a few rich men and an uncountable number of “Lazaruses.”
I do not have much problem with those born with a silver spoon in their mouth, or private citizens who strive and move from rags to riches. My beef is with those who are draining the nation’s coffers with impunity while the economy is reeling from numerous setbacks partly caused by themselves.
Salaries are in arrears for many workers, including paltry allowances for National Service personnel. Even the chicken feed wages for graduates engaged under the Nation Builders Corps (NaBCO) scheme, are not forthcoming in terms of regularity. Yet, a certain category of Ghanaians insists on having, not just fat salaries but also numerous unjustifiable perks for unprofitable work.
A Chief Executive Officer (CEO) runs a State-Owned Enterprise (SOE) aground through huge losses yet, as part of his contract, demands certain perks such as responsibility and inconvenience allowances without any scruples. And this is in spite of all the subvention from government! What trouble or difficulty do Ghanaians cause to their personal comfort for them to be paid inconvenience allowance?
Why should they be paid responsibility allowance when they have failed time and again to prove their mettle as corporate leaders capable of producing the desired results? Most of them cannot even pay for the power generated by the Electricity Company of Ghana, (ECG), their sister SOE, thus pulling it down with their own failing establishments and contributing to ECG’s constant struggle to keep its head above water. That does not mean the ECG does not have some explanation to do for its own failure.
Our fingers are not equal in size implying we cannot all be at the same level of blessing or have an equal share of what the world has to offer. But the system we operate in Ghana which treats some CEOs as super-human, is a major cause of the huge inequality gap between the haves and have-nots.
Recently, Samson Lardy Anyenini, host of Newsfile, a current affairs programme on JOY FM, listed some of the perks of these CEOs which, in my view, are outrageous given that the organisations they manage post regular losses.
Among them are the following: a monthly clothing allowance of GH¢10,000; responsibility allowance, GH¢1,500 per month, entertainment allowance, GH¢1,500 per month, a daily inconvenience allowance of GH¢500, satellite television connection on DSTV, GH¢500 per month, as well as household allowance and utility subsidy.
The CEO is entitled to a personal vehicle loan and a monthly vehicle maintenance of GH¢1,000 in addition to an executive official vehicle with a driver. Even eyeglasses are taken care of with GH¢1,000 as well as grants for his funeral expenses. Also included are benefits such as: holiday facilities, both local and abroad, for not more than six persons, not more than three rooms and not more than five nights per year.
A housing loan of GH¢6,000 is also available in addition to home enhancement loan of GH¢2,000; travel per diem, $1,500,salary increment at 20 per cent, mandatory full medical examination abroad annually, medical care for spouse and children, medical care after retirement, retirement packages depending on the number of years served, and a host of others.
In short, everything that other Ghanaians pay out of their own pocket is taken care of by the state for the almighty CEO. And what do they have to show for all these? Losses galore, year in, year out. There is no capital structure efficiency even though the state provides guarantees for commercial loans to boost their operations.
In 2019, some SOEs posted losses totaling about six billion cedis, according to Finance Minister, Ken Ofori Atta. Knowing how badly they had performed, only 14 out of the 126 SOEs responded to the ministry’s directive to submit their annual statements that year. Besides, 47 SOEs failed to submit any at all for five years.
Between 2015 and 2019, SOEs consistently recorded negative operating margins averaging around 10 per cent due mainly to operating expenses constantly rising more than revenues coming in. And these are the people draining our resources with fat packages that do not make any sense.
The inequality report alluded to earlier, concludes that “inequality is always a political choice and learning from policies implemented in other countries or at other points of time is critical to design fairer development pathways.”In other words, the state has a big role to play in bridging the huge unjustifiable gap.
The perks enjoyed by the defaulting CEOs are just an icing on the cake, yet many do not have any cake at all to eat. There should be analogous pay for analogous qualification across board. There should be proper entry-level pay for all levels of qualification.
Besides, the working conditions of employees in the public sector should be similar to those in the private sector while fixation of wages, salaries, and rules for incentives, should be streamlined. How do you explain a situation where the CEO’s remuneration package is about 20 times better than his subordinate because he has his master’s degree, and his junior has a bachelor’s?
On what basis should just his entertainment allowance be more than twice the salary given to a bachelor’s degree holder, who is actually doing full-time work under NaBCO, but is designated as someone whose work deserves only a stipend of GH¢700?
Is it charity or employment? Where is the justice when for one class, life is an exotic bloom and boom whereas for the majority, it is gloom and doom from the womb to the tomb? A tale of two citizens, indeed!
Until the country restructures its remuneration system; unless the CEOs are compelled to adopt high standards of corporate governance and made to sacrifice, they would continue dissipating our coffers, there would never be enough money to go round, and financial stability would elude us.
“Equality is the heart and essence of democracy, freedom and justice; equality of opportunity in industry, in labour unions, schools and colleges, government, politics, and before the law. There must be no dual standards of justice, no dual rights, privileges, duties, or responsibilities of citizenship. No dual forms of freedom,” African American civil rights leader and trade unionist, Asa Philip Randolph, (1889 – 1979), said.
British judge, philosopher, and writer, Sir James Fitzjames Stephen, (1829-1894) also said: “The only shape in which equality is really connected with justice is this – justice presupposes general rules. If these general rules are to be maintained at all, it is obvious that they must be applied equally to every case which satisfies their terms.” In other words, what is good for the goose is equally good for the gander.
Education pays but the payment must not be at the expense of the poor masses. In every country where justice reigns without let, even the poorest enjoy a certain modicum of justice and fairness in the distribution of the national cake. But in certain jurisdictions like Ghana, it is a tale of two citizens.
Injustice is a symbol of tyranny. Let us return to sanity
Contact: teepeejubilee@yahoo.co.uk
By Tony Prempeh
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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