Features
An SOS call from the motorway

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Driver from Accra to Tema is often thrilling when you hit the fast-track idea and get cracking down the motorway almost airborne. In six or seven minutes, you must ease up. Welcome to the Harbour City.
While decelerating, you are likely to look to the left, and there lies Ashaiman, a town of many parts. You are forced to make a slight bow in honour of one of Sikaman’s unkempt habitations. That is also where some armed robbers are born and bred, using the motorway for their practical attachment.
Some of the robbers were not born criminals, though. They began life as corn-mill attendants and as magicians, but magic is not paying these days. Armed robbery is the single most lucrative profession today after church business. So the magicians now turn to procure arms not to fight a civil war, but to make money.
Along the length of the motorway, there are various camps for the robbers, some of whom come from Baatsona area, some from Accra suburbs and of course Ashaiman, otherwise known as Hanoi. Business begins at about 8:30 p.m. on week days, 7:00pm at weekends and public holidays.
The targets are motorists. There is an overhead bridge somewhere along the motorway, from where some criminals drop boulders or blocks on cars to disconcert the drivers. It is a trick to get them to stop to find out what the hell is happening. They are then pounced upon and robbed.
Cars that break down are rather easy prey. The robbers just walk leisurely to the driver and demand all the money on him, his briefcase, watch, shoes, shirt, trousers and all. If you are not careful, you can end up at home like a mad man completely naked.
That is, if you are not lucky and they ask you to hand over your “supporter” as well.
Well, if you are a lady, you can well imagine your fate.
The problem with the motorway is that when you break down at night, the palaver is between you and your God. No motorist is prepared to stop and help you because everyone is thinking you might be an armed robber posing as a motorist in distress.
On February 1, 2001, I was cruising comfortably on the motorway in my Concord, listening to some good music on Atlantis FM, wishing to get home early to catch some rest. Perched on the front seat beside me was a lady colleague I lifted. She usually alights at the end of the motorway.
I was enjoying the ride and it was about 5:50 p.m. when the Concord developed a fault with all the jerks and power off. I veered into the pedestrian lane and realised I was really in for it. Luckily, a taxi had also developed a fault and a mechanic was fixing it up. He came up to me and asked to help. I opened the bonnet.
He did what he could and asked me to start the engine. It kicked into life and I was delighted. “What’s my charge?
He picked up the money and I zoomed away. 100 metres away, the car grounded to a halt again. I asked the lady to stay by the car; I’ll do a quick dash to fetch the mechanic.
“I’m afraid,” she said. “What of if armed men come here?”
Okay, I’ll stay here. Walk briskly and get the mechanic down. He took the money and did no job. Drag him right here.”
She walked back to get the mechanic. It was about 6:30 pm and she wasn’t getting back early enough with the guy. I was worried. I started walking after her to see what the hell was happening. I saw her from the distance returning alone. “Jesus Christ of Nazareth,” I said to myself.
I didn’t know I was such a good Christian. The word “Jesus Christ came naturally to me, the only one who could save me.
The lady and I now started waving down speeding motorists and none stopped. One attempted to stop, but I guess he decided otherwise when he saw my height and frame.
I am six feet tall and I look like a semi-professional heavyweight before. Actually I can deliver a slugger when it comes to it, but that has never been my style. I’m quite sure the man who decided to stop but sped on thought I was a very dangerous criminal playing a trick.
The lady and myself kept begging for anybody to stop and just listen to what we had to say. For about one hour, we were at it. At a certain point, I wanted to kneel down so that passing motorists would not be terrified at my height. Of course, nothing worked so far.
I had to seek the face of God. Earlier, I had alerted Jesus Christ that an SOS call was in the pipeline. I started praying silently to myself. The time was about 7:45pm. Time was running out. “Oh Jesus, it is only you who can deliver me, Kwame Alomele and this lady from evil. If you don’t do it, who else can? Our trust is all in you….”
It is a long time since I attended church, and I wondered whether Jesus was listening to me. “Jesus, you came to redeem sinners, not the righteous,”
I reminded Him, “Please, save me.” And He did.
A car sped by but miraculously screeched to a halt about 100 metres away “Oh glory! Oh glory!” I intoned.
A man came out. “I think I know Are you not the writer?”
Yes sir. My car broke down here and none is stopping to help us out. What’s your name sir?”
That’s not necessary now. I’ll get you to Tema and then we can find a mechanic or someone to tow your car.”
I picked up my briefcase, removed the tape and locked the power windows. We hopped into his car and off we went, leaving the Concord behind. Even if they removed the windscreens, it could be better than going home naked.
It was about 9:00 pm when we tracked down my mechanic and by the time I finally got home it was 11:00 am. A day well spent on a motorway that had no police patrol, no security of my sort, to phone system, nothing. That is why the armed robbers are having a field day on Ghana’s beloved motorway.
Features
The eye is indeed the lamp of the body
There is a scripture that is found in Matthew 6:22 which says that the lamp of the body is the eye and therefore the eye must see well to enable the body to get to its destination.
What most people do not know is that behind the scenes, there is a strong interaction between the eyes and the brain before a picture becomes clear. The state of mind therefore is crucial to the eye seeing clearly to enable the body to process accurately the information the eyes are feeding it for proper identification of what the eyes see.
This is similar to how a person behaves i.e. what informs the decisions that forms in the mind that results in the actions that a person performs. The actions of a person does not therefore just happen but is as a result of things that went on in the mind, which in most cases resulted from information passed on to it by the eyes either consciously or unconsciously.
There are so many issues that affect our society which makes one wonder, whether the people who displayed such acts were created by someone or something other than God.
How can a person see a beach created by God with beautiful beaches and fresh air blowing all around, decides to defecate at such places, and therefore desecrate the environment? lt is simply mind boggling?
When other people in other countries who dwell on the coast are using their beaches for tourist attraction purposes as a means of livelihood and also to promote environmental health, some people living around our beaches, have turned them into rubbish dumping sites and toilets.
It is a very sad situation and the earlier we did something about it the better. It is a national emergency that must engage the attention, first of the government and then the citizenry, where religious bodies and NGOs must play a critical role.
The things we focus on in this country, needs to be addressed. Our minds which processes the info the eyes send to the brain, must be disciplined. There are certain behaviours that a disciplined mind can ignore even when the eye has provided info to the brain. One of the things a disciplined mind does, is the avoidance of a second look, which is critical for every person who wants to avoid adultery or fornication.
Once a person is not blind, he will see things. The boobs, the ‘shankus’, the coca cola shapes, the light complexioned, the dark complexioned etc. the eyes will definitely see and report same to the brain. What the brain or the mind decides to do or instructs the eye to do is the issue.
It can decide to instruct the eye to take a second look and let the mind drool over it or say ignore it and that will be the end.
If the mind becomes trained to focus on environmental issues like clean environment, the eyes will automatically be reporting on insanitary conditions to the brain as and when it sees them. The mind will pay attention to such data and begin to process them and to identify solutions to deal with the reported insanitary conditions.
There is the need to encourage citizens to train the mind to focus on the right thing so that in tandem with the eyes, focus will be maintained. When the mind is so trained, it communicates with the eye to also focus on hood things that helps in both are spiritual life and our secular lives, for indeed the eyes are the lamp of the body. God bless.
Features
Arming the Sikaman journalists to the teeth

THE relationship between New Times Corporation (NTC) and African Concrete Productions (ACP) is based entirely on matters of the stomach. Each depends on the other in a dietary symbiosis, reinforced by the close proximity of each other
At lunchtime, you’d see a particular set of Times workers marching regimentally to ACP to face the wall. You’d think they are soldiers. It has long been declared that the company manufactures the best kokonte in the Greater Accra Region. ACP is, therefore, a culinary haven for those NTC kokonte fans, both male and female.
As the NTC kokonte warriors cross the border to ACP, you’d see some ACP banku fanatics dancing joyously to NTC. They are lucky folks because they do not have to obtain visa to enter into ‘Times’ to attack the balls of banku with precision and accuracy. They also claim that the lightsoup at ‘Times’ is arguably the best in West Africa.
So the relationship between the two entities was quite cordial and based practically on stomach palaver, until ACP workers staged an industrial revolution, whereupon the managing director, accountant and estate manager were allegedly stripped naked and locked up in a room. An insurgency had began in earnest.
An ACP worker came to ‘Times’, this time not to eat banku and okro. He had come to inform newsmen that juicy stuff awaited them at ACP. It could make a front page lead story.
A camerawoman and a female reporter were accordingly dispatched to go and bring back news, juicy news as juicy as kokonte and groundnut soup.
I was driving to work when I espied the familiar camerawoman clicking away outside the ACP premises. I didn’t see any ‘Times’ reporter but angry workers who were on the verge of getting violent. I slowed down and the driver behind blew his horn at me like a lunatic. I drove on.
Later, I heard the reporter and camerawoman were harassed and brutalised. The report came,. “The camerawoman, Mrs Salome Adonu-Agbottah and reporter Mrs Doreen Allotey, in an attempt to retrieve the camera which the workers had seized from them were severely beaten. They were manhandled and almost pushed into a big gutter opposite the company’s premises.
BRUISES
“….The camerawoman had bruises on her body, her hand bag was destroyed and the money in it stolen. Mrs Allotey’s watch was also snatched and her feet stamped on.”
Luckily, it was not her nose that was trampled upon. She has a beautiful nose.
The bad news was received with extreme sorrow. If the victims had been men, it would not have seemed too bad. But to brutalise women is just unacceptable. The New Times Corporation has not stopped mourning the incident which has been condemned in many circles.
Some people keep asking me why Times sent females to cover a potentially violent demonstration. I tell them they might as well ask why CNN’s amazon, Christina Amanpour, is assigned to cover the carnage in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Rwanda. She is always on the frontline in jeans and jacket.
Journalism is a potentially hazardous profession, and once you accept to study and practise the trade, you might as well bone up to face any assignment as long as your superiors feel you are capable of handling it or you have demonstrated the capacity to handle it. Both males and females can be assigned anywhere, anytime just like policemen and women are assigned.
The only difference between cops and pressmen is that the latter are armed only with a pen and the former with a gun. The question is should newsmen also arm themselves so that in any event of an assault they would not be found wanting in self-defence? They can’t adequately defend themselves with a pen and a jotter. A pen cannot even disfigure an opponent’s upper lip.
Photo-journalists have particularly suffered violence. Spectator ace-cameraman Vincent Dzatse was severely assaulted by AMA men when he attempted to take pictures of their indiscretions.
Sports cameraman, P. K. Arthur has been beaten more than once at the sports stadium when riots errupted and he wanted to capture it on his lenses.
Some sports journalists have been banned from entering the Accra Sports Stadium by supporters because in their comments, they didn’t write “sense”. Some supporters once nearly lynched Christian Abbew, Spectator Sports Editor, near a courtroom. He was stoned like the biblical Stephen. He had gone to defend a contempt charge.
I think it is time journalists met and discussed how best to defend themselves in any event of an attack by individuals or mobs. In the pursuance of their duty, they must be free from harassment and assault.
Some journalists go to work and return home with a black-eye or a double fore-head. It is just not right. Something has to be done about it. I think journalists should be armed. But first we must be trained in the use of firearms so that our warning shot do not hit below the belt. What about training in Kung Fu?
This article was first published on Saturday, October 17, 1998.




