Features
Criminals and gullible natives
A criminal is a criminal whether or he has thick lips. As such, I strongly disagree with the French psychologist, Lombroso, whose idea of a criminal is a person with hard features and thick lips. If Lombroso had conducted his research in Africa, he probably might have condemned Africans to be a criminal race, since broad noses and thick lips, among others, comprise the African’s visage.
In Sikaman for instance, we have dangerous criminals whose physiognomy has nothing to do with their criminality. We have criminal die-hards and recidivists who are handsome gentlemen and comely ladies. Women who dupe for instance are the most attractive, albeit with dark minds.
And one thing I have come to realise of late is that there has been a return to the use of wits and magic in place of violence by criminals, especially by thieves and burglars. Perhaps, the idea of firing squads does not particularly appeal to them.
Using wits and magıc has a long history in Sikaman. In 1974, certain crooks, allegedly from a neighbouring country, invaded Sikaman to make money. They greeted you, you responded and your genitals got lost if you were a man. If a woman, your breasts vanished in a twinkle of an eye.
In desperation and bewilderment, weeping and gnashing of teeth, you quickly had to agree to pay quite a sum of money to another man (an accomplice) who approached you offering help, and you got back your sexual accessories.
It was widely disseminated that the antidote to the magic was pepper or charcoal. You simply had to put one of these into your pockets wherever you were going and then you were safe. Those days you could see Sikaman natives laden with pepper in all pockets and some with loads of charcoal in their back pockets. Pepper and charcoal became essential commodities.
This criminal practice died down in Tema for instance, not because people were using pepper and charcoal, but because one of the so-called magicians met a rather tragic end. He was identified by his victim and promptly lynched through mob violence.
Sometime last year, the ‘Spectator’ carried a front page exclusive of a man with a tribal mark who does not cherish using violence to earn a living. The man, it was alleged, made lucrative business by dressing like a woman, with slit and kaba, and high-heeled stiletto shoes, complete with make-up and earrings. I wonder what really was attractive about this muscular gentleman, no matter the finesse with which he executed the make-up and the power with which he wriggled his buttocks when walking. Anyhow, he made a tidy sum duping unsuspecting men before being told enough was enough.
In a bid to burgle a business executive in a quiet residential area, a man uses a ladder to enable him get access to the top chamber at about 2a.m, unfortunately for the thief, the executive boss does not sleep with both ears. One ear is, therefore, alive like a 24-hour radio frequency. He hears the sound as the thief works his way upstairs via the ladder.
The man wakes up and descries a tall, bulky barrel chested human being, who could have passed for a gorilla, ascending a wooden ladder pitched against his window. He had never seen such a formidable figure.
However, as the thief nearly gets to the top, and with all his might pushes the man takes courage and with all his might pushes the ladder off his window. The criminal lands on his back with the ladder atop him, and barks like a dog although he is a perfect human being.
But he is also a professional. He quickly wakes up from the tragedy, wipes the sand off his face and hair, carries the ladder on his broad shoulders and trots dizzily away home to plan another strategy. After an alarm had been sounded for his arrest, he was nowhere to be found.
A boy of about 13 enters into a house and meets the children of a prosperous man whose wife is a businesswoman. The boy tells the children that he has been sent by their mother to carry the video set to a repairer. The children become sceptical, because the video set is in excellent condition.
Anyhow, the teenager convinces them that the repairer had to put something right somewhere. The children are too willing and allowed the smiling adolescent to carry away their beautiful set to improve the picture quality.
Their mother returns at dusk and denies ever sending a boy to the house. Up till this day neither the video set nor the boy has been found.
The latest episode was reported in the Ghanaian Times by Francis Gasu, some three weeks back.
A woman meets two girls at the Kwame Nkrumah Circle, Accra, on their way to buy exercise books at the premises of New Times Corporation. She advises the elder of the two to remove whatever money they were having in their ladies’ bag, to keep it safe by wrapping it in some pieces of paper. She asks them to put the money into a nylon sack -they were holding, and to hurry since according to her, thieves were following them.
The girls indeed hurry. But when they got to New Times and decided to take out the GH¢36,000 wrapped in the papers, the money is absent, the papers intact. So magically dangerous! They came weeping and became confounded at this magical gimmickry perpetuated by a seemingly innocent and helpful woman.
There are thieves and criminals of different grades making money by relying on the gullibility of the native. When a thief enters a court room, he is the most dangerous of his calibre. And when a thief wields a ladder, it is an indication that he knows his job.
A man in brown overall with a ladder firmly held onto his shoulder, begs his way through the capacity crowd present to witness a long-awaited trial. He is allowed into the courtroom and he bows to the judge who solemnly acknowledges the reverence.
He unloads his tall ladder and puts it against the wall as court proceedings were underway. He climbs the ladder and screws out the large beautiful wall clock that had stopped working some two weeks back. The man must be a repairer and his forehead looks like that of a very efficient watch repairer.
He descends the ladder with the clock, puts the ladder on his shoulder, bows again to the judge and is given way to pass. That has been the end of the beautiful clock and the efficient repairer who incidentally does not have thick lips.
These are all true stories which have occurred at one time or the other. They are the perfect substitutes for armed robbery. The thieves come in many forms and guises. They use brains and magic when the going becomes tough.
Be on your guard and save your property!
This article was first published on Saturday October 13, 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.
