Features
Growing up… (Part 2)
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As happens in many societies, some of my classmates from Anyako fell on hard times. The day after I arrived for my uncle’s funeral, I met one of them. She had only a loin cloth covering her lower parts. She carried an aluminium bowl in her armpit, her elbow in the bowl with her hand holding it at the rim. We recognised each other instantly, calling out our names. Her upper torso looked rather masculine which made my heart sink.
She was far older than me in school and is now a fishmonger of sort. I thought of how someone in their mid-seventies can be rehabilitated. After parting with a grateful smile for a few cedis in her palm, I knew she was not alone; a part of me was in that situation. I knew my mates would feel the same way too.
Many of my mates became accountants, bankers, professors, educationists and more. Those we have lost track of might be in many other fields, I reckon.
Our teachers were a major part of our growing up. They were revered by the townsfolk. If you met a teacher in town you removed your footwear before greeting them. Fortunately, I didn’t have to do that because I put on my first flip-flop after I turned 14. We went everywhere barefoot, though Anyako was full of oyster shells in the ground. We had cuts of all shapes but the salt in the soil might have served as antibiotics to prevent tetanus.
Some teachers were quite friendly while others took discipline to dizzying heights. They had the cane in hand at the ready for any act of indiscipline on our part. Under all these we enjoyed growing up. We were hardly ever hungry, thanks to aunties and elder cousins who had something at the ready always.
Some of us became choristers in Church. We loved the singing because it gave us joy, pride and leverage. Someone donated brass musical instruments to our school, so I graduated from the flute to these instruments as a bandboy. I tried the trumpet, cornet, the horn and the tuba, but settled on the tuba because of its bass sound. There was one saxophone in the mix but methinks our music teacher did not know how to handle it so it lay unused till I left for secondary school.
When I was to be confirmed in the Church in 1966 and tried my new shoes on for the first time, I did not know how to walk in them. Was I to step forward with the heels or toes? This alone took more practise to get the feel than anything I have tried.
Until Ghana changed its currency from Pounds to Cedis, I never saw a pound note. I only knew the look in textbooks. I saw a 10-shilling note once when I accompanied a cousin to the market one day. My grandmother, like others, went to the market with coins and came back home with basketfuls of goodies to last till the next market day four days later.
But something happened, which has lived in my mind till date. It was in 1963 when a woman who prepared and sold yakayake, a local food derived from cassava granules, beat gong-gong in the town for three consecutive days that someone had stolen her one pound and called on the thief to humbly return her money. Apparently, she bought the cassava dough on credit and paid back after selling her yakayake. One pound was an awful lot of money and so it was unfathomable to owe one’s suppliers that amount.
Though a suspect was spotted in the woman’s place at the time of the theft, he vehemently denied taking the money. This poor woman threatened to invoke the god of thunder to seek justice if by a certain deadline she did not get her money back. Incidentally, this was in August when it was raining heavily, which eventually caused flooding of the Lagoon.
During one heavy rainstorm, I heard the loudest three claps of thunder, each 90 seconds from the other. I heard my grandmother say, “This thunder is unusual; it surely might have caused havoc somewhere.” Apparently, the suspect in the one pound theft case had gone fishing with some colleagues. At the first lightning, he had a schock and asked his colleagues to hold him, which they did.
The second yanked him from the grips of his friends in the canoe and dropped him over 50 metres away into the water. The third split his chest open, killing him instantly. Some rituals were performed before his body was put on a wooden plank and dragged away for burial.
This was the talk of the town for many months. If you were at Anyako at this time and would want to have sticky fingers, that was entirely up to you. Another happened at Konu, the eastern tip of Amyako, when lightning struck a woman. This had nothing to do with theft; she was carrying an aluminium bowl during a thunderstorm. Aluminium, I am told, is a good conductor of electricity.
My personal fear of lightning lingered on until 1986 when I was forced by circumstance to confront that fear. I was driving from Accra to Anyako after work. Then somewhere between Tsokpoli and Dawa the rain clouds opened up and the accompanying lightning was incessant. A niece was in the passenger seat and I did not have to show fear. Could it be adrenaline that gave me a bravado I never knew existed? Or just facing my fear head-on? Maybe both. To stop the car would have been suicidal, given the fact that the area could flood and drag the car away.
With the windshield wipers at full blast and hazard lights on, we braved the weather and got home to Anyako safely.
Konu lies to the east of Anyako township. Growing up in Anyako for the six-year period did not see me in that part more than half a dozen times, though my grand uncle, Tormadogo Segbefia, married Konu women and moved to settle there. The residents of Konu had a peculiar twang to the way they spoke the language so we could determine who they were once they spoke. I don’t know if it was deliberate because I don’t hear that any longer. Today, my Holy village is referred to as Anyako-Konu.
My people were mainly fishers, kente weavers and boatmen. I had a few neighbours who taught me the art of weaving but I could not match the dexterity with which they wove the kente patterns. The boatmen ferried passengers across the eight miles to Keta, which was a trading post until tidal waves caused its decline. It is now quicker driving the circuitous routes to Keta than trying by boat or canoe.
Weaving is virtually absent and the lagoon does not yield as much fish as it used to even up till about 20 years ago. To revive the fishing business and get it back to its glory means the Keta Lagoon has to be dredged and measures put in place to forestall silting. The depth of the water could enhance fishing all-year round. The last time I checked, it would cost $98 million to do. It’s quite expensive but when it is done, economic activities will boom in the area for a long time to come. All it takes is the political will and the will of the chiefs of the area to support it.
I might have been born in Koforidua, lived mostly there and in Accra, but as an Anyako boy, my village is of a sentimental value to me. There is no place like home.
Writer’s email address: akofa45@yahoo.com
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia
The average modern Gold Coaster born and bred in Sikaman is an adventurous creature. Go to any part of the world and you’ll find Ghanaman diligently slugging it out either in the snow or in hot sweltering weather, earning a decent living.
Go to Guinea and see Ghanaman in the garb of a herbalist, curing the sick of various ailments. He makes the Guinean understand that not all diseases are caused by James Lucifer alias Jimmy Satan. On the contrary, most diseases are caused by kooko which can even attack the human nose and turn it upside down.
That kooko is also the cause of poverty and the internal bleeding of personal back-pocket economies. And that kooko can be cured using the chemistry underlying Sikaman herbal medicine which has been blessed by the gods of Larteh.
And before Ghanaman starts dispensing his herbal concoctions, he must attract the passing crowd with some Sıkaman-originated choreography, akin to a combination of adowa and agbadza, such that the dancer can easily dislocate a shoulder and start crying for his mother.
When the crowd is enough to form a quorum, Ghanaman must perform magic as a side-attraction, and proceed to sell his drugs. The drugs are genuinely made from potent herbs which the Pharmacy Board of Sikaman says it has no confidence in. Believe me, Ghanaian herbalists are practising in neighbouring countries like Guinea, Cote d’Ivoire, Sierra Leone and Benin, while we are discouraging them from practising in Sikaman.
Go to Las Palmas and see Ghanaman as a fisherman. He sails on Korean-owned boats and is forced to eat garlic and raw tuna for radiant health. The garlic is also supposed to protect him against witches. But sometimes, he is not good bedfellows with some Korean crew members, and once in a while a fight breaks out.
The typical Korean is a Kung Fu expert and before displaying a golden dragon data. He must first terrify Ghanaman with a Korean dance which consists of wild arms and leg throwing. But Ghanaman is usually not daunted. Why has he been eating cancer kenkey all years without developing cancer? It mean is a superhuman capable of countering Kun fu side-kicks to the ribs.
Anyhow Ghanaman’s most potent arsenal lies in his fists. If he is a southpaw, it mean left fist is probably insured and can cause damage. When Ghanaman lands a cassava blow and it lands on a Korean chest, it has the effect of a cruise missile. If there is no ceasefire a funeral cannot be ruled out.
Greenland
Go to Alaska and find Ghanaman there. Greenland, Iceland, Brazil, Argentina, Madagascar, everywhere and you’ll find him. He has become an international citizen and is generally lauded for his hardwork, sincerity and honesty.
However, some bad nuts are also condemned and despised.
The world and all its parts and corners are for the human race, and anyone can choose to live anywhere and earn a decent living so long as he doesn’t misconduct himself or become a social misfit and a law unto himself.
Sıkaman for instance accepts foreigners, and we are so liberal that people just come in through our borders and we welcome them with the best palmwine in town and goat light soup. Who cares about passports and visas? Our hospitality is, as it were legendary.
So we have Liberians, Nigerians, Sierra Leoneans, Togolese, Europeans, Americans, Scandinavians and Koreans in Sikaman. And some of them have misinterpreted our overzealous accommodation to mean “foolishness” and are misconducting themselves.
The newspapers carry stories of some unscrupulous Nigerians stealing, defrauding and collaborating with their Sikaman counterparts to rob people. You’ll find some good and law-abiding Liberians around but some other Liberians are in the business of fraud, robbery, money printing, money doubling, anything criminal.
Ghanaian hospitality can no longer be extended to such people. I do not think Ghanaians will be treated kindly either, when they misbehave anywhere in the world. Those who come from outside with the intention of bringing down their evil deeds and to practise them here professionally must be getting ready because Ghanaians are getting fed up with the menace.
These days, you’ll find strange people following you as soon as you emerge from a bank. If you are not careful, they’ll wrestle your briefcase from you and speed away in a waiting taxi.
Someone was just saying that many foreign criminals are flocking to Ghana because in their countries, they are enable to operate either because they are being looked for by the police for offences committed or fear instant justice at the hands of mobs. Ghanaians, it is said, are humanitarian in dealing with criminals.
Well, in some African countries, a thief who is being chased runs directly to the police station in his own interest and begs the officer at the counter to lock him up. Otherwise he’ll be lynched or be burnt to death. In Ghana, it is the opposite. The thieves run far away from the cop stations.
The criminals must reform and stay peacefully in Sikaman or quit. No court case!
This article was first published on Saturday September 5, 1998
The human condition is defined by two absolute, biological bookends: the commencement of complex cellular animation and its ultimate, irreversible cessation.
For centuries, medicine treated life and death as strictly separate states. Today, modern pathology and molecular biology reveal a more profound truth: the mechanisms that allow us to live are the exact same mechanisms that dictate how we die.
Understanding this relationship is no longer just a philosophical pursuit. It is a clinical necessity for managing public health in the 21st century.
Part I: How we live – The mechanics of animation
At its core, biological life is a continuous, high-stakes battle against entropy (the natural tendency of systems to degrade into disorder). To maintain form, consciousness, and function, the human body relies on three fundamental pillars:
1. Cellular respiration and energy production
Every second of human life is powered by the conversion of oxygen and glucose into Adenosine Triphosphate (ATP), the universal energy currency of our cells. This process occurs within the mitochondria.
Without a constant supply of ATP, the microscopic pumps that maintain electrical gradients across our cell membranes fail, causing cellular collapse within minutes.
2. Homeostasis: The balancing act
To survive, the internal environment of the body must remain incredibly stable, regardless of external chaos. This balancing act, known as homeostasis, regulates:
Blood pH: Strictly maintained between 7.35 and 7.45.
Core Temperature: Ideally kept around 37°C (98.6°F).
Electrolyte Balance: Precise ratios of sodium, potassium, and calcium that allow nerves to fire and muscles to contract.
3. The Autonomic Nervous System (ANS)
The ANS acts as the invisible conductor of life, split into two complementary branches:
Part II: How we die – The path of cessation
Death is rarely a singular event; it is a progressive biological cascade. Whether caused by old age, chronic illness, or sudden trauma, the final pathways of mortality generally follow a predictable trajectory.
1. The cellular horizon: Senescence and Apoptosis
Every time a human cell divides, the protective caps at the ends of its chromosomes-telomeres-shorten. Eventually, telomeres become so depleted that the cell can no longer divide safely. It enters senescence (a state of permanent arrest) or triggers apoptosis (programmed cell death). This gradual, systemic loss of cellular renewal is the underlying engine of aging.
2. The clinical cascade of somatic death
When the body can no longer maintain homeostasis, somatic death (the death of the organism as a whole) begins. This occurs in a distinct sequence:
1
Clinical Death
Zero to four minutes
The heart stops pumping blood, and respiration ceases. While breathing and circulation have ended, the body’s tissues still contain residual oxygen and cellular energy reserves. At this stage, resuscitation is often still possible.
2
Brain Death (Infarction)
Four to six minutes
Deprived of fresh oxygenated blood, the brain’s highly sensitive neurons begin to starve. Lacking ATP, the brain cells lose their electrical charge, swell, and begin to burst. Permanent, irreversible neurological damage occurs within minutes.
3
Biological Death
Hours to days
The organs fail entirely. Without central control or blood flow, individual cells throughout the body consume their final energy reserves. Enzymes that once aided digestion begin to break down the body’s own tissues from the inside out, a process known as autolysis.
Part III: The modern collision of life and death
In the modern era, the boundary between how we live and how we die has blurred. Historically, humanity died primarily from infectious diseases and acute trauma. Today, global mortality is dominated by non-communicable, chronic lifestyle diseases.
Modern Pathology: How we live (the cause) how we die (the result)
Cardiovascular disease, chronic stress, poor diet, and lack of sleep keep the sympathetic nervous system hyper-activated, damaging blood vessels .Occlusion of coronary arteries leads to myocardial infarction (heart attack) or ischemic stroke.
Metabolic syndrome over nutrition and physical inactivity overwhelm cellular mitochondria, leading to systemic insulin resistance. Multi-organ failure, chronic kidney disease, and severe vascular complications.
Neurodegenerative Disorders Chronic systemic inflammation and sleep deprivation prevent the brain from clearing metabolic waste. Gradual loss of synaptic connections, leading to dementia and the eventual loss of basic autonomic functions.
Conclusion: The unified theory of health
Ultimately, how we live directly shapes the path of how we die. The micro-choices of daily existence-how we manage emotional stress, the quality of our rest, our communal connections, and our nutrition-either preserve the integrity of our homeostatic systems or accelerate their decline.
True medical advancement is shifting away from merely extending the final, frail stages of biological death. Instead, the focus is turning toward optimising our living years-ensuring that the intricate, beautiful machinery of human animation runs smoothly until its natural, quiet conclusion.
By Robert Ekow Grimmond-Thompson
