Features
Growing up…
Two weeks ago today, I was in my Holy Village of Anyako to celebrate the life of my uncle, Leo Midodzi Demanya. He came directly after my mother and took me and my siblings under his wings after our Mother died while we were still in school. His passing was a blow to everyone in spite of the fact that he was 96.
Having grown up at Anyako, my uncle’s funeral brought to me a new vista of understanding and appreciating growing up there. It was a celebration never witnessed; attendance was massive in spite of COVID protocols. The lives that Uncle Leo impacted were huge, according to testimonies.
I have been to many funerals, festivities and other events, but none brought almost all my relatives, classmates and friends together the way my uncle’s funeral did. It brought me nostalgia I never felt before. I met my cousins with whom I played ampe and hide-and-seek back in the day on moonlit nights, disturbing the old folks with our screaming and extreme happiness.
My grandpa, Amevuvor Demanya, would shout at us to keep quiet, but we took that as part of the fun and continued enjoying being children. Occasionally, Grandpa would sneak behind us and spray us with a pail of water, which would keep us quiet for a moment or two and we got back to being naughty. Today, as I need more peace and quiet, it hurts me for what I contributed in putting the old man through.
I lived in an enclave called Afeyeme, which had an open space that served as our playground. Next to the Demanya family home was that of Jiagge, followed by Adjasoo, Aflakpui, Fugah, Adzika, Kumasa and then Segbefia in a circular shape. You can only imagine what it was like when children from all these homes congregated on the open space. It was a childhood like no other and we had no care in the world when we were at play. We were all not of the same age group though. After all, monkeys play according to size, no?
In my estimation, half of our number is dead and gone. I was the only boy who was excellent at ampe. And it was fun beating my female cousins except one. Naomi would beat anyone under the sun at ampe. I cannot remember if after sweating from all the jumping I had the presence of mind to take a bath. I guess falling into an exhausted sleep was the tonic I needed.
During weekends we would go fishing in the Keta Lagoon, the big boys doing a better job of it than us small ones. Swimming in the lagoon was one favourite pastime. Other times, we went to set traps for rats in the cemeteries a mile away or catch birds. Sundays saw us in church to avoid the cane on our backs next day at school.
When the Lagoon overflowed its banks in 1963/64, the southern third of our house was under water. On occasions I would wade in the water, catch some fish and grill them for lunch before setting off for school, especially around noon. This was because the local Catholic school was under water and they were made to run shifts with our school.
At the funeral, I met just a few of my classmates and we did a rollcall of our mates. Mathew Attipoe died as did Awotor Gawuga, Legbedze, Helegbe, Dzotefe, Gladys Avemee, Margo Agbedor, Felix Korkoryie and others. The thought of having lost these mates made me feel lonely and alone at the same time. My classmates are always a part of me. I regard them as family. To lose any is not a good feeling for me. If people meet in the other world, what would they be thinking or saying? “Segbefia and others are still back there, sweating under the sun and buying fuel at ten cedis a litre.”?
Prosper Kafui Senaya is very much alive as do Oscar Dovlo, siblings Emmanuel and Godson Nyatuame, Christian Asempa, Atsu Forfoe and a few others we could recollect. Agbashi Woanya could not remember I was her classmate.
Some of my mates have never returned to Anyako since we completed school and no one knows where they are. A few boys and girls joined us in Middle School from the island of Seva, southeast of Anyako. I remember Harry Fiawotso, Brandina Sosu, Setsoafia, Amegbor, Hukporti and Daniel Avorgbedor, now a professor of music.
The Seva folks were good at basket weaving and other craft. Avorgbedor was one brilliant chap who gave us Anyako boys like Asempa, Senaya and me hell in academic performance. He never had the voice for singing so it came as a surprise when he became a music professor. I would visit my Seva mates; their parents would order them to pluck coconut for me to drink. By the time lunch was ready, my stomach was already distended from coconut water.
It was immense pride to have your mates visit and parents were eager to play host. We had so much to eat and talk about, young as we were. And we tried to do our best in school so as not to disappoint our parents. Because I was the only boy among eleven girls in the Demanya home, the pressure was greater on me to prove my mettle. I must not be feminised. And I did not disappoint.
Everyone was everybody’s keeper. Any elderly person had the right to discipline any wayward kid and then report back to their parents or teachers. It was a way of ensuring that children grew up into responsible adults. Because of the history of the suffering of our people during their migration, very little room was allowed for deviant behaviour.
Growing up in Anyako was not only fun; it was a period of learning to live among equals, learning to live with adults, learning to be of service, learning the culture and tradition of our people; and above all, learning the language.
Writer’s email address:
akofa45@yahoo.com
I experienced something on Monday, June 15, that really frustrated me. I had to go to the ministries but I could not get up early that day so I decided to pick a taxi and get to the Tuba Junction.
When I got there I realised that Traffic had built up from the Toll Booth towards Accra. After a while I got a Taxi and it was when we got to a certain spot on the road, that I realised why there was a traffic jam.
There is a short stretch of the road where each time it rains heavily, loose material run down the hill onto the road, blocking one side of the road. Vehicles from Kasoa to Accra are then forced to move into one of the lanes of those going towards Kasoa from Accra.
The two lane road from Accra to Kasoa becomes a single carriage way. That was the reason for the traffic jam from the toll booth onwards.
This has been a perineal problem and yet, no permanent solution has been found till date. The area falls under Ga South and even though, a new MCE has taken over, the technocrats are still there and so the problem is not new to them.
There is therefore no excuse for the inability of the Ga South Metropolitan Assembly to resolving the problem on that stretch of the road. Apart from the Ga South Metropolitan Assembly, another institution that must be held accountable is the Ghana Highways Authority.
The Highways Authority cannot say they are unaware of this issue. The fact that the problem falls within the area of responsibility of the Ga South Assembly, does not relieve the Ghana Highways Authority, of their responsibility of ensuring that our highways are maintained in a motorable state at all times.
A collaboration between the Ghana Highways Authority and The Ga South Municipal Assembly is required for a permanent resolution of the problem.
There was another traffic jam at a place called Atala about 250 metres to the traffic light at Old Barrier as a result of an issue similar to the one close to the toll booth, that I talked about earlier.
When we got to Weija junction, we encountered another traffic jam. The cause of this jam was a bad condition of road about 80 metres from the traffic light at Ga South Hospital heading towards Accra.
Due to the bad nature at that section of the road, vehicles are compelled to slow down resulting in a traffic jam stretching all the way to Weija Junction.
I started wondering if that short stretch of road cannot be sorted on one Sunday when traffic is usually light. When we got to the traffic light at Odorkor, there was another issue.
When the traffic light shows green, there is a slow down because there is a big pothole or should I say manhole in the outer lane, right at the traffic light. Vehicles in the outer lane are compelled to swerve into the second lane thereby causing a traffic to slow down and resulting in a traffic jam.
It is very important to take into account the effect of traffic jam on the national economy. If we are able to assess the value of the loss to the economy of the nation, I believe the issue of traffic jam will be prioritised.
Imagine persons working at various Government Organisations like Registrar General’s Department, Ghana Ports and Habours Authority, Ghana Revenue Authority, CEPS etc. and lives at Kasoa and whose job is to collect revenue for the state and is held up in traffic.
Just imagine the effect their lateness to work will have on the economy if you consider the delays in say clearing of goods at the port and as a result traders cannot sell their goods for government to generate the required taxes.
Let us deal with the traffic jams on our streets to promote economic growth. God bless.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
Mortality is an inherent aspect of life, a universal experience that has sparked philosophical, theological, and scientific inquiry throughout human history.
This article aims to provide a comprehensive and nuanced exploration of mortality, acknowledging the complexity of the topic and the diverse perspectives surrounding it.
The biological imperative
From a biological standpoint, death is a natural part of the life cycle. It serves as a mechanism for the evolution of species, allowing for the passing on of genetic material and the adaptation to environmental changes.
Evolutionary perspective: Death allows for the recycling of resources, promoting the survival and adaptation of species.
Life span and senescence: Cellular aging and the limitations of biological systems contribute to mortality.
Philosophical and existential perspectives
Existentialism: Emphasises individual freedom and responsibility in the face of mortality.
Meaning and purpose: The finite nature of life can prompt individuals to seek meaning and purpose.
The human condition: Mortality is a fundamental aspect of the human experience, shaping our perceptions and values.
Cultural and spiritual views
Afterlife and spirituality: Many cultures and religions believe in an afterlife or spiritual continuation.
Rituals and mourning: Cultural practices surrounding death reflect the significance of mortality in human experience.
Legacy and remembrance: The impact of one’s life can transcend mortality.
Ethical considerations
End-of-life care: Ethical debates surround issues like euthanasia, assisted dying, and palliative care.
Quality of life: Balancing the value of life with the quality of life is a complex ethical issue.
Resource allocation: Societal decisions about healthcare and resource distribution involve considerations of mortality.
Psychological impact
Grief and loss: The experience of mortality can evoke profound emotional responses.
Fear and anxiety: The awareness of mortality can lead to existential anxiety.
Appreciation and gratitude: Recognising mortality can foster appreciation for life.
Conclusion
Mortality is a multifaceted aspect of human existence, influencing how we live, relate, and find meaning. Understanding and acknowledging mortality can prompt deeper reflections on life and our place in the world.
By Robert Ekow Grimmond-Thompson
