Features
Hair styles and Palm Sunday

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My bosom friend Kofi Kokotako once told me that a person’s haircut portrays his character. I disagreed with him and said a person’s character portrays his haircut. All in all, we agreed between us that a presidential aspirant whose haircut is excessively punk cannot win even a unit committee election, much more a castle-bound one.
One thing I hated as a kid was getting my hair barbered because I never had the style I wanted. Usually, it was my father who was the tormentor-in-chief, and he chose the kind of design that would suit the shape and nature of my head and that of my elder brother Christian, whose name is more civilised than mine.
When we were through, we looked quite different from the other kids. I didn’t know where my Pop learnt that kind of style but I realised it was very colonial in form and outlook, and I became sad when the girls giggled at my design.
Actually, it was something resembling a half-bow with a line cut through at about 38 degrees to the perpendicular. After the ordeal we looked half like the resident catechist and half like a fierce Regimental Sergeant-Major.
When I told my daddy that I had had enough of the ancient cut and wanted an Afro or at least a Tokyo Joe, he quickly explained that Tokyo Joe was for ruffians and that his style was tailor-made for aspiring doctors, lawyers, engineers and great states-men. He didn’t mention journalists though.
So I went and told the giggling girls that my hairdo was a magical one that was going to transform me into a doctor whether they liked it or not. I added that their brothers who had modern haircuts invariably were going to be labourers and tangas (town council). They laughed at me even the more.
They referred me to the conservancy labourer not far away who always wore my kind of cut and asked me why he wasn’t wearing a white gown with a stethoscope hanging from his neck, if that kind of haircut was indeed miracle-performing!
My Dad was quite scrupulous and dished us the haircut in its hardest form just before Palm Sunday. It helped boost our religious conviction and the Holy Spirit almost descended and settled on our wonderful heads.
At Sunday school one Palm Sunday, the lady teacher asked me to stand so that she could admire my hairdo. I was quite flattered and happy that I was the centre of attraction on a great occasion like Palm Sunday. So I quickly stood up and turned round like a model for all to see and envy my design.
It was when the teacher asked me whether my daddy was a policeman that I lost heart. At the mention of policeman, everybody started laughing and I concluded that the teacher wasn’t admiring my head after all. All she wanted to do was to predict my daddy’s occupation using my head as a determinant. I wasn’t pleased with the attempt.
Today whenever it is getting to Palm Sunday I remember the incident. And actually I have always enjoyed Palm Sunday because deep within me, I’m a very religious person and I believe that once God will judge us by the purity of our hearts and not the bottles of beer we quaff, I shall also be in heaven together with Korkorti.
Now if you observe properly, you’d realise it is those who are not believers who celebrate Easter to the fullest. They understand the real meaning of Palm Sunday because they equate it to the birthday of palm wine. They actually mourn the death of Christ and rejoice at his resurrection using palm in the form of wine.
Palm Sunday is best marked in the rural areas where palm wine is always available from dawn to dusk and vice versa. Normally, people start Palm Sunday at exactly 4.15 am when the freshly-tapped wine starts arriving. But you have to begin slowly otherwise you’d be in coma before the sun rises.
Easter is due again and this time as usual, the action is right in the countryside. Kwahu is going to shake, Tapa Abotoase will somersault and Peki would explode. All over the world, these three Sikaman towns are ranked as places where Easter is best celebrated with a hangover assured.
People from Britain, Germany and Holland come down either to Obo Kwahu or Avetile Peki to celebrate Easter. They never miss it. It is a yearly ritual. They save towards the occasion.
So during the celebrations, people from all over the country also converge on these places and the celebrants compare haircuts and note carefully those who have grown lean and those who are neither growing lean or growing fat.
In fact, people assess their fellow human beings to ascertain whether they are becoming prosperous or are chewing grass. News is also brought from all over the globe and those from Germany (Jaaamani) are the loudest. The way they talk, you would never know they are cleaning the whiteman’s toilet to make some dough. You’ll think they are Managing Directors of a multinational corporation in Dusseldorf. Such is life.
It is during church service on Easter Sunday that the been-tos and the locals alike display whatever they have under their sleeves. The gentlemen are often resplendent in suits and black shining pairs of shoes, and the way they walk can be a clue as to where they are sojourning. With seamen for instance, it can be quite psychedelic. It is a real sight to behold especially if they hail from Kromanti, Moree or Abandze.
With the ladies, the spectacle is breathtaking. It is unbelievable! You can’t comprehend it using the human senses. You have to employ spiritual means. The kaba styles are of different kinds, styles, colour and combination of colours. Some of the styles are complemented with wings and when the lady wearing it is hurrying to “chapel” you’ll think she is actually airborne. She is practically a human vulture.
Then comes the picnic sessions which are normally well-attended by gate crashers, mental patients and political strategists who are also well versed with what is going on between Kwame Pianim and kukrudu. So they brief their listeners and prophesy the outcome of court cases and election results. In exchange, they are well-fed, well-boozed and all.
But things do not happen only during the day time. At night, the devil usually takes over. Friendships are entered into, old girlfriends are re-baptised and there is love and romance.
By Easter Monday, marriages are broken, new marriages contracted, girlfriends are jilted and pregnancies are on the way awaiting abortion. Every year it happens, and this year it is going to happen again. The death and resurrection of the Lord will really be marked in both righteous and evil ways.
Perhaps, this is not how Judas intended it to be celebrated. Judas was the architect of the Holy Friday coup d’état against the Son of Man.
This article was first published on Saturday March 30, 1996.
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Features
This sanitation issue!
Some things do not change in this country. The rains shall fall in May, and June and even July. That is out of our control. It is an act of God and he decides how often and the intensity. Who are we to question God?
However, there is something man-made that is gradually becoming something that is also not changing and it is worrying. A week ago the President initiated a national clean up campaign to address the issue of sanitation in the country, especially in Accra.
Citizens enthusiastically got involved and engaged in cleaning their environment and other places but afterwards, the issue that is becoming a permanent feature resisting change, reared its ugly head again.
The rubbish and the silt that were dug out of the drains, were heaped on the shoulders of the drains and left there. Any little rain will render the whole effort futile because the rubbish and silt will be washed right back into the drains.
This is what is not changing in the country and the various assemblies must ensure that this issue is dealt with and must become a thing of the past.
There is the need to engage the citizenry across board, in connection with mindset change, as far as sanitation is concerned. At this juncture, I must acknowledge the thoughtful initiative of the current crop of Abenfo (i.e. students both present and past) of SUTESCO of Suhum, with support of the school administration for decorating the area under the overpass on the Accra Kumasi highway, near the school, with fascinating paintings. This is an example worthy of emulation and makes me proud as one of the Abenfo.
An example not worthy of emulation is an eyesore currently existing behind a cemetery along the Atta Mills link as you branch left, off the main Accra-Cape Coast road at Old barrier and head towards the beach through Aplaku, Bortianor, Oshiyie, Korobite through to Tuba and beyond.
The drain along the walls of the cemetery also lying astride the road, is choked with silt and rubbish. This has created a problem near the end of the cemetery wall just before you enter Bortianor.
Water has accumulated at that point, creating potholes and also gradually creating a channel across the road, creating a nightmare for motorists using that route. This route is the main link between parts of Kasoa and the Accra – Cape Coast road and whenever it rains and the Atala stretch of the road is blocked, that is the route most motorists from Kasoa uses.
It is also the route used by tourists going to the beaches along the sea of the towns stretching from Bortianor to Kokrobite and so it does not speak well of us, as a nation at all.
A few days ago, I had to pass through Tema Station, the place where a major clean up exercise was conducted just fews days ago and it was very shocking to see the level of wanton littering that had taken place.
One begins to wonder if this whole exercise initiated by the President was worth it. People just do not care and are not willing to change their attitude towards sanitation.
We cannot continue like this and to win this battle against insanitary conditions in our environment, the NCCE must be resourced to embark on a serious educational drive. The MMDCEs must also be held accountable for sanitation lapses in their administrative areas, by making sanitation part of their KPIs among other innovative policies. This is one of the surest ways to overcome this sanitation challenge confronting us. God bless.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
Features
Disqualified — Part 1
THE discussion lasted only ten minutes. Mr Philip Sampson, Eunice’s father, had asked to see him, and he was led to the sitting room for the first time. Mr Sampson indicated that he should sit down.
‘Yes, Kakraba. I know that you have been, er, friends with Eunice for some months now, and naturally, as her father, I thought it would be important to meet you, and to reach an understanding with you on, er, some basic issues. So, I hear you are a graduate in building technology. Now, tell me about what you do’.
‘Okay. I worked with the Electricity Company for two years after National Service. During that time I interacted with some lawyers and land surveyors on our project sites, so I suggested to some of them that we take some dilapidated buildings in some parts of Accra, rehabilitate them and find new owners. Soon after starting that I got a job as Project Manager with a group of development agencies who are executing projects in the Northern Region, so I have been balancing the two positions’.
‘I see. That sounds like a bold step. So is it going well, financially?’
‘Well, sir, I absolutely enjoy what I’m doing now. Financially, I would only say that I am a work in progress. A lot of what I’m doing now involves some risk taking, as it involves trust issues with land and property owners.
I am partnering with prominent lawyers and land surveyors, so I am not taking any serious risks. So currently I am doing okay financially, but it will take me some time before I reach the level where I can say I am comfortable financially.’
‘Okay. Now tell me about your parents’.
‘My father was an Agricultural Extension Officer, so we spent some time at several locations with him. He is now enjoying his retirement. And my mother is a retired nurse. I have three elder sisters, all married’.
‘So you live with your parents?’
‘Yes and no. My dad built his home on one acre at Pokuase, so he gave me one plot, and I have done a three-bedroom house, where I live’.
‘Okay, fine. Thanks for the answers. You see, in addition to my position socially, I spent many years in the diplomatic service, so I’m sure you will understand that I need to ensure that my kids, especially my daughters, maintain suitable relationships. For now I think it is fine that you and Eunice are friends. I’m sure you understand what I mean’.
‘Yes sir. I understand perfectly well.’
‘Great, okay, that would be all.’
Kakraba stood up, bowed and said thank you to Mr Sampson, and walked to the garden where his girlfriend Eunice, her mother Mrs Elaine Sampson and her two elder sisters, Yvonne and Emma, were seated, busily discussing some dresses being offered for sale online.
‘So,’ Mrs Elaine asked him, ‘you and Daddy had a good discussion?’
‘Yes, Ma. We certainly did. I really appreciate Dad for the discussion. It was really good.’
‘Great. Although he has met you here on quite a number of occasions, I think it is good that you have met for a chat.’
‘Yes indeed, Ma, and I really appreciate it. So Eunice, I will be on my way. I will call.’
Eunice led him to his car, and after driving off he exhaled and shook his head. Although he had long concluded that Eunice’s family were so snobbish that a future relationship with her would be problematic, this discussion, or was it interrogation, had virtually cancelled any likelihood.
Mr Sampson just told him, in no uncertain terms, that the Sampson family was so prominent and socially connected that a union between his daughter and him was undesirable.
He had a good relationship with Eunice. They shared some beautiful moments together, and often went out to entertainment joints, often with her three friends Marian, Patricia and Amanda. But Kakraba was often uncomfortable with their preferences.
Eunice regularly spoke about her family’s experiences during her father’s postings in Europe and Asia, and her three friends were always discussing the latest fashion trends, always noting the importance of placing themselves among the best-dressed ladies in town.
Eunice, her mother and siblings had indicated in several ways that he did not quite fit into their social standing. They had only said a mild ‘thank you’ when he brought them a goat or sheep and a generous amount of foodstuffs from the north every month.
But Kakraba did not really take it to heart, because they were quite inexpensive up north. Moreover, he always went to the food market and arranged with the truck drivers for a big package which was picked up by his buddy Paa John and delivered to his family and a few others, including the Sampsons.
By Ekow de Heer




