Features
Israel: My take on two things
As a journalist and teacher, I cannot remember the number of times I have asked people that, given the chance of a lifetime visit, where is their preferred destination. Majority mentioned the United Kingdom, followed by the Caribbean, Canada and Israel. The few who mentioned the US did not want just to visit but to stay.
Personally, my dream is to visit far-flung places like Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea. The people there respect nature and its offerings and tune their lives accordingly. When their fishermen haul in their catch they apologise to the spirit of the fish for sacrificing them for their own sustenance. They do same for plants and animals they feed on. My prayer is to get sponsorship soon to visit such a place. As a naturalist I am very interested in societies that respect nature’s laws.
Visiting Israel had never been on my mind. I have read many a historical account on the formation of the State of Israel. Knowing the perennial conflict with Palestine, I thought there would be police or military presence every few metres all over the place. Described as the Holy Land by many, I was not inclined to think I should visit, probably because I am by nature a non-conformist. But then, it happened that I was on a pilgrimage to Israel in July of 2016.
As our tour bus left the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv en route to Tiberias, I noticed a knoll just a few 100 metres to the right. It looked strange to me because as a good student of Geography, it looked incongruous against the landscape as I am well aware of formation of hills, mountains and valleys, so I asked our guide, Major (Rtd) Abirama Harris, what that knoll was.
She said the site used to be a refuse dump that attracted a lot of vultures and other avian scavengers that posed a danger to aircraft taking off or landing. There were occasional bird strikes by aircraft. As a result, Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, decided the site be covered with grass. The rotting garbage thus produces methane gas that has been piped, harvested and adds two megawatts of electricity to their national grid.Is there a lesson in here for Ghana?
I did not see police officers in the street corners of Israel; none. It was only when we were getting into Jerusalem from Bethlehem that I saw two at the checkpoint. Then I bumped into three young soldiers when I was getting out of the Dead Sea enclave. This, I was told, was because east of the Dead Sea is Jordan, considered not friendly towards Israel. I took a picture with these young soldiers.
I learnt that every Israili citizen is a soldier. At age 18 when one would have completed high school, you do a three-year military training and service after which you go for higher education if you so qualify. So, in the event of what they term terrorist attack, casualties are minimal because their military background kicks in, in that event. The women do half the time.
However, Palestinians who are citizens of Israel have no compulsion for military training, unless they so desire. Reasons for this cannot be far-fetched. I think it was during the Rawlings era that the government mooted the idea of military service for our university graduates. There was hoopla over this at the time, but a cue could have been taken from the Israeli experience, not because Ghana has hostile neighbours but because of the discipline military training engenders. Now, thousands who want to join the armed forces are turned away.
Everyone has their version of the problem between Israel and Palestine, but I have tried not to bother understanding any. Don’t I have my own headaches already? But in Israeli cities and towns I saw Palestinian registered vehicles moving about freely, but Israelis were rather more cautious in Palestinian areas. Major Harris herself did not go to Bethlehem with our group.
If you have read and followed the historical narrative of the Holy Bible and walk through the places in Israel and Palestinian areas, it feels as if the Bible has come alive and you are a participant in those events. That was what I felt in Israel. Israel itself is just a few 100 square kilometres bigger than Ghana’s Oti and Volta regions put together. Within five days we had covered the whole of the area.
The climax of every pilgrimage to Israel is the visit to the Wailing Wall. Some call it The Western Wall, others call it the Post Office. Post Office, because there are little crevasses in the wall in which the faithful thrust their written prayer requests. To the left is the Muslim area where the famous Al-Aqsa Mosque is and the Jewish side to the right. This one is open to all faiths so long as you put the cape with the Star of David on your head.
I guess it was this day that I sold my country as tolerant of all religious faiths. I had a prayer request from one of my best journalism students who is Muslim. Then I spotted two women heading for the Mosque. They were speaking Bangla so I surmised they were wives of Muslim clerics from Bangladesh. They were suspicious of me when I called out to them. Could they have thought I was going to beg them for alms?
I read their minds, and to put them at ease, I said, “Sorry to bother you ladies, I am a Christian pilgrim from Ghana in Africa, but I have a prayer request from my Muslim friend. Could you, please take it to the mosque for her?” I could see the surprise on their faces. To test me, they asked the name of my friend. “Jemila,” I said before the question reached my ears. A female? I said yes and pulled out the envelope from the pouch slung over my shoulder. Their befuddlement was clear.
The one who spoke better English asked if various faiths mixed freely in my country. I said yes and added that we had no inter-faith problems in Ghana. They took the envelope with a certain reverence I cannot describe. Then I asked if they could get me a good quality Misbaha or Tasbih, the Muslim prayer beads, for my friend and her sister because I was afraid some cheap imitation might be sold to me.
At 20 dollars, one went and brought me three of the beads. I thanked them profusely for giving me their time. It was an honour to them that a “non-believer” like me could be of service to a Muslim friend. “Your country will be great,” they said to me as I headed for my side of the Wailing Wall. With the satisfaction of having sold my country positively, I strode to do my own meditation.
Israel may be called the Holy Land, but not everything is holy. You could buy fake items if you are not smart to detect it. I had the experience in Jericho, where supposed pure leather belts were on sale. A cousin had asked me to get one for him. The vendor swore to high heavens that nothing could be better than that in quality. I paid top dollar for the belt. I am ashamed to describe what it turned out to be less than two weeks after my cousin started using it. But one fake belt should not overshadow the holiness of the area, should it?
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia
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.
