Features
Jobless thousands in Sikaman-Part One
It is normally the desire of every human being, of sound mind, to work for the sake of his stomach and that of his dependants. It is also true that some indolent fatheads always want to be bellyful without desiring to work.
In any case, the good old Lord has since the beginning of time declared: “Не that does not want to work, let him not eat.”
Obviously, when the Lord made this declaration there was nothing like unemployment or retrenchment of workers, known in Sikaman jargon as redeployment.
In Sikaman today, like elsewhere, many people really want to work but it appears the work can be found only in heaven, not Sikaman.
Thousands of both the educated and uneducated grieve in their hearts for the lack of something small doing to earn them their daily bread and to buy clothes to cover their nakedness.
Indeed, many able-bodied persons aged over forty, highly educated and willing to work roam the streets, living on petty charities and the magnanimous hands of sympathisers.
The declaration of the Lord will have to be amended: “Blame not he who wants to work but has no work to do. The state must feed him.”
This is already being applied in some advanced countries, where the jobless enjoy unemployment benefits that cater for food, clothing, accommodation and incidental expenses. And the equivalent of money paid to a jobless man in the US for instance is about four times the salary of a Managing Director in Sikaman.
PROGRAMME
Understandably, however, the resources of Third World countries cannot accommodate such programmes for the unfortunate thousands who are jobless and destitute. And so be it in Sikaman.
Let’s come to the investments parents make to educate their wards. When parents are paying school fees, they don’t do so just for the sake of it. They pay school fees in the hope that the child would become educated, responsible and independent. And perhaps in a reciprocal gesture, the child would look after them in their old age.
But today, many parents do not reap the fruits of what they have sown. Their wards complete school and stay at home jobless, still depending on their ageing parents to feed them three solid times a day. The parents become tired feeding their well-educated but jobless children.
When they can’t continue feeding them any longer, they either resign or leave the children to their fate or they die to end it all. They can’t continue like that, feeding able- bodied wards who are old enough to have children. There is no one to feed at the cemetery, anyway, so why not rest there in peace?
Every school-going child also entertains a dream – a dream of becoming a responsible fellow in gainful employment after completing “college”. This dream lingers all through secondary school days.
When a child completes and his grades are terribly bad then he is in trouble. Because messengers are now Level holders, an ‘O’ Level dropout must start to discard the idea of becoming a lawyer or space engineer and start thinking about how to become a cobbler i.e. shoemaker or an apprentice to a tailor.
If he is brilliant enough to get to Sixth form, he is going to experience hell, unless he squeezes through academic net and enters university.
Otherwise, and because there is no job befitting his status, he’d have to do as a messenger, a post that is politely referred to as junior clerk. If that is also hard to come and he doesn’t want to be a ‘housewife,’ then he start making a living the hard way.
Indeed, many certificate holders are today seriously engaged selling dog chains, air refreshners, ice-kenkey, meat-pie and chamber pots. No kidding, dear reader, it is what is actually happening in the Kenkey Kingdom.
When the child, however, gets admission into university, he believes he is in paradise. Soon, he’d graduate with a Bachelor of Science (Honours) and become a man.” Some even entertain the illusion of chauffeur- cars. And sure he passes his exams with excellence, earning him a Second Class Upper (Hons).
The graduation ceremony is superbly organised. The Head of State or his representative is ever-present to offer a very inspiring speech. Cameras flash around and coloured pictures are taken.
Meanwhile the graduates appear in their gowns known as acapompo in allusion to academic pomposity. Then they retire home and start trotting in readiness for national service. Of course one must serve his nation.
In fact, national service becomes a real breather for graduates who, otherwise, would have been unemployed straight from school. Doing the service at Karni JSS (Upper West) or with the Community Improvement Unit (CIU) at Kordiabe Junction, the serviceman can at least earn something to buy ‘supporter’ and ‘charlie-wote’ and drink beer once in a month.
Adjustment
It is when the national service period is grinding to a halt that the graduates begin having nightmares. They have terrifying dreams about IMF, structural adjustment, freeze on employment, increase in the price of kenkey, Saddam Hussein and others.
Some expect to be retained in their departments after national service but, more often than not, they are told: “You’ve been a hard worker, intelligent and respectful. We would have wanted to retain you. Unfortunately, however, we are allergic to retaining servicemen just like how some people are allergic to Chloroquine. So please pack your things and go away peacefully. Peace be with you and with us.”
The graduate comes to realise that academic qualification is not all there is to life. But he must not lose hope at this crucial stage in his life. He must start writing applications. He approaches his mummy: “I want to buy seven official envelops, seven official papers and stamps. I must apply to all the companies in Sikaman. At least three of them will click, and I can choose the best of the three. “Yes, he must start begging for a job, irrespective of his qualifications.
In colonial times, writing application for a job was altogether a laborious venture bordering on the use of highfalutin language and linguistic gymnastics. And the jobs were available for qualified personnel.
Today, we write in simple language and as simply as that, there are no jobs. Perhaps applicants of today will have to write something similar to what a Pitman shorthand college graduate wrote some three decades ago.
“I wish to apply for employment in your highly- esteemed company. … My achievements in the realm of Pitmanization have been noised hither and yon, and I am accordingly indelibly impressed with your restrained solicitation in the publications for a stenographical secretarial amanuensis.
“Fortunately, I am at the present a member of the regimentation of unemployed and am therefore at liberty to consolidate my interests with your own at a moment’s notification.
“Both by educational attainment and experiential service, I am pre-eminently qualified to render you superlative performances in the acknowledged artistry of abbreviated communication. I remain, your humble servant… signed”
Dear reader, the discussion continues next week.
*This article was first published on May 4, 1991*
Attention-Deficit or Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is often mistaken for laziness or indiscipline. In consulting rooms across Accra and in reports from school teachers, the pattern repeats: children who are bright but forgetful, parents who feel helpless, teachers who see incompleteness.
Research is clear-Barkley (2015) and others describe ADHD as a difference in the brain’s regulation of alertness, impulse and working memory, not a lack of effort.
The family’s role begins with structure. Regular sleep, predictable meal and homework times, and a simple visual list (uniform → books → water → corridor) provide the external scaffolding of these children need. Praise what is completed—“You opened the book and wrote the first sentence”-instead of rebuking what is missing.
Schools can help by seating the child front-row and centre, giving short written plus verbal instructions, allowing brief movement breaks, using quiet nonverbal cues and, where possible, grading effort and method as well as neatness. These adjustments reduce conflict and raise submission rates without lowering standards.
Couples and caregivers should share roles: one grounds, one pivots, and both protect rest. Shame-“bad parenting, bad child”-needs replacing with fact: different wiring, needs scaffolding.
Outcomes improve not by promises of perfection but by daily routines, clear limits and warmed connection. One homework slot kept, one instruction chunked, one calm repair after blurting-these small wins shift the family climate and let the child be seen beyond the label.
Resource
• CPAC (award-winning Mental Health and Counselling Facility): 0559850604 / 0551428486
Source: REV. COUNSELLOR PRINCE OFFEI’s insights on special needs support, relationships, and mental health in Ghana. He is a leading mental health professional, lecturer, ADR Expert/Arbitrator, renowned author, and marriage counsellor at COUNSELLOR PRINCE & ASSOCIATES CONSULT (CPAC COUNSELLOR TRAINING INSTITUTE) – 0551428486 /0559850604.
WEBSITES:
https://princeoffei22.wixsite.com/author
https://princeoffei22.wixsite.com/website
After two weeks of hectic activity up north, I drove to the Tamale airport, parked the car at the Civil Aviation car park as usual, paid the usual parking fee and boarded the plane for Accra.
Over the last two weeks, I had shuffled between three sites where work was close to completion.
One was a seed warehouse, where farmers would come and pick up good quality maize, sorghum and other planting material.
The other was a health facility for new mothers, where they were given basic training on good nutrition and small scale business.
And the third was a set of big boreholes for three farming communities.
The projects usually ran on schedule, but a good deal of time was spent building rapport with the local people, to ensure that they would be well patronised and maintained.
It was great to be working in a situation where one’s work was well appreciated. But it certainly involved a lot of work, and proactivity. And I made sure that I recorded updates online before going to bed in the evening.
When the plane took off, my mind shifted to issues in Accra, the big city. The young guys at my office had done some good work. They had secured five or six houses on a row in a good part of the city, and were close to securing the last.
When we got this property, unusually, Abena greeted them casually, and appeared to be comfortable in the guy’s company.
I was quite disappointed to hear that, because until the last few weeks, it seemed as if Abena and I were heading in a good direction. Apart from the affection I had for her, I liked her family. I decided to take it easy, and allow things to fall in whatever direction.
Normally I would take a taxi to her house from the airport, and pick her up to my place. This time I went to my sisters’ joint, where they sat by me while I enjoyed a drink and a good meal.
“So Little Brother,” Sister Beesiwa said, “what is it we are hearing about our wife-to-be?”
“When did you conclude that she was your wife-to-be? And what have you heard? I’ve only heard a couple of whispers. Ebo and Nana Kwame called to say that they have seen her in the company of—”
“Well said Little Brother,” Sister Baaba said. “By the way, Nana Kwame called an hour ago to ask if you had arrived because he could not reach you. Someone had told him that Jennifer had boasted to someone that she had connected Abena to a wealthy guy who would take care of her.”
I was beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.
“In that case,” Sister Beesiwa said, “you should be glad that Abena is out of your way. She is easily swayed. Anyone who would make a relationship decision based on a friend’s instigation lacks good sense. I hope the guy is as wealthy as they say?”
“Who gets wealthy running a supermarket chain in Ghana?” Sister Baaba said. “Our supermarkets sell mostly imported products. Look at the foreign exchange rate. And remember that Ghanaians buy second-hand shoes and clothes. Supermarkets are not good business here. Perhaps they are showing off that they are wealthy, but in reality they are not doing so well.”
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.”
She said that David Forson was only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her. And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. We would be able to sell all five houses to one big corporate customer, and we had already spoken to a property dealer who was trying to find a buyer in order to get a good commission.
That was going to be my biggest break. I had asked the boys to look for a large tract of land on the outskirts of the city where we could develop our own set of buildings, blocks of storey houses and upscale apartments. Things were going according to plan, and I was quietly excited. However, things were not going so well regarding my relationship with Abena.
My buddies Ebo and Nana Kwame had called to say that they met Abena and her friend Jennifer enjoying lunch with a guy, and Ebo believed that Jennifer was ‘promoting’ an affair between Jennifer and the guy. They were of the view that the promotion seemed to be going in the guy’s favour, because only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her.
And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“As I’ve already said, I will stop by her place, but I will mind my own business from now. Hey, let’s talk family. How are our parents? And my brothers-in-law? And my nephews and nieces? Why don’t we meet on Sunday? I’m going to drop my bags at my place, and go to see Mama and Dad.”
