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Monsieur’s daughter —(Part 3)
Things were falling in place for Simon Ababio, at long last. He graduated with a degree in biology, and started off with high hopes. He got a job with a research organisation near Koforidua, where his family had settled some twenty years earlier.
He was granted study leave with pay to do a post-graduate course in plant research in the US. He managed to complete it, with great difficulty, but he decided to get a job and put some money in his pocket before returning to Ghana. More than three years later, he had virtually no money to show for his time in the US.
His employers had terminated his employment, and his sweetheart Gladys had informed him that she had entered a relationship with someone else, because for three years he had not bothered to communicate with her.
On his father’s advice, he came back home and, after pleading with his employers, was reinstated. He tracked Gladys down to Aboso. Initially she was quite unpleasant, pointing it out that she was happily married and no longer interested in an affair with a loser.
Quite stung, he persisted, bombarding her with nice stories about how things were looking up after the initial difficulties. He was going back to the US to pack up and return to Ghana. Even though she was married, he would never forget her, and he would fight to get her back. For those sweet words, he was rewarded with some unforgettable nights in a hotel.
He surfaced again some months later, assuring her that he had returned to his job with a big promotion, and pleaded with Gladys to join him. She spent another few days with him at the hotel for the thrill, but she was never going to leave David for him. Simon simply talked too much, and you could never be sure where you stood with him.
But only a few days later, Gladys chased him down to Koforidua, and made a package of demands, threats and promises. First, she informed him that her husband had gotten to know about their relationship, and their marriage was over.
Of course, she blamed Simon for the situation. And since he had been making all kinds of promises, this was the time to fulfil them. She was ready to come and settle with him. She didn’t really believe his sweet words. She knew he hadn’t made much of his life, but she was willing to support him to become a real man.
All he needed to do was stand up and make a decent effort to achieve something. She was offering him all those on one condition. He would claim Sarah as his baby, because she had made that very declaration to David.
After only one moment’s hesitation, he accepted the entire package. Gladys was of course, good looking, resourceful and intelligent. She would take care of all his needs. He didn’t have to worry about food, nor deal with those money-grabbing girls anymore.
He bribed a few relatives to perform the traditional rites, and Gladys moved to Koforidua, where she secured a job as caterer in a technical school. Simon, his new wife Gladys and their baby Sarah started life as a family.
David settled well into the Master’s Degree programme at the University of Hamburg. The seaport city offered many opportunities and attractions to a multilingual student like him.
He started lectures early and closed at one each day. After lunch at the university cafeteria, he rode the bus to the huge harbour, where numerous jobs were on offer. He did two jobs each day, one with a shipping company, and another with a company that exported trucks and heavy duty equipment. He closed at six-thirty, grabbed supper on the way home and, by nine, was comfortably tucked in bed.
He was in great demand due to his ability to speak English, German and French. He was earning good money, and life was hectic but comfortable. But he began to get lonely, especially during weekends when he preferred to work only a few hours. One evening, he wrote a short email to Adoma.
‘Dear Adoma, I hope you are doing well. I am sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. Life has been very busy since I got here. I start lectures quite early, and work in the afternoon. I get home by eight and I am asleep before nine. I can’t believe one year has already gone.
So how is everyone at Aboso? I remember the good days, but I try not to dwell on them, in order not to get homesick. I am grateful for the opportunity to have served in the school.
So what have you been up to? I would like to hear from you regularly, if you don’t mind. Remember you said you have forgiven me my sins, and that we are friends. Please don’t forget to tell me about the naughty things you have been doing. I look forward to hearing from you’.
Adoma was very surprised when David’s name popped up on her phone during morning assembly. Delighted, she slid out to the staff common room and read it. She mentally wrote the reply several times, but she waited till after closing before she keyed in these words:
‘David, it is really good to hear from you. I thought you had forgotten all about me. Many thanks for the thought. I am doing well. My life hasn’t changed much since you left town. The school is doing well. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that you are still well remembered. We won’t forget you for a long time.
I’m afraid I haven’t been able to do any naughty things yet. The closest I got was to have gone out to lunch with a guy at church who had politely told me that he was interested. During the lunch I thanked him for the attention, and told him that I was already in a relationship. Sorry to disappoint you!
Yes, David, I have forgiven you. Now that you have raised the topic again, perhaps I can tell you this. I really cared about you. I was very confident that in the near future you would realise that and ‘raise your game’, having already told me that you wanted us to be seeing each other. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the other lady coming at you with blinding force and speed. So now you have it. I will certainly like us to keep in touch. One thing, though. Perhaps you should be kind enough to alert me about the presence of ‘opposition forces’. David replied that evening.
‘Adoma, thanks for your reply, which I have read many times. First of all, can you please make sure that no intruder invites you to breakfast or lunch ever again? Secondly, I wish I had learnt about how much you cared for me. For me, that is the main ingredient in a successful relationship. I won’t repeat the mistake. Okay, now I want to hear from you very regularly. I would like to raise my game. I hope to see you in the near future’.
From then, things moved at steady speed, and after the performance of the customary rites, Adoma spent three months with David, a pattern which continued for the five years that he stayed in Germany.
By Ekow de Heer
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.
