Features
Of professionals and good living
Smiling black woman speaking on smartphone in office
Today, everybody is a professional or claims to be. As such watch repairers, waakye sellers, dog-chain peddlers, way-side preacher men, armed robbers, among others, now call themselves professionals and go away scot free.
In similar manner, we have people who call themselves professional unemployed, and professional students, whatever that means. I’m often surprised why doctors, journalists, teachers and lawyers do not protest.
I am however, tempted to believe that the true professionals are silently protesting by refusing to call themselves professionals because they cannot be unequally yoked with non-professionals who are fighting day and night to appropriate the appellation for themselves.
When ‘professionals’ in the costume of grave-looters, chop-bar operators and city magicians decide to leave Sikaman to work for ‘bread and butter’ in Namibia, Syria or West Germany (better known as Jaamani), there is usually no cause for alarm. Even in certain quarters, their exit is very welcome since certain social problems like burglary, prostitution and unemployment are minimised when they flock away. Also, there will be less mouths to feed. Times are hard!
In polar-opposite stance to this, there is always a hue and cry when recognised professionals, especially doctors and teachers start talking about colour televisions, deep- freezers, video-decks, and portable cars, all of which could be obtained in countries where gold is supposed to be lining street pavements.
In the 70’s, Nigeria (Agege) was the action spot from where even construction- labourers could return home flaunting two- in-one tape recorders, sweet-smelling toilet-soap, economy-size Omo packets, track-suits, black-and-white television sets and many more. Some even came with Lagosian wives and their Yoruba children trailing behind them, grinning happily to be in Sikaman.
In those days it was the teachers who quickly detected the oil-boom. Having got to Nigeria, some even decided to abandon the profession to slave in any menial job if only that could bring in Naira for show in Sikaman.
In the heat of the mass exodus, our classrooms were abandoned while teachers joined the Agege-train. The situation became a national problem as pupils could hardly spell their own names.
Meanwhile, Nigerian classrooms became filled with trained teachers from Sikaman. It was only when Ali Baba (then Nigeria Interior Minister) decided that enough was enough that Sikaman exiles started crying back home. Incidentally, the reputed land of milk-and-honey was not what it used to be. Nigerians had their own problems to solve.
Quite recently, teachers attempted another professional uprising when they started heading for Zambia which many described as the newly-found pasture. Then came the Namibia independence. Sikaman dwellers immediately equated independence with prosperity and began making plans to go and partake of the wealth. Many did go and surely got frustrated. Many were also duped and are still nursing the pain.
Day in day out, intellectuals keep seeking greener pastures. However, some teachers and other professionals who are patriotic enough to stay are making extra incomes by engaging themselves as susu collectors, backyard gardeners, poultry farmers, lotto forecasters, etc. If these are lucrative side- lines, one wonders why there is still the rush to go away to slug it out in strange and at times hostile environment.
The ‘hustle’ in Sikaman is not cheap. However, my colleague BABA ABDULAI, who says he has graduated from the college of the streets with a Doctor of Philosophy degree (PhD) in how to make ends meet, is a native who knows how to survive in hard times without going to Namibia.
Unlike Baba Abdulai, doctors in the golden territory are unable to bear the ‘weather,’ and it is quite disheartening when we hear that many of them are leaving to the United Kingdom, United States, Saudi Arabia and even South Africa.
To some people, this is quite understandable since they contend that some doctors do not want to stay on and be tempted to make ends meet by running abortion clinics. More so, it would be quite difficult for a doctor to work part-time as a city-magician or lotto professor. At least, that is what my pal, Samuel Akwador, of Tema site 14, observes. According to him, the medical profession is a noble one.
The exodus of doctors began way back in 1983. In 1988/89 it became a national headache as they flocked away like cattle- egrets dodging the winter. Today, the doctor-patient ratio is 1:13,000. This means, for every 13,000 people there is only one doctor to do the diagnoses and treatment. This is very alarming because health is indispensable to national development. Indeed, when teachers are running away to other countries it is not as serious as when doctors are packing their stethoscopes and medical brains into briefcases and trotting to the airport. We need the doctors here and something radical must be done to keep them here.
The reasons why our doctors do not want to stay are too obvious to state here. I hear the authorities have taken certain positive steps to make them comfortable. But it appears the doctors want to be VERY comfortable. They want furnished apartments, videos, refrigerators, gas-cookers, portable cars and everything that adds to making a comfortable living.
Somehow, the government can help them in a way, but of course only to the point it can afford to. It is my suggestion that a hire-purchase system be instituted, through which doctors can obtain all the niceties of modern living without first having to pay the huge down-payments demanded by certain hire-purchase outfits. Immediately deposits are demanded for these items, like the 35per cent demanded by some, the very idea takes off as a non-starter.
In addition, the payment for these items must be spread over relatively long periods so that doctors do not feel the pinch when it comes to the economy of take-home pays.
Doctors must, however, be a little patriotic to bear with the situation. Everyone realises that their conditions of service are not too good, and that is why they do not accept postings to the rural areas, for instance. But since no one is living too cosy either, we hope that they will also stay and help build the nation. A little sacrifice will do the trick.
When Abigail Fremah steps up to the Armwrestling table, the noise fades, the tension settles, and order takes over.
Despite a calm, but firm and meticulous disposition, she has become one of the quiet forces shaping Ghana’s growing reputation in the sport, not as an athlete, but a referee trusted on the continental stage.
Abigail’s journey into Armwrestling did not begin at the table. Like many Ghanaian sports enthusiasts, she grew up playing several disciplines. Football was her first love, but she also featured in volleyball and basketball during her school years. Sports, she says, was simply a way of life not just for her.
“It runs through the family. All my siblings are into sports,” she stated.
“I was involved in almost every sport in school, football, volleyball, netball, hockey; I did everything,” she recalls.
Her academic background in Health, Physical Education and Recreation laid a solid foundation for her sporting career. While on scholarship at the university (University of Cape Coast), she often used her modest budget to support young athletes, sometimes sharing skills and even T-shirts at programmes she attended. Giving back, she explains, has always been part of her motivation.
However, as she matured as an athlete, Abigail made a critical self-assessment.
“Armwrestling involves a lot of strength,” she admits. “Looking at my body type, I realised I couldn’t fit properly as a competitive athlete.”
That moment of honesty pushed her to a different trajectory but equally important path in sports; which is officiating.
During her National Service, she was encouraged by Mr Charles Osei Asibey, the President of the Ghana Armwrestling Federation (GAF), to consider officiating. He introduced her to a technical official, Mr Hussein Akuerteh Addy, who formally took her through the basics of Armwrestling officiating in 2021.
“I started as a case official,” she says. “We moved from region to region every week, officiating competitions. That’s where it all began.”
By 2022, Abigail was actively involved in national assignments, though she missed the African Championship that year. Her breakthrough came in 2023, when Ghana hosted the African Armwrestling Championship.
It was her first experience officiating at a major international competition and it changed everything.
“That was my first national and international exposure at the same time,” she says. “It really opened my eyes.”
Today, Abigail is a World Junior Armwrestling Referee, a status earned through performance, consistency and discipline. She explains that progression in officiating was not automatic.
“It’s all about performance, your appearance at African Championships, your conduct, how you handle pressure; that’s what takes you to the world level,” she stressed.
As a referee, Abigail’s priority is safety and fairness. Armwrestling, she notes, comes with risks, particularly injuries to the wrists, elbows, shoulders and arms.
“If athletes don’t follow the rules or refuse to listen to officials, injuries can happen,” she explains, adding that focus was everything.
Before every match, she ensures that all equipment which includes elbow pads, hand pegs and table alignment were properly set. Athletes are not allowed to cover their elbows, must grip correctly, and must follow the referee’s commands precisely.
“We make sure everything is fixed before the grip,” she says. “Once we say ‘Ready… Go’, there should be no confusion.”
She is also firm on discipline. Warnings are issued for infractions, and repeated misconduct attracts penalties.
“The referee must be respected, if you don’t listen, the rules will deal with you,” she says.
Abigail credits her confidence partly to her sporting family background. Her mother was a volleyball player, while other family members also participated in sports. Though they were initially concerned about her safety, her rise to the top reassured them.
“They were afraid at first,” she admits. “But they were also very proud, especially because some of them never got the opportunity to reach this level.”
Looking ahead, Abigail is optimistic about the future of Armwrestling in Ghana. In less than a decade, the country has produced African and world-level medalists, a sign, she believes, of great things to come for Ghana.
“Whenever we go out, we come back with medals such as gold and silver,” she says, and to her that was a sign of growth.
In the next five to ten years, Abigail sees herself rising to become a World Master Referee, the highest officiating level in the sport. Until then, her routine remains intense, training four times a week, working closely with athletes, standing on her feet for hours, and constantly refining her understanding of the rules.
“I love this sport,” she says simply. “That love is what keeps me going.”
Abigail encouraged women to be bold and intentional about their place in sports saying “don’t limit yourself because of fear or stereotypes.”
She also urged women to invest in learning, discipline and consistency, stressing that respect was earned through performance.
For Abigail, as Ghana’s armwrestlers continue to make their mark, she will remain where she is most effective at the table, ensuring the game is played right.
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
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As he had promised Aperkeh, the elderly man and his wife and three daughters stopped by Aperkeh’s parents’ house. Mr Amando and his family were preparing to settle in for the night.
“Brother Ben and family”, Mr Joshua Amando said warmly, “although I know you are here on a matter that can hardly be described as joyous, it is still good to see you. You are welcome. Please sit down while I bring you water”.
“Yes, we will take water, even though we are hardly thirsty, because this is our home”.
“Okay, Ben”, he started after they had drank, “Let me go straight to the point. My daughter Priscilla has told me about the goings on between her brother Aperkeh and our daughter Stella.
Before informing me, Priscilla had expressed concern to Aperkeh about some habits he is adopting, especially the late nights and the drinking. She tells me that one Saturday morning, she was there when Stella complained about his drinking and some girls who had come to the house to look for him, and he assaulted her.
I called him and complained, but all he could say was that I don’t know what caused him to react that way, so I could not judge him. Now he does not answer my calls.
I have sent Priscilla to his house to call him, but he has refused to come. Unfortunately, Ben, my son is a much different person than the young boy who completed university and started work at the bank. I am really embarrassed about his treatment of Stella”.
“Joshua, let me assure you that even though what is happening is very unfortunate, it will not affect our relationship.
We have been friends since childhood, and I thought that with their parents’ blessing, the relationship between Aperkeh and Stella would grow to become a blessing to all of us. But there appears to be a real challenge now.
Stella thinks that Aperkeh wants her out of his house, and indeed Aperkeh himself told me that, about an hour ago.
So I’m taking my daughter home. I suggest that you do what you can to straighten him out, but if it does not work out, let’s accept the situation and continue to be one family.
I am sure that being the well behaved girl that she is, Stella will meet a young man who will cherish her. Fortunately, this problem is happening early in the day, so they can sort things out if possible, or move on with their lives if they are unable to stay together”.
“I’m really grateful for that, Ben. I will do my best in the next few days to reason with him, because apart from the relationship with Stella, Aperkeh is risking his job and career with this lifestyle.
A good job and salary offers an opportunity to gather momentum in life, not to destroy yourself”.
“Okay Brother Joshua. We will say goodnight. I hope to hear positive news from you”.
As he descended in the lift from the fourth to the ground floor, Aperkeh wondered who would be waiting at the reception to see him at nine on Monday morning. He had spent good time with both of his new girls during the weekend, so it had to be someone else. He got out of the lift and pulled a face when he saw Priscilla.
“Priscilla”, he said as he sat down by her, “what do you want here? You know Monday morning is a busy time at the bank. I am a very busy person, so say what you want, I have work to do”.
“You are very funny, Aperkeh. You are telling me, your sister, that you have work to do, so I should hurry up? Okay, Dad says I should advise you to come home tonight, because he wants to discuss the issue of Stella with you. He sent me to you twice, and you did not come.
He has tried to call you quite a number of times, but you have refused to answer his calls. He says that if you do not come tonight, you will be very surprised at what he will do. He says you will not like it at all, so better come.
“What is all this? Why won’t you people leave me alone? Stella is very disrespectful. I told her that if she wanted to continue to live in my house, she must obey me. It is that simple.
She chose to continue ordering me about, controlling me in my own house, so I told her that if she could not live under my conditions she should leave. And she left. In fact, her own father came and took her away. So what again?’’
“How did she disobey or control you? Was she complaining about your continuous drinking and late nights? And did you slap her on several occasions because of that? Did you tell her that if she could not live under your conditions she should leave? You actually said that to her father? You have forgotten that before she came to live with you, our two parents met and agreed, and gave it their blessing?’
“Why don’t you leave, Priscilla? I don’t have to listen to all that”. “Okay, I will go. Your father who gave birth to you and educated you to university level sends me to you, and you ask me to leave? I wish you would defy him, and refuse to come home as he’s telling you, because he is planning to give you the discipline you badly need. Let me tell you. Stella is such a beautiful and decent girl, and I assure you that someone will grab her before you say Jack. You are only 30 years old, and you have already become a drunkard”.
As he walked towards the lift, Aperkeh decided on what to do. He would go home, and calmly listen to what his father had to say. The old man was very unpredictable, and he wouldn’t dare ignore him. So he would take all the insults and threats, but as for Stella she was history. According to Priscilla, Stella was beautiful and all that, but she had not seen the two curvaceous princesses who were all over him, ready to do anything he asked. And these were not barely literate waakye girls, but university graduates from wealthy homes, really classy girls. With stuff like that, who needs a waakye girl? He smiled as he took his seat.
A few minutes to five, Aperkeh was packing up to leave for home to meet his dad when his phone rang. It was Priscilla.
“Aperkeh, Dad says you don’t need to bother to come. Stella’s dad says she came to him early this morning to plead that she would rather stay at home than return to your house. She thinks you are already decided to be rid of her, and she does not want to risk being assaulted again. So it’s done. You can go ahead and enjoy the nice life you have started”.
Before he could tell her to go to hell, Priscilla hanged up the line. He was partially stung that his dad had virtually cut him off. The last thing anyone would want was to fall out of relationship with his own family, which had always supported him.
But the truth was he was no longer interested in Stella. What was wrong with going by one’s feelings? He could only hope that one day, his parents and sister would try to reason with him.
By Ekow de Heer
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