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Of professionals and good living

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Smiling black woman speaking on smartphone in office

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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MPs, churches, bad dressing 

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GHANA’S Parliament is a peaceful one. The arguments on the floor of the House can be fierce, but the House doesn’t catch fire. Ghana’s democracy has passed the acid-test of constitutional pluralism, and her legislature is a model of democratic beauty others are learning from.

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Sikaman Palava

Sometimes it is edifying following proceedings in Parliament and you are likely to catch the voice of Honourable Alban Bagbin in full flight. He doesn’t talk much. His English vocabulary does the talking.

Last week, I heard another MP talking on bad dressing, and I must congratulate him on his brilliant exhibition of vocabulary, delivered in Westminster tradition.

Such explosive delivery titillates the floor of the House and brings joy to members and Mr Speaker.

In the parliament of some countries, there is no need for such niceties. The floor of the House is regarded as a battle ground. Others, including lady members, see it as a boxing ring, where the spoken word is often jettisoned and supplanted with punches and upper-cuts.

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PART-TIME

So the average parliamentarian trains part-time as a boxer, in case boxing skills will be needed in the House to iron out knotty points.

The ladies’ pedicure and manicure are carefully designed to fulfil a dual purpose. One is to showcase trendiness and the other is to scratch the faces of opponents in the House whether they are ladies or gentlemen. 

Sometimes, the Speaker has to keep shouting and banging for well over 15 minutes as a recalcitrant MP dashes across and grabs the tie of another MP, thus precipitating a free-for-all brawl. Some MPs return home with a half nose, a missing left ear and a double forehead.

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None of the offending parties is sanctioned because brawling in parliament is seen as a democratic process, since some MPs are so stubborn that only a sidekick to the ribs can mellow them. Meanwhile, a free-for-all is good exercise for the MPs, some of whom have grown too fat due to over-feeding.

Fortunately, the parliament of Sikaman has a civil democratic culture and debates get fierce but punches are not unleashed. For comic relief however, MPs do some break dancing once in a while.

When ROPAB was passed into law, some MPs caused a stir by bursting into song and dance. Mr. Speaker was be wildered, but obviously pleased that his announcement of the passage of the bill had brought joy to the House.

Others were not happy, though. The bill and the debates had caused them enough distress. As for the passage, it was like cutting their throats. They groaned in their hearts. No punches, no karate. That is democracy in its maturing stage. It is tempered with reason and civility. One day, it will be their turn to laugh and dance.

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Now, the MP who spoke on bad dressing did a good job by all standards and added value to his delivery by going highfalutin. He wanted a law to be enacted against bad dressing, because it was not good for society.

What constitutes bad dressing? That is a very difficult question. Judging what is good or bad as far as dressing is concerned will obviously depend on the setting or context.

For example, going virtually naked on a holiday beach is considered good dressing. But when a man and his wife storm a church room in their birth-time suits (naked) the pastor and his deacons will surely take cover. It means a sartorial revolution has precipitated and only the Holy Spirit can hold tempers at bay.

STYLISH

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In the streets of Sikaman, a lady with a very short skirt is admired by some as trendy and stylish. Others would think she is indecent and a bad influence. But the question that arises ultimately is this: Don’t people have the right to wear what they want to wear, so long as the unseemly parts of their bodies are not laid bare?

Certainly, nobody will go totally naked in the streets, unless the person is either in-sane or is a Black Stars supporter painted in the national colours. Even then, he’d be in what is called ‘pioto,’ with his ‘instrument’ well-positioned. That is called proper dressing.

So in the streets, this kind of dressing will be considered good or bad depending on the setting and the extent of exposure of the private parts (breasts, thighs, lower back, buttocks, etc).

Personally, I feel the churches should be very scrupulous about the dressing of those who go in to worship. The ushers should be tasked with ushering away badly-dressed worshippers. Incidentally, they are the worshippers who like the front pews, and the pastor is so distracted he can’t preach any meaningful sermon.

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However, a law on dressing is something I won’t advocate, for the simple reason that, first, there is no clear definition of what is bad dressing and second, society must be left to evolve its own dress culture so that fashion and creativity in fashion design will not be stifle Any law to regulate dressing will kill such creativity.

This article was first published on Saturday July, 2006

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The body under siege: how long-term stress wears you down                                                          

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​Most people think stress is just in your head. When you feel overwhelmed, overworked, or emotionally drained, you might think you just need a good night’s sleep or a quick mental break.

​However, science and biology show us something entirely different. Chronic, long-term stress is not just an emotion—it is a full-body physical condition. When you live in a constant state of survival mode, pushing past your limits without real rest, your body pays a very heavy physical price.

​Here is a clear, step-by-step look at how ongoing stress physically breaks down the human body, explained simply.

Step 1: The endless flood of stress chemicals

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​What happens normally: When you face a sudden emergency, your body releases stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol. They give you a quick burst of energy, speed up your heart, and help you react fast. This is a great survival tool for short bursts.

How stress breaks you down: If you never truly relax, your body never turns off that alarm. Your bloodstream stays flooded with cortisol and adrenaline day after day. Over time, having these chemicals constantly sloshing around acts like a slow poison. It damages your blood vessels, raises your blood pressure, messes with your metabolism, and even wears down your DNA, making you age faster.

Step 2: The silent internal fire (Chronic Inflammation)

What happens normally: When your brain senses danger or stress, it assumes you might get hurt, so it tells your immune system to cause inflammation (swelling and heat) to fight off germs and heal injuries.

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How stress breaks you down: When stress lasts for months or years, your immune system gets confused and leaves that “fire” burning permanently. Instead of healing an injury, this silent internal inflammation starts attacking your healthy cells, joints, and organs. Over time, it paves the way for serious health issues, heart trouble, and total body fatigue.

Step 3: Turning your muscles into armor (Fascial Hardening)

What happens normally: Your body is wrapped in a web of strong connective tissue called fascia that holds your muscles, bones, and organs together. When you face pressure or trauma, that tissue automatically tightens up to protect you like a suit of armor.

How stress breaks you down: If you stay tense for years, that tissue never softens back up. It freezes in place, creating tight, painful physical knots (often called emotional lesions). Blood and oxygen can’t flow easily through those locked-up areas, leaving you stiff, aching, and physically unable to truly let go of tension.

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Step 4: Burning out your body’s engine (Nervous System Overdrive)

What happens normally: Your nervous system has two main gears:

​The Gas Pedal (fight-or-flight mode for dealing with emergencies).

​The Brake Pedal (rest-and-digest mode for healing and repairing your body).

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How stress breaks you down: Chronic stress forces your foot down hard on the gas pedal 24/7. Your heart beats faster than it should, your digestion shuts down, and your body is denied the deep rest it needs to repair itself. Eventually, your heart and nervous system run completely out of fuel from sheer exhaustion.

Reclaiming your health and sovereignty

​Chronic stress wears you down slowly by keeping your body chemically toxic, inflamed, and locked-up in physical armour, and running on empty.

​By understanding that stress is a physical breakdown rather than just a bad mood, you can stop glorifying endless endurance. It allows you to recognise when your body is screaming for a reset, helping you shift away from burnout and back toward true physical calm, balance, and sovereignty.

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