Features
Over the counter
In Sikaman, I can bet that almost everybody you see is either a doctor or a pharmacist. If you’re sick, you don’t need to go to the hospital to see a doctor. Just see a friend and tell him your problem. “I have strong headache, bodily pains and loss of appetite.”
Your friend will look into your face and prophesy that you’re also suffering from constipation. Probably your nose looks like that of a chronic ‘constipator’.
“I can’t go to toilet”, you’d readily confirm.
“Don’t worry. Go and buy Chloroquine, four tablets, take two in the morning after koko and two in the evening. Also buy WL; if your stomach is hard take three, otherwise take two. Don’t forget and take four. Also don’t take it and go and board a bus to Kumasi or else you’ll set a national record.
See another friend with the same problem and he’d tell you to go and get Alagbin. “If there is no Alagbin, buy Drastin or Top Tabs. The malaria will go like water.
Meet yet another friend and he is likely to tell you, “Go and buy abom belt (terramycin or ampicillin). Take two straight. Wait for thirty minutes and balance it with three tots of raw akpeteshie. The fever will go long time. Me, this is how I cure my fever-o! Me I’ll never go to hospital and a nurse will be pricking my buttocks with a needle. I am not a fool”.
Somehow, all the four prescriptions by the unorthodox medical practitioners are effective but only to some extent. They can mask the disease called malaria and the patient will experience a sense of relief, but a relapse is inevitable.
In fact, if you’re sick of malaria and you ‘check’ a quarter of bitters, you’ll start sweating like a dock worker. Sweat will burst Alomele forth all over the body and will finally create an air-conditioner in the armpit, a sort of natural cooling system one can always rely upon.
The effect of this local alcohol which surpasses Russian Vodka in international status and ability to turn the human eye, will make you feel the malaria has been evicted from your system. In due course, you certainly will come to appreciate the fact that peters is not a cure for malaria.
From 6.30 p.m., go from one drugstore to another and you’ll see many people buying drugs over the counter. Only about five per cent of them buy with doctors’ prescription.
The rest are self-made, self-promoted doctors and pharmacists who buy butazolidin, malarex, chloroquine, phensic, baralgin, valium, cafenol, kaolin, anusol, chloramphenicol, anacin and many others by their own prescriptions.
Even you can buy syringes over the counter and that is why some herbalists are going about injecting anybody they see. In the process they distribute tetanus free of charge. They are very generous!
We are all guilty of self-medication including me Kwame Alomele. I don’t often cure my malaria by going to the doctor when I know I am also a doctor. The only difference is that I’ve not been to the medical school and sworn the Hippocratic Oath.
Although I realise that self-medication is bad, I’m compelled to do it because it saves me time. Kokotako says he self-medicates because it saves him from the wrath of private doctors who always want to empty his back pocket.
In developed countries over-the-counter drug purchases are forbidden. The druggist may sell you some pain killers and condoms if you want to have a showdown with your fiancée.
But to go to a pharmacist and say you want to buy Indocid without a doctor’s prescription is unheard of, and of course, you’d be given the marching off orders.
Self-medication is a form of drug abuse which must not be encouraged. This form of abuse is common in third world countries because families do not have their own doctors.
Ideally every family is supposed to have a family doctor who comes around periodically to examine the members, offer treatment and advice.
Any ailment is first relayed to him by phone and he gives appropriate advice. He is paid a regular fee, for these services. In Sikaman, only about one per cent of the population can afford the services of a family doctor. The money that would be used to pay the family doctor a week would be of better service if used to prepare groundnut soup that would last some three days.
So in the absence of the family doctor, many act in his stead and do their own by diagnoses, give their own prescriptions often by trial and error and risk wrong medication, under-doses, over-doses. After all, “All die be die”.
Perhaps if health services could be cheaply sought, self-medication will reduce. This brings to mind the idea of the National Health Insurance Scheme and its advantages. Certain diseases like heart ailment that need surgery to correct require between Gh¢ six and 10 million in terms of cost.
The Weekly Spectator has had to launch appeals for funds for those who need money to cure medical conditions including Hole-In-Heart. Some of these appeals will not be necessary if a National Health Insurance Scheme is in place to which anybody who values his health and life could contribute to and benefit therefrom.
This will also reduce the incidence of self-medication because your health needs will always be catered for whether you are suffering from kooko or stubborn constipation.
Perhaps, we’d want to know why the scheme is still not in place!
This article was first published on Saturday, October 15, 1994
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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.
