Features
Rats and corpses in transit
THE journey from life to death is a musical one. The human corpse knows not what is happening but the soul exists and plays the music of life after death. Sometimes becoming a ghost to frighten and plays the music threat to little children and adults too. Of course, older people are more scared of ghosts than their children; what a shame!
The problem with the dead, at least at the mortuaries, is not a ghostly one, however. It is one of temperature. It is somewhat of a tradition that those who refuse to continue living are detained in custody probably against their will. It is a sort of transit point with extremely low temperatures such that a woman being (human being) can be likened to frown tune.
This is necessary pre-burial procedure and every corpse, no matter the height, social status or volume of moustache must enjoy a full-air-conditioned living status in a transit quarters.
If this is not done and properly too, people in the area cannot breathe. Perhaps if you visit Rwanda, you’ll realise the nasal implications of what I’m driving at. Till this very day, corpses are still floating in rivers, a painful reminder of the stupidity of war.
Preserving human corpses in Sikaman has become a big problem of late. Recently, when Spectator reporters visited the Korle Bu Mortuary, they found corpses rotting. When the landlords of the mortuary — rats — were asked to comment on the situation, they simply scurried away. Fat well-fed rats they were and had practically no respect for anybody. These days, even rats don’t respect.
Last week, the Mirror also reported that 200 dead bodies “have been crammed into refrigerated chambers meant for 72 at the Korle Bu Teaching Hospital, because there is nowhere in the capital that has room for preserving corpses.
As you can imagine, the situation is such for the dead bodies to move about for fresh air and that, certainly, is against the freedom of movement, which is a violation of the Constitution.
According to the report, the Police Hospital cold room with a 30-sleeper capacity has also been jammed with 60 bodies and Ridge Hospital which takes only six has been forced to do with 12. In effect, some of the corpses are ‘perching’. Many of them are in fact gate-crashers.
When it happens this way, identifying corpses for burial becomes a problem. One problem is that the corpses are notorious for changing their positions without obtaining permission. This has to do with the mortuary-men though.
After they’ve fixed your corpse and you’re gone, immediately another corpse arrives and the owners grease palms and your corpse will be moved to Siberia and the new candidate put in its place.
The next time you come to check whether your corpse is in good condition and enjoying the breeze, you are certain to find it in an entirely different place, a place you won’t like. If you’re not lucky, you’ll find it outside the freezer, an indication that you didn’t apply grease to the required quantity.
So what it means is that you have to be constantly greasing palms to avoid the problem of your corpse being made to participate in the game of elimination by substitution. The day you take away your body for burial, you also cease greasing palms. And all these would not have been the case if there were ample space and every corpse is offered the “one-man one-seat” VIP treatment.
There are many factors that contribute to the over-population of corpses. And one of them is that Sikaman natives do not want to bury their corpses in good time. Some wait for well over three months because the family has not even agreed as to whether the corpse should be buried, much more where it should be buried.
It is surprising that these things go on in spite of high mortuary fees. If every deceased person could be buried at most two weeks after death, the congestion will greatly reduce. But this will never be so in Sikaman.
A funeral committee will be set up with special powers to legislate, if not decree on how the corpse should be decorated, how many cartons of beer and gallons of akpeteshie must be bought, which brand of coffin must be procured and whether the corpse should be laid in state with a punk haircut or with sakora.
And suddenly, someone who has never worn a decent pair of trousers all throughout his life appears in a three-piece suit, but refusing to smile. Obviously it is not happy about the posthumous sartorial award. Why didn’t they give him the suit when he was alive?
Before the funeral committee finalises plans, the mortuary bill hits 2800.000 more, and this will surely be paid. What vanity, a pathetic instance of the vain gloriousness of the Sikaman mentality!
In Northern Nigeria, as I’ve once said; the Hausa’s don’t have time for this ‘nonsense.” If you say you’re dead, you’ll be given a grace period of three hours to wake up and apologise for your pretensions. After three hours, no one gives you extra-time.
Fact is that the situation is not synonymous with that of a game of soccer. You’ll be buried pronto and that ends it.
In some parts of the world, mortuaries are not necessary except for autopsy purposes. Corpses are cremated and people subscribe to it because of the belief, however misplaced, that when a body is cremated the soul finds immediate solace and heads straight to its maker.
In Sikaman, cremation has never been given any thought for the very fact that it is not part of our way of life. To burn man like khebab is not the Ghanaian’s idea of an obituary, so the problem of mortuary space will persist.
Another fact is that in this country, even when it comes to dealing with dead bodies, the state handles the matter, which in fact should not be the case.
Elsewhere, mortuary matters are dealt with by licensed private companies. And corpses are better treated by undertakers who are paid for the job. Corpses are bathed, put in polythene and decently preserved.
In our mortuaries, corpses are treated too indecently. The ‘mortuary-men’ do not even have the courtesy to say ‘good-morning” to the dead bodies. At least they deserve a ‘hello’ and, “Have you had a nice sleep? Looks like, you’re having a headache. How about trimming your moustache a bit.”
Private mortuaries! Isn’t it time we had them and left the rats to their arrogance at the over-crowded government hospital mortuaries?
This article was first published on Saturday, December 10, 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.
