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Tears and joy of service
The time is again ripe for us to call some people ex-national service personnel. They are the new group of people who must start learning how to sing songs like “Hark My Soul,” a sorrowful anthem of all jobless people.
The song is a choral appeal to God to intercede on their behalf so that “morning waakye” will not become a palaver.
Just as some are out-going national servicemen, others are preparing to become in-going servicemen. And I’m glad to hear that these days people are accepting postings to the rural areas because conditions in the countryside are no longer too bad. Ask Mr David Kanyi, the Greater Accra Regional Coordinator of NSS and he’d brief vou.
At least you won’t be infected by the guinea worm. If anything, it is the roundworm which would present a problem like it did to Ali, otherwise known as Emmanuel Lawer, a classmate of my younger brother Alor.
In fact, the worms, contrary to medical logic, made Ali a very prosperous person during the course of his national service. His belly was growing bigger and bigger and people began calling him “Alhaji”, thinking he was becoming wealthy.
As I once said, Ali went to the hospital and pleaded with the doctor to measure the extent of his prosperity, whereupon he was given two small pills. The next morning the entire colony of worms was decimated and Ali tearfully lost his Alhaji status in the Upper West Region where he undertook his national service.
Sometimes, going far away from home to serve the nation is like going to “hustle” in Lagos. For those forced to serve in the Upper Regions it is like slugging it out in Sokoto, and there, you can only make it if God dey your back.
You might be posted to a remote village where there is a tiny primary school and a JSS block that looks like it had just suffered from an earthquake measuring 7.5 on the Ritcher scale. You’ll think the building will collapse on you, but it won’t. You are supposed to go in there and serve the nation.
Immediately you land, you must get a place which is an accommodation whether you think it is or not. You’ve got to accept it, otherwise you will be transformed into a Son of Man with nowhere to lay your head (Matthew 8:20).
A landlord will receive you as a serviceman with open arms until you start eyeing his beautiful daughter. Some landlords don’t tolerate such non-sense. They expect you to behave like a castrated goat and be the good tenant you are supposed to be.
Anyhow, your landlord would ask you a few questions.
“Krakye, you’re from the South-eh! How’s the place like?”
“Fine. They all send their greetings”.
“Good! For how long will you be staying?”
“About a year.”
“Good. This is your room,” he’d point to a small door. “The only advice I’ll give you is that if you follow somebody’s wife, they’d stick an arrow into buttocks, Get the point? An arrow is not a small thing”
“I know Baba.”
“I’m glad you know this. So if your manhood worrying you, go and drink pito and cool it down. if you chase my daughter, worse things will happen to you. I wish you a happy stay.”
Events narrated by past servicemen are good pieces of advice to their successors. You’ll find your national service very interesting or not depending on how you conduct yourself. And you have to go by the adage that while in Rome, do as the Romans do. If you go to Cinkase don’t go behaving as if you’re from Larteh. Abandon your Larteh ways altogether.
First and foremost, you must get used to the idea that your new environment is quite different from what you used do know and that you must as much as possible adjust to the staple of the area and acclimatize to the weather.
You must also know before-hand that the first disaster you’re likely to encounter is known as diarrhea. For three days, your stomach will be cleared of southern rice and meat stew, to be filled with Zaafi and alefi soup. The first day, you may need Andrews Liver Salt, but subsequently, you’ll be swallowing the ‘tuo’ morsels like a hungry native.
Yeah you got to forget about oats and butter-bread for breakfast and eat their food, drink their pito but don’t stare at their wives while licking your lips. The fact is that matters of the heart cannot be joked with. A man might forgive you even if you slap him in public but if you go near his wife, then you’re really in for like the foolish dog who sees fire and still wants venture in. Some sins cannot be forgiven.
The most important thing to do also as a service personnel is not only to go and eat tuo zaafi and come back, but to impart knowledge to the local folks. Tell them about the need for family planning, and sex education, but please don’t demonstrate the practical use of the condom.
You must try to make an impact by teaching them about environmental cleanliness, personal hygiene and functional literacy.
All these you have to do not by becoming “too known” but by being witty and accepting their points of view and counteracting them wisely and getting the message across. But if you go and tell them alcohol is not good, they’d say you’re a bad person who doesn’t want them to enjoy life.
You may also preach the good news but if you speak in tongues, they may be tempted to think you’ve been possessed by the spirit of one of their gods. In the process, they’d say their religion is superior to yours and you can’t convince them again.
In fact, if you make good use of your time anywhere you’re posted be it a cottage in the East or a hamlet in the North, you’ll come back satisfied and fulfilled. That is the real essence of national service. The service period is not time for honeymoon. It’s time for hard work and helping society.
Coming back home after national service is another palaver. Some come back fat and jolly but for others, their own parents can’t recognise them twenty metres afar unless they use a binoculars. When Edward Alomele, my kid brother came back from Karni, Upper West, I sincerely mistook him for a Malian refugee begging for alms.
I realised that the guy was smiling to me but these refugees hardly smile. I became confused. I was about to give him 50 cedis when I realised that it was my own brother. I embraced him. He was back from war or better still he had literally deserted the army and was back home leaner than a hungry Somali.
But he was happy and fulfilled. He had served his nation admirably.
Yes, some come back wealthy others return as churchmice. Some come back alone, others with a woman and child behind them.
“Mama, this was the lady who helped me-o! If it had not been for her, I would have died of kwashior-kor. She fed me well on beans. Look how fresh I’m looking.”
“But who’s the child?”
“That’s my first born.”
Mama will then realise that his dear son didn’t eat beans alone. He ate something else too. At night!
This article was first published on Saturday, September 24, 1994
A haircut I had about a week ago didn’t go down well with many. Someone quite close to my heart saw it, examined it critically and felt dizzy.
“What’s this?” she proceeded to ask me.
“An international hairdo,” I replied.
She was disgusted, in fact disappointed. The problem with the haircut is that the style is neither Punk, Tokyo Joe nor Show Your Back. If anything, it is a combination of all—and I liked it, for a change.
It was when I bounded downtown that someone called me and enquired whether I was no longer a journalist. He said I looked like a well-fed Warrant Officer.
“Class One or Class Two?” I asked.
Another studied my head as if he was studying physical geography and pronounced that I looked like a boxer who can throw dangerous punches. Still, someone was of the opinion that the haircut didn’t quite fit me, but admitted that I looked like a prosperous merchant.
Commendation
I remember some three months ago, I had a haircut that made two girls fall in love with me. In spite of the fact that the barber was not a graduate, the cut was such that they couldn’t help admiring it. One of them actually ‘checked out’ the style and commended the barber.
The other was more bent on the ‘love matter’ but I was too busy to give her any attention. LOVE!
I was reminded of this when I viewed a premier showing of the latest Sikaman film titled THE POWER OF LOVE. The film kept me thinking. Some of us have long forgotten about what it is like to be head-over-heels in love. When we were students, we had such experiences because there was nothing doing anyway.
We were either learning how stylishly to smoke ‘jot’ or how romantically to fall in love. Anyhow, I was intrigued by this latest movie because of the way love unlimited was portrayed on screen. It took my memory back many years to relive those youthful days when we felt we’d really die if jilted by our lovers.
The storyline of THE POWER OF LOVE is really an exciting one. The combination of love, treachery and intrigue made me feast my eyes intently on the screen, unbelieving the extent the force of love can reach.
Ama and Afua are good friends. But when it comes to matters of the heart, they have different tastes; Ama is content with only her boyfriend (a student) and Afua samples the bigwigs around town. Afua, not satisfied with the shots in town, wants Ama’s boyfriend Joe in addition. She lies to Joe that Ama has often been picked by a man on four-wheels, whereupon Joe dismisses Ama and takes on Afua.
Ama doesn’t realise that it is her best friend Afua who is destroying her relationship with Joe until she catches her having sex with him. She collapses and goes out of her mind from the broken heart. But before then, she had been made pregnant by Joe.
Having escaped from a psychiatric hospital, she roams town murmuring Joe’s name. Heavily pregnant now, she espies Joe boarding a mini bus and runs towards him. Joe, seeing her approaching, quickly disembarks and takes off.
Ama pursues him furiously, and he runs to his home where he finds his bosom friend Frank making love to Afua. He immediately realises the treachery of Afua who instigated him to leave Ama.
He intends leaving the home in disgust and meets mad Ama at the door and embraces her despite her madness. Instantly, she regains her sanity.
Love indeed heals the wounds of the mind and it is the greatest positive force in the world. Incidentally, the greatest negative force is hatred.
Greatest force
Now coming to talk about love, I reiterate it is the greatest force imaginable. That is why a man will butcher his rival to death if he catches him climbing his wife without asking permission; and a woman will go mad if jilted.
It is also for this reason that a young boy who is scared stiff of cemeteries and under normal circumstances would not dare go near one, will this time walk boldly through a cemetery at midnight if that is the only way to his lover’s abode.
The Bible describes love for our neighbours as the surest way to heaven: Love thy neighbour as thyself.
Unfortunately, what Ghanaians are more interested and skilful in is loving the opposite sex. Romance under the cover of darkness is what we understand love to be all about. When it comes to loving our fellow human beings, we are found wanting.
People hate others just because they are of another tribe and do not speak the same native language. Too much grudge-bearing that does not augur well for national development.
War in Liberia, carnage in Rwanda are the results of the absence of love for one’s fellow being. If everybody could express a little bit of love for his fellow being irrespective of tribe, race, politics or religion, Sikaman—and indeed, the world—will be a more habitable place.
This article was first published on Saturday, October 29, 1994
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“Sir,” Ms. Odame said when David Asante answered the call, “my name is Victoria Odame. I’m a teacher at Research School in Koforidua. I would like to come and see you concerning a student called Sarah.”
“Okay, madam. I would be very glad to meet you. How can I make your trip easier?”
“I was going to join a bus to Accra.”
“Here’s what we will do. Take a taxi and ask them to bring you to Accra. I will speak to the driver, give him the directions, and pay him when you get here.”
The taxi stopped in front of the house. The gate opened, and the driver moved to the long driveway and stopped.
“What a beautiful house,” he said.
David and Adoma came out to meet them. Adoma paid the driver as David and Sarah stared at each other.
“Please come in and sit down,” Adoma invited. She served them water.
“You are welcome,” Adoma continued. “We have been waiting anxiously since you called this morning. So please, let’s hear you.”
Before she could open her mouth, Sarah rose, moved to David, hugged him, and sat on his lap. They both broke into tears. Adoma and Ms. Odame also broke into tears.
“Sorry, madam,” David said. “This whole episode has been a very difficult one. But let’s do the proper thing. Let’s hear you first, and I will also speak. I’m sure we need to answer some questions immediately.”
“Okay, sir. I have been taking an interest in Sarah because, although she’s brilliant academically, she seemed to be troubled. Following my discussions with her and some whispers I had been hearing, I went to Aboso Senior High School and spoke to your former colleague, Mr. Hanson. He told me that you were an exemplary teacher who was loved by all, and he also told me about the unfortunate events that caused you to leave for Germany. So I returned to Koforidua with the view to finding the appropriate means of helping to solve this problem.”
“Great. Ms. Odame, I have to thank you for finally helping us to solve this problem. Now, let me state the facts. This is what happened.
“Gladys and I met and got married whilst we were both teachers in the school. Some months into our marriage, she told me that she needed to spend some days with her parents, and I agreed.
“It turned out that she was actually spending time in a hotel with her ex-boyfriend, Simon. This happened again after Sarah was born. I got wind of this and told her that I was no longer interested in the marriage.
“I started preparing to travel to Germany. She pleaded for forgiveness, but I stood my ground. Then she told me that she would punish me for rejecting her.
“She came out later to say that Sarah was not my child, but Simon’s. She went and hid her somewhere, obviously expecting that I would fight to take my child. I was actually going to do that, but my parents advised me that it was almost impossible to win such a fight.
“They advised that, difficult as it sounded, I should leave the child with her because she would come back to me eventually. I have absolutely no problem taking care of you, Sarah. I am taking care of quite a number of kids who are not mine. So that is what happened. My hands were tied. I have been trying to find out how you are doing.
“I kept hearing that you were doing well at school. I also heard that Gladys and her husband were having problems, but I kept hoping that my daughter would at least be okay till it was possible for me to go for her.”
“Sarah, now you have met your dad. You will be free to—”
“I’m not going anywhere!” she declared as she held on to him.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Sarah,” Adoma said. “We have been looking forward to the day you come home. This is your home. Now, you have to meet your siblings.” She called Abrefi and Adaawa.
“Girls, we told you that you have a sister who would join us anytime. Now here she is.”
“Sarah?” Abrefi asked.
“Yes,” Adoma replied. The girls hugged her and took her away.
“Now,” David said, “I think it is time to call Madam Gladys.” He dialed the number.
“My name is David Asante. I’m here in my house with my daughter Sarah. I hear you have told her all sorts of crazy stories about me. I could make life very difficult for you, but I won’t.
“You are your own worst enemy. I don’t think you should be expecting her anytime soon. What do you say?”
Gladys stayed silent for over a minute, then cut the line.
“Food is ready,” Adoma announced. “Everybody, please come to the table.”
Sarah chatted excitedly with her siblings as Adoma and David spoke with Ms. Odame. She kept staring at her father.
“Now, Ms. Odame, after you have brought such joy into our home, should we allow you to go back to Koforidua today, or should we wait till we are ready to release you? I could call your husband and ask permission.
“And please don’t tell me you didn’t bring anything for an overnight stay. There are several supermarkets around here. We can fix that problem quickly.”
“I will beg you to release me. Now that I have been so warmly welcomed here, I already feel part of this home. Koforidua is not that far away, so I will visit often.”
“Well, let’s see what the kids have to say. Ladies, shall I release Ms. Odame to go back to Koforidua?”
“No!” they shouted, and all broke into laughter.
“Ms. Odame, I will have mercy on you. But we are going to do something to make it easy for you to visit us. My wife wants to show you something. Please follow her.”
Adoma led her to the driveway as the others followed. They stopped in front of the car.
“This is a Toyota Corolla 1600. It is very reliable and good on petrol consumption. We are giving this to you in appreciation of your help in getting our daughter back to us.
“And here in this envelope is a little contribution to help you with maintenance. And here in this other envelope is a gift to help with your children’s school fees.”
As she stood, stunned, and stared from the car to the envelopes, David put his hand around his family.
“Let’s leave her to take a look at her car. Ms. Odame, one of my drivers will drive you to Koforidua and leave your car with you. We are waiting inside.”
By Ekow de Heer
