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The Prophet part 1
Remove your shoes! The fetish priest barked as the two men entered the shrine. They complied.
You are welcome to the presence of Nana Kofi Broni, the mighty one who scatters his enemies and turns them into dust, the powerful one who walks with six legs and reaches his destination way ahead of everyone. What can I do for you, my children?
Er, Okomfo, this is my friend Papa Antobam. He has a problem, and I assured him that you can….. ‘But the fetish priest cut him short.
If it is he who has the problem, then let him speak for himself.
Antobam cleared his throat. Er, Okomfo, I will not make a long speech. I want to start a church, and I want to be able to do wonders, so that more people will join my church. Of course, the bottom line is money! I want the kind of spiritual power that will make people pay money for my services, without complaining. That is why I have come. Yaw Ansah tells me you can help me.
The fetish priest stared at Antobam for what seemed like ages. Finally, he spoke.
‘You want asore aduro?’
‘Precisely’, Okomfo, Antobam replied.
`Okay. Nana will do it for you. It is not hard for him at all. But there are a few requirements that you have to meet. I need to perform some rites which will enable Nana to bring the wealth you are asking for, from the spiritual world so that you can lay your hands on it, whenever you need it`.
`That is what I am looking for, Okomfo`.
‘Well then. You are clearly focused on what you want, and how you want to achieve it. Nana Broni is ever willing to help you. There are two sets of rituals to be performed. One of them can be done today, and the other can be done whenever you are able to put together the necessary items.
‘Nana’, Antobam said, ‘I came prepared, so if you don’t mind, please convert the items into cash. I think I can find enough money to pay. I would very much like to perform all the necessary rites here, today’.
‘Okay, an amount of two thousand cedis will settle it all. If you pay that, we will go ahead and perform the rituals shortly’.
Antobam rose, drew out an envelope from his trouser pocket and counted out some notes.
‘Here you are, Nana. Two thousand. I’m ready’.
‘Okay’, the fetish priest said as he picked up the money. He placed it gently in a big calabash, whispering some unintelligible words as he did so. Then he went outside, prepared a fire and put a huge pot on it. Within some fifteen minutes the water was boiling. He poured several concoctions in it, reciting some incantations as he did so.
‘Now’, he declared, ‘we are ready! Come forward. Papa went close to the big pot.
‘Step on that stone and get into the pot’. Papa Antobam hesitated, wondering whether it was wise to step into a pot of boiling water with his eyes wide open.
‘I say, get inside the pot!’ the man shouted. ‘Gingerly, Antobam stepped inside, but realised to his great surprise that instead of being very hot, the water felt cool. The fetish priest grabbed his head with his two hands and pushed him down for about a minute. Although he had closed his eyes and was inside for only a minute, he ‘saw’ quite a number of big, strange creatures in the water. They all came to him, pushing large crates containing money. The fetish priest pulled his head out just when he started gasping for air.
‘Did you see money? Lots of money’? The fetish priest asked.
‘Yes! I saw some big animals, and they brought big crates of money to me.’
‘Congratulations!’ Now go and start your church, and do your stuff. But remember, you must once a year to give thanks to the great Nana Kofi Broni for giving you the power to make money. But wait, you need to take this’. He brought out a gallon container, poured some of the contents of the huge pot into it, and gave it to him.
‘A few hours before your first service, pour this at the venue. From then, Nana Kofi Broni’s messengers will follow you wherever you go. You will see wonders.’
‘Thank you’, Antobam replied. ‘I will certainly be back.’ They shook hands, and the two friends left the shrine.
‘I told you I knew the man who could help you,’ Yaw Ansah said as they walked to the lorry station to join a vehicle for the twenty minute journey back to Koforidua.
‘I believe you now, Yaw, and I am really grateful. I assure you that I will not forget you when money starts rolling in’.
‘I will hold you to that promise. But I’m sure you will ‘do something’ for now, won’t you?’
‘Well’, Antobam said, let’s see what I can do now. He brought out the white envelope and took out a fifty cedi note. ‘You can have this for now, Yaw. As you know already, life has been very tough. In order to prepare for this trip I sold my TV and I gave out my rented room in Koforidua. I made three thousand cedis, from which I have already given out two thousand at the shrine. I have already spent two hundred cedis on our transport and food. Here is GH¢50 for you. I have to be careful with money until I start getting some money from the church business. I am going to collect my things from Koforidua and move into the family house at Kukurantumi until things start looking up. I will give out GH¢100 to my mother, and try to survive on what is left’.
‘I’m sure you will start making money the moment you start making yourself known. You must start immediately’.
‘I will do exactly that. I will find a place to start at Tafo this week, then I will open branches all over the Eastern Region, and move to Accra and Kumasi. In a few months I will be on all the big radio and TV stations’.
‘That’s the spirit, my brother. Others have made it, so why can’t you?’
‘You have a good point’. Very soon I will be among the big preachers in Ghana’.
A few days later, Antobam rented a loud hailer for GH¢10 and went round the lorry station and the town centre. ‘Do you need a quick, long-term solution to your marriage, financial and health problems? Do you want to travel abroad and get a good paying job? The day of your solution is here! Come to the open space behind the Zion school park, and see wonders. Solutions! Solutions! Solutions! 6’oclock sharp, every morning. We are waiting for you! Miracles! Miracles! Come and take yours!
The following morning, Antobam got to the venue just after four. He had selected that venue because apart from being out of town, there were no churches to compete with him. He erected a small platform to serve as pulpit, and sprinkled the water from the shrine all over the place, as the fetish priest had directed. Soon after that, he heard shrill sounds like voices. He looked around him and saw nothing, but the voices were certainly there. He felt some initial fear, but remembered that having paid for the services of Nana Kofi Broni’s angels, any spirits that had come there would work on his behalf. The voices, he told himself, confirmed that he was on his way to becoming a very rich, powerful man.
By six o’clock quite a number of people, mostly women, had gathered there.
‘My brothers and sisters’ you are all welcome. I assure you that today, you will see the end of your problems. I do not talk too much. I do as I say. Let’s allow some fifteen minutes for other brothers and sisters to arrive, then the service will begin. For now, let us start singing some praises to God. Can anyone lead us in some praises? A young woman did, and the service got underway. The numbers increased as the singing went on.
Antobam raised his hand for the singing to stop, and addressed the gathering.
‘My brothers and sisters, my name is Prophet Papa Antobam. I have come as your servant to bring you solutions to your problems. I have been praying for a long time, asking God when He would release me to go and serve my people. Finally, your prayers have been answered. I have brought quick, lasting solutions to any problem you will face. The Almighty God has heard your cry, and today, I assure you that you will see real solutions. One thing I ask of you, is that when you see the solutions, do not forget to come and give thanks for what God has done for you.
If it is he who has the problem, then let him speak for himself
By Ekow de Heer
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.
