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The stomach, ministers and parliamentarians

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Sikaman Palava

My bosom friend Kofi Kokota­ko had the ‘impudence’ of a dead cock- roach. It was at a food-eating competition where he surprised the devil himself. Yes, Mr James Lucifer was awed because Kofi ate like a demon and won the com­petition hands down.

He started with six hefty balls of kenkey and palmnut soup. Soon after, he followed it with eba and okro soup which he swallowed like a hungry Yoruba carpenter.

The quantity could have satisfied three famishing construction labour­ers.

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He relaxed a bit and requested for ten pieces of cooked cocoyam with kontomire stew when all the other competitors had long retired. Like a savage, he crushed the large pieces between his jaws and ev­ery- body applauded. Presently he announced that he was not half-sat­isfied.

He ordered one big loaf of but­ter-bread and four large cups of a popular beverage and finished it all in record time, as spectators gaped at the spectacle. Everybody began wondering whether Kokotako was some kind of food-god.

He now relaxed completely and of course, everyone thought he was done with. Then he surprised all when he took hold of a tuber of yam and started peeling it, saying that it was for dessert. Soon the yam was cooked and it all disappeared down his long throat with garden egg stew.

Not long thereafter, a small boy was eating kokonte and groundnut soup nearby and Kokotako collect­ed it from him amidst laughter: He devoured it gleefully while the boy cried for the loss of his food.

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Kofi Kokotako won the competi­tion and was honoured with a trophy and ¢300 in those days when the cedi was powerful. But it was not too long after the presentation ceremony when he confided in me that he was feeling dizzy. I suggested to him that he should order mashed kenkey to clear the dizziness and he retorted that I was a fool.

“Do you want to kill me?” he asked. “This is a killer advice. Mashed kenkey on top of all these?”

It was then that I realised that my good friend was not a food-god, after all. Before I was aware Kokotako had crashed to the floor. Collapsed. There was an uproar! The champion was dying! Someone said his hernia had come, and another said that the food was boozing him like akpetesh­ie.

Anyhow, he was carried to the hospital and the doctor gave him an emetic which made him throw-up. The doctor’s report stated that it was unbelievable a human being of the stature of Master Kokotako could consume such quantity.

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He added that the dangerous boy probably vomited more than he ate, a miracle of a rare kind.

When he recuperated, the doctor interviewed him. Asked why he ate so much, he replied that he wanted to win the contest hands down and stomach out.

“Under normal circumstances, how many balls of kenkey can you eat at one sitting?”

“Only about six balls at a sitting.”

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“Is it a family disease or is it pe­culiar to you only?”

“Sir, it is not a family disease. It is a gift from God.”

Yeah, Kofi Kokotako was and is a trencherman, with an unusual capacity for food. That is why when he wakes up from bed and has not taken his almighty break- fast he would frown and not respond to any greeting.

When he was in Form Three, his father called him at dawn and advised him. “My son,” he said, “I’ve realised that you’ve got talent in dealing with food. In fact, you are more than a bush-pig. So I’ll advise you to take your Agricultural Science studies very, very seriously. Don’t joke with it at all because it is the key to your future happiness, since you have a problem with your stom­ach.

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“I want to be a cook instead,” Kokotako suggested.

“If you don’t produce food, how can you cook it?”

If Kokotako had been a parlia­mentarian in the Fourth Republic, he would have been dozing all through­out the daily sessions after having breakfast weighing several kilos. And I hope that none of our parliamen­tarians is following in the footsteps of my friend as far as matters of the stomach are concerned.

Parliament is a place of serious legislative business and there is no room for dozers. At the moment, parliamentarians are vetting minis­terial nominees who, when approved of, will become ministers plenipoten­tiary of the state.

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And I guess they have started do­ing a good job, and not dozing. Now, to vet somebody means that you should be able to know him inside out.

During the revolution, secretaries of state were not vetted because where was the parliament to vet them? They were simply appointed and didn’t even undergo medical exam before they took post.

But this time, it is becoming quite different and I urge, the Committee to employ the use of spirito-elec­tronic X’rays which can bring out past moral activities of the nomi­nees.

We want our ministers to be men of proven integrity and high moral standing. Some of them have one wife but three concubines. As for the girlfriends, no way; they don’t even know the names of some of them. They just come and go.

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A minister of such reputation will obviously not be putting up his best because he would be pre- occupied with grabbing money to satisfy his numerous women.

Nominees should also be tested for alcoholism because any minister who imbibes more than the alcoholic equivalent of four bottles of beer a day will not be a responsible person as far as diligence and hardwork are concerned.

Their hands should also be exam­ined to see if they’ve been tainted with stealing state money or misap­plying it. They should also be exam­ined for their food habits. A minister whose capacity is comparable to that of Kofi Kokotako and eats heavy kokonte at six o’clock in the morning is certain to doze all day long and therefore cannot handle ministerial affairs.

What about parliamentarians? They have already been vetted by their people, and what is now at hand borders on their salary. And I think they are aware that their job is sacrificial and not of luxury.

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They must, however, be paid well so that they can afford coffee and toasted bread at breakfast to make them smart at the assembly. If not, a majority of them will continue eating heated left-over banku and when the Speaker of Parliament asks one why he has been dozing regularly, he’d reply:

“Mr Speaker, I ate yesterday’s banku early this morning and I guess the corn dough fermented a bit too much. Please, pay us quickly and then we can avoid fermentation and take oats, milk and jam before com­ing to the assembly.”

Yes the salary of parliamentari­ans. Anything between ¢180,000 and ¢250,000 will do for them. If they are fighting for more than that, then it means that they have no feeling for the country.

They must know that because of the rise in the salaries of civil ser­vants, the country is broke. Also, some workers are earning ¢20,000 a month and so ¢250,000 for a parlia­mentarian who is doing sacrificial work should suffice.

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I wish the parliamentarians a hap­py term and urge them to deliberate on issues very objectively and me to good conclusions to avoid the legis­lature being labelled as a one-party parliament.

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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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