What Happens in Ghana Stays in Ghana...

It seems what happens in Ghana stays in Ghana. At least when it comes to controversial news. The global media along with hundreds of personal blogs have been extolling the virtues of Ghana and it’s democratic process. A lot has been said about how Ghana has triumphed – not only for democracy as an institution but for it’s people as a whole.

This being said, I find it quite disturbing that the international media has not bothered to poke it’s nose back into the Ghana ‘scene’ to document the current uproar over what has been called ‘an outrage’ locally – I’m referring to the exit package of ex-President Kufuor.

Just as the dust settled after the run off elections here in early January, a package for Mr. Kufuor was pushed through hastily by parliament and without any regard for the frivolity and absurdity of it all.



I found a very interesting article written locally, comparing the retirement packages of the American president and our very own Kufuor. I just had to borrow the details here:

United States (Per Capita Income: $46,000): President Bush

* US$191,000 for his pension;
* Life time secret service protection for president & spouse
* Official travel expenses with 2 members of staff
* 0 cars
* 0 houses
* No end-of-service gratuity
* Private funds for presidential library (tax exempt)
* Presidential widows receive a lifetime pension of $20,000 per year.

source: http://www.senate.gov/reference/resources/pdf/98-249.pdf

Ghana(Per Capita Income: $1,400): President Kufuor

* Lump-sum (thought to be worth $400,000)
* SIX fully maintained comprehensively insured, fuelled and chauffeured-driven cars to be replaced every four years. The fleet comprise of three salon cars, two cross country cars and one all-purpose vehicle.
* TWO Fully furnished residences that befit a former president at place of his choice
* 60 day overseas travel with 3 staff members each year
* 18 months consolidated salary
* Million-dollar seed money for the setting up a foundation,
* Security - 24 hours security services
* Budget for entertaining each year

It is too typical to be an outrage. Too much of this gluttony of the powerful in Africa is the status quo. Where will it stop? When will it end? Who cares enough to make the changes Africa needs?

I have noticed a plethora of new missionaries and their blogs in Ghana lately. This means there are more and more people focused on the country.

Christianity is fully entrenched here. Surely there are barely any more 'souls to win over', so what is the interest in Ghana? The truth is that it is believed to be a safe place for foreigners, yet a place you can still ‘make a difference’. A country where aid is still poured in for project after project.

Yet at the top sit the people like Kufuor, who flew around the world in his private jet to find donations, and who now at the end of his tenure, leaves with a whopping package that is tantamount to outright theft from the people of Ghana.

I have read that a leader is the reflection of his people – especially in democratic societies. Where then does that leave Ghana in this new democratic era? A shining example for Africa or a new twist on corruption, where the rich get richer and the poor simply stand by...

Old Couple at Heathrow

Here they hover,

Two halves of a common whole

Strangers in their familiarity

Fussing and puttering; shaking

Settling at the table for tea

Together without words to string together

The regretful sagging bond that holds them

Year upon year in the face of inevitability

In the grizzly demise of self and spirit

Crumbs sit dryly on trembling lips

Mingle with the spots of age and the dissolution of vanity

Knobbled fingers grope and balance cups and napkins

Bruised veins betraying fragile surface

Muted mutterings, the fragility within…

But tender their need and knees

Barely touching under the table

Elaborate fans of printed news separating them

The explosion of paper’s bends and crackles

The only sound

But the communication is deeper
Disturbing
Defined.

Ageless vision

Sometimes you meet a person who puts your life in perspective. Someone who challenges your beliefs with their smile and handshake and general existence.
There are times in life when you realize that you have been limited – boxed in by your experiences – to the point that you have not imagined beyond the invented boundaries.

Last weekend we left the chaotic reality of Africa – left the stench and pulsating rhythms - for the peaceful crisp cool of the Avon river. We followed the smooth highways and combed the fresh green paths, far outside the confines of grey grimy London, to the South coast of England.

We arrived at my cousin’s place – a distant relative tied to me in loose yet inexplicably binding ways. The whole plan was orchestrated by e-mails and reassurances from family members that this would be a wonderful reunion. And it was.
He greeted us at the gates of the old mansion – his smile resounding, the smell of nearby pastures permeable. I instantly felt welcome. Within minutes we were seated around the table on the back porch, overlooking the duck pond, in the late afternoon sun, sipping fresh raspberry daiquiris and champagne, discussing our extended family’s convoluted history.

This cousin of mine has made a point of asking and gathering information and is now quite a source of information about our shared grand-relatives’ lives. For some reason we all want to know as much as possible about where we came from, what has contributed to make us who we are – sinew for sinew, trait for trait. I guess I am no different. We drank up all the information he could share and soaked up the sun, the spirit, the delicious pink of his cashmere sweater and the soft, lulling voices of the gang seated around us.

This cousin of mine has left quite an impression on me. He is an inspiration. A life that keeps living, hopeful, alive, exciting. The first thing he told us was his age. We spent the next two days disbelieving this statement in every way.
My cousin is 69yrs old. He has recently married and is the typically giddy, goofy newlywed with the grin of a 21yr old. His dress sense is the sophisticated cool of a 40yr old who has learned enough but still takes chances to look young and hip. His smile has the genuine surety of a 12yr old boy. His zest for climbing and biking and exploring his world are the defiant ready for the universe edge of a 19yr old.

My cousin and his new bride defy all the notions I’ve blindly accepted about age and limits and life’s predetermined steps. By 69 memories are life. Daily routines involve soft cereal and teeth floating in murky water. Power over bodily functions is not guaranteed and neither is recognizing ones’ self in a mirror. Dressing involves polyester and elastene. There are special stores that cater for this sector – churning out man made monstrosities that make the statement – I am old and hunched and dull pastels keep me comfortable. There are no vacations – barring the adventurous who make it to Florida annually. Decisions are influenced by the proximity to a health facility and a public restroom.

This cousin of mine met his bride online. They travel globally –enjoying good wine and gorgeous sunsets, after completing challenging treks and trails. They climb mountains and plan for the future. They appreciate beauty and indulgence and they watch TV with limbs intertwined. They wake up and dress for the day – jumping up to the possibilities that lie ahead.



My cousin is maroon and fire in the face of oatmeal grey. He is a deep magenta with olive undertones. He answers life’s rules with a vitality unknown to me before now.

And I thank him from the heart for proving what I forgot I knew – that rules are limited and small minded. That life is immense and multicoloured. That every day and week and month and year we have are blank canvases we fill in whichever way we choose. Life continues as long as you want it to. If you keep loving and tasting and smelling and stepping forward into it – the mist yields a new experience every single day.

Maybe it was the cool sea air or the pungent gardens but I woke up last weekend a little more. I appreciate the colours around me. The soft hand of my lover, the bright deep eyes of my son.

I see just a bit more clearly what life holds in store.
Life is about love and self confidence and good friends. And that does not change at any age.