About Me
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Embassy Broni and the House Negro
On a warm sunny day in Accra, Kojo Boy shares the company of an American embassy official half his age and not nearly as educated. The official had opened what actually was the cheapest champagne on the market, and the two men interrupted their engaging conversation every now and again with sips from the champagne glass. Suddenly, Kojo Boy’s mobile phone rings.
“Excuse me Sir.” Kojo apologizes to his American friend as he picks up his phone and walks a few meters away to stand on the balcony
“Hello! Hello! Akua! What is the problem?” It was his wife.
“Kojo where are you? You haven’t called all afternoon. I don’t know whether to start the fufu or not,” said Akua.
‘Oh I told you I would be going to the American Embassy. I am with Embassy Broni. I am drinking Champaaaaagne!”
“Champagne! Is there a party going on there?” Akua asked
“Oh no! Your husband is mixing with the “rich and powerful” Akua. Embassy Broni calls me and serves me Champagne. Who in your family has ever had that honour? Just a minute darling…..”
“I won’t be a minute Sir.” he shouts across the room to the rather impatient Whiteman sitting in the lounge.
“Akua I need to go. The guy is getting a bit impatient.”
“What are you talking about that is so important?” Akua asked
“We are discussing eh…..the Kukrudu boss,” said Kojo Boy
“What? Are you talking about your own friend?” Akua asked
“Oh I need to go Akua……….”
“What has Kukrudu…….?
“Onom wee! He smokes marijuana” Kojo Boy said
“What?” Akua asked
“I need to go darling. See you later!”
Kojo Boy hung up and walked briskly back to Embassy Broni, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.
“I must apologize, Sir. That was my wife,” said Kojo Boy
“You don’t have to call me Sir!” said Embassy Broni
“Don’t take it personally,” said Kojo Boy “It’s the way I was brought up”
“Well suit yourself then,” Embassy Broni said
“Yes Sir. Can I have some more champagne?” Asked Kojo Boy
“No you can’t” Embassy broni said
“Yes Sir”
“But you may”
“Oh thank you. This is good stuff you know,” said Kojo Boy
“Typical!” Embassy Broni said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yes, Typical American Champagne!”
“Whatever!” said Embassy Broni
“Sure? Can I have some of the biscuits then Sir?” Kojo Boy asked unashamedly
“I think I will save the biscuits for my boy,” Embassy Broni said
“Ok ok you see, my dad used to say,that alcohol loosens the tongue”
“A chip off the old block then”
“Ha ha ha, a chip off the old block. I like that expression,” said Kojo Boy
“As you were saying before we were rudely interrupted…….” Embassy Broni could no longer disguise his impatience.
“Aha aha! Wee! He smokes wee. He has it for breakfast. That much I am sure. I don’t know about lunch and supper………..”
“I must thank you sincerely for honoring my invitation,” said Embassy Broni
“The honour is mine Sir. I am indeed humbled by your invitation. Please don’t forget the visa for my niece…..”
“As I said earlier, Kojo, I don’t work in the Visa Department. I would advise you to put in an official application”
“But you know, you are still involved……”
Embassy Broni slammed the door in his face
“Scumbag!!!” Embassy Broni muttered under his breath
Kojo Boy’s wife was waiting when he got home, furious that he had come in late
“You are drunk” she said
“No, only a little Typical American Champagne,” Kojo Boy said
“So you were drinking champagne and “slagging off” your countrymen?” the wife asked
“Just defending the truth darling, I am a man of principles,” said Kojo
“Good to hear. Do your principles include assassinating the character of others?”
“Look, I’m not going to talk about this any more. The man smokes wee and I said it.”
“Are you proud of yourself Kojo? Are you the kind of man who sees the need to lick the bottom of a white man and “slag” off his countrymen for a glass of champagne? There is a name for the likes of you. You are the kind of guy Malcolm X called the House Negro.
“You see, historically, the House Negro was the slave who lived in the Master’s house, either in the basement or in the attic, as opposed to the Field Negro who lived in huts on the farm. He was the guy the Slave master used to keep the Field Negros in check. He dressed really good and ate pretty well – what the master left. He loved the master more than the master loved himself. If the master’s house caught fire, he would risk every bone to put out the fire for the master. If the master got sick, he said “what boss, WE sick?”
He would gladly be killed to save the master. He identified himself more with the master than the master identified with himself. If you went to the House Negro and said “let’s escape, let’s run away,” he would say “are you crazy? Where can I get better food than here? Master is a good man. He takes care of me pretty good.”
“Slavery is long gone but there are still House Negros in our society. The modern House Negro will do anything to be associated with the “master”. They will pay three times the value of a house just to be able to live near him and brag about how “I am the only Blackman in the neighborhood. My kids attend a good school. They are the only black people in the school” They even complain when other black people move in about how “things are not what they used to be.
“The modern House Negro sees it an honour to be associated with the master. He is glad to be summoned to the master’s presence or be invited to tea. He wears that as a badge of honour. He will do anything to please the master, including betraying several years of friendship with his own kin.
“That’s what you are Kojo– a House Negro, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Law of the Jungle - Macho Men and Foot Soldiers
Law of the Jungle – Macho men and Foot Soldiers
If today, in our dear country, macho men are parading our streett s and flouting our laws with impunity, it is because of a failure of leadership. Of course I do not expect our president to comment. He is busy - praying in the castle for divine intervention. Ebeye yie! God will provide.
If today, young men are vandalizing our towns and cities, expecting the government to come round to distribute bags of cash, merely because they happen to be card-bearing members of the ruling party, it is because they can see, that people they campaigned for to get into power have become millionaires overnight. Our democracy will never grow, until the entire mentality, that politics is a money-making venture has been completely eradicated from our consciousness.
If today, our policemen stare in despair with no teeth to bite, no equipment to deploy, no motivation to fall back on as rogues go on the rampage, it is because, our ruling party is inherently thuggish and so rogues determine the terms of our hallowed existence. Our society will never grow, until we have a well-equipped independent police force capable of maintaining law and order in an environment where no one, least of all macho men and party foot soldiers, is above the law.
If today, in Ghana, a few thugs can forcibly prevent an individual from occupying premises that they have rightfully acquired to engage in a public meeting and all the police can do is “negotiate” with these rogues, then the law of the jungle reigns, where a man is elevated to a status of an untouchable merely on account of a few padded muscles acquired through sweaty hours of idling in gyms while the rest of us go to work.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
If today, in our dear country, macho men are parading our streett s and flouting our laws with impunity, it is because of a failure of leadership. Of course I do not expect our president to comment. He is busy - praying in the castle for divine intervention. Ebeye yie! God will provide.
If today, young men are vandalizing our towns and cities, expecting the government to come round to distribute bags of cash, merely because they happen to be card-bearing members of the ruling party, it is because they can see, that people they campaigned for to get into power have become millionaires overnight. Our democracy will never grow, until the entire mentality, that politics is a money-making venture has been completely eradicated from our consciousness.
If today, our policemen stare in despair with no teeth to bite, no equipment to deploy, no motivation to fall back on as rogues go on the rampage, it is because, our ruling party is inherently thuggish and so rogues determine the terms of our hallowed existence. Our society will never grow, until we have a well-equipped independent police force capable of maintaining law and order in an environment where no one, least of all macho men and party foot soldiers, is above the law.
If today, in Ghana, a few thugs can forcibly prevent an individual from occupying premises that they have rightfully acquired to engage in a public meeting and all the police can do is “negotiate” with these rogues, then the law of the jungle reigns, where a man is elevated to a status of an untouchable merely on account of a few padded muscles acquired through sweaty hours of idling in gyms while the rest of us go to work.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Akuffo-Addo and Frimpong Boateng - Wikileaks, Dismissals and Matters Arising
Akuffo Addo and Frimpong Boateng – Wikileaks, Dismissals and Matters Arising
I have a new-found respect for Nana Akuffo-Addo. This is a guy who, if his detractors are to be believed, was thrown out of Oxford University, then proceeded to Legon but only managed a third class degree in Economics and got admitted to the bar only because of his father’s influence. Has he not done well for himself? For, well-connected or not, one has to go out there and perform and Akuffo-Addo has certainly done that. Not only is he a respected lawyer, he has risen to become the leader of the opposition. One does not become a leader of the opposition merely on account of one’s connections. One has to convince intelligent Ghanaians to vote for one and Akuffo Addo has certainly done that.
Not every Ghanaian is a Frimpong-Boateng. Akuffo-Addo should be an inspiration for the forgotten majority of Ghanaians, battling to succeed against a background of failure in school and poor grades, or having to study as mature students while caring for kids and suddenly realizing, that they need a whole month to read a book they could read in two days in their youth. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Do not lose hope. The race is not only for the swift.
I would not condone the smoking of marijuana under any circumstances though there is evidence to prove that it helps reduce the symptoms of certain incurable diseases like multiple sclerosis. While there has been no concrete evidence of a link between marijuana and psychosis, and indeed marijuana is considered a “soft drug” in many countries, the social stigma associated with it, especially in our part of the world, is enough to prevent anyone achieving their maximum potential. I do not know how deeply Nana used to inhale (apologies to Bill Clinton), but he sure is in good company. Another interesting observation from the Wikileaks is the fact that, many observers believe Nana Akuffo Addo is one of the most incorruptible in the NPP hierarchy. It was refreshing to know that he has chosen to go about his duties quietly while others are trumpeting their incorruptibility from the top of Mount Zion, while evidence of corruption surrounds them.
Ghanaians owe a dept of gratitude to Prof Frimpong- Boateng, the great communicator and manager of human capital, a man with sound academic credentials who has contributed immensely to the world body of knowledge. A great leader and administrator who commands personal integrity and has sound moral and ethical standards, but who nevertheless, is as fallible as any Kojo Manu down the road. I have not met a single Ghanaian who believes that his decision to parade the NPP colours and compete for the presidential slot while still remaining an apparently impartial clinician was well-advised. But there you go.
We are grateful to this great son of Ghana for helping to establish the Cardiothoracic centre at the tender age of 39, though in my humble opinion, establishing an institution to perform laparoscopic cardiac surgery on a few when millions of our children die from malaria and kwashiorkor is akin to buying a Concorde when you can barely afford tro-tro. But then again, if I was the father of a child with a congenital heart disease I would probably not mind, that the money being used to operate on my child could save the lives of a thousand children.
Be that as it may, I believe, and so do many Ghanaians, that the least we could do as a nation, would be to name the Cardiothoracic Centre after the eminent professor to serve as an inspiration to our children yet unborn. For he has managed to achieve what many once thought was impossible. The Korle –Bu Cardiothoracic Centre, however, belongs to Ghana. It is not the personal property of Prof. Frimpong-Boateng. The last thing I was expecting therefore, was for the professor to mention how many millions of cedis of his personal money went into establishing this institution.
Not only was this ill-advised, it is the kind of attitude that has got to be condemned in the strongest possible terms, for such are the grounds laid for corruption in high places. It is like a football chairman who pockets money from the sale of a player abroad because he has invested personal money in the team. I dare not impugn the integrity of such a noble man, but if he was that eager to get the project started, he could have come to an agreement with the government to provide the money as a loan to be repaid at a later date. He did not do that and that money, unfortunately, is gone. Sorry about that!
What we need in Ghana are strong institutions and not multi-talented brainy individuals. Prof. Frimpong Boateng has had TWENTY YEARS to build an institution that would survive in his absence. If he is telling us today, that the institution is likely to collapse without him, then something is wrong. I pray to God that Prof lives beyond ninety years to realize, that over thirty years after his exit, the Cardiothoracic Centre would have moved from strength to strength.
No one person is irreplaceable. In fact, if you would want to know how irreplaceable you are, fetch a bucket of water, dip your fist in and then out. The hole you make in the water is how irreplaceable you are. Give us a break!
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.Papaappiah.blogspot.com
I have a new-found respect for Nana Akuffo-Addo. This is a guy who, if his detractors are to be believed, was thrown out of Oxford University, then proceeded to Legon but only managed a third class degree in Economics and got admitted to the bar only because of his father’s influence. Has he not done well for himself? For, well-connected or not, one has to go out there and perform and Akuffo-Addo has certainly done that. Not only is he a respected lawyer, he has risen to become the leader of the opposition. One does not become a leader of the opposition merely on account of one’s connections. One has to convince intelligent Ghanaians to vote for one and Akuffo Addo has certainly done that.
Not every Ghanaian is a Frimpong-Boateng. Akuffo-Addo should be an inspiration for the forgotten majority of Ghanaians, battling to succeed against a background of failure in school and poor grades, or having to study as mature students while caring for kids and suddenly realizing, that they need a whole month to read a book they could read in two days in their youth. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Do not lose hope. The race is not only for the swift.
I would not condone the smoking of marijuana under any circumstances though there is evidence to prove that it helps reduce the symptoms of certain incurable diseases like multiple sclerosis. While there has been no concrete evidence of a link between marijuana and psychosis, and indeed marijuana is considered a “soft drug” in many countries, the social stigma associated with it, especially in our part of the world, is enough to prevent anyone achieving their maximum potential. I do not know how deeply Nana used to inhale (apologies to Bill Clinton), but he sure is in good company. Another interesting observation from the Wikileaks is the fact that, many observers believe Nana Akuffo Addo is one of the most incorruptible in the NPP hierarchy. It was refreshing to know that he has chosen to go about his duties quietly while others are trumpeting their incorruptibility from the top of Mount Zion, while evidence of corruption surrounds them.
Ghanaians owe a dept of gratitude to Prof Frimpong- Boateng, the great communicator and manager of human capital, a man with sound academic credentials who has contributed immensely to the world body of knowledge. A great leader and administrator who commands personal integrity and has sound moral and ethical standards, but who nevertheless, is as fallible as any Kojo Manu down the road. I have not met a single Ghanaian who believes that his decision to parade the NPP colours and compete for the presidential slot while still remaining an apparently impartial clinician was well-advised. But there you go.
We are grateful to this great son of Ghana for helping to establish the Cardiothoracic centre at the tender age of 39, though in my humble opinion, establishing an institution to perform laparoscopic cardiac surgery on a few when millions of our children die from malaria and kwashiorkor is akin to buying a Concorde when you can barely afford tro-tro. But then again, if I was the father of a child with a congenital heart disease I would probably not mind, that the money being used to operate on my child could save the lives of a thousand children.
Be that as it may, I believe, and so do many Ghanaians, that the least we could do as a nation, would be to name the Cardiothoracic Centre after the eminent professor to serve as an inspiration to our children yet unborn. For he has managed to achieve what many once thought was impossible. The Korle –Bu Cardiothoracic Centre, however, belongs to Ghana. It is not the personal property of Prof. Frimpong-Boateng. The last thing I was expecting therefore, was for the professor to mention how many millions of cedis of his personal money went into establishing this institution.
Not only was this ill-advised, it is the kind of attitude that has got to be condemned in the strongest possible terms, for such are the grounds laid for corruption in high places. It is like a football chairman who pockets money from the sale of a player abroad because he has invested personal money in the team. I dare not impugn the integrity of such a noble man, but if he was that eager to get the project started, he could have come to an agreement with the government to provide the money as a loan to be repaid at a later date. He did not do that and that money, unfortunately, is gone. Sorry about that!
What we need in Ghana are strong institutions and not multi-talented brainy individuals. Prof. Frimpong Boateng has had TWENTY YEARS to build an institution that would survive in his absence. If he is telling us today, that the institution is likely to collapse without him, then something is wrong. I pray to God that Prof lives beyond ninety years to realize, that over thirty years after his exit, the Cardiothoracic Centre would have moved from strength to strength.
No one person is irreplaceable. In fact, if you would want to know how irreplaceable you are, fetch a bucket of water, dip your fist in and then out. The hole you make in the water is how irreplaceable you are. Give us a break!
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.Papaappiah.blogspot.com
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Team B and the Latter Day Moses
President Atta Mills has neither the gift of the gab nor the charisma to lead a people, and neither did Moses. The difference, however, is that Moses was not picked by a JJ Rawlings in a Swedru Declaration. The bible says Moses was handpicked by God. And to make up for his obvious deficiencies, God equipped him with the power to perform miracles, most notably, parting the red sea to let his people go. Atta Mills insists God is the president of Ghana and yet the only hint of a miracle from him is the imminent purchase of a military jet that could be used to pursue armed robbers.
It is difficult to impugn the ability of a man of such intellectual and academic excellence. Obviously though, intellectual capacity does not necessarily equate to an ability to lift a people and lead a nation. Gordon Brown had been a well-respected chancellor of the exchequer in Britain and generally considered as the intellectual power behind the modest economic successes of the Tony Blair era till he staged what many people have described as a “palace coup” to get rid of Blair and take over the reigns of power without having had to face a general election. His subsequent fumbling performance as a prime minister and disastrous humiliation in the next election has driven him prematurely into oblivion – a forgotten, broken man.
On the other side of the coin is Al Gore, who was vice president to the ever popular Bill Clinton and yet refused point blank to avail himself of the extraordinary campaigning skills of his then morally tainted boss, preferring instead to be his own man and to fight his own battle. He lost the election but not his pride, nor the respect and admiration of many. He has gone on to be a very successful campaigner on environmental issues. We doff our hats to the likes of Al Gore.
Then there was Atta Mills, a university professor who had never been in politics and was handpicked by the NDC to occupy the tainted seat left behind by the walloped and humiliated Mr Arkaah – a politician who had dared to be his own man and to ask difficult questions in a Rawlings cabinet and suffered dearly for it. This very first foray into the political arena cast a big shadow on the judgement of the man who is now our president. He took the softer option.
Even more surprising was the Swedru Declaration that followed, when our learned professor was simply propelled by the then very popular Rawlings to succeed him. He accepted, once again, a rather soft option. By this time, alarm bells should have started ringing out loud about the judgement of the man who hoped to be our president.
Anybody who believes the fumbling Atta Mills would ever have won an election in Ghana on his own merit without the fervent support of Jerry Rawlings and his wife is probably not facing reality. He would hardly have won an NDC primary, let alone a general election and I even doubt he would have bothered to stand at all, seeing how out of his depth he appears to be in the political arena. He dealt the Rawlings card from the bottom of the deck, and then once power had been bestowed on him, belatedly decided to try to be his own man for once, by surrounding himself with lieutenants who posed no threat to him, but some of who nevertheless remain an embarrassment to the government and the people of Ghana.
A Team B side (apologies to Spio-Garbrah) can offer nothing but Team B advice. And the fact that the president even allows himself to be swayed by these people, casts a slur yet again on the judgement of the man. We are talking here of people like Baba Jamal, caught on tape advising civil servants to lie, and exaggerate and be dishonest while disseminating government information or be dismissed. I take serious exception to this and to the fact that the president has remained silent on this issue.
Was this just an attempt at spin gone wrong, or an issue that strikes at the very heart of our credibility and brings into question the integrity of not only Baba Jamal, but of his boss and the government as a whole? Silence is no option here! If this is the pervading philosophy in this government, then is it any wonder we cannot get to the bottom of issues? We are no nearer finding the truth about STX or of the proposed purchase of military jets. We are buying black sheep and painting them white. When faced with the wrath of Ghanaians, the minister said he had merely been joking. I am not surprised. The whole government has become nothing but one big joke
Don’t be deceived. “Asomdwehene” and “God is the president” are all facades, calculated to throw dust into our eyes and to disguise our president’s personal weakness as a leader. A football manager picks his coaches and his team, often in his own image, and takes responsibility for their performance. Is it not surprising, that the Asomdwehene has been responsible for hiring some of the most arrogant, undisciplined and verbally virulent individuals to be his ministers. Where is Atta Mills’ political judgement?
At the end of the day, God is not our president. God only permits us as individuals to avail ourselves of the blessings he bestows on us. Times are hard. Economies are crumbling. Our people are suffering. We need to be led out of “Egypt” to the “Promised Land.” We need a president to motivate our people, to inspire and to comfort them, and what do we get? A latter day Moses with impaired judgement and no miracle stick to part the red sea. Heaven help us all.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Ghana-Nigeria Films and Zack Orji's "Designer Beard"
Ghana-Nigeria Movies and Zack Orji’s “Designer Beard”
Most Ghana–Nigeria movies are so bad, one finds oneself entertained merely by how bad they are. And this is no attempt to impugn all the effort and hard work that probably goes into making them. They are just bad movies! In some of the films, there are obvious attempts to make a quick buck at our expense. Why do I watch them? I have no choice. I cannot watch foreigners all the time – and that, unfortunately, appears to be why they are getting away with it.
For how long can one endure the dreary jokes of Agya Koo for instance? Give the guy his due – he is naturally funny and has done well for himself. But the idea that merely employing his services and getting him to rely on his spontaneity and talking all the time is enough to sell a movie is creative laziness. The guy can play funny roles alright, but he needs help. The stories have got to be well- written and his role properly streamlined while giving him some room to improvise every now and again.
Realistically, do our rich people always live in spanking new mansions with just basic furniture and with nothing ever out of place? Not even a newspaper on the centre table? Are their bedrooms always so spotlessly clean? Surely an occasional crumpled sheet or a shirt hanging on a chair would not be unusual. Basically, however rich a person is, a house has got to look “lived-in” rather than a hired empty house. And for goodness sake, our rich people are not always impeccably groomed when they are at home.
The least said about the quality of acting, the better. But the acting is bad mainly because the directors probably do not have the ability to get the best out of the actors. A good director can make a bad actor look good and a good actor, brilliant. Our film directors are probably well-trained and qualified, but unfortunately, this does not reflect in our films.
Our artistes ought to take some responsibility for upgrading themselves, researching well for their roles and generally maintaining high professional standards. In preparing for his role in “The Last King of Scotland”, Forest Whitaker went to live in Uganda for months to not only learn Swahili, but also to pile on the pounds to attain the same body weight as Idi Amin. Of course I know he is paid millions to perform, compared with the pittance our actors receive and this comes with a responsibility to perform to the best of his professional expertise. There is absolutely no comparison. But how much would it cost to shave off Zack Orji’s “designer beard” for example?
Zack Orji is a good versatile Nigerian actor. I have seen him play a loving father, a businessman, a rogue, a chief and even a madman. I wonder, though, how many madmen walking the streets the way he was in his film, have “designer beards”. Allowing facial hair to grow for a couple of weeks or shaving it off would not cost a penny, but it would definitely enrich the film. Zack Orji has the same “designer beard.” It is not all about money.
The “Lord of the Rings” comprises three separate films that cover one very long story. The genius of the directing is in the fact that each film, though a part of a trilogy has a life of its own. Each one is a complete enjoyable film, though the three films fit together perfectly in the end. The habit of carelessly interrupting a film anywhere with “To God Be the Glory, Look out for Part 2” is as annoying as it is dishonest. It is dishonest because, you would have been sold half a film for the price of one, so you would be compelled to buy the part 2 which would be a quarter film, with the other quarter consisting of recollections from the first part.
Taking part in sex scenes in films is not “by force.” If you are not comfortable with it, don’t do it. Don’t take the part. It takes extraordinary acting skills and careful camera arrangement for two people to convincingly pretend to be having sex when they are not. Anyone who has watched Halle Berry in “Monster’s Ball” would testify to that. It looks so bad when the actress appears embarrassed by the scene. And in any case, we don’t have to have sex scenes if we are not going to do it properly. There are so many other ways of implying same.
The degree of copying from foreign movies is sad, to say the least. So for instance, when I watch Kofi Adjorlolo in “Royal Battle”, I do not expect to see an African King with a tiger on his shoulder. I do not expect to see scantily clad girls throwing petals at his feet. This was an imaginative American writer’s portrayal of kingship in Africa in “Coming to America.” He had the right to do so. It’s called poetic license. The shades of mockery therein are nevertheless, obvious to all. How inappropriate then, that Africans, who should be able to paint a better picture of their own society should resort to copying what the Americans did. Even the theme music was copied. Apart from being downright illegal, it reflects a certain lack of artistic sophistication that is insulting to the intelligence of the Ghanaian film lover.
We have not made any effort to come to terms with the simple technicalities of film-making. The sound in our movies is so bad that one often has to turn to the maximum volume to hear anything at all and woe betide you then if you absent-mindedly turned to another channel. There would be a momentary frantic fumble as everybody dashed for the remote control to bring the volume down. Worse still, there is sometimes a delay in the sound so one only hears what an actor has said after they have fallen off to sleep.
Apparently in an effort to cut costs, some film-makers in Ghana and Nigeria employ the services of a guy who writes a few verses for the whole film and then plays them repeatedly on a keyboard and sings them all himself in a rather horrible irritating voice. Sure, there must be hundreds of budding musicians in Ghana who would love their music to be on film for next to nothing. Musicians are actually paying payola to get their music played on radio. Would they not jump at an opportunity to have their music played in a film?
Even for the biggest films, I read recently, the sound engineers often pick their personal recorders and go out to record sound effects themselves. It does not cost anything. So you could sit under a tree and record birds singing or go to the market to record the market sound. These sound effects could then be used in the movie at no costs. Our movies are devoid of sound effects except for the whining “hweew” sound when a ghost disappears.
We are not doing the simple things right. Good film makers can make reasonably good films within budget constraints. A gentleman once thought of making a film. Having been afraid of ghosts all his life, he decided to counter his fears by making a scary movie. He used an ordinary camera and his own home for the filming. But he had researched the subject matter for a whole year. The result was “Paranormal Activity”, a film made with $15000 but which glossed $135,000,000 in the box office. It can be done. All we need is a little bit more imagination and creativity.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Most Ghana–Nigeria movies are so bad, one finds oneself entertained merely by how bad they are. And this is no attempt to impugn all the effort and hard work that probably goes into making them. They are just bad movies! In some of the films, there are obvious attempts to make a quick buck at our expense. Why do I watch them? I have no choice. I cannot watch foreigners all the time – and that, unfortunately, appears to be why they are getting away with it.
For how long can one endure the dreary jokes of Agya Koo for instance? Give the guy his due – he is naturally funny and has done well for himself. But the idea that merely employing his services and getting him to rely on his spontaneity and talking all the time is enough to sell a movie is creative laziness. The guy can play funny roles alright, but he needs help. The stories have got to be well- written and his role properly streamlined while giving him some room to improvise every now and again.
Realistically, do our rich people always live in spanking new mansions with just basic furniture and with nothing ever out of place? Not even a newspaper on the centre table? Are their bedrooms always so spotlessly clean? Surely an occasional crumpled sheet or a shirt hanging on a chair would not be unusual. Basically, however rich a person is, a house has got to look “lived-in” rather than a hired empty house. And for goodness sake, our rich people are not always impeccably groomed when they are at home.
The least said about the quality of acting, the better. But the acting is bad mainly because the directors probably do not have the ability to get the best out of the actors. A good director can make a bad actor look good and a good actor, brilliant. Our film directors are probably well-trained and qualified, but unfortunately, this does not reflect in our films.
Our artistes ought to take some responsibility for upgrading themselves, researching well for their roles and generally maintaining high professional standards. In preparing for his role in “The Last King of Scotland”, Forest Whitaker went to live in Uganda for months to not only learn Swahili, but also to pile on the pounds to attain the same body weight as Idi Amin. Of course I know he is paid millions to perform, compared with the pittance our actors receive and this comes with a responsibility to perform to the best of his professional expertise. There is absolutely no comparison. But how much would it cost to shave off Zack Orji’s “designer beard” for example?
Zack Orji is a good versatile Nigerian actor. I have seen him play a loving father, a businessman, a rogue, a chief and even a madman. I wonder, though, how many madmen walking the streets the way he was in his film, have “designer beards”. Allowing facial hair to grow for a couple of weeks or shaving it off would not cost a penny, but it would definitely enrich the film. Zack Orji has the same “designer beard.” It is not all about money.
The “Lord of the Rings” comprises three separate films that cover one very long story. The genius of the directing is in the fact that each film, though a part of a trilogy has a life of its own. Each one is a complete enjoyable film, though the three films fit together perfectly in the end. The habit of carelessly interrupting a film anywhere with “To God Be the Glory, Look out for Part 2” is as annoying as it is dishonest. It is dishonest because, you would have been sold half a film for the price of one, so you would be compelled to buy the part 2 which would be a quarter film, with the other quarter consisting of recollections from the first part.
Taking part in sex scenes in films is not “by force.” If you are not comfortable with it, don’t do it. Don’t take the part. It takes extraordinary acting skills and careful camera arrangement for two people to convincingly pretend to be having sex when they are not. Anyone who has watched Halle Berry in “Monster’s Ball” would testify to that. It looks so bad when the actress appears embarrassed by the scene. And in any case, we don’t have to have sex scenes if we are not going to do it properly. There are so many other ways of implying same.
The degree of copying from foreign movies is sad, to say the least. So for instance, when I watch Kofi Adjorlolo in “Royal Battle”, I do not expect to see an African King with a tiger on his shoulder. I do not expect to see scantily clad girls throwing petals at his feet. This was an imaginative American writer’s portrayal of kingship in Africa in “Coming to America.” He had the right to do so. It’s called poetic license. The shades of mockery therein are nevertheless, obvious to all. How inappropriate then, that Africans, who should be able to paint a better picture of their own society should resort to copying what the Americans did. Even the theme music was copied. Apart from being downright illegal, it reflects a certain lack of artistic sophistication that is insulting to the intelligence of the Ghanaian film lover.
We have not made any effort to come to terms with the simple technicalities of film-making. The sound in our movies is so bad that one often has to turn to the maximum volume to hear anything at all and woe betide you then if you absent-mindedly turned to another channel. There would be a momentary frantic fumble as everybody dashed for the remote control to bring the volume down. Worse still, there is sometimes a delay in the sound so one only hears what an actor has said after they have fallen off to sleep.
Apparently in an effort to cut costs, some film-makers in Ghana and Nigeria employ the services of a guy who writes a few verses for the whole film and then plays them repeatedly on a keyboard and sings them all himself in a rather horrible irritating voice. Sure, there must be hundreds of budding musicians in Ghana who would love their music to be on film for next to nothing. Musicians are actually paying payola to get their music played on radio. Would they not jump at an opportunity to have their music played in a film?
Even for the biggest films, I read recently, the sound engineers often pick their personal recorders and go out to record sound effects themselves. It does not cost anything. So you could sit under a tree and record birds singing or go to the market to record the market sound. These sound effects could then be used in the movie at no costs. Our movies are devoid of sound effects except for the whining “hweew” sound when a ghost disappears.
We are not doing the simple things right. Good film makers can make reasonably good films within budget constraints. A gentleman once thought of making a film. Having been afraid of ghosts all his life, he decided to counter his fears by making a scary movie. He used an ordinary camera and his own home for the filming. But he had researched the subject matter for a whole year. The result was “Paranormal Activity”, a film made with $15000 but which glossed $135,000,000 in the box office. It can be done. All we need is a little bit more imagination and creativity.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Monday, 8 August 2011
Robert Mensah and the Battle of Kinshasa
Robert Mensah and the Battle of Kinshasa
The recent football contest between Ghana’s Black Meteors and the Nigerian Dream team was, in a way, a throwback to Ghana’s battles with the Congo, especially in the early seventies. There were allegations of substandard accommodation, of refereeing ineptitude and hints of juju. Back then, however, the choice was not between a three star hotel and a four star one. It was between having a bed or just a table, as Asante Kotoko found out in the second leg of the final of the 1970 African Club Championship in Kinshasa against Tout Puissant Englebert.
TP Englebert had secured a 1-1 draw with Asante Kotoko in Kumasi and with no away-goal-rule at the time, needed to win the second leg outright to win the trophy. Asante Kotoko arrived in Kinshasa and were shocked to realize, that the accommodation reserved for them was a classroom block. There were armed soldiers loitering in the vicinity but they were not there for the protection of the players. They were there to ensure the team did not attempt to move away to another accommodation but would sleep on the tables and chairs in the classrooms and receive their fair share of mosquito bites. The Congolese are yet to confirm whether the mosquito-filled swamp at the back of the classroom was purpose-built for the benefit of Kotoko.
Asante Kotoko were led on the day of the match by Sunday Ibrahim and the team featured such great players like Malik Jabir, Abukari Gariba, Yaw Sam and Osei Kofi but the star of the side was undoubtedly, the enigmatic giant of a goalkeeper, Robert Mensah. Those who saw him in action still swear that Robert is the best goalkeeper they ever saw. His personal charisma and the fact that he died so young may yet have clouded people’s judgement to a degree but from all accounts, he was a genius in the post. Like all truly gifted people, however, he had his flaws and for Robert, this happened to be indiscipline. In fact, he was stabbed to death in “Credo” akpeteshie bar in Tema on a day when his team mates were in camp in Kumasi preparing for a continental game.
Asante Kotoko took the lead early in the game through “goal na mafefe” Abukari Gariba. Congolese strongman Kalala equalized before Englebert conceded a second goal, scored by Malik Jabir. When the referee whistled for a rather dubious penalty for Englebert in the last few minutes, with the score at 2-1, Coach Aggrey Fynn and other Kotoko officials decided to call their players off the pitch in protest against the blatant attempt at robbery. They protested vehemently to no avail until, to the surprise of all and sundry, Robert went up to the officials and pleaded with them to allow the game to go ahead. If there was any justice in the world, he said, it would not be beyond the realms of possibility for him, Robert, to save the day. When the officials finally gave in, Robert Mensah ran to the goalpost, took off his famous white cap and hit the cross bar and the two side posts with it. He put his cap back on, stood on the goal line, opened his arms wide and beckoned to Kakoko, the Congolese penalty expert, to shoot.
There had been simmering rumours about Robert Mensah’s cap and what it did or did not contain but things came to a head once he had started brandishing it as a “weapon” in the heat of battle. The Congolese complained to the referee about “the goalkeeper’s cap” and he ordered Robert to remove his cap before the penalty kick. There was a “volcanic eruption”. Robert Mensah was not about to remove his cap. That cap, a gift from his grandfather, a Cape Coast fetish priest, before he solemnly passed away, and which embodied the glorious spirits of his illustrious ancestors long gone was not about to be cast aside. That cap, his cherished companion in great battles for both Asante Kotoko and the Black Stars in countries far and wide without even the slightest hint of a complaint from anybody was not about to be cast aside at this crucial moment in the final of Africa’s premier club competition. Robert Mensah walked out of the goalpost while the referee shamelessly threatened to end the game in favour of Englebert.
The Asante Kotoko officials who only a short while earlier had been coerced by Robert to allow the game to on, now wished the game over and done with and quietly hoped the giant would change his mind. But who was going to be brave enough to say that to an angry Robert? Soon, an elderly man was seen scuttling down from the directors’ box and engaged in verbal exchanges with riffle-wielding solders who were trying to stop him from entering the pitch. He was the Kotoko president of the time, I.K. Moukerzel. He finally made it unto the pitch, sat by Robert and asked the angry goalkeeper to look him in the eye.
“Robert” he said “you know and I know, that we are being robbed here. But are we going to run away? No! Because that is not the Asante Kotoko way. If need be Robert, we should lose this cup fighting to the very last man.........”
Whether Robert was touched by this message or that he suddenly realized he could be losing the psychological battle will never be known. What is known is that, the great man suddenly leapt unto his feet, threw his cap angrily unto the pitch, run fiercely into the goal, spread out his long arms and beckoned to Kakoko once again to shoot.
Meanwhile, a small group of Congolese soldiers had, amidst cheers from the fans, picked up Robert’s cap with the tip of a bayonet, displaying it as a trophy. Officials of Asante Kotoko finally succeeded in retrieving it, but not before the soldiers had slashed through the inner lining of the cap in a desperate search for the elusive juju they believed was tucked away somewhere in there. Then silence.......! The long period of anticipation and the psychological intrigues had had its toll and one would have thought an earthquake had started, judging from the wobbly legs of Kakoko. It was no wonder, therefore, that he half-kicked the turf as he sent the ball miles over the bar. Asante Kotoko had won.
General Mobuto Sese Seko had had a difficult 5 years in power. By 1970, however, nearly all potential threats to his rule, including Patrice Lumumba, had been smashed. This year marked the pinnacle of Mobuto’s legitimacy and power. Even though Englebert had won the trophy before, Mobuto had been desperate for them to win the 1970 edition to raise the spirit of a depressed nation and serve as a comfortable springboard for future ambitions. Before handing the cup over to Sunday Ibrahim, he turned to his people, his face contorted in disappointment and sheer fury, “You Congolese,” he said “it is because of your foolishness that this cup is going to Ghana.”
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
The recent football contest between Ghana’s Black Meteors and the Nigerian Dream team was, in a way, a throwback to Ghana’s battles with the Congo, especially in the early seventies. There were allegations of substandard accommodation, of refereeing ineptitude and hints of juju. Back then, however, the choice was not between a three star hotel and a four star one. It was between having a bed or just a table, as Asante Kotoko found out in the second leg of the final of the 1970 African Club Championship in Kinshasa against Tout Puissant Englebert.
TP Englebert had secured a 1-1 draw with Asante Kotoko in Kumasi and with no away-goal-rule at the time, needed to win the second leg outright to win the trophy. Asante Kotoko arrived in Kinshasa and were shocked to realize, that the accommodation reserved for them was a classroom block. There were armed soldiers loitering in the vicinity but they were not there for the protection of the players. They were there to ensure the team did not attempt to move away to another accommodation but would sleep on the tables and chairs in the classrooms and receive their fair share of mosquito bites. The Congolese are yet to confirm whether the mosquito-filled swamp at the back of the classroom was purpose-built for the benefit of Kotoko.
Asante Kotoko were led on the day of the match by Sunday Ibrahim and the team featured such great players like Malik Jabir, Abukari Gariba, Yaw Sam and Osei Kofi but the star of the side was undoubtedly, the enigmatic giant of a goalkeeper, Robert Mensah. Those who saw him in action still swear that Robert is the best goalkeeper they ever saw. His personal charisma and the fact that he died so young may yet have clouded people’s judgement to a degree but from all accounts, he was a genius in the post. Like all truly gifted people, however, he had his flaws and for Robert, this happened to be indiscipline. In fact, he was stabbed to death in “Credo” akpeteshie bar in Tema on a day when his team mates were in camp in Kumasi preparing for a continental game.
Asante Kotoko took the lead early in the game through “goal na mafefe” Abukari Gariba. Congolese strongman Kalala equalized before Englebert conceded a second goal, scored by Malik Jabir. When the referee whistled for a rather dubious penalty for Englebert in the last few minutes, with the score at 2-1, Coach Aggrey Fynn and other Kotoko officials decided to call their players off the pitch in protest against the blatant attempt at robbery. They protested vehemently to no avail until, to the surprise of all and sundry, Robert went up to the officials and pleaded with them to allow the game to go ahead. If there was any justice in the world, he said, it would not be beyond the realms of possibility for him, Robert, to save the day. When the officials finally gave in, Robert Mensah ran to the goalpost, took off his famous white cap and hit the cross bar and the two side posts with it. He put his cap back on, stood on the goal line, opened his arms wide and beckoned to Kakoko, the Congolese penalty expert, to shoot.
There had been simmering rumours about Robert Mensah’s cap and what it did or did not contain but things came to a head once he had started brandishing it as a “weapon” in the heat of battle. The Congolese complained to the referee about “the goalkeeper’s cap” and he ordered Robert to remove his cap before the penalty kick. There was a “volcanic eruption”. Robert Mensah was not about to remove his cap. That cap, a gift from his grandfather, a Cape Coast fetish priest, before he solemnly passed away, and which embodied the glorious spirits of his illustrious ancestors long gone was not about to be cast aside. That cap, his cherished companion in great battles for both Asante Kotoko and the Black Stars in countries far and wide without even the slightest hint of a complaint from anybody was not about to be cast aside at this crucial moment in the final of Africa’s premier club competition. Robert Mensah walked out of the goalpost while the referee shamelessly threatened to end the game in favour of Englebert.
The Asante Kotoko officials who only a short while earlier had been coerced by Robert to allow the game to on, now wished the game over and done with and quietly hoped the giant would change his mind. But who was going to be brave enough to say that to an angry Robert? Soon, an elderly man was seen scuttling down from the directors’ box and engaged in verbal exchanges with riffle-wielding solders who were trying to stop him from entering the pitch. He was the Kotoko president of the time, I.K. Moukerzel. He finally made it unto the pitch, sat by Robert and asked the angry goalkeeper to look him in the eye.
“Robert” he said “you know and I know, that we are being robbed here. But are we going to run away? No! Because that is not the Asante Kotoko way. If need be Robert, we should lose this cup fighting to the very last man.........”
Whether Robert was touched by this message or that he suddenly realized he could be losing the psychological battle will never be known. What is known is that, the great man suddenly leapt unto his feet, threw his cap angrily unto the pitch, run fiercely into the goal, spread out his long arms and beckoned to Kakoko once again to shoot.
Meanwhile, a small group of Congolese soldiers had, amidst cheers from the fans, picked up Robert’s cap with the tip of a bayonet, displaying it as a trophy. Officials of Asante Kotoko finally succeeded in retrieving it, but not before the soldiers had slashed through the inner lining of the cap in a desperate search for the elusive juju they believed was tucked away somewhere in there. Then silence.......! The long period of anticipation and the psychological intrigues had had its toll and one would have thought an earthquake had started, judging from the wobbly legs of Kakoko. It was no wonder, therefore, that he half-kicked the turf as he sent the ball miles over the bar. Asante Kotoko had won.
General Mobuto Sese Seko had had a difficult 5 years in power. By 1970, however, nearly all potential threats to his rule, including Patrice Lumumba, had been smashed. This year marked the pinnacle of Mobuto’s legitimacy and power. Even though Englebert had won the trophy before, Mobuto had been desperate for them to win the 1970 edition to raise the spirit of a depressed nation and serve as a comfortable springboard for future ambitions. Before handing the cup over to Sunday Ibrahim, he turned to his people, his face contorted in disappointment and sheer fury, “You Congolese,” he said “it is because of your foolishness that this cup is going to Ghana.”
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
www.papaappiah.blogspot.com
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Of Jets, Armed Robbers and Accident Victims
Of Jets, Armed Robbers and Accident Victims
I must admit that when I heard Ghana was going to purchase some military planes, I was quite happy about the news. And why not? Our armed forces need to be well-equipped. The point is that we either disband our air force and navy and watch thousands lose their jobs, or equip them adequately to be able to support our ground troops when required.
And no one knows when their services may be required. Was it not only recently that the Ivory Coast started making noises about Ghana encroaching on their oil fields and also helping their rebel soldiers? The instability in their country means they have other pressing issues to deal with at the moment. If in due course, their political problems are solved, and if they should then see their neighbor flourish into a middle income country with oil from a field so close to their border, you never know what they might want to do. It has happened elsewhere.
It is essential therefore, at least in the West Africa sub region, that we are seen as a military powerhouse capable of looking after ourselves and no pushovers for anybody. That would serve as a deterrent to others who harbor aggressive intentions towards us. Five military planes would not turn us into a military force, but at least it is a start.
There was also an executive jet of some description that, apparently, was going to be used to transport our peacekeepers and hopefully, God willing, could be leased to the United Nations. “God willing”, because one would have thought, that if a country was going to spend millions of dollars to purchase a plane and hope to recoup some of the money by leasing it to an organization, that they would have at least sought some commitment from the said organization to factor into their calculations. No. Ebeye yie!! We will lease it to the UN!!
Be that as it may, having an executive jet for the military is not a bad idea. Apart from transporting our troops occasionally and being “leased” to the UN, the plane would be available to be used by the president and his entourage in their travels. A lot has been made of the British Prime Minister travelling on commercial aircrafts with the implication that it is rather superfluous for presidents in lower middle income countries to travel in presidential jets. A plane leaves Heathrow airport every minute to all parts of the world. The British prime minister can get unto a commercial flight in minutes. And when he has to travel to places like Iraq and Afghanistan, the air force readily put jets at his disposal. Kotoka cannot compete with Heathrow and we do not expect our president to be sleeping in airports on transit or depending on the goodwill of other countries to put planes at his disposal. We need a presidential jet of some sort.
Again, when the Black Stars had to play a match in Congo and then travel round the world to play against South Korea three days later, the executive plane would have come in handy even if it would have meant asking the GFA to pay for the service albeit at a cheaper rate than the commercial flights they had had to charter. That would have meant the GFA paying less, the money staying in Ghana and our players being more comfortable – Everybody wins.
Then, the minority, as we very well expect them to do, started asking difficult questions and the government lost its nerve completely. Suddenly, the planes were going to be used to transport accident victims from accident sites. Right! That’s a good one, believe me. All over the world, countries have helicopter ambulances to transport the injured. Helicopters can land in the middle of the road and they can reach the remotest corner of the country in minutes. But jets? That is another first for Ghana.
But the best was yet to come. The planes were going to be used to chase armed robbers, and this is coming from a minister of information. Armed robbers! How equipped are our police? Do they have enough vehicles? Could they do with a police helicopter to not only “chase armed robbers” but also monitor traffic and activities like illegal mining and to generally keep the peace? I know we have found oil but buying jets to chase armed robbers? Well, in Ghana everything is possible, as they say.
In the midst of all the confusion, the president had to go to visit flood victims in the Eastern Region. “Atta Mills Defends Purchase of Jets” I read the banner headlines and momentarily gave a sigh of relief. At last some sensible explanation from the president. “The jets can be used to rescue flood victims” he said. I gave up the will to live immediately. If this is how my country is being run, then I weep for Ghana.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
Papaappiah.blogspot.com
I must admit that when I heard Ghana was going to purchase some military planes, I was quite happy about the news. And why not? Our armed forces need to be well-equipped. The point is that we either disband our air force and navy and watch thousands lose their jobs, or equip them adequately to be able to support our ground troops when required.
And no one knows when their services may be required. Was it not only recently that the Ivory Coast started making noises about Ghana encroaching on their oil fields and also helping their rebel soldiers? The instability in their country means they have other pressing issues to deal with at the moment. If in due course, their political problems are solved, and if they should then see their neighbor flourish into a middle income country with oil from a field so close to their border, you never know what they might want to do. It has happened elsewhere.
It is essential therefore, at least in the West Africa sub region, that we are seen as a military powerhouse capable of looking after ourselves and no pushovers for anybody. That would serve as a deterrent to others who harbor aggressive intentions towards us. Five military planes would not turn us into a military force, but at least it is a start.
There was also an executive jet of some description that, apparently, was going to be used to transport our peacekeepers and hopefully, God willing, could be leased to the United Nations. “God willing”, because one would have thought, that if a country was going to spend millions of dollars to purchase a plane and hope to recoup some of the money by leasing it to an organization, that they would have at least sought some commitment from the said organization to factor into their calculations. No. Ebeye yie!! We will lease it to the UN!!
Be that as it may, having an executive jet for the military is not a bad idea. Apart from transporting our troops occasionally and being “leased” to the UN, the plane would be available to be used by the president and his entourage in their travels. A lot has been made of the British Prime Minister travelling on commercial aircrafts with the implication that it is rather superfluous for presidents in lower middle income countries to travel in presidential jets. A plane leaves Heathrow airport every minute to all parts of the world. The British prime minister can get unto a commercial flight in minutes. And when he has to travel to places like Iraq and Afghanistan, the air force readily put jets at his disposal. Kotoka cannot compete with Heathrow and we do not expect our president to be sleeping in airports on transit or depending on the goodwill of other countries to put planes at his disposal. We need a presidential jet of some sort.
Again, when the Black Stars had to play a match in Congo and then travel round the world to play against South Korea three days later, the executive plane would have come in handy even if it would have meant asking the GFA to pay for the service albeit at a cheaper rate than the commercial flights they had had to charter. That would have meant the GFA paying less, the money staying in Ghana and our players being more comfortable – Everybody wins.
Then, the minority, as we very well expect them to do, started asking difficult questions and the government lost its nerve completely. Suddenly, the planes were going to be used to transport accident victims from accident sites. Right! That’s a good one, believe me. All over the world, countries have helicopter ambulances to transport the injured. Helicopters can land in the middle of the road and they can reach the remotest corner of the country in minutes. But jets? That is another first for Ghana.
But the best was yet to come. The planes were going to be used to chase armed robbers, and this is coming from a minister of information. Armed robbers! How equipped are our police? Do they have enough vehicles? Could they do with a police helicopter to not only “chase armed robbers” but also monitor traffic and activities like illegal mining and to generally keep the peace? I know we have found oil but buying jets to chase armed robbers? Well, in Ghana everything is possible, as they say.
In the midst of all the confusion, the president had to go to visit flood victims in the Eastern Region. “Atta Mills Defends Purchase of Jets” I read the banner headlines and momentarily gave a sigh of relief. At last some sensible explanation from the president. “The jets can be used to rescue flood victims” he said. I gave up the will to live immediately. If this is how my country is being run, then I weep for Ghana.
Papa Appiah
Lexeve1@yahoo.co.uk
Papaappiah.blogspot.com
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