Honouring the Honourables

Finally, the MC appeared but only to say that some matters "beyond our control" had emerged. He craved the indulgence of the hall full of not less than a 1000 for a little more time before beginning the program. The event was already 40minutes behind schedule and the various “sponsors”, not the paying audience were filling in the time with all manner of messages.
 

Another 20 minutes and the MC returned to announce the beginning of the program, but first we needed to acknowledge the presence of some “important personalities among us”. It was a tall list of “notable” public officers from the past and present, known actors and musicians otherwise called celebrities and a number of media bloated figures. Names were called out, credentials laid out and everyone else asked to acknowledge the “important personalities” with a “round of applause”. 

For doing what, I cannot tell; perhaps for paying the entrance fee to a public event and being present to enjoy the program just like me. Not surprising my name was not mentioned.

Anyway, after parading the “dignitaries”, the MC was kind enough to thank everyone for their patience and inform us that the reason for the wait was over, the guest star of the show had arrived.

 

Elsewhere:

The host walks in and out of the meeting room, sweat beads on his forehead. Something must be amiss; but what? I look around and I see that most people that matter (as far I am concerned) are present; the organizers and host, the audience, the high table has only one empty chair. What more do we need?

Thankfully, some 30minutes after the meeting was to have started the Chairman clears his throat and sets the ball rolling. He introduces those on the high table, walks us through the program and invites the first speaker to the podium for his presentation.

It’s 10minutes into the speaker’s presentation and he is making some very interesting point when the host comes in to whisper in the Chair’s ears. The Chair clears his throat again and interrupts the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen”, he says, “the guest of honour has just arrived. Can we welcome him with a round of applause?”

The ensuing includes first, getting the “guest of honour” to his seat which involves re-arranging seats at the high table and shepherding the new arrival through handshakes and exchanges of pleasantries with the “smiling and eager to greet the big man” present. Second is bringing the just arrived and late personality up to speed with proceedings so far- r-r-r-r-r- rewind.

The speaker; is waiting to return to his presentation and the rest of the audience ... well, they wait too or go blazes.

"The Trouble With Us"

 I went book shopping this weekend, looking to find a specific something I need; I ended up as always looking in other directions! Among the books I came away with is Chinua Achebe’s “The Trouble with Nigeria”. 

It’s a little book of some 63 pages which I read in 2 hours once I got home. The book was published in 1983 and though it speaks of Nigeria at that time and before, I felt I was reading about my own country. As I read I kept thinking the book should have been titled “The trouble with Us”.

The book is an admonition and a call to action. It’s about all the things “wrong” with our society. There’s a reminder to the middle classes and so-called educated about their complicity in nation-wrecking and responsibility for nation salvaging. It’s also a reminder that there’s still hope and points to lessons yet to be learned. Achebe puts the blame “simply and squarely” on the failure of leadership and while I agree that there’s much to say about leadership and its failures, I cannot help a strong feeling that we all share in that blame.

It would be nice to know what Achebe thinks today, about the things he speaks about in the chapters of his book - Corruption, Tribalism, Indiscipline, False image of Ourselves, Leadership, Social Injustice and the Cult of Mediocrity ... - and their toll on Nigeria (by 1983). 

I am even more interested to know about our own assessment of whether our lessons have been learned and whether indeed we even identify with Achebe’s picture of Nigeria almost 30 years back!

But while I wait, I thought I would point the book to anyone who would like to read it, especially everyone. Alternatively read a review and still read the book anyway!

Let me whet the appetite with some bits from the book;

“... national habits are a different matter; we resign ourselves to them at our peril” –page 2

“why do the good among us seem so helpless while the worst are full of vile energy?” - page 2

“... I believe that although our condition is critical, and getting worse by the day, we still do have a majority, albeit dormant, of self-controlled citizens” – page 28

“as we were driving through Ankwa we heard a siren and performed the appropriate motions of mild panic and pulled up. Three police vehicles- a jeep, a car and a lorry sped by in the opposite direction. From the side of the lorry a policeman was pissing on to the road and the halted traffic.” – page 35 

‘one of the penalties of exalted power is loneliness. Harnessed to the trappings of protocol and blockaded by a buffer of grinning courtiers and sycophants, even a good and intelligent leader will gradually begin to forget what the real world looks like” – page 37

“we have been “blessed” with a succession of leaders who are said to possess impeccable personal integrity but unfortunately are surrounded by sharks and crooks. ...it has always seemed to me that the test of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised” – page 42

“..you have told us that you want our votes so that you can serve us. If we get killed while you are getting the vote, who then will you serve?” – page 51

“in the specific matter of elections we have deprived ourselves of our potential power over politicians by falling prey to ethnicity and other divisive bogeys they conjure up and harness to their band-wagon”- page 52

“while the electorate is thus emasculated by such instigated divisions, the politician will link up even with his tribal enemy once they get to the legislature ...... Witness the marvelous cooperation with which our National Assembly took over accommodation provided for civil servants on Victoria Island; how quickly they pass bills to increase their emoluments, ...”- page 52

Ring any bells?

The Reality in Reality Shows

Reality shows have been around for a while now. Essentially a bunch of people “act out” “real” situations in real time. I think it goes like this; a situation is created that becomes the reality of participants in a show. The participants respond to the situation as they would “normally”  and their actions in response to the situation is the show.

Right, that was only an attempt to appreciate the expression better for myself. I find the concept of reality shows a tad elusive being a little slow upstairs. First off, the reality thing- is it about real life, or that there’s no script or no staging or that the audience is watching the show live? The “show” is pretty straight forward. It’s on TV so it’s a show.  It is when the “reality” joins the “show” that I get conflicted but I guess that’s the way to get a good sense of what reality shows “really” are?

Now while the show goes on, the rest of us are emotionally drawn into the journey of participants as they scheme, writhe and wriggle in the slippery labyrinth of the human dynamics that evolves from the common interest that also divides them.

The nature of reality shows tends to demand high expectations of entertainment and intrigue for target audiences who need to remain engaged and to participate in the show. So be they money making ventures that come with a prize tag; a project in corporate social responsibility or a need to project a celebrity’s fortunes, the innuendos set forth by designers of the show are always adequately matched by the craftiness of participants, depending on what is at stake.

Many of the shows hold true to the intrigues and entertainment. Big Brother Africa has quickly become noted for conniving alliances, manipulations, sex bargains and trading, plain old gossip, back stabbing... all the headline issues that will arise if a $100k were to be up for grabs anywhere. BBA belongs to the purely money making venture shows which are built around the capacity to survive human travails and make no excuses for niceties. 

For celebrity shows like The Salt n Pepa Show, which I totally love there is no price tag except viewer showings and ratings. Clearly celebrities want to endear themselves to their fans and seek to show themselves as real people; not the crack pots they pretend to be. I don’t feel their reality hitting me in the shows but hey I don’t live the life of a celebrity!

Then there are the talent search types where there’s quite a variety; Vodafon Icon, Project Fame, Talented Kids and so on and so frigin forth. Their real message is probably “Gh’s not got Talent”. Compare for example the American Idol, Nigerian idol and Gh Idols.

One of them which seems to have defied the “reality” in reality shows and still managed to take it to even greater heights hit our screens a couple of years back. The Pulpit it is called. True to its name, it’s all to do with what happens at the pulpit except that the show’s target participants are 12 to 16 yr olds who in real life are hardly in the pulpit business. I wonder why the many novice pastors are not the targets of the show. The organizers are however following the catch phrase “catch ‘em young”. In their own words; the show is [designed to groom and prepare young aspiring preachers and prospective teachers of the gospel, giving them the platform to build confidence and also unearth their God given talents.
Proverbs 22:6 says it all “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it’’. The pulpit is made up of teenagers within the ages of 12 to 16 to mount the pulpit to showcase their charisma and preach the word of God.]

2011 contestants of the Pulpit Show

In my layman’s language that translates to; “train up a child how to put up an act and he will cling to it with his/ her dear life”.

In the show, well rehearsed contestants have mastered “the art of preaching”; they regurgitate bible verses back and forth and best of all play out all the verbal and physical spirit- filled expressions. “Did I hear somebody say amen?...Somebody Shout...Ha...llelu...Lift up your hands and say amen...Give the Lord a clap offering......(the audience provides all the appropriate responses)

In the meantime, the wannabe pastors (actually wannabe winners of some prizes) pace from one end of the podium to another, bang the pulpit, stop and suddenly point their fingers towards the audience like Oral Robert’s “something good is going to happen to you!” ... all that is in the works. The “actors” are great mimics of their seasoned role model bishops and chief priests.  

The reality that seems to be eluding many commentators on this matter is simply this; yes the era of “a calling”, whatever that meant, is so so passé.  Preaching is a deliberate choice people make, not the “Eli Eli...here am I” type of conversation with the unseen voice. The Pulpit simply brings that reality home.

A story was told me once by a priest who had to endure a group of people who figured that a spot behind his apartment was a good place to learn to speak in “tongues” at night.

Sheribaba sheribaba baba baba baba. Now that is what I call a reality show!

 akuyaafriyie@gmail.com

Flaunt it if you’ve got it

The first chimes of the Methodist Church bells in the big commercial town in which Grandma lived was only her cue to get her bath ready on Sundays. Her headgear always consisted of 3 scarves. The first tied up her hair so the hair would stay in place; the second provided the foundation for whatever style was on for the day; and the third... well that was a sight only to be held at first hand. Naturally, we were always late to church. The priest and singing bands would have settled down after the procession and first praises segment. Even Christ’s Little Band would have quietened down by the time we reached the church.

Grandma was held in high esteem in the church and had a seat reserved right in the front row of pews. As a rule, we always entered through the wide back entrance properly positioned in the centre. Turns out the distances from the side entrances, 2 on either side in front and 2 on either side mid section of the church were too close to her seat. All eyes turned back to behold us as we entered each Sunday. The priest paused and there was silence; except the ko.........ko..........ko.........ko of granny’s stilettos and the kum, kum, kum of my “guarantee” shoes otherwise known as block heels.

Grandma was always compelled to restrain me from frolicking off un-majestically to my seat with a grip on my hand. This particular activity made her cross because apart from showing that I had retained none of her painstakingly delivered lessons in royal sauntering, my behaviour often threatened to destroy her well composed demeanour. Nose in air, head upright, shoulders straight, tummy tucked in and a look of slight disdain about her as she floated to her place. When we finally reached our seats and after Grandma had taken the pains to wipe off any imaginary dust particles left by the cleaner’s rather “unclean” rag, we settled in for the sermon (30 minutes gone) and all went back to normal. Not quite really; the buzz usually continued and it was clear grandma’s presence was a distraction more suited for a high society event.   

Grandma was a show off, no doubt about it, and why not? She felt she had “arrived”; the only one among her peers married to an educated man and an educationist for that matter, a successful trader herself, and 2 daughters all of whom had gone through university even though she never saw the four corners of a classroom herself; she had more than “arrived”. The church ritual was only one of the many ways she got the message across.

[To “arrive” is to attain a level of achievement

determined by one’s own sense of self actualization.

 It is known to induce mindboggling antics of various proportions]

Grandma’s credentials may have matched her times but would most certainly not stand up to any sort of “arrival” in our day. The stakes are increasingly upped. For example it is no more enough to have a degree; the basic is a second degree or better still MBA. A car is normal; a 4/4 is average unless it’s a Touareg or something in that range.

The great thing is, this sense of self actualization is a very personal experience (albeit to be manifest for the public good) so different levels are permitted.  So then, what reaaly catches my fancy is not so much what is being celebrated but how the what is celebrated.

Say, celebrating adolescent years with the tallest “Punk” or “Grace Jones” haircut. Dude you are gee! Or, announcing after school status or the acquisition of a “new” weather beaten car by revving and screeching around your neighbourhood or other public places. Charlie you are more o!

The working classes i.e. adult, business leaders, career types have a much wider range of attention-grabbers. Fidgeting with the “latest” models of mobile phones while discussing its features or giving up human interaction for conversations between computer tablets in public places. Electronically locking, unlocking, and locking their cars at least 5 times after walking a few paces away from the car and having loud conversations over the phone about meeting up at the latest hangout. Other times taking root in front of the plebeians for the most part of a live stage performance as they record the act with iPads, camcorders, what have you. Eii you fit flex!  

There is also the intriguing trend of personalized car numbers. These are truly brow-raising given the diversity in the types and conditions of vehicles they label. I mean, whereas they look quite in their place (notwithstanding ridiculous labels like FRESH PRINCE 1) on snazzy BMs and Touregs etc., I have wondered what kind of “arrival” occasions their presence on vehicles that my old Honda would outshine with ease.  Anyway, that gives way to labels like AKUYA 1 so I am not complaining!   My good friend will say "I fit die!"

But none of these contemporary show offs had managed in my view to beat Grandma’s more sophisticated performances until recently. I sat lazing in the bistro of a well-known hotel, enjoying the ambience and occasionally eavesdropping on some really interesting conversations (actually I could not help hearing them with a little straining of my ears), smiling smugly to myself and beginning to feel a gradual sense of my own “arrival” coming over me. A sudden change in the general calmness around me turned my attention to some activity of much interest.

The smell of his cigar preceded him, followed closely by the smoke, then the guffaws. After a little while, the tips of his shinny, heavy, ankle length boots. He stopped at the top of the stairs presumably to survey the terrain of his intended physical assault. From where I was sitting I could not see his face yet but I could almost swear I heard the music... you know like in cowboy movies ... Tanana tana nana-a-a. Then the shadow slowly reveals the man from the feet up. Cigar in the right and a snigger around the left end of his mouth, he let out a few puffs and thumped down the stairs, each step sending some shock waves through the hall.

He had on a wide cowboy hat, a T-shirt, khaki shorts almost down to his ankles and white socks. As he swung through the glass doors into the open air area, I noticed he had what I later found out to be his name embroidered on the pockets of his khaki shorts, “YAWO”. Now, that’s admirable personal branding at what 50 plus? Something that could be useful for Ghana’s branding intentions at 55 I should think.  

Anyway, to cut a longish story short, all eyes were on the new guest. All else stopped. My cappuccino was late. The buzzzzz was on.

I must say Grandma had style! But this was a show stopper granny would have approved

akuyaafriyie@gmail.com

Animal Farm

When my son returned from school a few years back agonizing about the lack of a Head of Family in our home and suggested I had some explaining to do, I was understandably quite peeved. Off course I knew the origins of that comment. We or I had given up our “head” a couple of years back. Now to "lose one’s head" has dire consequences so I did not take the matter lightly. I set about to find out what other information had been provided that would allow me to launch a fitting attack on the female traitor of a tutor!

His teacher had laid out quite clearly that a man is the head of the family...um because the Bible said so and because traditionally it is understood so. I have no qualms with that so long as the head as expected made room for the brains and other necessaries usually to be found in it, and doubly too otherwise what would be the difference between my head and the other. There was no talk about what the head’s job was, nor was there any talk about where the tail was to be found and what its role could be in the family. That was left to observations at home and since there was no “head” to be found at home in this case, a practical challenge arose. And thus was the basis of my son’s anguish.

Personally I thought (still do), head, tail or middle section the family is made up of humans who may be males, females, hermaphrodites or whatever else science has classified. They all do their bit albeit within the constraints of biology and society’s expectations to get the family going. I know there are some tinkerings a-going in the biology department but the primary differentiation is still intact. All Ps belong in one group and all Vs belong in the other.

My son was too young for that conversation anyhow so rather, I pointed out to him that the way I saw it, there were actually two heads in our home, his and mine. I also provided a rather sophisticated figurative explanation of what the head was supposed to represent. Since I was firmly in that seat, I also felt justified to take on the title, in this instance quite necessary. So mommy is the head of our family.

I think it went down well at the time because he nodded in a wise way. Subsequently I took further steps to remove my son from the grips of the school in which his still developing sense of self and belonging was seriously threatened. 

My mind went back to this experience recently as the International Women’s Day (IWD) was celebrated and the usual and necessary calls for women empowerment were again ringing loud. This time there were also reviews of how far we had come; many more girls are in school, there are women of worth holding top positions in society etc. etc. etc., which means there has been some progress in the strive for male female equality. I agree.

Affirmative Action has contributed to this progress with the push for girl child education, non-abuse of women, quota in political office, interstate law and so on and so forth. Many examples exist to attest to improving circumstances of women. The “what a man can do a woman can do better” chant which belonged to the Beijing/ Equality campaigns also did its bit. Frankly I never was comfortable with that chant. I think it is absurd; why would I want to piss over the toilet bowl let alone perfect that act? Okay that was a joke (in all seriousness). Off course women are as intelligent and as devious as men, if not more, but some people have taken that chant to mean, “if a man can have multiple partners, so can I sort of thing. That may be consistent with the general chant of equality and capability, but no doubt un-empowering I should think.  

The continued calls for “more to be done” however point to the continuing imbalance in gender relations in our society. More education, top jobs, widened career options etc have not changed much the sense of self worth or the place of the woman in the family. The family incidentally is accepted as the core of society so it’s a big deal. Thus the seeming need for women to have to prove themselves to be at par with men continues. And it’s all largely the fault of the “head of family” thing, say I. What next then?  

One way to approach this empowerment (of mind) issue and perhaps the first is to scrap the “head”, “tail” teachings. This is school, education, scholarship not an opportunity to deepen a sense of superiority or inferiority between genders. Even the churches have failed to get their followers to appreciate what the “head” really means. Only feeble pleas for sensitivity, understanding and love for the woman so as to ensure “complete submission” to the man persist. http://islamqa.info/en/ref/930 and www.openbible.info/topics/head_of_household are two examples. This teaching however is also outside of school where it is more challenging to tackle but possible in family settings where children experience no discrimination of the sexes.

There is also the matter of the country’s laws/constitution and how they push for equality of the genders positively.  After all, a turf war can only begin with what is allowed or available and what is not. In my lay person, perhaps naive view there seems a fundamental conflict, inadvertent maybe, in how our laws project this imbalance. Indeed if I was as audacious as I pretend to be, I may have made some contribution on the matter to the constitutional review process. Unfortunately I am no lawyer (in case that is necessary) and the respected few I spoke to about this, including gender activist lawyers only gave me that “yeah, this is a difficult subject” sad smile. So, I am on my own in this challenge.

A summary of provisions from the constitution is where I start;

-          The constitution guarantees the protection and preservation of fundamental human rights and freedoms. (necessarily)

-          All persons are equal before the law. (I should presume so)

-          The laws of Ghana comprise among others rules of customary law which are the rules of custom applicable to particular communities in Ghana. (understandable but problematic)

-          All customary practices which dehumanize or are injurious to the physical or mental well-being of a person are prohibited (good show!)

-          A person is not to be discriminated against on grounds of gender, race, colour, ethnic origin, religion, creed or social or economic status. Discrimination means to be given different treatment whereby persons of one description or other as mentioned are subject to “disabilities or restrictions” that are not extended to other persons. (well said)

So in plain English, all persons are the same in relation to the laws of my country and should expect to be treated same; no discrimination. Also, all practices that undermine the wellbeing of any person are disallowed.

Why then do our laws (family) uphold the practice of potentially polygamous unions by way of customary law marriages?  Off course one can argue that the women can exercise the same right, yes? No, that rule is based on custom which does not allow the reverse. What clearer indication of one not exactly equal to one do we need?

So question: is this rule discriminatory or not? Is this rule injurious to the well-being of an identified group or not? I think yes on both counts. It is injurious not only psychologically and physically to the woman but also economically and socially. Worse still, it hurts the whole family and society when in one breath all are equal and in another, some are more equal. 

How does that figure?

akuyaafriyie@gmail.com

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?

Long ago I watched beauty pageants in a state of wonder, dazzled by all the glitter. shimmering dresses and flashing lights; long spiky eyelashes and equally long and lustrous black, brown, blond, you name it coloured hair; tall, slender females on stilts.

And no-o-w from the Apollo theatre in A-thens let’s welcome the contestants; Miss USA! (Usually from Texas); Miss Singapo-o-ore! (a definite finalist); Miss A-a-r-rgentina! (a favourite); Miss Venezuela (born to win) and Czechoslovakia, Ukraine, Sweden ....

They all vied for Miss World or Miss Universe and later Miss International, Miss Earth and quite a few others. Participants floated onto the stage, waving their hands just beside their heads and smiling non-stop to take their spots. But for the peacock dress which featured almost each year, I imagined myself in all the stunning drapery even though people from my continent were hardly visible on that platform at the time. That was like in the 70s? The world pageants are now truly international affairs in which all continents including mine are represented. The consequences of this “internationalization” of staged beauty for whatever reason is what is threatening my childhood love for pageants.

                                                                                                                       

From the national contests that feed into the world event to those inspired by regional celebrations, traditional festivals, and yet still school based contests, beauty pageants have taken on a life of their own in my country. Indeed Ninos (new comers) nights in some secondary schools in Ghana are now sporting the event as a main attraction. In this case the main beneficiaries are the senior boys who challenge each other to win the “trophy” and subsequently monitor the list of “been to’s”.

The events have kept the spirit and drama of earlier world pageants intact; eyelash extensions that would cause damage on more delicate skin; thin to the bones figures and best of all long, straight pony-tail hair that reach to the protruding section of the behind. The hair is usually purchased at great cost from the stables; the rubber factory or someplace else I don’t want to imagine. Unless there is a prize for presenting as a Black Chinese, Blonde Black, or Black anything else not related to origin, I am not at all sure why the exertions. But then again, what do I know? The only snag in the copycat series so far is the saying something bit to which a rich variety of LAFA (you really should know what it stands for by now- Locally Acquired Foreign Accent) is being attended.  Those are the moments I turn the TV off and imagine how many Oyibos are being entertained at that particular time.

Thankfully current Miss Whatever’s seem to be picking on the thrust of collegiate contests which featured more brain battles and less skin. Personality and Intelligence for example first became part of the evaluation of Miss World contests in 1980 after 30 years. Vital statistics was also said to have been downgraded that year. The Miss World contest now runs the Beauty with a Purpose program. There are also titles such as Congeniality, Best National Costume and a few other newfangled ones to be won on the Miss Universe contest. Offcourse these attempts to de-objectify women do not wash with feminists groups who last bared their teeth in 2011 at the Miss World finals in London saying the contests reduce women to the sum of their parts.

At home the likes of My Village’s* Most Beautiful are making a good effort to highlight aspects of the female beyond her physical contours. What can I say? I am filling in some history and loving it! A young woman had to spoil my fun not too long ago on the show though. She was asked the capital of the region she was representing. Before she answered, I was like haaba! That’s easypeazy and unfair to others lining up for the audition. Clad in blue tights and the “traditional” pony tail, a Chinese bob in front and a dash of blue paint to match and block heels in which she could hardly take coordinated steps, she managed a catwalk quite like a hen about to drop an egg. Let’s just say her answer surprised me.

Later, I wondered. Could it be the interviewer got it wrong? Should the question have been along the lines of “who is Britney Spears?” After all these are all “Miss World” hopefuls.