-G-
WOMAN, NO MAN.
Do you know that it was White men who first came into us. After they left their women to sail the seas. Left their women to see what lay beyond the edge of the world. Left their women. Behind. Do you know what I am saying?
Why were they always leaving their women? Don't they love them?
I know they love our women.
You know there's the race issue. There's the class issue. And there's the ass issue. You know that's why they made the bustle the fashion rage during the colonial era.
What kind of man leaves his woman. Or perhaps it is only men who leave women. Men go it alone and love it. You know, rape, pillage, plunder. Have fun. You know what I mean?
If you're a man reading this, you know what I mean.
If you are a woman reading this, you really, really know what I mean.
Men leave and go it alone. A woman always brings/births family.
When they came here they had no women with them. Now, look at the colors amongst us -- all the different shades, hues, and intensities of our skin.
Do you notice that in the movies Tarzan is never shown with an African woman but where did all of the brown babies of black women come from?
In the daylight, Tarzan swings with Jane, but at night, at night. Tarzan's fascination is obvious when you look at the way we look since Tarzan has made himself part of the family.
***
One night I was sleeping and Tarzan was in the bed, snoring next to me. He must have been dreaming because he called your name. I woke him.
"Man, you're keeping me awake."
"So you woke me to tell me I was keeping you awake?"
"You were dreaming."
"And how the devil do you know I was dreaming?"
"Because you called her name."
"Whose name? Jane?"
"No."
I looked away.
Tarzan stirred, throwing the covers back. He was naked and I looked at his member. It did not seem to be any longer than mine.
"I was not dreaming. A dream is an imaginary thing. I was in fact and have been for a long time having quite a go of it with your woman, old chap. Well, she's not really yours, but she is quite a woman."
Suddenly I saw you climb silently out of the bed. You were naked. When you saw me, you picked up a cloth from the foot of the bed, wrapped yourself, and stood smoldering beside the bed. I lay there fully clothed. You looked at me and said nothing. I looked at you and said nothing.
"I say old chap would you like to have a go at Jane?"
In the language of our eyes, you told me no. Don't go.
"Or would you like to have a go at her when I'm done?"
Tarzan motioned for you to drop the cloth. I jumped up, stalking out of the room. When I got in the hall slamming the door behind me, Jane was fleeing down the hall, running toward my room. I went to your bed and you were gone, probably still in Tarzan's bed. Jane was crying in the hallway, slumped beside my bedroom door. She looked so white lying there. And I stood not knowing where to sleep. Somehow, I never thought of lying in my own bed.
"I say old chap would you like to have a go?"
***
In a very perceptive and sensitively written, although provocatively titled, book Alex Shoumatoff, a travel writer and naturalist investigates the social reality of contemporary Africa. His book is called African Madness. A collection of four long essays, the fourth one, "In Search of the Source of AIDS" contains an interesting aside which suggests the fascination that African female sexual activity generates.
Shoumatoff is careful to deflate the more sensationalist claims, and even casts a cold light on totally unreliable statistics which are often used to buttress a case for Africa as both the source of AIDS and Africa as the site of a raging AIDS epidemic.
As he converses with an anonymous physician in Zaire about the high incidence of heterosexually transmitted AIDS in Africa, Shoumatoff makes the following observation:
We talked about the risk of being infected by a single sexual contact with an infected person. Estimates range from one in ten to one in a thousand. There are no believable figures, but it would seem that the virus is not very easily acquired when both partners are healthy. It is more readily transmitted to the woman, which would suggest that Zairois men are more promiscuous than women if the sex ratio of AIDS cases is equal.
He explained that heterosexual sex was a lot more risky and efficient as a mode of transmission in Africa than it is in the West because the levels of seropositivity are much higher and a lot more people have other diseases. I wondered if the way sex is performed has anything to do with it. For most Africans, sex is a matter of vigorous old-fashioned humping, often without foreplay, which means that there is insufficient lubrication, and the genitalia of both partners are therefore liable to abrasion. Some researchers have speculated that the duration of the sex act, and the frottement, or grinding, that the women of certain tribes are famous for, certain techniques like the titikisha, Swahili milling movement, and the okuweta ekiwoto, the frenzied twisting of the waistline of Baganda women, may play a role. In other tribes, like the Tutsi and the Kikuyu, the woman is not supposed to move during intercourse lest she be thought of as a prostitute. It seems reasonable that the longer the genitals are in contact and the more fluid that is emitted and the more frottement the greater the chance for infection. But like the theories about ritual scarification, female circumcision, and blood brotherhood, this is not supported by any scientific study.
What scientific study supports the generalization that "For most Africans, sex is a matter of vigorous old-fashioned humping, often without foreplay..."?
Are there no names for the "grinding" movements that the "men" of certain tribes are famous for?
Why are women always the site of sexual attention in the West, from Freud's "penis envy" and "vaginal orgasms" to Shoumatoff's "frottement"?
Could it be that the Western patriarchy, and by extension, most men in the contemporary world via the influence of Western media, are actually filled with envy and awe in the face of the undeniable power of the female womb to generate life, not to mention the immense attraction that the vagina/womb has to owners of penises, even to homosexuals who often adopt feminine characteristics?
Women. Could it be fear and envy -- fear of female power, fear of what in comparison is perceived as male weakness; envy of female fecundity, envy of the ability of women to do everything a man can do except, of course, generate sperm?
Tarzan's other name is Dr. Frankenstein. Not the monster, mind you, but the good doctor, the man who would create life. The dream of every generation of Euro-centric manhood. Articulated in the Greek mythology of Zeus giving birth to a goddess out of his brain. Proselytized in the Christian mythology of Adam giving birth to Eve. And institutionalized in gender chavanism, in the patriarchy of Western culture. All in an effort to supplant women, make women superfluous. Why?
***
In her paper "The African Woman Today," Ghanian writer Ama Ata Aidoo noted: "In most countries of Africa whole sectors of the economy, such as internal trade, agriculture, agro-business and health care are in the hands of women."
***
Chinwezu, a leading, if not "the" leading, African literary critic is from Nigeria. He is staying at the Marnico Guest House in Cape Coast, as is Ama Ata Aidoo. We are all here to participate in the five day long colloquium.
From what I know and surmise based on my meetings with their respective nationals, Nigeria, by contrast to Ghana, is materially richer but spiritually poorer. In their contrasting attitudes Chinwezu and Ama Ata Aidoo suggest how Africa will face the hard row we have to hoe.
Shortly after Stephanie, Nia and I first arrived at and checked into Marnico, Ama Aidoo's car pulled into the compound. However, she was told that there were no rooms. A discussion ensued. At first Ama Aidoo was going to try to find another place. The manager said they were full. PANAFEST had reserved 10 rooms and they were all taken -- the whole week I never saw ten of us in the hotel, but that is another story.
Then the egg popped out. Some film crew guy had stopped by and told the manager that he might be back for three rooms, so the manager was holding three rooms aside just in case.
Ama Aidoo is a matronly Ghanaian, and when the truth was finally out she asserted herself in the spirit of matrons: You give me a room now. I am not going anywhere else.
She told the driver to unload her bags. The manager relented and she moved in. Hours later I heard some men come into the room across the hall. I don't know whether it was the film crew, nor how many of them they had.
What was nagging at the back of my head is why would the manager try to deny a room to a woman who could easily have been his mother, in favor of a "possible" booking from someone he didn't know.
It would be more than a few days later before I realized what I had run into. The lack of respect we African men have for African women, and the absolute fact that African women are beginning to demand respect. To note one without the other is a mistake because it is women's demands which will overcome men's ignorance.
In many cases, we men don't even realize we are trodding on women.
I know sometimes when I am excited about something, I will charge ahead and stampede Nia. I will put my "two cents" in and expect to talk even when the conversation is not about money. Fortunately, as is her way and in her characteristic tone, Nia will speak softly but firmly to me when I err. She reminds me to respect her space and howsoever she chooses to occupy that space, especially when she chooses to occupy space in ways that are vastly different from the way I would negotiate the territory.
This is not abstract. Men not respecting women and not realizing they aren't respecting women is a real problem of the African world. The solution is for women to demand respect. Those of we men who are serious about building a future will listen to our sisters.
"I know I don't say much, but when I decide to talk, I want to do so without you interrupting."
I felt ashamed of myself when Nia criticized a particular piece of dumb behavior I exhibited. But I felt thankful and a lot better about myself when I was able to catch my tongue on the next occasion I was about to jump in unannouced. Fortunately for me, although my mouth sometimes is undisciplined, my ears work very well. And I try to stay particularly attuned to women when they speak to me, especially when I am being criticized.
***
On Wednesday, 14 December, mother Aidoo left us for a short run to Accra. "I will see you back here on Friday when I come back and when you come back from Kumasi." As she pulled away, Nia and I were sitting in the wooden lawn furniture under a tree in the courtyard. The night before we had sat out past midnight talking with Chinwezu, Haile Gerima and mother Aidoo. It just so happens that early Thursday night, 15 December, Nia and I are sitting at the same table awaiting a ride when mother Aidoo returns from Accra. She joins us and we talk. "Whenever I think of Marnico, I will think of you two sitting here."
We were supposed to go to Kumasi but never made it because we had planned to take a car early, early Thursday morning rather than catch the bus which left Wednesday afternoon. Youssou N'Dour was scheduled to play the castle on Wednesday night -- we went, he didn't and there was no explanation about what happened. Youssou N'Dour's no show at the castle happened after we found out that none of the cars were allowed to drive to Kumasi. We had hit our first string of bad luck on the trip thus far, but even the bad luck turned out good.
Moving to Kumasi on Wednesday afternoon and returning to Cape Coast on Thursday night proved to be a logistical and programmatic disaster. The Kumasi move was especially negative for the Women's Day program which was held in Cape Coast.
The program featured dance and poetry performances by schools, women's associations and individuals. One choir, who waited patiently for three hours, completed their three numbers they had prepared even when the eager emcee tried to talk them off the stage after two numbers. Another drama group, from the northern part of Ghana, did a long musical about marriage with specific moral and practical advice about family planning, sex before marriage and similar issues.
There were welcome addresses and a strong speech from Dr. Mary Grant, who spoke on the need for women to actively assert themselves in all spheres of national development. She spoke in direct and simple terms, not in slogans or rhetoric. The assembled women, some in T-shirts and skirts, some in uniforms, some in Ghanaian dress, all responded with enthusiasm.
Ama Aidoo was sorry to hear that she had missed the program. She asked how it went and said that she had heard that it was beautiful. I then brought up Chinweizu's book Anatomy of Female Power. On the cover of the book is a provocative quote: "For all men who have been confused, misused and abused by women, particularly since the coming of feminism; and definitely not for women." The book is subtitled "A Masculinist Dissection of Matriarchy."
The dedication says: To the handful of women now in my life (platonic friends, lovers, ex-lovers, lovers-to-be); To the countless others who have slipped in and out of my life; and especially To those who have attempted to marry me: From them I have learned most of what I know about women.
Strangely absent in the dedication of a book purporting to analyze "Female Power" is any mention of his mother. Chinweizu sells his 136-page misogynist screed for US$10. Both Ama Aidoo and I had bought a copy from Chinweizu one night when we sat out talking. When I first started reading it, I thought the man had written a satire, a caricature, but as I read on, I was forced to judge him serious in his views.
For example:
A baby is a breathing, bawling, flesh-and-bones club with which a woman can beat a man down to the ground and compel him to toil for her. Even an embryonic baby, a mere speck of a foetus in her womb, will do just fine when a woman wants to bend a man to her will. When she gets tired of supporting herself, she can throw her cares unto some hapless man by getting herself pregnant by him, knowing full well that it would take a most heartless man to abandon their child, and that where the baby goes, she, its mother and nurse, would tag along. That is why their baby is probably a wife's ultimate tool for getting, holding and exploiting her husband. (Pg. 101)
The above quote is not an especially virulent extract, in fact, it's about the norm of most of the book. I could quote paragraph after paragraph in a similar caustic vein. Chinweizu's main thesis is that women control, and thus have power over men.
Female power exists; it hangs over every man like a ubiquitous shadow. Indeed, the life cycle of man, from cradle to grave, may be divided into three phases, each of which is defined by the form of female power which dominates him: motherpower, bridepower, or wifepower.
From birth to puberty, he is ruled by motherpower, as exercised over him by his one and only "mummy dearest". Then he passes into the territory of bridepower, as exercised over him by his bride-to-be, that cuddlesome and tender wench he feels he cannot live without. This phase lasts from puberty to that wedding day when the last of his potential brides finally makes herself his wife. He then passes into the domain of wifepower, as exercised over him by his own resident matriarch, alias his darling wife. This phase lasts until he is either divorced, widowed, or dead.
In each phase, female power is established over him through his peculiar weakness in that stage of his life. Motherpower is established over him while he is a helpless infant. Bridepower holds sway over him through his great need for a womb in which to procreate; if he didn't feel this need, he wouldn't put himself into the power of any owner of a womb. Wifepower is established over him through his craving to appear as lord and master of some woman's nest; should he dispense with this vanity not even the co-producer of his child could hold him in her nest and rule him.
There are five conditions which enable women to get what they want from men: women's control of the womb; women's control of the kitchen; women's control of the cradle; the psychological immaturity of men relative to women; and man's tendency to be deranged by his own excited penis. These conditions are the five pillars of female power; they are decisive for their dominance over male power... (Pgs. 14 - 15)
This is Chinweizu who wrote The West and the Rest of Us and Decolonising the African Mind. This is a major intellectual force. A man whose work is widely known and widely admired. This is also a man who obviously feels that he has been "confused, misused, and abused by women". Although I know neither the cause nor the details, my brother's pain is obvious. He like many, many men in Africa feels intimidated and oppressed by the strength, fecundity and persistence of African women.
As I study more and more about the period of the slave trade and the subsequent colonial period, it is clear to me that not only was Africa depopulated, but a large percentage of her strongest men were literally kidnapped often at the hands of mercenaries. In my opinion, those mercenaries are the immediate ancestors of some of Africa's most brutal Black military dictatorships. But deeper than that brutality, slavery and colonialism also account for the two major prototypes of African male behavior: the macho and the meek.
Chinweizu agrees with me that this is the normative profile of the male, but he, not surprisingly, attributes this to female power over men rather than to the psychology of the oppressed and repressed.
To understand why men have not yet revolted in the wake of feminism, we ought to note that, in their attitudes to women, there are three basic types of men: the macho, the musho, and the masculinist. A macho is a brawny, and sometimes brainy, factotum who has been bred for nest slavery, and who is indoctrinated to believe that he is the lord and master of the woman who rules him. A musho is a henpecked version of the macho who hangs like a bleedy worm between the beaks of his nest queen. A masculinist is a man who is devoted to male liberty, and who would avoid nest slavery. (Pg. 124)
The castration image ("bleedy worm") underscores the virulence of those males who blame women for the current state of powerlessness in world affairs that is the reality of most African men. What is most interesting is that Chinweizu never makes an assessment of the African reality. Most of the quotes are from American and European authors, especially the quotes on feminism.
Choosing to ground his analysis in the psychological realm without first examining the material and the social is Chinweizu's major problem. We should look at the conditions first, then consider why and how we feel about our conditions.
The hard truth is that African women on the continent generally work from sunup to sundown, toiling on foot and with hand tools to eke out subsidence in a world that is terribly skewed against them. Just on a physical level, everywhere one looks, one sees mostly women and children porting material on their heads up and down, the length and breadth of the countryside.
In Ghana in particular, not only are women the numerical majority, and not only do women do an inordinate amount of physical labor, they specifically produce, distribute and market the bulk of indigenous agricultural foodstuffs. The market women are "notorious" for their psychological and economic independence. Ghana's first lady has thrown herself fully into the organizing of women, particularly in the rural areas, through initiatives such as the December 31st Women's Movement.
The PANAFEST Women's Day program was designed to address these and other issues. I didn't see Chinweizu at the program, and assume that he, as were most of the other delegates, was in Kumasi. Because of this scheduling conflict, the importance of the Women's Day program was severely undermined.
There has been a political revolution in Africa. That revolution gained nominal control of what we know today as the independent states of Africa. But in a world of multinational corporations and Euro/American/Asian concentrations of wealth in specific national economies, there is no real Africa independence in the sense of total self-reliance. Africa remains subservient to and aid-dependent on not only the former colonial master states, but also to and on newly emerged Arab and Asian powers. Everywhere in Africa efforts are underway to figure out a winning strategy for an economic revolution.
Africa will not have the luxury of uninterrupted linear development: first in politics, then in internal social affairs, and third in economic affairs. The nations and people of Africa will not have the opportunity to establish nations whose boundaries are drawn up by and in the interest of Africans. The internal affairs of African nations will constantly be influenced by political and economic forces foreign to Africa. Economic development moving from dependency and subservience to self-reliance and independence cannot happen as long as the former colonial powers remain overwhelmingly influential. That's the downside.
The upside is that although we face tremendous odds, at wildly uneven levels, social and economic development is happening in Africa, sometimes sequentially, sometimes in parallel, but happening nonetheless.
The first revolution was political and the ultimate revolution will be for economic self-sufficiency, but between these two is the third revolution, the necessary internal social revolution required for the third step of economic revolution to be successful. African women moving from being the objects of the national productive forces to political and economic decision makers is a prerequisite of national economic independence.
Women are strong in Ghana and elsewhere in the African world but they are neither respected nor in control. Women will have to demand and struggle for both respect and control. Indeed, that is the essence of power, the ability to self-defend, self-respect and self-control one's life.
As contradictory as it may seem, in the long run, I think Africa will see a more genuine empowerment of women than in the West, precisely because African women are already 1.) strong in and central to the daily life of their countries, 2.) integrally involved in the internal economy, 3.) absolutely vital to the national well-being, and, most important of all, 4.) because African women are now beginning to demand respect and control.
The revolution is coming, it's coming. Which is why mother Aidoo had a room at Marnico Guest House.
-H-
ONE STEP BACKWARD, A GREAT LEAP FORWARD.
When I get back people will want to know "what is Africa like." But I am not in Africa, I am in Ghana. Here I have to deal with specifics, "Africa" is a generality.
GHANA The Land, The People And The Culture, A Tourist Guide published by Ghana Tourist Development Limited offers this succinct history of independent Ghana.
Political History
Ghana, formerly the Gold Coast, gained her independence within the Commonwealth on 6th March, 1957 under the leadership of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. On 1st July, 1960, Dr. Kwame Nkrumah proclaimed Ghana a republic and combined the roles of President and Prime Minister. Dr. Nkrumah's Convention People's Party (CPP) government was ousted on 24th February, 1966 through a military coup; and the National Liberation Council (NLC) with General Joseph A. Ankrah as Chairman, took over the administration of the state.
On 30th September, 1969, Dr. Kofi Abrefa Busia and his Progress Party (PP) after gaining majority vote in a parliamentary election, took over the leadership of the state.
On 13th January, 1972 Ghana experienced its second military coup which brought General Kutu Acheampong and the Supreme Military Council (SMC) into power.
There was an uprising on 4th June, 1979 and Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings emerged as leader of the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC) which took over power for 3 months.
Parliamentary elections were held in the same year; and on 24th September, 1979, power was handed over to Dr. Hilla Limann and the People's National Party (PNP) Government.
Two years later, on 31st December, 1981, there was a revolution which brought back Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings to power.
Since then, government functions have been carried out by the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) led by Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings. (P. 17 - 18)
I know as much factual details about the internal politics of Ghana as I do about the internal politics of Washington, D.C., which is to say, in the real world of movers and shakers, I know less than nothing. "Less than nothing" because everything I do know has been carefully filtered by some agency or individual before the information reached my brain.
I am perpetually aware and wary of the high degree of media manipulation and political sleigh of hand that accompanies every government. I have never forgotten an interview with Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, the founding and former president of Tanzania. Mwalimu (teacher) is a Swahili honorific bestowed on Nyerere. He said, referring to the tendency of those in power to do whatever is necessary to remain in power: "all government are conservative. All." Someone asked him what about his revolutionary government. He simply repeated himself and smiled a cryptic, ironic smile that was chilling in its comradely candor.
In the political arena it is dangerous to believe in absolutes. Every event, every experience, every action, every individual, every group can only be appreciated -- if, indeed, appreciation is possible -- in their own relative context.
A military man runs Ghana.
On the ground, at the street level, how is Ghana?
Outside of Accra, modern housing is rare in the south central area through which we traveled. Traditional villages and crumbling vestiges of colonial era buildings are occasionally interrupted by new housing developments. Fortunately, the weather is relatively benign and people can comfortably sleep on the street at night: in door ways, on carts, on benches, tables, everywhere without fear of disturbance or of being robbed blind.
Chickens and goats range freely on roadsides. That certainly would not be possible if people were literally starving. Young coconuts -- their water is a refreshing drink -- are sold for forty cedis (that's roughly four cents). Oranges, apples, bananas, papaya, watermelon, mango and pineapples abound.
Ironically, the vast majority of Ghanaians eat a higher nutritional quality food than we do in the United States. I was startled into this realization by the epiphanous appearance of an ordinary Ghanaian woman walking toward me with a huge tray of colorful, fresh vegetables balanced serenely and securely on her head: bright orange carrots stuck out the front of the tray, an angular array of tender tubers. Were carrots native to Ghana? I just never imagined carrots in Ghana, yet there they were, not as a specialty item for the superrich but an average, everyday, cheap, and ubiquitous, healthy vegetable. My eyes were opened at that moment. Everywhere I looked, there was fresh food.
Corn roasted on the roadside. Peeled oranges piled in small pyramids. Shaved coconuts bunched on a cart -- the empty shells used for fuel to fire the mud ovens where fish is smoked. Freshly harvested pineapples, carved into fragrant slices and wrapped a small handful to a plastic package. On and on.
Fresh fruit and vegetables everyday. Freshly caught fish, free ranging fowl, and small amounts of red meat, supplemented by beans are the staples of the Ghanaian diet. Compare that to the chemical filled, canned, fast food, salt and sugar drenched food that most Americans eat daily. Plus most Ghanaians walk constantly, another health boon.
Sanitation is rudimentary; brackish green sewerage sinks and stagnates as it trickles down narrow, open concrete gutters. The sharp aroma of open air latrines, and the ubiquitous sight of men relieving themselves at the sewer's edge repulses industrially acclimated sensibilities, but you get used to it. That is, you get used to it after you get sick. Usually either malaria or some bug attacking either your digestive or respiratory system knocks you on your backside for a couple of days.
I weathered the toughest cold I have had in years. For half a day I lost my voice. The onset of the illness was sharp pangs across my abdomen, followed by a cold. Strangely, there was no diarrhea. But then a cold in full force, which at its height included a painful tightness in my lungs that made deep inhalations a trial. Because my immune system is very strong, I was able to keep pushing and went about my work just as though nothing was wrong.
One night the mosquitoes drove us inside. I think back to my childhood days in New Orleans when the mosquitoes there would drive us inside. I can remember the fog trucks going around to spray. I can remember the mosquitoes being so bad that the weatherman would warn us when they were spawning in the swamps. I can remember that in my lifetime, New Orleans was not much more advanced in terms of fighting mosquitoes than is Cape Coast, Ghana today. I remember.
How is Ghana?
Other than the sewerage situation, one of the most glaring failures in development is the paucity of mass transportation. Accra is clogged with cars, some of which appeared to be held together by Third World juju -- "Third World" because anywhere in the developing world you go, you see museum-ready automobiles puttering along, sustained by the ingenuity of shadetree mechanics who literally manufacture spare parts and improvise riggings to keep these vehicles in service. For example, the private taxis we rode in were ageless wonders whose parts probably spanned at least three decades. Moreover, the rule of the road seemed to be, if it will roll, let it ride.
The police who were out in force were inspecting licensees for tax purposes rather than inspecting the cars for road worthiness and safety. Road blocks along the highway, and at critical junctures were the rule.
Even though Accra is very large, there seems to be four or five avenues that the vast majority of cars travel, and, during the day these routes are always crowded. As a testimony to African humanness, the traffic jams aren't accompanied by the cursing, and sometimes physical violence, that routinely occurs in the United States.
The people's maintenance genius and civil patience with the traffic clogs notwithstanding, the private automobile remains a symbol of having arrived. A late model, shiny car, whether a luxury sedan or a modest two door economy car, marks the owner as being a cut above the working class. The black or dark maroon, brand new PANAFEST cars, with their distinct license plates, stood out everywhere we went. Needless to say, there was some fierce behind the scenes jockeying to determine who was assigned a car, and how one could get a car if not originally assigned a car.
Stephanie had been assigned a car and we rode with her to Cape Coast. She returned to the States before we did, and we "inherited" her vehicle. The car question was really a question of mass transportation. PANAFEST was a special event, but what did the ordinary people do? They either crowded into private taxis and buses, or onto one of the handful of public service vehicles, or, more likely, they walked.
Perhaps, its my own Western bias, but I think a light rail system connecting the various towns and villages, combined with a major bus system would tremendously facilitate development. But then again, maybe not. Maybe mass transit would only mean people ended up waiting longer for other things. I'm sure there is a reason that the government has not pursued that option -- even if the reason is only that ranking government bureaucrats tend to measure their status by whether they have a private car. Maybe, mass transit is a secondary or tertiary concern in the overall scheme of social needs. Maybe, it's only because I come from America that the whole transportation issue is even important to me. Maybe, but I don't think so. Even America is deficient when it comes to mass transit, particularly between cities.
I remember reading an article about concrete. Yes, concrete; the history and uses of it. In the fifties, succumbing to the construction and automobile lobbies, the federal government decided to institute the interstate highway system. The option, of course, was to develop the rail system for interstate travel. We don't often think of it as a government policy, but the truth is a decision was made favoring the private automobile rather than a government supported rail system. That decision is one reason that Amtrak is such a total embarrassment as mass transit. In any case, while some argue that the government should not subsidize mass transit, the building of the interstate system is the most massive subsidizing of private transportation imaginable.
My point, vis-a-vis Ghana, and the rest of Africa, is that less should be put into private automobiles (including the construction of concrete and asphalt highways) and more into rail based mass transit. Fortunately, it is not too late to make rational developmental choices.
Overall, how is Ghana? Ghana is poor but far from impoverished. People are proud of their traditions and exhibit concern for the well-being of their family, friends and neighbors.
Ghana has dust everywhere. Nevertheless, people are clean, even dirt floors and spaces in front of houses, huts, stands and work sites are neatly swept.
Ghana is underdeveloped. But there is electricity and the phones, though scarce and constantly clogged, do work.
The deficiencies notwithstanding, everywhere one looks, social progress is budding. Though it's too soon to pick flowers and wave bouquets, people are patiently pushing forward. Women's associations. Clubs of young people. In ten years Ghana will be a different place.
Right now, Ghana is a bright smile on the face of a two year old, who is being watched by an eighty year old woman beaming a great grandmother's smile.
Ghana is the promise of young people working computers as well as young people hawking dry goods in the street.
Ghana. The promise of pride in traditions and a thirst for the future.
Independent Ghana is less than fifty years old, full of adolescent vigor and aggressive optimism. Ghana, like all of Africa, for all of its problems, is relatively new in terms of national development even though ancient in terms of social development. Though it lacks capital and technology, what Ghana has is humanity, a veritable sea of patient and optimistic bright Black faces proudly extending their social traditions into the developing future.
***
I have not seen one lion or elephant.
Come to think of it, not one spear nor alligator yet either.
I saw a queen mother who looked like my grandmother.
I saw pinto beans and rice. CNN on cable and scandalous tabloids whose "shocking" revelations are so tame by U.S. standards that one wonders does Ghana realize the state the Western world is in.
By any measure, Ghana has a relatively free press. By comparison to most African states, Ghana's press freedom is almost absolute. In fact, one of the papers is even called Free Press and offers a critical voice on national concerns.
How free is the press? Consider this excerpt from the "MY CONCERN" column by Frank Abu Addo published in the 19th-20th Dec., 1994 edition of the The Ghanaian Voice, Ghana's Best Independent Newpaper.
In his address during the Thanksgiving Service in commemoration of the Silver Jubilee celebration of Ghana Pentecostal Council, President Rawlings talked at length about love for one another.
I was especially touched when he confessed that he had forgiven all those who have trespassed against him (What about the future?)
His second point which I found touching was the fact that the Jews have made a lot of films and documentaries about the Holocaust which serve as library materials and reminders to all living that this is what happened to the Jews on other lands especially Germany. He lamented that nothing of that sort is found here in West Africa on how slaves were taken from the hinterland, their ordeal at the castles and their "triumphant' entry into the voyage ships through the small holes which serve as the exits of the dark dungeons.
Perhaps the President would love to see how the Europeans at the Elmina Castle used to stand on top there, looked into the female area of the dungeons and beckoned any woman they would want to sleep with into their bedrooms upstairs in a local film. Maybe that will explain how half castes and mulattos like himself came into being.
Is that free enough for you?
The Voice's sensationalistic cousin is P & P -- People and Places. Its masthead proclaims "We Report Nothing But The Truth."
Headlines in the December 15th edition of P & P shout "GIRL MURDERS BABY She Throws One and A Half-Year-Old Baby Into Salty Well". Though this paper obviously aspires to attain the wide readership in Ghana comparable to the readership that the National Inquirer has in the USA, the most interesting aspect about its reporting of the incident was the editorial they ran.
Tragic Murder
Christmas is normally described as an occasion for children. Parents are therefore expected to give their children the choicest meals, the best of clothes and toys if only they can afford it.