THE SENIOR SECONDARY SCHOOL CONUNDRUM

PICTURE OF A GIRL ATTENDING A NON-FORMAL SCHOOL
Courtesy: photographersdirect.com

Poor planning,
Half-baked,
Classroom blocks still under construction
Almost time for new admissions
Tents have been placed on standby
In this mess of a sticky situation.


The saga of senior high school
Education still does continue.
Teething problems
And Adhoc measures
On show for all to see.


Was the three year duration
For secondary education really that terrible?
We charged in like bulls in china shops,
Breaking everything in sight,
Slashing and burning as though possessed
By the devil himself.


Now there we sit staring at ticking
Clocks as though waiting for an imminent explosion.
Poorly planned and always unprepared,
At the eleventh hour, trying our best to save our blushes
And splashing paint over our scandalous
Preparations and weak foundations.


All projects have cycles,
In this day and age of softwares such as
Microsoft project and others,
Gone are the days of delayed projects,
Over-billing and other problems
That constrained the construction industries
The entire world over.


How come the Armed Forces have
Been placed on standby with tents?
Provisions being made for temporary shelter
In the event that structures for usage by
Newly admitted students reporting to senior
Secondary schools within the country in
The next month are not completed on time.


What a shame,
Incomprehensible,
Unfathomable
Incompetence rears its ugly head again,
Roaming free in the streets of Accra,
While people line streets welcoming it
As though it were a messiah of some sort.


When push comes to shove,
They plan on placing students in tents
Like the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan,
Like the nomads roaming the sands of the Gobi desert.


I admit, these are just standby measures,
They probably might not be needed anyway
Bu the mere fact that we even comsider this
As an option leaves much to be desired.
Why were we in a rush?
Was the three year secondary education cycle really that bad?
We could have left the three year cycle as it was
And slowly phased it out when all structures
For the four year secondary education cycle were ready.


Three years or four,
Duration makes no difference.
When it’s all said and done,
Quality is what matters most.
With proper planning,
Well trained teachers,
Adequate textbooks and other necessary logistics,
Duration will only play a very minimal role
In this secondary education cliffhanger.


Imagine studying under a tent in the scorching sun,
Then again, who knows?
Those tents just might come equipped with
Air conditioning and Jacuzzis too.
Imagine tables and chairs neatly arranged under a tent,
Imagine students having tents as dormitories,
Imagine chop boxes and trunks sitting in tents,
Brothers imagine,
Oh my people imagine,
Only in Ghana can you imagine this.


I wish I were telling fibs and tales,
I wish it were some rumour
That surfaced in the slums of Accra
One evening among a group of idle youth.
This is neither rumour nor fib,
Provisions are actually being made for this eventuality.


Why did we commit to something when
The structures were not yet in place?
What was our hurry in making this switch?
Was the previous model really that bad?
Or was it all about tricks
Smoke screens, mirrors
And political charades?
I guess in my country,
Half-baked is the new smart,
For tents threaten to rear their heads in our secondary schools.


It’s way past time,
We keep moving around in circles
As though we’re bobbing for apples at the county fair.
Chasing shadows like some modern day fashion
Tripping on our shoelaces in the process.
You mistake laughter from the gallery
And reckless acts by so called foot soldiers
As an endorsement of your tenure.
Please wakeup,
Be up and doing,
You’ve become a laughing stock for quite a while now.

CLAMOURING FOR TITLES

CARTOON OF A RAT IN AN ACADEMIC GOWN SITTING BEHIND A COMPUTER
Courtesy: members.madasafish.com

Doctor,
Professor,
Engineer,
Chief,
Boss…..
Just titles that denote stature.


But true success
Does not require titles.
True leadership is never synonymous with titles.


Archimedes
Socrates
And the other early philosophers
Had no such titles.


They were never treated like
Kings and queens
Yet their works are the
Very basis on which today’s technology
Has found feet and sprouted leaves.


Bearing testament to the fact that
One does not require a title in order to make a difference
Anyone can obtain a title on a good day
But not all those with titles end up
Doing something worthwhile.


Instead of chasing titles,
Make history without a title,
In so doing,
Others will adopt your name as titles,
Attesting to your greatness
An endorsement of you being worthy of a title.
Live long
Live strong
And become more than just a title.


Titles are nothing special,
Actions that change the world are special,
Become a source of light in the dark,
Lead a people out of hunger,
Become reason in a time of war,
Give birth to seeds that can grow in desert sands.
In aspiring,
Aim at achieving something that changes the
Lives of many for the better and not a select few.


If you touch the lives of just a few,
Only few might remember you.
But in touching the lives of many,
You would have succeeded in touching an entire world
Even an unborn generation.
Then you become immortal even in death,
Don’t be hoodwinked,
Pay no attention to titles.
They are nothing special,
Just words that make ordinary men feel
Special in their shiny shoes and fancy neckties.
Titles, just a collection of alphabets and nothing more.

THE FOREVER WARS OF AFRICA

A CHILD SOLDIER BEING TAUGHT HOW TO USE A WEAPON

Picture Courtesy: homepages.wmich.edu


African history
Has always been mired in
Struggles and fight for freedom
The search for an identity
An ever elusive destiny.


From the African liberation movements,
Came struggles against slavery,
Colonialism
And a host of others.


In those struggles,
There were clear goals
Defined ideologies,
Africa fought towards a specific end,
Freedom,
Liberation
And emancipation of the African
From physical and mental slavery.


Those were the days
When Africa rose up in arms
Cried out for freedom in the shanty towns
Slave markets
Within the bellies of slave ships
And in the corn fields of slave masters.


Those struggles were designed
With African unity in sight,
Towards the breaking of the burgeoning shackles
The chains
And yokes that had been placed around
Africa’s neck.


Those were the days of the freedom fighters,
All who opposed colonialism were branded
Rebels and enemies by the colonial masters,
They foraged in the bushes like animals,
Lay in wait and struck at the heart of the oppressors.


Africans have always been born fighters,
We never cower in shadows
Neither do we abandon a fight
But we’ve always fought for that which was right
And never for wrong
Africans always fought for the good
Of the entire continent and never for themselves.


So how come the continent is bejeweled in
Hotspots and intractable conflicts these days?
Gone are the days of the Liberation movement,
The oppressors have long left the land,
The slave raiders gone with sands of time.


Slavery has now taken on an economic cloak
No longer with guns and ships.
Gone are the days when we exchanged our
Brothers for bottles of booze
Muskets and barrels of gun powder.


Why so many conflicts on the land today?
Who are parties in these wars?
Who are these men in jungle lairs
Spreading terror across the land?
Surely, this cannot be about liberation.
The freedom fighters have long gone,
The gunfight for freedom long won.


Africa’s fight is no longer that with guns,
So why so many guns on the continent?
Deranged men roaming the streets
Raping women and enlisting children
In war calling them child soldiers.
When did children agree to become soldiers?
When did they enlist in this war?


What do you fight for?
Please tell me, what is all the violence for?
The freedom fighters of yesterday showed class,
They had intellect
They fought against
Tyranny
Colonialism
And apartheid
By employing guns interspersed with a persuasive rhetoric.


But you do not fight to govern,
Neither do you fight for the good of a nation,
All you seek is money,
Guns and freedom to inflict terror,
All you seek is a license to rampage,
Run amok, it seems you find thrill in the kill,
Blood brings a smile to your parched lips,
You use rape as a weapon, a tool
But what did these women and girls ever do to you?


Stunning atrocities such as endemic rape in Congo,
You continually sexually assault thousands
Of women and girls all in the name of a struggle,
How can ramming an assault rifle into a woman
And pulling the trigger be a sign of struggle?
You are barbaric,
You lack conscience.


Violence sweeps the continent like an epidemic,
Like some viral pandemic, a strange disease of some sort.
Why wage war against innocent civilians?
Where did all these guns come from?
Who really profits from this dastardly business?
In the end, Africa is the one that suffers.


Blood soaked streets and pavements
Sands painted red crying out injustice
Women sexually assaulted sadistically
Left incontinent for life,
The pride of womanhood in tatters and rags.


A continent almost on the verge of implosion
Dizzying in total confusion.
The fruits of an atrocious rebellion,
Civilians mowed down in millions
With guns and deadly munitions.


Songs of African unity a slowly fading rendition
A chronic condition
A continent flailing about in frenetic fashion
Sporting gaping holes, in search of missing dentition.


Bleeding
Battered and
Bruised
In search of a magical concoction,
A long term solution
To a chronic afflication.


When does unity come?
A continent in search of a forefathers’ vision
When shall we stand as one and shout in unison?
An abundance of child soldiers and casualties
Lives lost, number in the millions
Congo
Somalia
Sudan and others
The forever wars of Africa,
Africa, a continent forever synonymous with gunfire?

WHO HAS SEEN FOOT SOLDIER LAW?

PICTURE OF A FOOT SOLDIER
Courtesy: www.thelittlehencompany.com

Where is rule of law?
When did we agree bend the law?
Why is my nation under siege?
Are we at war?
I can’t help but ask,
I hear foot soldiers on the ground

Foot soldiers
Foot soldiers
Who are these noisy
Crude and brutish wailers?
A hungry bunch of lawbreakers
Motivated only by selfish gain.
Just a cacophonous bunch looking
To score free bread again.

When did we subscribe to foot soldier law?
When did foot soldiers become Ghanaian law?
When did we agree to foot soldier governance?
What is foot soldier law anyway?
Are foot soldiers a basic tenet of Ghanaian law?


Nowadays, thugs and miscreants
Walk the streets in the broad of day
Beating chests for all to give way.
They’ve become law, untouchable
We now do things the foot soldier’s way.


What’s the point of elections anyway?
Just wasting time in long queues
Soiling our fingers with cancerous inks,
Leaving thumb prints on so called ballot papers.


Save the trees,
Spare the ballot papers,
When the last tree dies,
So shall the last man too.
Forgotten so soon paper comes from trees?
Save the trees, to hell with democracy.

Away with your cancerous indelible inks,
Ballot boxes
And election observers,
It will amount to nothing anyway,
The foot soldiers will always be law.


Out with democracy,
Bury rule of law,
To hell with human rights,
Only the weak clamour for justice


Let’s go back to the law of the jungle
Eat or be eaten
Kill or be killed,
Survival of the fittest
Better gird your loins.

I lay before you the tenets of foot soldier law
Muscle and brawn
Smash and grab,
Slash and burn
Act on impulse
Show no remorse
Subscribe to impunity.
No sense of tomorrow,
We live for today,
Intellect is the coward’s cover,
Brute force is power
We enjoy being puppets,
We only dance to the master’s strings.


Welcome to the breakdown of law
The overthrow of commonsense
And era of those living above the law
These are the foot soldier days
Better saddle up and keep abreast with foot soldier law
Welcome to a nation governed by foot soldier law.

NO HONOUR AMONG THIEVES

PICTURE OF A MONARCH’S CROWN
Courtesy: www.hrp.org.uk


Honourable
Yes!!!! Honourable,
They call themselves honourable.


Who is honourable?
Honourable, comes with prestige
Means to be guided by or one who possesses
Strong moral and ethical principles.


Honourable,
Worthy of winning honour
Respect
Recognition
Or glory.
Honourable, how immaculate
Untainted
Reminiscent of snow.


Honourable, a word befitting
A patriot, an altruist
One so selfless yet ambitious,
Visionary,
One of great wisdom
Devoid of greed and malice
A true believer in free thinking
And a fundamental right of freedom.


One whose actions
Bring honour,
To become honourable,
One must live for another and not himself.
Honourable,
To have belief in personal sacrifice
For the good of a people.
Honourable,
To die just so another may live.


Honourable,
To live for the common good,
The good of all.
Honourable,
To lead hungry
Until all are no longer hungry.


Honourable,
Truthful
Honest
And upright.


Honour,
We do not demand it,
We earn it,
Not by our position
Or status in society.
By our actions,
Either honour or dishonour
Shall be bestowed accordingly.


Honourable,
A fancy Ghanaian word,
For one elected into parliament.


When did winning an election bring honour?
When did occupying a position demand
One be bestowed the title honourable?


Honour comes with action
Not position.
Winning an election does not bring honour,
It brings responsibility
Duty,
Service to a people.


Honourable,
A word so tainted.
They ride in cars,
Wear fancy suits,
Jet off in planes to events,
Live like kings and demand the tag honourable,
If this is how one becomes honourable,
If doing this brings one honour,
Then I prefer dishonour.
I see only a few good men amongst you,
Just a few worthy of honour
Yet all of you bear the title “HONOURABLE”.


You revel in
Fancy celebrations,
Award ceremonies,
And end of service awards
While the common man on the street
Fails to make ends meet.


The mother in the market,
Cannot give her children three square meals
Let alone manage a day’s meal for herself.
Consumers are saddled with mountains in tariffs,
While the nation doles out huge sums for
Your upkeep because you won an election,
You are in parliament,
You are the mouthpiece of a people.


What have you done as a mouthpiece of the people?
Why should you prance around in regalia
While the people who put you there suffer?
Is this true service?
When did being a servant dictate that you
Live like a king?
When did the servant become king?


Honourable
Oh honourable,
How dishonourable,
I find no honour amongst you,
You have usurped the place of true honour.


Hang your heads in shame,
Go on your knees and beg forgiveness,
Come down from your perch,
Embrace dishonour,
For your actions have been untoward,
Far from honourable.
You do not embody that which is honourable,
Your purported honour is just a uniform,
True honour is that which flows through the veins,
Not a cloak that one puts on.
Most of you are dishonourable,
Just a selfish dishonest and greedy bunch.
How can greed and selfishness demand honour?