Opinions of Monday, 1 December 2014

Columnist: Mohammed, Sumaila

The Alphabetical Torture of The Ghanaian

Topsy-turvy to the idyll of the citizenry of some countries, the life of the aboriginal Ghanaian is daily embroiled in A-anger, accidents, alas, and anarchy at its acme.

Ghana, undeniably, is benedicted with assorted resources of enviable heights, human and material. Yet the unequivocal display of sheer lack of state management prowess and/or stratagem and wanton wasting of resources by the various crop of our leaders has only succeeded in churning plague from this blessedness.

With successive leaders seeing their offices only as Aladdin’s cave, backed by gallant display of faulty tactics to erase poverty and embrace progress, the ordinary Ghanaian is utterly deprived of what must have been basic needs of life even at this current graying age of 57. Hence the sorry story without glory but worry of the Ghanaian is brim-filled with B- bawl, backwardness and bribery, oft resulting in C- corruption, child labor and crud. People shylessly and openly seek bribes before rendering the very services they are salaried for. Branded thievery.

There is daily terrorism by D-diseases like cholera which name shames us, despair, depression and dotting lust for wealth by any official- fair or foul. Daily exploitation of the meek and feeble only pluses to the E-enigma with embezzlement and siphoning of public purse leading the way.

In effect, there is constant F- frustration, feud, fraud, flaming inflation and forlornness of the masses beyond measure sometimes leading to G-gory skirmishes and gaucherie at baseless-based provocations. Meanwhile, the negligible few innards of the political abomasums hee-haw because they have amassed wealth âgogo to secure their own lives and the lives of their kiths and kin at large leaving the ordinary with H – horrible roads to ply, hunger, hoots and perhaps hanging at worst to rule the headlines of our lives. There is growing I- ire, irk, illiteracy, insecurity, injustice, gross ignorance and gross immigration of our interned brutes and brains in search for greener pastures elsewhere. A lot of Ghanaians are walking interred and a lot more walking moped.

On one hand, a must- be- looked- at our educational system keeps churning out scores of graduates who become J-jobless and jobbery when given the opportunity. Their sense of patriotism nailed and crucified by their forlornness. Shambolic it may seem though, yet we cannot hide from the mournful axiom that, K- kwashiorkor and kleptomania still hang on to the collective fiber of our honor as a country in this 21st century albeit we L-lament it daily. M-malnutrition, malfeasance, malice, malaria, maelstrom et al are virtually altering the gene of the Ghanaian.

Bah!!

Oodles of the masses are seemingly utterly disjointed from the public circuit of our collective fortune as they constantly get a bite of the bullet in lieu the public cake simply because they have naught kiths or kin in the political upstairs. Of course the ugly game of N-nepotism is ever present. Nick-named ‘who knows you’ to keep it entrenched. Preposterous!

On top, being centered by extreme P- penury, pique, pollution, and power fluctuation and poor sanitation, triggers myriads of calls on the frontiers for salvation which alas, constantly gets pooh-poohed. These ‘get rich or die trying’ lords of our land simply insulate themselves against the psittacoses wailings of the very people who employ them to those offices immediately they ascend. Subsequently, those who cannot dree further perish while these cavalier leaders continue their siphoning exercise to fill their stomachs singing ‘no mercy for the cripple’. Yet with labored breaths, we are coerced to trek along.

Ama Ghana is de facto Q-qualming and quaking. The ancestors too continuously churn in their graves aidlessly perhaps quizzing what must be ailing the very country they invested blood in to declare ‘free forever’. A portion of the jobless chunk are quickly employed by the Tasmanian devil’s Siamese twins R- robbery and rape carrying our plight further down the drain.

The two mainstream political schisms, each vying for the thumb but share common bedevilled vision- loot and share, have bartered the political baton for decades but none able to walk their talks to subtract from our woes and annihilate the enigma of the Ghanaian folk. So, the indigenous keep S-swirling, starving and staging demonstrations to catapult their grievances on wielded placards, strikes. Children, the later leaders and hope of every nation, are the worst hit with T-trafficking, trauma and tremor thieving their happiness and naturally endowed abilities.

What’s more? U-unaccountability endorses the safe exit of these heartless hearted leaders, annexing our plight and carrying it beyond solvency and rendering aggrieved on- lookers V-voiceless and vile. Life expectancy drops causing sirens of daily W-wailings of the vulnerable like the X-xenopus does. On the media, is daily Y-yattering while the country is yawed defencelessly. The tale of the Ghanaian keeps aggravating from grass to gravel, epithet to inferno by the day and can only be best described as a Z-zigzag stressful voyage.

One may quiz whether the hearts of our lords have hearts, and their minds have minds mapping their mercilessness, and greed and blurred vision.

Obviously, the life of the 21st century Ghanaian is no better than that of our ancestors of the yore days or the far distant yester years. With our leaders the sole cause of our abyss, the reasons for their celebration have been defeated by their own hands and are currently occupying the portion of our minds originally apportioned and reserved for cannibals, hardened criminals, witches, and maybe homosexuals at length till posterity casts the cowries of its judgment.

For as it stands, it looks nothing can cajole our leaders to have mercy on us. Therefore, the ordinary will continuously be served the bullet instead of the cake until divine succor descends on the waif and garib children of our motherland Ghana. Lord have mercy and purge this scourge for us.

The writer, Sumaila Mohammed is a teacher at St. Patrick’s R/C J.H.S in Atebubu. sumailamhmmd@gmail.com. cell: 0246640183, 0202146667