Entering the system with mixed feelings
By Tehtey
A serious traveller sets out at dawn. That was what I did. Anybody would have done that if he were entering the inscrutable socio-economic system of Ghana for the first time.
Back in the town of my ancestry, they say there are ethereal beings bobbing ceaselessly on the horizon where the sky meets the sea. If one looks carefully enough, one is bound to see them - it matters not whether one hasn't the third eye like Lobsang Rampa. It is nearly the same with this system I was entering. You do not have to squint too far even with your earthly pair of eyes to see mischievous goblins playing tricks with you, in every socio-economic way.
Just consider the fact that I had to wait almost three hours in a queue before the growling Tata bus (called City Line by everybody) appeared. The bus conductor then exhibited every behaviour to make us know that he was the lord on the people's bus.
It was a journey most memorable, however. If it chalked premonitions in the air, it welled up good omens only. There was this Kwamena Fanti on the bus. He had hardly got on the bus than he had everybody roaring with laughter with jokes upon jokes and short-long stories like that of the man and the hyena.
This hungry hyena came upon this poor man in the forest. A man, even if poor, could make a hyena a good meal, couldn't it? There was a chase. If the man was rich in nothing at all, it was not in luck. He found a good tall tree which he quickly climbed. The hungry hyena had no choice but to wait for his meal at the bottom of the tree. Presently, sleep got the better of both the hunter and the hunted. They slept. A wicked witch saw her chance to practise her craft. She pushed the poor man from his citadel right onto the delicate nose of the hyena. For the weight of a man to crash onto a hyena's nose
The hyena took to flight as did the poor man. Both were thoroughly shaken. Kwamena Fanti however insisted that one was more shaken than the other. 'Which of the two was more shaken?' was the question he threw to the travellers.
I enjoyed the journey. Packed as we were like canned slices of mackerel, standing as I was (having given my seat to LAGOS the young woman with her baby strapped to her back), we were one big happy family of Ghanaians. We laughed. We teased (Kwamena Fanti, the instant stand- up comedian). The police sergeant who stood at the back of the bus was always at the receiving end.
These days, it is almost always like this. The unity and zest for life which seems to be eluding the nation, is found on moving vehicles. A native drug peddler or a travelling prophet only had to join a group of travellers to unite them with stories, riddles and songs.
I reached my destination. May it be God's will that I live two more years. Here, I will render my national service for the greater progress of my fatherland Ghana.
Daydreams? Still, AMEN.
…
A first concern national serviceman is where to lay his head. In most urban and semi-urban areas, accom- modation is a classified problem. Land- lords ask for anything above twenty thousand cedis in advance for a modest single room. This, of course, almost equals the normal net wage of many workers.
Second-cycle institutions in the country used to guarantee ready accommodation; a bungalow complete in many instances with cushiony furniture, cookers and refrigerators. These days, such VIP treatment no more awaits the serviceman in these institutions.
In fortunate circumstances, where the serviceman is posted to a 'respectable' establishment (COCOBOD is the obvious example even with the World Bank- induced restructure) he may enjoy the respectable conditions drawn up for senior officers if he is one of them. He is then put up in a cosy hotel for any length. of time not exceeding three months. In unfortunate circumstances where the serviceman is posted to an accursed civil servant establishment, he has to fend for himself.
He parasitises on acquaintances no matter how little known, for as long as he fails to get a room for himself. The friend and I happened to be posted to this town illustrated the two situations cited here. As to who is enjoying the genial atmosphere of a hotel is supposed to be a cat in the bag.
It took me only a few days in the system to say this: that I now know what is happening in Ghana. That in Ghana here, even with the talk of food in the system, goods in the system, people have to strictly eat twice a day. A brunch and a supper. In the very first hours of attaining independence in my national service, I was a buffoon enough to go in for break- fast (snacks to be precise) at nine. It claimed 30 cedis. By one in the afternoon, I just had to eat. When I did, another 30 cedis dropped out of my pocket. A fairly square meal of two fist-sized kenkey balls and half a dozen thumb-sized fried fish for supper squeezed another 30 for that first day.
Having learnt about brunch, I could skim at least 20 cedis off my daily spendings. I should hasten to add that the statistics released above was only within a genuinely frugal atmosphere of living. But hell, what if I cook my own meals? Sure. That I will do. But you do not cook your own meals when you are bedding on somebody's verandah with mosquitoes conducting concerts round your ears (and the cat is out of the bag, isn't it?).
I also know about things that go on at the working places. As I write here at my desk, it is almost nine-thirty in the morning. It is long past the eight-thirty when work is supposed to begin in earnest. Only half of the workers are here, excluding the boss himself. They are gathered on the porch talking away their worries. I do have worries too. Worries such as how to pay mother's loan of two thousand cedis used as illustrated below:
| EXPENDITURE I | Cedis |
| 1. Hair pomade (Kurl-out) | 250.00 |
| 2. Mirror (one used at school, broken) | 80.00 |
| 3. One packet Nelson safety razor blades | 50.00 |
| 4. One plastic bucket | 360.00 |
| 5. One bowl of gari | 50.00 |
| 6. Two margarine tins of granulated sugar | 120.00 |
| 7. A dozen Ideal milk tins of total | 360.00 |
| 8. A dozen sardine tins 420.00 | |
| Total | 1690.00 |
The thought of burying myself deeper in debt made me worry about how I misspent the ten thousand cedis God sent me from the blue. I was kicking myself up until I drew up Expenditure II which faithfully illustrated how I spent that God- sent 'ten tower'.
| EXPENDITURE II | Cedis |
| 1. A solar calculator for the service job | 1,550.00 |
| 2. Two sets of brand new second-hand dresses (ie. two pairs of corduroy trousers and two shirts) | 1,000.00 |
| 3. Aid for brothers in school | 1,500.00 |
| 4. Aid for others | 1,000.00 |
| 5. Bag for my service | 1,000.00 |
| 6. Petty items like: a) Two underwear | 240.00 |
| b) Two pairs of socks for my feet | 200.00 |
| c) Two handkerchiefs | 200.00 |
| 7. Repairs a) Giving my old shoe a new heel | 250.00 |
| b) Repairing my old electric stove | 100.00 |
| Total: | 7040.00 |
So out of the God-sent ten thousand, there was a balance of a miserable 2,960. There were other expenses I couldn't remember, like how much I spent on that new cup, etc. The essential point is that the rest went into feeding and that now I am thinking of a loan.
I do have worries like everybody in this office. But writing is my way of talking them away. So I am writing.
By twelve noon, we shall desert this office (I to the Post Office to post this article). We shall not be in till 2.00pm. Then by 5.00pm if not 4.00pm, we will call it a day. Of course the official closing time is 5.30pm, but who cares for official times?
If you are in that business the typist is in, selling towels, slippers, handkerchiefs, anything she could order from the capital- ist UAC, even bamboo cups, you will know the value of stealing time. You will also know if you are in the writing business.
I know of other things that go on in this system. But it isn't everything one can safely talk about, is it? There is that ancestral warning that the mouth shifts to the back of the head if one talks about awful things he is not supposed to talk about. Such as bri... and smu... Ei! Tehtey! May God help me. Certainly he will.
Our elders point to the grass and teach us the quintessence of survival. Bend with the wind, sway with the storm. If I do not live but die like the good old man behind where I stay, what will become of my national service? The funeral expenses is yet another burden on some poor Ghanaians, isn't it? So I will bend with the wind and sway with the storm and of course survive.
