WHO CARES ABOUT ANTHRAX WHEN THERE IS A BY-ELECTION TO WIN?

Dear Nyaaba,

You must know by now there are two versions of the truth, at least ,in Nkrumahland and so if one is confronted with the matter of the “derobed” legislator, depending on the lenses you wear, he is either the victim of a carefully orchestrated witch-hunt or a scoundrel with dual loyalties to two countries.

However one must take note that the Supreme Court is the ultimate arbiter, so if it says the Earth is flat again, so shall it remain until we come around to the truth of its roundness.

Nyaaba, on account of his removal from the legislature, a seat became vacant and I hear everybody that matters has moved home and pitched camp in said constituency. Curiously though, the gentleman is in the fray, to win, the second time, the mandate and trust of the people of his constituency.

If he were to succeed, it would be an indictment on the governing party especially that considerable industry has allegedly been put to use to see the back of the former MP.

Nyaaba, while the pomp is in full throttle in preparation for the by-election, naturally attracting the best of our gossip community, anthrax is laying livestock to waste in my neck of the woods, people are also becoming increasingly exposed to the killer disease.

All that notwithstanding, there’s no proof that government has heard let alone is concerned about the anthrax outbreak. Then again why is that surprising, those that matter have no business with the business of husbanding animals, the closest they they get to it is when they have to shovel it into their enlightenment mouths.

And I decided I will not be quiet about it.

Your vexed descendant

The Honourrebel Siriguboy

VAMPIRE BANQUET

I woke to a clan of fanged vampires

Dripping with fresh blood from their gory sets of 32

Entrails shred in frenzy

The carcass an ailing heifer,

What a clan of illiterate literates

Sighted blind

Soulless beings

Heartless creatures

How can they know shame?

Lost in servile obedience to their macabre cravings

They descend with glee to the market place

Where alas a princess has disemboweled herself

Town-criers hoarse from shouting from the rooftops

Stampede in full show, hands, nostrils and eyes soaked

While she lives still, the heifer

And her failing voice audible to the ‘heartful’ bystander

What am I to do?

Should I go back to sleep and continue to dream?

Or am I actually seeing it happen and to sleep I should refuge seek

What is what?

It is here as it is everywhere, the creatures that fill the earth have a lust for gore, for scandal, for blood

Some say the wise provide it and reap of it its fruits

Soiled in fetid effluents, blood and serum and phlegm and saliva

But that is what they, we relish

Sadly!

WITH A BROKEN VOICE @Akawiireyire

Today my song is different

But its refrain consistent

I come aloft a ballad

But my asks are but from a heart sad

My lips have gone numb from prayer

And from supplication

Yet my plight rests unabated

Once I stood unknowing

Of the blight that has us all enveloped

Today I can claim no ignorance such

As it is to me so stark

Man has chosen to join the ranks of beasts

And by day is fast outdoing them

We have left mores for gore

Scruples for the dubious

Faith dictates for the merely base

And life for death

Even before we die

Chastity has gone and in its place vanity reigns supreme

Loyalty has gone lost in voyage and treachery has come home to stay

Where once a person was known for their virtue

Today such man is applauded for their vice.

Where once song announced the feats of the brave and courageous

Today same greets bandit and brigand

Whether their tool of choice be pen or lip

On peril’s path we tread,

Sure as Hades to arrive at the undying inferno

I am emissary of my conscience

No man sends me forth

Glory I give to God for making my inner voice so shrill and so resolute

Defying the din of hedonism, rising above the chorus of self-adulation

Ever piercing to the contrite of heart, ever clear to the humble pilgrim

Harken all ye pilgrims, prostrate we must come

Before Our Father on high, in humble admission

That we have fallen short, in our thoughts and our deeds

Come ye all, together we ask of our eminent intercessor, a word on our behalf.

St. Jude, please do not relent, we are ever in your debt

Oh how I wished I could divine that this time will be our last

But that will surely amount to a wish, a wisp of fate, sure to be blown away by the hurricane of our vanity.

KNOWN BY ALL, ADMITTED BY NONE.

Dear St Jude,

I have always wondered about this business called politics.

I have wondered why so many clamour, in our times, to represent us, to serve us.

Above all, I wonder why they are at each other’s throats to get on the bill.

Every four years, Ghanaians are, by our Constitution, required to elect the government. Sometimes we change them and other times, we confirm them to continue. Or do we?

St Jude, Ghana’s politics is anything but democratic, and I can explain, if you doubt my assertion.

To answer this question I will start by stating that an election should be free and fair and by this assertion I mean that voters should indeed exercise their franchise free from influence and from coercion. If that be the case, then the prevailing conditions where it is known by all and admitted by none that voters are influenced goes contrary to what ought to be the case.

St Jude, our votes, are in the majority, secured by inducement. Yes. This inducement is not always a tangible, like in the form of cash or gifts but can also be in the form of promises, express or implicit. Or even speculative.  Inducement can also be that intangible pull of ethnic considerations, religious calculations or simple sectional interest. What that means is that, next-to-no-voter goes into the booth informed only by merit and proven integrity if at all. In this fraught ecosystem are Christians as well as other people of other faiths, yet there is no discernible evidence that our faiths have a bearing on the process.

Soon, churchgoers will have to suffer the presence of politicians on their campaign trails. They will have to sit in the houses of God and listen to candidates speak a lot of untruths. They will sit and behold their church leaders extol the fictional virtues of persons whose dubious means are in no doubt. They may even have to clap for said persons, all the while, sitting in the house of God. This process will repeat itself with the visit of each politician and we the congregation will have to go along. These politicians, in some cases will be hosted by our leaders in plush quarters, sometimes at the cost of the church, while the average parishioner may live, worship and die without the privilege of ever being invited into those ‘hallowed’ places. Oh I forget, many of us will be asked to leave our seats for these ‘VIPs’. St Jude, such has been the practice and I see no reason to hope that it will change anytime soon.

The above notwithstanding, I am able to report that some Christians have taken a stance, that is by not engaging in active politics, their reason being that ‘politics is a dirty game’. Granted, but it is a necessary evil and so to scurry away at the mention of politics is a grievous dereliction of duty, civic and religious. Of this, many are guilty and I too stand indicted, only now waking up to that imperative of engaging actively in the selection of our representatives and in holding them to account once they are elected. I know this will meet with disapproval from some quarters but I quaver not. Our Bishops have already shown the example and we must follow suit. And when we do so we must keep in mind that we enter politics, yes as individuals but also as known Christians. This fact behooves us comport ourselves in a manner reflective of our faith. We cannot exfoliate ourselves of our Christian credentials when we go into the political arena, in fact we should be prouder still of our faith and while so doing, we should meticulously measure our actions and statements by our faith precepts. St Jude, I know this is no new news but it is necessary that it be rehashed because there is hardly precedent of Christian political comportment, thorough comportment. I make the difference because there is the perfunctory observance of faith duty and there is the thorough application, by one, of faith precepts in their every waking minute.

As election year comes hither, let us my brother and my sister, resolve to inform, at the very least, our choices by our faith, making sure to select our choices on the basis of more honourable considerations, and where we stand in doubt of what is right, we make our choices based on Christ’s example.

THE ELOQUENT ACT OF A LITTLE BOY

Dear St Jude,

Earlier this week, as I was returning from visiting a good friend, at a traffic light, I was approached by a boy. He cannot be 12, must be between 9 and 11, if my time-tested ability to properly gauge age is to be relied on. He had in his hand a few sachets of cotton buds and politely drew my attention to his wares, for that’s what they were, and told me ‘Ghs 2.00 each’.

I was actually in need of cotton-buds and had earlier resolved to get a pack, though I am told it is not exactly good for our ear-drums. I looked through my wallet and discovered I had a cedi coin and some other money, in large bills. HIs hopes were dashed when I poured out my wallet to reveal the lone coin. I knew he could not possibly have change for a Ghs 200 note and also that there wasn’t time for him to go get change. I was at a traffic light, waiting for the green. He looked visibly disappointed, even crestfallen. I witnessed his expectant bright eyes lose their lustre and proceed to exhibit a look of sorrow. I briefly considered giving him all Ghs 200 but promptly abandoned the idea. My economy cannot afford such ‘suicidal generosity’.

St Jude, they boy was not alone in disappointment, I too was. First for not being able to get the buds and secondly, and most importantly, because I could not buy they young man’s merchandise, thus, most probably, permitting him buy himself a meal that morning. I took my eyes away from his piercing gaze, for reasons I cannot now proffer.

The minute felt like an hour but it was finally broken by the tender voice of the boy. He said to bring the Ghs 1.00 cedi, ‘bring the one cedi, it’s okay, you can have the buds’. When I mustered the courage to look into his eyes, I could feel a certain strength, a certain fellow-feeling, a certain love even, from the boy, he wanted me to have it, at half its price. For a brief moment I most ungraciously thought that he was only doing that to get money for himself. For another fleeting moment I even managed to think that Ghs1.00 was the actual price and that he had only mentioned the earlier price to ‘get more’ from me.

St Jude, I became ashamed of my thoughts for when I looked up, into his eyes, what I beheld was not desperation, for money or satisfaction, from getting the right price after all, but a courageous act of generosity.

I cannot stop thinking about him.

I cannot forget his eyes.

I cannot forget the strength in his stoic gaze.

Dear sister, dear brother, I learnt a lot from this boy and I wish to share the lessons with you.

Many times we think we can only share if we have enough and a little extra. When we are called upon to give a helping hand, we first think about what we need, what to keep as reserve, then what we should put aside for eventualities before we then think about the needs of the other person. This boy does not suffer that ailment, if you ask me. He only saw a person, in some need of his wares and then proceeded to give it to me without much thought.

St Jude, at other times, when we are faced with doing an act of kindness, many of us find ourselves doing an audit of that person’s standing in ‘our books’, have they ever been nice to  us or do they stand to be useful to us in the future? In sum, we treat kindness as an investment, giving only when we surmise we can benefit from the recipient at a later date. This boy is not of that mould. He most probably will never see me again in this lifetime and even if he does, I may not recognise him, yet he gave, freely, from his little. Take note, not from his plenty.

This world, I have said many times, has more than enough for us all, and some change but what do we see? Each of us is piling up wealth and property, far beyond our needs, while, in the process, meeting and trampling on others who need just a little to survive. How we assuage our consciences is a matter that beats my imagination, but then again I may just be too optimistic, thinking we all have a conscience.

St Jude, there was a time it was much easier to believe that this world is populated by humans, driven by humanity. Today, the earth’s inhabitants have, it appears, morphed into a different species, driven by an insatiable lust, primal need even, for temporal belongings. I repeat today, that I do not abhor comfort or industry. I do not begrudge planning for and securing the futures of our offspring, no. What I am daring to posit is that we can do all of that while caring for and making allowance for our neighbour. All I am saying is let us put ‘the humanity’ back into the human.

Today, the world can count many billionaires, reportedly, 2023 will yield a handful of ‘trillionaires, and it appears millionaires are a dime a dozen but we have billions of people who are literally scraping a living, how can that be right? How do we all go to sleep when we know it is in our capacity to better another person’s lot and that we have refused to do so? We should all learn from the small boy at the traffic light. You may thinking I am ‘over-milking’ the incident but that does not move me one bit. I know what I saw. I know what I felt. I know what I continue to feel. What that boy did will remain with me for the rest of my days and I pray we each take a page from his book.

Dear St Jude, many are our woes, plentiful are our challenges and multiple are our failings but they all can begin to improve if we all start with reaching out to each other, giving a helping hand, loving our neighbour as ourselves. Continue to intercede for us so we find our way back to God our Father.

@Honourrebel Siriguboy

“SORGHUM AND TOM-BROWN”!

Dear St Jude,

While I cannot truthfully say that I grew up on the sorghum provided by the Catholic Relief Services, my childhood narrative, if bereft of such a detail, will amount to a falsehood. Sorghum and ‘tom brown’ were regularly served us in Primary School and for some among us, it was the most consistent sustenance. Every time we meet, these days, at social functions, we happily reminisce those days, and tease each other as to our preferences then.

I also know of some people who would have, but for the used clothing provided by same CRS, wondered about in their ‘birthday suits’.

St Jude, I came about at the tail-end of the 60s and so effectively grew up in the 70s and times were hard, at least that’s what I have come to know. Many families laboured to subsist and by the 80s, nature itself joined in the conspiracy to make lives miserable, by the occurrence of a long drought and the related matters of bush-burning and scarcity of food. Some say, it is these allied phenomena that formed the rationalisation of the now infamous military interventions in governance, which themselves bred their own array of mishaps and faux-pas.

You must be wondering why I am conducting this circuitous tour of times, unpleasant times past. It is because I intend to highlight the role played by our church in those dire times. To my knowledge, our church through the CRS and probably MIVA, Caritas and other organisations, rose to the challenges of the time and helped support not only the church but its members. The Catholic Church it can be said, was socially conscious and socially responsible. To many it was a refuge in many ways but most notably in the arena of food and shelter and health and education, to mention but a few. Little doubt the church occupied pride of place in our individual and collective lives. It is important to concede that I do not know if this was true for all parts of the country but it certainly was the case in the upper reaches of this country. What then has become of our Holy Roman Catholic Church in these times? Let me hasten to add that by our church I do not mean its clergy, if anything at all, the onus lies more on the lay membership who are not only more numerous but particularly more advantaged to take the relevant initiatives.

St Jude, a while ago I mentioned the pride I felt when I heard on the news circa 1988, that a Catholic lawyer was president of the Ghana Bar Association. Then a member of the National Team of the Young Christian Students Movement (YCS), instructively with the methodology of ‘see’, ‘judge’, ‘act’, ‘reflect’ and ‘act again’, it heartened me that this gentleman, reportedly a product of YCS, would lead the country’s lawyers in a Christian and constructive engagement with the rulers of this country in a bid to surmount our many challenges. You will also recall that it was routine, in those days, for our Catholic Bishops; Conference after their annual meetings to pay a courtesy call on the Christianborg Castle, then seat of government, reportedly to hold discussions with the head of state and his inner circle. The communiques that followed were honest, constructively critical and unanimously well-respected. For me, growing up, this entente between church and state, constituted an assurance that nothing was going to go awry and that governance was being conducted according to precepts or at least that government was being constantly monitored, critiqued and advised. The same cannot be said today, methinks.

St Jude, too often one hears proclamations like ‘I do not do politics’, ‘politics is a dirty game’, from many people, Christians included. What that means is that too many well-formed people are staying out of the business of governing the country and its people, leaving it to a few, with doubtful, if even in perception, ethics, morals and principles. How can we then rationally hope to achieve a government that is solely focused on the welfare of the citizens and the security of the nation while being totally accountable to same? The time to assess its propriety is long gone, we must, as Christians realise that it is our duty to be concerned with and involved in how we are governed. We must dig our heads out of the proverbial sand and rise up to the occasion. Social activism must be revived, guided and promoted. It must be taught our children, by deed and word. Needless to say, such activism must be morally upright and geared at the common good and welfare of the citizenry.

It is easier to be individualistic and to be concerned with only self. To care for and work for the general good requires strength and humility, bravery and the fear of God, it is arduous and sometimes thankless but it is Godly.  As a community, we cannot leave it to happenstance, it must be deliberate. Curiously we refer to our church as ‘the mother church’ and our country as our ‘motherland’, so let us begin now to treat them as the mothers they are. No one should require tuition on how to treat their mother but it appears we do. I shall not condemn us except to say that we have failed at the most basic of responsibilities, love of and care for mother.

St Jude, we have become a church that appears to be bent on becoming more insular, at best, or uncaring, at worst. Addiction is decimating the youth and we only moan, mores have been jettisoned and we only offer the perfunctory lament, marriages are disintegrating at an alarming rate and we greet same with indifference, crime has become normalized and we almost glorify same. Our country is in the throes of untold hardships yet we sit on our hands, our educational sector is facing major challenges and we only but shrug, our environment is being raped and laid to waste and we only organize workshops. Our lethargy is lethal, our indifference is defeatist, and our abandon is fatalistic.

St Jude, intercede for us so we begin again to live, not simply exist, to take action and not revel in inaction. As a church we have been known to set the pace, let us pick up the pieces and begin anew to set the agenda and maybe even dictate the tempo.

The Honourrebel Siriguboy