Is it possible to identify the party someone belongs to by merely looking at the person’s haircut?
Even the design of the moustache indicated one’s political preference in the good old days when the whiteman left the shores of Ghana because the blackman said he was capable of handling his own affairs.
These days, there are no political hairdos and everybody’s head is total sakora, otherwise known as ‘sweat’.
Sometime ago we called it Sahara Desert. Professor Mills belongs partly to the old school and the newer generation and sometimes spots a near back-sweat against a tempered Tokyo Joe.
Nana Akuffo-Addo often goes populist with a global sweat - very trendy if you ask me.
Check out Dr Kwesi Nduom and you are close to Osagyefo. The Osagyefo’s hair-style was one in a million; it distinguished the man from his fellow mortals.
The popular and charismatic politician could be identified from miles away without binoculars. He cut a very special figure.
Those were the days politics began in Ghana. Sadly it began violently because the blackman agreed with the whiteman but disagreed with his fellow blackman. How tragic!
Politics in Ghana has lost, for the better, that fervour, the bite and hike that charged the political atmosphere into a high voltage mine-field in the days following the attainment of independence.
The fight was no longer the blackman against his long-nosed counterpart. It was between the blackman and his fellow broad-nosed brother.
They were literally at each other’s throat. They stabbed one another in the back. Politics became jungle warfare requiring guerrilla tactics and battles of attrition.
The nationalist struggle that wrought the change in the political fortunes of the Gold Coast was itself a long battle that ended in the declaration of positive action at the behest of Dr Nkrumah and the emergence of the Big Six, the political bigwigs that headed the United Gold Coast Convention and ended up in prison for instigating the riots.
Out of the Big Six emerged the lone figure – Dr Kwame Nkrumah – who felt disillusioned by the slow pace of the struggle and launched the CPP to take the political crusade to another dimension.
He has still not been forgiven for breaking ranks with his compatriots and setting a gruelling pace the others found impossible to match.
In those days, there were formidable political wings; men armed to the teeth, baring fangs at their political adversaries.
When one party formed the Action Troopers, another founded the Action Groupers, ending up in running battles. When each encountered a political foe, blood flowed freely.
Politics easily fell into a variety of branding and re-branding, engineering and re-engineering.
There were political haircuts that heralded the era of the Tokyo Joes.
The Tokyo Joe, better known as Topio Joe was a fashionable hairdo at the time and it identified the so-called political believers from their “conservative and reactionary” counterparts.
One man whose influence was really felt was Dr Nkrumah, because of the passion and zeal he used to fire the imagination of the ordinary Ghanaian into envisioning a future of a politically and economically emancipated Ghana. Not only Ghana, but Africa.
Ghana’s independence was supposed to be meaningless unless it was linked with Africa’s total liberation.
Nkrumah was one likeable fellow from all that we read and heard about the man.
He was handsome and comely and bore the trademark of the charismatic, easily charming his listeners, giving them hope of a prosperous Ghana because the blackman was indeed capable of handling his own affairs.
Politics is a religion. And those who had political faith were the likes of Krobo Edusei, a man who shed tears when he spoke eloquently of the marvels of Dr Kwame Nkrumah.
Once, he allegedly got carried away and called the Osagyefo a “political bulldog” who could conquer all his political opponents.
Of course, some of Nkrumah’s followers were sycophants and that was only natural.
Others betrayed him. Even Jesus Christ was betrayed by someone very close to him; how much less a mere mortal like the Osagyefo.
The mystery, however, is that there are people who still believe that Nkrumah never dies.
At least, his thoughts, the fond memories people have of him linger on. Long live his memory.
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