A few weeks before the 2012 elections, Dr Afari Gyan, as chair of the Electoral Commission, met with members of the Editors Forum at the International Press Centre. It was the first time I was seeing Dr Afari Gyan laugh.
For a man whose image on my mind was that of a public officer constantly under siege, I was absolutely delighted that anything could tickle him so! He was enjoying every moment of the exchanges with the press.
Then suddenly his visage changed. In his raised right hand was a copy of the voters register. What he was drawing attention to was the presence of “too many minors on the register”. Region by region, page after page, pictures of obvious minors stared at us.
The picture on Afari Gyan’s face said many words. He was not only angry. He was not only sad: his face was a picture of troubled emotions. I was looking at an alarmed public officer doing advocacy, trying to say something that had battled his conscience for years, not as EC chair, but as a patriot who feared for the destiny of a nation in the hands of unscrupulous, rapacious, dishonest politicians – men and women frantically and desperately chasing the title, ‘Honourable’, knowing how much that title is worth in a society where the citizens worship “powerful people”; men and women who know that the most profitable business, occupation and profession in Africa today is to be a minister, an MP or government functionary – even a spokesperson.
How did it become possible that any registration official with conscience could go ahead to allow such minors to register? Did I say “minors”? No, these were no minors: they were children, some of whom could not have been old enough to get past JHS1.
But what could (or can) any EC officer or anybody, for that matter, do under our constitutional circumstances? According to our laws, anybody who has a problem with the registration process is supposed to keep mum, watch the minor or foreigner register, then put his/her objection in writing and allow investigation to go on. Invariably, no name ever gets removed from the register on account of an objector’s protest.
Fact is, it gets too difficult to prove somebody’s age – without a birth certificate. And I fear that from the desperation that shows in the eyes and nostrils of our politicians whenever such matters come up, a time is coming when even a suckling child can register to vote in Ghana!
Why have I gone on rambling like this? It is NPP Bawumiah’s press conference about the bloated voters register. His revelations are terrifying. Like the recent West African Examination Council (WAEC) mass exam paper leak, it is telling us one thing: we have become a nation of people who do not mind being reputed for dishonest gain.
I sympathise with Bawumiah’s concern. The question, however, is: what can anybody do about it? Given the Ghanaian character, I can predict that even if the E.C. agrees to do a new register, it will not be free of minors and foreigners. Politicians will push minors and foreigners into the queues, ready to go to court if anybody objects.
All because we must win election to control access to the state purse! The juiciest is the presidential election. And why not, when the winner will take all – board appointments, ambassadorial appointments, political CEOs, Council of State… There is nothing our presidents cannot do, including (these days) the power to change a man into a woman!
Our presidents can bring back Richard Anane into office after the Commission on Human Rights Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) probe – caring little about its impact on the youth. The law cleared Anane, but the moral sentence lives on in the minds of young persons.
Our president can decide to go to Italy with Akua Donkor – caring little about workers’ salaries in arrears, unpaid capitation grant and a struggling National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS).
That’s power.
A plea to Ethiopian government through Ethiopian Airlines
It feels proud to be an African when one travels with Ethiopian Airlines. For a country associated, from the late part of the 20th century, with poverty and a seemingly inborn inability to manage its own affairs, this airline is a miracle.
Life at Addis Ababa airport, however, is not the same.
Why should my body and my luggage be frisked and scanned twice at the same airport – including removing my shoes and belt, twice?
But that is a small inconvenience, compared with the frustration one is subjected to by the immigration process. I am writing as one who has been three times a victim. My latest experience was only a week ago, when I had to stay overnight to connect a flight to Accra.
Our flight unfortunately landed after two others. I was about the 300th passenger in the queue and we were being served by four immigration officers, one of whom was working on the queue for Ethiopian citizens. At the snail’s pace the queue moved, I was on my feet for three hours – from 9 p.m. to midnight!
The country’s Bole International Airport handles 150 flights a day, a lot by Ghanaian standards. But that should not be the reason why a passenger who is already weary after a six-hour flight (often twice that) should endure such punishment. Heathrow Airport handles 1,400 flights a day. To reduce the anticipated strain and stress, they have built other terminals.
<<Print>>