DISPATCHES FROM NAIROBI-MOSHA(1 in Swahili)

Chineke himself might not have gotten over Achebe's work  

Nairobi has its verve; its energy and flow. One has to be sentient enough to feel it. This is the East of Africa. Coming form the West of Africa my mind has always tried to understand this city I have now visited at least close to a dozen times. The Kenyatta Airport always seems to exude some confounding serenity. I do not know if I must ascribe it to the times I get into that city: mostly dawns. But I get the feeling when I use the airport at other times.

As the city parts its lips as the car throbs in the driving has my heart in my ears: Nairobi driving is a course in derring-do. These streets took the life of my compatriot and sublime cartoonist Frank Odoi   http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-17828605.
I know you caricaturing away with your deft pencil. And the weather. The soothing very cool winds that I encountered have a pampering effect. One remembers Accra's searing heat about which no one official outfit is giving us any explanations. Of  course government has more pressing matters to explain like dough for a pilgrimage to Israel; bungled letterheads yada yada. Tweaaaaaaaa as my elders will say in Obosomase and Mampong Kontokyi.

Nairobi's streets do not glitter that much from automobiles' shiny bodies like Accra's. Accra is the car lover's blinding paradise. I mean I saw Toyota Corolla models that you will struggle to find in Accra's scrap dumps. And then the right hand drive has a way of jarring my West African left hand drive orientation. The matatus(trotros) are a sight; pock marked with very well made grafitti and heaving with music at high volumes and crammed with bodies. The Kenyan authorities could do well like Accra's with a better public transport system I guess. Who cares? Signs of the elections are everywhere; posters haggard from the elements peer from the battered walls. As the election petition at the highest court takes on a life of its own and captures the attention of Kenyans life goes on. I like that. The laughter is there; the frank banter; the politeness and also the despair over a very beautiful country that can go very far. I mean Kibaki was given a tractor and very well bred cows by the army as his farewell gift; Madam Kibaki got a dinner set that needed almost a unit of soldiers to carry(I watched the newsreel on Kenyan Television). My Kenyan colleague called it ridiculous: the poverty is vivid on Nairobi's streets as the poor huddle about in over-sized wind breakers and literally prowl the streets.Somehow I feel there is some 1960ish order in Nairobi as the city mutates under the sway of cranes. And on their TV I think they leave Ghana's in the shadows. The quality of their anchors; the studio setting; the quality of the stories; the pace; the energy; the alertness and consciousness(the Kenyan and African perspective is in evidence). If Ghana Television generally(with the exception of say VIASAT 1) is lard Kenyan TV is boiling soup!!!!! And the newspapers keep my attention: I mean I find it difficult throwing them away after a thumping read.

And then Achebe(the Kenyan Daily Nation's cartoonist eulogises him in the drawing above) passed. For three days(and still counting) the tributes have poured in. The Kenyan establishment has had its go through Odinga's piece which appeared in the Daily Nation. Kenya's literary scholars have offered perspectives of Achebe's value to the African and global cannon. I have not been drawn to Achebe like other African bards like Ayi Kwei Armah. But I should return to him given the accounts I have read. In the way in which Achebe has been hailed I reckon Senghor will roll in his grave over his infamous: reason is Greek,emotion is Negro. In the maw of materialism's onslaught in Africa Achebe in death has shown that this continent has ALWAYS been the home of great thought. I pause but only in suspended animation like the Eneke bird because "men have learned to shoot without missing their mark and I have learned to fly without perching on a twig."Thank you Achebe!!!!                

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DUBAI

The inimitable Malcolm X with Alex Harley(Credit-Facebook) 

This is certainly my last blog for the year 2012. What a year it has been. In my personal, family and professional life the year has been about learning, persisting and growing. The Ananse story about the palm nut and the hole in the ground  has held so much meaning for me. Ananse the great eternal anti-hero and thinker(I thank my very senior friend Nana Nketsia V of Essikado for teaching me the deeper meaning of Kwaku Ananse and the enduring tales span centuries ago about him) was as usual caught up in a drama where the entire village was threatened by famine. He chances upon this hole with strict rules about how many palm nuts to put in the ground to allow access to a bounty of food. Ananse defies the rules in the interest of greed and loses a great chance to cure his hunger and that of his family. The story is about temperance, patience and fortitude. One cannot always force things in life. Sometimes things fall at your feet without you trying. The Orientals call it Tao, the Way( Christianity in its earliest manifestation was also called the Way...well, well, well) . In a year in which  my thirties draw to an end I learnt the ying and yang of effort and effortlessness.

Cranes hug the Dubai skyline(03.09.2005)

I will blog about the elections when the dust finally settles. As a patriot and nationalist the elections is teaching me lessons about this Republic and her people in all their viciousness, cunning , hubris, forbearance, large heartedness and calculating coldness. This story is not about the Dubai you know which oozes with opulence,luxury and all the allure of the consumer's paradise. I have to thank Malcolm X and my compatriot Ayi Kwei Armah for drawing my mind as a youth to the East. These two made me understand that the East was not far after all. And appreciation is due also to my Dad Yaw Adjei who encouraged my then playful interest in heading Eastward. I remember what he said to me then: " Lloyd go East. The pulse of the changing world lies there. Go and see that world with your eyes." Of course he had been to India before I was born. So in my Eastward journeys I have come to know Dubai. The last time I passed through was last month. I watched closely to see if this Gulf state had lost any of its shine after the last global financial bubble left most of its multi-million dollar steel and concrete heaven bound edifices empty. As I snaked through the airport I espied that large advertorial on the wall announcing the Dubai of tomorrow to all who passed through this city. I collected several of the country's free newspapers(we in Ghana do not want anything free; its corrupting!). Reading some of their papers can be tedious; it feels like trying to get your arms round a Baobab tree. Dubai has not lost its glitter yet.The all white queues waiting to buy shimmering gold was there.The glum,sated, snotty sheiks with their flowing white gowns were still there. The wafting scent of perfumes that threatened to excavate all your olfactory members were still present. The markets were alive brimming with luxuries and the gaunt, listless workers from Pakistan, Philippines and   Indonesia were still there seeking their fortune or misfortune. Dubai has become a legend. Like Timbuktu and Djeni and Gao long before the philistines laid siege in our very wretched times. And that is how my Dubai has taken the sobriquet for himself.

I met him at the car wash. I wondered why he wore shorts at all if his prime agenda was to expose all of his boxers and his butts. His mimicked Beckham's hair cut(displayed at his ill fated last world cup). He was energetic and enterprising, full of zest and life. He gave my jalopy a nice shine. We got talking. I have always been interested in all sorts. His name was Dubai. He wanted to go to Dubai and bring stuff back to Ghana to sell. He obviously had heard the tales carried by those restless Ghanaian business men and women who hustled their way across the world to their self engineered prosperity. Dubai loved the Sarkodie blaring away in my car. He was a budding rapper he intoned. He was looking for a producer. He delivered some punchlines to me. Later on Dubai intimated that he was a factory hand too on the Spintex Road on that Lebanese Enclave Stretch. The next time I saw Dubai he was selling an assortment of shoes on the pavement in Sakumono. Dude had taken a portion of the street. I have given up trying to keep this neighbourhood a residential area. Soon it will be an ugly slum with all its open spaces taken over by citizens trying to make a living in a stiflingly unresponsive environment while the MPs and party general secretaries and presidential staffers move to and fro in their "toys". And they say we are lazy; a dubious narrative that even some serious scholars believe in.   Unless policy formation touches the little man and woman its a farce routinized in winding speeches, sod cutting ceremonies and reels of texts and figures.

What next for Dubai???????????  Happy hols to Dubai and to us all!!!                   

To a Great and Rare Teacher-Mr. Aidoo

I remember like it was just yesterday when he breezed into the classroom-Class 6S, Morning Star School, Cantonments, Accra. It was the Accra of the 1980s. That young flight-lieutenant who had taken state power by force of arms was in full flight and in control of the Republic of Ghana. Those were really hard times of curfews, excruciating shortage of what was labeled rather ominously and tastelessly ‘essential commodities’ and fabrics for our school uniform(white shirts over khaki shorts). What struck me was his almost Afro-style hair and his Fu-Manchu that snaked into a fairly shaggy but tended beard. Under his lower lip was this collection of hair as well that tended to jut out on an account of his almost impulsive habit( as we came to discover) of pulling at them in anger(he tended to display when rubbed wrongly a fiery temper) or happiness. Mr Aidoo had intelligent very aware eyes and framed by his facial hirsuteness he had the air of an intellectual about him.

Mr. Aidoo taught us for a while in Class 6S and then moved on to Class 7 H(my year held that distinct record). This implied that he prepared us for the crucial Common Entrance Examinations held countrywide to determine the future of youngsters. If you did well on that exam your chances( there was no guarantee given an admission process marked by favouritism and shady backroom dealings which even we as youngsters came to know as “backdoor connection!”) of getting to an elite secondary school were high. Otherwise you made do with the supposedly second and third league schools. The brutality of this pecking order produced a psychological dead weight with its attendant strains and stresses on our young minds.  It was an intense race to the best schools the Republic had on offer and we would discuss this under those Nim trees sitting on those rocks having lunch or snacks. On hindsight I think it was all unnecessary; probably over estimated and hyped. My father Yaw Adjei is probably right: every man or woman is the architect of his or her own destiny. A great secondary school might help but it provides no guarantee and might sometimes even provide a false sense of “everything stitched up without hardwork” with devastating future consequences. I have seen too many of such very sad examples thus far.

 Mr Aidoo recognized this struggle we faced and gave his all. My mathematical skills improved vastly under his feet. He made us think methodically and in an orderly fashion as he walked us through those quantitative puzzles and math problems. He had a sharp tongue when you slipped up unnecessarily and it helped(even though some of my mates balked at it all). Those mathematical skills and tricks he taught us have stayed with me to this day as I write an ode to a true Ghanaian hero. For me this speaks to the question of basic education and the quality and access for the masses of our Republic. For upon the way our very young minds are nurtured very early depends not just the development of this our Republic but crucially her SURVIVAL. That is why I find the debates or rather shouting matches on basic education and socializing and universalizing it desiccating. This is a matter we as society MUST find answers to or forget about our place in the sun on this globe. If we do not have the money we NEED to find it; it is that simple beyond the tardy esotericism, plain disingenuousness and pettily cheap ideological points scoring that has attended it all. On this matter we should not be PARALYSED by analysis but be INSPIRED by it: crossing the river by feeling the stones.

Where would I have been without this gentleman? He had such great facility for the English language and from his vast store of vocabulary some of us feasted to the point of satiation. But more importantly he shared with us what our future was going to look like. He will teach us simple equations and then indicate that as we went forward those same equations will take on a certain sophistication reflective of a higher stage of learning. He shared with us his experiences in his Teacher Training College. He seemed particularly enamored of the motto of Adisadel College: either the best or with the best. It became the unofficial motto as we stomped away to face the final exams. His social consciousness was deep. In a Morning Star School that was itself somewhat cloistered and sniffy he will lay it down as he deemed fit. Some of our school mates were spoilt arrogant pompous brats and he will take them on without batting an eye lid. I loved him for that. I think Mr. Aidoo could have expanded his professional horizons given his formidable mind. This brings me to  opportunities for teachers especially at the basic level. This can occur only through deliberately targeted policy that is alive to this matter. Ghana needs some of her best minds at this level not only in the banks and other corporate enclaves as seems to be the case.     

In a serious country Mr. Aidoo would have his place among the stars for the generations of pupils he moulded. It was under him that a dude like Ransford Brenya was formed. Ransford went to the University of Ghana Medical School and on graduation virtually won every prize on offer. Mr. Aidoo nurtured bankers, lawyers, economists, business people, artists, teachers and other professionals who are making a difference in Ghana and the wider world. Our nation never remembers such greats as it remains beholden to shysters and punks upon whom we shower and waste our resources and veneration. Some of us refuse to go down that wretched road and so I remember you and sincerely. And I am deeply grateful for all the hours you spent teaching in rain or blazing sunshine so I too could become at the very worst a useful thinking citizen. There will be no national flag draping your coffin nor a cortege drawing your remains nor a 22 gun salute nor screaming bill boards with syrupy infantile inscriptions. But the truth is that you were infinitely greater than so many of your country men and women including so many of our past presidents. Sleep well Sir!!!!!!           

Two books!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Two books I just bought. Chomsky is my prototype of a public intellectual: engaging, witty, tireless....I thank my professor Dr. Martin Odei-Ajei for exposing him to us in our undergrad years!!! And I love the ringside report of the key policies that constructed China's "miracle" from one of the key architects Li Lanqing!!!!

Of Dopamine and pudendum!!!!

Naomi Wolf's latest work on the female pudenda is as provocative as it is informative and downright bold and even intellectual. I am struck by the mysteries of dopamine and its inspiration for the Nirvana induced states(albeit momentary) for the fairer sex during coitus. The Economist of 8th-14th of September, 2012 has an interesting snap take on the book on p.68 and the Guardian weighs in as well with a rather longish piece   http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/sep/07/vagina-new-biography-naomi-wolf-review

 Ghana's women's Manifesto is back in the news and Ghanaian men and male dominated political space needs all the info germane for more sensitivity and ACTION than has been expressed  :)!!!  

One for the weekend(hopefully of less blackouts :()