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30.07.2008 News

Tit-Bits From US Of A

30.07.2008 LISTEN
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I have been enjoying my holidays even though I really miss home. For the past weekends, I have been attending Ghanaian gatherings. 

I have attended some graduation parties, birthday parties, house warming and of course my eldest son's wedding. Yes, I have begun to sign them off hosting Groom's dinners. 

I am reminding them of one lesson I have always asked them to remember in their married lives — to respect a woman. 

I am a super fan of Barack Obama for one simple reason.  The subject of irresponsible black fathers is right at the centre of his campaigns and he makes sure he brings it up whenever appropriate. 

 

He has not minced his words saying that some of the absentee fathers are in part to blame for some of the problems afflicting Black Americans. 

On Fathers' Day in June, Mr Obama told a Chicago church congregation that “we need fathers to recognise that responsibility doesn't just end at conception”. 

This message prompted the Reverend Jesse Jackson to accuse Mr Obama of “talking down to black people”. 

A few weeks later when Barack Obama attended the 99th Convention of the nation's largest civil rights organisation, the National Association of African American People (NAACP) at Cincinnati, he used the occasion to press his call for African-Americans to take more personal responsibility for their children and within their communities.  

According to Senator Obama, the roles of parents “start with teaching our daughters to never allow images on television to tell them what they are worth, and teaching our sons to treat women with respect, and to realise that responsibility does not end at conception; that what makes them men is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise one”.  I would have given Barack thumbs up if I were there. 

Partying almost every Saturday since being here has opened my eyes to something that needs some attention and focus as Ghanaians. 

 

The quality of second, third and even fourth generation Ghanaians and Ghanaian born Americans I have sampled so far, brings to the fore a sad reminder that we are losing a chunk of our future generation and solid brains at that to America and for that matter, the Western world, since these days Ghanaians are all over the world. 

I have met Ghanaian medical professionals who are practising in this country, some as private practitioners; others are in hospitals where they are heads of departments. 

 

Very impressive. I have also met third generation Ghanaians or Ghanaian born Americans who are lawyers, engineers, food scientists, bankers, and IT specialists. 

 

There are some others who have obtained their PhDs, masters or MBAs.  Oh, what a brain drain for Ghana, not to mention the holes being punched in our future human resource base. 

How on earth can we reverse this drain?  How does the nation Ghana attract the generation of young and energetic professionals back home to come and help build Kwame Nkrumah's Ghana.

 

When you talk to them, some have been coming home consistently and are impressed with the gradual but steady progress so far. 

How I wish our politicians would start addressing some such issues — brain drains.  I will definitely vote for anyone who is able to convince me of a strategy to address this. 

 

But wait a minute, what are our ambassadors and high commissioners doing about such critical issues out there as our nation's representatives?  Is this kind of issue a priority on their agenda? 

Yes, we want Ghanaians abroad to come back home and join in the building (maybe rebuilding) of our motherland.  My conviction is that the foundation stone should include these young professionals out there. The talents seen so far impress me big.  

Let me swing the pendulum a little bit and talk about what I have observed of the media.  It did not take me long to draw striking similarities in the operation of the media here and back home

 

The media here are really keeping celebrities and politicians on their toes.  What I don't like, however, is when they indulge in distortions or personal attacks which can be fake information and highly inflammatory. 

Making the news lately over here is the cover of New Yorker, one of America's popular news magazine which set off a web-and-cable frenzy over cover art that shows Barack Obama as a Muslim, Michelle Obama as a militant and the American flag aflame under a portrait of Osama bin Laden — all in the Oval Office. 

Reactions to the cartoon by artist Barry Blitt ranged from sadness to rage to scorn. 

Even though the Editor of New Yorker has called the cover a “fantastical”satire, some black people do not see it that way.  They see it as racism. 

So the New Yorker cartoon has sparked a lot of political hot topics on the web.  What actually has been going through my mind is some of the similarities in media distortions, cut and paste, insults, satires and stereotypical images. 

 

Not only that.  Just as the cartoon has topped all media discussions over here, the dissection would have taken similar proportions back home.  The value really is the same. 

I could bet my last pesewa that if this cartoon had happened in my beloved Ghana, printed glossy coloured posters would have been manufactured by now for sale on the streets of our capitals.

 

 Don't ask me who at all are behind the printing of those posters which they sell in traffic at the expense of other people's trauma.

It is amazing how as a country, our laws will allow uncaring individuals to continue to play on the sensitivities of others for their own selfish gains. 

 

The tragic death of a popular artist in a road accident on the Accra-Tema motorway recently for example, provided an avenue for someone to make money by printing and selling the tragedy. 

You know what; I have tried to make it to church on Sundays.  I had to nourish my soul whiles out here and also show off some of the kaba styles I brought over. 

 

 Even back home, Sundays are the only days one can proudly show off one's made-in-Ghana kaba creations.  What happened to the Friday wear concept?  Perhaps we need a World Bank project to revive or have it re-launched. 

I am pleasantly surprised at how fuller the churches over here tend to be.  The last time I was in a neighbourhood church in London, the room was half empty. 

 

As for my church in Tooting Broadway back in the 1980s, I found to my surprise two years ago when I visited the neighbourhood that it had given way to new apartments and shops. 

 

Those who brought missionary work to our shores must be weeping for their own. 

The United Methodist Church at Princeton, New Jersey is alive with its small choir, an active youth group of all nationalities, a brand new female Priest and a multinational congregation. 

 

It reminded me of my Accra Ridge Church.  It is encouraging to see how God's love is bringing people all over the world together in this New Jersey church.  God bless America. 

I set a day aside to go down town New York to sample a bit of city life. My train took me to Penn Station from where I took the subway to Grand Central.  Penn Station is something else. 

 

 A dash here and a dash there laced with isolated beggars crossing busy paths and asking for money. 

 

Heavy footsteps sounding like the approach of elephants, crowds gathered at departure and arrival boards waiting for signals as to where to board their trains and when, and the rush with which crowds move at the confirmation of their platforms. 

 

Wow! Does life ever stop at Penn Station? 

I changed trains for a subway to the city.  Two stops away, I got down at Grand Central, 42nd Street to commence my walk down town...  What hit me first and foremost were the streams of yellow cabs. 

 

It looked like all the drivers are blacks — possibly my countrymen.  I walked for miles crossing streets and avenues.  I looked for a similar street in my capital Accra but it was difficult to think of any. 

But as I moved on, my mind went back to the Kwame Nkrumah Avenue (should it not be Street).

 

Right from the Circle through to Adabraka Police Station, continue to what is referred to as Farisco Traffic lights to Kingsway and COCOBOD down to Liberty House and then to the Post Office Square. 

 

I can make out several avenues/streets — first street, second street and go on to probably seventh street.  Seriously, our central business district needs some sanity and order in street naming, Accra Metropolitan Autority, please. 

My walk took me past a string of shops, high rise offices and hotels. You cannot miss huge American flags that had been hoisted visibly on all the Government buildings I walked past.

 

 Moving further on, I could see down ahead of me, the United Nations building. I could now feel that I was actually in the Big Apple. By this time, my poor legs were beginning to ache but I was determined to explore the city. 

The teeming crowd of all nationalities out there, I noticed that there was no dress code for down town New York. 

 

Anything goes.  More importantly, nobody notices you.  By the time I brought my walk to an end, my country folks back home had gone to sleep. 

 

It was 6 p.m. New York time and 10 p.m. Accra time.  My dread now was going back to Penn Station to take the train back home, oh, not another hassle. 

Walking on the streets of New York, America's largest city with a population of eight million or so, will send you bananas.  It did do exactly that to me; but it was great fun. 

Just in....
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