What if the winner of the presidential elections was determined by a football gala?

It was a long half-day spent on Saturday, 5th December 2020. Soon after the wee hours of the morning, the sun had already gnashed its teeth and by noon, the world had become a furnace.

I took a spot under an awning close to a weeping willow. It felt a little bit better there. I had my Bluetooth earpiece stuck into my ears, listening to Newsfile; my favorite radio talk show.

I was beginning to feel comfortable not only with the breeze that blew over my head to whisper a howling sound, and tickle my body hair as though I was being caressed, but also, I was quite impressed with the assuring messages on the show from the experts and players of the elections.

I was basking in the moment when I noticed I wasn't the only one there. A group of boys, about 10 or even more, had piled themselves up under the weeping willow too. They had been there long before I felt their presence. They were speaking on top of their voices, prevaricating one another - almost arguing about something. It was when I took the earpiece off my ears that I heard it all.

They were sharing their own perspectives of the elections.

These were boys whose ages may range between 8 to 12 years; most of who are under 10. They were clad in all manner of jersey types, with legs covered in harmattan dust; they must have played football the whole morning. And now, the scorching sun had driven them to disturb me.

I feigned oblivion, and eavesdropped in the banter amongst them with cocked ears.

Apparently, these lads did not understand why the winner of an election could not be determined by a simple football gala.

There were those who considered it a thoughtful move because then the smaller parties will play with the bigger ones on a level-playing field.

There were however others who disagreed, saying that the bigger parties can afford to buy the best players abroad.

Then the youngest amongst them, who later won my admiration, contorted his face and chipped in, "They will even pay the referees" (by 'pay', he meant bribe).

There was an awkward pause, as if to let that last submission sink into their brains.

"The gala can only be fair if it is played between NPP and NDC", the boy in the Samson branded Chelsea jersey broke the silence.

"NPP is richer than NDC, so where is the fairness?", the one in a tattered Manchester united jersey questioned.

This revved up another lengthy argument. In the end they both seemed to agree that both parties are rich enough to buy or pay any referees because they both have tasted power.

"Why don't we play a match so that we form a Nana Addo boys'team versus Mahama boys' team and play this evening?" one of them suggested.

"Good idea!" the Manchester United boy exclaimed, excitedly. And all of them agreed.

They put themselves in two groups - majority of them volunteered to play for Nana Addo's boys' team with only 4 boys ready to play for Mahama's team - I counted 8 boys for Nana Addo.

The ring leader of the Nana Addo boys had to sack the tiny young boys, who I presumed not to be skillful, to play for the Mahama boys' team. Soon, the teams were set; 6 boys in each team.

At 5pm, when the sun had begun to make peace with the earth, the boys were on the field again, playing. Nana Addo's boys were in Tottenham Hotspur Jerseys while Mahama boys clad in Chelsea blue.

There was a referee - a lanky boy, older than them and had an oversized pair of yellow shorts on, almost falling off the grip of his waist anytime he jogged along.

The match did not end before I left to respond to an urgent call.

Minutes after, towards 6:15pm, I heard, "4 more! 4 more! 4more!", some of the boys shouted it out so loudly. I was almost assuming the winner until it became apparent that the losers were being teased.

Vote wisely!

Francis Sanusi

Columnist

Development Communication Practitioner

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