Ghana: Land of Nkoko Nketenkete and Nsem Nketenkete

President John Dramani Mahama, radiating the sun-kissed optimism of a ripe mango, launched the Nkoko Nketenkete Programme in Techiman last week. The air vibrated with clucking anticipation, not just from the potential poultry beneficiaries, but from the assembled dignitaries, each sporting a bespoke kente cloth woven with subliminal messages of allegiance.

“Ghana,” boomed the President, his voice echoing across the poultry yard (newly paved for the occasion), “Ghana will no longer be enslaved by the tyranny of imported chicken! We will rise, like phoenixes from the ashes of frozen drumsticks, and cluck our way to self-sufficiency!”

The crowd, a sea of expectant faces framed by celebratory chicken-patterned hats, erupted in applause. They envisioned a future overflowing with locally-sourced chicken stew, fried wings that crisped to perfection, and eggs so fresh they’d practically jump out of the pan and greet you good morning. Nkoko Nketenkete, the people declared, was the answer.

But lurking beneath the surface of this feathered utopia, is a simmering discontent. Yes, the Nkoko Nketenkete Programme promised a golden age of Ghanaian poultry. Yes, the president's charisma could charm the feathers off a rooster. But Nsem Nketenkete, those irritating little gnats of discontent, continued to plague the party faithful.

Specifically, Yaanom. The spectre of Yaanom, those shadowy figures appointed by the erstwhile government, haunt the corridors of power. They are like stubborn weeds, refusing to be uprooted from the fertile soil of government bureaucracy.

"How can we expect progress when these Yaanom are still holding sensitive positions in our government?" wailed Shams, a stalwart NDC supporter. "Yaanom are like termites eating away at the very foundations of Nkoko Nketenkete," he fumed.

The whispers grew louder. These Yaanom, it was whispered, are sabotaging the Mahama government. They are intentionally misplacing vital chicken feed invoices. They are secretly training foxes to infiltrate the poultry farms. They are even, some whispered, deliberately orchestrating the dreaded dumsor, the power outages, to prevent the eggs from incubating properly.

Ah, dumsor. The national curse. The uninvited guest at every political rally. This time, Yaanom are being blamed. It is clear, the logic goes that these nefarious agents are switching off the lights at the very moments when the eggs required consistent warmth. They are sacrificing national progress at the altar of their bitterness.

The President, aware of the unrest, addressed the issue at a press conference, skillfully navigating the delicate political landscape.

"My friends," he said, his voice resonating with statesmanlike gravitas, "I understand your concerns. But we must remember that Ghana is a nation of laws. We cannot simply cast out those who disagree with us. We must. . . re-educate them. Show them the light. Help them understand the transformative power of Nkoko Nketenkete!"

He paused, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "Besides," he added with a wink, "where else are we going to get experts in sabotage? We might need them later, you know, for. . .reasons of national security."

The assembled journalists, sensing a subtle shift in the political wind, scribbled furiously. The Nkoko Nketenkete programme, it seemed, is not just about chicken. It is about power, loyalty, and the enduring legacy of Yaanom, who, despite their alleged treachery, seemed destined to remain, a perpetual thorn in the side of Ghanaian progress because they are likely to stay in opposition for long, forever to be blamed for the next egg that fails to hatch. And the dumsor, of course.

Anthony Obeng Afrane