Praying for Cocoa: Faith, Politics, and Pod Borers

Agro. . . eii, sorry, Aflame Prayer Group, bless their perpetually pious hearts, had re-emerged from their Yaanom-induced slumber like a particularly zealous groundhog seeing its shadow. You see, Aflame only experiences daylight when the Umbrella casts its long, benevolent shade. The moment the Yaanom's sun rises, they burrow deep into the earth, presumably praying for the return of dimmer skies.

Now, Aflame, bless their strategically-timed spiritual awakenings, hadn't been heard from much since the last Umbrella-era commissioning of a commemorative borehole. But oh, the Umbrella was back, and with it, the familiar chorus of “Lord, open the heavens!” and, more subtly, “Lord, open the government’s eyes to the perilous state of our cocoa farms!”

Yes, you read that right. Cocoa. Apparently, divine intervention was now the preferred solution to low commodity prices and pod borer infestations.

The latest Aflame prayer session, meticulously documented on social media with strategically placed emojis and hashtags (#PrayForGhana #CocoaCrisis #GodHelpUs), was a masterclass in passive-aggressive supplication. Deaconess Yaa Attaa, a woman whose pronouncements were often interpreted as cryptic economic forecasts disguised as scripture, led the charge.

“Oh, Lord!” she boomed, her voice amplified by a suspiciously new sound system. “We beseech thee to look upon our beloved cocoa farms! The land, once flowing with brown gold, now weeps with. . .uh. . . less brown gold! We pray for the diligent farmers, toiling under the. . .uh. . . challenging weather conditions! May they be blessed with. . .uh. . .solutions to the unforeseen. . .difficulties and government reforms!”

The congregation, predominantly clad in variations of white cloth and long faces, nodded solemnly. Sister Seraphina, notorious for her whispered gossip masquerading as prayer requests, chimed in, “Sandalabababa, hribabababa, Lord, we also pray for wise leadership! That those entrusted with the nation’s treasures may be guided by divine wisdom, and not. . .uh. . .personal enrichment!”

The “uh” was crucial. It allowed them plausible deniability. After all, they were just praying! How could anyone possibly interpret their heartfelt supplications as veiled accusations of governmental mismanagement? It was all about spiritual ambiguity.

The true genius, however, lay in the prayer for “divine intervention in the market forces.” This, translated into layman’s terms, meant, “Lord, please make cocoa prices skyrocket on the international market so everyone can stop complaining.” A rather convenient request, considering the Umbrella administration was, you know, kind of responsible for navigating those tricky market forces.

After the prayer session, attended by an impressive number of local journalists with cameras conveniently pointed in the right direction, Deaconess Yaa Attaa gave a short sermon. She didn’t explicitly mention the Umbrella government, oh no. Instead, she talked about the biblical tale of the barren fig tree, a thinly veiled allegory for. . .well, you get the picture.

The media lapped it up. Headlines blared: "Aflame Prayer Group Seeks Divine Solution to Cocoa Woes!" and "Faith Leaders Urge Government to Address Cocoa Crisis!" It was a PR masterpiece, a delicately orchestrated dance of faith, politics, and the ever-present aroma of hypocrisy.

Of course, come the next election cycle, should the Yaanom sun dare to rise again, Aflame will retreat back into the shadows, only to re-emerge when the Umbrella casts its comforting shade, ready to pray for. . .something equally pressing and conveniently timed. Because, let’s be honest, divine intervention is always needed, especially when the right political party is in power. It’s practically a commandment. Or, at least, that’s how Aflame interprets it.

Anthony Obeng Afrane

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