When Ghana Cries, Who Will Hear Her?

A pensioner called me. He did not call to complain about politics. He did not call to praise my article. He called because he was hurting. Then he began to sob. And as I listened to him, I found myself sobbing too.

What do you say to a man who has given the best years of his life to his country and now cannot afford his medicines? What do you say to an old man who must choose between buying his drugs and buying food? What do you say to someone who has worked, contributed, paid his dues and waited patiently for old age, only to discover that old age can be a frightening place? I had no answer. What could I possibly say? “Be patient”? He has been patient. “Have faith”? He has faith. “Things will get better”? When? How? With what?

He was hungry. He needed medicine. He was crying. And somewhere in Ghana, perhaps at that very moment, millions of cedis were being spent on political campaigns. Millions. Billions. Money poured into rallies, vehicles, posters, advertisements, logistics, entertainment and political mobilization. And I wondered: What kind of country have we become? A country where an old man cannot afford medicine while those seeking political power can spend fortunes pursuing it? A country where the poor are told to tighten their belts while some people appear to have belts made of gold? A country where we have become accustomed to suffering? Perhaps that is our greatest tragedy. Not merely that people are suffering. But that we have become comfortable pretending that they are not.

We Are Pretending

Let us be honest with ourselves. We are pretending. Pretending that all is well. Pretending that Ghana is fine. Pretending that because there are new buildings in Accra, Kumasi, Tamale, and other cities, everybody is prospering. Pretending that because some people are driving expensive cars, the nation is developing. Pretending that because some politicians are wearing beautiful clothes and travelling in long convoys, the people are happy. Pretending.

Meanwhile, Ghana is quietly bleeding. The young graduate is looking for work. The mother is struggling with school fees. The father is borrowing money for hospital bills. The farmer is wondering whether farming still makes sense. The teacher is struggling to survive. The nurse is exhausted. The trader's capital is disappearing. The pensioner is cutting tablets in half. And some are not eating properly. But we smile. We attend rallies. We wave party colours. We clap. We cheer. We say Ghana is developing. Developing for whom?

Too Many Have Just Their Heads above Water

There is something profoundly wrong when too many people are drowning while a tiny minority are not merely above water but swimming in oceans of wealth. Some are struggling to find a few hundred cedis. Others are dealing in millions. Some cannot afford a hospital prescription. Others can spend millions on political campaigns. Some children go to bed hungry. Oh, my God! Others grow up believing that wealth is simply something their families have always possessed. Some pensioners calculate whether they can afford three meals. Others calculate where to build their next mansion. This is not envy. It is a question of justice. It is a question of conscience. It is a question of what kind of society we are building. And perhaps most importantly, it is a question of what kind of human beings we are becoming.

What Do We Want All That Money For?

I want to ask our politicians --- and indeed all of us who have acquired extraordinary wealth --- a simple question: What do you want all that money for? How many houses can one person live in? How many cars can one person drive at the same time? How many bedrooms can one person sleep in? How many watches can one person wear? How many tables can one person sit at? How many millions can one person spend? How much is enough? Ten million? Fifty million? One hundred million? A billion? And when you have acquired it all, then what? Your heart will still beat one beat at a time. You will still eat one meal at a time. You will still sleep in one bed at a time. You will still wear one shirt at a time. And when death comes, you will leave everything. Everything!

The mansion will remain. The cars will remain. The accounts will remain. The companies will remain. The political influence will remain. The titles will remain. Your children will inherit the wealth. But you will not take even one pesewa with you.

Ghana Was Not Destined to be This Way

This is what makes the Ghanaian tragedy so painful. We did not start at the bottom. Ghana became independent in 1957. Malaysia became independent in 1957. Singapore became independent in 1965. Today, the development gap is enormous. Singapore became a global center of commerce, finance, technology and innovation. Malaysia transformed its economy and lifted millions into a higher standard of living.

And Ghana? We continue to debate why our roads are poor. Why our hospitals struggle. Why young people cannot find jobs. Why our schools need more resources. Why our pensioners are struggling. Why corruption refuses to die. Why public debt keeps haunting us. Why we borrow to finance development while some people are becoming extraordinarily wealthy. What happened to us? Perhaps the answer is not that Ghana lacks resources. Perhaps Ghana lacks something more fundamental: a political culture in which public office is understood as a sacred trust rather than an opportunity for personal enrichment.

The Poor Are Not the Numbers

Sometimes we speak about poverty in cold language. GDP. Inflation. Fiscal deficit. Debt-to-GDP ratio. Unemployment. Poverty rate. But behind every statistic is a human being. The pensioner who cannot buy medicine is not a statistic. He is somebody's father. Somebody's grandfather. Somebody who once woke up every morning and went to work. Somebody who paid taxes. Somebody who contributed to a pension scheme believing that one day it would sustain him. Now he is old. His strength is gone. His earning power is gone. And his dignity is being slowly taken from him by poverty. Can we hear him crying? Can we? Or have we become so accustomed to suffering that we no longer hear it?

The Cruel Irony of Political Power

Look at what happens during elections. Money suddenly appears. Vehicles appear. Posters appear. Billboards appear. Entertainment appears. Food appears. Campaign offices appear. Huge rallies appear. Political machinery moves. Power seekers travel the length and breadth of Ghana. Money flows. And the ordinary Ghanaian watches.

A poor nation somehow finds enormous sums of money for political competition. Yet the same nation struggles to provide adequate resources for hospitals. A nation that struggles to pay its debts can produce politicians who appear capable of spending enormous sums to secure political office. Where does this money come from? Who finances it? Where does it go? And perhaps the most important question: What happens after the election? Does somebody eventually have to recover the money? And if so, from whom?

This is where corruption begins to reveal its ugly face. Because the money spent to acquire power can become the seed of the money later extracted from power. And the people pay. Always, the people pay. The pensioner pays. The farmer pays. The teacher pays. The nurse pays. The trader pays. The unemployed graduate pays. The young mother pays. The ordinary taxpayer pays. They pay through taxes. They pay through inflation. They pay through poor services. They pay through unemployment. They pay through inadequate pensions. They pay through long queues at hospitals. They pay through children leaving school. They pay through dreams postponed. And sometimes, Lord have Mercy, they pay with their lives.

What Happened to Our Compass?

There was a time when we spoke about leadership with reverence. Leadership meant sacrifice. Leadership meant service. Leadership meant leaving something behind. Kwame Nkrumah spoke of independence as a means of freeing not merely Ghana but Africa from poverty and oppression. The great leaders of history understood that leadership was larger than the leader. A leader was supposed to disappear into the achievement.

The road should remain. The school should remain. The hospital should remain. The institution should remain. The knowledge should remain. The dignity of the people should remain. But today, too often, we ask: What will I get? Instead of: What can I give? We ask: How much can I accumulate? Instead of: How many lives can I improve? We ask: What contract can I secure? Instead of: What legacy can I leave? And that is where a nation begins to lose its soul.

The Philosophers Warned Us

The philosophers have been telling humanity this for centuries. Socrates taught that the unexamined life is not worth living. Perhaps nations, too, must examine themselves. What are we becoming? What do we worship? What do we admire? Do we admire the honest man? Or the rich man? Do we admire the person who served the nation? Or the person who became wealthy through politics? Do we ask how wealth was acquired? Or do we simply celebrate wealth?

The Stoics reminded us that external possessions are fragile and temporary. Aristotle warned against making the endless acquisition of wealth an end in itself. And modern sociologists have repeatedly shown how inequality can damage social trust and weaken the bonds that hold societies together. A society cannot remain healthy indefinitely when its citizens believe that the rules are different for the rich and the poor. When one person can buy justice while another cannot afford a lawyer. When one person can access the best hospital while another dies waiting. When one person can educate his children anywhere in the world while another cannot afford schoolbooks. When one person can spend millions seeking power while another cannot afford dinner. Something is broken.

Yet, We Are People of Faith

This is where our hypocrisy becomes even more painful. Ghana is a deeply religious country. We are Christians. We are Muslims. We fill churches. We fill masjids. We preach righteousness. We preach honesty. We preach humility. We preach charity. We preach judgment. We preach Heaven. We preach hell. We tell our children that God sees everything. And yet, when money is placed before us, sometimes our religion suddenly becomes silent.

The Christian knows the words of Jesus: “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” The Muslim knows the Qur'anic warning: “The mutual rivalry for piling up worldly things diverts you.” And both traditions teach something frighteningly similar: This life is temporary. There is another life. There is accountability. There is judgment.

The Day the Account Will Be Opened

One day, the politician will stand before God. Not as Minister. Not as MP. Not as President. Not as party chairman. Not as businessman. Not as millionaire. Not as billionaire. Just as a human being. And the questions will not be: How many votes did you win? How many rallies did you organize? How many houses did you build? How many cars did you own?

The questions will be much harder. Where did your wealth come from? How did you acquire it? Did you take what belonged to the people? Did you demand a bribe? Did you divert public money? Did you sign a contract knowing it was inflated? Did you look away when others stole? Did you use public office to enrich yourself? And then perhaps the most painful question: When the people were suffering, what did you do? What will the answer be?

The Pensioner Will be there

On that Day, the pensioner who called me will be there too. The old man who could not afford his medicine. The man who cried on the cellphone. He will stand there. And those who had billions will stand there too. And there will be no political party to defend anyone. No lawyer. No campaign team. No newspaper. No journalist. No television station. No public relations officer. No supporters. Only truth. Only justice. Only the record of what each person did with what God gave him.

And perhaps the politician will look at the pensioner. And remember. Remember the old man. Remember the medicine. Remember the hunger. Remember the tears. And understand, too late, that the money he thought belonged to him was never really his. It was entrusted to him.

Please, Leave Something Behind

To our political leaders: Please, We are begging you. Not for yourselves. For Ghana. For our children. For our grandchildren. For the old man who cannot buy medicine. For the young graduate who cannot find work. For the mother who cannot feed her children properly. For the farmer who cannot make farming profitable. For the teacher who struggles to survive. For the nurse who is exhausted. For the Ghanaian who still believes that this country can be better.

Leave something behind. Not another mansion. Leave a hospital. Not another V8. Leave a functioning public transport system. Not another offshore account. Leave industries that employ our children. Not another political monument. Leave institutions that will outlive you. Not another expensive campaign. Leave a generation of young people who can say: “Because of this man, because of this woman, my life became better.” That is legacy.

When You Have Everything, Give Something Back

Money that is taken from the public purse is stolen money. Giving stolen money to who you desire is not charity. Buying a bus with State money for an orphanage is not charity. Giving cash and gifts for votes is not charity. The biggest Cathedral or Masjid from stolen money is a piece of Hell on Earth. That distinction must be made.

If you have millions, ask yourself: How many children can I educate? How many hospitals can I support? How many scholarships can I establish? How many young people can I train? How many businesses can I help create? How many hungry families can I feed? How many lives can I change? Do not wait until death comes knocking. Do it while your hands are still strong. While your heart still beats. While your name still carries influence. While you can still make a difference.

Because there is a kind of wealth that death cannot take away. It is not the money in the bank. It is the life you changed. It is the child you educated. It is the patient you helped. It is the job you created. It is the hungry person you fed. It is the institution you built. It is the road you constructed. It is the honest decision you made when nobody was watching. Not State money; but money from your blood, sweat or tears. That is the wealth that survives you.

Ghana Is Crying

Listen. Just listen. Perhaps if we stop shouting political slogans for a moment, we will hear her. Ghana is crying. She is crying through the pensioner who cannot afford his medicine. She is crying through the mother who cannot feed her children. She is crying through the graduate who has stopped sending applications because he has stopped believing. She is crying through the farmer who cannot make enough to survive. She is crying through the nurse who wonders how long she can continue. She is crying through the teacher who has lost hope. She is crying through the young person who wants to leave the country because he sees no future here.

Ghana is crying. But we are dancing. We are campaigning. We are celebrating. We are distributing money. We are buying cars. We are building mansions. We are accumulating. Accumulating! Accumulating!! For what? For whom? Until when?

One Day, We Will All Grow Old

I wrote recently about growing old. Yes, “like a flower, we bloom. And then later, fade away”. Perhaps this is the lesson we must now teach ourselves. We will all grow old. The politician will grow old. The businessman will grow old. The civil servant will grow old. The rich man will grow old. The poor man will grow old. And one day, all of us will leave.

The difference will not be in what we accumulated. It will be in what we did with what we had. The question will not be: How much did you have? It will be: How much good did you do? Not: How powerful were you? But: Whom did you empower? Not: How rich did you become? But: Whose poverty did you help reduce?

Not: How many people voted for you? But: How many lives became better because you served? Not: Why you chose someone above all others? But: Were you fair in choosing on merit? Not: Why you had someone thrown behind bars or sacked? But: Whether you were working in the interest of the Motherland.

And So I ask Again

To those who have accumulated extraordinary wealth: What do you want all that money for? To those who seek political office at enormous expense: Where does all that money come from? To those entrusted with public resources: Do you remember that they are not yours? To those who see suffering and look away: How do you sleep?

And to all of us: What kind of Ghana are we leaving behind? Because one day, the music will stop. The campaign will end. The convoy will disappear. The office will belong to someone else. The mansion will belong to the children. The bank account will belong to the heirs. The political title will become history.

The body will return to the earth --- Innaa Lillahi, Wa Innaa Ilaihi Rajioon, isn’t it? And the soul will stand before its Creator. Then we will discover what we should have known all along: We were only passing through. We were only custodians. The money was never really ours. The power was never really ours. The country was never really ours. Ghana was entrusted to us. And every trust must be accounted for. So, before that day comes, let us wipe the tears of the pensioner. Let us feed the hungry. Let us heal the sick. Let us educate the child. Let us employ the young. Let us protect the weak.Let us restrain our greed. Let us rediscover humility. Let us rediscover shame. Let us rediscover compassion. Let us rediscover God. And let those who have the power to change Ghana --- change Ghana.

Not for themselves. Not for their children alone. Not for their political parties. But for the millions who wake up every morning still believing that this country can become what it was meant to be. Because the greatest question at the end of our lives may not be: “How much did I leave for my children?” It may be: “How many people stopped crying because I lived?” And when the final account is opened, may we have an answer. May Ghana have an answer. May our leaders have an answer. And may that answer make God --- and the people --- pleased with us.

[Peter Omote, Didas Murungi, Kasasa William, Chris Okpare, et al. --- thanks for the words of encouragement after reading my piece on Growing Old]

FUSEINI ABDULAI BRAIMAH
+233208282575 / +233550558008
afusb55@gmail.com

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