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08.09.2017 Feature Article

“Another Cock And Bull Story”

Another Cock And Bull Story
08.09.2017 LISTEN

The nation is a wonderland, or should I call it a fairytale? I have seen the making of babies and the bidding of farewells to the grave, and I can boldly say without a shadow of doubt that the nation is nothing but a mirage from a panoramic view. I have keenly listened to every single one of them, the men in suit, their long never ending well articulated speeches with complicated diction, one that sounds like a mumbo jumbo in the ears of the farmer down the terrace, the fisherman mending his net over there and the porter who just passed by.

Here they come, riding in their luxurious cars in a quest to seek our thumbprints. The scene, akin to the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. It is as though we have forgotten all that was said during their last visit. That road down the street, the dilapidated market, the muddy water, the dying cocoa trees and the big tree we proudly call our school are all in dire need of urgent help.

A hilarious spectacle to watch, the level of ridicule and exploitation cannot be fathomed. The mockery in their laughter when they sit in the comfort of their homes after their mission is accomplished. Nothing has changed; it’s still the same old story.

I shook my head in agony as I peeped through my window to get a glance at our “Messiah”, coming out majestically from his convoy. His pot belly stomach, an evidence of how much the nation’s cake has gone into his voracious pocket. The vociferous fans, cheering intermittently after every promise, an assurance of their votes. I felt very sad for my “ignorant” neighbours who were enthused by the still born promises unleashed into the atmosphere. When will we learn from our past mistakes? It just another cock and bull story that lulls one to sleep, never remembering it the next day.

I wish I did not have a thumb, but they have made us believe it is our civic duty and right. They write long speeches of how it engages us in the decision making process. Printing my thumb on that ballot paper doesn’t make sense to me, I would rather not embrace that responsibility, either way we will not be part of the decision process. What baffles me are my own people who have been made puppets to these nation wreckers, playing to their gallery and eating crumbs from their tables. You betray us, in our quest for redemption and emancipation from the impoverishment that has been plunged on us. They came to our huts and shacks and preached about poverty. They said poverty is a disease and that they hold the medicine. Little did we know that they were the host, devil in disguise. In this part of the land the book is a weapon in disguise, it is not the gun and the arrow that we are weary of, it is the one who calls himself the educated. Wasn’t he supposed to help us better our lives and lead us to the Promised Land? Yet he takes advantage of his ability to read and write to exploit and toss us left to right. I know ignorance is a disease and a bane to our development but when I look at what these men do, I wonder if being educated isn’t more than that. It is like taking in a potion to become a monster that could hold all the power and live by feeding on other flesh. Even the will of man in Eden to know more and become like his creator cost him so much in life. To some of them, if they could get to the peak of knowledge, the world will become theirs. Knowledge is power but power isn’t about tyranny, knowledge becomes power when it is used to overcome the challenges we face and make the world a better place.

In our part of world when you speak the truth you will be chased out of nine villages. As the truth sets you free others see you to be putting them in fetters. Our ears are inclined to sweet and persuasive tongues and never willing to hear what is behind the darkness. You are seen as an outcast, treacherous and deviant when you refuse to twist stories. Manhood thrives on falsehood, the faithful ones are called weak.

The light is supposed to be set on the hill so that everyone will have the sight to a fruitful life but here in our part of the land they keep the light under a bushel and delight in seeing their people fall in darkness, Knowing that we will go running back to them, a sign of our vulnerability that reinforces their power over us.

I have had one pair of shoes throughout the whole year but when the man I voted for comes around every month, he comes with a different car and an entourage of wives. It is as though he comes around just to mock me of how life has beaten me half dead. Maybe I am being too harsh and envious of his “success” but I see him in a fresh and healthy body thanks to the protein I toil to send to the city, yet I could almost see my intestines in my emaciated body. I see him with a pocket full of money thanks to the tax I pay from the peanut I gain every time, yet my pockets are already developing huge round holes. He has stolen everything from me apart from the vote I willingly gave him. That is why I am not ready to listen to another cock and bull story this time around.

This time around I am showing no interest in the debate of who holds the most efficacious medicine to wipe out the poverty syndrome, I am not going to stand on my feet for long hours to listen to their long and fabricated speeches. I am not going to join the long queues to cast any vote. I am so tired of the deception, the illusion and the lies that have been careful wrapped around the word politics. I have been able to unwrap and unravel to see the truth. I don’t want your coins anymore, I need change and I need it now.

The writer is a student journalist at the Ghana Institute of Journalism Emmanuel Kwesi Gyan

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