Parenting And Schooling At Maamobi (In Accra) In The 1980S And 90S: My Personal Narrative

I was (un)fortunate to have been born to a non-literate mother, Agatha Adjei. But she is a sagacious intellectual as far as faith (Christianity) and Akan cultural idioms are concerned. She is not employed in the so-called formal sector of the economy. She is simply a petty trader who sells consumables right in front of our compound house. As an industrious woman, she complemented the efforts of my late father, Anthony Prempeh, by taking up any legitimate job that would put food on the table. But even in her search for survival, she rarely left the house to work. Her job routine involves going to Accra (township) to buy the items she sells.

Because she is not literate, she only encouraged me to learn hard. When I was in basic school in the late 1980s and 1990s, we were rarely given any homework. In fact, at lower primary at Kotobabi Presbyterian Primary School (Accra), we spent much of our time playing, singing hymns (most of which we least understood). I was aspiring to become a football star, so my concentration while in school was to play football. In class, I least paid attention to my teachers. In any case, I did not understand the essence of education. All I knew was that I had to spend time in school. I was always eager to hear the sound of the bell to go and play football with my friends.

When we got to upper primary (primary 4-6), we were introduced to spellings, reading, mathematics, dictation, mental, and writing. I was still not so much interested in the learning process. Since I had precociousness for football, I was always praying to get the opportunity to play. Back at home, my mother would not stop me from playing football, so long as I did my portion of home chores (washing cooking utensils and fetching water).

My father, however, saw something different in me. He was a standard seven-school leaver, and so he had the intention of pushing me to advance the frontiers of education and to thread the path of education where he never had the chance. Whenever he was around, he made sure I was closely knitted to my books. But since he was formally employed as a clerk and had only weekends to stay home, I had five days to concentrate on playing football. But my weekends were always a mess and interrupted by a father who wanted to replicate himself in me. He would draw me closer to himself to give me home tuition.

He was a brilliant man, but I never wanted his teaching. He was impatient with me whenever I failed to give right answers to his questions. He also had the habit of bringing around one of our neighbours son, who was a year younger than me, to shame me whenever I gave wrong answers to my father’s questions. But I knew how to deal with our neighbour's son, who was called Owuba. I managed to identify Owuba's weaknesses. First, just like me, Owuba loved football. Second, I was a year older than he was. So, I knew that I could utilise my age and my control over football to discipline him. This was because I was also the assistant captain of our community football team (under 12).

So, anytime he responded to my father's invitation to embarrass me, I would use my position as assistant captain to disallow him from playing football the following day. I tried that many times, and so Owuba had to also find a way of dodging my father. It got to a point where Owuba always feigned sleep whenever my father sent for him. In the end, I succeeded in dealing with the Owuba’s challenge. He became a good friend, finally.

But in primary 6, my class teacher, Mr. Marcus Agbeyome, identified a potential in me. He realised that I was good at reading and spelling. So, he decided to give me counselling and guidance. But his style was the same as my father 'spare the rod and spoil the child.' He made sure I scored not less than 8/10 in dictation. Anytime I missed that mark, I was sure to be spanked. I realised he was gradually redirecting my interest from playing football to schoolwork. But, as a young boy, I was praying for God to kill him. I felt he was a hindrance to my budding football career.

Strangely, God never killed him. He succeeded in temporarily steering me away from football. Eventually, when I was through with primary education, I happened to have been among the top ten brilliant pupils in class to proceed to junior secondary school. In 1996, I moved from primary school to junior secondary school at Kotobabi '15' JSS (K'15'). At K'15', I met teachers who also felt I could do better than I was doing. Expectations of me were so high that I simply could not afford to fail. I had to work hard. I also had to ensure that I was either first or second in most of the reading subjects (particularly, Social Studies, Cultural Studies, Life Skills and Vocational Skills). Anytime I performed less, I was sure to be spanked. The situation was such that in 1998, when I was writing my mock exams prior to Basic Education Certificate Examination, I was severely spanked for attempting to receive answers from a colleague who was copying from a textbook he had sneaked into the exams room.

At home, my father intensified his revolution to dissuade me from football. He and my uncle (Uncle Mark, who was a tailor) decided to use some other means to wean me off football. Because of my uncle's profession, he would promise to get me a particular cloth called "Up and Down." His shop was close to my school. And because he knew the date for vacation, he would come to the school to receive my terminal report. If I did well (falling in the range of 1-10) position, I was sure of getting my "Up and Down". But if I fell beyond the range, then I was sure to receive some scourging.

Fortunately, as a child, I had plenty "Up and Down" clothes for Christmas. My friends knew that I was going to show them a new cloth every Christmas. Christmas season often saw me going to Accra Zoo, which until a few years ago, was very close to Maamobi. Kotoka International Airport was also a major tourist destination during Christmas. The airport was open to the public such that I could go into the building to wave goodbye to travellers.

In the end, as a child, I was always compelled to work hard, play less and think of reward. That training had its pros and cons, but eventually it made a difference in my life. But the person who made a marked influence on my life was/is my non-literate mother. She was always available at home to make sure that I went through the thorough socialisation mill. She taught me to avoid vulgarisms. And coming from a community where most of the youth abused illicit drugs, my mother had her eyes preying everywhere to make sure I never joined 'ghetto boys'. I was not allowed to play cards, because some of the areas boys had converted the game to gambling. I could not also play the local game ‘Kase’. Once I was caught playing ‘Kase,’ the consequence was obvious – some lashes. To play ‘Kase’, one need coins to pull out the balls. Since my mother was/is a petty trader, she was concerned about her coins missing. To stop her coins from missing, playing ‘Kase’ was a no-go area for me.

I hardly went home to meet the absence of my mother. She took her time to introduce me to faith (we used to belong to one of the Spiritual Church (sunsumsore) called Prince of Peace). She taught me how to pray. She also introduced me to reading Twi Bible; because I had to read to her anytime we went home from church. Later when she joined the Church of Pentecost, I had to follow her. As a woman of prayer, I always heard her praying about my education, future marriage (yes, she was praying about it even when I was less than 15 years old).

Though a non-literate, she was aware of the importance of education. Anytime the then financial minister, Dr. Kwasi Botchwey, read the annual budget, she would pull me close to herself to ask of the new prices of commodities on the market (I am referring to the 1990s when prices of commodities were given during the reading of budgets. Ghana was then not a full-fledged neoliberal economy). Obviously, I did not understand the language of the budget, but I could scribble the prices of milo, Ideal Milk, Carnation Milk, Milk powder, cocoa powder and powdered coffee. She was always proud whenever the prices I gave her tarried with what she found on the market.

Today, parenting and education have markedly changed. Most parents are professional. Schooling for most children begin as early as age two. It is surprising that at age 4, some so-called private schools introduce children to mathematics and mind racking subjects. Children, as young as 3 years, are given homework. In extreme cases, extra classes are organised for children during weekends and vacations. Parents have literally abdicated their parental duties to teachers, some of whom are poorly trained in parenting. At very young age, children are taught to be competitive not the skill of complementarity. The idea of who is first and who is last is such that children do not develop their sociality in life. They see their colleagues as competitors to undo. I went through the same socialisation, but the near absence of cyberworld (which has accentuated individualism in the world today) in the 1990s in Ghana ensured that I bonded well with my friends. The types of games I played with my friends were collectively and socially oriented to enforce collective living.

The question of language in parenting and education has almost remained the same. When I was in school (basic school), I was also compelled to speak English. This was to the extent that I had to pay money for speaking Hausa and Twi (the dominant languages at Maamobi). But, I was happy to part a few coins in order to stick to my own languages. I personally hardly communicated in English unless during exams. I enjoyed speaking Hausa, Twi and a bit of Ga (which was the language I learned in school). At the end of it, I developed native competence in speaking Twi (my mother tongue) and Hausa (the Maamobi dialect, which I had picked while growing in Maamobi in the early 1980s). Later when I stared writing and speaking English, I applied the linguistic logic inhabited in Hausa and Twi to excel in my English exams (I still may not write the Queen's English with native competence, but, at least, I have control over the Ghanaian-educated English).

Today, most children in urban Accra are introduced to English at birth. It is sad that some Ghanaian languages are becoming endangered because parents no longer speak them with their children. Sadly, some of these parents who speak English with their children are clueless about the grammatical logic and structuring of English language. I remember an incident in a trotro (commercial mini-buses) while I was travelling from Maamobi to Accra Township. A certain man and his female child were also on the bus en route to Accra Township. This was the conversation that ensued between the man and his child (who was jittering):

Child: Daddy, give me my bag and wanted to hol it
Dad: Wait
Child: Daddy, I wanted to hol it; give it me (the child held the bag in protest)

Daddy: leave it I no go take am do anything.
I was angry and nurturing bitterness for the man. But I had to keep my anger to myself. It is now clear in the study of linguistics that a child who speaks his (her) mother’s tongue with native competence can as well speak any second language also very well. The argument is that language is the vehicle through which culture travels, and so when a child musters his native language, he speaks any additional language with ease.

Children who are clueless about their native language are likely to suffer two main difficulties and hiccups. First, they are going to suffer identity crisis. Language encapsulates the innermost meaning of our culture. It also embodies our ethno-vision, culto-vision, cosmo-vision and ethno-philosophy. Any child, who fails to have grips over his native language, is certainly going to be left in the middle of crosswinds of cultures. Fortunately for me, I reason using the logic embedded in Hausa and Twi. In fact, I write English in the same manner I speak Hausa and Twi. I am aware of the debate over what constitutes mother tongue. But for the purpose of space, suffice it to say that mother tongue is the first language a child speaks in a particular linguistic community.

Another challenge children have to deal with is how to skip seeing their colleagues as competitors. Currently, education in Ghana and many parts of the world is structured to create a sense of competition among children. This at face value may not be bad. My only concern is that it kills the sociality of Man. It undermines our willingness to collaborate in birthing and nurturing new ideas. This week, I have been reading Ellen G. White's book, Child Guidance, which was given to Kwame Prempeh as a gift. I read Ellen White's insightfulness about the essence of education. The woman gave a prescient and sagacious knowledge that pontificated that education should refrain from making children see their colleagues as competitors to undo. Education should instead teach children to appreciate the need to work in a team to achieve a goal. Recently, Singapore has taken a step to redefine the evaluation of students (which aims at blunting unhealthy competitiveness in education). I add that education should also harmonise theo-centrism, ego-centrism, and eco-centrism. I wonder what will shape the future thought pattern of children today, most of whom are very clueless and blatantly ignorant about what it means to be members of their native communities.

My mother’s lack of ‘formal’ profession was key in my socialisation. But we need to come to terms that the irresponsibility of some men has meant that my mother’s job can hardly support the family today. The traditional family structure where women perform expressive duties, while men perform instrumental duties can no longer be sustained. We need a revolution that would birth institution to make up for the social reengineering of family. This means I support women to take up formal professions. I definitely also support women to join the 'formal' world of work. I am currently undergoing the intellectual guidance of a brilliant professor, Joel Marie Cabrita. Consequently, I will be happy to see institutions that will complement the effort of parents in the upbringing of their children. The news that many children in Ghana are developing bad habits because of less contact hours they have with their parents is very disturbing. We must do something about it. Durkheim's notion of differentiation should be reevaluated to salvage children. I salute all women who are combining the pursuit of career and parenting. It is such an enormous challenge that the state must intervene to help. Fathers must also redefine their parental role to support mothers. In the end, there should be complementarity in parenting.

Satyagraha
Charles Prempeh ([email protected]), African University College of Communications, Accra