Scramble For The Makola Wig: Delusions Of A Learning Colleague

Limping down the Makola lane, in our sweaty voguish suits, we seek neither Brazilian hair nor a tent to set up shop, but a chance to be crowned with the sacred grey wigs borrowed from the silky scalp of our foster mother’s head; a craft which our ancestors freely wielded, to which they plied their divine ministrations, but in which we now pray the mercies of our own mother to partake.

The lofty praises, the bounty cases, the good graces; oh, the goodies of the wig! These hopes may very much linger with the prospective lawyer until the bare reality soon squashes him, lifting the once-soothing veil of desires and exposing him to the torturous nakedness of fierce scramble for the painfully scanty nominal space at the Ghanaian bar.

Indeed, for some law students, the gloomy reality of possibly missing that dream call to the bar fuels the will to consider anything that lessens the competition and promises the slightest chance of making it to the Ghana School of Law after attaining their law degree. And so that once-cherished learning colleague may as well become the one obstacle that must be subdued to prop one’s chances.

Regardless of the exigencies and uncertainties of our legal training journey, however, there is, or perhaps ought to be, a time and place for such introspection. Whether or not to preserve the priceless relationship or network we may have built with our peers is a choice we would have to make and live with. In my estimation, for example, it should cost nothing to share an idea on a subject matter expected in an assessment; even in the almighty Makola entrance examination! After all, our application of the law to even the same issues may vary substantially from colleague to colleague.

Perhaps the surest reality of learning dawned on me when our freshman-year first semester examination results were published. For a moment, I stared with particular indifference at those curvy alphabets ascribed as grades to some of the courses I took in an undeniably gruelling semester. If it were graduation day, my cumulative grade point average would have earned me a Second-Class degree; not exactly what I had hoped for, although my past assessments have always set me out as an average student.

I could have chosen to grumble over my ‘poor’ grades as some colleagues did, perhaps sag my head in tears and pity, or coil up and shirk interest in any further coursework. But no, I didn’t. I had no reason to. Instead, I posed these questions to myself: What impact did I make on my peers in the semester? How much did I truly learn? If it were indeed graduation day, how had I set myself up to make it in the real world?

I have always believed that success is hinged on a multiplicity of factors. While I very much believe in making the best grades, I have also maintained that it is equally important to build stronger ties for life. Even so, it is essential to weigh and judge for oneself how much one is practically taking home from the whole learning experience. I had learned early enough, that I might not be the student who aces all papers or privileged to wear the noble Makola wig; but I wield the power to make a priceless mark on the life of a learning colleague.

Sadly, the cultural demands of our educational system appear to cast shadow on these essential ingredients of learning; yet they remain some of the prime movers of success as we know it. The moot court activities, those group discussions, sharing a lunch, even the soirees; they are inseparable from any idea of a balanced education, and very much capable of setting us up for life.

And yet the naked quest to book a place among the brilliant, that unyielding desire to distinguish oneself as astute, the thing that makes one want to preserve one’s own ideas and live off those of others; is very much alive in us. Like cancer it is capable of subsuming the unsuspecting colleague. It is the curse of our foster mother’s wig; the wig we so desperately crave to wear.

I, too, am afraid of tomorrow, believe you me! I fear that I may never become that lawyer I imagine for myself. But the worst of my fears is what kind of person I might become to that brother or sister next to me. As we learn to pray the lords, may the law of humanity be with us, and lead us not into the courts of division.