Thu, Dec

When I wear a mask in town, I am the odd one out nowadays. I am the paranoid too-known who can’t stop talking about Coro-coro. We have nationwide Covid fatigue, at the wrong time,...

Viral Alert

The Aviation Road runs at a right angle to the Spintex Road. One is tarred and usable; one is a wet weather disaster. In the last two weeks, two parties have campaigned on both. The first one was cacophony on a Saturday morning. A motley of bandana wearing, motorbike riding, party colour clad cross section of Ghana chanting political songs. 

And these potholes, and sinking sands, will persist until the power mongers cede initiative once more to the resource planners. Until then, I might have to accept the rivulets that plough valleys on the dirt road outside my house and the potholes waiting to gobble my tires.

On Democracy

There is a nebulous transition zone between Legon and East Legon. Somewhere as one leaves the University Gate, crosses the dual carriage and gets onto the long winding road of an affluent Accra suburb, the grounds of the university ends and East Legon begins. The wealth does not exactly reflect in the roads, and one notices the abrupt end of the order and lay out of the university, as buildings bulging with commerce, tussle on both sides of the narrow roads for every inch of expensive prime real estate. And here, some buildings ooze wealth, and class, and attainment, and some don’t.

And it is the small steps that count. We can only win the small battles, one after the other, and hope that they ultimately culminate in a win, until the next battle begins.

Little things. Image credit - coverghana

I went back to Battor Catholic Hospital last week. It had been a long time. I walked through the main gates with my family, and for the first time in 14 years retraced my steps from the consulting rooms, through theatre across imaging and to the living area. As a newly minted medical officer, right after my internship, I was privileged to start my growth in these walls. I made that trip hundreds of times during 2 years. And with each trip I grew. With each surgical case, each person I would talk to in the consulting room, each wound I sutured, every incision, every mistake… I slowly matured. I was pampered, in retrospect. There was a family of dedicated doctors, who would not let me face a problem alone. Coming back, and meeting some members of that family, still working away more than a decade later was humbling. The hospital has continued to flourish.

When George Floyd died, we frowned in concert; we trumpeted our disgust at racism. We may have found national high horses and railed at the wickedness in the hearts of a few policemen. Maybe we forgot what ...

Image credit - insight GH

There are times when humanity scares me. Not as much its presence as its absence. It is intriguing, what dehumanization does. We are human beings, and without humanity there is a certain state of being that is difficult to describe. There are some days when we are reminded suddenly of how completely humanity can disappear, and what capacity for evil resides within. Then we have to look directly in the chasm of this absence, and yet live on. There are the days when we have to remember, that the fact that humanity has dissipated from some people, does not mean that the world has lost its entire plot. These past few days have been like that for me.

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