Ghanaians to stop the copy and paste

"The best way to know what you are talking about is to know what you are talking about" - Harvey Mackay

Imagine a function where the Keynote Speaker walks up to the podium, greets and starts talking to the people without reading any book or making any reference to any sheet of paper yet is able to talk within the parameters of the subject matter. Don’t you think the Speaker will capture the attention of everyone gathered there? Again, Imagine a Lecturer who walks into the lecture theatre without any note or pamphlet whatsoever yet is able to deliver satisfactorily? Don’t you also think that the awe and the interactive style will get everyone glued and attentive?

This is Ghana where most of our functions or events such as weddings, sod-cutting ceremonies, graduation ceremonies, commemoration of milestones, funerals, fund-raisers, naming ceremonies and Town hall meetings are marked with pomp and pageantry. The array of bright and colorful indigenous wears mixed with the stylized western ones on display, the cocktail of music and the grace with which the people mark these events is just a sight to behold. It is an experience everyone should be opportune enough to have, at least once in their lifetime.

However, there is one thing marring these events and that is the act of script reading. There is often that time of the programme where a big man comes to engage the people by delivering a keynote address to highlight the essence of the function which ostensibly becomes the part that takes the shine off the function by making it drag, ordinary, boring and tedious.

Interestingly, these speeches only vary per the thrust of the function where they are delivered at. The speeches which appear as though they are sourced from the same template are relatively the same and uninspiring. The uniformity of these messages also makes it possible for the audience or participants to predict what will be read at which function which in turn makes them uninterested and playful. 

It might interest you to note that should you attempt to attend four different weddings in a day, you will hear almost the same speech being read through it all albeit slight variations due to change in names and venue and same can be said for other functions. The uniformity which also gives the listeners who have listened to the edict since time immemorial the possibility to predict what will be read results in the audience engaging in other things such as walking in and outs of functions, others visiting the washroom or talking to each other or not paying attention. It becomes the time when people catch up on anything they may have sacrificed thus far.

Why do they come to the function with scripts? Why do they come to read verbatim prepared notes whose source we cannot authenticate? Even as it were, do they prepare their own speeches or the speeches are handed to them as they prepare to mount the podium as happened to Mad. Victoria Hammah, an Erstwhile Deputy Communications Minister? 

For a long while, I have been wondering why these supposedly experts who are even paid to deliver these speeches in most instances come to the people with a long boring essay they mostly appear to know nothing about. It is convenient to say they mostly know nothing about these scripted messages because they don’t fare well in the interactive or breakout sessions when the floor is opened. Given that these Experts who have been carefully chosen are on top of their games, why then do they have to come and read to us when they could just come and deliver their keynote addresses? 

Interestingly, most of these people can chat unend without any cue because the topic under discussion is something they know too well. It is something they have experienced or understand very well which is evident in how they contribute and deliver during chat sessions. They do not even bat an eyelid in an attempt to talk about their experiences which includes what they know so why the torture when it comes to public delivery?

At this juncture, I am of the convinced that these people who come reading to us do not know what they come to read to us. That is why they come with scripts. It is why they don’t even take their eyes off the script. It is why they avoid our eyes. It is why they bury their heads through the ordeal of reading their handouts to us.

Undoubtedly, everyone who has been elected to deliver a keynote address is worth his or her sort per the function under context and such moments certainly highlights their efforts with regards to their career build-up so coming around unprepared only seems a child play. It is rightfully so without mincing words because people do not go into interviews with referential materials unless it is otherwise stated neither do students go into exam halls with their revised notes. 

These are moments of truth. Time to test their know-how and how well they know what they are supposed to know, so why can’t it also be moments of truth for these keynote Speakers? Why can’t we change the face and approach to how some of these things should be done since society is culturally constructed? Why can’t we introduce a little bit of creativity into our functions where everybody’s delivery time and style will be unique per their personality and what they believe in except if they have to refer for facts and figures?

We have to allow them to come and tell us just what they can remember so everybody will know what they have been up to. We have to see them fumbling on the podium so everybody will know how responsible and competent they are. We have to see them scratching and hitting themselves when they can’t remember anything proving that they are not conversant with their job. We also have to see them when they stand on the podium without a clue as they turn blue.

We all know everyone can read. Everyone can just walk into a programme and be handed a note to read but that is not what we want or the way to carry on. Speakers must be prepared beforehand to be able to refrain from reading to their audience which behooves everyone to know what they are about before coming to mount such podiums. We want to be treated as discerning people. 

Don’t you think the change could see an exponential increase in people being a tad responsible and accountable? Yes, it will change the monotony and drag in programmes. Functions will be characterized with diversity and flair. They will also become interesting because you are certain to hear something different than listening to Speakers read from the speech template. The change will guarantee that only competent people lead or engage us. It will also guarantee a kind of quality in our functions and we, as a people will never be the same again.

Follow the writer on Twitter @vilejah

The blame game

The first stop Gotti made was at the Black Kettle - a little snack joint in his neighborhood they prefer to call Café, but upon second thoughts he decided to move on to a bigger and a popular place, preferably a restaurant where his chances of making it would be more of a possibility than a probability.

Ever since his keen resolve to accept responsibility for every action and inaction of his, he’s been keener on making it materialize before dawn. He is resetting sail. He is tired of blaming his parents for his predicament and has resolved to redirect his venom to any unsuspecting entity. It has to be someone other than himself or his family.

Courts are lined up with aggrieved parties seeking redress for something they ought to have been

responsible for and School drop-outs are blaming their teachers for cracking the whips. In other instances, folks are cussing and blaming stuck doors that won’t open upon their shove and drunk drivers are blaming the Ministry of Roads and Highways for deliberately digging potholes in the middle of the streets. Likewise, ill-prepared folks who get themselves stranded and beaten by the rains are blaming the Weatherman for not ensuring clarity in his reports and Workers Unions are also suing their employers as though there were no agreements before their engagements and nothing seems to make sense.

The country is rife with non-existent jobs and the question has moved from who is being lazy or not, so he has to be strategic enough to get by. By all means necessary he has to keep his head above the water levels. Everybody is blaming the President, just somebody, and here he was blaming his poor Parents all the while.

He loathed himself for being oblivious of the obvious. And, how come no one has prompted him that it was unhealthy to be responsible for every action and inaction of his, all these while? Gbetor m3 nyo! Could this possibly explain why the newlywed who lives next door is always blaming their families for putting them to it without accepting responsibility for still being together and Frankie also holding on steadfastly to religion so he can easily blame his faith for his ineptitude and shortfalls? 

Why does the truth make one feel like a fool, because that is what he is feeling right now.

Enough is enough! He is going to make some money tonight from being irresponsible for his actions. And when all is said and done, he will compensate his parents with thirty percent of his Judgement debt for all the wrongful accusations and the blame game and keep the rest of the seventy percent for himself. The thoroughly planned and much awaited road trip with his fiance has to finally come off before the week ends. The thoughts of them jollying about, only succeeded in strengthening his resolve and it must come to pass!

He finally slowed down and stretched his neck to see if there were oncoming vehicles upon reaching his destination. You can never tell, so he is being extremely cautious. He cannot risk being knocked off by one reckless driver who will deny him his due and additionally blame him for being the cause, so he looked to the left, then to the right and finally to the left again before crossing over to the entrance of the busy restaurant.

He pushed the door gently and entered, quite nervous but resolute. He will not entertain any cold feet now, so he moves straight to one of the empty spots in the room. He is about to order a cup of hot tea and spill it on himself and sue someone. Simple as that! And backed by a good Lawyer, he is certain of being compensated at all cost. It is just a matter of time and the owners of the place would be begging him to drop all the charges he intends to raise against them. His Grande launch into this countrywide blame game only made him relish the days ahead.

Let the games begin...

“Waaiiter!” he called out to no one in particular and leaned back into his chair with a smirk on his face.
 
 Follow the writer on Twitter @vilejah

Review: The 2014 VGMA in retrospect

It’s the aftermath of the Vodafone Ghana Music Awards 2014 (VGMA) and as usual, I am coming your way with society’s thoughts and mine ofcourse!

First of all, I would like to blame His Excellency, President John Mahama for allowing Vodafone and Charter House to subject the good people of Ghana to this ordeal. Next time, the Presidency should do well to integrate these aspects of happenings into the National Security itinerary. We need to be safe!

On to the show itself, it appeared amateurish after fifteen years of successive organization. A supposedly national show of this magnitude as the name depicts should come very organized because the brunt and all the criticisms stops at the doorsteps of Brand Ghana. There was no interlude for cultural displays such as Adowa, Borborbor, Kpanlogo and what have you, yet there was a Ghana Music Awards? I do not think that is all we have to offer as Ghanaians. 

Apart from the show coming to an end, I would not say it was a success except for some amusing moments to those who chose to be amused and those who chose to be irked by some of the stunts that were pulled by all the variables - Masters of Ceremonies (MCs), performing artistes, Winners of the coveted awards and Charter House alike.

I would not profess to know much about Event Organizations neither will I pass for any good director but I saw everything live and colored on my small TV and can say the show was more of a Music Fest than an Awards night. An awards night should be straightforward, devoid of innuendos unless the show is celebrating something else.

The Masters of Ceremonies (MCs) were flat and rigid. There was no cohesion between them and they lacked the flair to move and direct the crowd which was their prime objective. Instead of adding tad oomph to the show, they took away everything with their unprofessionalism. That bit about Iyanya’s stale relationship and the bit about him almost becoming our in-law while introducing the act was bewildering especially if the relationship was debilitating to him. I am sure you would agree with me that it threw the artiste off balance and probably accounted for him jumping around like a besieged toad. Simply, they did not really appear prepared.

The line-up of artistes for the night was too exhaustive with regards to the allotted time for performance. Methinks, it would have been business-like if they were allotted a limited time or asked to perform only two songs each or the number of artistes was rather reduced with much allotted time. I can only say R.I.P. to all the artistes who could not even mime but chose to shout as though they were not the recording artistes of the songs they performed. It is one thing to have a hit song and another to have a hit act. 

Apart from a few artistes like Sonnie Badu, Sarkodie, Samini, Mz.Vee, Stonebwoy who stood out even though they did not bring much aboard to keep us talking, the rest were a flop. And these people only stood out because the rest were mediocre. Talk about Castro who came to cheer lead the crowd and waving handkerchief as though we were at a retreat. For a hip/high life artiste who was not performing anything Borborbor, I must say it was Somewaybi.

The red carpet session was not timed and evidently, it dragged into the night which affected the closing time. Either being on the red carpet should have started earlier than it did or truncated after a while or better still continue interviewing the folks backstage while the show is on-going. Even though most of us are not interested in who they were wearing, we still insist that if it must be done, then it must be done well.

Going forward, it is worthy to note that a Psychic would be needed in the future to foresee inappropriate stunts such as the one which was pulled by Elikem-the-Tailor who also is the only Ghanaian to have made it to the Big Brother Africa Finals. As though the ambush advertisement where he was seen asking his fiancé, Pokello Nare to turn around for all to see how creative he can be even though he did not miss the chance to talk about his creativity on the red carpet, he went ahead to turn the supposedly national Awards night into a night of marriage proposal. I am wondering how the Awards night would have panned out if everybody came upstage with their ring to show how romantic they can be. Seriously, his demeanor on stage was somewaybi.

What accounted for all the potential winners who were nominated but could not make it to the Awards night? It is either they didn’t take the whole show serious or the Organizers did not take them serious. And to think that some of them were present but could not walk upstage to pick up their awards smacks of arrogance. The night was supposed to be one of the biggest nights in their Career, not ours. They have to be admonished to take themselves seriously.

In same vein, I am still trying after about 72 hours to fathom the reasons that would make an artiste with the highest number of Awards not go home with the coveted Artiste of the year Awards? How did Shatta Wale with only two awards ended up being crowned the Artiste of the year at the expense of Sarkodie who picked about four awards? Does that mean an artiste with just one award can also walk home with the Coveted Awards on a very good day? In other words, Charter House must do well to erode all the controversies that surrounds this scheme by coming out with clear cut criteria because it’s serious business.

Charter House also lost the plot by not doing anything humanly possible to avail the man of the moment Shatta Wale at the show. Shatta Wale should have performed because it is convenient to say that he was the only one who could have moved the crowd. Charter House did not make that possible simply because they are comfortable giving us just half baked foods. 

Clearly, Charter House is always getting away with their blunders but somebody tell them that the sum of the parts amounts to a whole. Maybe, I am being sentimental but I think Joey B driving home the Hyundai i10 was undeserved. I stand to be corrected but how many of Joey B’s song projected him to be the new discovery of the year at the expense of the sensational Bisa K Dei?

Maybe, Bisa k Dei and Stonebwoy with his Taribo West-like hairstyle who also went home with ten fingers must learn how to say pussy in their songs because sexually suggested songs win. Entertainment is entertainment and not a moral road show. Format a hard drive, say pussy and Voila!

Did I miss out on the Vodafone Icon, Funny Face, after the red carpet parade? You would have thought that somehow the Vodafone icon would have been fixed somewhere inside the programme but you can't always find reasons to justify why bad things happen to good people.

Stage Management was also substandard. Unlike other Awarding Ceremonies, there was only one stage with dim or very bright lights and all we had was one entry door which made it possible to predict where the act was coming from. It is also imperative that the organizers add more award categories to the existing ones and be mindful of their timing. If a programme is scheduled to close within three or four hours, they have to do well to keep their word and we just might also take them serious and contribute our quota as audience and observers. And oh the least said about MUSIGA’s in all of this, the better! 

After all is said and done, I would like to congratulate all the winners, not forgetting Charter House whom i will give a ‘C’ rating.

The Untold Stories

They say its attitude, I say its perception!

I must admit most of my write ups are usually not for public consumption but somehow they find their way into the public domain. The need to keep at least those I deem inapt for the public is because they are laden with too many of my warped view of the world - my disappointments, dejection and rejections, gloomy moments and some little successes which are not detailed enough or anything worth highlighting. 

On the other hand, I think I can quickly hazard a few guesses why my subconscious still makes me publish some of these write-ups instead of keeping them to myself even against odds. Firstly, it’s because it makes a lot of sense to hide our valuables in plain sight which is rightly so because the more we look, the less we see. Chances are also that you may overly get used to it and probably write it off at your own peril.

Secondly, I think I have been using diaries incorrectly. I remember the good old days when it was fashionable to own one, year after year. The prestigious feel of either carrying the pocket sized ones along or coming back from the hustle to write in them. However I think I have outgrown writing in them.  I simply can’t make do with the care and security that comes with it any longer; the fear of someone unapproved reading my failures just yet. The handful bright moments and the fleeting aspirations, not to talk about the penchants and the wavering emotions as they delve into my innermost quietude without my consent or any interaction whatsoever. You can say I have become paranoid and you are right.

Thirdly, I think I want to be a part of the struggle. I want to hone my voice till it becomes loud enough to be heard. Keeping my muse to me is negative energy hence the need to contribute my quota. I am mostly aware of my limitations but I don’t see how it affects my efforts at trying. I can talk about the ease with which I can easily reach out rather than being sought for, the technological advancements, the new world order and what have you but unfortunately, it is not the import of this piece.

Sometimes, I think I talk too much but I always marvel at my invisibility anytime I take a trip through Twitter Avenue and Facebook Crescents. Herh! People can talk papa. The way they seemingly appear as all-knowing, having a thing or two to say about everything, professing theories and beliefs as though they are the second coming makes me think that we all talk too much. The only difference herein is how group dynamics affects our interaction and the way we tend to adapt. 

The difference thus affects what, where, when and how you choose to express your opinion or present your facts and the number of people you are willing to engage at a given time and still not losing sight of the fact that these interactions are somehow guided by (common) Laws.

There are so many things we don’t talk about especially in the public domain but feels comfortable talking about all day with a friend or two and I am confused as to which one is better. In same vein there are so many things I have not talked about publicly or at least with you. For Instance, I have not told you that I sometimes get disappointed when I remember all the numerous ladies, both young and old who used to call me My Husband when I was just a child. I have not told you that my dream of becoming an accomplished Musician is only short of someone believing in my potentials and giving me the platform to work on my lots, neither have I also told you that the dream is in limbo just because way back in 2008 when I met the then celebrated Jay Q, he insisted I sang in Twi which already had a Market against the backdrop of my (global) English stance in the quest of creating my own market. But If only I could  come across the people who produces and manages acts like D-Black, Asem, Nana Boroo, Akoo Nana, OJ Black, Tinny and other artistes of their ability, that singular dream could be realized easily but I am hanging in here and hoping…

Ever since I became privy to the fact that silence being golden does not mean it is gold in itself, I changed my mind - simply because the Gold fascinates me way pass the glow.  Yeah, that is the only enlightening thing about being enlightened. Changing your mind as and when new perspectives are illuminated. Going with the flow in a steady pace while still being mindful of the race.

They say life is short, live happily, cut yourself some slack, don’t be hard on yourself, don’t wallow in the past, develop an attitude, don’t complain, be thankful, say your mind, develop a sense of humor, start new things, go downtown or uptown (depending on which divide of town you reside) from time to time to acquaint with life there, eat healthily, Exercise a lot, dare to dream, laugh heartily, take vacations and capture bright moments but unfortunately, most of us are living contrary to this long list of what can make life thick and enjoyable for humans.

They have failed to prescribe another list of to-dos for those of us who are living far from this myth. They have failed to provide for those of us who can’t think past what to eat and where to sleep. The irony of working all day everyday yet can’t make ends meet juxtaposed against those who are working less of the time but have more to stash away simply because the former is touted as not working smart and other readily plausible explanations.

At least we could have a list that reads like, wake up before it is actually time to wake up or wake up even though you hardly slept, wake up to other noisy neighbors screaming at a stray animal or their children, work all day every day because it is good for your spiritual upliftment, eat less nutritional foods in messy surroundings, take selfies even though your face is wrinkled and your smile is wry, perpetually be inclined to the past, don’t save, refuse to have a sense of humor, don’t ever call over friends and family over to merry with you, have apathy for success, refuse to be a Socialite and at worst be a Masochist. We are obviously on our own.

We are continually faced with so many things to say – social issues no one cares about. These and many other issues which have become our untold stories simply because it does not put bread on anyone’s table, neither does it affect the price of kenkey.

There is so much to say but in the light of developing social trends, it is also worthy to note that some of our stories will forever be untold even though someone must hear us by all means necessary. And while at it, let us also be mindful that of all the things that can elude us, we have to steadfastly hold on to hope and positive self esteem in its right proportion lest you are declared the official douche bag of the Century.

Follow the writer on Twitter @vilejah

The Running Man

He ran home as fast as he could, panting like a hunting dog feeling accomplished after pinning down its game. He dashed straight to his door and reached for the knob as he frantically dug into the back pocket of his faded denim Jeans with the other hand for his key.

After what seemed like ages to properly insert the key into its hole, he opened the door with ease, entered and slammed the door into its frame behind him as though he won't go out again. He would have still been turning the key in its hole like a demonstration globe in its axis if it was his former lock set. He's had nasty times with that lock but the most embarrassing of all times was the day a borrower followed him home for some money he owed the latter but for some inexplicable reasons, he could not open the door until after three or more hours. And I am not even about to delve into what transpired in-between the time he was battling to get the door opened. Times have been tough and rugged. He must be thankful for the seemingly little things such as changing the lock just last week.

All the while he was ripping the door apart, his neighbors were just looking on as though there was nothing distressing about the young man's activities. It was his umpteenth time so they were used to it.  Sometimes he barged into the house with the whole community in tow and other times it was the Police. They were used to his showmanship and his adept ways of solving his fallouts with members of the community. He is terror personified and no one dares to meddle in his affairs.

He sat on his single bed and fell on his back. His breath uneven, sweat breaking into tiny bubbles, eyes wide open as he stared into the Ceiling.  No polished or patterned ceiling to draw him in or play tricks on his mind. Apart from his double bulb holder that has held his ever faithful blue bulb and the remains of the fan hook where his spoilt fan used to hang, there wasn’t much to see anyway. His mind was blank indeed.

 It was just another passing moment in his neighborhood except this passing moment occurs one too many times. He loathed his community and longs to see when things will change. Longing for days when water will flow through their taps again. To see days his beloved community will stop experiencing erratic power supply to prolong the life span of their electrical appliances and gadgets. His community must have a recreational park like any gated community. They should even have a Football Park. The days where every nook and cranny will be rid of the decaying blue kiosks that will do anything for money even if that includes selling alcohol to minors. And Lord knows they have been responsible for far too many deaths in the community than statistics can avail.

He despised his community. It was a congregation of people who think alike. Everybody seemed to be thinking as though they have been programmed. He doesn’t even know which one of the two words best suits them; Clowns or Clones.  They all do things the same. No role models. For a community that has the presence of the Police even more than a barracks can contain at a given time, members of the Community are locked away in Cells and Prisons every day and sometimes without offences. Your looks are enough cause for concern and the perpetual fear of waking up to traumatic experiences such as people vanishing without a trace and in extreme cases people dying without a known cause. A community where the Police never finds the culprit in murder cases.

He doesn’t want to think that they have been forgotten by the Government because that would be tantamount to sentencing legions of generations into perpetual physical and emotional pain. He even recalled hearing the President in the recent state of the Nation Address the other day on his old President TV reassuring them of good times ahead.

It must come to pass! This is non-negotiable. The government must pull them from their predicament and there shall be no more sixteen and Seventeen year old proud mothers who do not know a thing about babies neither will there be ladies bleaching their skins any longer. They need good schools like any other community because the fight for survival has become global. They must also celebrate birthdays and take vacations just like his friends from the other side of town.   

No! He is not a coward as his friends from the other side of town like to think. They only front because they don’t know what it takes to be at the battle front by default; just by virtue of your bloodline. He is not always running around and through the community because he has athletic prospects. It’s because he has seen enough trouble to last him a lifetime and tired of having one more. Unlike them, no one will come for him should he be whisked away so none of their taunts will get to him neither will his new accolade of a Running Man  deter him from sticking to his guns. 

And until these things have been provided somehow to drastically change things considerably and to level the playing field for him and his friends from the far end of town, he will be running with all the speed he can gather home, to his room – the only place he can find peace and he doesn’t care if his perceived cowardice or actions are justified. Infact, he must run until he finally runs out of town.