“For all the bad things Ibrahim Mahama did against people in this country, thinking he is above the law to mess up the country taken it as his very own procession, has finally been court up in the Justice System by a brave Judge and sent to serve in Prison. Bribing the major parties in Ghana did in the end not help him as we all one day get the bill for our actions and have to pay for our wrong doings; Ministers being scared of him to speak the truth about what they know, fearing they could eventually lose their jobs, is finally over…they are set free,” did Fred Hanoh lament pulling out from underneath the bench a bottle of fizzy drink to make him sustain the night with open eyes and sharp mind.
“I was hearing, he is still walking around the streets of Ghana, even travelling to UK to join his younger brother Samuel Mahama that has messed up people and was asked by his family to bring himself into security,” entered Mama Dora, the head of the female Prison Ward across the dried, brownish lawn once planted and intended to be a football pitch to entertain the Inmates and distract them from bad thoughts easily to be encountered in the small encroachment behind Prison walls. “In Ghana rich people buy their way out from serving in prison.
They have the money to find mercy in the eyes of Prison Officers for them not having to encounter the hardship of our Prison System. Yes,” she added looking down into the corners of the room in search for cockroaches that were massive to be found during the night next to the Toilet that was old and dirty while she preferred to use nature for her body demands to keep her health,” money can buy anything in this country. In Europe or America, no matter who you are, a Drug Dealer or a President, you find yourself in Prison and serve your term under the same conditions as all the rest of the society that violated the Law. Here in our Ghana…oh, GOD, have mercy on the black man, nobody cares to the letter about anything as long as money and power can talk.”
“We Blacks create problems for ourselves, and not the White Man,” Officer Kwame Nkrumah-Ampong added, getting up, leaning against the open window overlooking the prison grounds screening every corner to see that peace has taken over the place until morning would come. “If only we would learn from the White Man, copy him, improve on the mistakes he does, we…believe me people,” he turned round, stepped on a cockroach running before his feet ending its life,” believe me…in that case we here in Africa would be far, far advanced of the White Man.”
“Only when someone has the right mentality, he can add knowledge to it, than become wise and have good ideas which can make him in the end a rich man or a rich nation,” said Fred Hanoh resignative, got up, stepped out of the sticky, damp hot room to get fresh air. “I cannot understand, why we Blacks cannot change our mind and become the best people and societies in the world. It all depends only on us!”
“Did someone of you get the last salary?” asked Mama Dora around while fighting off Mosquitos.
“The Government is owing us salary for the past six months and keeps promising to pay us our outstanding salaries and allowances,” complained Officer Kwame Nkrumah-Ampong with grim expression in his face. “Ghana is simply bankrupt, must have been closed down long time ago if this would have been a private company. We only survive based on beautiful words and promises of Politicians even we know much better that their words are cheap and useless. Nobody of them cares for us as long as their pockets are filled. Forget about them all. We are simply too stupid to take the fate of Ghana back into our own hands and establish a system with people that truly can help us to bring us into a good future. So, it is us people of Ghana to be blamed for that we move around cycles.”
“We have to go back to the streets and ask for our money as I cannot go on like that. My family depends in the money I work for, here behind these walls,” said Mama Dora. “I have to pay school fees for my three children; the so called future of Ghana as we hear every day on TV. How can I pay for their education when the Government is not paying for my work?”
“The cat is biting itself into its own tail,” laughed Officer Kwame Nkrumah-Ampong. “We move money and ideas from the right pocket into the left and vice versa ending in stagnation…and in fact moving backwards as we live in this world not in isolation but in global competition for the place close to or even at the Top.”
“To think about Ghana and our problems too much, dear friends, does it matter or does it change anything?” asked Fred Hanoh looking down on himself counting the bottoms at his shirt discovering one was missing. “We like used things, used ideas and used concepts and repair whenever we can…but innovation in our society from within is nowhere to be found.”
Henry Asante was not able to sleep, pushed James Adjei, laying shoulder to shoulder with him on the hard, blank concrete floor with even not a single cloth to separate the body from the cold building material smelling the sweat of all other forty Inmates disgustingly in his nose, hearing the Mosquitoes flying over them in their numbers, feeling the heat of the small room all over his body, and whispered:” I wish I would be a Murderer in a German Prison cell, nice bed, nice room, Toilet inside, TV and Computer available to be used on a small table in the prison cell, School to learn for the future, Social Workers to help after release from Prison, a good Medical Ward for First AID, three nice meals every day and much more.”
“Are you asleep and dreaming?” asked James Adjei concerned feeling the head of an Inmate on his head as they had to sleep in two lines of twenty persons each like Sardines in Human Blood squeezed into a small Room suitable for two, maximum four people. “Or you have HIV?” was he joking.
Henry Asante tried to turn around to face his friend which was hard to do without having to wake up others and laughed:” Dreaming means the Soul is capturing the Future as my Prophet Emmanuel Badu Kobi in Sakumono is always saying.”
“You really believe that you can dream your problems away so that one day the conditions of Prisoners in Ghana will improve?”
“When you are sentenced like me to the end of your road in life, Hope is all that makes you survive in this world,” answered Henry Asante with suppressed voice. “In Germany a Murderer gets out from Prison after fifteen years for sure, once he has proven during his imprisonment that he has seen, confessed and regretted his dramatic mistake made and will come out from prison as a changed man able to fit into the society again and contribute his part to its positive development.”
“In Ghana nobody cares about you when you are in prison and when you are out again,” lamented James Adjei saddened.
“A society is only as human as it treats the most afflicted, disabled, imprisoned, handicapped, mentally challenged and so on…something we have no mind and no idea for. We are too selfish, so no reason for which GOD has to let us come out of our poverty. Only people connected to him, in line with his words, have the right to move into his richness, blessings and grace.”