I have been away in the United States attending the wedding ceremony of one of my daughters. It was successful. I did what any father would do for his daughter and she looked so radiant and made a very beautiful bride. Although I was jet-lagged because of the long flight from London, where I had stopped to rename the Prince of Cambridge without success, I still had a good time. At least it afforded me the opportunity to stay away from the internet and the vilifications some of you have heaped and continue to heap on me since I became the Mayor of Accra. It appears some of you naturally don’t like me and I don’t know if it’s because of the beard, or the fact that I do very little work and talk too much.
During the wedding, I must say, I stayed off the internet for as long as I could. I made sure I did not come within an inch of it, especially when I could imagine the sort of things that might hit me from some of you. But on Sunday after lunch, I decided to check happenings back in Ghana and Accra. And what I saw made me cry the whole night. And it had to do with a simple decision to rename the National Hockey Stadium after Professor John Evans Atta Mills. I was shocked about the reactions that came from you, my people.
Some of you had issues with the decision to change the name from Theodosia Okoh to John Evans Atta Mills. I’m shocked at you people. That woman gave this country only a flag:Red, Gold and Green. And who said none of you can draw the flag of Ghana? As a child growing up in Ga-Mashie, I used to draw the Ghana flag and yet nobody talked about it. So, why this wave of nonsense from all of you fighting for a 91 year old woman? I was shocked, to say the least.
First and foremost, the decision to change the name was appropriate. Several factors influenced the decision to change the name. Professor Mills plucked me from obscurity from the US to Accra and made me Mayor. I was just an ordinary school principal holed up in a two-bedroom flat with my wife and children. And my salary was just a meagre one. But things have changed for me, more than four years after becoming the head of this city. I look back and I realise life in America was tough. I was struggling.
But then Professor Mills came to America, he met me and promised to change my fortunes if I supported him. Did I look back? No. I must confess I was a bit apprehensive, especially because of the wave of support the then NPP government appeared to have. I was also wary because the former taxman had made two attempts at the presidency and failed. But he kept the faith and told me ‘Ghanaians are on our side.” Fortunately, we won and he fulfilled his part of the bargain by thrusting me into the position of power.
On the day I was nominated, I was so excited. I didn’t sleep the whole night. It was a party time at home. And the day I was elected at the Assembly was the happiest day of my life. I was in full praise of my Maker. The party I had that night was gargantuan…profligate spending be what. And don’t remind me of what the late Professor said about excessive spending- I ain’t buying that. The bottles of beer, wine, champagne name it, were in abundance. Even my beard was dredged in wine. All this while, my mind was on one thing-walk into that office around the Bank of Ghana, take the big man’s seat and issue instructions. After all, the bigman has arrived.
How do you expect me to pay the man back? Professor Mills, whether dead or alive, deserves more than a hockey stadium named after him. He deserves more. That’s why I don’t understand the rubbish from you people. Didn’t I say the hockey pitch was still in the name of the woman? It was only the facility that I named after him. The grass still bears the woman’s name. So why the crap? You people got me upset. I nearly lost my ‘balls’. It sounds like a joke but I nearly did. Not to even talk about me wanting to chop off my beard.
The most annoying part of the criticisms was the many calls for my removal. Especially that socialist journalist who enjoys life as a bourgeoisie- I mean the guy who runs the newspaper office at Kokomlemle, even calling for my head. Who can remove me from my post? I’m not boasting but that office is mine until such a time I say I am tired. That will not even happen.
I’ll rather he focuses his energy on his two page communist branded tabloid that doesn’t carry any message, apart from an advocacy for incarcerated Cuban nationals languishing in an American prison, who are not going to be freed anytime soon. He should focus his attention on getting them out of jail. I’ll not tolerate his acerbic attitude.
And I also read about an invitation from the FlagpoleHouse for a meeting. I lost my cool. Who is that PB guy to summon me to answer questions about the decision I took? Where was he when some of us were busy swearing on our balls to do everything to help the late Professor to become President? Or is it because of the position he occupies?
I should be coming home soon and will not even bother wasting my time to meet either him or any of those guys he’s surrounded himself with. Meet them for what? When I arrive in Accra, I’m going straight home, motorcade in the lead. I’ll be in my office the following day waiting for anyone to summon me over the decision I took. That will not happen. Nobody questions the Mayor of Accra and PB should get that.
It must be made clear to them that renaming edifices, streets and anything that takes my fancy is one of the policies I intend implementing during my second term and nothing, I repeat, nothing will stop me from achieving that. In the coming days you’ll hear from me. Even his own name (don’t ask me who) will be changed under my watch.
Until I come down to Accra, enjoy the filth!