A Vulture
Listen to the sad tale of women at the back of a recent street demo, 34 years into the 4th Republic.
‘I want to tell the President, and I beg to say, if I don’t speak well, please forgive me… (voice shaking). I want to ask the President: has he cancelled freedom of speech? If it’s been cancelled or withdrawn, he should let us know; he should tell us so we learn how to express ourselves… Life is tough in this country. That is the problem he should solve… Nobody is buying our wares… they are not buying…that is what he should solve. Not rampant arrests…(akyekyeakyekye) .. If freedom of speech has been withdrawn, he should tell us, so we know how to speak.’
Another woman, approximately 40: ‘Our eyes are red… we women… just check the colours we wear: black and red…We plead with the President… even if things did not go well with our speaking, we humbly plead; we are all his children, we are all one people… he should stop the rampant arrests… arresting our people… this is stressful.’
Another: ‘When we complain, they say we can’t talk…how do we express our opinion? Why allow this widespread stress in Ghana? (Afono yen), we are fed up…drive away the stress, let’s feel free.’
Finally, this old man: ‘These days they say you will be arrested if you speak about Mahama… I won’t speak, but I have only one request… JDM, please buy me a car,’ said a 60-year-old man, declaring his priorities.
Why are women’s voices particularly important to the nation of Ghana? Numerical majority. Overwhelming illiteracy. Censored by unfriendly language at formal forums: often ‘borɔfo nkoaa’; only 15% representation in parliament. When free speech was offered by the Constitution as a Gift, emphasis was on ‘Freedom and Independence of the Media’(Article 162). No direct reference to free speech (except within parliament). We simply have an arrogant constitution, written with an elite mindset.
Ghana’s Constitution has simply failed the ordinary man. Social media, with all its excesses, at least gives voice to the ordinary man: it says ‘express your raw wishes in any language.’
But listen again to the voices above: the unusual plea to the President: ‘even if our speech did not go well, please forgive.’ Women are aware they may have erred and not shown the normal cultural courtesies in speaking about elders.
Even so, Ghana, have we disappointed the silent downtrodden? Freedom fighters have recoiled into their shells after wiping their mouths. Is anybody home? ‘Kurom aye dinn’. Where is civil society: NGOs, the clergy, the Catholic Church, ‘the Fix Ghana’ forces, and their empty stomachs? ‘Kurom aye dinn. Yafunu no ayɛ ma.’
Where are the disciples of Ghana’s Free Press: Kweku Baako, Kofi Coomson, Kwesi Pratt? We miss you. Many are retired, but where is the new generation? 1994, I visited some of them at James Fort Prison while they were remanded and awaiting trial for a 2nd-degree felony!
‘Free Press’ and ‘Ghanaian Chronicle,’ did you fight in vain? Their offices were shit-bombed in 1994 to silence them.
They returned to fight on. Where are the likes of Kweku Sakyi Addo? 1997, his classic GTV Program ‘Kwaku One on One’ was taken off the screens. Prof PAV Ansah, the late ‘Saltpond Boy.’ It is not yet Uhuru. We miss his new generation. Ansah was the chief gladiator of Free speech. Even while he was battling stroke on his deathbed, PAVA was also battling press tyranny.
Has criminal libel law not been repealed? It has, but still, Kuromaye dinn.
What of the Mirror, the state-owned weekly that boldly hosted the Kwesi Yankah column for 10 years (1986-96)!
Kurom aye dinn.
It is understandable. New generations of champions may be too busy fulfilling a cultural imperative: ‘the good child does not talk while eating.’
Or this religious etiquette: ‘Ghanaian Media is in its Holy Temple: Let all the world be silent before Him.’
Media insults do not necessarily offend the law, but are simply unacceptable in civilised society. Smart politicians only wear thick skins, pretending they are deaf to insults. In crowd behaviour and processions, abuse and even obscenities are sometimes a breath of fresh air to society.
Busia regime 1969-72. He drove past the Kaneshie market every morning coming from his Odorkor home. Avoiding the use of convoys, Dr Busia joined slow traffic, and every day endured poetic abuse of ‘Busia Naabu’ merrily chanted by market women with reference to the Prime Minister’s puffy lips. Never did we hear a ‘Go for them’ order. No complaint, no arrests.
Also, Nana Addo’s father, Edward Akufo Addo Ghana’s ceremonial president. His modest neck profile in popular culture became the new name for Ghana’s mini club beer. ‘Give me one Akuuf’ was the routine order at the Legon cafeteria. No censorship, caution, nor warning given: ‘the wise elder pretends he has lost his hearing.’
Towards various elections since 1992, songs of abuse and death wishes abound: ‘Kill JJ for us’! At the historic Kumi Preko demo in 1996. ‘O Lord, kill Nana Addo for us; he is destroying the nation.’
Then a scandalous death wish directed at Bawumia, in addition to several spouse-centred abuses. Poor Samira. And when the police arrested one blogger, DMB intervened, pleading for his release. January 2023.
The famous eight Chiana girls, who took turns on social media to hurl abuse at Ghana’s foremost Gentleman, President NADAA, including ugly references to nether parts of the human anatomy. Public outrage followed, weeks of consultation, then dismissal letters from authorities.
Thick-skinned President Akufo-Addo feigned deafness; he abandoned meetings with the IMF and came calling for clemency: a mature democrat aware of risks in the game of politics.
Now this one in 2026. A heavy downpour of vulgar insults on President JDM by women bloggers. Clearly crude and unacceptable. But it is widely known: social media is not a textbook for exams, meant to be swallowed hook, line and sinker.’
It has its own world of make-believe and constraints. A rude gentleman squatting on his WC in Atlanta may, in full view of global cameras, choose to defecate on any revered King or chief; or even spit on a paralysed president in a wheelchair, or even defile a global religion from a safe distance.
That’s social media at work. Rampant arrests in these hard times sound like beating a hungry boy and suppressing his tears. The vulture of silence has no place in today’s Ghana.
As to where the vulture truly belongs, I leave that to Bukom Banku, who would point to the Vulture’s true home: Dansoman Borla, Brodo sɔɔnnn.
Bad news for Ghana’s democracy. The Vulture of Silence at work.
By Kwesi Yankah
