KUMASI, Ghana—Against my better judgment, I've decided to tackle a subject always on the tongues of those talking about African politics. In fact, I'd like to pretend I know little, or nothing, about the political environment here.
First, I must say before I start: I love you Ghana; I love you Ghanaians. Ghana will forever be a home to me.
That said, Ghana is corrupt, and at every corner.
Here is a typical example. The current government made the admirable decision to implement the National Health Insurance Scheme, a scaled down public health insurance program that anyone can apply for.
I recently gave $20 to a friend so she could go get a health card. She paid the $20 to get the card "quickly" and returned four days later with the card, some paperwork, and an official receipt—for $12. It seems the people working in the health card office are supplementing their meagre income by offering quick service to those who are willing to pay $8 extra. Even the local pharmacist charges a $2 fee for filling out the form, which is illegal.
This is how nearly everything works here, from the Kumasi Metropolitan Assembly's granting of permits, to the passport office's visa renewal system, or the police department, who routinely stop drivers at random to extort money (no ticket is issued, nor does anyone expect one). Corruption is so common, people rarely complain.
When they do complain, people are so surprised that it can be surprisingly effective. My friend, the owner of an Internet café (the one I am typing this article in), threatened to sue Ghana Telecom because of the erratic and unreliable DSL service. She made such a stink that she now has the office and cell phone numbers of everyone from the technical support team to the "big boss." And when they come to Kumasi, they come to visit her personally. You just don't sue people in Ghana. But maybe you should.
Two Systems, One Problem
It seems two conflicting systems are at work here at the same time.
On the one side is the traditional system. In traditional Ghanaian culture, there were no paid jobs per se. If you wanted anything administrative done, you would pay for it in goods. The responsible official would be someone appointed to the post by the local chief. Officials would receive lands, but not official income—the income would come from those petitioning him for something. This kind of "dash" is still expected by some people, even though they now receive salaries.
On the other side is the British colonial system, which the less educated view as a tool designed to control and oppress them. It is basically our system of inflexible rules and heartless regulations. But here is the problem: for the British system to really work in Ghana, common people would need to know how to use it, and jobs would actually have to pay enough to support an individual, which they don't.
After so many months here, I have basically worked out a 10-to-one ratio. Whatever would cost one dollar at home will cost ten cents here. This holds for many goods, especially food, but not for meat or milk, which cost from half the price to about par.
So do the workers earn about one-tenth our salaries as well? Unfortunately not. That ratio seems to be about 20 to one.
Working Double Time, at the Same Time
Many people work two jobs as a result. No, not consecutively—concurrently. This means that you may show up at somebody's office during business hours and find them out. They are at their other full-time job. Want him to show up? He will ask you: "I heard you were in Accra. What did you bring me?" Yes, I am quoting someone who will, of course, remain nameless.
This makes efficiency impossible, except when you are willing to pay for it. I'm not suggesting every person or office has this problem, just most public service departments. I am ready to back up this statement up with several embarrassing personal experiences I will never mention provided the government of Ghana dashes me something. I am saying this with a smile, but my hand is still outstretched. [Editor's note: Zoe's request for dash in no way represents the views of this newspaper.]
Would you like a journalist to cover your event? When leaving any press conference in Ghana, journalists are presented with an envelope, the size of which may determine the size of the column or news clip your cause receives. Have I ever accepted an envelope? I'm not telling, and I'm not telling you which high profile media members I've seen accepting them either. [Editor's note: Zoe has not accepted any such envelope; she promises.] It's not their fault, reporters say; "It is customary." Besides, many journalists intern for years and are expected to live off these envelopes alone.
Customer Service Reprehensible?
If hearing how Joe Public is milked in Ghana makes you feel superior and smug from your comfy North American chair, I have some words for you: "service charge," "cancellation fee," "annual renewal," "overdraft interest," "insurance premium," "access fee." Should I continue?
Let's admit it. In North America we have legalized this kind of exploitation. We are choked by corporations and governments who, like thousands of leaches, suck amounts just small enough that the cost of a lawyer seems unwarranted and we are all too tired to fight about it. When coming across corruption here, you will feel just like you are on the phone with the people you paid $180 for a five-year warranty on your leather couch. Yes, mine is in storage with a rip in it after seven months on the phone.
To Serve and Collect
A few years ago someone broke into our place in Canada and stole 20 thousand dollars worth of studio equipment during the day. None of the cameras showed the goods leaving the building. Clearly the stuff was in someone's apartment. The police who arrived did nothing. Did they look at the tenant's list and search for any convicted thieves? No, they couldn't. Did they knock on a single door? No. In Ghana for $50, 10 officers would temporarily suspend the constitutional rights of everyone in the building until the goods were found.
Actually, that is how you press charges in Ghana—bring money to the police station. Forget about costly lawyers and a trial. Money talks. My next-door neighbour was arrested by an old friend after a financial dispute. A bribe was required so he could return home. No judges were involved.
Another neighbour took 30 cell phones, sold them, and neglected to repay the owner of the phones her share of the profit. It was a cash trial. $1000 was needed, plus a $500 gift for the police. The $500 was asked for overtly, without shame, as if it was due process.
Clearly, this system favours the moneyed. So does ours. You readers live in a country where the person with the better lawyer usually wins and where laws are changed by lobby groups who fund elections. We hide our corruption in the fine print. Sue me if I'm wrong. See! You just can't afford to do anything but write a letter to the editor. Please do. At least he will know someone has read my column.
Actually, what I like about Ghana's brand of extortion is the customer service. The person who is wringing money from you has a face and a name, not a website and an anonymous customer service representative. You can get their cell phone number and call them at home until they get your electrical service hooked up or speed up your permit for a signboard.
There is another element of Ghana's national character we will save for next week. You won't see Ghanaians going to war, nor will you see much violence or overt thievery on the streets. Those things are considered crass, and the criminals are seen as stupid. But trickery is respected.
Next week we will talk about my connection (in name) to the notorious conman Ackah-Blay Meizah, and Kweku Ananse, the clever spider whose fairytale exploits have travelled everywhere the Africans in the diaspora have.
Canadian Epoch Times correspondent Zoë Ackah is spending a year in rural Ghana. This story is part of a series in which Zoe shares her culture shock and her thoughts on life in one of West Africa's more prosperous nations. See the "Related Stories" links above for more articles in this series.