MOBO time is here again!

The annual MOBO awards show will take place tonight in the rather interesting location of Glasgow, Scotland. In case you are scratching your head wondering what the MOBOs are, MOBO stands for Music of Black Origin (MOBO) and according to the good people over at Wikipedia:


Of course the term 'black music' is completely ambiguous to me. In fact, discussions of (so-called) black music remind me of an amusing meal-time conversation that took place in my first year of undergraduate in the US. We were all having a lively music discussion at dinner one evening when a 4th year student at the table (whom we will call 'Devika' for this story) declared:

"No offence Abena, but I really don't like black music!"

Me (to myself): That is such a shame! I will be sure to let everyone know at the next meeting of the Black People High Command since I'm clearly representing all black people on the planet at this precise moment in time!

Devika: "Actually, coming to think of it, I like Prince and Michael Jackson so I do actually like some black music"

Me (to myself): Whew! What a relief, almost thought we lost one there.

So what is 'black music' anyway? Is it music performed by black musicians as Devika seemed to think? This raises some fascinating questions. For example, the British Indie Rock band Bloc Party is fronted by a black man Kele Okereke so does that make their musical genre 'black music'? Okay, so maybe Kele Okereke alone is not sufficient to turn the whole band black. So let's say Kele formed a new band made up exclusively of say 5 British guys of Nigerians descent playing only Indie Rock music do they then qualify as a 'black music' band?
Besides, isn't rock-n-roll music of black origin anyway? Didn't Elvis Presley basically mimic some of the black contemporary artistes of the time? These are some of the reasons the term 'black music' is still foggy in my mind.

Anyway, back to the MOBOs. A couple of years ago, a new category was added to the awards which was Best African Act. This was meant to showcase and honour some of Africa's finest artistes. In 2007, Ghana's very own (Batman) Samini was the proud recipient of this award. I was very excited at the time since I used to have a massive crush on Samini dating back to his performances at La Pleasure Beach with KK Fosu and Kokovelli. Ahhh good times...

Above: Batman Samini at the 2007 MOBOs
SOURCE: BBC Online

According to the MOBO website, the 2009 nominees for Best African Act (shortlisted by public vote....somewhere) are:

• Eidee (Nigerian artiste heard him on the BBC this morning- pretty good stuff)

• Mujava (South African DJ)

• Nneka (Half German - Half Nigerian soul singer)
  

• Oumou Sangare (Malian traditional music songstress)
  

• Salif Kelta (I think the MOBO people meant Salif Keita, one of the undisputed Kings of contemporary Afro-pop music)

I'm sure some Ghanaians are up in arms that no Ghanaian artistes made it on to the nominee list. But are we really that surprised? Are there any Ghanaian music acts of the moment who can really stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Salif Keita or Nneka?

In a convoluted way however, Ghana is well-represented at the 2009 MOBO through some of the hottest UK hip-hop acts such as Dizzee Rascal (who is apparently half-Ghanaian) and the newest grime sensation you may never have heard of Tinchy Stryder (real name Kwasi Danquah). Other UK grime/hip-hop acts Lethal Bizzle (real name Maxwell Ansah) and Sway (real name Derrick Safo ) are also past MOBO winners.

So now I'm very curious now, can anyone think of a Ghanaian artiste who has been overlooked for a MOBO nomination this year?

Giving Thanks on a Blogoversary!

September 24th marks one year of my blog! Well, to be honest, I started this blog in 2005 under the name “Procrastinator's Paradise”. Sadly, I abandoned it only after a couple of posts and someone stole my name!!!

Exactly one year ago, a harrowing stressor made me hit a very low point and *strangely* blogging was a real cathartic release. So in celebration of one year blogging I will like to give thanks to so many who have inspired. Thanks go out to:

• The two unnamed people whose cruelty and self-centeredness combined with my own naivety taught me a bitter life-lesson and provided the spark that got me blogging to cope with the utter shock of being played. Interestingly, I have never blogged about these playas since the topic of self-absorbed unfeeling vain bastards has not come up yet.....*yet*.

• My friend C who first introduced me to blogging but seems to have abandoned her blog featuring fascinating musings out of Atlanta, Georgia
  

• The wonderful people blogging out of Ghana who have taught me about the fascinating, cerebral, diverse individuals in Ghana. Especially my fellow bloggers over at Ghanablogging.com. Of course a special mention to the indomitable EK Bensah who first introduced me to the group and featured me in the Sunday World. Thanks to my fellow bloggers for providing me with endless hours of procrastination with their entertaining posts and challenging comments.

• The Ghana Police Service for providing protection to our great nation and for providing ample blogging fodder from our numerous interactions

• My family, especially my mother who prompts me to lie when she calls me and asks "I hope you are not blogging" when I am.

• My friends for encouraging me to blog especially El even though he thinks I'm crazy for putting a picture of my street on the internet.
  

• My beloved Ghana for providing too many situations that prompt laughter, thought, frustration and the need for commentary.

A special thanks to all those who read my ramblings, you are truly appreciated!

When Samia met Abena: Two Daughters, Two Legacies and One Meeting

Between waves of stomach bug-induced nausea this past weekend, something caught my eye in the Saturday's Daily Graphic newspaper (19-9-09). According to an advert in the paper, the popular TV3 interview programme Kwaku-One-on-One hosted by seasoned journalist Kwaku Sakyi-Addo was scheduled to have two guests. One of the guests was going to be Hon. Ms. Samia Nkrumah, Member of Parliament for Jomoro and only daughter of our first president Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. The other guest was Professor Abena Busia, Professor of English at Rutgers University and daughter of Dr. Kofi Abrefa Busia, Prime Minister of the Republic of Ghana 1969-1972.

During their lifetimes, Nkrumah and Busia can best be described as political adversaries on opposing sides of the political divide. On the one hand, there was the Nkrumahist ideology: the leftist, pan-African socialist force that led us after independence from 1957 until 1966. On the other hand, there was the Busia legacy: the liberal democratic right of centre force, that underlines the 'Danquah-Busia' political tradition and is associated with the Kufuor administration from Jan. 2001 to Jan 2009. So despite, my weird stomach bug and promises of a scheduled power outage by the Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG), this was one show I did not want to miss.

Yet I missed the first 5 minutes. I missed the initial exchange of pleasantries as both women in their beautiful afro-centric themed outfits recounted their first meeting sometime in 2007 or 2008. Their smiles were beautiful, the atmosphere was warm and one thing I noticed was how both women bore striking resemblances to their respective fathers.

The first sign of controversy revolved around a statue. In 2007, a number of parks in different regions were renamed Jubilee Parks as part of the celebration of 50 years of Ghana's independence. This included the Kwame Nkrumah park in Sunyani, the capital of the Brong-Ahafo Region. A statute of Dr. Busia (being a son of Wenchi also in the Brong-Ahafo region) was erected in this very park. Apparently they are calls to rename the park and remove the statue. Prof. Busia was appalled about being called by radio stations to answer whether she felt that the statue should be removed.

Ms. Nkrumah agreed that the park should revert back to its original name while Prof. Busia did not see why the statue would have to be removed. After all, is her father not one of the most famous sons of the Brong-Ahafo? Ironically, Kwame Nkrumah can also be credited in creating the Brong-Ahafo region in the first place. During the commercial break, the two women came to an interesting compromise; maybe the park can be renamed Kwame Nkrumah (Jubilee?) Park with the statue of Kofi Busia allowed to remain. They both laughed at how little say they actually have in the fate of the park or the statue.

Most of the show was devoted to both women recounting their differing stories of forced exile and the bravery of their respective mothers in the face of family upheaval and adversity. They talked about the effect of the political turmoil in Ghanaian history on their own family units.

I learnt something very interesting from the programme. According to Prof. Busia, in 1959 when her father escaped from Nkrumah's Ghana, the person who warned her father about impending danger and precipitated his exile was none other than Kwame Nkrumah's ebullient loyal minister Mr. Krobo Edusei. Imagine that?!

The tone of the interview was civil, conciliatory, full of stories of separate but paralled histories and also quite emotional. Both women avoided the finger-pointing that is so characteristic of Ghanaian political discourse today. The show convinced me more and more of something; we need more intelligent, strong women as political leaders in Ghana. Ms. Nkrumah has made already made a brave and dignified entrance into the murky Ghanaian political scene and I quietly await Prof. Busia.

Prof. Busia and Hon. Ms. Nkrumah. Unfortunately, the positioning of the cameras meant that we got more side views of Ms. Nkrumah more than anything.

The Photograph of Kwame Nkrumah in the Album

In a dusty, browning album belonging to my late father, I found the above photograph of the first President of Ghana, Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. The album, covered in red psychedelic flowers houses my father's pictures from the mid-1960s up to 1973. The photos follow a natural fashion time-line and show how extremely tight -fitting trousers, beehives and mini-skirts gave way to unkempt bushy hair, bell-bottoms, afros and platform shoes. It's like Austin Powers meets Shaft all in Ghana. Interestingly, completely absent from the photos are any indications of the dire social and political turmoil that characterized Ghana during this period. There was the overthrow of President Nkrumah in 1966, the Busia era from 1968-1972 and then the military coup orchestrated by General IK Acheampong in 1972.

Somewhere in the middle of the album is the mysterious photo of Nkrumah. For a few years I have looked at the picture and have wondered:

• Where did my father get the picture from?
• Where and when was it taken?
  
• Do the kente cloth in the background and the coat of arms on the front of the podium indicate that it was taken in Ghana?
  
• What was the speech about and who were the audience?
  

So many questions, so few answers.

For the generations of Ghanaians born after the death of Nkrumah, we have learnt that he was an extraordinary man of vision. Not only did he possess great foresight but also charisma and intellect. He dream was not only for Ghana but extended to a Pan-African ideal of a united continent.

As we celebrate 100 years of the birth of Nkrumah next Monday, I have made a pledge to myself to find out as much as possible about the man. After all, most official historical accounts are free of the complexities surrounding Nkrumah's personality . Just like the photograph in the album, for me Kwame Nkrumah remains largely a complete enigma.

Postcard from the Edge

It is strange to think how a quiet Tuesday morning can start with your biggest worry being the fact that your roommate took too loooooong in the shower finishing all the hot water and making you late for work. As the day progresses, this concern completely evaporates as you wonder if you will ever get to shower again. You are also griped with panic and fear that the very roommate you were snappy with earlier in the morning over a shower, may be buried under the rubble of her work building. As night falls, you are still coming to terms with the very bitter realisation that the world is not a kind place after all.


We did survive that day and the months that came after. My roommates, our friends, coworkers and families all managed to pull through. New York survived. The city was completely shaken but bounced back more resilient, more vibrant and (strangely) friendlier. But not everyone was so fortunate. Over 3,000 people perished as result of the September 11 attacks. It took just one fateful day to change the world forever. Eight years on, I'm still in awe and still lost for words at the complete senselessness of the event. I'm also trying to remember what New York was like before 11 September 2001 and then I find a reminder in a drawer at home. A postcard:

Postcard from the Edge...of Manhattan: The New York Skyline at night before 11 September 2001 with the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center seen clearly


We laughed, we cried, we fought but we were there for each other. The dear roommates from Steinway Street, Astoria, Queens
(Left to Right ) Nabyna, Wendita, (Me) & Laurena
I just hope they don't kill me for publishing this picture online

Third World Living: Mesmerized by Road Works

I have always hated the expression the "Third World" . It seems so condescending and patronizing yet it has an undeniable ring of truth to it. We do things differently down here and not necessarily in a good way! Anyway, Saturday morning brought much joy to my neighbourhood. The sound of loud machinery and the smell of tar signaled the start of road work on our street and the adjoining road. I should explain that we have had a house in our 'hood for over 20 years and have endured all the dust, dirt and grime that comes from living close to an un-tarred road. We have even put up with the endless fake/pretense moves to tar our roads. I cannot even begin to count the number of times some truck has arrived under the cover of darkness around 3am to dump mounds of sand on the street as part of a scheduled job that never actually happens. Eventually, a contractor will run out of money or something else will come up and the road work will be postponed.The strange thing is that most of the roads in the wider 'hood are tarred! Note: I'm ignoring the scary potholes -the -size-of-moon-craters-issue because that is a whole different topic.

So when real road tarring started on Saturday morning, it was hardly surprising to find people in our 'hood had pulled up chairs by the roadside and were eagerly taking in all the action. I myself watched completely mesmerized and in awe for a whole 10 minutes without moving. I was half-expecting street hawkers to show up selling plantain chips and cokes to the gathered crowd. By the way, how is it that hawkers always know where the traffic jams are all over Accra? That is something that has always baffled me. Back to the road...while we watched, my mother pointed out with amusement that it was like we were all transported to the pre-independent Gold Coast where the inhabitants of a remote community had gathered to see a tarred road for the first time in their lives. Yes, it was actually that exciting!

Our freshly-tarred adjoining road. So beautiful to walk on.

But...it was all too good to be true. My new-road joy has already turned sour. Although our adjacent road is complete and has already turned into a speed demon's Grand Prix highway (or more like Grand Pricks highway), our actual street has been left abandoned. Apparently the contractor has run out of supplies. The road is half-tarred, half-complete and not a single peep about when work will continue. Now ain't that Third World living for ya?!

This is not a shadow. This is the Yin-Yang pattern that is now our street!

Policemen at the Barrier Part 2: House-Call from the Boys in Blue

Kotoka International Airport (KIA)

I seem to be having lots of run-ins with the "boys in blue" aka Ghana's finest aka Ghana Police Service. Our last encounter was at the airport 3 days ago when they supposedly caught me on a traffic violation. Much to their irritation, I refused to acknowledge I was in the wrong and argued with them for about 30 minutes. Of course, in the end one must obey The Law.

Anyway, two days ago, there was yet another interaction with the upholders of the law but luckily I was not home. My mother was just about to enjoy a lovely morning bath when she was told that 3 gentlemen from the Ghana Police Service had arrived looking to have a word. When I heard the story I had assumed that my belligerent encounters of late had been entered into their nifty database and they had used geographic information systems (GIS) and satellite-mapping to pin-point my location. Okay, maybe that is just my paranoia talking.

Anyway, my mother was a little concerned about the visit and since she was just about to step into the bath, asked the house-help to find out what the problem was. The officers declared that they were the delightful public servants who had been at the neighbourhood barrier for the past 3 months and had served and protected the community from thieves. Alas, they were now on their way and so were bidding the 'hood farewell through house-calls. I wish I was there for that moment. Madonna's I'll Remember must have been playing in the background or some such song lamenting the sadness of a parting.

Through the house-help, my mother asked them to kindly hold on while she finished bathing. Fortunately for us, the boys in blue calculated:

Unnecessarily delays (UD) => are inversely proportional to the number of houses to visit (NHV) => which are also directly related to the volume of expressions of gratitude (EG) likely to be received. The equations can be simplified to:

UD =1/EG

Having done rapid mathematics, our visitors abandoned waiting and left abruptly in a huff.

Personally, I'm hardly shocked by the shameless house-call by law enforcement officers to guilt-trip individuals into providing gifts of gratitude for them doing their job. Not shocked but amused, disturbed and slightly saddened.