Ghana is having a toxic love affair with plastics

Ghana has a troubled relationship with single-use non-biodegradable plastics; the ones we barely use but toss as waste into wherever. As if we’ve sold our conscience and soul to plastics, we’ve allowed it to gain a grip over our lives and we can’t seem to shake it off. We’re on a path of destruction with the continuous use of these things that do not melt to become one with nature. It appears that we would rather prefer to hold on to this dysfunctional toxic love affair with plastics until they destroy us. We’re so much in love with the convenience and money-making opportunities of plastics to the point that our leaders are eager to delay filing for divorce from the little monsters.

Enters ‘From plastic waste to cash’ campaign:

Last Friday May 18, the Vice President John Dramani Mahama sweet-talked Ghana about plastics, contrary to his previous position of a possible ban. He was at one of those speech-making events. This time, it was to launch a programme with the theme, “From plastic waste to cash.” In his speech, he



cautioned us all, according to a GNA statement, “......that government would introduce stringent measures against the production of plastic materials if no substantial improvement in attitude was recorded after six months of nationwide public education on its menace.” Fair enough. We’ve been cautioned! Or maybe it’s just a sad joke?

In effect, the VP told us, Oh, let’s wait small before we take a bold decision to ban plastics. After all, people can make money from plastics! We should give our many unemployed youth the chance to collect plastic waste from gutter-to-gutter and exchange it for cash to realise their own Better Ghana Agenda! What VP Mahama should have said in plain words is: You see, folks – this is an Election Year so we must necessarily delay taking a bold decision until later later later, if ever! Ghana can survive choking on plastics – a little longer. Votes are too precious to sacrifice for mere plastics.

We all know the dangers of our actions:

You don’t have to be a scientist to know that if we continue on this path of mindless use of non-biodegradable plastics, the future of the 238,540 square kilometres finite size of our and will be nothing but bleak. The President of Ghana knows this. VP Mahama knows this. Former presidents Kufuor and Rawlings know this. The farmer knows this. The market woman knows this. The professor knows this. Engineers know this. AMA, KMA and all metropolitan, municipal and district assemblies know this. The Environmental Protection Agency knows this. The Ministry of Environment Science and Technology and its intelligent bold Minister Ms Hanny Sherry Ayittey know this.

Teachers know this. School children know this. Parents know this. Fishermen know this. Plastic bag sellers know this. Sachet water and plastic bag manufacturers and sellers know this. The unemployed unemployable quarter-baked literate youth know this. I know this. You, dear reader know this! The rich people who live in castle-like homes know this. Kayayee know this. The homeless and poor know this. The alcoholic soaked on ‘apketeshie’ kill-me-quick knows this. Ok, you get the point. We all know this!

We know that we’re doing wrong for Ghana. We know that it’s a wrong-headed act of national foolishness and that this act of commission with the continuous and indiscriminate use of non-bio-degradable plastics will result in ‘unprecedented’ destruction of our land; yet……yet….!

Last Sunday, I was in church and it was announced that three grown-up children of an elderly couple have all delivered babies. The congregation clapped; I sat confused, lost in thought and mused to my naughty myself, No wonder Ghana’s population continues to increase! The three new innocent entrants to Ghana must be busy now adding their own plastics and diapers that may not decompose long after those babies have become adults and departed this earth.

In World Bank-speak, our toxic love relationship with plastics is not sustainable. We cannot forever continue on this same path. Sooner or later, Ghana must go the bold sensible way of Rwanda that banned single-use plastics six years ago. Sustainability means that if you continue on the same path, at some point in time, sooner or later, something will have to give. I don’t know what will give. But I know and you know and we all know that something tangible will give way. The earth can take so much more of our non-biodegradable plastics.

We may have an insatiable appetite for single-use plastics that we toss into the earth mindlessly. But without being a scientist, it’s more than obvious that when we continue to dump something into the earth that the earth cannot chew, there’s no way the earth and sea and rivers will suddenly change their grand minds and decide to learn to chew or swallow plastics. Animals are choking on plastics. Fishes are choking on plastics. Plastics swim in the sea as if they’re fishes! Then, periodically, the sea vomits our plastic trash on shore and seems to say to humans, “Take your filthy indestructible monsters away!”

Without a doubt, this plastic campaign is short-sighted for standing on one leg. For something that is this much destructive, collecting them for cash is not enough. Multiple strategies must be employed in tandem. They should include reducing the use of non-biodegradable plastics, adopting alternatives when necessary; banning those that must be banned; promoting waste separation at the home front that is cued into the waste collection stream; and introducing a stiff enforcement regime even in a country that boldly displays indiscipline in all fronts.

Plastic ban must be an election issue:

But then this is an Election Year. Nothing bold and sensible will happen. But plastic ban must be made an issue for politicking. Every single vote will count on December 7. Dear reader, since I’ve no doubt that privately, you’re also alarmed and worried at the rate at which we’re dumping non-biodegradable plastics into mother-earth, look out for candidates and parties that come up with clear and decisive plans about what they’ll do with plastics.

Make this a condition for placing your precious thumb against their photographs/names on Election Day. Don’t vote for candidates who do not care a hoot about the frightening state of plastic garbage in Ghana. Use your thumb to say no to the creation of plastic cities, plastic towns, plastic villages, plastic farms, plastic rivers, plastic markets, plastic schools, and a plastic life style.

Meanwhile, we’ll wait and watch for November 18, the 6^th month anniversary of the launch of this intense public education campaign to turn plastic-waste-to-cash to measure its impact. Our eyes will not deceive us. We will know if our undisciplined bad selves have changed and we have less plastic waste in our gutters, by the roadsides, a reduction in the flying-saucer plastics; and if people are making money from collecting plastic waste, the little monsters.

The major problem with November 18, the evaluation point of the campaign, is that we will be 19 short over-heated nerve-racking heart-thumping days to the D-Day of December 7 General and Presidential Elections when the little matter of plastic waste and its potential to choke Ghana would be too inconsequential. It’s the earth and rivers and sea and gutters and roadsides that will suffer. Ouch!

Taking a walk through Konadu’s garden

 Taking a walk through Konadu’s garden

Imagining life as Mrs Rawlings

It’s easy to condemn people for what they do if you’ve not been in their shoes. But it’s not easy to be in another person’s shoes because shoes are tricky things. Ladies’ shoes are the worst; uncomfortable, wicked-heeled and not very sensible. But I feel competent to imagine life as Mrs Rawlings. Why? I love flamboyant headgears. They cover up my usually unkempt nappy hair. Without a doubt, fine headgears turn the African woman’s head into a gorgeous crown of glory; a visible halo.

History versus her-story:

The word history originated from the history of men (his-story) because it’s a man’s world. Men control the resources of society. Women give nurturing and support. When in the right environment and given the right opportunities, women can fully enjoy the fruits of their labour. The story of women should be called her-story. Women have stories too – lots of stories. Mrs Nana Ko-na-du Agye-man Rawlings has one of the most fascinating stories of womanhood in Ghana. Some of us love to hate her, but that is neither here nor there.

At the birth of Ghana, a young Egyptian woman, Fathia, was shipped off to get married to our first President, the self-styled and charismatic Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah, in his super-sized visionary ambition to unite Africa. After getting over the initial pain of being side-lined by the handsome Nkrumah for an almost white-woman from the River Nile region of Africa, Ghanaian women, especially the market women, fell in love with Fathia. They sang and danced to her glory, composed songs to confirm her as good for Nkrumah and spread out their cover cloth on the streets for her car to drive over. Today, she lays in her husband’s plush grave in Accra.

The parallel ends there. Fathia was for Nkrumah. But Konadu is not just for Rawlings. From the definition of her name by her beloved hubby earlier this week, Ko-na-du is for Ghana! Her name is supposed to mean that she must push on and fight to redeem her destiny – her NDC and by that, her country. That may be the problem.

Power lives on:

Let’s face it, Nana Konadu has poo-pood and pee-peed on sexism and machismo in Ghana like no other. She has given expression to the word bold in ways that tempts one to re-check the meaning of bold. In our culture, bold is not feminine; it’s masculine. The story of Yaa Asantewa is one of the most important folklores because her-story is predicated on bold. The synonyms of bold include brave, daring, courageous, audacious, gallant, valiant, unflinching, confident, brash, forward, self-assured, impudent and cheeky. A key antonym of bold is timid. We raise our girls to be timid! I’m timid!

From my knowledge of Ghana’s history (and her-story), no other woman – living or dead, has ever had half the clout (no, fraction!) Konadu has enjoyed. For 19½ years until 2001 – the chunk of the lifespan of Ghana as an independent country, Ko-na-du was a co-president of some sort with her Flight Lieutenant Rawlings hubby. She had unhindered access to power. She lived in the house of power, slept in the bedroom (no, bed!) of power. Yea, she was power.

So for much of two decades of Ghana’s 43-year existence, Konadu was an entrenched part of the country’s political system – yea, she became the system. She formed (or was crowned the founder!) of the 31^st December Women’s Movement (DWM) that marked its 30 years of existence this week. Madam was not just the 1^st Lady. Her DWM was like a government unto itself.

Stories abound about her regarding not just being bold, courageous, audacious, gallant, valiant, unflinching, confident, but for displaying acts of impudence and cheekiness. But then, that’s the name of the game – of power, that is. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. She operated in a world of autocracy and had a unique chance to evolve from the timidity of your typical Ghanaian female into a woman of power who was not simply admired, but feared and hated. She used her unrestrained power privilege to organize and embolden women, whip up their confidence while bringing to the surface the not–then-talked-about thorny issues of machismo, child rights and women’s rights.

How do you push a cork back into a wine bottle? Tough. And that’s the problem. After she had been adored and feared for decades, somehow, we expect Konadu to vanish into the background of history? She can’t. And that’s the problem. Konadu has an unfulfilled urge to self-actualize – to become something beyond her present self. But instead of an opportunity for self-actualization, she now carries a deep hurt of pride in her heart and soul.

The NDC did not manage her-story well throughout the FONKAR games that crested at the Sunyani Congress. There, she was publicly ridiculed beyond description. At that Congress, the former law Professor who should have known better, brandished his wife about as Dr Mrs Naadu Mills, a title she had not appropriately earned. (She gave a speech at a low-cost small college in Connecticut, USA.) If I were in Konadu’s shoes, my estrogen would have erupted.

Prez Mills should have handled the Konadu mystique better. He should have learned lessons from USA’s Prez Barack Obama who appointed his nemesis, former First Lady Hilary Clinton, as US Secretary of State (Minister of Foreign Affairs) and the voice and face of America to th world. Methinks Nana Konadu Agyeman Rawlings would have made an excellent Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Mills administration. Hilary is an outstanding US Secretary of State. She is shining so much on the international scene. She enjoys herself and is representing America superbly.

I can vividly see in my mind’s eye an image of Konadu playing a similar role for Ghana, carrying the position on a high horse. Konadu has the finesse for such a position. She would have enjoyed it so much and represented Ghana superbly. Madam oh, Madam! Even if you dislike Konadu, you can’t deny that she’s got game! Many of us women don’t have a clue on how to be ambitious and chase after what we want. Konadu definitely does! She was thrust into the limelight with a ‘Daavi’ hair-cut and metamorphosed into a fashion icon who became the limelight and power-base.

Why didn’t President Mills give the former First Lady such a high-ranking appointment to strategically kill two mighty birds with one stone? First, this would have increased the number of women in his administration (as he promised to do, but has failed woefully!). Secondly, Madam would have been too busy to eye his presidential seat. Well, President Mills, you missed the opportunity. Ouch!

Now, she has too much time on her hands to play mischief with the umbrella, the emblem of the NDC! This is a sticky problem.

If I were in Konadu’s shoes and nurturing a deep hurt, would I have gone to this extent to scheme to disrupt the NDC? Theoretically speaking, I don’t think so. My conscience would have been pierced and I would have timidly evaporated from the scene to nurture my hurt until death. But then, I’ve never laid in the bed of power so I’m probably not that qualified to step into Konadu’s shoes. This plot will continue to thicken. And, we’ll watch with fascination as the band plays on.

dorisdartey@gmail.com

The WatchWoman Column

Published in the Spectator newspaper on 19^th May, 2012

Doris Yaa Dartey, Ph.D.