FaceOff with the International MP

By Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng

Face-Off With the International ‘MP’ is a compilation of short stories, drama, different purposed letters, and jest, all garnished with an unusual but perfect mix of satire, wit and logic. The book walks readers through the experiences of the only ‘Member of Parliament’ representing a virtual constituency. The book brings to life issues in politics, romance, educational and career experiences both home and abroad, and short memos - files that the International ‘MP’ deals with on 24/7. The right dose of laughter, the fluidity of Nkrumah-Boateng’s unmatched imagery, the apt description of everything Ghanaian plus the solitary enjoyment of his entitlement as the only untenured MP combine to make this book a must-read.

I introduce to you a reverently irreverent writer who pulls no punches, wears no kids’ gloves, bars no holds and suffers no fools gladly. There is not a topic that Rodney is shy to address, and frontally and bluntly too. Anan Anan Ankomah, Managing Partner, Bentsi-Enchill, Letsa & Ankomah

Rodney glides you along on a momentum of choleric rhetoric and suddenly explodes your mind into an amusement park of satire, laced with intelligent and exciting lines of literary mischief. Jason Tutu, Research & Development Expert

Nkrumah-Boateng uniquely mixes truth and poetic satire: his wit, crisp humour, eloquence and fluid writing style, and the heretical elegance with which he makes his points, made you want to kick something...Little wonder a major radio station mistook his satirical narrative as fact, and serialized it on radio! Kofi Bentil, Lawyer/Vice President, IMANI

Rodney's writing always leaves me wanting more. Dr. Victor Bampoe, Former Deputy Minister for Health

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng
• Release date: Apr 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370376872

Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng

Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng grew up in Tarkwa and Prestea in Ghana’s Western Region. He was educated at Opoku Ware School in Kumasi and the University of Ghana, where he earned a B.A in French and Political Science. He undertook further studies in law at City University and the College of Law, both in London. Following this, he worked briefly with the Legal Services Commission in London before going on to work for various law firms as an immigration advocate and advisor. He returned to live in Ghana in April 2011, and is currently the Press Secretary to the Minister of Education.

Book preview

Glossary

Author’s Note

When I started out on Facebook some eight years ago, I had no idea it would lead me down this path today. If someone had predicted I would one day put together a selection of my posts in a book, I would have told him or her to stop drinking whatever cheap drink s/he was drinking and/or wake up from their incompetent wet dream. Who would be interested in such piffle?

Like many Facebookers, I have made amazing friends over the years and have expanded my knowledge frontiers. The serious stuff, the sharp wit, humour and absolute craziness make it a family worth belonging to, even if some grate on your nerves with their ‘some way’ logic. When I meet a total stranger who gives me a smile and then says to me Honourable, I am a loyal constituent, it gladdens my heart immensely, even if this ‘two by four’ popularity means I cannot misbehave myself in public, lest a kokonsani is lurking anonymously in the shadows somewhere and releases the ‘filla’ on Facebook.

Especially over the last five years or so, I have thoroughly enjoyed the political battles I have engaged in with my friends from the other side of the political divide, many of whom I have never met in person. Throughout this period, we have managed to keep it civil despite our sharp differences, even whilst we rattled our sabres and sought to propel our respective sides to electoral victory.

My Facebook South Life ‘MPship’, bestowed on me by my good friend, Isaac Amoah, together with all its benefits such as free lunches and free 1931 (are these bribes?). My penchant for stool wife acquisition (perhaps a good time for an SW4 to commemorate this book?). My amazing Propaganda Secretary, Kofi Ofosu, now an ‘Oga’. My many titles to rival Idi Amin’s. My political letters to my good friends, my political plays, short stories and sermons, my unbridled love for 1931, my battles with my Prempeh College friends. Et cetera, et cetera. You name them, they have defined my 24/7 presence on Facebook, and I now know cold turkey is when my mobile phone is lost or damaged and I cannot access Facebook from wherever I am. Now that is a real crisis!

Reading through the posts I have made over the years as this book project began to take shape, I found it hard to believe that I actually wrote some of them. Some of the posts, directed at ‘Yaanom’, have too much pepper. The posts, on a range of subjects, bring fond memories and wry smiles. I am eternally grateful to all my ‘constituents’. You have made this journey beautiful. Social media has come to stay as an integral part of our national life, rallying us around common causes, broadening our knowledge and influencing our lives.

So what lies ahead? Surely, the ultimate-toppling Mark Z from his perch as Facebook President and replacing him, whilst holding on to my MPship and other titles? Now that is a thought.

Sshhh….do not breathe a word of my insurgency plans to Mark.

More vim!

Foreword

It is often said that we take ourselves too seriously, and do not laugh enough. If this description fits or suits you, then please stay as far away as possible from Rodney and his writings [scratch that!]: read the book in hiding. I introduce to you a reverently irreverent writer who pulls no punches, wears no kids’ gloves, bars no holds and suffers no fools gladly. There is not a topic that Rodney is shy to address, and frontally and bluntly too. Rodney treats, [scratch that!] specialises in the topics that one might want to avoid; but by the time he is done, you absolutely relate to both the matter and his treatment of it. Or you hate him for it. His presentation is rich in language, imagery and humour. He is not shy to take digs at himself and so when he does that to others and the issues that he handles, it is just Rodney being Rodney.

I first ‘met’ this self-described Honourable MP for Facebook on (you guessed right) Facebook. Nobody elected him. He does not stand for re-election. He is self-anointed, self-appointed and self-titled. And to top it all off, he has chosen his own Stool Wives (three of them!), explaining that the position of an ‘African’ MP on Facebook must come with certain ‘fringe benefits.’ He has carried this make-believe ‘marriages’ so far that once when he had a public ‘tiff’ with one of the ‘Wives’, he received a genuine inbox message from a reader, reprimanding and excoriating him for quarrelling with his spouse in public!

We were students in the University of Ghana at the same time; or so he claims – I have absolutely no memory or recollection of him from those times. And I don’t remember whether he requested my ‘friendship’ on Facebook or I did his. I think that was the time he was about to relocate to Ghana from the UK. But somehow we got connected and hit it off like a house of fire. Once he settled in Ghana, he turned his fire and ire on the things that keep us back from moving forward as a people; and with his finely-honed wit, unrestrained humour and biting sarcasm, he has sought not to throw the fabric of who we are away, but to change some of the weak strands of the fabric, one frustrating strand at a time.

Rodney does not hide his obvious political bias, and freely admits that his political views are deeply influenced and coloured by that bias. Yet when you read him teasing, and ripping and tearing into his own side of the political divide, you are left wondering where that bias is…, until he returns to teasing and ripping and tearing into the opposite side of the divide. When he does that, he invites leading proponent-opponents to read his writing and answer back. He relishes in the exchanges and is full of witty comebacks. He wears his opponents out with sheer energy and vim.

Occasionally, he takes one on the chin. But I have seen him ride the punch and come back even stronger. He is your YING-YANG, at once your light and darkness, softness and hardness (Rodney, no naughty puns intended), in and out (Rodney, be careful!) and giver and receiver (Rodney!!!) This book marks his transition from the soft copies of electronic media to the hard copies of traditional paper books. But it doesn’t change who he is and what he does: an enigma and a riddle, confused and confusing at the same time.

You will find in Rodney, your well-hidden antithesis that is probably your real self, the self whose existence you deny to everyone and even convinced yourself does not exist. Thus in welcoming you to this book, I just welcome you to yourself.

Ace Anan Ankomah

Managing Partner

Bentsi-Enchill, Letsa & Ankomah

From the Political Desk

Bribes or Gifts

13 May 2016

Why are people asking me whether as Facebook MP and a human being, I have accepted bribes from constituents?

Let me give you a simple, straightforward answer:

In the course of my work as a fantastic MP, there have been situations where constituents have fallen over themselves to offer me things, refusal of which would be in bad taste. I talk of 1931, lunches, whiskey, fragrances and the like.

Of course, it is a matter of interpretation what these kind offers impute, but it is my considered view that the items and benefits in themselves cannot, in any way, be considered bribes using the 'reasonableness' test, an established principle of law, definition of which was provided by Lord Denning MR, the celebrated English jurist (the man on the Clapham omnibus test).

Given the cultural dictates of our society where offence is easily taken over refusal of gifts and services, it stands to reason that a clear and careful balance ought to be struck between what may be seen as bribes and what may be seen as mere gifts without motive to influence my work as MP, Facebook policy or my credentials as a human being.

I hope this short statement clarifies the raging questions.

Thank you.

NPP

9th December 2015

The capital is an interesting place with a lot of loonies around.

This afternoon, my schoolmate, Ebo Gyebi (AG93), and I were out and about on some Akatakyie business. We had just finished a lovely fufu lunch, with 1931 and 1759 in attendance.

As we drove towards the Ako Adjei interchange from the direction of Opana's abode, Ebo stopped to give way to a lady driver. The driver of the Nissan Civilian bus behind us kept honking at us, so we told him to be quiet and 'eff' off by showing him the middle finger.

As he drew up alongside us, he started screaming like a crazy dude and making all manner of puerile threats. We were amused. But what cracked us up was when he screamed, 'mo NPP fuo deɛ, saa na mo te' (as for you NPP people, that is how you are).

Huh? Ebo has no NPP sticker on his car, nor any NPP paraphernalia anywhere around his car. We hadn't said anything political. Where did he get the idea that we were NPP? We ran through the possible reasons for his conclusion after the miserable idiot had pulled away still screaming.

Was it because Ebo was driving a fine car? Unlikely, because NDC folks too drive fine cars.

Was it because he had recognized me from Facebook? Hardly, because the clown did not look like someone who could even compose a simple text message, never mind navigate on this forum. 

Was it the Akatakyie car pennant dangling in Ebo's car? Not really, because OWASS' colours are blue and yellow, distinctively different from the NPP's instantly recognisable blue, white and red colours. 

Was it because we spoke Twi? That would be ridiculous, because he was speaking Twi as well.

In the end, we concluded that this guy's conclusion was premised on the fact that Ebo and I are both very fine, fresh guys.

Simplicita.

Demo – Marching For His Excellency

17 March 2015

This morning, I was in a taxi approaching the SSB roundabout from the Kumasi Zoo.

As we approached Pampaso, I saw a group of young men and women screaming their lungs out amidst dancing and holding placards. They numbered about 20. I assumed they were probably members of the Bremang Youth Association, celebrating their group's 12th anniversary.

As the cab got closer, I realised they were, in fact, part of a march in support of His Excellency and what he has done for Ashanti. They held placards, with inscriptions such as Free School Sandals for Kids, 1 Million Votes for Ashanti - Mine Dey Inside, et cetera. I didn't see any placard referring to the Dead Goat Syndrome, sadly. Someone held a placard with an artist's impression of a refurbished Rattray Park, which is opposite the Golden Tulip Hotel. Of course, the artist's impression was one of the government's achievements.

They danced. They looked happy. A few looked shy. Yet others looked quite hungry. Some looked rather weary. Sadly, due to dumsor, my phone was comatose, so I could not take pictures.

Kumasianos looked on bemused, even as they minded their own business. There was dumsor in parts of Adum, which was the irony. But the marchers did not care. Dumsor, so what? They loved Mahama, full stop. One of the cars in front of us, full of foot-soldiers, played 'Yentie Obiaa' endlessly as we crawled along. Some of the marchers shouted 'Yentie Obiaa' and 'E dey be kɛkɛ'. I thought the latter phrase had gone out of fashion.

Two things struck me as the rather sparse crowd made its way. It appeared there were more policemen than marchers. Maybe I need new glasses, but that was what I saw. Maybe people were too shy to be caught demonstrating in favour of the government.

Secondly, my conclusion was that the demonstrators were not Kumasiano natives, but were bussed in. My reason is simple. All the inscriptions on the placards were on point. No atrocious spellings. That is so un-Kumasiano.

I am sure His Excellency will wince tonight when he sees the pictures on TV tonight. The march was boring, tepid and dry. The organisers could not even afford brass band. He must throw the organisers into jail. It is disgraceful that a ruling government that confidently seeks a million votes in in Ashanti cannot even marshal 1% of that number onto the streets.

The Organised Youth of Ashanti group said it was organising a 1000-man march for the president. I think it managed only about 20% of the number. 

And I am being generous.

Retail Politics

19 February, 2015

May I? It has been a while since my last rant. I will be brief (relatively). Thank you.

OK, so I laugh hard when I hear NDC choristers demanding from the NPP policy alternatives to dumsor and other ills that are battering them. Either they are covertly seeking help, but are too proud to say so, or they hope to lure the NPP into providing technical opinions which are way over the head of many Ghanaians, thereby losing relevance as 2016 gears up. The NPP must not be tempted. It is obvious that the NDC is feeling the heat of yesterday’s demonstration. The fire must be stoked.

Look, I do not know what a megawatt looks like, and I do not care. I have never seen a thermal plant or gas pipeline before, and I am not keen to do so. I don’t understand inflation, debt to GDP ratio and all the technical stuff. And I pride myself as a well-read educated person with a few funny letters after my name. What I know is that I sleep in sweltering heat most of the time and that my life is miserable most times because there is no electricity. My anger is directed at government, naturally and reasonably. And if they cannot solve it, then they ought to be dropped like yam. End of.

I think it is wrong for NPP activists and supporters to make a blanket claim that the Ghanaian does not vote on issues. If what they seek to say is that the Ghanaian does not vote on policy alternatives, then of course, I agree. However, who says that the ethnic considerations, looks, campaign slogans and songs, distribution of bentoas, wax prints, cars, GHS50 notes et al that decide many votes in this country are not issues for those that cast their votes one way or the other on the basis of those factors? Who decides for the voter what the issue is or should be? Can NDC tell us, sincerely, the serious policy alternatives that brought them to power in 2008 and kept them there in 2012? Like seriously? See my point?

The NPP should understand that it cannot change the Ghanaian electoral psyche. What it ought to do is learn how to carve its message around the issues that matter to the Ghanaian voter and decide his/her vote. If you are chasing a girl and you realize that she loves ice cream, for God’s sake you need to buy her an ice cream van if you seriously want to get her into your bed and ‘de-dross’ her, if that is what it has to take. You do not lecture her that she could get diabetes from too much ice cream and offer her flowers daily on the basis that they are therapeutic. It is patronising. It is called idiocy. She will clamp her thighs tight whilst flirting outrageously with you, and you will be left with a painful, useless erection.

In retrospect, the NPP should, in 2012, have concentrated on catchy sloganeering instead of the Free SHS thingy.

By all means let the NPP organize lovely, high-brow lectures in Accra and produce glossy manifesto booklets stating snazzy policies ahead of the elections. But let it be known that even among the cappuccino-drinking educated classes of East Legon, Trassaco Valley and Airport Hills, there are many whose vote depends largely on ethnic and other considerations that some consider to be banal, and no more.

Retail politics is the thing, baby.

Politics, Condoms & Tax: A Ghanaian Perspective

22 July, 2013

Perhaps it is a sign of how bad things have become, that a country that is blessed with abundant natural resources should now be seeking to tax condoms (condoms!!) to raise money towards balancing its books. One cannot help but think of a once - wealthy man who mismanaged his wealth, to the extent that he now resorts to flogging his maidservant’s cheap trinkets in order to survive.

At first, it seemed like a cheap rumour that the opposition people were inflicting on the people, a cooked-up story to embarrass and ridicule the government. Then it turned out that this was serious stuff, and the smirk and smiles were wiped off people’s faces, to be replaced by howls of indignation and looks of incredulity. The notion of paying tax on a little bit of bedroom gymnastics sounded perverse to many, and evoked images of a wicked, sneering, nosy and wildly sadistic government intent on ensuring that your little pleasure, your haven from all the gloom of the deficit, was tinged with cold financial implications. For many men, this was especially wicked, given that they are already burdened with funding dinners, jewellery, Brazilian hair, phone credit and clothes, among others, for their demanding wives, girlfriends and mistresses.

But, perhaps, one is a bit too hard on government. It is not disputed that we have a crisis/challenge (choose according to your political inclination) on our hands. Never mind where the money is gone -that is another discussion. But if we are in hard times, what business do people have thrusting their waists about in perverse pleasure anyway? Isn’t that selfish? Should we all not be mourning and weeping and gnashing our teeth together? How can you snort at the phrase ‘Better Ghana‘ and then go off gyrating and moaning with pleasure as you hit crescendo after crescendo? Is that not unpatriotic?

And then there is the fairness of the tax. I mean, is sex an ‘essential commodity’? Is it one of the basic necessities of life? I know many will argue that it is. But I beg to differ. It is, only if it is to ensure procreation and the continuity of the human race. But condoms work against that very notion. If you choose to go having a good time, I suppose the government’s view is that you have to pay an extra something for the privilege. In other words, it is a tax you pay by choice, therefore the idea that