Theme: PEOPLE PETS
15.04.2021
I wonder what is worse: to know freedom and not having it, or not to know freedom at all?
My family has this dog.
Derrick.
I mentioned him before.
He is a working dog.
He earns his living.
Like most animals here.
And why not?
People have to earn a living too.
Animals in Africa are not pets.
They are people.
Dogs here even eat like people.
They don’t get Frolic or Chappy or any of that nonsense.
They eat rice with vegetables and meat.
Leftover people food.
Derrick’s job is to guard the house at night.
And during the day he is locked up in his pen and sleeps.
That’s all he knows.
Most people (all the women) in the house are scared of him.
He is a Doberman cross.
Sweet natured but also wild and strong.
And can be unpredictable.
His pen has a concrete floor.
For cool and hygiene.
In my opinion it could be bigger.
Since he is a big dog.
The first day I got to my dad’s house, I made friends with Derrick.
I am a sucker for creatures.
And their plight touches me.
I noticed that his human interaction is limited to two happenings in twenty four hours.
Each evening at 10pm sharp, my dad or brother releases him.
All gates of the property are locked and during the night he roams the compound.
Making sure we sleep safely.
Because burglars here in Africa apparently not just rob but kill you.
Or if they can’t be bothered with the interaction, they sneak in and chloroform your ass.
So you sleep through whatever it is they are doing.
That’s why we have the hound.
And at 6am my dad or brother feed and water him and he goes back into the pen.
Sometimes he gets a bath.
That’s it.
He seems a fairly content dog.
But then I come in.
I cuddle him.
Can’t help myself.
And he seems to love it.
So, if I’m outside when he gets out at night, he comes running and licks my hands and wants to be scruffled.
For aaaages.
When he feels I’m letting off to turn in for the night, he leans into me with his powerful body and wraps himself around my legs.
A barrier of furry muscle.
Cuddle hostage.
So I stand there and stroke him while the mosquitos get my legs.
And in little moments I regret having started this.
But then I also delight in his delight.
And he is so sweet.
And I wonder: am I not cruel for having offered ruffles in the first place?
Making him realise the possibility of them which he greedily claims since he has been deprived of it for so long?
Will he not look forward to me doing it every night and then being disappointed when I’m not there?
Are animals expectant?
Do they feel disappointment like people do?
I presume so.
But that makes me a slave to them.
A slave to my compassion for them.
Through my presumption I am making myself a slave.
And I don’t like it.
Because it makes me feel guilty when I want to claim my freedom.
That’s why I never want to have pets.
The guilt pains me.
And there shouldn’t be a reason for it.
Because it might not be true.
What I presume.
Only by me giving human features to animals, that guilt exists.
What is more important: my freedom not to give a fuck or their perceived need? Which is also only my perception.
To be honest, I have that guilt letting down people too.
If I interact with a person, I feel like I’m entering a binding contract with them.
If they put their trust in me, I feel obliged to honour that trust.
It’s a thing I have.
If someone asks something of me, I oblige. Because I feel I owe it to them because of that unspoken contract.
The promise of friendship.
And I become a slave to that.
It’s an uprighteousness I possess.
Not sure where that’s from.
If I promise someone something, I make damn sure I fulfil that promise.
Even if it is unspoken.
But I realise that I probably have a lot of those ‘mental’ promises.
Promises I make myself.
Voluntary single-sides contracts.
Which I sign and hold myself accountable for.
Why do I do that?
Accountability.
Trustworthiness.
Consistency.
Those are some of my values.
Very German traits I recognise.
I think they are important.
Ha.
But now I’m in Africa.
Those traits are somewhat non-existent.
Starting from corruption in government.
It’s inherent in the culture.
Someone says something but it doesn’t mean anything.
There are no promises.
Spoken or unspoken.
You can almost always presume bullshit unless proven innocent.
It’s a way of living and everyone lives it.
So it’s no big deal.
Only on governmental level it is.
A fucking big deal.
It leaves the country open to squandering.
Opportunism.
Corruption.
My brother explained it like that on our recent short car trip to Cape Coast.
A president wins the election.
The government and cabinet is established.
They wanna build a hospital.
So they start.
And only that.
Give contracts out to all their buddies in repayment to their financial campaign backing.
When the 4 years’ term is over, it might not be finished.
If they get re-elected, they might finish it.
However, if not, the next government certainly doesn’t want to finish what someone else started and abandons it.
To start over.
Another hospital.
THEIR way.
With THEIR name on it.
Ghana is littered with started and unfinished projects.
The waste is astounding.
But the previous government got as much money as possible out of their 4 years.
To set themselves and their buddies up financially for life.
Big time.
So who cares about the country?
They now live the life of luxury and their kids go to private school in Switzerland.
And fair enough.
Not. But yeah. But no. But ..
Butt butt.
So now it’s time for the next lot.
And so on and so forth.
A money making/sucking machine.
While there are still red dirt roads.
Why is it that a country like Ghana, having an incredible wealth of natural resources including gold, oil, diamonds, cocoa, bromide is still lacking so much in development?
All that stuff goes overseas for refinement and only a small portion benefits the country.
Basically, Ghana oil is sold overseas and then bought back to run Ghana cars.
Is that economical?
I’m not an expert but is sounds dodgy.
Sorry.
It smells of colonialism.
I was joking with my brother that is I was in government, I would put all my efforts into improving the roads.
Then people would remember and love me forever.
Like Adolf Hitler is still universally revered for having invented the Autobahn.
The German Autobahn.
These words are uttered in reverence even by folks who don’t fucking drive.
It’s a symbol.
For lasting efficiency.
And driving pleasure.
Progress.
With roads you can go places.
Move forward.
Fast.
There would be no ‘Vorsprung durch Technik’ without roads.
No Porsche.
No Mercedes.
No Audi.
No fucking anything.
And the roads in Ghana are positively mediaeval.
Basically one main road connecting every major city.
Two lanes.
One for each direction.
Shared by trucks and cars and goats.
With many a casualty.
The other day a truck with 2000 sacks of cement unbalanced and crashed.
Nobody was going anywhere for a whole day.
Main artery and life blood flow blocked.
Thrombosis.
Stroke.
Traffic is the daily bane and main topic of conversation of all Ghanaians.
Outperforming Covid 19.
It affects their way of living every single day.
Wasting their time.
My sister in law currently spends 3h a day in work related traffic.
Within the same city.
In a stretch which could not be more than 6km.
Insane.
So why does the government not build and improve roads?
No money.
Lol.
And also …
Land in Ghana is divided amongst chiefs. They own it.
So getting a connecting road built through land which is potentially owned by as many as 20 chiefs makes it difficult negotiating.
In fact a gargantuan task.
Like the pyramids.
They took ages too.
And we only got 4 years.
Which is just about enough to build potential.
And Ghana has so much of that.
Nobody works together or plans long term.
The plan is only for_on their own term.
I wonder how long it took Hitler to build his autobahn pyramid?
And he loved his German shepherds.
Politicians don’t really earn their living.
They are expensive pets we keep.
And feed.
And they take the piss.
All over us.
I know it is generalisingly Daily Mail style but there is a truth.
With power comes money.
And no politician is bothered about being disgraced.
If they are loaded.
No accountability needed if wealthy.
I’m sure all start off young and enthusiastic and with big ideas.
What happens to them?
I guess there is a point where you have a choice: stick to your silly values and cross people who can cut you down in an instant and you disappear (physically in some countries) or you join the club and live the rest of your life in luxury.
Tricky choice.
4 years.
Personal all or nothing.
Maybe Africa is teaching me to not give a fuck sometimes.
To put myself before others.
Which is healthy.
A valuable lesson.
I will learn.
To go into the not-giving-a-fuck realm properly and then reaching the perfect balance.
To give a fuck and not.
Simultaneously.
Simple.
“Simple life is all we want to lead. Give me food, give me love and give me shelter ..[] Tell me where we gonna rumble..” (been hearing this song on Ghana radio)
