I’m here to shake tables.
Who is a Ghanaian? Ask any of my country folk and you will get one word answers such as ‘Honest.’
‘Convivial.’ ‘Lighthearted.’ ‘Respectful.’ I’m here for the last word, because I don’t think it is true.
From birth, Ghanaians are rigorously trained to act respectful (keyword: act). We are told: “Ask for permission before talking, never talk back, and never EVER reach for something with your left hand.” That last one is practically a taboo. Your left hand is your toilet hand (apparently).
Most of this training is done under threat of punishment. All Ghanaian children know there’s a cane lurking in the shadows in case you mess up. Hardly is an explanation given. In fact, I had to learn about “toilet hand” from an age mate.
This is where the problem lies. Respect is trained into the Ghanaian as a form of dogma, while the reason behind the rule is ignored.
‘Why’ is one of the most important questions in life, yet we constantly fail to ask it.
Our children grow up and the moment the threat of the cane falls away, so do they. They become adults who insult, jeer, and seek their own good at the expense of others.
Whenever they are in a situation in which they are at a power disadvantage, they revert to form. Fake
smiles. Kowtowing.
“Fake. Fake. Fake.” That was the response I got from a fellow African when I asked her my original question… I might be shaking the table a bit too hard. Let me take a step back.
Ghanaians are awesome. We are peaceful, and we love community…but we have a lot to learn about respect.
Respect starts from the heart, not the mind.
Toilet hand for example speaks of a cultural understanding of cleanliness (Heck, if we had followed through we may have found Germ Theory before Louis Pasteur and Robert Koch). Despite this, whenever I look around I see a gross misunderstanding of cleanliness.
If you respect your neighbour and yourself, you will not litter.
If you respect your brother, you won’t bitterly fight him over inheritance. If you respect your mother, you will take your grievance to her and not mumble behind her back.
It’s a heart problem.
So how do we build a truly respectful society? How do we move on from our current masquerade?
We build from the ground up.
Children must be told why they are asked to do the things we tell them to. Fear may motivate quickly, but its effects fade just as fast.
Compassion breeds understanding and lifelong change.
Again, I love my country. It is with love that I say these words: Respect, like beauty, isn’t skin deep. It comes from a heart that genuinely cares for others, not from a mind drilled in rules and customs. Let us train the hearts of our young ones.
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