Battling Corruption in Ghana

The international media and the Western education system traditionally have conveyed Africa in a poor light. We have been led to believe Africa is only filled with corrupt officials and rebels, conflict and disease. The average Anglo may go out on a limb and assume there is an abundance of "diverse culture," funny-sounding languages, voodoo and animism and strange food, but that's not what makes the headlines, does it?

Not telling the entire truth, even if the truth given to you is skewed, is considered lying, right? (Ex-boyfriend from 2008, don't answer that.)

But thanks to top scholars such as Angelina Jolie, George Clooney, Penelope Cruz, Alicia Keys, Jay-Z, Brad Pitt, Will Smith, Mariah Carey, Bono, Salma Hayek, Stevie Wonder, Elton John and Paul McCartney, our minds have been opened to the possibility that there is much joy and happiness to be felt and shared in this continent.

Earlier this month the Commission for Human Rights and Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) held a conference in the Central Region to engage the government, civil society, parliament and private sector in the development of an action plan against corruption in Ghana. CHRAJ has been conducting these consultative meetings in Ghana's 10 regions to spread awareness of the National Anti-Corruption Action Plan (NACAP) and to make contributions and edits to its draft before submitting it to the Parliament at the end of April 2011.

The event took place at Elmina Beach Resort and attracted over 100 invited representatives of the Central Region's NGOs both local and international, the University of Cape Coast, social welfare, media, religious bodies and security members from the police, prisons and the Bureau of National Investigations (similar to the FBI).

But wait! Hold the phone. Where were our friends from Immigration? Or Customs? After all, this party was unanimously called to order because of them. (Read about one of my enchanting experiences with Immigration yet?) Yet, let's give them the benefit of the doubt - they must have had more important engagements to be all, you know, corrupt, and stuff.

In the keynote address, a CHRAJ director informed us that although Ghana is en route to becoming a well-oiled (seriously) democratic nation, a rising leader in tourism throughout Africa and in economic influence in West Africa, 42% of all households in Ghana paid a bribe in 2009. That's not including tourists.

Here is the breakdown of the bribe distribution, as found by this CHRAJ survey:

• 63% to the police
• 44% to the judiciary
• 32% to obtain registration and permits
• 29% to land services
• 20% to education authorities

I have only been in Ghana for nine months and have heard stories or personally experienced corruption in each of the sectors mentioned above. Come on, Atta Mills, this has been an issue since before the beginning of your term. Let's enforce some laws, here! Incidentally, although CHRAJ had been instructed to prohibit participants from discussing the president during the conference (hmmm), that didn't stop things from getting messy. During the question-and-answer series, one of the participants asked for the microphone and raised the point that it seems unfitting for the police to be listed in the NACAP as a corruption watchdog. Everyone laughed. (Flashback to when my boss went to the Cape Coast police station to file a report for one of our volunteers and the policeman on duty laughed and said, "O my sweet, you will need a friend in the police to work on that case.") Still laughing, the MC took back the microphone, walked over to the policeman and said, "That's a great question, why don't we ask the only policeman in the room for his thoughts!" Laughter again. The policeman looked down at his hands folded on the table and mumbled into the mic, "No comment."

Later we broke into groups of about 20 at random. Each group was given a question to answer, which would be included into the NACAP if relevant and worthy. We had one hour to brainstorm and record our answer. I really enjoyed observing my group. We had the I-feel-uncomfortable-being-here policeman, an articulate different-angle-viewing woman from some board of education, a sophisticated woman who, instead of contributing germane comments to the discussion, made remarks about how Ghanaians (our group, CHRAJ, Elmina Beach Resort staff) execute tasks ineffectively, an eloquent composed young man who eventually became our recording secretary, an obnoxious devil's advocate who threw his arms violently in every direction when he spoke, a sly woman whose careless body language did not match her bold statements and a nervous wiry guy who only spoke to report how much time we had left.

Where did I fit in? In this particular group setting, I assumed the role of moving the conversation along when we fell into lulls, or quarrels, more accurately. Whenever I added something to the discussion, the group quieted and listened and did not challenge. I hope to be challenged just as much as I hope to be agreed with, and usually I am not verbally challenged by Ghanaians. At least my interaction with my group wasn't resemblant of "The White Woman Has Spoken," which perhaps was not an issue because these were some of the brightest minds of the Central Region. By "brightest minds" I mean they thought for themselves. Some of the local NGO project partners I've worked with will say "no problem" when later, either through the grapevine or in a surprise meeting (verbal attack on our organization or employees, in some cases) I will sense that there really is a problem. Then why say "no problem?" My guess is because the education system in Ghana teaches students to please their superiors and to regurgitate what the teachers say. Only a fiercely independent mind, further education or travel outside of Ghana can amend these habits. When discussing issues of development, conversation always circles back to the malfunctions of the country's education system.

Here is the question my group was given:
What should be the role of the institutions in the implementation of the action plan?
a) civil society (NGOs, media, religious bodies, trade unions)
b) traditional authorities
c) private sector and contractors
d) the individual Ghanaian

The woman who complained about the ineffectiveness of Ghanaians pointed out that none of us knew the intended purpose of the action plan, so someone fetched a CHRAJ director and asked her to read us the outline of the NACAP. She kindly reminded us that the purpose of the action plan is to prevent corruption, reform institutions, strengthen the oversight responsibilities of anti-corruption institutions, implement public awareness and education and create an enabling environment to fight corruption.

With the NACAP purpose in mind, we were able to move forward. Our answer is below:
What should be the role of the institutions in the implementation of the action plan?
a) civil society (NGOs, media, religious bodies, trade unions) - raising awareness through education, publicizing, raising funds, building capacities, serving as community watchdogs
b) traditional authorities - creating and obeying rules and regulations, implementing sanctions and rewards for acts of integrity (durbars and festivals), improving record-keeping, simplifying internal processes
c) private sector and contractors - desisting and reporting all corrupt activities, forming associations to protect citizens
d) the individual Ghanaian - adopting and encouraging a change of attitude toward corruption (it should not be commonplace), educating others (word-of-mouth), creating and partaking in anti-corruption institutions, desisting and reporting corrupt activities

When we reconvened in the conference room, our recording secretary presented our report to the rest of the participants. The CHRAJ director said our group had unearthed some details missing from the NACAP draft, and they would make sure to include those points in the edited version. Feels pretty cool to be able to contribute to Ghana's first anti-corruption action plan.

It was a collective belief among our group and the rest of the conference attendees that the biggest roadblock for the NACAP would be fear of retaliation against those who report acts of corruption. Anonymity will save reputations and maybe even lives. Apparently there is an anti-corruption hotline for this reason, but the CHRAJ director did not have the number memorized or with him. (Ha.) He promised to e-mail us after the conference the hotline phone number and the opening PowerPoint presentation.

As promised, he e-mailed the PowerPoint presentation but forgot to include the phone number. Oh well, at least the presentation is an interesting read.

Friends in Low Places

I am in Ghana on a tourist visa. I was granted 60 days upon arrival, renewed my visa in September for three months and was due for a second renewal on December 8th. If I had a work visa, which we are in the process of obtaining, I wouldn’t have to renew my visa at all. But that is neither here nor there.

So here’s the pickle: About every other week day, an immigration officer takes a bag of the visas-to-be-renewed to Ghana’s capital, Accra, which is a bulk of the reason it takes approximately two weeks to process the visa renewal for all mainstream requests. I am leaving Cape Coast on Friday, December 17 to visit Togo with a friend for a week. I need my visa/passport to get into Togo; therefore, I needed to have my visa returned to Cape Coast by the 17th. To get my visa back by then, I needed to get it renewed no later than December 3rd.

Toward the end of November I told my boss Kirsty about my December 3rd deadline. She said the Cape Coast immigration office has a rule stating that foreigners are prohibited from renewing their visa more than one time at the immigration office in Cape Coast if they have not left Ghana since their arrival. I have not left Ghana since I arrived in July, and I had already renewed my visa once in Cape Coast.

Traveling to a neighboring country to renew my visa was out of the question – I just needed a quick fix to tide me over until I go to Togo. I could’ve taken a three-hour tro-tro or Ford van ride to Accra, but I’ve read that the Accra office can take a couple days to sort out a visa renewal, and unfortunately I can’t afford to take time off from work right now. I considered what would happen if I would let my visa expire from December 8th until the 18th when I’d arrive to Togo, where I could get a new visa at the border. On second thought I decided I’d rather be on the good side of Togo’s border patrol – no need to ruffle any feathers by entering a country on an expired visa.

After telling Kirsty I could try going to Accra, she mentioned that our Ghanaian friend Eric has a friend in the immigration office in Cape Coast who would be able to take care of my situation in a matter of days. Days? What happened to the two-week process? On numerous occasions I’ve benefited from “knowing people” but never with this small amount of my own merit.

The weekend before my visa was due for a renewal, I started to doubt this alleged immigration connection. What if the guy can’t pull the strings Eric said he’d pull? If my visa isn’t returned by December 17th, I won’t be able to go to Togo – a vacation I’ve been looking forward to for months, down time I need desperately before the influx of volunteers coming January and an adventure I’m excited to share with my good friend who’s flying all the way from the U.S.

Okay, okay… surrender your throne, Drama Queen. Or is that more diva-like? Whatever, I would still be able to go to Togo, just not as long as I’d hoped. But still – the fact that I had anticipated this time crunch and could have taken the visa to Accra myself instead of relying on some random source… but why worry? All I can do now, I thought, is tell myself in my most Ghanaian voice, “It twill be fiiine.”

Two days before my visa expired, Kirsty got the phone number of the immigration guy from Eric. She had met the man, Jude (name has been changed for security purposes), a few weeks earlier when she was due for a renewal herself, so she called him to find out when I would be able to catch him at the immigration office. She returned to my office and relayed to me that Jude was in Accra Monday and Tuesday, so I should go to the Cape Coast immigration office on Wednesday. I’d been instructed not to leave visa renewals for the last minute, or “until the eleventh hour,” as a Ghanaian friend put it once. I hoped this guy knew my visa would expire that day but figured Kirsty or Eric had told him.

The day before my visa expired, my friend Joeva said she read that nine foreigners were deported recently for having expired visas. It was especially wonderful hearing this after I had already convinced myself the worst case scenario would be paying a 40-cedi fine for allowing the visa to expire, or not getting my visa returned before I wanted to leave for Togo. Thanks, Jo. Such a fountain of information, that girl.

Wednesday morning I went through the visa renewal checklist of required materials: a printout of my return flight itinerary, a letter written by a superior from my NGO requesting my visa renewal, a copy of my NGO’s certificate, 40 cedis for a one-month extension (I will request a 60-day visa upon my return to Ghana from Togo), and 5 cedis to get four passport-size pictures taken at the photo booth on my way to the immigration office. I walked from our office to the main junction and took a shared taxi to town. I alighted at Kingsway in front of the Melcom superstore and walked toward the Cape Coast slave castle to the photo booth just outside the immigration office.

I thought about joking with the photographer about why he didn’t ask to take my remaining two photos of the set of four (only two photos are required for visa purposes) like he did the last time he took my picture for my visa renewal in September, but decided against it. I didn’t think he’d remember me from the first time and reasoned he, like many Ghanaians, may not understand that sort of humor (“What, did I get uglier over three months?”).

I called Jude as I walked through the front entrance and waited at the door for him to meet me. The building contains more offices than just the immigration office, but to me the entire building is called the immigration office. It’s my favorite building in Ghana that I’ve been inside. It’s open-air; birds fly free and not silently and the blue sky is ceiling to maybe 8 to 10 floors, which are situated on the outside of the circular building and the central part of the ground floor is a circle of well-groomed grass.

A Ghanaian man in a jungle green immigration uniform sauntered toward me from the bottom of the staircase across the hall, one hand holding his cell phone to his ear and the other grasping a newspaper. His eyes were glued to me for about 10 paces - I was the only white person in the front entry way, so I figured he knew who I was. Respectively, I took him for Jude.

Now standing in front of me, he was still on the phone. I shook his hand and stood in front of him awkwardly as he finished his conversation.
“Hello, I am Michaela. Eric’s friend.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling from my face to my hand, which was still in his. “Is that your car?” He motioned to the car parked on the street in front of the entrance. A Ghanaian man was in the driver seat.
“Um, no, it’s not.”
“Oh,” he replied, sounding disappointed. He let go of my hand. “Is Eric coming?” he asked, looking outside again.
“No, he isn’t,” I told him. “He is in Accra today. With Kirsty, my sister you talked to on the phone on Monday.”
“Ohh, I see, I see, I see. How did you get here?”
“By taxi. I took a shared taxi from my office to town.” I may be an obroni and I may be a female, if that’s what he’s getting at, but that doesn’t make me helpless!

We walked across the hall to the staircase. “You have all the documents?” he asked.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“And Eric has told you everything?”
I paused. Told me everything? That sounds so omnious, I thought. What else is there to know?
“Yes, he has.”
Jude smiled. “Good. It will be fine then.”
What will be fine?

As he led me into his office I wondered if he could tell I hadn't a clue what he was talking about. Three wooden desks were arranged in the shape of a digital U and three wooden chairs were in the middle of the open space. Jude pulled one of the chairs over to the side of his desk, which was parallel with the window. “Sit here,” he told me. He tossed the newspaper on his desk and squeezed between the middle desk and his. I wondered how many months or maybe even years it would take him and the others he shared the office with to realize they wouldn’t have to squeeze between the desks if they would simply move the desks farther apart.

I took out of my bag the folder containing all the necessary documents and handed them to Jude. He leafed through my passport. “An American, I see. That is my favorite country. So when are you taking me to the U.S.?”

When Ghanaians ask me that question, normally I answer, “When you’ve saved up enough money for your plane ticket!” But I couldn’t say things like that to this man, or anyone who works for Ghana’s immigration offices for that matter. I needed to convince him I will do whatever it takes to stay in Ghana.

“Well, I love Ghana. I want to stay here for long long time. But maybe after that you can come to the U.S.” Because I’m in Ghana on a tourist visa, I couldn’t carry on and express my love for Ghana by telling him I want to stay for two years – that would blow my cover. No one is a tourist for two years.

We really need to light a fire under our employer's bum to get us the documents we need for a work visa.

“July…” he muttered to himself, flipping through the pages of my passport again.
“Yes, July. I’ve been here long time.” Saying that probably didn't help my case, but he would’ve done the math anyway. He examined my passport for another minute, closed it and said, “Wow.”

Something was wrong.

Jude looked at me and shook the passport his hand. “You’ve already renewed your visa in Cape Coast once. You should have taken it to Accra this time.”
“Yes, and Eric said you could help me so I wouldn’t have to take my visa to Accra this time.”
He opened the passport again and flipped through the pages to my visa. “It expires on eighth of December,” he paused. “That is today.”
“Yes,” I said sheepishly. This was one of the rare occasions I was not a procrastinator by choice. “But I am going to Togo on the 18th of this month, so I can get it renewed when I am reentering Ghana – ” He looked up at me and I finished, “ – That is the reason I only want a one-month extension.”
Jude continued to examine the visa page of my passport. “Yes, you can only renew your visa in Cape Coast one time. I will have to talk to my boss about this.”
“Oh, okay. Also, this may not be an issue yet but I will need my visa back before December 17th because I am going to Togo.”
“How long you stay in Togo?”
“About a week.”
“You are going alone?”
“No, I’m going with a friend. He’s coming to visit me. And Ghana.”
“Ah, that is nice,” said Jude, sitting back in his chair as if to admire me. “Is he your darling boy?”
“What? No!” I started laughing nervously. I knew how to deal with Ghanaian men who are hitting on me, but not from this angle. “He used to be my – ” Despite all my might, I couldn’t make myself say ‘darling boy’ with a straight face. “ – Well, we started dating before I came here.” I paused and looked at him. “Wait, how did you guess?”
“A girl as beautiful as you? Of course you have a darling boy!”

Hearing myself laugh nervously makes me laugh even harder.

“So now you are single?” Jude asked.
I tried to regain composure. “Yes.”
“Whoever marries you will be a very lucky man.”
"You are making me blush!” And I’m making myself sick! I noticed he was pulling the familiar move of hiding his wedding ring by hanging him arms underneath his desk, but his secret was out. I had already seen it.

Jude laughed and leaned in. “Yes, I will go talk to my boss now. But it’s not easy,” he said, shaking his head. “I will need to tell him to make an exception for you. But in return you will need to dash my boss. I will make this happen for you because I like Eric, I like the white lady I talked to on the phone – you said, Kristy?”
“Kirsty.”
“Yes, Kirsty.” He smiled, “And I like you. You are very nice and very nice to look at. I like the whites.”
I smiled and said, “Thank you, I like you too.”

Jude smiled again. Then he gathered my passport, photos and other documents in a pile and moved it to a corner of his desk. He opened up the newspaper to the middle, picked up the pile of my things and placed it inside. He closed the newspaper, folded it once and then stood up from his seat. Wedging the newspaper under his right arm, he shuffled sideways through the six-inch gap between the two desks. “Get your money ready,” he said and left the room.

I couldn’t believe how dirty those last words made me feel. I know bribes are a big part of how Africans do business and I understand that some bribes are like trading favors, but this particular bribe reeked of injustice. Plus, if I’m going to break any law, I’d rather do it on the fly. Premeditated dirty deeds are so much dirtier. He might as well had said, “Get your gun ready. You’re going to shoot someone.”