Dear Diary, It is past nine and am on my way home. I have missed you I must say. I can give several reasons why I have been gone for so long, but am here trying to write about the blame game, so let me not start by making excuses. Excuses have gotten us (Ghanaian) where we are now. I must say that my spirit dies a slow death when I think of some of these things, and in order not to die slowly, we all try to find humor, make jokes etc.
On my way home today there was a radio discussion about filth & corruption (another version of filth) in Ghana. I tried not to listen and could have changed channels and listened to some Azonto music to take me home. The night before it was Reba McEntire. I listened, my fingers just could not change the channel so I listened. I got upset, the callers were upset, the host was upset. We all were upset. Should I call?
You should. No, yes, no, yes, no, yes, no. Ping, this is the last call am taking I heard him say. Ah well, its not my fault, the show is over anyway. Liar, liar pants on fire. Coward! You just did not have the guts to call. Yes I did, I told myself. I had a battle within.
Then I remembered that every caller was talking about how we play the blame game. In the mist of the calls explaining that we were blaming each other, they forget that they are still doing so. What have we done to fix this country? Myself include. I should be ashamed of myself.
In kindergarten, we were thought a poem that went this way:
Everybody was sure that somebody will do it, and anyone could have done it, but nobody ended up with the task.
That is how this country has become, we blame everyone else but our selves. We blame somebody for destroying our water bodies, the earth that feeds us, the air we breathe, our religion, our culture etc. etc. etc. We blame and expect somebody to fix it, and in the end …
Adios Diary Dearest. Talk to you soon!!
ADEL DIARIES 