Probability

Among cre­ation’s perma­nents, years succeed years. It is not disputed that this period is when everyone of us thinks hard and long—success, disappoint­ments from crashed hopes. But the primate in the process remains hope. Hope for us in this country, is projected in ‘’obeye ye yie’’—’it will be well’, in other words. How­ever, as much as it is the constant, we don’t dispute that it is inconsis­tent as regards outcomes. But then, we persist on hope to dream about better in the following year. You know E.K. Nyame sang ‘’Akwank­waa Hiene’’ (Akwanko Hiena—the vagrant hopeful). The depth of meaning is very philosophical.

All it is saying is hope, it will be well and will get home someday. The dream-package this time until festivities are over, consists expec­tancies—business, jobs progres­sion and receiving and giving gifts. These hang strangely on probabil­ity which is a tricky speculation. In Fantse we call it ‘’enyidado.’’ Some of its projections, indeed majority lead into the future, inevitably. That is, its greatest quality depends on, or not—jinx and sphinx which are daunting. Yet, as only times and days or nights defy this firmness, it is improbable not to imagine though, that come next year at corresponding date, we would have seen from off into in a new epoch in our history, whichever pans out. And the worse is what’s to come would also be decided on too many variables—mind boggling.

The safest is focussing on the immediate, celebrating Christ­mas’ bouts of ‘’THINKING­ITES’’—‘adwendwen,’ except the never had it so good. I over­heard an old lady urging ‘’nyame bohwe.’’—‘God will provide,’ approximately refined-translat­ed. As I mused, I answered the door bell. A ‘’born-one’’ grand­daughter. She had come to pick up her presents and my great grands before she lost out at the end of the usual queue of her aunties and relatives. Why that earliest? I have a personal preference to have done the parcels to have them delivery by the close of first week end in December, having done all my festive shopping by end of October; and parcelled-ready for whom deserved. This time—niet and worrying to resolve my embar­rassment, making excuses. I had to answer the door and there was a granddaughter ahead to collect her presents before she was a loser the term before. My response was dry and felt badly disappointing, whatever platitudes I spoke pretty incoherently. I decided to en­gage her in one of my favourites troubling God in a conversation. Initially I felt her grandpa was going off his rocker. But she sat still perplexed closest reading the dialogue as I typed. She jumped: ei grandpa! You ask the old man that’’? I replied positively. And carried on taking notes.

Old Man: tell your granddaugh­ter ‘I have provided.’

Nana: Papa you heard what I told her earlier, eaves dropped.

Old Man: I put that in your mouth.

nana: Ah Jeremiah? What else ? how to send her back confident and happy.

Old Man: pray with her well after saying the blessing.

nana: woah whe asem oooh.

Old Man: clear your stock of what are in your cupboard and dispatch her.

nana: that leaves me ‘kwataa’

Old Man: never mind and go and rest.

Nana: don’ answer the next bell call.

Old Man: answer you don’t have; you don’t.

nana: I can’t bear the embarrass­ment, pretending and I have not learnt that from you to lie and is it change of mouth Papa.

Old Man: I continue to instruct you and be steadfast, I insist.

Nana: this is empty or with respect not doing ‘doubting Thomas.’

Old Man: I laugh. Do what I had said, whatever your difficulty. Just be as honest to let any after your granddaughter’s has left. This is the time son was arriving with all the goodies.

Nana: is that what is character­ised as “GOOD TIDINGS” and its only once a year.

Old Man: whatever your inter­pretation.

Nana: I am tempted to enquire could there be other interpreta­tions- serve, selflessness and love and what else Papa…oh! Oh! and one of your people (is it Prophets) writing ‘do good; love justice and you walk happily with you—un­seen et al. Am I hard at hearing or just troublesome, perhaps becom­ing intransigent infidel.

Old Man: none of the above. You do well on that text too; its Christmas don’t worry; gifts and your people; I am firm on my command ‘’go and rest.’’

There was not much; but the lucky granddaughter scooped everything away. I was wonder­ing who might be next. I doubt that I had the rest ordered; and fidgeted wondering about and imagined there was someone at the door, peeped the door spy in vain and gave up. I audited the books shelves for John Bunyan’s ‘’Pilgrims Progress.’’ I knew I had a solid fantse version also by one of the paucity of Methodist’s greats Gardiel R. Acquaah. He re-titled it ‘’Kwantunyi Na Akwantu.’’ Failed and slumped into a sofa, gone—sleep-stolen. I guess my hope was gone, longish though not able to stop worrying. I had early morning read from one the usual biblical tracts we share daily with family and friends. It had said ‘’quit worrying.’’

My handset phone (mobile) shrilled and picked up. A foreign voice mis-enunciated my name and I shouted back a correction. He obliged thankfully. Actual­ly, I recall I had heard him as I steadied my nerves waiting my voiceful response to him humming his while-you-wait, a Christmas carol—”Oh come all ye faithful.” I managed restoration of self-calm­ness because like responding to the Kids in England soliciting “Penny for the Guy” (Guy Fawkes). He and a fellow conspired to blow up Parliament) celebrated in Novem­ber, less than a month back. Let me state the English Christmas door-step appeals are for account­able genuine charity causes. Hold on;

I should try a sum up of the conversation with ‘’Pops’’ to pre­lude the conclusion of a everyone has today in a harsh quandary and necessitated it. I had not done any shopping to parcel Christmas gifts as customary, mine. It was past my deadline and then a first grand­daughter arrived to collect ahead of the queue. Her disappointment which was though a priceless-take-away for her at the end, had occasioned the recourse to the Old Man. After all, the season is his son’s birth-time to give and sacri­fice in two hopes: a return (spiri­tual blessings and physical rising profile) If I am short, it confesses that I am not a trained professional God’s stand-in on earth but moved in enough to let others outside know that they are not alone.

In ‘’Pilgrim’s Progress’’ the arrival felt satisfying: “Now reader, I have told my dream to thee (you);…But if you cast it away as vain, I know not but ‘twill make me dream again,’’ At Latin Class in St Augustine’s, our Latin Master ‘’BB’’ would call: “Caesar, what did he do? We’ll see in a moment.’’

I opened the door to the caller at my home. A middle-aged man with Irish accent. After the pleasantries were over, he asked me to sign receipted a heap of five packag­es. This was the noon or evening deliveries from the GPO. (There were two per day; or, indeed a rare third usually to do with emergency medicals for difficult to move el­derly). He helped move them into the living room. A tip in apprecia­tion was highly appreciated. I was running around the packages to open or not and which one first. I had dropped an accompanying Bill of Laden, despite logic dictating the urge to find the source of that “good Samaritan.’’ Courage finally took control. They came from “All of us, your children. Merry Christ­mas Dad.’’

As the growing sense strength­ened, I remembered “go and rest and will provide.’’ Such is the quality of probability as 2023 and us mutually say goodbye shortly.

“Afe hyia pa. Afe nko mboto hen bio”—the year has ended and should come back to meet us again. We cheerfully greet our­selves. It seems a self-assured pre­sumed certainty, a positive above probability for our lives. Country?

By enlargement, the only salient is the country would have been ushered into another year to scheme a new regime by the close, with mixed anticipations including rigidly perhaps, to either be the proverbial “Magicians’’ which Nigerians once described Ghanaians. Those were during difficult times historically; or, they should, is the ability to put the pieces together. For the nation, the added-on, would be to vote; and in the following next, anticipate a restart towards turn around. It is because the historical narrative of this country’s record continues to contain failures and as unfolds, there is no disguising the feeling clamours for new arguments and new modus operandi, given both the flow of conventional wisdom and common knowledge of the country has fallen short. But we have our “obeye yie.”

Merry Christmas, confessing that it sounds superficial now –hollow in probability—mais (but) aga kple okataa melio; tso! Still, the Old Man will provide—gbe fee boni dsi or at whatever cost—trusting certainty which will dispel prob­ability. I mean the Old Man who has brought us this far, without pretending to usurp the pulpit—HOPE, “bei soro” or no fear.

By Prof Nana Essilfie-Conduah.