At the waiting area of the inner reception of Accra-based Kasapa 102.3 FM on Tuesday May 19, 2015, sat two young men.
In their late 20s, they wore an inferior look. The clothes they had on were clearly off from an environment mainly made up of persons formally dressed. Patiently, they waited for their turn to go for a scheduled interview with the station’s morning show host, Fiifi Banson.
The producers of Anopa Kasapa wanted something different away from the regular politics and ‘noise’ urban radio is used to. The plan was to bring in two people who had a story to tell. It worked.
Kwaku Owusu, a native of Asante Juaben, and Akwasi Boakye, also from Kodie in the Afigya-Kwabre district of the Ashanti region, honoured the invitation. Both shoemakers, they were to tell the story of life and how it is lived in the city.
Soon, they would be called into the studio at about a few minutes past nine. One after the other they took their seats in front of a man whose name they’ve heard of over the past few years.
Intimidated? No.
The confidence and urge to speak to the how-not-to-live stories they were used to, was evident. Akwasi, the pair’s other half would partially hum to an Amakye Dede song live on air. His microphone is released to the hearing of the listening public.
“This song reminds me of everything I have been through,” was his response to a question by Fiifi Banson on how the song became one of his favourites. The response kicked off a conversation that got Accra tuned in.
“We walk all day. It’s all about reaching for that small amount of money you can move around with at the end of a day’s work,” Boakye spoke to the issue of wanting to succeed at all cost in the capital, Accra.
Two years ago, after failing to make it pass second year of secondary education, he left his hometown for the ‘big city’ – in search of a better life. Twenty-four months on – his story is one with so many angles to it.
Like many of his colleagues who took the decision to head to Accra from the village, it had to be done the hard way. Boakye had no financial muscle so the only way he could afford was to steal.
His mother became the vehicle.
“I stole my mum’s 2.50 p (then 25, 000 cedis). I had to make the trip at all cost. The plan was to sneak in and inform her later. I did. She didn’t complain.”
Boakye’s confession of stealing from his mum is just a tiny fraction of a bigger personal struggle. The stealing wouldn’t end as he continued when he finally found his way into the city.
“When I came here, I had nothing to feed on so I went from stealing mobile phones to pickpocketing. It’s been rough.”
The third born of six told Banson the petty crimes he was involved with – although regrettable – had everything to do with surviving the harsh conditions he came to meet.
“I have regrets; but I had to do it somehow.”
Boakye would later meet a friend who sold the idea of shoemaking to him. He bought into it and started immediately. “I stopped the petty crimes. For me once I had laid my hands on something I could call work, I thought it was about time I stopped. So I did. I don’t remember the last time I picked someone’s phone or money.”
Boakye worked a side job of a ‘construction assistant’ back home in Kodie but failed to raise anything substantial. Funding a working tool as basic as a ‘shoe shine box’ was always going to be difficult.
But his friend came to his aid with the box. He was left to do all the struggle on his own. The story has gone from bad to worse in the past few years that he’s been around. Boakye’s narration of his sorry journey as a city shoemaker isn’t different from what Owusu has to tell.
He told his host he is still looking for that breakthrough.
In a make-shift, wobbly kiosk accommodation at Madina in the Greater Accra region, which he shares with one other person, he narrated the harrowing and sad tale of how he sometimes deserts the structure when the rains come down.
“We don’t sleep when it rains; it is a sad story. We always have to stand while it rained. A heavy downpour means we have to seek for refuge in nearby structures.”
The basic mathematics of shoemaking – the kind Boakye and Owusu are used to, makes any common economic logic sound all warped and corny. Buy somehow they survive.
On a good day, both Boakye and Owusu make between 15 to 30 Ghana cedis, out of which they pay for fees of public places of convenience. “The calculations don’t add up but we are still pushing.”
Owusu said he saves a daily fee of 5 cedis,” an investment habit he suggests is informed by the need to improve on a basic living.
Both say they are not completely unaware of the realities. The hustle is real for their likes so they come up with ways to sustain the pressures of living in the big city.
“I eat two times a day; I usually buy beans and heavily fill it with Gari so that it can stay on me for hours. When you live the kind of life I am used to, you have to strategise.”
Both say they have stayed away from drugs, but are quick to admit that the frustrations they’ve gone through have done very little to purge their minds off negativity.
“I have harboured thoughts of engaging in rituals for money. For me, the thoughts of hitting 30 years and not having anything to show for is my biggest fear.
“I wouldn’t mind using my male sex organ as sacrifice. If it happens that I have to do it I wouldn’t mind.
“But I have not given up entirely,” said Owusu who has a six-year-old son from a failed relationship.
Very much aware of the happenings in Ghana, both would later speak to the issue of exploitation by politicians, suggesting they were wiser now. With Ghana heading to the polls next year, both gentlemen say the basic issues of bread and butter will matter to them.
Boakye and Owusu’s story reflects a society’s blight. For years, the issue of rural-urban migration continue to be a bother to city authorities.
With very little achieved over the years, and no clear roadmap for its end, such stories will continue to be told.
From dusk to dawn, it stares officialdom in a manner that exposes their incompetence. But entirely blaming the politician may not be fair as the likes of Boakye and Owusu may also have to share in the inefficiencies.
As they both concede, the pastures are not greener after all at this side of the country. But there is a recurring temptation, Boakye admitted.
“When you travel to seek for greener pastures and you are not done with the hustling, you can’t give up entirely. Whatever God’s plans are for me will surely come to pass.”
Akwasi, however, disagrees and opined: “No need coming all the way down here to hustle. The pastures may be full of rags.”
A Kasapa 102.3 FM Special/kasapafmonline.com/Ghana
