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| A path through the Bolgatanga NTC |
The Bolgatanga Nurses Training College is not far from
where I live. It is yet to be completely fenced. A dry path runs through the
open campus to the Regional Hospital, with a lonely baobab tree on its shoulder.
It is my road to work almost every morning. It is common to see students walk
briskly from hostels into lecture halls, some of them still adjusting their
wears on the way with books held to their armpits and pens in-between their
lips. Our paths often cross.
Recently, I was passing through, late for a programme
underway somewhere. I was almost out of the premises when a student ran to me
from behind, calling me only when he was close. When I stopped, he looked round
very quickly; then, he mentioned his name. He asked when and where would be
suitable to meet me with some of his fellow students for a secret talk about
the Management of the college.
*A BRIEF RECALL
It was late night. Before the prearranged phone chat,
I recalled that some students of the same college anonymously had published some
allegations in a private newspaper against the same Management. That was 2008.
At my own invitation, the Management appeared in the
studio of Rock FM with a few executives of the Students’ Representative Council
(SRC) and an official from the Regional Health Directorate to react to those
allegations. I was the station’s News Editor at the time. I put their defence live
on air— free of charge. The Management, led by the Principal,
left the station relieved like a grasscutter freed from a tight rope. It did
not end there. Thereafter, I was plagued with verbal gash and silent looks that
wished me dead. I thought I only did my job; but some angry students thought
otherwise. And they were not afraid to show it.
Again, I recalled that a usually mute ‘madman’ once suddenly
scared off some passers-by around the college. Like one who had decided to let
out a long-kept boiling observation, he roared out loud and everyone went in
different directions almost bare in the feet. He wears a wig-like bunch of obese
dreadlocks and a costume of rags that drip diesel to the ground. He roams,
voicelessly looking downwards and sideways as though in search of something—which he never finds. Occasionally, he hunts vultures around
the Regional Hospital’s incinerator behind the mortuary, not far from the
college. Sometimes, he laughs alone. His laughter scares people away because it
comes suddenly, loud and no one can tell whatever has caused the laughter. All that
can be seen is a mouth rich in ‘minerals’, an incomplete set of teeth that only
resembles a looted cemetery and a tongue darkened like a tarred road in an
abandoned slum.
It takes a high level of care to involuntarily share
the same path with him, especially when drawing close. It is advised not to
walk briskly past him. He might interpret it for a challenge. I am not sure he
is aware that he is highly respected. His posture commands for him the honour
he himself does not demand.
I recalled one thing that came out of his mouth on the
day he scared people— the day he decided to speak. As
his respecters watched him from afar, he said (in English and pointing at the
college): “I, too, can be a nurse. But the school will take my money for
nothing. They will take my money chop onions, buy car, build, carry woman.”
* THRERE IS SENSE IN
NONSENSE
No one might have immediately understood if there was
any connection between his condition and a college for nurses. I did not
immediately understand either. Like the rest, I muttered the words to myself
and, because they tickled my ears, I laughed.
But in-between that incident and the time I heard a
whisper from the student, the Rural Media Network (RUMNET) in partnership with
the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) had assembled journalists in a workshop
on conflict prevention and human security.
It took place in Tamale and lasted two days—from 24th to 25th in November, 2011. When officials
from the West Africa Network for Peacebuilding Ghana (WANEP-Ghana) took their
turn to make a presentation, they stressed that reliable early warning signs sometimes
were disgorged to the public by people often despised—the staggering drunkard or one who is mentally ill.
Months later, a Data Analyst at the Human Security Early
Warning Centre of WANEP-Ghana, Albert Yelyang, laid the same emphasis when he interacted
with some members of the Interparty Youth Dialogue Committee (IPYDC) and youth
groups during a conflict management seminar organised by the Youth Empowerment
Synergy Ghana (YES-Ghana).
* ALLEGATIONS OR REVELATIONS?
After the flashback had faded, I
took a slow sip of mashed kenkey and dialed the number to now hear from the
student. He responded. And I had my ears full.
He told me it was a long tradition
for the Management to levy each student hundreds of Ghana cedis as feeding fees;
the kitchen staff carried some of the food stuffs away in bags and gallons; and
the Management always shielded them. According
to him, a vehicle comes at night, and when it seems no one is watching, it is
loaded from the food store. It sneaks out. Then it comes another day. This
year, each fresh student was charged a whistling feeding fee of GH¢800.00 just
for a year. The Management denies it. It is in the admission letter, a signed copy
of which I have. I am told the continuing students were charged the same
amount.
Some of the tutors are discontent
about the serial secret looting of the food store. One of such, whose name I
can mention only to the Economic and Organised Crime Office (EOCO) and the
Bureau of National Investigations (BNI) to assist investigations, told me in
plain terms that the Management itself was long aware of it and consistently
had refused to act despite reports from some concerned tutors. Ridiculously
asking for hard evidence is all the action the Management reportedly takes and
nothing beyond that.
The concerned tutors together
with some angry, hungry students secretly organised a vigilante network. And just
this November (2012), a popular taxi driver in Bolgatanga was caught in the
night swelteringly loading from the mouth of the food store. He had pulled two
bags of maize, one bag of rice and a gallon of cooking oil onto the vehicle.
In swift defence, he told the
impatient mob that what they just saw was an errand by the matron in charge of
the kitchen. He said he was taking the items to the mill in their own
(students’) interest. So they asked if he was also going to mill the rice and the
oil. Whilst he was searching for an answer with beads of cold sweat on his
forehead, some of the students walked to the vehicle and deflated all its four tyres.
Lynching came near. But he freed himself suddenly, abandoned everything and ran
away with both eyes shut.
Alive but hiding, he confirmed
to me in a recorded telephone interview that he was sent by the matron to send
the rice and oil to a house. Then, he repeatedly told me he was innocent. In another
recorded telephone interview, the matron in charge of the kitchen told me she
had asked the taxi driver to convey the items to the college’s kitchen supervisor
who reportedly had a father’s funeral to perform.
Granted that the items really
were heading in the said direction, I asked whether it was proper to donate food
meant for poor students towards a funeral of a staff member’s relative. And the
rest of the conversation was stammers, coughs and hiccups. Up to now, the
kitchen supervisor would not pick phone calls from unfamiliar numbers. Whether
the person is a man or a woman, I only wish I could tell. All I have is the
person’s Vodafone number. It is obvious the supervisor was immediately informed
about a possible, impending interrogation after I had spoken to the matron. I
sent a text on the issue to that line and several calls followed for days, yet
there is not a flash back from that number. It is possible the person may have been
advised to refrain from making comments so the matter may die.
“That is what they are doing
there,” said an angry-looking taxi driver on my way to meet the Principal of
the College. The Principal, Moomin Mac Musah, had declined to talk to the issue
in a telephone interrogation. He said he preferred a “one-on-one” talk. Even
though I told him the telephone conversation we were having already was one-on-one,
he insisted on face-to-face.
As the car drove towards the
college, the taxi driver continued: “The Management is corrupt and has no
conscience. They need to transfer that Principal and some tutors from the
school. We’re taxi drivers; our station is close to the school. We carry the students’
everyday in our taxi; they tell us everything. Some of us have our family
there, studying there. They carry their food in the night to their house and to
some stores in town to sell. The one who went there and they caught him, we
know him. I know the taxi driver. He’s called…”
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| Kitchen of the Bolgatanga NTC |
And this is what the
Principal, surprisingly standoffish and very cold, told me after I had barely
sat down in his office and asked him about the reported food pillaging: “How
does that concern you? How does that concern the public?” He paused, stood up
from the sofa where I had met him at my arrival and walked to his table. He
stood by the table; then, peered at me behind his ‘Gandhi’ goggles. “This is an
internal matter. Look, I have the right to respond or choose not to respond.”
He said it ‘I-don’t-caringly’,
with a scowl and a demeaning look. And it ended there. He would not say
anymore. I was so dumbfounded, considering the time and the fare wasted to meet
him only for the same person who invited me to his office to rebuff in this
manner, that I even forgot to ask of the ‘evasive’ kitchen supervisor as I had intended.
I was embarrassed. I had my face and fingers ‘burnt’.
Six questions here,
quickly. If all he told me in his office was the reason he had asked for a
face-to-face interview, couldn’t he have just mentioned this on phone? Should
we stop investigating alleged corruption because everyone can say it is an internal
matter? Are journalists excluded from holding duty bearers accountable to the
public on such issues as alleged shoplifting and malfeasance? Why did the same Principal
not tell me it was an internal matter when I invited him over to Rock FM to
refute the 2008 allegations? When fire gutted the female hostel in 2011, was it
not an internal matter when the same Principal granted me hours of interview
for a publication in the Daily Dispatch? And when the Daily Dispatch in 2010 published
an exclusive interview story with the same Principal on the chronic challenges
sinking the college, I guess that one was an external matter— right?
An unexplained long looting
spree; the Principal does not want to talk to the media about it; the kitchen
supervisor will not pick calls. What do you think?
“Injustice Anywhere Is a Threat To Justice Everywhere”— Martin Luther
King Jr.
My late-night telephone
conversation with the student continued. Some students joined him later, and
spoke to me in turn. Another issue brought up is alleged registration of unqualified
students for the final examinations— the licensure.
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| Bolga NTC |
Later, the Management
reportedly published names of only qualified candidates, leaving the dropouts
in suspicion that their monies had gone for “onions”.
The list, which was
nailed at a height reachable to only Management, was removed and later
reappeared several inches longer. More names had been added— resurrected and
recovered names of some ‘patients’ who reportedly had been referred to ‘Korle-Bu’.
I have some of the names they mentioned. They also mentioned a senior tutor,
Williams Sebil, as the Principal’s main ‘lawmaker’ and perceived ‘heir
apparent’ who words are widely described as “unfavourable” laws— the rigid laws
of Persia none can tip over. Other tutors were mentioned with what they do, but
I will hold on to those names till detailed subsequent publications.
When I met the Principal in
his office with two other newsmen (Osman Issah Abadoo of Word FM and Radio
Gold, Albert Sore of A1 Radio and Joy FM), we were told that the added names initially
had their examination scripts fraught with marking errors— an excuse some demoted
students still say is an unwholesome lie.
In addition, came another
report that the last episode of the college’s annual trip of students to Ankaful
in the Central Region as part of the necessary clinical exposure for final-year
students turned torture. The Management had promised to transport the students,
about 160 of them, on three Metro Mass buses, but ended up bringing only one
bus— which purportedly was so out of shape that only the name ‘yellow elephant’
could describe it.
Some students stood on
the bus from the Upper East Region to the Central Region. The Management itself
confirmed it to us (Osman, Albert and me). Furious at such treatment, a number
of them boldly decided to go on their own. And when they returned they were asked
to pay GH¢35.00 each as what the students described to me as “punishment” for
opting out of the bus.
They also claim that SRC
dues which are meant for students’ activities and are supposed to be in the SRC
treasury are rather with the Management and are nowhere to be found whenever they
are needed for the purposes. The Management denies but those students strongly insist
on their claim.
Recently, an announcement
from the Management rocked the student body. It said only students with less
than two referrals in the last final examinations would write in 2013 whilst those
with more referrals would have to wait till 2014. It is the first time such has
happened. Although some reckon that the announcement may be a directive from
the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC), they think there is an internal twist
somewhere. When I asked the Principal for explanation on the development, all he
vaguely could tell me was he was not an examiner. He would not say more. Affected
students and their relatives are yet to come to terms with the shock— a shock almost
comparable to a pain cold-bloodedly inflicted on a mother, Rose Sore, when the
Management this year expelled her son, Martin Sore, a final-year student on the
grounds of examination malpractices.
On Martin, whom many
students and some tutors say they can vouch for as a talented and clever
student who will never hurt a fly, the Management claims a disciplinary
committee has found him guilty and deserving of irreversible expulsion. He is
reported to have leaked an examination paper and refused to show remorse before
the committee. All Martin needed to dodge the ‘axe’ of expulsion was to
disclose the source of the leaked paper. He said he only saw the material in a
book and, carried away by the discovery, did not bother to look at the name
written on the book let alone to remember the owner. This submission was enough
for the committee to say he was a bold liar with a mind made up to be
sacrificed as a hero for the rest. And speechless like a lamb, he was dragged
to the blazing altar. He bled out of the school.
Meanwhile an old student
of the school says: “It is the same tutors [some] that leak the papers to some
of the students, especially the female students. The girls would come and tell
us what was happening.”
Many believe the Management
loathes Martin because the poor boy is an extraordinary campus music star whose
shine the Management finds odd with nursing. Contrary to public expectations
that Martin’s balanced swing between the ‘studio’ and the ‘ward’ would make him
a good ‘steward’, like some accomplished examples who have succeeded in a
combination of their gifts and professions, the Management rather seems to have
at long last found an outlet in an isolated misconduct to get rid of him firmly
and completely.
Martin himself says the
report that he was not remorseful and lying about the source of the material is
false. His elder brother, Albert Sore, says just a suspension for Martin would
have done enough good for the college and Martin’s family who had spent so much
bringing him up to that final-year level. Eminent personalities, including a
paramount chief, have in vain pleaded with the Management. The Principal is
reported to have unemotionally told the boy’s worried father: “We have taken
our decision. There is nothing we can do about that. I’m surprised you are yet
to come to terms with the reality that your child has been dismissed. Is it
because of the investments you’ve made in his life? What could you have done if
he had died?”
*THE VOICE OF THE PUBLIC
The people have spoken.
Freedom is when people speak. Democracy is when government listens. In a place
where there is a constitutional government that has ears, the people should not
live in pain. There is a groundswell of public clamour for investigations into
the happenings and allegations at the Bolgatanga Nurses Training College.
You may have heard Dr. Seidu Alhassan, University for
Development Studies (UDS) Senior Lecturer, when in his poverty profile of the north
he said 7 out of every 10 people in the Northern Region, 8 in every 10 in the
Upper East Region and 7 among the same number in the Upper West Region went to
bed hungry.
Who does not know that the national headquarters of
the international monster called “poverty” in Ghana is in the north with many
corrupt, faceless ‘country directors’? Yet, it is in the same region a human
institution like the Bolgatanga Nurses Training College invites hundreds of
admission-seeking students from poverty-besieged families every year and asks each
person to pay a shadowy amount of Gh¢30.00 as interview fee. All they are told is that
the fee is for refreshment of interview candidates. And all they are served in
a hot weather is a warm bottle of sprite and kindergarten biscuits.
You would want to
multiply that amount by the colossal turnout of desperate interview candidates,
every year. And you would want to shake your head and dab your eyes if you
heard that a jaw-dropping number of these brilliant candidates come from
households that survive on skinny and erratic sales from riskily gathering
fruits from a forest floor, firewood, peanuts and shea-butter in remote parts
of the north where there are no mobile networks.
This year, each interview
candidate was asked to pay another GH¢30.00 for verification of each
examination results slip. Every individual who had three slips to verify paid GH¢90.00—
which, added to the interview fee of GH¢30.00, drained every already-empty
pocket of GH¢120.00. Multiply the figures by the turnout. It happens every year
when authorities themselves know that more than half of those poor candidates
will not be admitted— but their monies, which came through a pool of sweat, are
blown into the wild wind! Just like that. And just like that.
There is a growing call for
immediate, external investigations into all the issues raised here by real
people who are ready to talk to people they can trust, people who will act as
they should.
The table has turned
round. In 2008, I heard the Management. In 2012, I listened to some students, a
few tutors, some parents, and some observers— including the ‘madman’ who says
he, too, can be a nurse but he is afraid his money will go into “onions”.
One of the worries that
motivated me to bring out this issue for security agencies, early warning networks
and legal organisations to take swift action is what a taxi driver said: “It
might not be long: there will be confusion in the school. What the Management
is doing, a time is coming the students will not take it again. They [the
students] talk about it inside our taxi and we hear.”
People who say they are victims
of irresponsible decisions have done their best. They want the EOCO and the BNI
to do the rest. And I doubt the strength of the Management to stand in the path
of a hurricane when the EOCO and the BNI descend. Maybe the EOCO and the BNI,
too, would be told: “How does that concern you? How does that concern the
public? This is an internal matter. Look, I have the right to respond or choose
not to respond.”
This is a mirror of an alleged
exchange of gains for pains. It is not the end of the matter. I stand by my
job— maybe at my own risk.
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