Witchcraft and a Bloated NDC Voters Register
By JayJay D Segbefia Me, I was driving two days ago, you see, from the Ngmayem Festival of the Manya Krobo people when it started to rain cats, dogs and baboons. And at the Shai Hills Resource Reserve intersection of all places, home to many congresses of baboons. The deluge was so intense I strained to see a yard beyond my bonnet. My ears, however, had no difficulty listening to General Mosquito of the NDC make his palm-wine tapping presentation on the radio to the EC’s forum on the Voters’ Register. When Citi FM ended his remarks to switch to commercials, I switched to Joy FM to hear more of his brilliantly ludicrous baboon-sounding logic, the most laughable being the assertion there was no need to change the voters’ register because Ghanaians die every day and they take their fingerprints with them. General paaa? And then the other news hit. Ledzokuku Krowor constituency of the NDC had incinerated several voters’ registers on exhibition. Their beef? Not much. The darn register was bloated, they accused, and therefore not worthy to be used to conduct the November 7 NDC primaries. “Bollocks!” I said to Me. Couldn’t they have audited, screened, verified, reviewed, cleaned, scrubbed, lathered, scented or otherwise re-examined the poor register? Then it hit my prefrontal cortex. Our eagled-umbrella cousins don’t like big English. I mean, why line up a team of seasoned researchers and some dada-bee software to do facial, nose-hair and eye-brow recognition to come up with findings of infiltrated voters to later present in the Queen’s tongue to an unappreciative nation alleging many infractions of the electorally-fraudulent tenor when you can just grab and scorch the darn offending register? And that’s exactly what they did. They rained some diesel on the misbegotten registers and set them ablaze the way all bloated registers should. Other constituencies had been prevented from doing so in the nick of time by opinion leaders and Police. This isn’t rocket science, really. Just burn the frigging register. And, if they ask, tell them the register is bloated with elephant infiltrators who bleed red, white and blue – the perfect reason to rain diesel and a matchstick on the registers, darn it! I mean, who wants an NPP-infiltrated register in an NDC primary election? Never mind that the national register that is infiltrated with close to eighty thousand Togolese and other nationals is sitting smugly in the EC’s vault, enjoying the sacred security of hi-tech, fire-proof and bomb-proof containers. In spite of General Mosquito’s claims that the National Voters’ Register is fine where it’s at, except for a smidgen of audit once in never, his party people felt the party’s anthrax-bloated registers deserved no such treatment. “To the flames,” they chanted. And they say it’s the elephant that needs its head looked into for distended screws? The NDC has consistently tribalised the public debate about a new voters’ register, even going the dangerous extent of pitching the NPP against Ewes. And we all know why that is so. Abdul Malik Kwaku Baako refers to it as “deep seated intellectual impotence”. And it showed in Ledzokuku. Eagled-umbrellans saw their names absent in the voters register and noted the presence of strange names and resolved the anomaly with fire and brimstone – no long intellectual discussion biaaa. Ashes to ashes. Simple. That’s the part that has me flummoxed, you understand? How does a party that is so intellectually dimmed to so-much-as a hint of a bloated national voters’ register develop the intellectual acuity to know its own register is compromised? That’s what baffles me. This shamelessness and downright – You, it’s ok. I don’t wish the NDC well. Actually, I wish it would wither and die. But even I have to wonder once in a while how they could be the way they are in their many inconsistencies. After coming up with that passionate stance on leaving the national voters register well alone, how do they get the nerve to put “bloated” and “voters’ register” in one sentence in this miserable excuse of a Republic? The answer is plain and simple… witchcraft of the palm-wine variety. There. I said it. They can go rot in the Korley, or better still bring in the darn emergency barges. Nonsense in black, red, white and green umbrellas.