George Sydney Abugri is a prolific, multi-award winning, Ghanaian newspaper journalist. He trained as a science and mathematics teacher, but migrated to journalism after a decade of teaching.

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Homeward bound in Ananse’s shadow

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 18 November 2011

I have been bee-busy rehearsing my assumed role as the perfect, brand new pensioner, complete with a thoroughly grey skull, facial wrinkles, creaky joints and a discernibly emerging grumpiness to match.

I had anticipated heading straight for the Savannah on retirement and lazing under a shade tree in the village market square drinking pito and eating cooked dog meat with spices. Not a very bad idea at all if you are a poet and a native of the Savannah seeking the perfect setting in traditional time and space in which to dream.

Gaddafi, the weatherman and my peanuts

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 28 October 2011

I never ever say I told you so whenever my incoherent rumbling hits the bull's eye with prophetic accuracy as it often does, do I ever?

This time around I do, Jomo: I told you the bizarre and complex meteorological changes raging on across the globe had hit our region and were threatening to render the meteorologist and his weather forecasting accoutrements redundant, didn't I?

A stranger called Zingaro

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 14 October 2011

…and blackmailing the president for a fair wage

There is apparently more to the meteorological complications of climate change than the attendant extreme conditions of heat and cold and drought and floods, Jomo: Imagine great and mighty torrents suddenly cascading from the heavens over Accra and Kumasi in the middle of October and wreaking havoc on property, but never mind, for we have a more urgent task at hand:

Lend your imagination free rein with paint and brush to paint this picture, Jomo: It is one of a busty, full-bodied female with a shock of blond hair and in tight jeans rolled back to the knee from the heel, cowboy riding boots, tight-fitting designer blouse and sunglasses resting on her hair above the forehead:

The reign of the bandit

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 23 September 2011

...and the phantom’s blood feast on the highways

By the time the ruling party and the largest opposition party are done with their frantic obsession with political power, there wont be a single voter left in Ghana to cast a ballot for either of them, because by then, the 25 million of us would have been very dead, Jomo, killed one and all by armed robbers and gory road accidents.

Going by the official statistics which appear to be very gross underestimates, an average of six people are killed in road accidents in Ghana everyday but then, once every so often, the casualties in a single accident range between 20 and 50.

Dr. Winful as one of his patients

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 21 October 2011

There is this bizarre hybrid language called Akanglish which has suddenly intruded into our cultural linguistics. I always get a triple mix of merriment, fascination and incredulity as Akan news readers struggle with admirable gallantry to get the Akan equivalents of browse, download, twitter, search engine, facebook, u-tube etc.

If information and communication technologies and their strange dialects are giving local language news readers nightmares, another fast emerging language of social and industrial conflict is not helping matters for local language broadcasters either.

The adventures of Kobby

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 07 October 2011

.....and the less mundane matter of our threatened poll

Between Lucifer and the angels, we mortals are all good and bad in varying degrees either way and that includes the policeman: The good cop catches thieves and robbers all the time and keeps the peace with admirable professional gallantry. The bad cop extorts bribes from the public all the time and keeps the now hackneyed policeman’s chant of the highway perpetually at top pitch:

Where is your driver’s license..? Reflective warning triangle..? Fire extinguisher..? First aid box..? Corporal, quick, process this man for court. There is no butazulogen in his first aid box! Hey, what is butazulogen officer? You will find out in court. Alright officer, as one small favour in return for another, please take…

A crisp dollar from Prof. Aryeetey

Written by George Sydney Abugri | 16 September 2011

I watched a cat terrorize a fishmonger in my neighbourhood a couple of days ago. The monger hawked fresh fish from door to door, meticulously descaling the fish with a knife before handing the household orders to her customers.

As the monger went about her task, the cat was all over her with bared teeth and a menacing meow. The monger would wave her off with the knife but the little terrorist of a feline would be back in seconds, her meow assuming the pitch of a shriek.

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Homeward bound in Ananse’s shadow

Gaddafi, the weatherman and my peanuts

A stranger called Zingaro

The reign of the bandit

Dr. Winful as one of his patients

The adventures of Kobby

A crisp dollar from Prof. Aryeetey