By Kwesi Yankah
In the past few days, weeping has made headlines beyond funerals: “Wife slaps cheating husband to tears,” or “Kejetia Market in flames, traders in tears.”
Of higher news value are celebrity tears, where journalists are even compelled to add the expression “wept uncontrollably.”
Here, the big man himself may have been caught weeping (maa maa maa) like a baby.
Men’s tears at women’s funerals are often unseen, except for widowers, whom custom permits to shed a few tears to appease relations of the dearly departed.
A widower’s dry eyes could raise suspicion. “Barima Nsu” (a real man avoids tears) is often the standard consolation from women, who may rather seek to provoke an emotional outpouring from men with stony eyes.
Whatever you do, however, please avoid crocodile tears, or you may be whisked away to Paga for verification.
Recall the famous crocodile pond, which I visited in 2017 during a formal trip to Bolgatanga Polytechnic (now a university).
I did so partly as a tourist, but also out of curiosity to witness “crocodile tears.” Were the tears of Debrah borrowed from Paga’s reptiles?
The problem with Julius Debrah is that he appears to be shedding someone else’s tears in her absence.
Dr. Debrah seemed to say, “I hereby weep uncontrollably on behalf of the CEO of the Free Zones Board, who made that offensive utterance but has been unwilling to cry.
I hereby wear her eyeballs to weep.” That is what Julius appeared to be saying at his 60th birthday ‘key soap’ concert.
Seeing a big man publicly cry in celebratory attire is rare.
In truth, Julius refused to let bygones be bygones. His government, currently grappling with a reset agenda, understands the political implications of offending a church leader with millions of followers.
Votes in the 2028 elections may indeed flee “Pentecostally” if the damage is not swiftly controlled.
The public tears of Julius Debrah, a likely presidential contender, thus bore the trappings of Paga reptiles; they were meant to seal the deal and clear the path for a presidency he eyes.
Very few, however, stop to ask about the genesis of this drama.
On April 22, Apostle Eric Nyamekye, during his State of the Church address, lamented how polluted rivers have adversely affected Christian baptism in mining communities.
Within a day or two, the CEO of the Free Zones Board issued a rather combative rebuttal: “If the church leader continues to behave like a politician, we will deal with him as a politician.”
The negative public uproar across the country compelled the Chief of Staff to quickly transform his 60th birthday into a tearful occasion, where he apologised profusely.
But the tears of a Chief of Staff would have been more patriotic if they were shed in response to the nation’s wider tragedy.
Consider this excerpt from a viral essay by Tony Asare:
“From Bekwai through Brofoyedru, Ofoase Ayirebi, to Oda to Nsawam and back to Accra, every single river was the colour of clay. Thick. Dying. Poisoned. Dead. Shame. This is not water. This is running mercury, cyanide, and the fluid corpse of a nation flowing into the sea.
Galamsey has won. Ghana has lost the fight.”
It is such a tragedy that should move a Chief of Staff to public tears—not a CEO’s imprudent rebuttal to wise counsel.
Please also consider a recent letter by the Paediatric Society of Ghana addressed to His Excellency the President, lamenting a nation’s assault on its children.
An excerpt reads:
“Prenatal exposure to mercury is associated with irreversible brain damage.
It increases the burden of chronic diseases, infections, and malnutrition in children.
Galamsey isn’t just an environmental problem; it is a slow assault on the Ghanaian child.”
Julius, this is what should draw tears from you and the staff you lead.
Your boss has indeed confessed that some of your staff are complicit in the assault on Ghana.
Julius, weep not for rude CEOs.
Cry for Mother Ghana:
“The fluid corpse of a nation flowing into the sea.”
