imageI saw his crimson-stained eyes; it was almost impossible not to. He had his gaze fixed on me. Mr. James Rockson, the finance minister, had moved from hero to villain in just six months. His rise to eminence was a perfect success story. He had always been a hardworking young man so when the President announced him as minister-elect, the nation embraced this with very little reservations. His vetting was a mere conversation; his integrity was simply unquestionable.
Aunty Aku, mother of James, had suddenly become the talk of Abenaso. She had been marginalised and ridiculed for years. She virtually sold everything she owned to pay for the education of young James. Single motherhood hadn’t been fair to her. Has it ever been to anyone? If only her husband, Robert, had known what was to come of young James, he probably would have stayed.
James Rockson was born under bizarre conditions. There was no time to rush Aunty Aku to the hospital; his father, Robert had vehemently denied any involvement with Aunty Aku. Robert’s father was very much respected. He had earned the respect of the townsfolk and the admiration of his Paramount Chief. More white-skinned people had visited Abenaso to admire the cocoa farm of Robert’s father than the town’s waterfalls had ever recorded. So it was no surprise that when Robert denied ever taking Aunty Aku into his hut, she became the punching bag to the fists of insults and condemnation thrown at her. Aunty Aku’s own parents, mere peasants, disowned her for conceiving a child when she hadn’t been given as wife to any man.
Young as she was then, Aunty Aku, moved to the outskirts of her little town in a bid to rebuild her life. Her fine craftsmanship, with dexterity, soon gave her some income to survive on. When James was born, only a trader from a nearby town was around to help in his delivery. The trader was a frequent buyer of the handwoven satins Aunty Aku made.
Aunty Aku breathed James, she spoke James, she drank James; he was her life. He was her all. So after the castigations to her subsided, she moved back into the main town much to the surprise of many people. Her reason for doing so was simple, James deserved the best of education and nothing was ever going to prevent her from giving her son the best. She enrolled him in the missionary basic school and worked assiduously to pay his fees. James excelled in all he did. Early in his life, James fought a bout of measles. The townspeople were convinced Aunty Aku was receiving punishment for her immorality. Miraculously, James recovered much to the surprise of everyone. Then it became evident that the young man was destined for greatness.
It was almost as though the harder Aunty Aku worked, the more James excelled. So when James sat for his BECE, it was no surprise to the school authorities that he recorded the highest number of ones in the school’s history and that subsequently, he gained admission to his dream secondary school.
The rest of the story is almost too good to be true. After initially struggling in his first year at secondary school, he adjusted and began to sweep awards like a broom will do to dirt on the floor. He was his own competition. His hard work and dedication saw him rise to popularity amongst his other secondary school colleagues. James was a success story in writing. By then, Aunty Aku had sold almost all her belongings. Did she care? James was worth dying for.
Mr. Rockson moved on to the university after secondary school and again he excelled. Aunty Aku’s investment began to yield returns as large companies and firms sponsored James’s education.
In his final year, James met a beautiful young lady called Nancy. After three years of friendship and courtship, they got married at a beautiful ceremony. Aunty Aku was elated; her joy was uncontrollable. She danced and danced all through the wedding ceremony. Could anyone begrudge her? Her young man had engraved a smile too deep on her face.
Mr. Rockson had the nation at heart. He usually stayed up all night reviewing policies and working assiduously to check inflation. His wife always teased that he had married two women: Ghana and her.
But here I stood in his presence, a mere servant of his with the day’s ‘Daily Graphic’ in my right hand and with my heart thumping as though to make rhythm and beat. The media hadn’t been friendly to him at all. For six months, he had been the subject of discussion. His trip to the World Economic Forum in Finland was to propel him to international recognition, we had all believed. I recall him singing and dancing with his wife as I packed his luggage and cleaned his bags; it was our big family moment.
On his return, he had been accused of embezzling state funds; a charge he pleaded not guilty to. The newspapers reported that he transferred a huge sum of money into another account to spend on his trip and that also, in procuring buses for his ministry, he had breached the Procurement Act. Mr. Rockson had maintained in court that he never transferred any monies to his personal account and had accused his deputy for the supposed transaction; and that bureaucracies associated with procuring things necessary for work were simply unnecessary. This angered a lot of journalists. They slandered him for appearing as proud and arrogant and also, for not being in control of his own ministry.
More often than not, we are quick to judge leaders forgetting they also have frailties. Mr. Rockson had never coped too well with pressure. While in secondary school, he retorted rather sharply at a teacher who incessantly quizzed him on a matter he deemed trivial. However, owing to his fine academic record, everyone cut him slack.
Today, his wife was pressing for a divorce. The allegations had gotten the better of him. His demeanour had changed and he had become somewhat of a stranger to his own wife. Quite recently, he came home drunk, something very uncharacteristic of him, and refused to answer any questions his wife posed. The media had captured him too well and the pictures went viral. The President soon asked him to resign. Aunty Aku, upon hearing the stories, fell seriously ill. To her, her centre, James, wasn’t holding. Things were falling apart!
My role model had suddenly turned villain. As I stood in his presence, his crimson-stained eyes induced tears in mine. He asked me in a rather disturbed voice, “Will you leave too?”
That may have seemed fictional but all over the world, the measure of judgement for leaders has been nothing short of strict. Indeed it must be so, for how sure are we that our leaders would serve us well without these rigorous checks. However, it is imperative that in effectively checking our leaders, we are careful not to destroy the hard earned reputation they may have built over the years. As individuals, we are quick to ask others to understand us when we err but have we ever given the benefit of the doubt to any leader who might have erred unintentionally in the execution of his duties? Flesh and blood, after all, are subject to error.
On July 24th 2012, President Atta Mills passed away. The entire nation eulogized him and several people, some of whom incessantly attacked him, put on black clothes to mourn his death. Interestingly, while he was alive, he was tainted and accused of being ‘weak’ and incompetent. Could it be that such a person had the nation so much at heart that he risked his life to try to set things right? Could it be that the darts of insults thrown at him caused him so much grief that may have weakened his mortal body? Could we, as a nation, have rallied better behind him?
In 1998, news of the extra marital affair between President Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski took centre stage. The President, then, was believed to have had sexual encounters with Monica, an employee at the White House on nine different occasions. Clinton after denying several times, admitted to having an ‘inappropriate affair’ with Miss Lewinski. Clinton later revealed in writing that his affair with Miss Lewinski revealed ‘the darkest part of his inner life’. Subsequently, he received punishment for his act. Could it be that the President had an inner struggle with sexual immorality that his office exposed? Behind the smiles captured on camera, could there have been a soul desperately searching for answers? A counter argument could have been that, well, as President, he could have gotten all the help he wanted but really, even as individuals, do we readily expose our weaknesses in the name of help? Let he that is without sin cast the first stone. After all, leadership doesn’t really change you: it’s a test of character.
In the nineteenth century, the great French, Napoleon Bonaparte rose to prominence during the French revolution. Even though, he failed woefully with the Russian Invasion in 1812, his contribution to the educational and agricultural sectors were invaluable. The “Code Napoleon” has formed the foundation of the constitutions of many nations. Interestingly, one of the least spoken truths about Napoleon was his terrible fear of cats. Ironically, such a great and daring warrior who could tear down the fiercest of rivals, feared mere cats! Can you imagine, a whole Napoleon, a military tycoon, at the battlefield mapping out strategies to annihilate a foe, suddenly spotting a cat nearby? Funny as it may seem, historians believed that whenever he spotted a cat, he would motion his soldiers to drive it away or he’d simply take another route. What if this cat leaped unto his right shoulder? It would have been the most embarrassing sight to behold!
Often times, we are quick to pass judgement on leaders but like the rest of us, they are humans too. They are even more susceptible to bouts of thoughtless behaviour and can fall prey to several vices that plague the human race emotionally, physically and spiritually. Think about it? Who prays for the disturbed pastor who per his position has to keep smiling to encourage others? Who treats the sick doctor who forces himself daily to work knowing that more lives are dependent on him? Who captures our leaders after all the media buzz fizzles away? Who writes on the untold?

Dennis Dela Tsagli