That Time I fell Out of Love With The Black Stars

Oh how I used to love this era of the Black Stars! To me, they were a bright spot in the generally dark and dreary world that Ghanaians are expert in manoeuvring through… a beacon of hope and love which caused us to (pretend to) cast aside our political, religious, and other differences and unite in support of our nation. They were my darlings, my honey booboos, my “island of reality in an ocean of diarrhoea”… my Blackity Black Stars.

As for most politicians, everyone knows they don’t care about us, and the only symbolism that Ghana evokes in them is a cash cow… so they milk-milk-milk-milk with all their strength, leaving her nipples perpetually raw and sore.
but not my Black Stars, I truly thought they saw the light that out forebears saw…

That light that shone bright in Ɔsagyefo’s eyes. That light that moved through Theodosia as she crafted the first breathtakingly beautiful red-gold-green-black star Ghana flag. That nova in all of us (except those politicians and the people that feed from them ugh), flickering constantly… occasionally burning bright only to be dimmed again by the latest governement nonsense that Citi fm reveals to us.

For me they remained a bastion of patriotism, a group of gallant gentlemen who set off to win or lose, raise the flag of Ghana high. Everything else could be going horribly but the Black Stars would put on the mantles of our national heroes and live(!) for Ghana. That was what the Black Stars was to me.

 

And then Brazil dollars-on-a-plane happened.

It was the second time I used the phrase “animguase akwaaba” with meaning. I was so ashamed. When international friends brought it up as a joke, I laughed too and joked but herh the way it was paining me inside my heart?! I began to look at all of them with new eyes,  like “Ooooh, so this is just a job to you eh?”

It’s not like I expected them to work for free – I mean we all have to eat oh – but their actions reminded me too much of the bloodsuckers we already have plundering our national coffers. Their apɛsɛmenkomenya was smelling so bad. Not just the players, the GFA and everything associated with the Black Stars started smelling so bad. 

The fact that after chopping our dollars, they went on to whimper out of the competition – they even lost to common USA! Ahba! 

And now as I write, bile fills my throat and the fires of rage burn in my eyes as my inner voices sing an angry chorus which swells to a crescendo… just kidding, lol, lol
Anyhow charley, if all this was just a job they were doing for money, then why the heck did I get so emotionally invested in this? It’s like that time I realised I was sadder about the state of Manchester United than I had ever been about the state of all my romantic relationships…

<moment of clarity. Kuukuwa out>
When I’m doing my job, do I expect people to go through terrible traffic jams, stay in long long queues to buy tickets and access my place of work and then watch me work and cheer for me?

No.

Do I expect my mundane daily activities to be broadcast live so people rush all over the place to find the nearest TV and watch me work for the paycheck?

No.
So why oh why should I also stress myself just to watch these just work for their cash.

When they’re busily drawing, losing or playing some lackadaisical ball bi like that too oh?!
No, daabi, aawo. I would rather try to join the Virgin Male Pastors Club, Bawjiase chapter. And besides, I still have Shatta Wale #SM4Lyf