Addis Ababa to Accra: The mosque 'standard' for Int'l airports

Earlier this year, a prominent WhatsApp message strongly entreated Muslims to use a prayer room at the Kotoka International Airport, KIA, in Accra.

 A part of the message alleged that a lack of use could see it closed by authorities - which point I doubted unless the authorities didn't know why they alloted it a space in the first place.

 All airports the world over have standards which makes the control tower as important a requirement as a washroom - urinal and toilet. Even before getting to see the KIA mosque, I was lucky to pray and supplicate in the one at the Bole International Airport at Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

 It was holiday season and I was heading back home to Ghana. I was at the Addis Ababa airport after a layover to connect to Accra, I had no need to pray because I dispatched the dawn prayer at a hotel and was due in Accra at midday for the next prayer.

 But I needed to use a washroom and that led me to the mosque at the airport. The search for the nearest washroom revealed two other rooms - the prayer and smoking rooms.

 The prayer room, subject of this piece, was positioned at the furthest end of the main terminal and had up-to-date support facilities - customized washroom - male and female - and a 'fashionable' ablution area.

 A well segregated space for both gender, with a capacity of 20 odd people, fitted with woolen carpets and copies of the Quran and a clear indication of Qiblah - the mandatory direction to face during prayers.

 Despite a clear instruction to not sleep in the place, it seems sleeping / lying down is the next most pronounced task undertaken in the facility. I'm told that as dozens troop in to offer prayers at different times of the day, you are like at every point to find someone 'relaxing' after prayers.

 In the wake of the WhatsApp message above, a brother also recounted how an airport in the United States had a multi-faith worship room. A trend I saw as emphasizing the new standard of inclusion or tolerance of different faiths if you want.

 I have had reason to pray on the premises of two airports aside Bole and KIA, my first was at the Felix Houphuet Boigny airport in Abidjan and then the Maya Maya airport in Brazzaville.

 For a Muslim who has been taught that the whole earth is a prayer place, I have prayed on land and in the air - aboard Ethiopian. Muslim air travelers are enjoying significant recognition despite the rising spate of Islamophobia.

It's a matter of time before airports add mosques / prayer places to the likes of control tower, washrooms, check-in counters and immigration booths.

 With Addis mosque under my belt, I'm lacing my boots to walk into the KIA terminal mosque. I couldn't access it on arrival because it is only accessible to departing passengers. Fingers crossed as always. 

21 Safar 1441 = 20 October, 2019

[Review] Animal Farm: George Orwell's classic via lenses of a journalist covering Africa

Animal Farm, as I'd known it since way back, boasts multiple quotes but one that comes up strong is "All animals are equal, but some animals are equal than others."

 "Way back" from above refers to the days my late dad subscribed to the British Council library in Accra. He borrowed books that myself and my siblings read in turns, Animal Farm was one such books. I read it back then for what it was and who I was.

It was just another novel by a famed author, George Orwell, and I was but a young reader in junior high school. I could still remember Napoleon and Snowball.

Rereading it decades after my first encounter kicked in with heavy perspective. I was to read it as a journalist who was extensively covering news across Africa and the world. Animal Farm is heavy on politics, politicians and "politricks."

Politricks being the deceptive mode in which African politicians are widely perceived to act across electoral cycles. Orwell's evergreen classic espouses group effort and loyalty, love for association and diplomacy. 

While at it, it exposes blind loyalty, excessive love for power, political trickery, propaganda and parochial use of communal resources. George Orwell came up strongly at a point in my journey as a digital journalist.

My supervisor advised that we read Orwell's book "1984." According to him, it had insights into digital journalism. Even though I have yet to read it, Animal Farm, came in handy and more so for me.

My Ugandan colleague, Daniel Mumbere, returned from holidays and handed me a copy of the book. I leapt with joy. It was the second book Daniel had given me, the first was a historical and cultural account of Dahomey - present day Benin.

I began reading it days to my departure on holidays and did so through my flight and transit via Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

I could at almost every point draw parallels from incidents in the book with an African leader or government. From whenever a scheme was being planned through to execution and even review stage. 

First off, I'd attempt to translate the seven commandments of Animal Farm vis-a-vis present day African politics. Africa in this context denoting a monolithic bloc of brothers related by the western, wobbly governance proposition called "democracy." 

THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS - Orwellian Edition

1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.

 THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS - Present day African edition

1. Whoever dares to oppose "rulers" is an enemy.
2. Whoever goes along with "ruler," bootlicks; is a friend.
3. No politician shall wear out his constituents.
4. No politician shall live above his means.
5. No politician shall "drink" more power than necessary.
6. No politician shall trick any other politician.
7. All politicians are equal.

From west through to central, east and southern Africa, politicians past and present have celebrated the "liberation" of their people and often times turned around full circle to unleash "strangulation."

Many remain embedded in the bracket of Africa's torrid past with democratic experimentation while about a half-dozen continue to hold on to power with decades rule under their belt.

Such are the leaders that are "Napoleons" - those that concentrate as much power as they can - and with that kick out "Snowballs" - real and or perceived enemies - in their camps and then soldier on to edit - wholly or partially - agreed upon regulations for their parochial interests.

The constitutions and other laws describe them as public servants but the verdict out there is that most of them serve their customized public and more of themselves.

To put it bluntly, they are in public service but doing public disservice. Orwell stages a present-day scenario of global politics. He clearly was ahead of his time and saw the realities that politics - local and global has become.

The depths of parochialism, cynicism and diabolism that have become symbolic of politics. While at it, I'm the first to admit that there are fine politicians who are very unscientifically "a drop in the chaotic ocean of political enterprise."

Africa to put it bluntly is a big Animal Farm where the people are lured and or forced to accept political leadership contracted by "majority vote" as was the case on Manor Farms turned Animal Farm.

The animal vs. humans battles that were won by the later also makes for interesting reading as was the interactions between the two species where the animals held more power as employers, business partners of humans.

By all means - read. I'm on to the next and with that, do expect a review in due course.

October 13, 2019 = Safar 14, 1441

Religious profiling: My arrest and 'unrest' in Congolese immigration cells

Three and half years living and working in the Republic of Congo, specifically in the cute port city of Pointe Noire; I knew my way very much around. I knew like the back of my palm, the way to my office (La Ville), to the market and mosque (Grande Marche) and a number of neighbourhoods.

 My neighbourhood is La Base Aeroport – yeah, not exactly upscale but minutes from the Aghostino Neto International Airport. For all those forty-two months and counting, I’d blended in well enough to call myself a Congolese – I still remain Ghanaian of course. I’d been forced to visit the Ghana Consulate in the capital Brazzaville because I wound up with an expired passport – story for another day.

 On this fateful day, I had left my home – No. 91 Avenue Ngouanouni, and headed to the local market OCH (try mention that in French Oo Ce Ash) to buy eggs and rice. Four men accosted me, one flashed a police card and asked for my papers.

 The whole demand sounded as jolting and it was revolting. But in about 15 minutes later, I resigned to the reality that I had been arrested by immigration on suspicion of being an illegal migrant.

 Here is the point about religious profiling: Was it a coincidence that the dozen or so detainees I shared the cell with were West Africans and Muslims? Maybe, maybe not. On the day I was spotting this long robe and pulling on the tasbih – Islamic rosary.

 Me to the officers: “I am a registered foreigner, I have my resident card but it’s at home. Let’s go to my place – barely five minutes’ drive, I’d pay for the transport if need be.” One assures me, they’d let me do that after the operation. I’m bundled into a taxi with central lock and all glasses rolled up.

It actually felt like a kidnap. An angry me keeps taking potshots at the taxi driver and officials as and when. They didn’t accept to take me to my place, rather myself and four others are taken to an immigration holding center about 10 minutes from my place of arrest.

There we join about seven others – Senegalese, Guinean, Ivorians and Malian. Upon arrest, I sent an email to Human Resource manager and my editor-in-chief. Alleging I’d been kidnapped by immigration.

So whiles most of the guys made multiple phone calls for rescue, I sat in the crammed cell whatsapping and waiting for the HR manager who was on his way.

I sensed that none of the guys there had valid documents. I enjoyed hearing their stories and threats to ensure Congolese in their respective countries are harassed same.

I was angry because I had the documents they needed but they were being unnecessarily difficult. So HR manager and a colleague arrive. He presents photocopy of all my past and present resident cards.

The officer says he’d accept only an original. My manager opts to stay so I go get the card, he says I committed an ‘individual offence’ and he was not going to hold another person for it, so I must remain in custody.

Eventually, I had to give my keys to my colleague to go fetch the card from my home. Then she returns. At the time about seven detainees had been bailed by negotiating their exit or having others come in to settle the officials – every release was accompanied by payment of cash.

 I proudly flash my card and get hit by the other demand. That I was not out of the woods yet, I had committed an offense of not carrying the card in the first place – the fine was 12,000 XAF. I’d vowed not to pay a dime.

 I’d resigned to staying with them for as long as they wanted to have me. I actually had 30,000 XAF on me but I’d rather our bureau chief comes with lawyers to speak sense into the officials. I’d told him earlier that the case was basic and needed only that I produce my card.

 So my colleague went on and on with the official who it turned out was getting tired of our ‘do as you please’ stance. I was left with four other guys in the cell. With my card and storybook, I went right back to sit in the cell - it was getting dark and I was loving the madness at this stage.

Out of nowhere, my colleague comes and says, all is clear and I am free. She assures me she did not pay a dime but that showing her press card to the official seemed to have made the trick. It all sounded crazy to me.

Last I'd heard someone talk of immigration was Africans arrested in Libya and Spanish Cueta on a deadly voyage to Europe. Before then, my uncle who lived in Italy for decades told us of the importance of carrying one's papers on the streets.

He stressed how not doing so meant deportation within hours- this was in the 90s. But for crying out loud, I'm an African in another African country. Yeah right, I now remember having to pay $100 and 150 cedis to get a Congolese visa from Togo.

And about how Congolese immigration could bar you from leaving the country if your visa had expired. Times when you love and loathe this place called Africa. Now I carry my resident card like cash. I go everywhere with it, even 100m from home, when I need baguette. This is my new reality.

Safar 10, 1441 = October 9, 2019 (Wednesday)
Days to returning ahead of Year 4 in Congo Republic.