Presidential primaries and five primary school boys

Our Constitution is so kind it allows anybody to aspire to the position of President; and you are often not surprised if the man ahead of you in a trotro queue is actually on his way to file his nomination papers.

The bag in his armpit most likely contains a presidential manifesto.

The motivation to be President may be a wish to have ideas on nation-building translated into reality; but it may also be hallucination or a naked-eye prophecy meant to add perfume to your odorless CV: “In the Fourth Republic, by God’s grace, I was also a presidential candidate,” could be the script.

The above summarizes my instincts three decades ago while my right hand was assessing presidential candidates towards Election ’98.

Thirty years down the line, primaries remain primaries; and I can already see flagbearer hopefuls, along with cheerleaders, forming one dogodogo line for the big event on 31st January.

But primaries simply means going back to primary school, where playgrounds could be so messy kids may go home sobbing with runny noses.

One particular party deserves mention here—the party of elephants: a party that believes in democracy so much, democracy itself does not understand them.

In 1979, their ancestor party, the PFP, meticulously played to the democracy script and, at the eleventh hour, naively split into Victor Owusu’s PFP and Paa Willie’s UNC—a fatal error that allowed the Nkrumahist PNP to dribble them to power.

That was the Third Republic.

In 2007, wearing a beard and moustache, I also witnessed another presidential primary school where the party rolled out democracy as child’s play and saw all players—goalkeeper included—collectively running towards the ball in any direction it went.

Those days, primary school boys specialized in playing the soccer ball only in the “stomach direction,” and received thunderous applause for obedient stomachs.

That NPP presidential event harvested 17 contestants, attracting the nickname “Ali Baba and the 17…” This was understandable because of the favourite boastful cliché, “We have the men,” coupled with a generous party constitution that did not disqualify babbling infants and visionless adults.

Somehow, many big men in the party started feeling presidential overnight, particularly towards the end of Kufuor’s eight-year tenure, and prayed to God for a presidential miracle in Jesus’ mighty name!

With 17 rival candidates emerging from one party, huge post-harvest losses were easy to predict; for the constitution, thankfully, allowed only one winner, who could walk home smiling but surrounded by 16 angry factions.

Life at the bottom of the league that day was simply hilarious, and mathematicians were busy computing the fate of flattened candidates while suppressing chuckles.

Out of nearly 2,300 votes, one contestant had six; another obtained just one vote, presumably his own. Six other candidates got less than one percent of the votes, and one bold aspirant worked hard only to obtain zero percent.

With that zero percentage point, the loser invited zeros and houseflies to follow him all the days of his political life.

No wonder he has since remained a perpetual rebel within the party, quietly praying someone will beat his record and keep him company.

In that race with 17 schoolboys, Naana ooo Nana won internally but lost in 2008 to Egya Atta Mills, whose party was more united.

Here we are in 2026, having learnt lessons from Ghana’s party of elephants.

This time round, the candidates are only five primary school boys, which could have been reduced further if one aspirant had confessed ahead of time that he might need a silver collection to pay his registration fees.

Somehow, the party of elephants has more than two whole years to heal wounds after the primaries and walk to victory; but it also leaves them ample time to commit suicide or seek mercy killing, if they are so inclined.

Among contestants, many hope to attract the sympathy of the chosen flagbearer and be invited as arrogant running mates.

Yet others are preparing grounds for a “future tomorrow,” where they could attract the label “Yenim no firi tete”—we have known him from long ago.

But do not forget a few who, in their repeated attempts, hope to attract the merciful slogan “Yaw abre,” “Kwabena abre,” “Bryan abre,” “Ken abre,” or “Mahmoud abre.”

From the party’s recent experience, this could be costly, having once experimented chairmanship with “Ntim abre,” and eventually producing “Ntim ada.” Nation-building is not charity, where marks of fatigue or frustration are rewarded in the quest for leadership.

Recent peace talks have been bad news for the NPP: never seen a family meeting of stiff necks and cold shoulders! The usual smiles were gone, replaced with mutual indifference and occasional hostile outbursts among kinsmen. One candidate, Ken, even declined to sign an incomplete peace pact—a clear anticlimax ahead of an imminent D-Day.

Yet the period has been great for mobilization, and a welcome “cocoa season” for delegates, who would have happily welcomed 20 contestants or more.

Flagbearer hopefuls are doing a great job with generous T-and-T support for the economy, plus free political tourism to Abetifi up the Kwahu Mountains, free tiger nuts, and all. There is indeed no need to interfere with this, for “delegates abre.”

As for the primary school boys, they are all astute and qualified to lead. I have known Kwabena for years—a sharp, clear thinker.

Yaw is affable and a great educationist; Bryan, a wonderful grassroots executive with a large heart. Ken is committed, pro-grassroots, rebellious, and a fighter; he is clearly one of two frontrunners.

But one would like to see Ankra Ken turn more guns on Mahama’s policies than on his own peers, and also hear him clarify his position on education. Is education a problem? Is certification a liability?

Mahmoud: his humility has been classified as a virtue in leadership, but it can slide into cowardice.

A great economist—experienced, selfless, bold, and far-sighted; results-oriented. One would like to see him bare his teeth and snarl at wrongdoers.

Being a delegate myself, I will surely vote for a contestant with a passion to unite the party for victory. If it is your agenda to divide the party, please go and sin here no more!

Good luck, primary school boys and cheerleaders!

kyankah@ashesi.edu.gh