By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr., Ph.D.
Garden City, New York
August 21, 2015
E-mail: okoampaahoofe@optimum.net
The fatal accident occurred more than twenty-four hours ago, as of this writing. But the details are still sketchy. Even the obituary of the young reporter who was the only one among some ten, or so, media operatives who lost his life is not detailed enough. Except for his name and the government-owned newspaper for which he worked, not much is known about him. For instance, where was the late Mr. Samuel Nuamah born and schooled? Where did he train as a journalist? How long had he been employed with the Ghanaian Times at the time of his death? What other media organizations had the deceased worked for? Did he leave behind any spouse and children? How old was he? (It was only two days later, on August 23, while preparing these notes for publication, that I learned that Mr. Nuamah was 37 years old).
I mean, the preceding are the basic details of a standard obituary (obit) of the sort that I routinely discuss with my English 215 (Principles of Journalism) class, a course that I have been teaching for nearly 20 years now at my community college. You see, as a journalist, you want to give life to every one of your pieces; even those about people who have transitioned or are no longer with us. To be certain, obituaries demand even more careful attention to details, sensitivity on the part of the writer, and what is commonly called the "Human-Interest Angle." You want any thoughtful reader to come away from your obituary piece heavy-heartedly with a sigh of cathartic relief of the sort punctuated by the following remark which is directed at no one in particular, that runs epiphanically and tersely thus: "Good gracious, this could have been me!"
Reading the news reportage of Mr. Nuamah's death, what came across to the thoughtful and sensitive reader was sheer disappointment and annoyance. It was almost as if all the average Ghanaian journalist was taught was how to write passably without any flair for register or the cultural milieu and audience for whatever kind or category of journalism the writer was in pursuit of. Even the average police report of such accidents as snuffed out the life of Mr. Nuamah has fizz. Instead of the felicitous expression of "Pathos," what we have here is "Bathos."
Anyway, what drew my attention to the piece captioned "Presz[sic] Press Corps Had Two Close Shaves Before Accident" (MyJoyOnline.com / Ghanaweb.com 8/22/15), other than the poignant picture of the deceased, underneath which was captioned "Ghanaian Times Reporter, Samuel Nuamah[,] Died," was the caption itself. As I have already noted, the story itself was jejunely pedestrian. It also appears that whoever was in-charge of the bus carrying the presidential press detail had not inspected the tires / tyres of the vehicle whose make, or model, was not given to ensure that they were in the proper condition to travel the distance and speed that presidential convoys are known to often travel. One of the seven, or so, injured reporters on admission at the 37th Military Hospital was reported to have said that the driver of the press bus/van was travelling at a speed well beyond what media operatives like the patient was used to.
Now, I don't know what the highway speed limit is in Ghana, so I cannot readily or confidently remark about the same. I can only reasonably assume that the driver of the vehicle was, perhaps, travelling upwards of 90 MPH, or at the sort of speed that a Connecticut Highway Patrol Officer is apt to issue a driver a court summons worth at least $300 (Three-Hundred Dollars). Once a Connecticut patrolman issued me a ticket for $237 (Two-Hundred-And-Thirty-Seven Dollars) for supposedly driving at 80 MPH in a 50 MPH zone. I could have sworn my mother's light-blue-colored casket that the white police officer was lying through his dentures. I mean, I was travelling in a pack of some ten or more cars when that SOB pulled me over and began to pontifically lecture me as if I had just dropped down to Earth from outerspace. Since then, I have learned to drive in the middle of any number of lanes in which I find myself at the "Group-Rhythms Speed."
In New York State, the highway speed limit varies anywhere between 55 MPH and 65 MPH. This means that a driver cannot drive more than 65 MPH in a 55 MPH zone, and 75 MPH in a 65 MPH zone without the risk of being ticketed for speeding. But, of course, if you are categorized as a global African or non-white person, even as my old friend and former New York Amsterdam News colleague Kenneth Meeks observes in his book titled Driving While Black, which makes for quite fantastic reading, blackness is almost always wrong at the steering wheel on the highway. And I firmly believe the $237 Connecticut speeding ticket got issued yours truly because he was "foolishly Driving While Black." You know that saying... "The Black-sheep of the family"? I think that was what I became that late afternoon when that Connecticut yankee patrol officer pulled me over.
Anyway, we are also told that the driver of President Mahama's press-detail bus was "inexperienced" and reckless at the same time. Now, I don't know what these media passengers think about the value of their own lives to themselves. But I am quite certain that if I had ridden as a passenger on that bus on that fateful day, I definitely would have asked this young and "inexperienced" and reckless driver to slow down to a reasonable speed or drop me right there and then, in the middle of nowhere, as New Yorkers are wont to say. I once said the same thing to an old African-American girlfriend some twenty years ago and got Stephanie very upset. She was trying to read the newspaper and drive at the same time on the highway in Terre Haute, Indiana. I asked her to stop testing death with my life, for I needed to return to the Motherland in one piece. She dropped me like hot potatoes, but I walked away intact.
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