Times are truly difficult and it’s not funny

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By Reindolf Amankwa

I am a professionally trained graduate teacher employed and teaching in a Senior High School. When paid at the end of the month by the Government of Ghana (GoG) through Controller and Accountants General Department (CAGD), my salary for teaching the future leaders of this country for say 20 working days (4 weeks a month) can buy only 2 gallons of cooking oil assuming the current price of the oil pegged at Ghc1,000 remains unchanged all things being equal.

Like others with a child and baby mama to cater for, the economic crisis we find ourselves in is beating me left, right, centre, back and front. It is not easy at all. Yet, day in day out, I receive marriage, funeral, naming ceremony and graduation ceremony invitations from family members, friends and many other loved ones. I am expected to attend or at least “show love” beyond mouth talk. Though financially pressed, how do I explain that I’m in very difficult times and that I need help more than Ghana needs help from the IMF?

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More emotionally devastating is that, I dare not complain about economic hardship to the very people who see me as a “party boy” of the ruling government and equally know that I’ve always been on radio stations and some TV stations defending the Akufo-Addo led NPP Government in my capacity as not just a mere party boy but a Communicator for the party. Is it a case of going to defend the party and government yet hungry and with empty pockets? It is not easy.

It is not funny anymore. We can keep pretending but truth is one; times are really really hard. Even though my salary at the end of the month is nothing to be joyful about, I’m probably better than other Youth who have no hopes of receiving anything from anywhere as salary or stipends. How do they survive? There’s nothing rosy, just an attitude of not talking about the struggles but focusing on the target set before us. Times are hard for me more than I’ve ever known in all my little years. For those without any paying job, I ask again, how do you survive?

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Some Ghanaians on the Street of Koforidua in an early morning.

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