“THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD”

Legon campus is a miniature world – a higher and even more bizarre reflection of the outside world that when one is subject to scrutinizing and analyzing things on a microscopic note, or evaluating events based on a cogent philosophical reasoning, then one is bound to be a prophet of doom or within the academic walls a pessimist.

My nature is such that I would not describe it as radical, yet I have such a strong abhorrence for gradualist approach of doing things. I am always meticulous and conscious of the vile and vicious arguments that some students are apt to propound to taint a good opinion and subject it to ridicule. So in order not to earn the accolade of rush and impulsive campus adventurer who has read Karl Marx and obscure and obsolete revolutionary treatises which are not only irrelevant and impracticable, but time wasting, and also baring the stigma of an extremist – my good mind always tells me that when there is an issue which one way or the other affects the academic life of students, and all good students betray symptoms of cowardice and of silence, those who would rally behind me may eventually also betray me and the good course, and I will be the only person at the center of affairs.

Though I am a student my self, I have realized something about my colleagues which makes me cautious when there is an issue of such delicate nature. Because when students shout, ululate, protest, demonstrate and vandalize, they do so because their colleagues are doing it and they staunchly defend it as students’ way of life. As a student, one must involve himself in things that may have a good end for all students. Most of them are unaware of the ideological basis or the rationale behind a particular action-taking place – they participate for the fun of it. In most cases too, students’ exhibit extreme youthful exuberance and unguided revolutionary fervor in their bid to find solutions to problems. Because they mostly neglect the financial aspect of problem-solving measures, they want their desires to be granted in a magical way.

At certain times, it be comes conspicuous that certain measures the authorities initiates on campus which they officially and LEGONICALLY ingratiates in the psyche of students with their academic and rhetoric fallacy is not only designed to cripple students and push them to the wall, but to keep them in an inextricable dark hole and to warp the efforts of the more buoyant and energetic ones who would not pray to the prince of peace, the stiller of the storm but would hit the

street protesting vehemently for the solemn trees and the red roof tiles of the premier university to resound the injustices they are about to suffer.

Conscious of all these things, of the never-ending feud between authorities and students, my movement on campus is always informed by enough credible evidence; as my potent weapon and justice. When there is an impending vicious policy of a bizarre kind, which in its very outlook seems to be initiated by no one but a demented professor who is confused and at the point of losing his senses, then my instincts which circumstances stifled dormant would be awakened.

The first ritual I perform in such situations is to rush to Jones Quartey building – the famous TINGITINGI. There is a huge notice board in front of the giant building. There, I will avidly and impatiently go through the various notices pasted by students to see if I will get enough followers for my course.

It is a favorite saying of mine that revolution begins at TINGITINGI. Because when there is a policy in the air, hovering around the red roof tiles and the learning towers, one need not worry, even though dust bins, trees and other objects of campus would resound sentiments of incensed students, my favorite haunt is the little notice in front of Tingitingi.

One can at times visualize the anger and pain that informs such fiery response from students. They not only condemn and state categorically the uselessness of a giving policy by the authorities, but also try to call all students to stand up and voice out loud and clear for the learning towers to echo it to all and sundry. If we are at the premier university aiming for quality education to weed out some of the pressing problems of our society, why should we be engulfed by the same problems and we sit and watch helpless? Isn’t it ironical?

Some of the bills not only try to rally students to oppose an unfavorable policy, but also dare to transcend the ordinary boundary defined for students. They insinuate, generalize issues and reveal scandalous dealings of the top hierarchy, which is not only dangerous but has the potential of damaging people’s reputation.

When an issue of a miniature value rises to epic proportions, that is the time that you will see the brave ones and the chicken hearted. No one would like to face the raw brunt of the authorities, be a scapegoat and eventually be rusticated from the covetous institution, thereby terminating his educational career.

On campus, I am mostly described by friends and foes alike as a fiery young revolutionary and a radical avant-garde though I keep on reiterating that I loathe being describe as such I have to accept it now as I am sharp to withdraw from precincts of students who are only parading campus for miracles to happen in their lives but wouldn’t do anything to change the destiny of the premier university. I assess and evaluate all forms of arguments I receive from students, I sample out, detach youthful exuberance and relegate some to the doldrums as being the result of rush action engendered by immaturity.

Nevertheless, I admire some of the protest notice students paste around campus to jostle into action students who are lulled by the fact that they are at the university and that alone is enough for them. After all, it shows that they are the recipients of whatever they are fighting against.

So my position at the premier university as an agitator, revolutionary, non-conformist, polemicist and above worshiper of Bacchus, a vandal. Only remained in words. Because, as a student, without working collectively with other students who share my ideals and vision, I would not make any headway.

Nevertheless ALUTA CONTINUA! Though our voices may be silenced and our efforts warped, we still believe that the pen is mightier than the sword and with our fiery little pieces of radical content, some change can be effected.

So my journey every afternoon to the little notice board in front of the giant TINGITINGI never stopped because I became convinced that one day the authorities would look to such things to revise the obnoxious policies they arbitrarily implement on campus!