In the Republic of Uncommon Sense, we have mastered many arts — talking without listening, mining without thinking, and branding without evidence. The latest victim of this national pastime is Dr. Kenneth Ashigbey, convener of the Media Coalition Against Galamsey, a man who has spent the better part of a decade fighting for the rivers that no longer run and the forests that no longer breathe.
For his troubles, he’s been baptized — not in the polluted waters of the Pra or Ankobra, but in the acidic stream of political labeling. His new title? “NPP operative.”
It’s a cruel joke worthy of a Kumawood plot twist: the man who once sparred with NPP officials over the government’s sluggish galamsey fight is now accused of being their secret disciple. If irony could mine gold, Ghana would be Dubai with potholes.
Let’s set the record straight. When Ken Ashigbey speaks, he doesn’t recite party manifestos — he reads the obituary of our environment. He was there when the rivers turned to brown soup. He was there when journalists were beaten for filming the truth. He was there when excavators vanished into thin air like politicians’ promises. And every time, he raised his voice, not his party flag.
So where did this “NPP tag” nonsense come from? From the hallowed chambers of political insecurity, of course — that temple where every criticism must wear a party colour before being heard. It started when Stan Dogbe, now the Deputy Chief of Staff at the Jubilee House, accused Ashigbey of fighting a “coloured fight.” Translation: you’re only angry because your team isn’t in power.
But Ashigbey’s reply was classic Ghanaian gospel — polite but piercing: “I pray God forgives you.” You could almost hear the moral slap echo from Accra to Atewa.
What Dogbe and his chorus conveniently forget is that when the NDC came to power, he named names — Joseph Yamin, Yakubu Abanga, and a host of alleged political miners who treated the soil like family property. When the NPP held the reins, he blasted them for hypocrisy, weak enforcement, and the mysterious disappearance of impounded excavators. He even got arrested — three times — during the NPP era for refusing to shut up. If this is what being an “NPP operative” looks like, then perhaps the party needs more operatives like him.
Ashigbey’s record is simple: he has never traded truth for applause. While politicians were busy forming committees to express concern about why rivers were dying, he was forming coalitions to demand action. While others were calculating electoral gains, he was calculating the turbidity levels of poisoned water.
His latest sermons have grown more urgent. He warns that the “window to defeat galamsey is closing fast.” He calls for declaring states of emergency in mining zones. He criticizes judges who order the release of seized excavators, calling such decisions “a betrayal of the national conscience.” For this, some say he’s too loud. But silence, as Ashigbey knows, is how nations die slowly — drowned first in mud, then in excuses.
In a saner republic, a man like Ken Ashigbey would be decorated, not defamed. He’d be given national airtime, not side-eyes. But this is Ghana, where truth is a stubborn weed — it grows best where it’s least wanted. Here, speaking sense automatically qualifies you for political suspicion. Criticize the NDC, and you’re NPP. Criticize the NPP, and you’re NDC. Criticize both, and they’ll call you mad.
The tragedy is not that Ashigbey has been labeled — it’s that the label is meant to distract from the rot he’s exposing. Galamsey is not a partisan sin; it’s a national suicide note written in mercury and signed by greed. Every day we delay action, we’re one rainfall closer to drinking poison with our porridge.
But Ashigbey soldiers on. Like a prophet preaching to a stubborn congregation, he keeps calling out to a nation losing its moral compass. “This fight is not about parties,” he reminds us. “It’s about survival.” And survival, in the Republic of Uncommon Sense, has become the most radical ideology of all.
So brand him whatever you like — NPP, NDC, NGO, or UFO. Ken Ashigbey remains what few dare to be in this republic: consistent. The rivers know his name. The forests whisper his prayers. And long after politicians have traded seats and excuses, his voice will echo through the valleys of Atewa and the corridors of conscience — reminding us that silence, not criticism, is the real betrayal.
Because in a nation where truth now needs a party clearance, men like Ken Ashigbey are not nuisances — they’re national treasures covered in mud.
Jimmy Aglah
Republicofuncommonsense.com
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