Loyal readers of the 'Diary' would know that we buried Paddy Animpong, my brother, friend and mentor at the Awudome Cemetery last Saturday. You are probably imagining a very solemn send-off at a cemetery bedecked with daffodils, bougainvil¬leas and sunflower. In your mind's eye you see Paddy's beloved in a silent final tribute as the Reverend gentleman says the final comforting words. Wake up from your revelry, Awudome doesn't do solemn. If there is a noisier, more disorganised place this side of Makola Market I am yet to see it. Awudome is an insult to the effort of family and friends to give their dear departed a fitting send-off and an assault on the final dignity of the dead. In short, it is a disgrace. We did our best to honour the memory of our dear Paddy. Everyone had a fond story or two about Paddy and his idiosyncratic ways between sobs as he lay in state. An inspiring sermon by our old friend Rev. Dei Awuku lifted our hearts and challenged us to stay on the narrow path that leads to eternal life. All too soon, the mortal remains were put into the coffin and sealed, which was the last time the physical body of Paddy would be seen. He was put into the "ambulance" and our convoy made its way towards Awudome. Even Accra's bullet-headed tro-tro drivers gave way to an unknown departed as a sign of respect at the Obetsebi Lamptey Circle. (Apparently, all is not lost.) We made our way swiftly through the traffic on the Ringway West. Then we hit Awudome Cemetery. It is mayhem out there. The first thing you notice is a big representation from the ranks of Ghana's macho men, that group of young men who have placed their muscles at the service of anyone desiring a bit of violence. You encounter them at lorry parks and on guard duty around new estates. I did not expect to find them at a cemetery where the inhabitants have no use for muscular men. But they were at Awudome and very busy being busy. That is the secret of their success at whatever it is they do, be it at lorry parks or football stadiums. They create panic and instability with their sheer presence and appear to be very busy with helping people park their cars or providing security. Their presence and the nuisance it creates destroy any sense of dignity or solemnity at the gates of the cemetery. Last Saturday, four of them were competing to help me to park my car, something I am capable of doing even in the dark. The result was pure chaos as each one shouted instructions to me about where to turn. Meanwhile, other macho men were shouting similarly conflicting instructions to other drivers, thereby increasing the sense of being in a very rowdy market. That was just the outside. Once past the gate you chance upon even more severe disruption. Any pretence that Awudome is anything but a disfigured piece of earth has been long abandoned. The idea of lining the graves in rows and creating spaces between them is merely historic. Now, it is a case of anywhere goes. Sure, the authorities pretend to give you a site for your beloved but that is just so they can get money from you. In reality, it is treated like Accra lands: it can be sold many times over. The things you notice most are the broken graves. They are strewn over the place as if after a mini earthquake. Some of them have been upturned by huge tree roots that have grown under the flimsy concrete slabs but most of the damage is the result of human beings deliberately smashing the graves for one reason or another. Apparently because of the pressure on the land, the spaces between graves have also been allocated but as they are small sizes diggers have to destroy existing graves to create new ones. The trouble is that in the same way as people who dig up roads to put in water pipes never repair the roads properly so these diggers leave the broken concrete slabs just where they fall. However, there is an even more sinister intervention at play. According to the macho men, the cemetery is invaded every night by grave robbers who steal jewellery and other fineries that are used to bury the dead as well as human body parts. I wondered what on earth anyone would do with human parts, but my macho man informer laughed at my naivety. Apparently there is a great demand by people who need them for juju and such. And so, as you can see, we didn't leave the macho men behind at the gate; they are inside the cemetery too, still wielding their considerable influence through the weight of numbers and bulk of muscles. They are standing around various graves or moving from one to another doing nothing in particular. They say they are the unofficial guards and guardians of the cemetery without whom mass desecration would result. They tell harrowing stories of having to chase people who arrive immediately after the burial of wealthy people; they showed us the broken grave of the mother of a wealthy woman who arrived only the day before from the US to bury her. It was targeted the same night after the burial. The macho man said he had not been able to report to the woman, who it appears is his client. Because of the threat of grave robbers, all coffins are routinely destroyed by hitting them with big stones and some of the same concrete slabs lying conveniently about the place. Not only that; the wreaths that should adorn the graves after the coffins are covered are also thrown in with the coffins and hammered with the stones too. Apparently, bad people used to steal them after the mourners went back home. This is pretty macabre stuff but we are in Ghana 2008. All this could change if the Accra Metropolitan Assembly would live up to its responsibilities. In some parts of the world, cemeteries are designed and kept for the dignity and memory of the dear departed. People go there at appropriate occasions to pay their respects, or in some cases students actually go there to study because of the beauty and serenity of such places. Here, they are kept frightful and undignified. It is ironic because we are the people that spend so much on funerals. We go to great lengths to provide the dead with fine things and provide music, drinks, food and many other good things on account of the departed one. Then we just go and abandon them in a wilderness, and as coolly come back and continue the merriment. Only in Ghana. Source: Kwasi Gyan-Apenteng Email: gapenteng@hotmail.com