The scorching afternoon sun beat down on the rooftops of Asanteman, but inside the Nyarko household, young Eric sat cross-legged on the cool cement floor, flipping through the pages of a thick book. His tiny fingers traced the lines of text as his eyes absorbed every word. His father, Mr. Nyarko, sat on a wooden stool nearby, watching his son with quiet amusement.
"Ei, Eric, you won't go and play outside? Your friends are shouting your name," Mr. Nyarko said, glancing towards the window where the muffled sounds of children laughing and running filled the air.
Eric shook his head. "No, Papa. I want to understand how a country works. Look, this book says every great nation was built by people who had a plan. Ghana too needs a plan."
Mr. Nyarko chuckled and took a sip from his calabash of palm wine. "Ah, and so you've made yourself the one to plan for Ghana?"
"Yes, Papa," Eric said firmly, his face lighting up with excitement. "We can't keep waiting for someone else. If the people leading us don't have a plan, then we the children must have one. Look at Singapore, Papa. Look at South Korea! They were like us, but now see where they have reached. Ghana too can reach there."
Mr. Nyarko sighed deeply. He had spent years teaching in the village school, watching generations of children grow up with dreams that slowly faded under the weight of reality. Yet, here was his own son, only five years old, talking about fixing a whole country. He wanted to tell the boy to slow down, to enjoy childhood, but something in Eric's eyes told him that this was no ordinary child's fantasy.
"Alright," he said, putting down his calabash. "Since you want to plan for Ghana, tell me, where do we start?"
Eric's face lit up. "Education, Papa!" He stood up and started pacing around the room, his small feet making soft tapping sounds on the cement floor. "Our schools are not serious. Some of my classmates don't even come because they don't see the importance of school. And some teachers, too, they come late or don't come at all."
Mr. Nyarko rubbed his chin. "Hmm, that one is true. But how do you fix it?"
Eric thought for a moment. "First, we need to make school interesting. We should teach things that will help people in real life. Not just English and Maths, but also how to start a business, how to farm properly, how to use computers."
His father nodded. "Ei, that sounds good o. But do you know how much it will cost?"
Eric grinned. "Papa, you have taught me that anything worth doing will cost something. But if we do it well, the country will make more money in the future."
Mr. Nyarko let out a deep laugh. "Ei, Eric! Are you sure you're just five years old? The way you talk, it's like you have seen the future already."
Just then, the door creaked open, and Mama stepped in, wiping her hands on her cloth. "What are you two talking about like two old men having a meeting?"
"Your son says he wants to plan for Ghana," Mr. Nyarko said with a smile.
Mama scoffed. "This boy? Ah, Eric, you can't even finish your kenkey properly, and you want to plan a whole country?"
Eric chuckled. "Mama, it's not about eating kenkey. It's about having a vision!"
Mama rolled her eyes and sat down. "Hmm, vision? You better make sure your vision includes washing the plates after eating."
The family laughed, but Eric remained serious. He knew they didn't fully understand him yet, but he didn't mind. He had already made up his mind—he would find a way to make Ghana better, one step at a time.
A Challenge in the Classroom
The next day at school, Eric sat in class listening to his teacher, Madam Afia, struggling to explain a simple maths problem. The other students were restless, some whispering, others staring blankly at the chalkboard. Eric raised his hand.
"Yes, Eric?" Madam Afia sighed, already expecting another of his deep questions.
"Madam, may I try explaining it in a different way?"
The class erupted in murmurs. Madam Afia hesitated but finally nodded. "Okay, come and try."
Eric walked confidently to the front and picked up a piece of chalk. "Look," he began, "think of this number like the money you have when you go to the market. If you remove some, you are spending. If you add some, you are saving. So, this is just about understanding how much you are left with."
Suddenly, the students perked up. The idea made sense to them. One by one, they started nodding and answering the question correctly. Even Madam Afia looked impressed.
"Ei, Eric, you should come and take my job o," she said jokingly.
Eric shook his head. "No, Madam, but I want all of us to understand things better. If we make learning practical, we will all do well."
That evening, when Eric got home, he told his parents what had happened. "I think we need to change how we teach in Ghana, Papa," he said excitedly. "We need to make learning useful for everyone."
Mama, who had been peeling cassava, stopped and looked at him. "You really believe you can change all this?"
"Yes, Mama," Eric said without hesitation. "I believe Ghana can be great, but it will start with us learning properly."
Mr. Nyarko patted his son on the shoulder. "Then don't stop dreaming, my son. But know that big dreams need big work."
"I am ready, Papa," Eric said. "One day, everyone will see that Ghana can be great."
Mama shook her head and smiled. "Hmm, this boy. May God guide you."
As the evening breeze swept through the house, Eric sat quietly, staring at the stars through the window. In his heart, he knew—this was just the beginning