The world according to me

I met Marcus on Friday. I had been out on an assignment with Effah and after the whole thing was over he stepped up to us and asked if we could take him along to Dansoman, an area in the west of Accra. He is the one on the picture. His kids led him along. He is blind, but wasn't born like this. I told him he could join us, but we would only go to Kwame Nkrumah Circle, a huge traffic hub close to the Ghanaian Times office. He beamed and called for his twin like boys. The taxis ride from the Ghana Society for the Blind to Circle is short, but this was one of the few times that I was glad to be stuck in traffic. Sometimes blind people led by kids approach you in the streets and ask for some money.
There is virtually no social security system in the country, so once you are disabled in any way, you are left to fight for your own. They are trying to build up some sort of social security for people working in the big companies. But with less than ten per cent of all workers in the private sector being employed formally, just a lucky few enjoy these new services.
When Marcus approached me, I was about to reach for some money, but he just wanted to save some money for transportation and chat a bit with the white guy. He was working as a fire fighter in the Accra fire patrol. After some six years of service his vision faded. Doctors said it was glaucoma. An incurable eye disease that inevitably leads to blindness, Marcus told me. It took him six years to get used to being blind. He had to learn it all anew. How to walk, to find his way, to make a living. In a way, he was lucky. Working for a public service he was transferred to the office and is now responsible for light duties, office work.
Still, it is virtually impossible to imagine what it means to become blind in a bee hive like Accra. There is no public transportation, no facilities for the virtually impaired whatsoever. If you cross the street you have to make it through a chaos of cars and buses all driving along without any care for pedestrians. All the streets are lined with open gutters and sewers filled with the drains of the city. One wrong step and you are soaked in filthy stinking water.
I was listening to Marcus’ words and jokes while we were sitting in the cab. There was just chaos and hectic around us. And still this man sat there on the front seat smiling and laughing and speaking about all this as if it wasn't really a big deal to make a living here. We dropped him off at where the trotro to his area was leaving and went on to work. I felt like walking half a meter above the ground. There was this immense joy about life - mine and that of others. I felt strength and confidence, and for a moment I could understand why so many people in this country are such fervent believers.