The irony of this ``aid business'' doesn't end here. A big chunk of the total package gets spent on administrative costs, salaries and perks of the international civil servants involved in the noble cause. What is left primarily supports the economies of the donor nations. The real recipients -- the wretched poor for whom the money was originally intended -- usually end up with only a trickle, never more than 10 per cent of the original sum!Anyway, back to Ghana and my trip to the capital Accra. I had been

forewarned aboutthe premium on foreign currency. In the arrival lounge -- or shed -- the custom officers' insistence that I exchange a minimum of $100 for each day of the proposed stay put my hackles up. We haggled and finally I got away by exchanging only $200. Promptly, 560 Cedis -- the local currency -- was given to me. I was surprised that they hadn't even charged any commission.

As soon as the ramshackle cab moved out of the airport, the young driver turned to me and literally started begging for ``some dollars'' which ``he needed desperately to buy spare parts for the car''. I was promised a ``good rate'' and at the motel the kid even picked up my suitcase, offering to help me into the cottage. I was suspicious but gave in to his insistent cajoling. I made an excuse that I was carrying mostly travellers cheques and could give him only $50 in cash. The youngster seemed overjoyed; he grabbed the note and, after thanking me repeatedly, counted some money and placed it on the table. ``Please don't ask for more. I'm verypoor,'' were his parting words.

It was only after he'd left that I counted the notes. I was surprised to find 300 Cedis. So, there was so much difference in the official and market rates of exchange. The guy at the airport had given me 2.5 Cedis to the dollar and this ``poor'' chap had voluntarily left six! I was already making plans for the money I would save on this trip.

Next morning I touched base with Vinod Dhawan, an Indian from Agra whose address was given to me by a common friend back home. We made plans to meet later; before hanging up Vinod warned me not to exchange any money. ``They'll rip you with the official rate. In the market you can get over 15 Cedis to the dollar.'' ``Fifteen, did you say?'' ``Yes sir, even more. In any case you don't have to bother. I'll send some money through the driver. We can settle when you are leaving.''

I didn't have to spend many dollars during my four-night stay. Everything was so ``cheap''. Of course, there wasn't much to be bought except some shoddysouvenirs and cocoa. Cocoa, along with gold, is their other major produce. Once again the corrupt system of agents ensures that the country earns very little for this bounty of nature.

Before driving back to the airport on the last day, I spoke with Vinod. ``Hope you've spent all your Cedis?'' he asked. ``Why, I'll have about a 1,000 left after the taxi fare. I'm going to change them back to dollars and make a killing,'' I gushed. ``You've a hope in hell. They don't do any reverse conversion here. Anyway, just give it to the bell boy or the cabby or take it home to use as wall paper. Even the guys at the airport will want their tip in dollars -- not this funny money.''

The Cedis later dropped to over 40 per dollar, before the military junta took over power in the country.