Features
The Prophet part 1
Remove your shoes! The fetish priest barked as the two men entered the shrine. They complied.
You are welcome to the presence of Nana Kofi Broni, the mighty one who scatters his enemies and turns them into dust, the powerful one who walks with six legs and reaches his destination way ahead of everyone. What can I do for you, my children?
Er, Okomfo, this is my friend Papa Antobam. He has a problem, and I assured him that you can….. ‘But the fetish priest cut him short.
If it is he who has the problem, then let him speak for himself.
Antobam cleared his throat. Er, Okomfo, I will not make a long speech. I want to start a church, and I want to be able to do wonders, so that more people will join my church. Of course, the bottom line is money! I want the kind of spiritual power that will make people pay money for my services, without complaining. That is why I have come. Yaw Ansah tells me you can help me.
The fetish priest stared at Antobam for what seemed like ages. Finally, he spoke.
‘You want asore aduro?’
‘Precisely’, Okomfo, Antobam replied.
`Okay. Nana will do it for you. It is not hard for him at all. But there are a few requirements that you have to meet. I need to perform some rites which will enable Nana to bring the wealth you are asking for, from the spiritual world so that you can lay your hands on it, whenever you need it`.
`That is what I am looking for, Okomfo`.
‘Well then. You are clearly focused on what you want, and how you want to achieve it. Nana Broni is ever willing to help you. There are two sets of rituals to be performed. One of them can be done today, and the other can be done whenever you are able to put together the necessary items.
‘Nana’, Antobam said, ‘I came prepared, so if you don’t mind, please convert the items into cash. I think I can find enough money to pay. I would very much like to perform all the necessary rites here, today’.
‘Okay, an amount of two thousand cedis will settle it all. If you pay that, we will go ahead and perform the rituals shortly’.
Antobam rose, drew out an envelope from his trouser pocket and counted out some notes.
‘Here you are, Nana. Two thousand. I’m ready’.
‘Okay’, the fetish priest said as he picked up the money. He placed it gently in a big calabash, whispering some unintelligible words as he did so. Then he went outside, prepared a fire and put a huge pot on it. Within some fifteen minutes the water was boiling. He poured several concoctions in it, reciting some incantations as he did so.
‘Now’, he declared, ‘we are ready! Come forward. Papa went close to the big pot.
‘Step on that stone and get into the pot’. Papa Antobam hesitated, wondering whether it was wise to step into a pot of boiling water with his eyes wide open.
‘I say, get inside the pot!’ the man shouted. ‘Gingerly, Antobam stepped inside, but realised to his great surprise that instead of being very hot, the water felt cool. The fetish priest grabbed his head with his two hands and pushed him down for about a minute. Although he had closed his eyes and was inside for only a minute, he ‘saw’ quite a number of big, strange creatures in the water. They all came to him, pushing large crates containing money. The fetish priest pulled his head out just when he started gasping for air.
‘Did you see money? Lots of money’? The fetish priest asked.
‘Yes! I saw some big animals, and they brought big crates of money to me.’
‘Congratulations!’ Now go and start your church, and do your stuff. But remember, you must once a year to give thanks to the great Nana Kofi Broni for giving you the power to make money. But wait, you need to take this’. He brought out a gallon container, poured some of the contents of the huge pot into it, and gave it to him.
‘A few hours before your first service, pour this at the venue. From then, Nana Kofi Broni’s messengers will follow you wherever you go. You will see wonders.’
‘Thank you’, Antobam replied. ‘I will certainly be back.’ They shook hands, and the two friends left the shrine.
‘I told you I knew the man who could help you,’ Yaw Ansah said as they walked to the lorry station to join a vehicle for the twenty minute journey back to Koforidua.
‘I believe you now, Yaw, and I am really grateful. I assure you that I will not forget you when money starts rolling in’.
‘I will hold you to that promise. But I’m sure you will ‘do something’ for now, won’t you?’
‘Well’, Antobam said, let’s see what I can do now. He brought out the white envelope and took out a fifty cedi note. ‘You can have this for now, Yaw. As you know already, life has been very tough. In order to prepare for this trip I sold my TV and I gave out my rented room in Koforidua. I made three thousand cedis, from which I have already given out two thousand at the shrine. I have already spent two hundred cedis on our transport and food. Here is GH¢50 for you. I have to be careful with money until I start getting some money from the church business. I am going to collect my things from Koforidua and move into the family house at Kukurantumi until things start looking up. I will give out GH¢100 to my mother, and try to survive on what is left’.
‘I’m sure you will start making money the moment you start making yourself known. You must start immediately’.
‘I will do exactly that. I will find a place to start at Tafo this week, then I will open branches all over the Eastern Region, and move to Accra and Kumasi. In a few months I will be on all the big radio and TV stations’.
‘That’s the spirit, my brother. Others have made it, so why can’t you?’
‘You have a good point’. Very soon I will be among the big preachers in Ghana’.
A few days later, Antobam rented a loud hailer for GH¢10 and went round the lorry station and the town centre. ‘Do you need a quick, long-term solution to your marriage, financial and health problems? Do you want to travel abroad and get a good paying job? The day of your solution is here! Come to the open space behind the Zion school park, and see wonders. Solutions! Solutions! Solutions! 6’oclock sharp, every morning. We are waiting for you! Miracles! Miracles! Come and take yours!
The following morning, Antobam got to the venue just after four. He had selected that venue because apart from being out of town, there were no churches to compete with him. He erected a small platform to serve as pulpit, and sprinkled the water from the shrine all over the place, as the fetish priest had directed. Soon after that, he heard shrill sounds like voices. He looked around him and saw nothing, but the voices were certainly there. He felt some initial fear, but remembered that having paid for the services of Nana Kofi Broni’s angels, any spirits that had come there would work on his behalf. The voices, he told himself, confirmed that he was on his way to becoming a very rich, powerful man.
By six o’clock quite a number of people, mostly women, had gathered there.
‘My brothers and sisters’ you are all welcome. I assure you that today, you will see the end of your problems. I do not talk too much. I do as I say. Let’s allow some fifteen minutes for other brothers and sisters to arrive, then the service will begin. For now, let us start singing some praises to God. Can anyone lead us in some praises? A young woman did, and the service got underway. The numbers increased as the singing went on.
Antobam raised his hand for the singing to stop, and addressed the gathering.
‘My brothers and sisters, my name is Prophet Papa Antobam. I have come as your servant to bring you solutions to your problems. I have been praying for a long time, asking God when He would release me to go and serve my people. Finally, your prayers have been answered. I have brought quick, lasting solutions to any problem you will face. The Almighty God has heard your cry, and today, I assure you that you will see real solutions. One thing I ask of you, is that when you see the solutions, do not forget to come and give thanks for what God has done for you.
If it is he who has the problem, then let him speak for himself
By Ekow de Heer
Features
Tears of Ghanaman, home and abroad
The typical native of Sikaman is by nature a hospitable creature, a social animal with a big heart, a soul full of the milk of earthly goodness, and a spirit too loving for its own comfort.
Ghanaman hosts a foreign pal and he spends a fortune to make him very happy and comfortable-good food, clean booze, excellent accommodation and a woman for the night.
Sometimes the pal leaves without saying a “thank you but Ghanaman is not offended. He’d host another idiot even more splendidly. His nature is warm, his spirit benevolent. That is the typical Ghanaian and no wonder that many African-Americans say, “If you haven’t visited Ghana. Then you’ve not come to Africa.
You can even enter the country without a passport and a visa and you’ll be welcomed with a pot of palm wine.
If Ghanaman wants to go abroad, especially to an European country or the United States, it is often after an ordeal.
He has to doze in a queue at dawn at the embassy for days and if he is lucky to get through to being interviewed, he is confronted by someone who claims he or she has the power of discerning truth from lie.
In short Ghanaman must undergo a lie-detector test and has to answer questions that are either nonsensical or have no relevance to the trip at hand. When Joseph Kwame Korkorti wanted a visa to an European country, the attache studied Korkorti’s nose for a while and pronounced judgment.
“The way I see you, you won’t return to Ghana if I allow you to go. Korkorti nearly dislocated her jaw; Kwasiasem akwaakwa. In any case what had Korkorti’s nose got to do with the trip?
If Ghanaman, after several attempts, manages to get the visa and lands in the whiteman’s land, he is seen as another monkey uptown, a new arrival of a degenerate ape coming to invade civilized society. He is sneered at, mocked at and avoided like a plague. Some landlords abroad will not hire their rooms to blacks because they feel their presence in itself is bad business.
When a Sikaman publisher landed overseas and was riding in a public bus, an urchin who had the impudence and notoriety of a dead cockroach told his colleagues he was sure the black man had a tail which he was hiding in his pair of trousers. He didn’t end there. He said he was in fact going to pull out the tail for everyone to see.
True to his word he went and put his hand into the backside of the bewildered publisher, intent on grabbing his imaginary tail and pulling it out. It took a lot of patience on the part of the publisher to avert murder. He practically pinned the white miscreant on the floor by the neck and only let go when others intervene. Next time too…
The way we treat our foreign guests in comparison with the way they treat us is polar contrasting-two disparate extremes, one totally incomparable to the other. They hound us for immigration papers, deport us for overstaying and skinheads either target homes to perpetrate mayhem or attack black immigrants to gratify their racial madness
When these same people come here we accept them even more hospitably than our own kin. They enter without visas, overstay, impregnate our women and run away.
About half of foreigners in this country do not have valid resident permits and was not a bother until recently when fire was put under the buttocks of the Immigration Service
In fact, until recently I never knew Sikaman had an Immigration Service. The problem is that although their staff look resplendent in their green outfit, you never really see them anywhere. You’d think they are hidden from the public eye.
The first time I saw a group of them walking somewhere, I nearly mistook them for some sixth-form going to the library. Their ladies are pretty though.
So after all, Sikaman has an Immigration Service which I hear is now alert 24 hours a day tracking down illegal aliens and making sure they bound the exit via Kotoka International. A pat on their shoulder.
I am glad the Interior Ministry has also realised that the country has been too slack about who goes out or comes into Sikaman.
Now the Ministry has warned foreigners not to take the country’s commitment to its obligations under the various conditions as a sign of weakness or a source for the abuse of her hospitality.
“Ghana will not tolerate any such abuse,” Nii Okaija Adamafio, the Interior Minister said, baring his teeth and twitching his little moustache. He was inaugurating the Ghana Refugee and Immigration Service Boards.
He said some foreigners come in as tourists, investors, consultants, skilled workers or refugees. Others come as ‘charlatans, adventurers or plain criminals. “
Yes, there are many criminals among them. Our courts have tried a good number of them for fraud and misconduct.
It is time we welcome only those who would come and invest or tour and go back peacefully and not those whose criminal intentions are well-hidden but get exposed in due course of time.
This article was first published on Saturday March 14, 1998
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Features
Decisions have consequences
In this world, it is always important to recognise that every action or decision taken, has consequences.
It can result in something good or bad, depending on the quality of the decision, that is, the factors that were taken into account in the decision making.
The problem with a bad decision is that, in some instances, there is no opportunity to correct the result even though you have regretted the decision, which resulted in the unpleasant outcome.
This is what a friend of mine refers to as having regretted an unregretable regret. After church last Sunday, I was watching a programme on TV and a young lady was sharing with the host, how a bad decision she took, had affected her life immensely and adversely.
She narrated how she met a Caucasian and she got married to him. The white man arranged for her to join him after the marriage and processes were initiated for her to join her husband in UK. It took a while for the requisite documentation to be procured and during this period, she took a decision that has haunted her till date.
According to her narration, she met a man, a Ghanaian, who she started dating, even though she was a married woman.
After a while her documents were ready and so she left to join her husband abroad without breaking off the unholy relationship with the man from Ghana.
After she got to UK, this man from Ghana, kept pressuring her to leave the white man and return to him in Ghana. The white man at some point became a bit suspicious and asked about who she has been talking on the phone with for long spells, and she lied to him that it was her cousin.
Then comes the shocker. After the man from Ghana had sweet talked her continuously for a while, she decided to leave her husband and return to Ghana after only three weeks abroad.
She said, she asked the guy to swear to her that he would take care of both her and her mother and the guy swore to take good care of her and her mother as well as rent a 3-bedroom flat for her. She then took the decision to leave her husband and return to Ghana.
She told her mum that she was returning to Ghana to marry the guy in Ghana. According to her, her mother vigorously disagreed with her decision and wept.
She further added that her mum told her brother and they told her that they were going to tell her husband about her intentions.
According to her, she threatened that if they called her husband to inform him, then she would commit suicide, an idea given to her by the boyfriend in Ghana.
Her mum and brother afraid of what she might do, agreed not to tell her husband. She then told her husband that she was returning to Ghana to attend her Grandmother’s funeral.
The husband could not understand why she wanted to go back to Ghana after only three weeks stay so she had to lie that in their tradition, grandchildren are required to be present when the grandmother dies and is to be buried.
She returned to Ghana; the flat turns into a chamber and hall accommodation, the promise to take care of her mother does not materialise and generally she ends up furnishing the accommodation herself. All the promises given her by her boyfriend, turned out to be just mere words.
A phone the husband gave her, she left behind in UK out of guilty conscience knowing she was never coming back to UK.
Through that phone and social media, the husband found out about his boyfriend and that was the end of her marriage.
Meanwhile, things have gone awry here in Ghana and she had regretted and at a point in her narration, was trying desperately to hold back tears. Decisions indeed have consequences.
NB: ‘CHANGE KOTOKA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT TO KOFI BAAKO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT’
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