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A horrifying encounter with a terrible woman

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Wherever there is darkness, evil thrives. Load-shedding had brought darkness to Sika­man and the rate of sin has gone up dramatically. When I caught a young man practically working up a young girl in the dark near my home around midnight, I knew the effects of load shedding were becoming far-reaching.

Kwame Alomele tall and halt naked suddenly burst onto the scene guess the lovers became frightened by my height and apparent size and before I could say Jack the horrified forni­cators had taken off like Olympic athletes. Perhaps they thought I was the latest ghost in town.

In fact I couldn’t sleep that night because of the heat: it was when I came out almost naked to get some breeze that I saw the human dogs moaning excitedly.

At first I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. And I am not used to watching such live performances. The problem is that I am a born-again Christian. Any-how before I could come to terms with the goings-on of the orgiastic ceremony, there was a sudden ruffle and then the quick shuffling of feet almost simultane­ously didn’t know girls could also run that fast.

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I am pretty sure they were damn scared and would never try it again around my territory. It is dangerous territory. You wouldn’t know when Kwame Alomele will appear in white and cause horror and panic.

Apart from the unbearable heat one has to face on load-shedding nights, you are also denied cold drinks. These days some of us have to pick a taxi to non-load-shedding areas to chill. It was last week Saturday when I made one such trip, and what an experience it was.

I was chilling contentedly and enjoying the breeze when a young woman of about 28 walked slowly and came to my table. I looked up at her and waited for her to talk. She said nothing.

“Are you looking for me?” I asked.

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“I thought you were my brother who said I should meet him here. He looks exactly like you.”

“I see, look around, maybe he is hanging around somewhere in that corner,” I told her.

She looked around with disinterest and said her brother was nowhere around. I expected her to re-trace her steps and walk off. She didn’t.

Instead she said, “Well, once I haven’t seen my brother, I might as well sit here with you”. She sat down and smiled at me. I looked at her, examining her features carefully to make sure I was not dealing with any common ghost. She asked for a drink and I asked her to pick it up herself at the counter.

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She stood up and while walking to the counter, she dangled her weighty buttocks. I was impressed.

She came back with a bottle of Guinness. “As for me, I don’t like drinking,” she declared. A little Guinness or malt is all I take. But I must confess that I want to spend the night with you that’s why I am here. I like your structure-thick tall. Are you a prince?

I was amused I wasn’t even a neph­ew of an Odikro much more becoming a prince. I took my drink quietly and she talked on. Knowing she was a prostitute, I feigned interest in her just to keep up the conversation.

How much do you charge for full night? I asked.

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Charge? I don’t charge, I am not a prostitute. When you sleep with me, whatever you give me, I take.”

“I am not a greedy person believe me. Well I said, “I am really not in the mood today. You can meet here tomorrow same time and we’ll go and have a nice time. Do you know any hotels around? “Plenty! But I want to sleep with you tonight,” am really in love with you.”

Not tonight, No way! I am sleeping with you tonight by force,” she said emphatically and aggressively.

I became alarmed. What did she mean? Was she going force me into bed? Not Kwame Alomele, no matter how honey I become.

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“Well, you know something, “I proposed, “I know you are only after the money. So you get this ¢2,000 and leave me alone.”

“Who told you I want money?” she asked me. I want money alright but I also want to have sex tonight. I feel for you. I know a hotel around the cor­ner. Please, hurry with your drink and let’s go.”

“I am not interested,” I said. “I don’t know you from anywhere: how can I sleep with you? You may even be a ghost.” She laughed aloud.

“A ghost? She asked soon after. “If you see a ghost you can’t recognise it? Well I am not a ghost. I am a darling. If you say you are not in the mood for sex, I can do something to help you. I’ll buy two raw eggs, mix it with condensed milk for you to take. You’ll never stop coming. You can go four rounds.”

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I was quite fascinated with her brand of sex therapy. She might have studied a very crude form of bio­chemistry and wanted to apply on Kwame Alomele. Wallahi

I finished my drink, got up to leave and she got up quickly and followed me. Close markings! I told her I’ll pick a taxi home and she responded by saying we were not going home but to a hotel. “You’ll like the style I’ll display for you.

You’ll forget about your wife for good; if you like let’s bet.”

I realised I was in trouble. I started watching out for a taxi that would have only one vacant space at the back so that I could leave without her. She realised my intention and cautioned. “I’ll drag you out if you want to leave me behind; if you like try.

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I now had to use my wits to get away from the evil woman who was as tall as myself. I couldn’t underrate her strength. In fact she had muscles and I guess I was in for it. Moreover I didn’t want her to create a scene.

Craftily I told her I had changed my mind and that I was prepared to go to the hotel with her after all. I’d look for an empty taxi so that we could start the romance in the back seat to precede the actual show­down, I told her.

She was glad. She drew closer to me. Oh my dear. She crooned. “I knew you were going to agree. You only wanted to bluff me small, isn’t it?”

Of course. I must bluff a bit. After all, I am a prince. Am I not? She laughed.

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I espied an empty taxi coming but deliberately allowed to pass. She called my attention: That’s an empty one; I stopped it quickly.

“Hold on. I told her “They charge exorbitantly if you appear too inter­ested in them. Wait here and let me go bargain with the driver.”

“You rather wait, “she replied. “I’ll bargain with him. These drivers they are swine”

“Please, you are a woman. Bar­gaining is a man’s job. Just stand by.”

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“No problem.”

I walked to the cab and told the driver quietly that as soon as I jump into the front seat, he should speed away.

“Aren’t you going with the lady?” he asked with concern.

I say speed away. Don’t ask me questions. I am paying for the job”

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In a sudden flash, the woman saw me open the front door and jump into the seat. She dashed in my direction with lightning speed. At that very mo­ment, the driver revved the engine, released the clutch and fired the accelerator.

The car jerked forward, landed in a pot-hole, came out of it and veered from the road towards a large gutter. The driver skilfully controlled the car and brought it back on track and powered the accelerator furiously.

I turned to look back and saw to my horror that this woman was chas­ing the car. Her speed was unbeliev­able. This woman is not human, I said to myself.

Indeed it was a real- load-shed­ding experience for me.

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This article was first publish on Saturday, February 28, 1998

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The eye is indeed the lamp of the body

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There is a scripture that is found in Matthew 6:22 which says that the lamp of the body is the eye and therefore the eye must see well to enable the body to get to its destination.  

What most people do not know is that behind the scenes, there is a strong interaction between the eyes and the brain before a picture becomes clear.  The state of mind therefore is crucial to the eye seeing clearly to enable the body to process accurately the information the eyes are feeding it for proper identification of what the eyes see. 

This is similar to how a person behaves i.e. what informs the decisions that forms in the mind that results in the actions that a person performs.  The actions of a person does not therefore just happen but is as a result of things that went on in the mind, which in most cases resulted from information passed on to it by the eyes either consciously or unconsciously.

There are so many issues that affect our society which makes one wonder, whether the people who displayed such acts were created by someone or something other than God. 

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How can a person see a beach created by God with beautiful beaches and fresh air blowing all around, decides to defecate at such places, and therefore desecrate the environment?  lt is simply mind boggling? 

When other people in other countries who dwell on the coast are using their beaches for tourist attraction purposes as a means of livelihood and also to promote environmental health, some people living around our beaches, have turned them into rubbish dumping sites and toilets. 

It is a very sad situation and the earlier we did something about it the better.  It is a national emergency that must engage the attention, first of the government and then the citizenry, where religious bodies and NGOs must play a critical role.

The things we focus on in this country, needs to be addressed.  Our minds which processes the info the eyes send to the brain, must be disciplined.  There are certain behaviours that a disciplined mind can ignore even when the eye has provided info to the brain.  One of the things a disciplined mind does, is the avoidance of a second look, which is critical for every person who wants to avoid adultery or fornication. 

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Once a person is not blind, he will see things.  The boobs, the ‘shankus’, the coca cola shapes, the light complexioned, the dark complexioned etc. the eyes will definitely see and report same to the brain.  What the brain or the mind decides to do or instructs the eye to do is the issue. 

It can decide to instruct the eye to take a second look and let the mind drool over it or say ignore it and that will be the end.

If the mind becomes trained to focus on environmental issues like clean environment, the eyes will automatically be reporting on insanitary conditions to the brain as and when it sees them.  The mind will pay attention to such data and begin to process them and to identify solutions to deal with the reported insanitary conditions. 

There is the need to encourage citizens to train the mind to focus on the right thing so that in tandem with the eyes, focus will be maintained.  When the mind is so trained, it communicates with the eye to also focus on hood things that helps in both are spiritual life and our secular lives, for indeed the eyes are the lamp of the body.  God bless.

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 Arming the Sikaman journalists to the teeth

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THE relationship between New Times Corporation (NTC) and African Concrete Productions (ACP) is based entirely on matters of the stomach. Each depends on the other in a dietary symbiosis, reinforced by the close proximity of each other

At lunchtime, you’d see a particular set of Times workers marching regimentally to ACP to face the wall. You’d think they are soldiers. It has long been declared that the company manufactures the best kokonte in the Greater Accra Region. ACP is, therefore, a culinary haven for those NTC kokonte fans, both male and female.

As the NTC kokonte warriors cross the border to ACP, you’d see some ACP banku fanatics dancing joyously to NTC. They are lucky folks because they do not have to obtain visa to enter into ‘Times’ to attack the balls of banku with precision and accuracy. They also claim that the lightsoup at ‘Times’ is arguably the best in West Africa.

So the relationship between the two entities was quite cordial and based practically on stomach palaver, until ACP workers staged an industrial revolution, whereupon the managing director, accountant and estate manager were allegedly stripped naked and locked up in a room. An insurgency had began in earnest.

An ACP worker came to ‘Times’, this time not to eat banku and okro. He had come to inform newsmen that juicy stuff awaited them at ACP. It could make a front page lead story.

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A camerawoman and a female reporter were accordingly dispatched to go and bring back news, juicy news as juicy as kokonte and groundnut soup.

Sikaman Palava
Sikaman Palava

I was driving to work when I espied the familiar camerawoman clicking away outside the ACP premises. I didn’t see any ‘Times’ reporter but angry workers who were on the verge of getting violent. I slowed down and the driver behind blew his horn at me like a lunatic. I drove on.

Later, I heard the reporter and camerawoman were harassed and brutalised. The report came,. “The camerawoman, Mrs Salome Adonu-Agbottah and reporter Mrs Doreen Allotey, in an attempt to retrieve the camera which the workers had seized from them were severely beaten. They were manhandled and almost pushed into a big gutter opposite the company’s premises.

BRUISES

“….The camerawoman had bruises on her body, her hand bag was destroyed and the money in it stolen. Mrs Allotey’s watch was also snatched and her feet stamped on.”

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Luckily, it was not her nose that was trampled upon. She has a beautiful nose.

The bad news was received with extreme sorrow. If the victims had been men, it would not have seemed too bad. But to brutalise women is just unacceptable. The New Times Corporation has not stopped mourning the incident which has been condemned in many circles.

Some people keep asking me why Times sent females to cover a potentially violent demonstration. I tell them they might as well ask why CNN’s amazon, Christina Amanpour, is assigned to cover the carnage in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Rwanda. She is always on the frontline in jeans and jacket.

Journalism is a potentially hazardous profession, and once you accept to study and practise the trade, you might as well bone up to face any assignment as long as your superiors feel you are capable of handling it or you have demonstrated the capacity to handle it. Both males and females can be assigned anywhere, anytime just like policemen and women are assigned.

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The only difference between cops and pressmen is that the latter are armed only with a pen and the former with a gun. The question is should newsmen also arm themselves so that in any event of an assault they would not be found wanting in self-defence? They can’t adequately defend themselves with a pen and a jotter. A pen cannot even disfigure an opponent’s upper lip.

Photo-journalists have particularly suffered violence. Spectator ace-cameraman Vincent Dzatse was severely assaulted by AMA men when he attempted to take pictures of their indiscretions.

Sports cameraman, P. K. Arthur has been beaten more than once at the sports stadium when riots errupted and he wanted to capture it on his lenses.

Some sports journalists have been banned from entering the Accra Sports Stadium by supporters because in their comments, they didn’t write “sense”. Some supporters once nearly lynched Christian Abbew, Spectator Sports Editor, near a courtroom. He was stoned like the biblical Stephen. He had gone to defend a contempt charge.

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I think it is time journalists met and discussed how best to defend themselves in any event of an attack by individuals or mobs. In the pursuance of their duty, they must be free from harassment and assault.

Some journalists go to work and return home with a black-eye or a double fore-head. It is just not right. Something has to be done about it. I think journalists should be armed. But first we must be trained in the use of firearms so that our warning shot do not hit below the belt. What about training in Kung Fu?

This article was first published on Saturday, October 17, 1998.

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