Chopmoney Wahala

The word “wahala” has its genesis in budget politics. It was conceived in Parliament House, christened at the NDC headquarters and outdoored on the streets of Accra.

Moses (Mathematical) Asaga, who coined the word, has still not been forgiven for inventing such an ear-catching expression.

The bad news is that wives and housewives have since adopted the word wahala, and we must pray they do not hit the streets.

These women are not seeing eye-to-eye with their husbands over the size, height or weight of chopmoney lately. Reports suggest they are warming up for action.

Chopmoney has become the centre of most domestic brawls. It is usually the remote cause of every marital jolt. For instance, when a husband and wife quarrel over the man’s extra-marital affairs, the woman is indirectly saying that the chopmoney has lost weight because part of it is being used to chase women.

Ironically, a wife would hardly complain if her husband drinks ten bottles of beer daily—as long as such prolific quaffing does not affect the health of the daily chopmoney.

Definition

Chopmoney has many definitions. Some include money meant for paying utility bills such as electricity, water and phone services. Ideally, however, chopmoney refers to money for the daily provision of food—usually supper.

In most homes, breakfast and lunch are not much of an issue. After tea and bread, everyone leaves for work, school or business and reconvenes at supper time. Lunch is therefore eaten outside, except on weekends.

So chopmoney covers what some call dinner. I honestly don’t know what supper is. I can’t recall any French I learnt in school—maybe I should start learning Greek.

In Sikaman, any man who leaves for work without leaving chopmoney is simply asking for trouble. Some wives take it cool, use their own money for cooking and later demand reimbursement at home. That is a pacifist—but still confrontational—approach.

Sometimes, a wife may notice that her husband has become notorious in chopmoney matters and would sneak out early when she is not looking. If she has no money at home, she may be forced to visit the husband at work to demand the cash.

Rainy Day

The moment she arrives, the palpitating husband knows why his wife’s face looks like a rainy day. He dares not argue, lest she raises her voice and announces to the world that Ogyam failed to settle the chopmoney palaver before splitting from home.

In some cases, the wife may be too something. She would want the man’s colleagues to know his character and would rant while the husband pleads in whispers:
“I don’t want people to hear what you’re saying.”

“Then change your character!” the woman would shout, drawing a sizeable crowd.

My uncle, Kofi Jogolo, once redefined chopmoney to include daily, weekly or monthly provision of cash—plus a little extra for hairdressing, manicure and pedicure.

According to him, wives factor personal appearance into chopmoney by insisting that inflation has attacked food items the same way armed robbers attack victims. In common parlance, wives tear chobo from the chopmoney to pay for rasta hairdos and other beautification expenses.

He does not understand why wives won’t ask directly for money to cover such costs but instead prey on the chopmoney. He is still wondering.

Complaint

My uncle believes wives complain about slimming chopmoney when they fail to extract enough to buy new funeral cloths, fix their nails or attach eyelashes. Such wives, he says, should be ignored.

But wives cannot be ignored that easily. They are the prime ministers of the home—holding the fort while the man is away drinking his brains off, chasing a newly found babe, or engaging in something equally unseemly.

The woman organises the home, ensures neatness and doubles as Senior Minister for Food Affairs. When she goes on strike, domestic cataclysm looms. She must be reasoned with—unless she is simply too unreasonable to contain.

So when she says the chopmoney has lost form, there is no need producing your payslip. She already knows your salary long before you do.

Her arguments are not based on slips of paper but on what is happening on the ground.

Sometimes, the women are right. Prices keep rising and chopmoney must be adjusted accordingly to meet the family’s nutritional needs. In many cases, women supplement with their own money—commendable indeed. But sooner or later, they will demand repayment.

After all, there is nothing like a free lunch.

First published on Saturday, February 4, 2006.

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