Features
Criminals and gullible natives
A criminal is a criminal whether or he has thick lips. As such, I strongly disagree with the French psychologist, Lombroso, whose idea of a criminal is a person with hard features and thick lips. If Lombroso had conducted his research in Africa, he probably might have condemned Africans to be a criminal race, since broad noses and thick lips, among others, comprise the African’s visage.
In Sikaman for instance, we have dangerous criminals whose physiognomy has nothing to do with their criminality. We have criminal die-hards and recidivists who are handsome gentlemen and comely ladies. Women who dupe for instance are the most attractive, albeit with dark minds.
And one thing I have come to realise of late is that there has been a return to the use of wits and magic in place of violence by criminals, especially by thieves and burglars. Perhaps, the idea of firing squads does not particularly appeal to them.
Using wits and magıc has a long history in Sikaman. In 1974, certain crooks, allegedly from a neighbouring country, invaded Sikaman to make money. They greeted you, you responded and your genitals got lost if you were a man. If a woman, your breasts vanished in a twinkle of an eye.
In desperation and bewilderment, weeping and gnashing of teeth, you quickly had to agree to pay quite a sum of money to another man (an accomplice) who approached you offering help, and you got back your sexual accessories.
It was widely disseminated that the antidote to the magic was pepper or charcoal. You simply had to put one of these into your pockets wherever you were going and then you were safe. Those days you could see Sikaman natives laden with pepper in all pockets and some with loads of charcoal in their back pockets. Pepper and charcoal became essential commodities.
This criminal practice died down in Tema for instance, not because people were using pepper and charcoal, but because one of the so-called magicians met a rather tragic end. He was identified by his victim and promptly lynched through mob violence.
Sometime last year, the ‘Spectator’ carried a front page exclusive of a man with a tribal mark who does not cherish using violence to earn a living. The man, it was alleged, made lucrative business by dressing like a woman, with slit and kaba, and high-heeled stiletto shoes, complete with make-up and earrings. I wonder what really was attractive about this muscular gentleman, no matter the finesse with which he executed the make-up and the power with which he wriggled his buttocks when walking. Anyhow, he made a tidy sum duping unsuspecting men before being told enough was enough.
In a bid to burgle a business executive in a quiet residential area, a man uses a ladder to enable him get access to the top chamber at about 2a.m, unfortunately for the thief, the executive boss does not sleep with both ears. One ear is, therefore, alive like a 24-hour radio frequency. He hears the sound as the thief works his way upstairs via the ladder.
The man wakes up and descries a tall, bulky barrel chested human being, who could have passed for a gorilla, ascending a wooden ladder pitched against his window. He had never seen such a formidable figure.
However, as the thief nearly gets to the top, and with all his might pushes the man takes courage and with all his might pushes the ladder off his window. The criminal lands on his back with the ladder atop him, and barks like a dog although he is a perfect human being.
But he is also a professional. He quickly wakes up from the tragedy, wipes the sand off his face and hair, carries the ladder on his broad shoulders and trots dizzily away home to plan another strategy. After an alarm had been sounded for his arrest, he was nowhere to be found.
A boy of about 13 enters into a house and meets the children of a prosperous man whose wife is a businesswoman. The boy tells the children that he has been sent by their mother to carry the video set to a repairer. The children become sceptical, because the video set is in excellent condition.
Anyhow, the teenager convinces them that the repairer had to put something right somewhere. The children are too willing and allowed the smiling adolescent to carry away their beautiful set to improve the picture quality.
Their mother returns at dusk and denies ever sending a boy to the house. Up till this day neither the video set nor the boy has been found.
The latest episode was reported in the Ghanaian Times by Francis Gasu, some three weeks back.
A woman meets two girls at the Kwame Nkrumah Circle, Accra, on their way to buy exercise books at the premises of New Times Corporation. She advises the elder of the two to remove whatever money they were having in their ladies’ bag, to keep it safe by wrapping it in some pieces of paper. She asks them to put the money into a nylon sack -they were holding, and to hurry since according to her, thieves were following them.
The girls indeed hurry. But when they got to New Times and decided to take out the GH¢36,000 wrapped in the papers, the money is absent, the papers intact. So magically dangerous! They came weeping and became confounded at this magical gimmickry perpetuated by a seemingly innocent and helpful woman.
There are thieves and criminals of different grades making money by relying on the gullibility of the native. When a thief enters a court room, he is the most dangerous of his calibre. And when a thief wields a ladder, it is an indication that he knows his job.
A man in brown overall with a ladder firmly held onto his shoulder, begs his way through the capacity crowd present to witness a long-awaited trial. He is allowed into the courtroom and he bows to the judge who solemnly acknowledges the reverence.
He unloads his tall ladder and puts it against the wall as court proceedings were underway. He climbs the ladder and screws out the large beautiful wall clock that had stopped working some two weeks back. The man must be a repairer and his forehead looks like that of a very efficient watch repairer.
He descends the ladder with the clock, puts the ladder on his shoulder, bows again to the judge and is given way to pass. That has been the end of the beautiful clock and the efficient repairer who incidentally does not have thick lips.
These are all true stories which have occurred at one time or the other. They are the perfect substitutes for armed robbery. The thieves come in many forms and guises. They use brains and magic when the going becomes tough.
Be on your guard and save your property!
This article was first published on Saturday October 13, 1990.
When Abigail Fremah steps up to the Armwrestling table, the noise fades, the tension settles, and order takes over.
Despite a calm, but firm and meticulous disposition, she has become one of the quiet forces shaping Ghana’s growing reputation in the sport, not as an athlete, but a referee trusted on the continental stage.
Abigail’s journey into Armwrestling did not begin at the table. Like many Ghanaian sports enthusiasts, she grew up playing several disciplines. Football was her first love, but she also featured in volleyball and basketball during her school years. Sports, she says, was simply a way of life not just for her.
“It runs through the family. All my siblings are into sports,” she stated.
“I was involved in almost every sport in school, football, volleyball, netball, hockey; I did everything,” she recalls.
Her academic background in Health, Physical Education and Recreation laid a solid foundation for her sporting career. While on scholarship at the university (University of Cape Coast), she often used her modest budget to support young athletes, sometimes sharing skills and even T-shirts at programmes she attended. Giving back, she explains, has always been part of her motivation.
However, as she matured as an athlete, Abigail made a critical self-assessment.
“Armwrestling involves a lot of strength,” she admits. “Looking at my body type, I realised I couldn’t fit properly as a competitive athlete.”
That moment of honesty pushed her to a different trajectory but equally important path in sports; which is officiating.
During her National Service, she was encouraged by Mr Charles Osei Asibey, the President of the Ghana Armwrestling Federation (GAF), to consider officiating. He introduced her to a technical official, Mr Hussein Akuerteh Addy, who formally took her through the basics of Armwrestling officiating in 2021.
“I started as a case official,” she says. “We moved from region to region every week, officiating competitions. That’s where it all began.”
By 2022, Abigail was actively involved in national assignments, though she missed the African Championship that year. Her breakthrough came in 2023, when Ghana hosted the African Armwrestling Championship.
It was her first experience officiating at a major international competition and it changed everything.
“That was my first national and international exposure at the same time,” she says. “It really opened my eyes.”
Today, Abigail is a World Junior Armwrestling Referee, a status earned through performance, consistency and discipline. She explains that progression in officiating was not automatic.
“It’s all about performance, your appearance at African Championships, your conduct, how you handle pressure; that’s what takes you to the world level,” she stressed.
As a referee, Abigail’s priority is safety and fairness. Armwrestling, she notes, comes with risks, particularly injuries to the wrists, elbows, shoulders and arms.
“If athletes don’t follow the rules or refuse to listen to officials, injuries can happen,” she explains, adding that focus was everything.
Before every match, she ensures that all equipment which includes elbow pads, hand pegs and table alignment were properly set. Athletes are not allowed to cover their elbows, must grip correctly, and must follow the referee’s commands precisely.
“We make sure everything is fixed before the grip,” she says. “Once we say ‘Ready… Go’, there should be no confusion.”
She is also firm on discipline. Warnings are issued for infractions, and repeated misconduct attracts penalties.
“The referee must be respected, if you don’t listen, the rules will deal with you,” she says.
Abigail credits her confidence partly to her sporting family background. Her mother was a volleyball player, while other family members also participated in sports. Though they were initially concerned about her safety, her rise to the top reassured them.
“They were afraid at first,” she admits. “But they were also very proud, especially because some of them never got the opportunity to reach this level.”
Looking ahead, Abigail is optimistic about the future of Armwrestling in Ghana. In less than a decade, the country has produced African and world-level medalists, a sign, she believes, of great things to come for Ghana.
“Whenever we go out, we come back with medals such as gold and silver,” she says, and to her that was a sign of growth.
In the next five to ten years, Abigail sees herself rising to become a World Master Referee, the highest officiating level in the sport. Until then, her routine remains intense, training four times a week, working closely with athletes, standing on her feet for hours, and constantly refining her understanding of the rules.
“I love this sport,” she says simply. “That love is what keeps me going.”
Abigail encouraged women to be bold and intentional about their place in sports saying “don’t limit yourself because of fear or stereotypes.”
She also urged women to invest in learning, discipline and consistency, stressing that respect was earned through performance.
For Abigail, as Ghana’s armwrestlers continue to make their mark, she will remain where she is most effective at the table, ensuring the game is played right.
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
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As he had promised Aperkeh, the elderly man and his wife and three daughters stopped by Aperkeh’s parents’ house. Mr Amando and his family were preparing to settle in for the night.
“Brother Ben and family”, Mr Joshua Amando said warmly, “although I know you are here on a matter that can hardly be described as joyous, it is still good to see you. You are welcome. Please sit down while I bring you water”.
“Yes, we will take water, even though we are hardly thirsty, because this is our home”.
“Okay, Ben”, he started after they had drank, “Let me go straight to the point. My daughter Priscilla has told me about the goings on between her brother Aperkeh and our daughter Stella.
Before informing me, Priscilla had expressed concern to Aperkeh about some habits he is adopting, especially the late nights and the drinking. She tells me that one Saturday morning, she was there when Stella complained about his drinking and some girls who had come to the house to look for him, and he assaulted her.
I called him and complained, but all he could say was that I don’t know what caused him to react that way, so I could not judge him. Now he does not answer my calls.
I have sent Priscilla to his house to call him, but he has refused to come. Unfortunately, Ben, my son is a much different person than the young boy who completed university and started work at the bank. I am really embarrassed about his treatment of Stella”.
“Joshua, let me assure you that even though what is happening is very unfortunate, it will not affect our relationship.
We have been friends since childhood, and I thought that with their parents’ blessing, the relationship between Aperkeh and Stella would grow to become a blessing to all of us. But there appears to be a real challenge now.
Stella thinks that Aperkeh wants her out of his house, and indeed Aperkeh himself told me that, about an hour ago.
So I’m taking my daughter home. I suggest that you do what you can to straighten him out, but if it does not work out, let’s accept the situation and continue to be one family.
I am sure that being the well behaved girl that she is, Stella will meet a young man who will cherish her. Fortunately, this problem is happening early in the day, so they can sort things out if possible, or move on with their lives if they are unable to stay together”.
“I’m really grateful for that, Ben. I will do my best in the next few days to reason with him, because apart from the relationship with Stella, Aperkeh is risking his job and career with this lifestyle.
A good job and salary offers an opportunity to gather momentum in life, not to destroy yourself”.
“Okay Brother Joshua. We will say goodnight. I hope to hear positive news from you”.
As he descended in the lift from the fourth to the ground floor, Aperkeh wondered who would be waiting at the reception to see him at nine on Monday morning. He had spent good time with both of his new girls during the weekend, so it had to be someone else. He got out of the lift and pulled a face when he saw Priscilla.
“Priscilla”, he said as he sat down by her, “what do you want here? You know Monday morning is a busy time at the bank. I am a very busy person, so say what you want, I have work to do”.
“You are very funny, Aperkeh. You are telling me, your sister, that you have work to do, so I should hurry up? Okay, Dad says I should advise you to come home tonight, because he wants to discuss the issue of Stella with you. He sent me to you twice, and you did not come.
He has tried to call you quite a number of times, but you have refused to answer his calls. He says that if you do not come tonight, you will be very surprised at what he will do. He says you will not like it at all, so better come.
“What is all this? Why won’t you people leave me alone? Stella is very disrespectful. I told her that if she wanted to continue to live in my house, she must obey me. It is that simple.
She chose to continue ordering me about, controlling me in my own house, so I told her that if she could not live under my conditions she should leave. And she left. In fact, her own father came and took her away. So what again?’’
“How did she disobey or control you? Was she complaining about your continuous drinking and late nights? And did you slap her on several occasions because of that? Did you tell her that if she could not live under your conditions she should leave? You actually said that to her father? You have forgotten that before she came to live with you, our two parents met and agreed, and gave it their blessing?’
“Why don’t you leave, Priscilla? I don’t have to listen to all that”. “Okay, I will go. Your father who gave birth to you and educated you to university level sends me to you, and you ask me to leave? I wish you would defy him, and refuse to come home as he’s telling you, because he is planning to give you the discipline you badly need. Let me tell you. Stella is such a beautiful and decent girl, and I assure you that someone will grab her before you say Jack. You are only 30 years old, and you have already become a drunkard”.
As he walked towards the lift, Aperkeh decided on what to do. He would go home, and calmly listen to what his father had to say. The old man was very unpredictable, and he wouldn’t dare ignore him. So he would take all the insults and threats, but as for Stella she was history. According to Priscilla, Stella was beautiful and all that, but she had not seen the two curvaceous princesses who were all over him, ready to do anything he asked. And these were not barely literate waakye girls, but university graduates from wealthy homes, really classy girls. With stuff like that, who needs a waakye girl? He smiled as he took his seat.
A few minutes to five, Aperkeh was packing up to leave for home to meet his dad when his phone rang. It was Priscilla.
“Aperkeh, Dad says you don’t need to bother to come. Stella’s dad says she came to him early this morning to plead that she would rather stay at home than return to your house. She thinks you are already decided to be rid of her, and she does not want to risk being assaulted again. So it’s done. You can go ahead and enjoy the nice life you have started”.
Before he could tell her to go to hell, Priscilla hanged up the line. He was partially stung that his dad had virtually cut him off. The last thing anyone would want was to fall out of relationship with his own family, which had always supported him.
But the truth was he was no longer interested in Stella. What was wrong with going by one’s feelings? He could only hope that one day, his parents and sister would try to reason with him.
By Ekow de Heer
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