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Girls@war on MTN

If you are a male, elderly and use an MTN number prefixed with 024-4, you are likely to identify with my concerns in my epistle for today. However, if you are not on the social media WhatsApp platform, you will miss the fun. But, truth be told, it is not funny at all.

As a journalist I get to scour social media platforms for news gossips, though not all things on these platforms are edifying. My favourite is Facebook where I endeavour to engage ‘friends’ in intellectual discourse. I limit myself to just a few categories. I do not accept ‘friendship’ from people who do not post their photograph profiles and those who use unreal names for identity.

I am quick to ‘unfriend’ people whose requests I accept yet do not communicate with me. I have noticed people with up to 46,000 friends on Facebook and wonder why it is so. I do not know if they present them as part of their curriculum vitae (CV). I have shut down my Instagram account as I consider it a ‘madhouse’ and follow no one on Twitter.

Now, since the beginning of this year, I have been assailed by as many as 18 girls on Whatsapp; girls who are not on my contact list. They post profile pictures that qualify them for beauty contests any day.

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Their modus operandi is a simple ‘Hi…’ When you respond in like manner, she introduces herself and tells you where she lives, then proceeds to ask your name. If you do not respond to the initial ‘hi’ many of them let go. Some wait for a couple of days and reconnect.

Not all their identities are captured by the Truecaller app, but I have devised a way to get their identities. In all cases, save one, they turn up to be who they claim they are. The one exception was one who claimed to be a student at the Nursing Training School in Koforidua and said she wanted a relationship with me but was short of funds to pay her fees. She needed my help. I told her my niece taught at that school so I would get to her through my relative. All her response to this was “Fool,” and deleted our chat immediately thereafter.

Anytime I ask how they got my contact, their answer mostly is that they get it from WhatsApp. I give them the benefit of the doubt, but what runs through is their lack of communication skills. How are you? I’m a beautician. I’m fine, you? These are the only way they converse.

Then after a week or two, they ask you to send them money to pay medical bills for their ailing mother; never their father. I tell them in plain words that I am unable to help, first, because I do not know who they are, whether their demand is genuine and go on to ask if they look for people on Whatsapp to help their ailing relatives.

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One, who claimed to be a “fashion and designer,” (whatever that means) living in Nzema, wanted to visit me in Accra after saying ‘hi…’ for four days and wanted me to send her GHc500 for transport. Seeing through this, I asked her to find her way to the capital and I would pay her transport fare. That was the last I heard from her.

I own multiple numbers from all the Telcos, but why these girls only target MTN baffles me. Even with MTN, I have prefixes 024-2, 054 and 055, but it is only the 024-4 they contact me on in spite of the fact that all the others are also on Whatsapp. Or am I the only one these girls take a fancy to?

These are really girls at war. A bold one asked to be my friend on Facebook. Seeing she was friends with many people from my family, church and friends, I accepted her friendship. Her profile painted a picture of someone who graduated from the University of Ghana, lives somewhere in the capital and is into beauty therapy.

A couple of months later, she asked if I was on Whatsapp. I gave her one of my numbers. She asked what I did and I asked her to check my profile on LinkedIn, Google or Facebook. I asked if she wanted my CV. She did not know what a CV was. That was proof she never went to Legon.

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One morning, she sent the usual greetings and, out of the blue came, “When can I make love with U?” I almost felt giddy. Then I called my brother in Koforidua to find out about this girl. He said he had many friends on Facebook he hardly communicated with, adding he was rarely on that platform lately. My other friends could not remember her. My brother cautioned me against a possible blackmail.

Later, my response to her was, “Really? But we hardly know each other and U don’t know if I’m married or not. Secondly, I’ve seen that U are friends with two of my brothers on Facebook and very good friends of mine too. And I don’t have relationships without telling my siblings bcoz of my position in society, so I’m at a loss as to how this can work out.” Unfazed by my response, she shot back that she had feelings for me.

How girls can spray their pheromones all over social media befuddles the mind. When I returned to check her out on Facebook, it turned out that she has many accounts to her name, and her photographs are on full display.And all these girls are below 30, far younger than my youngest daughter who turns 36 today.

I don’t know if the economic situation in the landis what drives these girls into this rather aggressive mode of soliciting sustenance or they are just there to fleece lascivious or lecherous men who might be game for their escapades. 

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A lady friend gave me a perspective on this.  She tells me that the young men of their generation, to start with, are not as romantic as the elderly ones. Next, all they think of is sex, sex and more sex. To them sex is coterminous with love; nothing more, nothing less. She adds that young women are looking for love and affection and the elderly men fit the bill.

Why then do these girls make financial demands? My friend did not have a ready answer to this, but surmised that some might be driven first by financial considerations. “They are likely in the category of desperados who want money at any cost,” she quipped.

But there is one who claims she wants an elderly, but experienced, man to take her under his wings and teach her what life is all about. She says she is ready to introduce her ‘mentor’ to her family in case doubts arise. As espoused by Rev. Dr. F. K. Fiawoo, a pet snake may appear harmless in its infancy, “…but the tendency to prey upon man grows in proportion. And soon you have at home a ferocious animal with all elements of atrocity fully developed.”

One other thing I do is to give them the Whatsapp number of a fund administrator. They are asked to provide verifiable details. For example, which hospital the ailing relative is, name of the physician, contact of the health facility etc. None has so far provided any details.

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Personally, I lay no claim to be tech savvy but is there a way our Telcos can protect their clients from unsolicited ‘attacks’ from people not on their contact list? Or can Whatsapp protect us from these spams? But then, why do these girls target only MTN users?

I know I have not seen the last of these girls. Indeed, they are girls at war, but I am ready for them.

Writer’s email address: akofa45@yahoo.com

By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia

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Tears of Ghanaman, home and abroad

• Sikaman residents are more hospital to foreign guests than their own kin
• Sikaman residents are more hospital to foreign guests than their own kin

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.

Sikaman Palava
Sikaman Palava

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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 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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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