Features
Obituaristic and marital nonsense
It was a yearly ritual. Every year, on the day her husband died, she dressed up beautifully, went on top of his grave and danced to her satisfaction. For several hours, she’d boogie up and down, style after style, until she could dance no more. She’d then descend the grave and walk home panting yet contented.
When asked by reporters why she had taken to the yearly open-air disco dancing, the widow said it was in honour of DEATH which took away her husband. “When he was alive. I never had a moment’s peace,” she said.
What an honest confession about a dead person. She minced no words. The man gave her no peace, and that was exactly what she was saying. A widow in Sikaman would dare not say that of her deceased husband. His family members would procure pick-axes, hoes and cutlasses and descend on her with red eyes and tear her to pieces.
It is traditionally not proper to speak ill of people when they are dead, but some people are beginning to feel that the custom of speaking well about even dead criminals at funerals is not helping society either.
They claim that if the living know that all their misdeeds will be recounted at their funeral when they are dead, they will endeavour not to misconduct themselves while alive. I think that is a valid point, because the dead have had it too easy.
When someone volunteered to say that a deceased fellow died of alcohol, his neck was nearly twisted. What right did he have to air the cause of death even if it was true that the guy had died of too much bitters? In any case, did he perform any post mortem to ascertain the cause of death? And for what earthly or heavenly reason did he have to associate their loved one with an evil called ALCOHOL? “Next time you talk nonsense, we shall physically weaken your jaw.
It was at a funeral when a pastor undertook to say nice words about a dead common criminal that he was corrected by the deceased’s own professional comrade.
He raised his right hand to signify that he wanted to chip in a point of order as the resident pastor spoke of how exemplary the dead man’s ways were. When no one bothered to give him the chance, he stood up and raised both hands, meaning that he had the constitutional right to slot in a rejoinder before the lies became over-whelming.
He was heavily drunk. Asked what he wanted to say, he broached the subject that first and fore-most, he would recommend that the pastor be ex-communicated from the church because he was a congenital liar, a quality unbecoming of a clergyman. He then proceeded to say the deceased was a criminal just like himself and deserved no praises in any church.
He intimated that the deceased, when he was alive, cheated him out of a booty, not once or twice, but many times, for which he never forgave him till he died. He said such a person’s body should not be brought to contaminate the holiness of a church room. Before church elders could drag him out, he had spoken his mind.
I guess if the dead man had a soul that was present where he was laid in state, the soul would have repented right in the church room.
Well there are many problems associated with modern-day funerals. One of them which is getting solved gradually is the wake-keeping palaver. The Akyem Abuakwa Traditional Council has banned wake-keepings as a means of cutting down cost of funerals in the traditional area. The Presbyterian Church is also not encouraging its members to opt for wake- keeping in any event of death of a member.
What are wake-keepings for anyway? When there were no mortuaries in the past, wake was kept because family members could not leave their dead bodies and go to bed. Keeping wake has, therefore, outlived its usefulness in present day circumstances.
A wake-keeping today is an occasion where you can get a married woman drunk and seduce her, where young girls elope with married men for amorous purposes, and where people either get married or lose their spouses. Everything is under the cover of darkness, supervised by Jimmy Satan.
A funeral that is without an elaborate wake-keeping can save at least a lot of money. A funeral that is without frivolous eating and boozing can also save a fortune. The dead must not be a burden for the living, just like getting married shouldn’t be any big deal.
The average Sikaman bride is married at least three times without any sane reason. Her Caucasian or Anglo-Saxon counterpart gets married just once in a very simply ceremony.
Why are many young men unable to marry? The fact is that they can’t. They don’t have the dough. They must KNOCK DOOR, ENGAGE and WED-three in one. By the time they are through, they are in debt to a tune of 5 million. No marriage is stable when the foundation is built on a $5 million debt.
I guess my great grandfather married his loving wife with two bottles of akpeteshie, five tubers of yam and a bottle of zomi. Check out how much I have to spend when I want wife. You can’t get a woman with akpeteshie, yam tubers and palm oil anywhere in Sikaman today. Even in the remotest cottage, they ask you to “do wedding”. It is a command, not a suggestion.
The result is that the young men can’t get married, and once they are virile and not impotent, they continue impregnating the young and unmarried girls, littering communities with kids born out of wedlock, many ending up as the street kids we see everywhere hawking barefoot instead of studying in school.
This article was first published
on Saturday, April 18, 1998
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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