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
Attention-Deficit or Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is often mistaken for laziness or indiscipline. In consulting rooms across Accra and in reports from school teachers, the pattern repeats: children who are bright but forgetful, parents who feel helpless, teachers who see incompleteness.
Research is clear-Barkley (2015) and others describe ADHD as a difference in the brain’s regulation of alertness, impulse and working memory, not a lack of effort.
The family’s role begins with structure. Regular sleep, predictable meal and homework times, and a simple visual list (uniform → books → water → corridor) provide the external scaffolding of these children need. Praise what is completed—“You opened the book and wrote the first sentence”-instead of rebuking what is missing.
Schools can help by seating the child front-row and centre, giving short written plus verbal instructions, allowing brief movement breaks, using quiet nonverbal cues and, where possible, grading effort and method as well as neatness. These adjustments reduce conflict and raise submission rates without lowering standards.
Couples and caregivers should share roles: one grounds, one pivots, and both protect rest. Shame-“bad parenting, bad child”-needs replacing with fact: different wiring, needs scaffolding.
Outcomes improve not by promises of perfection but by daily routines, clear limits and warmed connection. One homework slot kept, one instruction chunked, one calm repair after blurting-these small wins shift the family climate and let the child be seen beyond the label.
Resource
• CPAC (award-winning Mental Health and Counselling Facility): 0559850604 / 0551428486
Source: REV. COUNSELLOR PRINCE OFFEI’s insights on special needs support, relationships, and mental health in Ghana. He is a leading mental health professional, lecturer, ADR Expert/Arbitrator, renowned author, and marriage counsellor at COUNSELLOR PRINCE & ASSOCIATES CONSULT (CPAC COUNSELLOR TRAINING INSTITUTE) – 0551428486 /0559850604.
WEBSITES:
https://princeoffei22.wixsite.com/author
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After two weeks of hectic activity up north, I drove to the Tamale airport, parked the car at the Civil Aviation car park as usual, paid the usual parking fee and boarded the plane for Accra.
Over the last two weeks, I had shuffled between three sites where work was close to completion.
One was a seed warehouse, where farmers would come and pick up good quality maize, sorghum and other planting material.
The other was a health facility for new mothers, where they were given basic training on good nutrition and small scale business.
And the third was a set of big boreholes for three farming communities.
The projects usually ran on schedule, but a good deal of time was spent building rapport with the local people, to ensure that they would be well patronised and maintained.
It was great to be working in a situation where one’s work was well appreciated. But it certainly involved a lot of work, and proactivity. And I made sure that I recorded updates online before going to bed in the evening.
When the plane took off, my mind shifted to issues in Accra, the big city. The young guys at my office had done some good work. They had secured five or six houses on a row in a good part of the city, and were close to securing the last.
When we got this property, unusually, Abena greeted them casually, and appeared to be comfortable in the guy’s company.
I was quite disappointed to hear that, because until the last few weeks, it seemed as if Abena and I were heading in a good direction. Apart from the affection I had for her, I liked her family. I decided to take it easy, and allow things to fall in whatever direction.
Normally I would take a taxi to her house from the airport, and pick her up to my place. This time I went to my sisters’ joint, where they sat by me while I enjoyed a drink and a good meal.
“So Little Brother,” Sister Beesiwa said, “what is it we are hearing about our wife-to-be?”
“When did you conclude that she was your wife-to-be? And what have you heard? I’ve only heard a couple of whispers. Ebo and Nana Kwame called to say that they have seen her in the company of—”
“Well said Little Brother,” Sister Baaba said. “By the way, Nana Kwame called an hour ago to ask if you had arrived because he could not reach you. Someone had told him that Jennifer had boasted to someone that she had connected Abena to a wealthy guy who would take care of her.”
I was beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.
“In that case,” Sister Beesiwa said, “you should be glad that Abena is out of your way. She is easily swayed. Anyone who would make a relationship decision based on a friend’s instigation lacks good sense. I hope the guy is as wealthy as they say?”
“Who gets wealthy running a supermarket chain in Ghana?” Sister Baaba said. “Our supermarkets sell mostly imported products. Look at the foreign exchange rate. And remember that Ghanaians buy second-hand shoes and clothes. Supermarkets are not good business here. Perhaps they are showing off that they are wealthy, but in reality they are not doing so well.”
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. So I think Jennifer fed her with false stories about me in order to get her to move to the Ampadu guy. Jennifer must have been well compensated for her efforts.”
She said that David Forson was only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her. And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“Amen to that,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand. For some time, Abena had been asking me what work I was doing up north, and after I had explained it to her, she kept asking. We would be able to sell all five houses to one big corporate customer, and we had already spoken to a property dealer who was trying to find a buyer in order to get a good commission.
That was going to be my biggest break. I had asked the boys to look for a large tract of land on the outskirts of the city where we could develop our own set of buildings, blocks of storey houses and upscale apartments. Things were going according to plan, and I was quietly excited. However, things were not going so well regarding my relationship with Abena.
My buddies Ebo and Nana Kwame had called to say that they met Abena and her friend Jennifer enjoying lunch with a guy, and Ebo believed that Jennifer was ‘promoting’ an affair between Jennifer and the guy. They were of the view that the promotion seemed to be going in the guy’s favour, because only an agricultural extension worker in the north who did not have the resources to take care of a beautiful girl like her.
And apart from being wealthy, the guy comes from an influential family, so Abena had done much better leaving a miserable civil servant like you for him.
“As I’ve already said, I will stop by her place, but I will mind my own business from now. Hey, let’s talk family. How are our parents? And my brothers-in-law? And my nephews and nieces? Why don’t we meet on Sunday? I’m going to drop my bags at my place, and go to see Mama and Dad.”
