Features
Of predictions and a happy new year
For Fifty-two weeks, my pen has been dancing. Precisely, for 3,654 days, my pen has been on its toes doing one jig after the other, keeping this column warm and smiling. My pen, however, developed flat-foot when I was commissioned to cover the National Debate in late August and early September. After three weeks, this column boomed back to life with WOES OF A SIKAMAN JOURNALIST.
And who says journalists in the territory of gold do not have woes? If they are not married before 1991, they can no longer marry. None of the male journalists can afford an engagement ring if he relies solely on his pay. Anyhow, it would be a disaster to remain a bachelor. Remember MARRIAGE PALAVER of MAY 26. ? I wrote:
“Before my friend Kofi Kokotako became a married man, he was an eligible bachelor in his own case. He had gone to the bank clutching his briefcase to withdraw some money. To open the briefcase now in the full glare of fellow citizens of Sikaman would amount to revealing his marital status without being asked to.
“Not to reveal contents, he opened it slightly and poked his fingers into the upper compartment to retrieve that hell of a cheque-book. He was furious at it, and in this fit of anger, coupled with a little awkwardness, the entire briefcase lost balance and over-turned. Lo and behold, disaster had struck Kokotako.
“……Scattered far and wide were palmnuts (about one olonka in quantity), plantain, cassava, pepper, tomato, fish… and four crabs that sought instant refuge from their predicament.
The crabs now sped in different directions to seek political asylum in the nearest territory. They had nearly gone out of breath in the tight briefcase… Kototako (a bachelor) had wanted to prepare palmnut soup that would last him some three days.
Such an incident is likely to happen to a bachelor journalist in 1991 if steps are not taken to do something about their income. I also have another prediction for 1991.
Most Guinness and beer drinkers will shift compulsorily to become faithful patrons of local bitters –“peters.” The mahogany brand which is reputed as best for kooko and waist-pains will become the favourite of high class executives whose sedentary jobs and lack of exercise make them develop locked waist. It is far cheaper too.
This reminds me of ALCOHOL ADDICTION &THE X’MAS COMATOSE.
“To go the local-gin way is quite understandable …the alcoholic economy of equivalents shows that the alcoholic horsepower of GH¢40 of akpeteshie (raw) is equal to that of the one bottle of beer which costs GH¢240.”
Mind you, it is 320 in some bars today. 1991 one is the year for lotto-stakers.
They will see the kingdom of money. I had a dream on this, and the dream was entitled LOTTO PALAVER:
“Ever since this episode, Korkorti has become a lotto addict, a lotto forecaster, a lotto magician, editor in-chief of a lotto paper and chairman of the Sikaman
Lotto Winners Association (SLWA), I hear there is also an association called the Sikaman Lotto Losers Association (SLLA).”
I predict that many journalists would join one of these associations in a desperate bid to increase their incomes.
The incidence of rape will not decline in 1991 because punishment for rapists are still not deterrent enough. In PUNISHMENT FOR A RAPIST, it could be read:
“.A castrated rapist is no danger to organised society. Fact is that he can bark but he cannot bite. Even a strip-tease dancer can no longer arouse him. And sooner or later, he would become so fat and oily that he’d be more famous as a superheavyweight than as a dreaded rapist… l am against castration, though.”
The West African Examinations Council (WAEC) will take drastic steps in 1991 to stall the incidence of LEAKAGES AND ACADEMIC DYSENTERY.
“Dear Sir, this very paper you are marking is under massive leakage, and I know that people are going to blow it paaa. But as for me, although I also had all the questions, I am as daft as a live sheep. My father has no brains whatever in his big head. As for my mother, the least said about her, the better. And as you know that a dog does not beget a cat, I was born an idiot.
“So when I got the questions, I didn’t know what to do with them. Will you please therefore consider and pass me too. Otherwise, I alone will die of academic dysentery. Thanks for your usual cooperation. Yours faithfully…”
Dear reader, what do I have for FASHION CRAZE IN SIKAMAN for next year:
“If by the year 2,000, you enter into an office of a managing director, and you see a bearded man complete with thick moustache dressed in kaba and slit, don’t be shocked. He is still a mister. His only problem is that he is abreast with the times.”
Partly due to the ‘GOLF’ crisis and its attendant worsening of national economies, the incidence of corruption in Sikaman is going to escalate dramatically and many will be brought to book. THE CORRUPTION SAGA offered the following:
“The spotlight of criticism is so much centred on the police that the corrupt practices of doctors, teachers, civil servants, customs officials etc. are never known.”
Indeed, in 1991, the lid over the corruption soup pot is going to be lifted and the contents revealed to the general public. Keep abreast with press reports. There will be an attempt to ease the housing problems in Sikaman. Landlords, as a result, will become more liberal with the rules and regulations as said in HOUSING IN SIKAMAN:
“Second set of rules and regulations. Thou shall not cook koobi or momoni in the house, because I (the landlord), am allergic to such unholy smell; no singing in the housing when the landlord is enjoying his siesta, no tenant must laugh like a rich man; you are allowed to sneeze only on Sundays and public holidays.”
Incidentally, I am in need of accommodation (not less than two large rooms) and would welcome an offer in Accra, where the advance payment would not be above sea level.
Confidence tricksters, are likely to triple in number, regarding their profession as a lucrative alternative to armed-robber which attracts the death-penalty. However, burglaries will not die out as CRIMINALS AND GULLIBLE NATIVES meet face to face:
“However, as the thief nearly gets to the top, the man takes courage and with all his might, pushes the ladder off his window. The criminal lands on his back, and barks like a dog although he is a perfect human being.”
“But he is also professional. He quickly wakes up from the tragedy, wipes the sand off his face and hair, carries the ladder over his broad shoulders and trots dizzily away to plan another strategy.”
THE DAWN PREACHERS are going to increase in number as the aluta on satan continues unabated. But, “… the preachers must realise that preaching against fornication alone will not help stop the spread of AlDS for instance because people are always going to mate anyway. So, after preaching against fornication, the preachers must go on to educate their hearers on the deadliness of the AIDS, how it is spread and what precautionary measures to take.”
My name is still a mystery to readers. The pronunciation especially. Many think I am either a Zimbabwean, Namibian, Tanzanian, or Rwandan. Some say I’m a refugee journalist. So very amusing.
On June 17, 1989, THE NAME UNDER SIEGE appeared in the “Spectator”.
I went to a clinic sometime back and a nurse came to mention names so that we could form a queue before seeing the doctor. She hesitated so much over my name. For good three minutes, she tried and failed; she frowned, coughed, fidgeted and nearly passed wind before she managed to croak; Mary Lomotey.”
“… I went to collect drugs from the dispensary. A Hausa man was the chairman of the department. He looked at the name and nearly collapsed when he ventured mentioning it. “Ferari Alomeli,” he fumbled out terribly. I immediately wondered whether he was suffering from river-blindness.
“Haven’t you gone for treatment,” I asked him smiling.
“What treatment?” he retorted, rather perplexed. “For river blindness.”
“What are you talking about,” he asked quite
angrily.
You’re seeing Merari and you’re calling it Ferari.
Ferari is a name of a car, so l thought you were a victim of river-blindness.”
You’re a fool to tell me that,” he yelled at me. Till this day, ALOMELE IS still pronounced by some people “LIMELIGHT” but I’m not quite bothered. What I’m bothered about is the financial mourning that took place during X’mas, and what most people are going to face in January.
And till then I wish all lovers of my column a happy and prosperous New Year.
This article was first published on Saturday, December 29, 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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