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.
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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