Quaffing beer in another

Joseph Kwame Korkorti start­ed hating imposters the day a set of beautiful identical twin dames began playing pseudo-love and dangerous financial games with him. He had met one of the dazzling chocolate-coloured twins and wasted no time in proposing love to her. She was not interested.

The next time Korkorti met the broad, he thought she was an angel. Her face shown of a certain bright-ness and Korkorti’s heart melted. Oh, what celestial beauty! What glory on a human face! Should he sing in her honour or pour forth his love in poetic stanza?

He approached her and they had a chat and Korkorti thought he was in truly heaven. “I love you, I adore you,” he heard himself confessing again. The coy little angel with melting eyes was touched by Korkor­ti’s show of love and affection. She agreed to the proposal this time. Korkorti never knew it was the other twin.

However, it was not long before he realised he was dealing with two different angels. Unable to tell which his true lover was, both start­ed playing games with him now, one impersonating the other sometimes. When he thought he was giving a gift to his lover, the recipient turned out to be the one who rejected his love. He just couldn’t differentiate between the two. What confusion!

Korkorti thought over the mat­ter for some time and decided he was not born with foolishness in his bones. Moreover he was not the kind of guy who washes his face upwards every morning! He called it quits.

When Korkorti told me about it I was sorry for him. At the time, he was only a little teenager and had little experience in matters of the heart. If it were today, it would have been a different palaver. He would have seduced both of them, said a big thank you, and ran away to take financial cover.

I have always wished that the twins had rather encountered my good friend Lama. The Lama today is an international businessman with the kind of acumen and oratorical ge­nius any politician would envy. I see him as a political philosopher, a man of deeper thoughts. Some see him as a realist, others as an idealist. At best he is both, at worst he is none.

He has several university degrees and diplomas hanging all over him. In those days when we were young, he was a delight of the ladies and the twins would certainly have been in for what they never dreamt of.

Well, impersonating in Sikaman or elsewhere has turned out not to be too difficult. White people coming to Africa for the first time see all blacks as having the same kind of face the same broad forehead, thick lips, and powerful nose, whatever.

So you can show your uncle’s pass­port to a white immigration officer and he’d immediately see your face in the picture. Even when you alert him to the fact that your nose is broader than the one in the picture, he’d pat you on the shoulder, “Sonny, that’s your nose alright. The dimen­sion is clean. It couldn’t be wider. Have a nice stay in the US.”

It is the same way blacks see whites and the yellow-skinned. I per­sonally find it extremely difficult to distinguish one Korean from another or even a Korean from a Chinese. They have the same style of walking, dancing, snoring, etc.

FULL-TIME

Impersonation has become a full time job for some people in Sikaman. That is how they live, feed their fam­ilies, pay bills and even sponsor the beauty of their girlfriends.

Not all who go around claiming they are Castle officials have ever seen even the Castle gate before. But they have very beautiful Castle ID cards, several forged documents that are properly stamped and they have the kind of tongue that can de­ceive even the devil. Fraud is their speciality.

I wasn’t surprised to learn that even ladies are in the con business so soon after Beijing. One is seri­ously presenting herself as having connections with the First Lady’s and living fat on it.

I have always said that ladies can be better con artists and impostors because no one really equates a woman with lies especially in mat­ters bordering on fraud. She may not even need an ID card. She’d only have to say she is the special assistant to the First Lady and she is believed just because she is well-dressed and smiles like the First Lady.

As for the President, people have used his name to over-feed them­selves. Sometimes they only have to recount falsely how they were J.J’s playmate and how their friendship has developed to the extent that the President has made them Special Castle agents. They’ve never met the President anywhere, anyway.

“J.J. doesn’t play with me at all,” they’d swear. “Even today today, I eat with him from the same plate. I do very special jobs for him. I even shape his moustache for him. Bring ¢600,000 and I’ll solve your problem for you. Add $50,000 for transportation and incidentals.” You’ve been duped clean.

Impersonation is not only at the highest level of the social or political ladder. Midway, you can experience it and often crooks have impersonated journalists.

Sometime past, someone went around the capital claiming to be the writer of the evergreen Baafuor column of the Weekly Spectator. People were buying him beer left and right and his stomach turned out to be a living brewery.

It was not long before he was found out by his benefactors. And he was given the kind of slap that prob­ably made him feel dizzy for two weeks. Next time he thinks about beer and Baafuor, he’d remember he once felt dizzy non-stop for a fort­night.

I was in the office one Monday when I had a call.

“Yes, Merari, speaking.”

“Merari, thanks very much. I re­ceived the papers.”

“What papers?”

“The newspapers you sent this morning. I liked the story.”

“I am not getting you, sir,” I said.” I never sent you any paper this morning.”

“Perhaps, you’ve forgotten. A certain man came and said Mera­ri Alomele asked him to send the papers to me. I gave him $2,000 for transport.”

“Then you’ve mean conned,” I told him laughing.

On three other occasions I re­ceived similar calls. I don’t know whether people are also drinking beer in my name. But the day I get someone quaffing in my name, I believe the slap would be quite terrific. The person would have to go in for tetanus injection to abate the effect.

This article was first published on Saturday, August 24, 1996