Features
The family budget
Every family has a Finance Minister. Such a minister is normally the head of the house, in other words the Executive President.
One of the characteristics of the finance minister is that he has a moustache with or without a ‘goatee.’
The moustache is usually twitched to frighten undisciplined children and the ‘goatee’ is used to terrify the wife. In fact the ‘goatee’ always reminds the wife of a he-goat and its gimmicks and antics. After painstaking research, my bosom friend Kokotako has come out with the conclusion that men with ‘goatee’ are more sexually appealing to women.
The Sikaman family life is an interesting one in that nothing is done according to the 1992 Constitution. The Finance Minister of the home is not supposed to present the family budget to the wife and children who are the family equivalent of the national Parliament.
He decides what the chop money must be, whether the wife must perm or jerry the hair, whether the kids must eat oats and milk for breakfast or zorzor, alias ‘yorke gari’ alias ‘yorks’. In effect, there is nothing like democracy much more the Westminister variation of it.
In extreme cases where the husband has the credentials of Adolf Hitler, he assumes kitchen-power and fetches the soup during supper. He sits behind the soup with a pot-belly and unilaterally decides who should get what size of meat and what level of soup.
Almost invariably, there is military discipline in the family such that the wife can only sneeze on Sundays and public holidays. Every minute, the man growls like a tiger while opening and closing his eyes like a maniac. All these are reinforced by a bottle of peters (bitters) in an obscured corner, often under the bed which is refilled every three hours.
“Kwadwo, run like a hare to Davi’s place and top my bitters before I somersault. In fact, if you don’t run like Ben Johnson under the influence of steroids, I’ll break your neck. Remember, I have to take three tots before caning you for not fetching water yesterday.”
Yes, Akpeteshie also gives appetite for fathers. Taking some tots, they start thinking where to seek political asylum because as a Lagosian would say, ‘Trouble don come for house.’
When I was in Class Six, our teacher once told us that in the developed countries families were often very concerned about the management of their homes and so man and wife often held weekly, fortnightly or monthly meetings to draw the family budget.
This is made possible by a joint account. The family’s needs from soap and cigarettes to blue jeans and holiday trips are budgeted for. That way things are done in an orderly manner and there is no case of over- spending, under-spending or ‘chobo’.
Perhaps, this is the ideal thing to do in Sikaman, but here there are obvious problems. First, the family’s income is often inadequate because of many factors including the man’s appetite. Secondly, there is a concealment of income on both sides.
The husband will declare ¢40,000 when his take-home pay is ¢60,000, meaning the extra will be used to finance personal habits and the needs of girlfriends.
The wife will also under-declare what she makes each day at the market for fear that her husband would force her to contribute to the upkeep of the home. So when she says she made only 4,000, she is in fact asking you to multiply it by 2/½ to get the correct figure. So in fact she made 9,000. It’s quite funny and you’ll have to be well-versed in JSS Mathematics to cope with her pace.
Because of all these, it is impossible for husband and wife to sit at table to draw the family budget. This is one of the reasons why some churches demand that prospective brides and grooms attend marriage counselling school for at least six months before being allowed to marry.
In the marriage school, they are taught home management and how to arouse sexual feelings in their mates. The man is cautioned on the dangers of drinking raw akpeteshie and the sins of chasing women like a bearded he-goat. “Don’t also beat your wife. God doesn’t like that.”
The woman is advised not to talk too much ‘rubbish’, not to have too many friends and taught how to please a man’s heart by pleasing his stomach with good food. She is warned not to converse with other men on frivolous topics that might lead to sexy topics etc.
Normally such lectures are helpful, but it turns out that the couples are only prepared to adhere to only 10 percent of what they are taught. Ninety percent of what they learn are impracticable, so the marriage school is only considered as a waste of time.
Well, my former classmate Kwame Korkorti, the born-mathematician, has long detected that since money palaver is the cause of many shattered marriages, couples need to be more transparent, communicative and co-operative in solving their financial problems.
Observation has shown that marriages break more often not because of the lack of money per se, but because of the mistrust on both sides as far as money matters are concerned. It might be that the man really has no money but the woman feels he has and is using it to chase other women, etc.
It all boils down to honesty, sincerity, goodwill, understanding and a desire to make the marriage work with or without money palaver. Let’s not make money the basis of a successful marriage.
Wishing all readers and fans of Sikaman Palava a nice week-end.
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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