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The Prophet part 6
Mary picked up the phone after it had rung the fifth time. It was Suzzie.
“Are you still sleeping, Mary? I told you we should be at his place before five.”
“I’m ready. I was in Betty’s room.”
“I hope she wasn’t preaching another long sermon. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“It was very short, but one that we need to discuss. I’m waiting for you.”
Within some 30 minutes they had approached Antubam’s compound.
“Now,” Suzzie said, “you don’t have to say anything if you are confused. Just leave the talking to me. We need to make as much money as possible from this thief in the next few days, and leave. I’m sure he will buy all the suggestions, and give us the money. We should make good profit from these transactions, trust me.”
They entered the compound, just as Antubam was leading Abena Grace out of his room.
“Good morning, Osofo,” Mary said.
‘Hello, my beautiful ladies. I hope you are well, and I hope everything is okay.”
“Everything is fine, Osofo.”
“Please give me just a few minutes’. He led Abena Grace to the street, and was there for over 20 minutes to get back, obviously due to the difficulty of getting a taxi for her.”
“Osofo,” Suzzie began, we would like to make some suggestions about things that need to be done, since the church is now growing impressively. We have listed a few things, and we would like you to consider them in order of priority.”
“I am so grateful to you, Suzzie and Mary, for your support. I really appreciate your help in securing the bank account, and your honesty. My only worry is that even though you are supposed to be my wives, you are yet to fulfill your duties in the most important department. I hope you are not feeling jealous because of those, er, ladies.”
“Of course not, Osofo. We accept the fact that the demands of your work are very heavy, and you need something to relax your mind and body. Please be assured that when we get everything fully established, we will take very good care of you, especially when we travel with you to preach on radio stations in Accra, Kumasi and Takoradi.”
“That sounds very interesting. Now, let me hear your ideas, especially about the radio stations.”
“Osofo, your church is expanding at a fast rate, and you need to move into a decent house all by yourself, which is comfortable and spacious enough for your status, and for the kind of visitors you will soon be entertaining. And of course, we must furnish the house.
We must also, as a temporary measure, buy some decent chairs for the church, and make some temporary structures to make the place look attractive. And Osofo, you must buy a car in the next few weeks. Apart from your new status, you will be travelling widely soon, and you must…….” All these sounded like music in his ears.
“Thank, you, Suzzie, thank you so much. You know, I have thought of all these, but quite frankly, there simply is no time. Why don’t you make a list of these items, and get some prices, so that we get them done as quickly as possible. And let’s start work on them today. If we make some money available every day or two, we should get them done in good time,”
“We have done, exactly that, Osofo. Here you are.”
“Great. Look, I’ll leave this with you. I already trust you for the way you have started running things. Let’s start after church today, shall we?”
“Okay, Osofo. We’ll do some cleaning and cooking whilst you get ready for church.”
“Thank you ladies. And I am looking forward to spending enjoyable evenings with you.”
“We are also looking forward to it, man of God.”
“Now,” Suzzie said after Antubam had gone to the bathroom, “let’s clean the place and cook something for this dirty thief who thinks we will ever allow him to touch us.”
“You obviously dislike him,” Mary said, but you like his money.”
“We are only charging him unofficially for our services. Our charges are high because he himself is a thief. And of course, very soon we will be leaving, so our charges have to be high. By the time we finish these assignments, Mary, we will be comfortable.”
The service followed the same pattern as previous days. There were many testimonies of financial and health miracles, and after preaching another short sermon, Antubam sat down for consultations.
Whilst he gave ‘directions’ to his clients, Mary and Suzzie counted the money. In the course of consultations, he selected two attractive ladies to go the ‘mission house’ with him. After the last client had left, he came to meet the two ladies, all smiles.
“You will be pleased to hear, my beautiful ladies that two ladies who came for directions before travelling to Europe have sent someone to give thanks for the success of their business, and have given an offering of ten thousand dollars, so we can make a good start with our plans straightaway. So I want you to change this and get going.”
“That’s great, Osofo. We’ll do that. Today’s offerings came to four thousand cedis. We’ll pay that into the account.”
“There’s another four thousand cedis here. Please add that.”
“Okay, Osofo. We’ll call you and give you some feedback.”
“I’ll be expecting your call. Take GH¢100 for lunch and transport.”
“Suzzie,” Mary asked as they left the church, ‘what kind of business are those two ladies doing, which has been so profitable that within two days of landing in Europe, they have brought an offering of GH¢2,000?”
“Do you need me to tell you? We shouldn’t hang around this Antubam man for long, Mary.”
By the close of day the two friends had concluded arrangements with a landlord, and furniture and home appliances supplier. They had also made part payment for a smart ‘home secondhand’ saloon car.
Finally, they had called and concluded arrangements for an initial two-week, early morning broadcast on Echo FM. For their efforts, they had put away a cool five thousand cedis for themselves. The car dealer drove them to Antubam’s place, and Suzzie knocked on his door. He came out after some20 minutes, and, seeing the car, almost collapsed with joy. The ladies gave him the other news.
“Osofo,” Suzzie reminded him, “we will make arrangements for the chairs and other stuff for the church in the next couple of days, if funds are available.
All that is left for now is an outstanding amount of GH¢4,500 to be given to the dealer here, Mr Amoako. He has agreed that we make payment in two weeks.”
“Wait a minute!” he roared. “I think I can get it now.” He went in and came back with the amount.”
“Okay then, Osofo. We’ll see you at church as usual.”
“Okay, my beautiful ladies. Remind me to make some money available for the church fittings. And as for this weekend, we must spend some enjoyable time together, especially as we now have a car at our disposal.”
“We’ll be looking forward to it.”
By Ekow de Heer
All over the world, it has been recognised that nations who have developed, paid attention to education and continue to do so. If we pay lip service to the development of our educational system, we might as well forget about our development in the foreseeable future.
In order for effective teaching and learning to happen, the teacher who is the centre of it all, must be well motivated. Every person working in an office, every parliamentarian, every minister or deputy minister, all the way up to the first gentleman of the land, owes his or her status to a teacher.
Unfortunately, for some strange reason, our leaders who are the decision makers, do not seem to care very much about the welfare of teachers. The leadership of the various teacher unions, also appear not to be doing their job as is expected of them, leaving the teacher who had worked for over a year without being paid, frustrated.
The lack of seriousness that is attached to teachers’ issues is very worrying. My parents were teachers so I am very passionate about teachers’ issues. Gone are the days that we used to say that teachers will get their reward in Heaven.
Now those in the teaching profession are mostly youthful and they have a different mindset from that of our parents. They do not want their reward in Heaven, they want it here on this very earth.
A teacher sees his colleague who he was academically better than in school, from the same background socially, becomes a Municipal Chief Executive (MCE), an Member of Parliament (MP) or a Government Appointee and overnight, this guy becomes wealthy and you say he the teacher, should wait for his reward in Heaven?
His going there is not guaranteed anyway, so if he or she does not make it to Heaven, then what? Promises of government after government to teachers, remain unfulfilled and so they become disillusioned and demotivated to ensure effective teaching and learning.
I read a story of a lady, who as a child was suffering from Dyslexia but her teacher gave her the needed attention to help her and this even led her teacher to run into problems with the school authorities, resulting in the loss of her job. This lady grew up and became a famous actress and won an Oscar.
She then gave the prize money attached to the award, which was three million dollars, to her teacher who put her career on the line to help her out of her dyslexia challenge as a child.
There are many such teachers in our educational system because teaching is a calling, like medicine, like nursing etc. and therefore teachers who are the first point of call before we can climb the ladder to become the engineers, the lawyers, accountants and the rest, deserve special attention.
What is even important is the crucial role they play in shaping the moral character of future leaders which is invaluable.
Let us all, especially our leaders, place a high premium on the teacher who is at the centre of our educational system and who can make or unmake our future as a nation. How do you ask a teacher to go to a place, far removed from his or her parents and for a year and above not pay any salary to him or her?
How is the teacher to survive? If the same thing was done to any of our leaders, especially the leaders of the various teacher unions, will they be happy? How do they expect the teachers to survive and also be motivated to deliver quality teaching? Funds must be found to immediately resolve their unpaid salaries do they can be in the right frame of mind to do their very precious job. The teaching profession, in my view, is number one, when ranking professions because as an advert displays “If you can read this, thank a teacher”. Let us give our teachers their due. God bless.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
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GREETINGS from Korkorti and from Kofi Owuo, alias Death-By-Poverty. When this column took a short break, the two friends summoned me. They wanted to know whether the column had gone on pension or was just on strike. I explained that the column was not on retirement and neither was it on a hunger strike. Rather, the column was of the habit of falling into coma for four weeks or thereabout every year.
Kwame Korkorti and Kofi Owuo (who is addicted to poverty and has sworn not to prosper) are two of my former classmates I cherish so much. And it was great fun to be a Nino in those days. In fact, on the first day on campus, Korkorti was bold enough to bully his own mates who tragically mistook him for a senior.
In fact, when the first-years arrived, Korkorti was one of them but quickly pretended he was in Form 2. So he began pulling the noses of his mates and brushing their faces when the real seniors were not quite in sight. It was when classes began that his victims realised the so-called nose-pulling senior was in fact their own classmate.
So Korkorti got famous for that gimmick. But his English was poor.
The English master was a tall, bombastic young man who claimed he was a former soccer star. In fact, he swore he had a magical left foot that was comparable to that of the legendary Pele. And his grandiloquence par excellence clearly distinguished him from other members of staff.
He did not quite like Korkorti because although the boy was stubborn and his head did not have a nice shape, the girls adored him. Moreover he never did his English Language assignments.
Stand up, you tall fool, the English master often ordered. Korkorti wouldn’t stand up but would just smile broadly.
“I say stand up” the teacher would bark now like a dog suffering from rabies “Get up and let me measure your stupidity.”
Korkorti would stand up this time round and yawn.
Certainly, lunchtime has been long in coming and a good yawn often relieved the young student’s stomach of gastronomic stress.
Invariably, the English guru did not like it when Korkorti yawned. For one thing, the boy opened his mouth too widely. For another, he yawned a bit too audibly and that caused laughter among his mates.
Certainly, the master must have figured out that the boy’s height was proportional to his stupidity. But there were no school rules against yawning
Merari Alomele’s
• A female student walking away from some male students
or wide mouth. In fact, there was freedom of yawning and snoring and Korkorti exercised both freedoms judiciously and democratically.
“Do you know when you yawn you look like a hungry crocodile,” the master once asked him.
“Yes sir, I am aware sir,” Korkorti confirmed and yawned again. This time he nearly swallowed the whole class. There was an uproar and the whole class reverberated in good laughter.
The English master shook his head and then nodded it like an agama lizard. This Korkorti boy was a real character, a phenomenon, a one-man thousand. Meanwhile lessons had to continue.
It was in those days when school was exciting and we often gathered and talked about girls. I had often dreamt of having a girl from Holy Child School because I had heard very saintly and curious things about them, I had learnt from a guy from Saint Augustine’s College that Holy Child girls were of a special breed, in fact a hybrid between the cultured home-bred variety and those of inner holiness. They were born of the Holy Spirit. The only thing was that they didn’t suffer under Pontius Pilate.
In short, they were angels in human form, spoke in a special way, walked with a unique and danced with heavenly steps. They were taught by Holy Nuns and so were quite different from us who had no hope of making any spirito-culturo-scholastic progress.
I confessed to Korkorti that I wanted a girl from Holy Child, not for immoral purposes but to partake of their saintly ways so that when it was time for going to heaven, Kwame Alomele could also be considered.
During vacations we met girls from Mawuli, Ola, Accra Girls, St. Roses, Wesley Girls but none from Holy Child. Then one day, Kwame Korkorti whispered into my ear that a Holy Child babe was in town and that he was sure my dreams had come true.
Korkorti organised it and we positioned at a spot, knowing the girl would traverse en route to the library or the market. After a boring period of waiting, Korkorti suddenly espied the child coming. I looked at her face and saw of an angel. What! This was the kind I always wanted. God bless my soul! This was really my chance and Korkorti had prophesied it.
“Hello Sister,” Korkorti called her when about to leave us.
The girl slowed down and looked at us. My heartbeat increased in tempo. What really was I going to tell this angel? Wouldn’t she think Korkorti was Satan and me a common red-eyed demon? I gathered courage.
“What do you want?” she asked in a sweet voice. My heart melted instantly. Spotless beauty with voice that did something to me. Good gracious!
“Eh-h, my friend says he likes you,” Korkorti to her bluntly.
At that very moment I felt as if a sledge-hammer had hit my chest with the force of a dynamite. What a blunder! What a shock! I felt dizzy instantly. My bosom friend had balked the whole agenda. Before I could recover from the shock, the girl had walked away. From that day. I never met another holy child.
In January, this year, I miraculously received a letter from an 18-year old Holy Child student who said she was my fan.
It was a nicely written letter and I enjoyed reading it. I then relived the Korkorti incident and laughed aloud to myself.
So when Korkorti and Kofi Owuo summoned me, I reminded them of the day my heart melted at the sight of the angel; that angel which disappeared before my eyes and made me go back home not crying and yet not laughing.
Proofread
Searching for the Holy Child
GREETINGS from Korkorti and from Kofi Owuo, alias Death-By-Poverty. When this column took a short break, the two friends summoned me. They wanted to know whether the column had gone on pension or was just on strike.
I explained that the column was not on retirement and neither was it on a hunger strike. Rather, the column was of the habit of falling into coma for four weeks or thereabout every year.
Kwame Korkorti and Kofi Owuo (who is addicted to poverty and has sworn not to prosper) are two of my former classmates I cherish so much. And it was great fun to be a Nino in those days. In fact, on the first day on campus, Korkorti was bold enough to bully his own mates who tragically mistook him for a senior.
In fact, when the first-years arrived, Korkorti was one of them but quickly pretended he was in Form 2. So he began pulling the noses of his mates and brushing their faces when the real seniors were not quite in sight. It was when classes began that his victims realised the so-called nose-pulling senior was in fact their own classmate
So Korkorti got famous for that gimmick. But his English was poor.
The English master was a tall, bombastic young man who claimed he was a former soccer star. In fact, he swore he had a magical left foot that was comparable to that of the legendary Pele. And his grandiloquence par excellence clearly distinguished him from other members of staff.
He did not quite like Korkorti because although the boy was stubborn and his head did not have a nice shape, the girls adored him. Moreover he never did his English Language assignments.
Stand up, you tall fool, the English master often ordered. Korkorti wouldn’t stand up but would just smile broadly.
“I say stand up” the teacher would bark now like a dog suffering from rabies “Get up and let me measure your stupidity.”
Korkorti would stand up this time round and yawn.
Certainly, lunchtime has been long in coming and a good yawn often relieved the young student’s stomach of gastronomic stress.
Invariably, the English guru did not like it when Korkorti yawned. For one thing, the boy opened his mouth too widely. For another, he yawned a bit too audibly and that caused laughter among his mates.
Certainly, the master must have figured out that the boy’s height was proportional to his stupidity. But there were no school rules against yawning or wide mouth. In fact, there was freedom of yawning and snoring and Korkorti exercised both freedoms judiciously and democratically.
“Do you know when you yawn you look like a hungry crocodile,” the master once asked him.
“Yes sir, I am aware sir,” Korkorti confirmed and yawned again. This time he nearly swallowed the whole class. There was an uproar and the whole class reverberated in good laughter.
The English master shook his head and then nodded it like an agama lizard. This Korkorti boy was a real character, a phenomenon, a one-man-thousand. Meanwhile lessons had to continue.
It was in those days when school was exciting and we often gathered and talked about girls. I had often dreamt of having a girl from Holy Child School because I had heard very saintly and curious things about them,
I had learnt from a guy from Saint Augustine’s College that Holy Child girls were of a special breed, in fact a hybrid between the cultured home-bred variety and those of inner holiness. They were born of the Holy Spirit. The only thing was that they didn’t suffer under Pontius Pilate.
In short, they were angels in human form, spoke in a special way, walked with a unique and danced with heavenly steps. They were taught by Holy Nuns and so were quite different from us who had no hope of making any spirito-culturo-scholastic progress.
I confessed to Korkorti that I wanted a girl from Holy Child, not for immoral purposes but to partake of their saintly ways so that when it was time for going to heaven, Kwame Alomele could also be considered.
During vacations we met girls from Mawuli, Ola, Accra Girls, St. Roses, Wesley Girls but none from Holy Child. Then one day, Kwame Korkorti whispered into my ear that a Holy Child babe was in town and that he was sure my dreams had come true.
Korkorti organised it and we positioned at a spot, knowing the girl would traverse en route to the library or the market. After a boring period of waiting, Korkorti suddenly espied the child coming. I looked at her face and saw of an angel. What! This was the kind I always wanted. God bless my soul! This was really my chance and Korkorti had prophesied it.
“Hello Sister,” Korkorti called her when about to leave us.
The girl slowed down and looked at us. My heartbeat increased in tempo. What really was I going to tell this angel? Wouldn’t she think Korkorti was Satan and me a common red-eyed demon? I gathered courage.
“What do you want?” she asked in a sweet voice. My heart melted instantly. Spotless beauty with voice that did something to me. Good gracious!
“Eh-h, my friend says he likes you,” Korkorti to her bluntly.
At that very moment I felt as if a sledge-hammer had hit my chest with the force of a dynamite. What a blunder! What a shock! I felt dizzy instantly. My bosom friend had balked the whole agenda. Before I could recover from the shock, the girl had walked away. From that day. I never met another holy child.
In January, this year, I miraculously received a letter from an 18-year old Holy Child student who said she was my fan. It was a nicely written letter and I enjoyed reading it. I then relived the Korkorti incident and laughed aloud to myself.
So when Korkorti and Kofi Owuo summoned me, I reminded them of the day my heart melted at the sight of the angel; that angel which disappeared before my eyes and made me go back home not crying and yet not laughing.
This article was first published on Saturday, March 18, 1996
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