Features
Waakye Girl – Part 1
David noticed her only a few days after she joined her mother and sisters to sell waakye at the joint where he dropped his sister on his way to work. “The girl was a drop-dead beauty,” he told himself.
She responded politely to his greetings, even though her two sisters bared their teeth, obviously because they wanted to protect her from predators.
One day the elder sister followed him to his car and told him politely but firmly,
‘Sir, my sister has been bethrothed to a young man, a graduate like you, so please leave her alone. Maybe you don’t mean any harm, but I just want to let you know, just in case.’
‘Okay, madam’, David said. ‘She is certainly very beautiful, and I admired her, but I would never have meant her any harm. Still, thanks for advising me. The young man who got her is very lucky’. She walked away, unimpressed with his long talk.
He continued to buy from her for over two years. She was always polite and friendly, and in days when he bought several packs for his colleagues, she carried them to his car. He never got over thinking that whoever had won the girl was indeed very fortunate. Perhaps he was well known to the family, or even from the same town.
The fact that her sister had come over to drop a ‘friendly warning’ showed that the connection was very close, and they were not going to allow any nonsense to happen to it. One day he asked him her name, and she followed it up by giving her his number.
‘I’m sure you can remember it easily. 2044 244 240. You can just call once in a while to say hello. Please don’t be afraid of me. I don’t mean any harm.” She flashed a bigger smile and assured him that she would call. She said her name was Stella.
One afternoon she called him. He could tell she sounded a little distraught. ‘David, please, I need some advice. Can I meet you anywhere near the joint? It can be very early in the morning, say by six thirty, or in the afternoon at about three o’clock’.
‘Six thirty in the morning is fine, but I can come over this afternoon, if it’s okay. I can stop at about fifty metres from your joint, in front of the bank’. ‘Yes, that would be fine. Thank you very much’.
She was waiting and she joined him in the car. He moved to the car park, to avoid prying eyes. She thanked him for making time to see her and went straight to the point’
‘David, I have no one to help me that is why I am talking to you. You see, my parents agreed with a young man from our home town that he would marry me.
He appeared to like me, but I soon realised that he was more interested in having sex with me than marrying me. My sisters and parents kept pushing me into the relationship, saying that he is one of the few people from our town who has been to the university, so this is one chance to get a good marriage and have children who would have a good future.
Due to their pressure I went into it, even though he has only promised to marry me. It is obvious that he does not love me, and I have realised that he and his friend call me ‘Waakye Girl.’He goes out and comes late, and on two occasions when I complained about this he slapped me.
I told myfamily but they were of the view that such problems were normal in every relationship, so I should have patience. You see, the truth is that I don’t love him, and he is only interested in a sexual relationship with me. Sooner or later he will drop me. I have tried to explain this but my parents just don’t agree’.
‘Okay, Stella. I see the problem, clearly. Now, here’s my advice. You must never allow him to lay his hands on you, not even if he is married to you. So next time hetries to assault you warn him that you will report him to the police. Maybe he already knows that your parents will not pursue charges against him, so he does not fear that.
In any case, resist him whenever he makes the attempt, or leave the house. Your parents should not allow this. Please, let me know how things develop. Things might change. He may realise how lucky he is to get a girl like you. And please, delete all call records and messages you make to me.’
She called him three weeks later. ‘David, I’m afraid things have not improved. A few days after we spoke, I went to him when he was preparing for bed, and told him that I had problems with his late hours, with his manner of speaking with me, and with the beatings.
He gave me a very nasty reply. He asked me to go and ask my father if he does not beat his wife when she misbehaves, and reminded me that in our town beating is the accepted means of disciplining your wife. If I did not want him to beat me, then I should behave myself, and he concluded that many girls from my hometown would be happy to be living with a graduate like him.
The next day he slapped because I asked about a girl who had come to the house to ask of him. I went and complained to my parents, and they came to the house, but he was very rude to them.
He asked my father if he never beat his wife, and advised him to take me away if he did not agree to the discipline he is enforcing in his home. He started raining insults, and my dad advised that if he spoke one more word of insult, he would rather discipline him, and he kept quiet’.
‘Ah, so he fears something. Great. Let’s see if the fear of your dad will get him to behave himself. But Stella, allow me to say this. You are a very beautiful girl, and you have a great future ahead of you. If your man has made it so clear what he would do to you in future, perhaps it would be a good idea to leave the relationship and get a good education.
You already have a good WASSCE certificate. There are university courses for working people. Even if you continue the relationship, I suggest that you pursue education as a priority.’
‘Thank God I spoke with you, David. I will take this up very seriously. Next time we talk, the story will be much different.
By Ekow De Heer
Features
The Tema palaver
There is a legend about what Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah wanted Tema to be like.
According to the prophets of the pre-coup era and those who claimed to have known the Osagyefo’s plans, Tema was being gradually developed to become a model city, a workers’ paradise, not a Chinatown.
Today if you see the Meridian Hotel, you’ll think it has just suffered from a bomb attack. Kokotako recently told me he was sure the once elegant hotel was suffering from a virus infection.
Tema, it has been said, was meant to be a thoroughly planned heavenly-city under a presidential blueprint to be eventually decorated with two border posts. You couldn’t enter using bush paths and grasscutter routes. No rat-catching gimmicks!
According to the sages of those times, non-residents of the city on a visit would have been required to go through a bureaucratic and medical procedure.
First you’ll have to produce your passport cum visa, or a travelling certificate, lassez de passe or carte identite (identity card). Your forehead would have to be examined by an expert to make sure you are not a magician. No magical shows in the city. No Kofi Larteh!
You’ll also be required to produce a medical certificate to prove that you’ve been vaccinated against yellow fever, typhoid and poverty. You don’t come to the city to become a beggar. No way!
In a nutshell, the city was meant to become the model city of West Africa, the Vatican of Sikaman; a state within a state, a wonderland of no mean accolade.
The 1966 coup was a national tragedy although Ghanaians hailed the coup. To the Osagyefo, it was a personal tragedy. His dreams of a glorious harbour city, for instance, with its night-time glow and daytime glitter were washed away as the sub-machine guns rattled the signal of the advent of Ghana’s woes.
Nkrumah probably lamented the coup for one main reason that Tema would never be what he visualised it to become. Some people say the tears he shed were laden with an anathema, a bit of which has probably been visited upon Tema.
Yes, visit Tema and you’ll see vestiges of the old plan, now adulterated and totally confused with gross lack of maintenance, irregular development, over-flowing manholes, dark streets at night, beggars, and people who would have been denied access to the comforts of the city, had the Osagyefo been alive.
Tema is no longer for workers. It is now a free-for all, a boiling pot of all ethnic groups like fufu-eating Ashantis, butter-smearing Fantes, akple-eating Ewes, kontomire-swallowing Akwapims, khebab-roasting northerners and Brong self-imposed exiles who would eat nothing apart from unripe plantain. Very delicious, you know.
The shoe-shine boys are in their hundreds and wayside chop bars especially at night are common feature. You’ll be glad to meet an ex-seaman at a drinking bar talking about the good old days when Black Starline was indeed a national line. You’ll notice a retired seaman by his swag for the unmistakable seaman trademark in the gait.
Tema of today is famous for its brand of Pidgin English. It is next to the Nigerian version which is acknowledged by linguistic experts as the cremé of pidgin. Not good for SSS students, though.
The city is also famous for its high cost of living. Those who come from Accra and Kumasi to live there often pack bag and baggage after a few months and run away without anybody chasing them. Sometimes they leave their jackets behind. Life is no joke.
If you can, however, stay in Tema for over five years without suffering from financial constipation, then you are qualified and baptised to live in the ‘hard’ cities of the world including Hanoi, and Bombay. As for Mogadishu, I doubt it. Sometimes you have breakfast once in two weeks and that’s not a cheap situation. You’ve got to bow.
Surprisingly those who live in Tema and have got used to the rough weather don’t want to live anywhere else. They love the city, the breeze, the pidgin.
Today, the new SSNIT flats are giving the city a new class just as fast as the deteriorating conditions of the Tema Development Corporation (TDC)-owned houses are de-beautifying the city. No maintenance whatsoever and the corporation is beset with problems and matters that need redress.
At this very moment, the Tema Tenants Association (TTA) and TDC are at each other’s throat, in a dangerous horseplay that can degenerate into something else. The corporation intends to sell its rented units, meaning that if you can’t buy the house you’re living in, then you’ve got to quit and probably go to your hometown for good.
So whether you are a rich business tycoon or a mandated church mouse, you have to, within three months from now, make ready over three million cedis for the place you are occupying.
There is, however, an alternative. Poor tenants who can’t afford the outrageous prices will from October 1 pay 300 per cent on rent. A single room will now cost 7,000 cedis per month.
Members of the tenants’ association who are ready to take to the streets in protest have accused TDC of having woefully failed as a landlord because it has not maintained buildings it is supposed to maintain.
Some of the buildings are in a real mess.
The association has called for a commission of enquiry to investigate the matter to ensure that propriety and neglect no longer become good bedfellows and also to enable the poor worker and his family to have a place to lay their heads without being intimidated with outright sales and high rents.
The Tema Development Corporation (TDC) itself has a lot of things happening in there, the public would be very much interested in knowing. Many things in fact.
I’ll revisit the issue sooner than you’d expect. Watch out for the bombshell!
This article was published on
Saturday, August 6, 1994
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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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