Features
The stomach, ministers and parliamentarians
Sikaman Palava
My bosom friend Kofi Kokotako had the ‘impudence’ of a dead cock- roach. It was at a food-eating competition where he surprised the devil himself. Yes, Mr James Lucifer was awed because Kofi ate like a demon and won the competition hands down.
He started with six hefty balls of kenkey and palmnut soup. Soon after, he followed it with eba and okro soup which he swallowed like a hungry Yoruba carpenter.
The quantity could have satisfied three famishing construction labourers.
He relaxed a bit and requested for ten pieces of cooked cocoyam with kontomire stew when all the other competitors had long retired. Like a savage, he crushed the large pieces between his jaws and every- body applauded. Presently he announced that he was not half-satisfied.
He ordered one big loaf of butter-bread and four large cups of a popular beverage and finished it all in record time, as spectators gaped at the spectacle. Everybody began wondering whether Kokotako was some kind of food-god.
He now relaxed completely and of course, everyone thought he was done with. Then he surprised all when he took hold of a tuber of yam and started peeling it, saying that it was for dessert. Soon the yam was cooked and it all disappeared down his long throat with garden egg stew.
Not long thereafter, a small boy was eating kokonte and groundnut soup nearby and Kokotako collected it from him amidst laughter: He devoured it gleefully while the boy cried for the loss of his food.
Kofi Kokotako won the competition and was honoured with a trophy and ¢300 in those days when the cedi was powerful. But it was not too long after the presentation ceremony when he confided in me that he was feeling dizzy. I suggested to him that he should order mashed kenkey to clear the dizziness and he retorted that I was a fool.
“Do you want to kill me?” he asked. “This is a killer advice. Mashed kenkey on top of all these?”
It was then that I realised that my good friend was not a food-god, after all. Before I was aware Kokotako had crashed to the floor. Collapsed. There was an uproar! The champion was dying! Someone said his hernia had come, and another said that the food was boozing him like akpeteshie.
Anyhow, he was carried to the hospital and the doctor gave him an emetic which made him throw-up. The doctor’s report stated that it was unbelievable a human being of the stature of Master Kokotako could consume such quantity.
He added that the dangerous boy probably vomited more than he ate, a miracle of a rare kind.
When he recuperated, the doctor interviewed him. Asked why he ate so much, he replied that he wanted to win the contest hands down and stomach out.
“Under normal circumstances, how many balls of kenkey can you eat at one sitting?”
“Only about six balls at a sitting.”
“Is it a family disease or is it peculiar to you only?”
“Sir, it is not a family disease. It is a gift from God.”
Yeah, Kofi Kokotako was and is a trencherman, with an unusual capacity for food. That is why when he wakes up from bed and has not taken his almighty break- fast he would frown and not respond to any greeting.
When he was in Form Three, his father called him at dawn and advised him. “My son,” he said, “I’ve realised that you’ve got talent in dealing with food. In fact, you are more than a bush-pig. So I’ll advise you to take your Agricultural Science studies very, very seriously. Don’t joke with it at all because it is the key to your future happiness, since you have a problem with your stomach.
“I want to be a cook instead,” Kokotako suggested.
“If you don’t produce food, how can you cook it?”
If Kokotako had been a parliamentarian in the Fourth Republic, he would have been dozing all throughout the daily sessions after having breakfast weighing several kilos. And I hope that none of our parliamentarians is following in the footsteps of my friend as far as matters of the stomach are concerned.
Parliament is a place of serious legislative business and there is no room for dozers. At the moment, parliamentarians are vetting ministerial nominees who, when approved of, will become ministers plenipotentiary of the state.
And I guess they have started doing a good job, and not dozing. Now, to vet somebody means that you should be able to know him inside out.
During the revolution, secretaries of state were not vetted because where was the parliament to vet them? They were simply appointed and didn’t even undergo medical exam before they took post.
But this time, it is becoming quite different and I urge, the Committee to employ the use of spirito-electronic X’rays which can bring out past moral activities of the nominees.
We want our ministers to be men of proven integrity and high moral standing. Some of them have one wife but three concubines. As for the girlfriends, no way; they don’t even know the names of some of them. They just come and go.
A minister of such reputation will obviously not be putting up his best because he would be pre- occupied with grabbing money to satisfy his numerous women.
Nominees should also be tested for alcoholism because any minister who imbibes more than the alcoholic equivalent of four bottles of beer a day will not be a responsible person as far as diligence and hardwork are concerned.
Their hands should also be examined to see if they’ve been tainted with stealing state money or misapplying it. They should also be examined for their food habits. A minister whose capacity is comparable to that of Kofi Kokotako and eats heavy kokonte at six o’clock in the morning is certain to doze all day long and therefore cannot handle ministerial affairs.
What about parliamentarians? They have already been vetted by their people, and what is now at hand borders on their salary. And I think they are aware that their job is sacrificial and not of luxury.
They must, however, be paid well so that they can afford coffee and toasted bread at breakfast to make them smart at the assembly. If not, a majority of them will continue eating heated left-over banku and when the Speaker of Parliament asks one why he has been dozing regularly, he’d reply:
“Mr Speaker, I ate yesterday’s banku early this morning and I guess the corn dough fermented a bit too much. Please, pay us quickly and then we can avoid fermentation and take oats, milk and jam before coming to the assembly.”
Yes the salary of parliamentarians. Anything between ¢180,000 and ¢250,000 will do for them. If they are fighting for more than that, then it means that they have no feeling for the country.
They must know that because of the rise in the salaries of civil servants, the country is broke. Also, some workers are earning ¢20,000 a month and so ¢250,000 for a parliamentarian who is doing sacrificial work should suffice.
I wish the parliamentarians a happy term and urge them to deliberate on issues very objectively and me to good conclusions to avoid the legislature being labelled as a one-party parliament.
Features
The Prophet part 3
In anticipation of a sizeable offering, he had brought a big silver bowl and placed it close to the ‘pulpit’. He kept glancing at it in the course of the service and noted with satisfaction that it was ‘doing very well’.
By the close of the service it was full. Immediately the final ‘Amen’ was said, he grabbed it and placed it close to his new desk. He managed to extricate himself from the people who wanted to thank him or shake his hands, and sat down to attend to the people who had lined up to consult him.
He gave them the required ‘directions’, taking appropriate fees after invoking special prayers. The last person to consult him was Mr. Kwame Dofu, who had specifically asked to be the last.
‘Osofo’, he started, ‘I wanted to discuss a special business with you, that is why I asked to see you last. I am in the gold business. There is big money in it, but there is also competition, so many of the people in it are using all kinds of powers. I came to ask for your special assistance. I want to win the confidence with the foreigners who come to buy gold, and the foreign big men at the mines who are able to give us big business. If you are able to help me, I will give you a very big reward. I have two friends who will also need your help. I will bring them too’.
‘Don’t worry, Mr. Dofu. I can help you. Give me two days to prepare, and come back for the necessary directions. You will certainly do big business’.
‘I knew you will help, Osofo. I am very glad I came to see you. Now, here is five hundred cedis for your petrol. When I come in three days’ time I will prepare fully’.
Now, Papa Antubam told himself, why did I wait so long to start this business. Only a few days, and things couldn’t be better. Wow!
He remembered that there was money to be counted. He moved to pick the big bowl, but two young smiling ladies stepped forward.
‘Osofo, we wanted to ask your permission to count it. I am Mary, and she is Suzzie’.
‘That’s very kind of you’, he said. ‘Please go ahead, but before that, please go to the lady at the kiosk over there and ask her to give you the cold box I left with her’. They brought it, and as they counted the money, Papa Antubam sipped two bottles of beer, which he had re-labeled as Sprite Orange Drink, just in case some inquisitive busybody asked stupid questions.
‘They finished, presented the neatly packed notes and coins to him’.
‘Osofo, it adds up to three thousand, three hundred and two cedis’.
‘Thank you very much, beautiful ladies’. Take a hundred cedis each for your kind effort. They gratefully accepted the offer, and were moving away when Antubam called them back.
‘Now, Mary and Suzzie, which one of you is married?’
‘We are both unmarried’, Suzzie said.
‘In that case, there is something you must do for me. You know this is a new church. You already know what miracles have started happening here. Bigger things are about to happen. Now, I want you two to be with me. I will give you senior positions in the church. And I will take care of all your needs. Fortunately, you are both very good looking. From today, you belong to me. What do you say to what I have just said?
The two ladies looked at each other for a minute, and smiled.
‘We agree, Osofo’.
‘Fantastic! Now take the money to my place, and since we are all hungry and tired, buy something nice for us to eat, and let’s see what interesting things the afternoon will do for us’.
The girls picked up the money bowl and followed him to his house. They dropped the items, collected money and left to buy the take-away food.
‘Now Suzzie’, Mary said to her friend, ‘what have we led ourselves into? We only wanted to pinch a few cedis, now we have agreed to be his wives, or is it concubines?’
‘You surprise me, Mary. This is the nicest thing that ever happened to us. How much did you pinch, by the way?’
‘250 cedis. Not bad at all for an hour’s work? But how can the two of us be his wives? Suzzie, what will people think? Did we go to the church for God’s help or to practice polygamy?’
‘You don’t get the point, Mary. Listen, this is no church. Any pastor who drinks alcohol disguised as orange juice and proposes to two congregants on the first day is no pastor. He is doing business with the church, thanks to some village jujuman. And as you clearly saw, he is overwhelmed by the money flowing. So we will help him. And I can assure you, he will not get even a kiss from either of us.’
‘How will we do that? He is a man, and we have agreed to be his wives’.
‘Give me just one hour. I’ll show you’.
They bought the food, and Mary also bought a bottle of Zap Whisky Medium. They laid the table.
‘Osofo, I brought a nice appetizer for you. You know your work is tedious, and you need to save some energy for tomorrow.’
‘Er, er, normally I stay away from alcohol, but you have a point, let me try just a little. Mary dropped small amounts into his glass, and by the time they finished eating, half of the drink was gone.
‘Osofo, I suggest we get a solid briefcase with a lock to keep your money. You should open a bank account. We’ll make payments into it, and you can sign cheques anytime you need money. For now we’ll record the denominations and the amount, then I’ll wrap it up – you can keep it under your mattress. Let me top your drink’.
‘You are so thoughtful, Mary. How can I thank you?’
As the girls pretended to be doing some serious calculations, Papa Antubam eased himself on the bed, hoping that the girls would soon join him for some fun. Within a short while, he was fast asleep, snoring rhythmically. The girls tucked the money under his bed, closed the door and went out of the house.
‘And how long are we going to keep this up, Suzzie?’
‘Not for very long. Very soon all kinds of women, single and married, would be fighting over him. The money and spiritual power will attract them. When he realizes that we do not want to have sex with him he will throw us out. By then I would have already set up my shop, and you would have opened your salon’.
‘You have worked it all out have you? You are a real thief’.
‘Me, a thief? Then what do you call Osofo Antobam? Let me tell you, Suzzie. Those people who are using the name of God to make money and use people are real criminals, and I will enjoy everything I do to Antobam. And I know your next question. Am I not afraid of his powers? What powers? I don’t fear his fake powers. Let’s go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll fleece him of a few more cedis’.
By Ekow de Heer
Features
Beyond Big English
Any minister-designate who is about to be vetted by a parliamentary vetting committee must prepare for the worst.
He must understand that the vetting process is not a test for mere eloquence and bombast, alliteration and poetic delivery. It goes beyond the parapet of diction and usage, semantics and grandiloquence.
The aspiring minister may, therefore, speak big English, but it doesn’t really matter.
There is always a dictionary around to be consulted anyway. What matters is his (or her) ability to prove beyond every reasonable doubt that he can handle the job based on his academic, professional and moral track record.
The minister must be seen to be qualified for the job in all facets. If so, every question may be relevant no matter how frivolous. It has always been the case.
For example, if someone is a homosexual, that is his own palaver. But if he vies for public office, his homosexual activities must be well-examined and although he may be the best suited for the job, his unnatural desires may well disqualify him for obvious reasons. Of course, who wants a minister who will be sodomising his driver, garden boy and the tall security guard?
The case of Canaan Banana, one time Vice President of Zimbabwe, is fresh in memory. He was recently released from jail for sodomy, a conduct completely unbefitting of a nation’s vice-presidency.
It is also useful for questioners enquire about marital status, number of previous and current wives, number of children and the like.
Someone might have two wives for very good reasons. May be, one woman is not enough for him due to his extraordinary sexual appetite. And to avoid being adulterous, he takes another wife. It is a legitimate reason and polygamy is not a crime in Sikaman.
However, parliament must know whether he’d have time for the job as a minister when he is always thinking about sex and how to satisfy two wives while fathering and catering for kids on both sides.
A minister may have 13 children. It is a matter of choice, and some people naturally like large families so his talent in procreation might probably not be to his sexual vitality, but to fulfil biblical principles of being fruitful and proving it by multiplying to gratify a desire for a jumbo size family.
However, such a family size may attract queries bordering on population control and family planning. “Mr So-and-so, Assuming every man had 13 children, can you estimate what the population of Sikaman will be? And will your government be able to provide jobs and schools for all?
But of course, that is, according to the questioner, a mere assumption and can, therefore never be the case. However, the question is relevant.
RIDICULE
The reason why all ministers-designate should be prepared for the worst is that some questioners may also be prepared to ridicule them. However, in the process, the aspiring minister’s patience is tested.
Is the man going to be a minister who easily flares up and starts misbehaving? And how would anyone know if he is not that type unless his annoyance gauge is not tested in public?
We may have a mister who would be slapping his staff left and right, occasionally throwing karate kicks when foreign dignitaries are around.
I hear that to be chosen as a minister is easier than preparing for the vetting. The problem that you wouldn’t know which skeleton in your cupboard will be exposed and which dirty linen will be advertised for all to see. So some ministers designate have had sleepless nights and others have to be forced to do some fasting.
After fasting and praying, the aspiring minister must prepare his (or her) wardrobe for the occasion. How do ministers dress? Are they simple or flamboyant like peacocks? Anyhow the minister-designate must start looking-like a minister, talking and acting like one.
He must wear a three-piece suit and get a stylish tailor. The suit in his wardrobe isn’t quite good. It would be okay for a poor aristocrat, not a newly nominated candidate who just learnt to cough and sneeze like a minister. He has even proven to his wife that he snores like a minister.
And when the day comes, must he merely walk or rather dance to take his seat to be vetted? Should he smile broadly showing all his teeth or only some? He isn’t quite sure.
One thing Parliament has forgotten is something called “Lie Detector Test”. It could be used only if candidates are answering questions about their past deeds. Everybody has cupboard skeletons, but that of some are too many. Fraudulence, immorality with teenage girls, exaggerated CVs, sexual harassment, whatever.
A Lie Detector may not be very accurate, but at least it can make ten children, but they declare only four. The Lie Detector can be useful here.
But what is the relevance of all these when people argue that the more wayward the candidate the more efficient he is? They cite Bill Clinton. But his is an exception? Isn’t it?
This article was first published was on Saturday, February 10, 2001