Features
Africans are their own enemies (Part 2)
“A man’s enemies are those of his own household,” so the Bible says inMicah 7:6. Last week, we validated this with the treachery of top Ghanaian military and police officers in conniving with the CIA to depose Ghana’s first president, Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah.
This week, the case of the Congolese nationalist, Patrice Lumumba whose compatriots cruelly backstabbed him buttresses the point.
They unashamedly connived with their oppressors to chase Lumumba out of office and assassinate him barely three months after gaining independence for them, depriving Africa of a gem of a leader.
He was a journalist and a poet but above all he was a freedom fighter like Nkrumah, in fact one of Nkrumah’s protégés.
He emerged when his country, then known as Belgian Congo, had suffered decades of oppressive colonial rule foisted on them by King Leopold II of Belgium in 1885 at the onset of the scramble for Africa.
The king did not only commandeer the Congo as his private property, but also enslaved and brutalised the natives, killing millions.
Those who failed to meet their quota of rubber harvest had their hands amputated.
Unwilling to submit to the regime of injustice, oppression and exploitation, Lumumba formed a political pressure group in 1958 at the age of 33 to agitate for change.
Even though he was from a minority tribe and very young, his charisma and courage attracted many heavyweights from the bigger ethnic groups to his cause.
They launched the Congolese National Movement, (Mouvement National Congolais), MNC, the first really all-Congolese political party.
In contrast, his two principal rivals, Joseph Kasavubu and MoiseTshombe, hailed from large, powerful, ethnic groups with political parties that were regional in character.
But they controlled large swathes of land populous enough to threaten Lumumba and his party despite its national character.
The same year he formed his party, Lumumba whose fame was growing with lightning speed, was invited by Dr. Nkrumah to the All-African People’s Conference in Accra held a year after securing independence for Ghana against all odds.
After independence, Dr. Nkrumah declared that Ghana’s freedom was meaningless unless it was linked up with the total liberation of Africa.
The conference, was therefore, convened to galvanise the rest of Africa to liberate themselves from the shackles of colonialism.
Two years after the summit, following mounting pressure on Belgium, France and the United Kingdom, they consented, albeit grudgingly, to demands by the colonies for multi-party elections.
As many as 26 African countries including the Congo and most francophone colonies, gained independence.
The MNC won a sizeable majority mandating it to form a government, with Lumumba becoming the first Prime Minister at 35 years.
Kasavubu was elected ceremonial president implying that the radical, leftist Lumumba, was more powerful to the dislike of the Belgians and their Western allies, especially the US.
Like his mentor, his speeches were alarmingly fiery, sharply stinging, fearlessly uncompromising, brutally sincere, and unnervingly electrifying.
The best is the one he gave on June 30, 1960, the day the Congo was granted its independence.
That day, King Boudewijn, the last Belgian king over the Congo, added insult to injury when he said the Congolese had been granted independence because his country’s project to civilise them had been accomplished. What?
As if the Belgians had done the Congo any favour by returning their stolen freedom to them, Kasavubu docilely thanked them for independence.
But Lumumba could not stomach the nonsense and vehemently protested, exposing the savagery of the Belgians vis-à-vis their claims of civilisation.
He stressed that independence had resulted from a relentless fight and not from the magnanimity of the Belgians. Among other things, he said:
“Although, this independence of the Congo is being proclaimed today by agreement with Belgium, … no Congolese will ever forget that independence was won in struggle, a persevering and inspired struggle, carried on from day to day, a struggle, in which we were undaunted by privation or suffering and stinted neither strength nor blood.
“It was filled with tears, fire, and blood. We are deeply proud of our struggle because it was just and noble and indispensable in putting an end to the humiliating bondage forced upon us.
“That was our lot for the eighty years of colonial rule and our wounds are too fresh and much too painful to be forgotten.
“We have experienced forced labour in exchange for pay that did not allow us to satisfy our hunger, to clothe ourselves, to have decent lodgings or to bring up our children as dearly loved ones.
“Morning, noon, and night we were subjected to jeers, insults, and blows because we were Negroes. … Our lot was worse than death itself.
“Who will ever forget the shootings which killed so many of our brothers, or the cells into which were mercilessly thrown those who no longer wished to submit to the … oppression used by the colonialists as a tool of their domination?
“All that, my brothers, brought us untold suffering. But we, who were elected by the votes of your representatives … to guide our native land, we, who have suffered in body and soul from colonial oppression, we tell you that henceforth, all that is finished with.
“We shall show the world what the black man can do when working in liberty, and we shall make the Congo the pride of Africa.
“I ask you all to sink your tribal quarrels: they weaken us and may cause us to be despised abroad.
“I ask you all not to shrink from any sacrifice for the sake of ensuring the success of our grand undertaking.
Like Nkrumah, he concluded that his country’s independence was a decisive step towards the liberation of the whole of Africa.
To the West, that speech meant a declaration of war. His candour was too piercing and humiliating for Belgium and its allies, especially the US.
To their chagrin, a firebrand like Nkrumah, or even more radical freedom fighter had emerged, threatening their interests.
He must be eliminated, dead or alive. How? Look for the enemies within and use them.
They enlisted Kasavubu and Tshombe, as well as Joseph Desire Mobutu, a 31-year-old army officer whom Lumumba had made his personal assistant.
Lumumba’s call for unity to develop the Congo fell on deaf ears. For almost immediately after independence, some units of the army mutinied against their Belgian officers, demanding improved service conditions and an indigenous hierarchy.
Tshombe used the ensuing confusion as pretext to lead the mineral-rich Katanga province to secede. Another province, Kasai, also broke away, leaving the Congo fragmented and fragile.
Belgium sent in troops, ostensibly, to protect its nationals, but in reality, to reinforce the secessionist regimes of Katanga and Kasai where they landed.
In line with their “divide and rule” tactic, the West backed Kasavubu and Tshombe’s push for regional autonomy against Lumumba’s moves to unify the country.
The embattled Prime Minister, called for help from the US unaware that the Americans were after him. Even his appeal to the UN proved futile,
While Lumumba was trying his best to save the situation, Kasavubu declared him dismissed from office. He retaliated, saying he had removed Kasavubu.
With the UN forces and the Belgians backing the rebels, Lumumba appealed to the Soviet Union for support to help his troops to quell the revolt, a move that alarmed Belgium, and its allies.
In the confusion, Mobutu staged a coup, not to reinstate the Prime Minister but to assassinate him with the connivance of the US and Belgium.
While under house arrest by rebel soldiers of Katanga and Belgian forces, Lumumba escaped, intending to flee to an area controlled by his forces.
But the Belgians and troops loyal to Mobutu, with the help of the CIA, hunted for him and murdered him and two of his aides in cold blood for no crime.
Mobutu ordered a mafia-style execution, looking on callously as they were shot, and their bodies hacked to pieces before being dissolved in acid.
That was on January 17, 1960, barely seven months after Lumumba gained independence for his country.
A Belgian officer who supervised the killings, took one of Lumumba’s teeth as a trophy to his country.
In June this year, after more than six decades, Belgium returned the tooth for burial after apologising for the atrocity meted out to Lumumba.
Mobutu became one of the worst despots in world history. He ruled for 32 years, killed a countless number of his compatriots like King Leopold did, and impoverished millions while he stashed away the country’s wealth in numerous personal foreign accounts.
As long as he remained a puppet of the West and did their bidding, they looked on unconcerned while the Congolese people languished in abject misery.
His country has never since found its feet.
By Tony Prempeh
Contact:
teepeejubilee@yahoo.com
Features
Prostitution in Sikaman -1
Men come from in-between the thighs of women and spend the rest of their lives trying to get back.
Apart from money-based church business and armed robbery, prostitution must be the next most lucrative private enterprise in Sikaman. It is normally organised as a sole proprietorship and not as a limited liability company.
In some cases, it is a partnership between a prostitute and a pimp who knows he is destined for hell, anyway.
‘Sikaman Palava’ investigations have lots to reveal about the flesh trade. Contrary to opinions that the business is dying out, it is rather booming and mobile phones and E- mail services are making it more pliable.
It all points to the fact that some prostitutes are in a class of their own. The clients are top shots and expatriates who have ‘dough’, executives who want the service in style, with all the champagne airs, a little perversity here, a bit of sadism there to intensify sexual gratification.
The fact is that some of the big guns are tired of having sex with their wives. Some claim the women are not what they used to be. After one or two children, they simply bloat, develop flabby breasts, and lose the shape that used to turn their husbands crazy. So there must be a search for new cargo. But the big man cannot go after ‘meat’ in the streets. He must distinguish himself in the sinful venture, and if that means going to hell, so be it.
It has come to the realisation of some high profile prostitutes that their peculiar brand of prostitution is in high demand by high paying clients. So they make themselves available on ‘mobile. The client only has to dial a number and she is booked.
“You can’t get me before 9pm. I’ll fix you for 9:30 pm till thy kingdom come. I’ve got a new style to outdoor tonight I hope you don’t get a heart attack. As you know, it can be quite hectic sometimes.”
“See you at 9:30 then. I’m already getting a hard-on.”
CANDLELIGHT
Some prostitutes indeed deliver in style. They can cook the best of meals and serve in the glow of candlelight, light music floating from the back ground. The romantic atmosphere is quite irresistible and the client is delighted. He laughs like a fool.
In a more elaborate setting, he must submit to a lather bath and massage with health-oils. When he is through, he is relaxed. A glass of champagne loosens his appetite. Two tots of Alomo heightens his libido, but he must be patient. In the hands of an experienced prostitute, you indeed must be patient, lest you stumble and fall.
The sex act itself can vary depending on the taste of the client, his orientation, his occupation, level of intelligence or stupidity. Everything counts. Other factors to consider is the weirdness of the character of the particular client. Is he perverse? What about unnatural sex; sodomy? Fellatio and cunninlingus? Very frightening terms. Sadism or masochism?
A whole successful businessman worth millions of dollars is seen naked with a chain around his neck like a licensed dog.
He is dragged about in a room by a lousy prostitute who gives him orders to bark “Wow! Wow! Wow!”
It is all part of the sexual gimmick. Sometimes, the man is flogged with a belt; that’s the only way he can become aroused. And when he is through after satisfying himself sexually, he pants for breath. “Jesus Christ! Deliver me!”
The bill is outrageously high. A quick cheque settles it though and the client is led to his car. At home, he tells his wife, “The meeting today was very hectic. They just wouldn’t understand my point of view, I had to leave panting at the end of it.’
EXPERIENCE
A prostitute who handles high-profile clients are normally trained overseas where they also gain experience. When they are getting older, they come back home and set up. They are still attractive, curvy, not too bad vital statistics.
They have their own houses, cars and a houseboy who knows how to shut his beak. Occasionally, he is given a sexual treat by Madam and he wonders whether heaven is not right here on earth.
The next class of prostitutes are the freelancers. They may look gaudy, boosy and wandering. They may target motorists. After a lift and a nice chat, they can offer to give the wealthy-looking driver some manipulation of his organ while he is still driving, quite a dangerous undertaking.
If the driver doesn’t end up in a ditch or hits an electric pole when climaxing, then he is likely to wind up in the sea. Often, nothing happens, though. The lady is dropped off, the man gets home and realises that his wallet full of foreign currency and cedis is nowhere to be found. It is a lesson to be learnt the hard way.
This kind of prostitute may even take a client to a hotel. She chats and drinks with the wealthy client who wants to go and ‘wee wee’. In his absence the prostitute drops a little something in his drink. He is back, takes a long one down his throat. In 15 minutes, he can be seen lying prostrate, snoring powerfully.
The prostitute dresses up quickly, takes the loot from the man’s brief- case and exits. Thousands of dollars and pound sterling together with travellers’ cheques gone for good. These types are in town. Get wary of them, till we meet next week for the sequel.
Features
The Prophet part 4
Antobam woke up with a terrible headache. He checked the time on his mobile phone, 2:30 am. “What! Where is the money?” He asked aloud. “Where are those girls? Why did I drink so much of that whisky? What were those two girls up to?” He sat up on the bed and noticed a bulge close to the pillow.
He lifted the mattress and picked up the newspaper wrappers with the neatly arranged notes. He saw the neatly written record of the value of the notes. No, those girls are not thieves.
“It was my mistake. If I hadn’t drank myself to sleep they would be here in bed with me, giving me the time of my life. Pretty girls, those two. And so loyal and honest. Tomorrow will be different.”
“I will not drink any whisky, and I will show them that I am a real man. Just then he heard the whispers. Very soon it will be time, they seemed to be saying. This is an important day.”
The gold dealer will bring lots of money. Give him some of the liquid to drink, and we will prepare him. He will do very big business, and he will give you anything you ask for. There will be more miracles and testimonies today.
Antobam smiled to himself. “I am going to be a very rich man in only a few days man. Money, power, and women. Wow! Antobam got to the grounds at 5, but there were quite a number of people waiting.
Mr Kwame Dofu was among them. He greeted them all, and they came around to shake his hand. “My brothers and sisters, I assure you that whatever your problem is, you will not go home without a solution.” Shouts of “Amen” “thank” you Osofo and “you are a true man of God” responded.
“Please take your seats, and start talking to the great one about whatever bothers you. Before the service is over, there will be a solution.” He waved Mr Dofu over, and went with him to the wooden structure that serves as a temporary office.
“My brother, I have done quite a lot of work on the issue you came to see me about. I have prepared a special, powerful package for you. Take this, drink it, and go back to your business. I want to see you in two weeks.”
Beaming with smiles, Mr Dofu drank the foul smelling liquid in two gulps, said a big thank you to Antobam and took his leave. “I believe you, Papa Osofo. And I assure you that I will reward you, big time.”
Just when Osofo Antubam finished with Mr Dofu, Mary and Suzzie went over to him. “Good Morning ladies. I am very sorry about yesterday. I drank too much of the stuff you gave me. Today will be different, I assure you.”
“Don’t worry, Osofo. Since you are now setting things up, our main concern now is to help you to put things in place, and to make you comfortable. We are always there to serve you. This morning, Osofo, we want to go and clean up your place, and prepare something nice for you when you close.
And before coming to church, we will pass by the bank and collect the forms. After you have signed them, the account will be open. You can check the payments anytime and, of course, issue cheques whenever you need money.”
“Suzzie and Mary, I am happy I picked the two of you from the very start. Listen, I will take good care of you, okay? Here is some money. Buy whatever you need for the errands you have mentioned.
And here is the key. Please come back as early as you can. You know I need you here.” The service was very lively. The lively singing of praise songs was followed by one and a half hours of testimonies.
Most of them related to money – big sales, new jobs and overdue debts paid. But there were also testimonies about healing. Barren women had taken seed, and, of course, several men who had lost their bedroom authority had regained them, to the delight of their partners.
As he had promised, Antobam preached for only 30 minutes, exhorting the congregation to attend church regularly, pay their tithes and offerings, and strictly follow his ‘directions’ for securing solutions to their problems.
After another round of praises during which the congregation danced to the floor to drop their offering, he closed the service, grabbed the big bowl which was full to the brim with money, and moved to his desk. A long queue was quickly formed at the desk.
Meanwhile, Mary and Suzzie had gone to give Antobam’s place quite a decent look. A new bedsheet and pillows, a secondhand carpet and four plastic chairs placed in the verandah had done the trick.
They also prepared two fish and chicken stews. After all these, they rushed to the National Savings Bank and collected application forms for opening current and savings accounts.
They joined the service a few minutes before the main session closed. Antobam looked round and saw, to his relief, Mary and Suzzie moving towards him. “Hello ladies. What have you been up to?” “Quite a bit, Osofo. We’ve just collected your drink. Here you are. We’ve made a few changes at your place. I think you will like it. You will also have something nice to eat. Now, here are the forms for the savings and current accounts.
If you will sign them, the bank will open the account. From today, we can pay all monies direct into the account.” ‘How can I thank you, ladies?” “You don’t need to thank us,” Suzzie said. “It is our duty to help a man of God succeed.” “Okay, my ladies, please take the offerings and count them as you did yesterday.
You can add the payments made after the consultations. Will it be possible to pay them into the account today?” “Yes,” Mary said. “The bank closes at four. If we leave here at three, we would be there just in time.”
The two friends started counting, as Osofo Antobam gave his clients his directions for solving their problems. On quite a few occasions he closed his eyes as if he was receiving direction from above on what to do.
But as the fetish priest at the Nana Kofi Broni shrine and the dwarfs had assured him, the solutions would certainly be provided. Having heard the huge testimonies earlier in the day, the clients parted with substantial sums of money in expectation.
By Ekow de Heer
