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
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