Features
Criminals and gullible natives
A criminal is a criminal whether or he has thick lips. As such, I strongly disagree with the French psychologist, Lombroso, whose idea of a criminal is a person with hard features and thick lips. If Lombroso had conducted his research in Africa, he probably might have condemned Africans to be a criminal race, since broad noses and thick lips, among others, comprise the African’s visage.
In Sikaman for instance, we have dangerous criminals whose physiognomy has nothing to do with their criminality. We have criminal die-hards and recidivists who are handsome gentlemen and comely ladies. Women who dupe for instance are the most attractive, albeit with dark minds.
And one thing I have come to realise of late is that there has been a return to the use of wits and magic in place of violence by criminals, especially by thieves and burglars. Perhaps, the idea of firing squads does not particularly appeal to them.
Using wits and magıc has a long history in Sikaman. In 1974, certain crooks, allegedly from a neighbouring country, invaded Sikaman to make money. They greeted you, you responded and your genitals got lost if you were a man. If a woman, your breasts vanished in a twinkle of an eye.
In desperation and bewilderment, weeping and gnashing of teeth, you quickly had to agree to pay quite a sum of money to another man (an accomplice) who approached you offering help, and you got back your sexual accessories.
It was widely disseminated that the antidote to the magic was pepper or charcoal. You simply had to put one of these into your pockets wherever you were going and then you were safe. Those days you could see Sikaman natives laden with pepper in all pockets and some with loads of charcoal in their back pockets. Pepper and charcoal became essential commodities.
This criminal practice died down in Tema for instance, not because people were using pepper and charcoal, but because one of the so-called magicians met a rather tragic end. He was identified by his victim and promptly lynched through mob violence.
Sometime last year, the ‘Spectator’ carried a front page exclusive of a man with a tribal mark who does not cherish using violence to earn a living. The man, it was alleged, made lucrative business by dressing like a woman, with slit and kaba, and high-heeled stiletto shoes, complete with make-up and earrings. I wonder what really was attractive about this muscular gentleman, no matter the finesse with which he executed the make-up and the power with which he wriggled his buttocks when walking. Anyhow, he made a tidy sum duping unsuspecting men before being told enough was enough.
In a bid to burgle a business executive in a quiet residential area, a man uses a ladder to enable him get access to the top chamber at about 2a.m, unfortunately for the thief, the executive boss does not sleep with both ears. One ear is, therefore, alive like a 24-hour radio frequency. He hears the sound as the thief works his way upstairs via the ladder.
The man wakes up and descries a tall, bulky barrel chested human being, who could have passed for a gorilla, ascending a wooden ladder pitched against his window. He had never seen such a formidable figure.
However, as the thief nearly gets to the top, and with all his might pushes the man takes courage and with all his might pushes the ladder off his window. The criminal lands on his back with the ladder atop him, and barks like a dog although he is a perfect human being.
But he is also a professional. He quickly wakes up from the tragedy, wipes the sand off his face and hair, carries the ladder on his broad shoulders and trots dizzily away home to plan another strategy. After an alarm had been sounded for his arrest, he was nowhere to be found.
A boy of about 13 enters into a house and meets the children of a prosperous man whose wife is a businesswoman. The boy tells the children that he has been sent by their mother to carry the video set to a repairer. The children become sceptical, because the video set is in excellent condition.
Anyhow, the teenager convinces them that the repairer had to put something right somewhere. The children are too willing and allowed the smiling adolescent to carry away their beautiful set to improve the picture quality.
Their mother returns at dusk and denies ever sending a boy to the house. Up till this day neither the video set nor the boy has been found.
The latest episode was reported in the Ghanaian Times by Francis Gasu, some three weeks back.
A woman meets two girls at the Kwame Nkrumah Circle, Accra, on their way to buy exercise books at the premises of New Times Corporation. She advises the elder of the two to remove whatever money they were having in their ladies’ bag, to keep it safe by wrapping it in some pieces of paper. She asks them to put the money into a nylon sack -they were holding, and to hurry since according to her, thieves were following them.
The girls indeed hurry. But when they got to New Times and decided to take out the GH¢36,000 wrapped in the papers, the money is absent, the papers intact. So magically dangerous! They came weeping and became confounded at this magical gimmickry perpetuated by a seemingly innocent and helpful woman.
There are thieves and criminals of different grades making money by relying on the gullibility of the native. When a thief enters a court room, he is the most dangerous of his calibre. And when a thief wields a ladder, it is an indication that he knows his job.
A man in brown overall with a ladder firmly held onto his shoulder, begs his way through the capacity crowd present to witness a long-awaited trial. He is allowed into the courtroom and he bows to the judge who solemnly acknowledges the reverence.
He unloads his tall ladder and puts it against the wall as court proceedings were underway. He climbs the ladder and screws out the large beautiful wall clock that had stopped working some two weeks back. The man must be a repairer and his forehead looks like that of a very efficient watch repairer.
He descends the ladder with the clock, puts the ladder on his shoulder, bows again to the judge and is given way to pass. That has been the end of the beautiful clock and the efficient repairer who incidentally does not have thick lips.
These are all true stories which have occurred at one time or the other. They are the perfect substitutes for armed robbery. The thieves come in many forms and guises. They use brains and magic when the going becomes tough.
Be on your guard and save your property!
This article was first published on Saturday October 13, 1990.
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
