Features
Marriage palaver -Part 1
Marriage is still a scared institution
These days, to marry in a decent acceptable way to both God and man is a well-nigh impossible feat, unless you go in for a bank loan which you can repay only after auctioning your father’s cocoa farm.
It is for this reason that young men in Sikaman are scared of marriage unless it could be contracted free of charge, which is unheard-of. In spite of this, young men continue to breed children, because the biological process of reproduction must continue with or without bank loans.
The growing incidence of producing children out of wedlock is rather alarming. However, nothing can be done to help the situation because one cannot expect a man of about 35 who is unemployed to wait till manna falls from heaven before getting married, to begin procreation. In similar manner, it would be unfair to expect a woman to grow bald before getting a first- born.
In any case, however, marriage is still regarded as a sacred institution. And to make it feasible for young men to marry in order to preserve the sanctity of this institution, many communities are waiving the high bride wealth associated with their marriage.
Many fathers-in-law are condescending enough to accept anything reasonable to get their ageing daughters off their neck.
But some in-laws think differently. They believe that before a maiden leaves her paternal home to co-habit with a man, she must have been wedded in pomp and ostentation so that observers would become aware of her ‘social standing whether she is a beauty queen, or has the kind of face that is akin to a sad vulture.
Quite paradoxically, such expensive marriages do not last. Immediately the honeymoon is consummated, husband and wife are seen clutching at each other’s throat because of a trivial misunderstanding that could be solved peacefully in bed.
Before my good friend, Kofi Kokotako, became a married man, he was an eligible bachelor in his own class. The parents of his girlfriend wanted an expensive wedding which he could not afford and therefore decided to do away with the girl altogether.
Kokotako was an insurance executive then. One day, sported in a three-piece suit that fitted perfectly, he carved his way through the city crowd into a bank holding his briefcase tightly.
It was about 1:55 pm when he got to the bank and he smiled rather broadly to whoever will welcome it. Many admired his suit and moccasin shoes and long black tie to match. He was the perfect gentleman coming to withdraw money for the week-end.
Standing to allow for a little reflection, Kokotako remembered that his cheque-book was stuck deep in an obscure compartment of his beautiful briefcase. He had made a mistake, he thought. He should have removed that damn cheque-book long ago and put it into his breast-pocket. To open the briefcase now in the full glare of fellow citizens of Sikaman would amount to revealing his marital status without being asked to.
Kofi Kokotako, however, managed to open the briefcase after placing it lightly on his left thigh as he half-stooped not to reveal the contents; he opened it slightly and poked his fingers into the upper compartment intent on retrieving that hell of a cheque book.
He was furious at it, and in this fit of anger, coupled with a little awkwardness, the entire briefcase lost balance and over-turned. Lo and behold, disaster had struck Kokotako.
Customers of the bank and officials immediately gathered around to see with their very eyes the terrible sight that lay at their feet. Scattered far and wide were palm-nuts (about one olonka in quantity), plantain, some cassava, pepper, tomato, onion and fish. The rest were maggi-cube, garden eggs and four large crabs that sought instance refuge from their predicament. The crabs now sped in different directions to seek political asylum in the nearest territory. They had nearly gone out of breath in the tight briefcase. In fact, Kokotako had wanted to prepare some palm- nut soup that would last him for some three days.
Now, as he held onto the empty briefcase in consternation and quite oblivious of what to do next, a smart lady helped to pack back the contraband while the crowd burst into some good laughter. The day was hot and this nice incident, provoked more than a good amount of mirth and helped cool down their bodies.
As the fast lady chased one of the crabs, hell broke loose again. The crab raced with all its might, determined to avoid Kokotako’s soup-pot. Presently, it sought momentary peace under a seat in the open space of the bank, but the lady was also determined to extract it.
It was now time for some hide and seek, as spectators cheered and closely followed this lady-versus- crab contest. A sort of who-is-who. Not too long thereafter, the experienced lady captured the crab and returned it. However, before she got to the briefcase in triumph, the stubborn crab twisted slightly, and with an adjusted left claw held onto the middle finger of the lady in a wild attempt to snap it off, and damn the consequences.
The lady yelled maniacally before flinging of the wicked creature. A new dimension of the melodrama became underway and this was greeted with loud laughter from shocked spectators.
As the crab got thrown, it landed into a group of spectators who did not know it was coming their way. A stampede began almost immediately as all scattered in fear of the giant crab which had extra-large claws. Kokotako had done a good selection for the largest crab for his palm nut soup.
Kofi Kokotako was now confused. He closed his briefcase in disappointment, and with a face like a rainy-day left the bank premises cursing and threatening to close his account with the bank.
Whether the dangerous crab was eventually disarmed and carried away to custody, or whether it became a terrorist and took the bank officials hostage while brandishing a powerful left claw, or whether it was granted political asylum with stipend, I do not know. What I know is that, before my friend Kotoko was married, he was a bachelor who did not enjoy eating in a chop-bar.
He enjoyed preparing his own food, and had gone to the market straight from the office that day with a rubber bag. Later, he had packed the items and the crab into his briefcase before making it to the bank to withdraw some cash. It was there that the unexpected happened to his bitter disappointment.
Bachelorship had done my friend the greatest injustice. After that incident, he decided that if he did not take steps to get married immediately, worse things would happen to him.
God save Kokotako of Sikaman
This article was first published On Saturday May 25, 1990
Features
Old folks and human suffering
The aged
Grey hair is an honour from God, says my uncle, Kofi Jogolo, whose moustache the world admires. Unfortunately, his moustache is not grey. However, my dear, uncle who is a petty bourgeoisie is greying at the temples, which according to him is a sign of wisdom, reverence and honour. To me, it is also an indication that he is gradually nearing ‘home’ to render a comprehensive account of his life to his Creator.
Indeed, the principles of accountability and probity transcend grey hairs and moustache, and wind up in St Peter’s Heaven.
Anyone who is getting close to the age of 60 can rightly claim the grey hair status. But in Sikaman for instance, to be a living member of the grey hair fraternity is a privilege and not a right. This is because the average life span of humans today is 49 years, and the average in Third World countries is much lower. Poverty alone can kill you at 27.
It is also of interest to note that journalists have the lowest average lifespan vis- a-vis other professional groups, according to a proven research.
In any case, the human species are better off than insects and animals. A mosquito lives for only six days and decides to call it quits. Most birds live for five years; and when a dog lives up to 10 years, it automatically becomes a liberal democrat. Why? Because it becomes so weak that it can no longer be a leftist watchdog of its master’s home. The poor dog becomes rather liberal to thieves and burglars.
So is it with human beings who clock 65 and above, especially when they have not eaten good for over six decades. According to the Bible, the human limit which has been divinely decreed is three score and 10, that is, 70. This appears discriminatory when we consider that Methuselah for instance lived for 969 years before agreeing to die.
CURSE
Back to Sikaman, anyone who flies past the age of 65 is considered an old- man (woman) whether he is well- nourished or takes ‘quarter’ on a regular basis.
To many, however, to be called an old person is rather a curse than a blessing. And of course nobody wants to be a pensioner for obvious reasons. So you see workers who are clearly over 70 years claiming to be 50 just to avoid retirement and its associated money palaver. But somehow, they are justified.
Fact is that, these days, nobody cares for the aged, and so they have to care for themselves. It was the quest to avoid this unfortunate situation that the HelpAge Ghana was formed last year as a voluntary organisation aimed at promoting the well-being of the aged and ageing in Sikaman.
When the second HelpAge Week was launched last weekend, I felt so sad to see on television, old men and women, some of whom could hardly work their rickety heels to help themselves about. Some really had to be assisted to walk.
HelpAge has come so timely, at a time when no one respects or cares for the aged. In times’ past, old folks were regarded as useful members of the society, imparting knowledge and wisdom to the younger generation, telling Ananse stories to enliven the evenings of little children.
But today, old people are regarded as nuisance. They are accused of being talkatives, always complaining of kooko, waist-pains, constipation, diarrhea, chronic catarrh and lack of good diet.
Their physical and mental infirmities associated with senescence, coupled with the high cost of fending for them, makes them unwanted in a rat-race society where man must live by sweet.
Some people really want their aged relatives to die quickly to relieve them of the burden of caring for them. They can’t afford to be feeding them every day like that! So unfortunate.
PROBLEMS
In the developed countries, however, because of problems that go with caring for the elderly in society, homes for the elderly are established in many communities, where the aged can live comfortably to enjoy their last days on earth. They are cared for, nourished and entertained.
In fact, there is a branch of medicine called GERONTOLOGY which is concerned with the processes of growing old, and there is what we call (GERIATRICS) which is the medical care of old people. Scholars are specialise in these fields because their society cares for the welfare of the aged.
HelpAge Ghana is a laudable idea and Sikaman natives must be awakened to their responsibility to the elderly. Those who also handle their pension claims must avoid the unnecessary delays. I remember, my old man had to go up and down for months before he was put on his rightful scale.
Now, instead of wishing our aged mothers, fathers and grand-parents to die so that we can get enough money to drink beer, let us contribute to HelpAge Ghana to get it firmly instituted.
That way when we are lucky to reach the three score and ten mark, we could also benefit from it. No one knows what the future has in store.
Sometime last year, I was privileged to attend a get-together of pensioners of UAC and management staff at the Ambassador Hotel. I am not a pensioner though. It was quite an interesting scene to see old men and women all over chatting animatedly, and reminiscing their good old days.
I was also quite impressed with how some of them attended to the gin, brandy and beer at the reception.
In contrast to this, it is so pathetic to see many old people in the capital of Sikaman begging for money to buy kenkey. They look dirty and unkempt carrying aloft their grey hairs. Let us find a means of helping out these elderly folks so that when our turn comes the good old Lord will have mercy upon us.
This article was first written was on Saturday October 6, 1990
Features
The anxiety of parents
I had a call from my daughter and addressing me in her rather unusual but affectionate way, by my official name as usual, she greeted me and asked about how I was doing and I responded and we exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Then her next statement caused my heart to start pounding. She said “Daddy, I am going out on a date.” This is one of the moments every parent becomes filled with anxiety. It is just like when your adult child comes to tell you that “I have met someone I would like to marry”.
I then started asking about when she met him, how long she had known him etc. Then she said “Daddy, I am just pulling a prank on you” and I heaved a sigh of relief. Every parent will tell you that one of their fears is who their children will marry in future.
Fear of the unknown, is the issue that brings the anxiety. Will this man be a good husband to my daughter? Is there a terrible hereditary disease in his family? What are his parents like and would they be caring in-laws to my daughter etc. etc.
Most parents do not worry too much when their child is a man as opposed to a female child. Furthermore, boys do not bring pregnancy home so if they go out and come home late, parents do not worry too much compared to when Maggie or Agatha or Lucy goes out and comes home late.
Our culture makes it easier for men to opt out of relationships so parents do not worry too much when a male children come to introduce their would-be spouses to them and there is no need to add that spouse here refers to a female, since our culture does not tolerate the insane antisocial behaviour affecting some societies including African ones.
Marriage must be between a male and a female, a man and a woman, as God who instituted and ordained it. The girls fall in love easily compared to the boys who mostly walk into love. I have not conducted a survey but I strongly believe that females suffer from heartbreaks more than males because of their emotional nature.
Another dimension to this anxiety of parents is the issue of mental problems which in some instances can lead to suicidal tendencies. Mental cases resulting from mental breakdowns abound in our communities and the victims are mostly female.
A woman I met while walking with a friend was a victim of a mental breakdown. The friend I was walking with, exchanged pleasantries with the said lady and it was apparent that they knew each other very well.
My friend, after we had parted company with the woman, narrated how her husband was engaged in womanising which compelled the woman to take a revenge on him.
She decided that the best way to also hurt her husband’s feelings was to have an affair with the husband’s driver. The affair became known to the husband and she was divorced. The dress she was wearing and her general appearance when we met her on the street showed clearly that all was not well mentally with her.
It was so sad and as a parent I started praying into the future of my children that they would get the right partners, God-fearing people to marry.
Another anxiety of parents is the character of their children’s life partners. Would they be kind people? Will they be people with bad tempers? Will they be wife beaters?
Domestic abuse is common in our society and you will be surprised at the calibre of the perpetrators. Some are well educated people, nicely dressed, when you meet them in public places you will never suspect that they are wife beaters.
Some are even pastors and yet they ignore the teachings of the Bible and maltreat their spouses. It is not only men who abuse their spouses but some women are abusers as well.
May God grant us and our children the gift of spirit of discernment so our children will make the right choices for us to also endorse.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
