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Matters of the heart

Sikaman Palava

 Perhaps Indians are the greatest lovers. The fact is that they have got time for love just as they have time for work and sleep. An Indian male who is head over heels in love with a damsel can spend three hours every day singing love songs and dancing just to express his love. And the girl, if she is not convinced, will just sit down looking at him won­dering if he is not out of his mind.

So the boy will need a lot of stamina to do three hours a day just expressing and portraying love. When the girl finally agrees to be in love, she also has to join and do three hours. Just watch Indian films and you’ll realise that matters of the heart cannot be toyed with in that country.

I guess the incidence of broken hearts there will also be very high because when love between two peo­ple becomes too intense, the rela­tionship crumbles sooner than anyone would expect.

It is also possible that half the cases of broken hearts in India end up at the mental hospitals because of the way they handle love.

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“What actually is disturbing you?” the psychiatrist would ask a new victim.

“Sir, I fell in love with a young woman and she jilted me. Later, I saw her in the arms of an ugly man, and so I’ve decided to grow mad until further notice.”

Yes, love is one of the greatest forces we have in the world. That is why when a man with a cutlass in hand catches another man on top of his wife, he’ll instantly become a butcher specialising in human bare-backs and legs. He would hack the man to pieces before realising that butchering is not his profession.

And when he is charged in court for manslaugh­ter, he’ll explain mat­ters to the judge.

“Your honour, the man whom I butchered to death really deserved it. He is not fit to live because he reaps where he has not sown. Your honour, I had to borrow large sums of money to enable me marry this woman. I buy her Valen­tine cards every year, and spend a great deal furnishing her with cloths and jelly-curl kits. In fact I love her like gari and shito.

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“When I travelled and returned earlier than planned, I came to meet this man with a barrel chest and a slim but active waist enjoying my wife to the fullest. So your honour, it was out of extreme provocation that I quickly decided to be a butcher on the occasion, and I think I did a good job of it.

“Your honour, I never knew I was such a good butcher till I worked on the man. But if you say it is not good, then I hold your foot. Next time, I won’t kill the person. I’ll only hack off his legs and tell him not to be silly next time.”

In cases of this nature, the judge is normally sympathetic because he (the judge) might have done worse things if he had found a macho-man dancing top of his flexible wife.

“You should have exercised re­straint. You don’t kill someone just because you’ve found him sleeping with your wife?” the judge would say just short of adding that he would have castrated the man if he were the accused. “So you’ll go in for eight months.”

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If he had his own way, he would have concluded. “Next time you catch an idiot on top of your wife, don’t kill him, maim him! You get the point? “

Yes love, just like hatred is a real force to reckon with. For this rea­son, Valentine’s Day is well observed in most countries especially the advanced countries where people are accustomed to certain romantic gim­micks. It is a day for lovers and it has a short but varying history behind it.

In Africa, most people do not care about Valentine because they are preoccupied with seeking the king­dom of the stomach. If you remind someone of Valentine’s Day, he’ll ask you, “ibi Valentine you go chop?”

Last Sunday was Valentine’s Day and some people celebrated it, I don’t know how properly the peo­ple celebrated it. I don’t know how properly the celebration was done in each respective case. People sent out cards; someone probably ex­pected card from me that she never got, and I didn’t get a card myself, but life continues all the same, and love perpetuates.

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In retrospect, I think the type of love we experienced when we were schoolboys and girls, was far more exciting than anything happening on Valentine’s Day. It was devoid of intimacy but fully of abstract values and imaginings about a loved one you regarded not as a mortal, but a celestial being.

Most often you had to write a love letter to the girl in decent handwriting and of course you didn’t expect a reply. But the thrill of hav­ing sent your lover something to read which probably ended in poem you composed yourself was more satisfy­ing.

But immediately you delivered the letter through a friend, you started praying that the girl should never send the letter to the class teacher for redress. And any time the teach­er called you, you were startled, thinking the girl had delivered the contraband. If she did, then trouble awaited you.

I wrote one of such letters with a poem at the tail end but never found the courage to send it to my dream lover. I hid it in my science note-book for weeks debating in my mind whether or not the girl would report me if I dared send it to her.

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One day, the girl told me she had received the letter. Which letter? Of course the one I wrote. I looked puzzled.

“Didn’t you write me any letter,” she asked. “I did, but…”

I needed to check my notebook to see if the letter was intact. I looked for it for almost two hours to my dis­may that someone had rather deliv­ered the letter on my behalf.

I went back to the girl, and asked her who gave her the letter. Of course, it was a close friend of mine who found it in my notebook and who realising that I was apprehensive about sending it, mischievously did so on my behalf. I was lucky it didn’t wind up on the table of the class teacher.

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Love goes beyond affection for the opposite sex or love for another human being, like motherly love, brotherly love, etc. There is one important thing which is called LOVE FOR ONE’S COUNTRY. When it is ex­cessive, it is called JINGOISM.

Yes, it is necessary that everybody should have a fair amount of a love for his or her country. Ghanaians love their country so much, and that is why they support their national teams whenever they are on any as­signment that would bring in national honours.

Those who do not love their country are those who do not want sustained progress and development. They include corrupt officials, em­bezzlers of state funds and of course those who incite and promote vio­lence. They want to destroy Sikaman just because they have not found the means to personal aggrandizement.

They should not pretend they love the country because they do not wish the country any good.

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Let us show love for our country and maintain the peace that we have always enjoyed. For, the love for one’s country supersedes all.

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Prostitution in Sikaman -1

• Prostitution is more pliable on mobile phones and E-mails
• Prostitution is more pliable on mobile phones and E-mails

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
Sikaman Palava

‘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.

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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.”

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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?

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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.’

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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.

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“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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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