Features
Of moods & anger
Sikaman Palava
My bosom friend Kofi Kokotako had the ‘impudence’ of a dead cock-roach. It was at a food-eating competition where he surprised the devil himself. Yes, Mr James Lucifer was awed because Kofi ate like a demon and won the competition hands down.
He started with six hefty balls of kenkey and palmnut soup. Soon after, he followed it with eba and okro soup which he swallowed like a hungry Yoruba carpenter.
The quantity could have satisfied three famishing construction labourers.
He relaxed a bit and requested for ten pieces of cooked cocoyam with kontomire stew when all the other competitors had long retired. Like a savage, he crushed the large pieces between his jaws and every- body applauded. Presently he announced that he was not half-satisfied.
He ordered one big loaf of butter-bread and four large cups of a popular beverage and finished it all in record time, as spectators gaped at the spectacle. Everybody began wondering whether Kokotako was some kind of food-god.
He now relaxed completely and of course, everyone thought he was done with. Then he surprised all when he took hold of a tuber of yam and started peeling it, saying that it was for dessert. Soon the yam was cooked and it all disappeared down his long throat with garden egg stew.
Not long thereafter, a small boy was eating kokonte and groundnut soup nearby and Kokotako collected it from him amidst laughter: He devoured it gleefully while the boy cried for the loss of his food.
Kofi Kokotako won the competition and was honoured with a trophy and ¢300 in those days when the cedi was powerful. But it was not too long after the presentation ceremony when he confided in me that he was feeling dizzy. I suggested to him that he should order mashed kenkey to clear the dizziness and he retorted that I was a fool.
“Do you want to kill me?” he asked. “This is a killer advice. Mashed kenkey on top of all these?”
It was then that I realised that my good friend was not a food-god, after all. Before I was aware Kokotako had crashed to the floor. Collapsed. There was an uproar! The champion was dying! Someone said his hernia had come, and another said that the food was boozing him like akpeteshie.
Anyhow, he was carried to the hospital and the doctor gave him an emetic which made him throw-up. The doctor’s report stated that it was unbelievable a human being of the stature of Master Kokotako could consume such quantity.
He added that the dangerous boy probably vomited more than he ate, a miracle of a rare kind.
When he recuperated, the doctor interviewed him. Asked why he ate so much, he replied that he wanted to win the contest hands down and stomach out.
“Under normal circumstances, how many balls of kenkey can you eat at one sitting?”
“Only about six balls at a sitting.”
“Is it a family disease or is it peculiar to you only?”
“Sir, it is not a family disease. It is a gift from God.”
Yeah, Kofi Kokotako was and is a trencherman, with an unusual capacity for food. That is why when he wakes up from bed and has not taken his almighty break- fast he would frown and not respond to any greeting.
When he was in Form Three, his father called him at dawn and advised him. “My son,” he said, “I’ve realised that you’ve got talent in dealing with food. In fact, you are more than a bush-pig. So I’ll advise you to take your Agricultural Science studies very, very seriously. Don’t joke with it at all because it is the key to your future happiness, since you have a problem with your stomach.
“I want to be a cook instead,” Kokotako suggested.
“If you don’t produce food, how can you cook it?”
If Kokotako had been a parliamentarian in the Fourth Republic, he would have been dozing all throughout the daily sessions after having breakfast weighing several kilos. And I hope that none of our parliamentarians is following in the footsteps of my friend as far as matters of the stomach are concerned.
Parliament is a place of serious legislative business and there is no room for dozers. At the moment, parliamentarians are vetting ministerial nominees who, when approved of, will become ministers plenipotentiary of the state.
And I guess they have started doing a good job, and not dozing. Now, to vet somebody means that you should be able to know him inside out.
During the revolution, secretaries of state were not vetted because where was the parliament to vet them? They were simply appointed and didn’t even undergo medical exam before they took post.
But this time, it is becoming quite different and I urge, the Committee to employ the use of spirito-electronic X’rays which can bring out past moral activities of the nominees.
We want our ministers to be men of proven integrity and high moral standing. Some of them have one wife but three concubines. As for the girlfriends, no way; they don’t even know the names of some of them. They just come and go.
A minister of such reputation will obviously not be putting up his best because he would be pre- occupied with grabbing money to satisfy his numerous women.
Nominees should also be tested for alcoholism because any minister who imbibes more than the alcoholic equivalent of four bottles of beer a day will not be a responsible person as far as diligence and hardwork are concerned.
Their hands should also be examined to see if they’ve been tainted with stealing state money or misapplying it. They should also be examined for their food habits. A minister whose capacity is comparable to that of Kofi Kokotako and eats heavy kokonte at six o’clock in the morning is certain to doze all day long and therefore cannot handle ministerial affairs.
What about parliamentarians? They have already been vetted by their people, and what is now at hand borders on their salary. And I think they are aware that their job is sacrificial and not of luxury.
They must, however, be paid well so that they can afford coffee and toasted bread at breakfast to make them smart at the assembly. If not, a majority of them will continue eating heated left-over banku and when the Speaker of Parliament asks one why he has been dozing regularly, he’d reply:
“Mr Speaker, I ate yesterday’s banku early this morning and I guess the corn dough fermented a bit too much. Please, pay us quickly and then we can avoid fermentation and take oats, milk and jam before coming to the assembly.”
Yes the salary of parliamentarians. Anything between ¢180,000 and ¢250,000 will do for them. If they are fighting for more than that, then it means that they have no feeling for the country.
They must know that because of the rise in the salaries of civil servants, the country is broke. Also, some workers are earning ¢20,000 a month and so ¢250,000 for a parliamentarian who is doing sacrificial work should suffice.
I wish the parliamentarians a happy term and urge them to deliberate on issues very objectively and me to good conclusions to avoid the legislature being labelled as a one-party parliament.
This article was first published March 17, 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