Of predictions and a happy new year

For Fifty-two weeks, my pen has been dancing. Precisely, for 3,654 days, my pen has been on its toes doing one jig after the other, keeping this column warm and smiling. My pen, however, developed flat-foot when I was commissioned to cover the National Debate in late August and early September. After three weeks, this column boomed back to life with WOES OF A SIKAMAN JOURNALIST.

And who says journalists in the territory of gold do not have woes? If they are not married before 1991, they can no longer marry. None of the male journalists can afford an engage­ment ring if he relies solely on his pay. Anyhow, it would be a disaster to re­main a bachelor. Remember MARRIAGE PALAVER of MAY 26. ? I wrote:

“Before my friend Kofi Kokotako became a married man, he was an eligible bachelor in his own case. He had gone to the bank clutching his briefcase to withdraw some money. 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.

“Not to reveal contents, he opened it slightly and poked his fingers into the upper compartment to retrieve 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.

“……Scattered far and wide were palmnuts (about one olonka in quanti­ty), plantain, cassava, pepper, toma­to, fish… and four crabs that sought instant 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… Kototako (a bachelor) had wanted to prepare palmnut soup that would last him some three days.

Such an incident is likely to happen to a bachelor journalist in 1991 if steps are not taken to do something about their income. I also have anoth­er prediction for 1991.

Most Guinness and beer drinkers will shift compulsorily to become faithful patrons of local bitters –“peters.” The mahogany brand which is reputed as best for kooko and waist-pains will become the favourite of high class executives whose sedentary jobs and lack of exercise make them develop locked waist. It is far cheaper too.

This reminds me of ALCOHOL ADDIC­TION &THE X’MAS COMATOSE.

“To go the local-gin way is quite un­derstandable …the alcoholic economy of equivalents shows that the alcoholic horsepower of GH¢40 of akpeteshie (raw) is equal to that of the one bottle of beer which costs GH¢240.”

Mind you, it is 320 in some bars today. 1991 one is the year for lot­to-stakers.

They will see the kingdom of money. I had a dream on this, and the dream was entitled LOTTO PALAVER:

“Ever since this episode, Korkorti has become a lotto addict, a lotto forecaster, a lotto magician, editor in-chief of a lotto paper and chairman of the Sikaman

Lotto Winners Association (SLWA), I hear there is also an association called the Sikaman Lotto Losers Association (SLLA).”

I predict that many journalists would join one of these associations in a des­perate bid to increase their incomes.

The incidence of rape will not de­cline in 1991 because punishment for rapists are still not deterrent enough. In PUNISHMENT FOR A RAPIST, it could be read:

“.A castrated rapist is no danger to organised society. Fact is that he can bark but he cannot bite. Even a strip-tease dancer can no longer arouse him. And sooner or later, he would become so fat and oily that he’d be more famous as a superheavyweight than as a dreaded rapist… l am against castration, though.”

The West African Examinations Council (WAEC) will take drastic steps in 1991 to stall the incidence of LEAK­AGES AND ACADEMIC DYSENTERY.

“Dear Sir, this very paper you are marking is under massive leakage, and I know that people are going to blow it paaa. But as for me, although I also had all the questions, I am as daft as a live sheep. My father has no brains whatever in his big head. As for my mother, the least said about her, the better. And as you know that a dog does not beget a cat, I was born an idiot.

“So when I got the questions, I didn’t know what to do with them. Will you please therefore consider and pass me too. Otherwise, I alone will die of academic dysentery. Thanks for your usual cooperation. Yours faithful­ly…”

Dear reader, what do I have for FASHION CRAZE IN SIKAMAN for next year:

“If by the year 2,000, you enter into an office of a managing director, and you see a bearded man complete with thick moustache dressed in kaba and slit, don’t be shocked. He is still a mister. His only problem is that he is abreast with the times.”

Partly due to the ‘GOLF’ crisis and its attendant worsening of national economies, the incidence of corrup­tion in Sikaman is going to escalate dramatically and many will be brought to book. THE CORRUPTION SAGA of­fered the following:

“The spotlight of criticism is so much centred on the police that the corrupt practices of doctors, teachers, civil servants, customs officials etc. are never known.”

Indeed, in 1991, the lid over the corruption soup pot is going to be lifted and the contents revealed to the general public. Keep abreast with press reports. There will be an at­tempt to ease the housing problems in Sikaman. Landlords, as a result, will become more liberal with the rules and regulations as said in HOUSING IN SIKAMAN:

“Second set of rules and regulations. Thou shall not cook koobi or momoni in the house, because I (the landlord), am allergic to such unholy smell; no singing in the housing when the land­lord is enjoying his siesta, no tenant must laugh like a rich man; you are allowed to sneeze only on Sundays and public holidays.”

Incidentally, I am in need of ac­commodation (not less than two large rooms) and would welcome an offer in Accra, where the advance payment would not be above sea level.

Confidence tricksters, are likely to triple in number, regarding their profession as a lucrative alternative to armed-robber which attracts the death-penalty. However, burglaries will not die out as CRIMINALS AND GULLIBLE NATIVES meet face to face:

“However, as the thief nearly gets to the top, the man takes courage and with all his might, pushes the ladder off his window. The criminal lands on his back, and barks like a dog although he is a perfect human being.”

“But he is also professional. He quickly wakes up from the tragedy, wipes the sand off his face and hair, carries the ladder over his broad shoulders and trots dizzily away to plan another strategy.”

THE DAWN PREACHERS are going to increase in number as the aluta on satan continues unabated. But, “… the preachers must realise that preaching against fornication alone will not help stop the spread of AlDS for instance because people are always going to mate anyway. So, after preaching against fornication, the preachers must go on to educate their hearers on the deadliness of the AIDS, how it is spread and what precautionary measures to take.”

My name is still a mystery to read­ers. The pronunciation especially. Many think I am either a Zimbabwean, Namibian, Tanzanian, or Rwandan. Some say I’m a refugee journalist. So very amusing.

On June 17, 1989, THE NAME UNDER SIEGE appeared in the “Spectator”.

I went to a clinic sometime back and a nurse came to mention names so that we could form a queue before seeing the doctor. She hesitated so much over my name. For good three minutes, she tried and failed; she frowned, coughed, fidgeted and nearly passed wind before she managed to croak; Mary Lomotey.”

“… I went to collect drugs from the dispensary. A Hausa man was the chair­man of the department. He looked at the name and nearly collapsed when he ventured mentioning it. “Ferari Alomeli,” he fumbled out terribly. I immediately wondered whether he was suffering from river-blindness.

“Haven’t you gone for treatment,” I asked him smiling.

“What treatment?” he retorted, rather perplexed. “For river blind­ness.”

“What are you talking about,” he asked quite

angrily.

You’re seeing Merari and you’re calling it Ferari.

Ferari is a name of a car, so l thought you were a victim of riv­er-blindness.”

You’re a fool to tell me that,” he yelled at me. Till this day, ALOMELE IS still pronounced by some people “LIMELIGHT” but I’m not quite both­ered. What I’m bothered about is the financial mourning that took place during X’mas, and what most people are going to face in January.

And till then I wish all lovers of my column a happy and prosperous New Year.

This article was first published on Saturday, December 29, 1990.