Features
Peace, be still
![• The elephant and the umbrella must not be enemies, they must dine together](https://thespectatoronline.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/The-elephant-and-the-umbrella-must-not-be-enemies-they-must-dine-together.jpg)
In certain parts of Africa, you can’t walk for 100 metres without looking over your shoulders twice. May be you’re a top-ranker of a political group and a member of an opposition or rival group might be following you with the intention of putting a bullet into your bloody head.
So when you look back and you see about four people following you rather closely, you’ll start wondering which of them is the killer. You’ll get confused and in an attempt to identify the assassin, you’ll start defining the word ‘Killer’. How does the forehead of a killer look like? Do killers have high intelligence quotients, and are they supposed to be married?
When someone calls you from behind, you’ll be tempted either to bark or to take off like an Olympic athlete. Just as you are about to decide which is safer of the two, you will realise that the caller is a friend. You breathe easily now. But you still have to examine his eyebrows to see if it fits the definition of a killer.
It may also be that your style of walking suggests you’re a rebel and must be gunned down before you start misbehaving. The fact is that, rebels are very stylish and it shows in their gait.
Imagine you closed from work and you were having a nice time with your friends and just then two hooded fellows entered the joint and started spraying everybody with a Kalashnikov AK 47 rifle. Stampede, Press reports-18 people died, 12 critically injured, Bar man’s head blown off, and his daughter in hospital in critical condition with an amputated thigh.
Sounds impossible isn’t it? But it is happening in Angola, Togo (which is next door), Liberia, Mozambique, all because of political misunderstandings and socio-politico- economic nonsense.
In Sikaman, the Hand of God is stretched over the territory. Peace be still! God is with us, and we must be thankful.
When a cloud of controversy formed over the results declared at the presidential polls, many chanted war songs, some silently, and there was cause for concern. The atmosphere was charged with looming violence.
The opposition refused to contest the parliamentary elections and all thought that was a prelude to civil war. The Christians prayed, Moslems worshipped, Buddhists chanted and Krishnas sang. The time- bomb was defused, and tension fizzled out. And there was peace, heavenly peace, nothing but peace.
It is most commendable that although possible strife was forecast, the opposition displayed maturity and today, you can drink in a beer bar without any fear of your head being blown off by an idiot.
Even for us journalists who close late at night, there is no fear. I’ve discharged my bodyguard because I am not in any real danger. Moreover, he has been demanding double pay and I’ve also been reminding him that he is not a civil servant. “Only Civil Servants have the constitutional right to demand double pay, don’t you know?” I often tell him.
He also tells me he is going to buy a copy of the 1992 Constitution to look for the clause on double payment. I pity him because it would take him a life-time to track down the clause since it doesn’t exist, anyway, I’ve paid him off handsomely though and given him an over-coat as his end-of-service benefit.
The whole palaver that journalists are vulnerable and relatively more endangered than any other human breed. Fact is that not everything we write go down well with everybody. Some of our pieces cannot be swallowed, much more digested without the swallower vomiting his or her intestines out.
Because of this we make friends just as we make enemies. And with journalism someone can be a friend today and an enemy tomorrow just because you have stepped a bit on his last toe, without asking permission.
Sometimes some people are both friends and enemy simultaneously and they are the most dangerous because when a person slaps you in the dark, you’d wonder how a friend could slap you that hard.
The kind of letters and messages we receive these days demand that I go in search of my bodyguard whom I pensioned not quite long ago. He has the capacity and ability of identifying enemies and potential enemies because he has a third eye. And I like him because he is a south-paw and has very good reflexes.
The only problem, however, is that I have to feed him twice daily and he has a helluva appetite. This means the budgetary allocation covering his stomach alone is not a ‘small thing.” Anyhow, it is all for my good because when he is bellyful he automatically gyrates into a third degree alert. When he sees anybody getting close to me he growls like a tiger, and I nod my head in appreciation. That’s the spirit!
Yes, as I was saying, government and opposition have made it possible for peace to prevail in our dear country such that the security of everybody’s left ear is guaranteed. Anyway if you feel that yours is not, you may go and insure it for any eventuality. There are many insurance companies in town.
In any case, it is unlikely that violence would erupt in foreseeable future. The New Patriotic (NPP) is doing all its best to engage in proper rapport with the government, and I bet you that is a really encouraging sign of co-operation.
The elephant and the umbrella must not be enemies. They must dine together. Politics is not a war. It is a game and even dogs play it better than humans. The dog says, ‘When I fall for you and you fall for me, there is no palaver’.
Fact is that no one party is going to rule forever, so why not cooperate with each other to make democracy meaningful in the country? I salute the NPP for the prudent overtures towards reconciliation, understanding and peace.
However, I must say I was disappointed when a leading member of the party went abroad ostensibly to paint Sikaman rather black to potential investors. I was terribly disappointed because I respect him for his intellect.
He must know that the country is not for only Jerry Jot Rawlings or for NDC. It is for everybody including himself. So to go about discouraging investors from doing business in the country just because Jerry Rawlings is in power is not sane politics. It doesn’t speak well of him, and the country deserves an apology.
This article was first published on Saturday, August 21, 1993
Features
Prostitution in Sikaman -1
![• Prostitution is more pliable on mobile phones and E-mails](https://thespectatoronline.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Prostitution-is-more-pliable-on-mobile-phones-and-E-mails.webp)
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](https://thespectatoronline.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Untitled.png)
‘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