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Tribute to Jim Macauley, the ‘workerhaulic’ journalist


MHB 975
When the day of toil is done,
When the race of life is run,
Father, grant Thy wearied one
Rest forevermore.
When the strife of sin is stilled,
When the foe within is killed,
Be thy gracious Word fulfilled;
Peace forevermore.
When the darkness melts away,
At the breaking of the day,
Bid us hail the cheering ray;
Light forevermore.
When the heart by sorrow tried,
Feel at length the throbs subside,
Bring us, where all tears are dried
Joy forevermore.
When the breath of life is flown,
When the grave must claim its own,
Lord of life, be ours Thy crown,
Life forevermore.
This Methodist hymn simply sums up the beginning and the end of mankind on this earth.
It is with the greatest heart and tribulation that I pay this special tribute to my brother, good friend and colleague of the inky fraternity, James Yao Macauley, a former Deputy Editor of the Ghanaian Times who makes his final journey to his ancestral home today, the 6th of March, 2021, which falls on Ghana’s Independence day anniversary celebration.
This day will forever go down in history as it will always ring a bell in the minds of his children, family members, friends and colleagues of the media.
Dubbed, a journey of no return, Jim Macoco, affectionately known by his close associates and friends, was called to eternity by his Maker on 24th December, 2020 being the birthday of his elder daughter, Celeste Eyram Macauley.
The funeral is being held this morning at the Transition Home at Haatso after which the body will be interred at the Achimota cemetery. Memorial Service will be held in his honour at the Pure Fire Ministries International near GIMPA, Kisiman junction at 10 am tomorrow and thence to his residence on the Passion Clinic road, Ogbojo.
I have decided to use this medium to eulogise this good friend and hard working colleague because of my closeness with him over the years. I have already shared few thoughts about my late friend in a series of tributes on my Facebook wall but I promised to pay special one at the appropriate time which is now.
The death of Jim came to me as a shock and a big blow because I hardly expected that so soon, although death is inevitable in one’s life. It came as a surprise because I spoke to him few days before he passed on.
He made an arrangement with me to attend a funeral ceremony of a former staff of the New Times Corporation (NTC) at a place called Israel, which is a suburb of Accra. He promised to join me from my residence at Mamprobi to that place.
The night to the funeral day, I called to confirm that I would be waiting for him for the trip. Indeed, he spoke to me on phone and nothing showed that he was unwell from the conversation we had.
The following morning which was Saturday, I had prepared for our journey when all of a sudden I had a call from him telling me that he could not make it because he was not feeling well. Since I had already prepared for the funeral, I advised him to rest whilst I attended the function.
To be frank, I was not myself at the event as I kept calling him to check how he was faring. His answers were so positive that I felt good that he was recovering fast. I made a follow up the following morning to which he assured me he was getting better. Hardly did I know that he was rather announcing his death to me in parables.
On 24th December, 2020, as I sat behind my dinner table around 8am having my breakfast, I received an unexpected call from the Editor of the Ghanaian Times newspaper, Mr. Dave Agbenu, who broke the sad news to me. I hesitated and cut short my breakfast.
I couldn’t believe it initially but after enquiring from Jim’s wife and also his elder brother, Humphrey, formerly of the Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC), it became clear that my good friend was really dead. From that day until now, I have never been myself as I kept wondering the root cause of his death.
Indeed, as I keep saying, the good Lord knew best and he had answers as to why He had called him at this opportune time when his services would be mostly needed to groom young and upcoming journalists because of his deep knowledge and rich experience in the journalism profession.
Jim was my deputy when I was the editor of the Ghanaian Times newspaper and I knew how experienced he was especially in newspaper layouts, page planning and sub-editing. The two of us did not allow our retirement to affect our journalism profession because we believed that we had the potentials, skills and the strength to forge ahead.
No wonder, we had a lot of offers from some people within the society to assist in the publication of journals and magazines meant to shape the society. We took up the challenge and we came out with two sets of attractive and beautiful magazines which we duly registered with the National Media Commission (NMC).
The African Network Magazine and The Public Official Magazine of which I am the editor and he was the Director of Production in both cases. His handiworks are available for those who want to see them.
Jim, you mentored a lot of young journalists during your hey day in the field of writing and reporting in the arts and culture because of your vast interest in that field of journalism.
Many were those journalists from the Ghanaian Times and The Spectator newspapers who could testify that you assisted them to win most of the awards instituted by the Ghana Journalists Association (GJA) in the years past. You exhibited brilliance in your assigned duties and loved by all those who came into contact with your work.
Mr. Edward Abi-George, a former Chief Sub-Editor of the NTC under whom you acquired greater skills in your work and also your mentor, was proud of you because you put into practice all that he taught you.
My empathy goes to his wife Lily and children, Celeste Eyram, James Elorm and Charlotte Fafa Macauley, for this great loss. I pray that the good Lord will continue to console them during this difficult times.
My brother Jim, you came, you saw and you had conquered, paid your dues also to society and I pray that the good Lord would protect your soul and grant you eternal rest. Till we meet again, fare thee well. Adieu, adieu.
Let me end this tribute with the first, second and the fourth stanzas of the Methodist hymn 976.

Now the laborer’s task is o’er;
Now the battle day is past;
Now upon the further shore
Land the voyager at last
Refrain:
Father, in thy gracious keeping
Leave we now thy servant sleeping.
Amen.
There the tears of earth are dried,
There its hidden things are clear,
There the work of life is tried
By a just judge than here; [Refrain]

‘Earth to earth, and dust to dust,’
Calmly now the words we say;
Leaving him to sleep in trust,
Till the resurrection day; [Refrain]

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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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