The Closed Concept of ‘Spouse’

Kwame is completing groundwork ‘government’ forms. At “Marital Status” he smoothly ticks “Married”. At “Beneficiary” he smilingly scribbles “Spouse”, but slowly stops where he must provide a name. Kwame has affectionately cohabited with his Jo for five flourishing years now. They’ve built a life together, but now he cannot put his name down: Spouse: Richard Kojo etc etc.

Two Man-Parents

Jo kisses his son’s little head, amazed, riveted by his penetrating questions. In a weird-but-wonderful way, such waltzing wittiness reminds Jo of his magnificent Kwame. On that touching, tender thought, Kwame floats down the stairs and sails across the living room floor to Jo. Kwame gives Jo a caress on the lips, and involves their son in a long, warm hug. Suddenly, Jo wakes up; it was a taunting dream, and Kwame is still fast asleep beside him. Jo sits up on the bed. He has woken up still in Ghana; there is no child! He and his Kwame cannot adopt.

Same-Sex Relationships

I am sitting here with a gay man sitting across from my office desk. He met me when I went to a radio station to give a talk on defamation. He said I inspired him, and he wanted me to be his mentor. It is clear that he is gay. And somebody who went to college with him (and knows him) has confirmed it. But that’s no problem at all, except he had better concentrate on me mentoring him professionally, only. This week, we will be exploring same-sex relationships from (hopefully) interesting points of view.

2009

In 2009, these are fair statistics:

2 thousand relationships ‘attacked’
0 go unscathed
0 remain unshaken
9 barely survive

Much of Accra is going after other people’s people. That is aggression!

Dangerous Games

“Would you please get up? This is the seat number on my ticket.”

First, he ignores you. At the subdued second asking, he stands erect and beats his chest to proclaim his gorilla ruggedness. You make a good choice, and, as you inch your pacific way out of the stadium of sneak thieves, King-Kong kerfuffles erupt all around you over stolen seats.

Downtown Dementia

In the gawky gridlock, your tomfool tailgater will honk a homily at you; a blighted bus on your blind side will edge in without warning; a daredevil driver will cannily convert the dividing line into a Harry-Potteresque Lane 1¾; a police cortege (sorry, convoy) will come screaming through; and you’ll be praying to Gideon’s God to spare your limbs and car from fractures, dents and scratches.

Trolley Tussles

The Trotro halts harrowingly in the middle of a major street, and a nursing mother hops out. She drops her shrieking suckling on the pavement, and seizes the reptilian driver’s mate by the scruff of his neck. As the callused captive tries to escape her grasp by aiming kung-fu kicks at her nether notch, another woman gathers up the abandoned nestling. Stranger and foundling are soon enveloped by the madding crowd.

Another Trotro has not even come to a serene stop, when a bawling boor tumbles out. His feelings have been injured by the driver’s mate’s stupefying slap. He rolls until he bangs his head on a concrete pylon. He gets up on his feet swiftly, sees the driver’s mate advancing with insane intent in his eyes, and dives towards the nearest rock. The mate beats it to the other side of the minibus, just before the projectile hurtles in.