Go Shoot Togo, Not My House!

To crush and annihilate Togo! I grew up thinking that was what we had the army for. You see, when I was growing up, there was a military junta in charge, and it was not that friendly with Togo. Soldiers strutted on the streets and eyeballed, menaced or slapped fear into the hearts of civilians. Ok, so I also thought the men in green kept civilian discipline.

So I was wrong in some respects. We are now democratic, and our soldiers are stationed straight to ‘blitzkrieg’ deter Togo and other neighbouring countries, or to help in natural and human disasters within the country. Soldiers have sometimes done more than keep the peace within. They have sometimes flexed their muscle in disagreements with us poor civilians.

So, imagine my discomfort when, in these days when the military has cleaned up its image and gained more respect than many state institutions, I read that the military had shot down a pastor’s house because they claimed he’d built it on their land! See the story here.

No Gold Going for a Song

Those 'well-watered' Westerners who strike cyber friendships and business partnerships with West Africans, let me etch this on your minds: there are no gold nuggets glittering, and there is no fairy gold dust winnowing, on the streets; there is no gold bullion in the dingy rooms of faux royal families. Ergo, before your greed eggs you on to wire reckless dollars to criminal cliques in order to earn sky-high returns, won’t you at least take the time to learn about the social and business culture, names and norms?

My Favourite Website

A super gizmo: here’s the libido button, the x-ray vision button, the love-match button, the fart-fixing button, whatever. Got your attention right? My daily life is so choked by tech, I can scarcely pee without something ‘test-tubing’ the levels of something else in me. But it’s not half terrible, is it? Now the point: with so many websites jostling for my 30 minutes, it’s really the BBC which wins my wandering love. What’s yours? (Facebook cannot run in these elections).

Contemptuous Beauty

I just read the phrase “contemptuous beauty” in an old book. I gather it is where the lucky recipient (and temporary borrower) of God’s or Nature’s bounty feels superior to humanity on that fortuitous account alone.

They demand more volumes of breathing air, colder cokes, sleeker cars for cheaper, exclusive rights to wear the sexiest clothes and the only remaining promotion or pay rise for the next 5 years. That’s contemptuous beauty.

I think I just wrote up a benighted beast and not a bedazzling beauty. I see a lot of Contemptuous Beauties in the City of Accra. Oh, until something devastating inevitably happens to burst their beauty bubble.

(Do you remember the drop-dead gorgeous criminal whose lawyer begged against her imprisonment because she was too beautiful to go to jail?)

A Guy with Soft, Curly Hair

I remember a glamorous girl that I laughed and flirted with a long time ago. She figured she fancied guys with soft and curly (Dada B) hair. Her defence was it was for the benefit of her children. So, it must be true that beyond the physical appetite, what strain of genes to pass on to the offspring is subconsciously at play, when a female selects her mate. My friend was mentally swift, and clearly conceived she had enough of the grey matter to pass on. She just desired a man with body muscle and luxuriant locks!

Closet Kung Fu*

Sin #1: Goes to the loo with his cell phone.

Sin #2: Doesn't switch it off or make it mute.

Sin #3: Fails to realise there's an office mate in there.

Sin #4: Begins to grunt and heave to announce the dislodging.

Sin #5: A call comes through while he's pushing and panting.

Sin #6: Dares to pick the call mid-push, as his voice floats out the cubicle.

Sin #7: Through mouth and nose he yells, “Heee-aaaaaaaah, heh-lloooo.”

Sin #8: Denies it was his voice; says it was the ring tone!


*Forgive me, it's Silly Friday.

Give Us More or We’ll Release the Prisoners!

You know we are damned, dead and doubly doomed when wailing warders abandon prison posts and ooze out onto the city streets like plagues and pus to hold the public hostage. It’s true that they may be paid like public peasant slaves, but to threaten to unleash hordes of prisoners on the equally pay-pinched public is to sink integrity beneath a cesspool.