Learning 'Oil & Gas'

In the greasy history of the Third World and oil, who normally benefits from the commodity? Why are so many learning 'oil & gas'? Black gold? Mtcheew! Try fool's gold!

Shoppers’ Shame

With just a bottle of body lotion in our hand, Lil Girl and I chose the shortest queue. It was not to be the quickest. A lost-looking man and his paying wife had bought a thousand little things which took some tallying. When the shop assistant said “175 Ghana Cedis”, he took off his purely gentrifying glasses, and checked the screen of the register himself. He broke into sweat for his wife had just 135. Between turning away and searching her frowning face, he spent two minutes looking like an Ass, and wasting our time (well, he did not, for everyone in the queue was laughing hard and freely). I’ll never understand two things. Why could they not do a rough tally of prices? Why could they not take out stuff when the amount was too high? After a while, he took a note from this pocket and another from that pocket until he got the 400. And then they slunk out of there, surely vowing never to return (or at least not with each other).

The Lies of Talent Shows

I read an article somewhere that Ghanaian comedian David Oscar couldn’t laugh even if tickled by a girl with a donkey face and tail, and callused human hands. It said that he approaches his stagecraft with similar sterility. I’ve seen him once or twice. He was painful, artificial. He did not even crease the corners of my mouth (unless you count my wincing).

It’s got me thinking about talent shows. It was such a contest that unearthed buried David in the limelight, although both he and the audience had Botox faces every week for nine. It’s been downright downhill since then. The question: do you have talent because so-called talent judges on a sponsorship-selling TV show say you do? Or must your work plead its own case?

As for David, I think the article writer was too hard on him. He does have a funny face when he appears on stage and begins to look self-important. If only he would hold it there and prance about without uttering a word!

Garbage Politics

Does politics mean we are fools? That we believe anything? So there is a cadre of the opposition take time out to litter the city with rubbish? RUBBISH!

Ghana News :: NDC organiser blames detractors for garbage in Accra ::: Breaking News | News in Ghana | politics

Travel Warning – Ghana

No need to take too much care. In fact, you can nearly be reckless. It is still safer than most other countries. There are fewer attacks here. I have lived here all my life. I have not come within a country mile of being attacked by those undesirables. I’m talking about stray animals, ghosts, robbers, murderers and rapists in (con)descending order. So, please visit. It is warm (in people and weather) and as safe as a baby’s smile.

Sexuality in Football

African Women’s Football Championships. Equatorial Guinea quashes the Queens from Ghana. The Queens (beaten black-and-blue) impute titanic testosterone levels to ‘at least 3 members’ of the other team. You’d imagine they were ‘boobless’, pas-derriere, knobbly-kneed, square-jawed and slightly-too-smelly, marauding male beasts in the park.

I like women. I wish I could play with them all the time. Football, wrestling, swimming, rugby, badmingling – sorry badminton :-) - whatever. Equality. So 3 ’hangers’ featured in a game meant for ‘gapers’. Is that a problem? I’m not saying it wasn’t. Was that cheating? I am not saying it wasn’t. But I am not saying it was, either. I’m just wishing we could all play together.

Sexuality is insincere; a dubious construct. It’s just bodies. You brush against a part of mine, I rub against yours. The way the animals do. It’s nothing. We’re just playing. Bonding. Groping. Socializing. If we don’t elevate sexuality, then everything is fair game. It’s just bodies. Petty,  physical things.

Don’t Let Anger Ruin a Friendship.

My twin always preaches: “When you’re angry, what do you do? Nothing!” Last week, I fell out with a ‘Huckleberry Friend’. She skidded out of her way to make me feel bad. She said we’d parked out of ‘Friendship Zone’ to ‘Pure Professional Zone.’ I admit (ssshhh) that I was hurt. I thought to tell her which part of my shoes she could kiss. But, I did nothing. Over the weekend, while I was alone (and cruising in my prescribed professional zone) my phone beeped. It was my ‘Huckleberry Friend’. She asked if I was home and resting. She said she’d see me on Monday. With those two lines, we were all Tom-and-Huck again. I am glad that I did nothing. I have my friend back. Driving in ‘Friendship Zone’ is a bit start-and-stop right now, but the engine will warm up soon, and oil all the moving parts. Friends are forever.