The myriad meanings of feminism floor my simple mind. And when you have one meaning locked down, it gives you different layers. I said "Hi Sexy" to a friend on social media, and she censured me for "objectifying" her. I switched off, unwilling to deal with her eggshell self (more trouble if she reads this).
Now, dowries. The dowry is no longer token or symbolic in urban Ghana. Those who demand it require 'market' value. If you're a 'bogga', then pay in US Dollars.
Feminists. I haven't heard any feminists in Ghana demand abolition or 'price controls'. So, are feminists getting married; real dowry marriages?
Layers. Let's take one layer. Is it easy to ignore this obvious 'commoditisation' (forget 'Hi Sexy') because it's the parents (and not their daughters) who are 'selling' (i.e. receiving the dowries)?
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Monday, September 19, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Risk of Recent Reveries
Ghana. 1957.
How do you un-teach the colonial id? Teachers, teachers,
teachers! Enter King Kwame Nkrumah.
Green graduates from lucent Legon are civically coaxed to desert
collective-clan desires; no present need for all those bankers and lawyers and
accountants. Go and teach! I will pay you better than them, anyway.
The rest is anti-heroic history. Nkrumah waned. Coming kings
re-colonised and paid serf-rates to our educators.
Ghana. Present day.
Beware, all those people whose heads are sailing slick in
oil-and-gas dreams. You may be the new teachers.
Damsel Twice Distressed
Last Tuesday at ten pm, a woman's Seat 'something' sedan struck a sudden flame which snarled to scorch the car to cinders. Other cars stopped to help; no less than twelve counted I. The guy who 'kerbed' his Land Rover first, and brought out a fire extinguisher (kind man, bless his heart) would not accept anything more than her thanks. Except for the price of his extinguisher- thirty Ghana Cedis! Who asked him to help?
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Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wisdom Over A Fufu Bowl
The women chow down massive mounds; the men just chirp and peck. Or so it strikes one at Lalas Local at 18 Junction.
My fulsome gob of Fufu & Goat-Light fast grows lighter; the women wolf down morsels; the men mouth up words.
The full facts flop in my face over a cleaned-out, soup-stained dish. The women go to eat; the men go to take the women there.
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My fulsome gob of Fufu & Goat-Light fast grows lighter; the women wolf down morsels; the men mouth up words.
The full facts flop in my face over a cleaned-out, soup-stained dish. The women go to eat; the men go to take the women there.
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Saturday, September 3, 2011
Death by Lightning
If it was a stroll in the park for all things evil to smite the blameless with a lightning bolt in the days before 'the light', why did anybody survive to be colonised?
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Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Yeah, PermEnent...
As seen in the Spintex Road traffic. True to his promise, the gridlock was not permEnent. I reached the Mall only 15 minutes after I took this picture. The Mall was only 40 metres away.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Chaos In The Very Heart Of The City Of Accra
...and the biggest news item on health over the week has been whether heart patients should stay home and pray for their lives because the foremost heart surgeon was revered but released the government.
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