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.

A Foolish Case

A coconut huckster nicked my main man’s wrist with the macabre machete he was brandishing in order to avoid giving back the change. This senseless impulse erupted in broad daylight. Moments later, a vacuous vixen in the complaints cubicle at the Legon Police Station took one languid look at my friend’s bleeding hand, and barked, “foolish case”.

Aggression

This week’s theme will be Aggression. Aggression in urban areas. Who’s to say what the reason is? I’m looking for material beyond aggressive cops at checkpoints, street beggars, vendors etc. I am also looking beyond the scariest spectre of armed robbery. I really don’t know where this will lead. I hope it’s worth your reading.

The Bouncing Lights at Yeji

When nightfall swallows the day, and only the valiant venture outdoors, a psychedelic spectacle sweeps across the wooded pathways in yawning Yeji town. In the dark distance, dozens of brilliant, yellow lights bounce hippity hop towards you, past you and away into the night. Witches and wizards on their way!

Elfin Fertility in the Volta

A stony kernel and a hale hen are brought to the festival grounds at 7 a.m. Fetish dances and songs are performed by dreadful spirit-beings in varicoloured clothes, dry grass skirts, naked torsos ‘pastelled’ in chalk and war paint. Around 9 a.m., the kernel is buried in the holy ground, and a cock is intimately introduced to the hen. The yodelling and gambolling continues, but as the fetish demi-gods become possessed, they start displaying some shocking acts; wickedly whipping one another, breaking the sable skin and bleeding badly, but there is no cry of pain. Some are cutting and stabbing their own bulging bellies with knives and daggers, but there are no weeping wounds. By 12 noon, the kiddo kernel has grown into a 20-foot-high palm tree with mature, vermillion fruit. The hen has laid an egg and hurriedly hatched a chick. Now the mystic messengers of the gods are appearing and disappearing with a bellowing ‘poom’ amid wisps of white and yellow smoke. At 2 p.m., the chick has ‘imagoed’ into a big, fat hen, and the mother hen withers and dies. By 3 p.m. the new hen and the palm fruit have been cooked into delicious palm soup. Six short hours it took!