by
The
usual thing for me is to cross the street to grab lunch. Two balls of
kenkey and a plate of well peppered domedo. No matter what, a man
lives by bread. And more money makes a man eager to look for more
places to spend more. So come payday you will see me do the unusual
all over: a drive through Oxford Street, a climb into Aburi Gardens,
a stopover at The Tulip, or a dash to La Palm.
It is an
unassailable decision to
exercise our right to bark wo wo wo at the government for its crass
nonsensical occasioning of hardship on Ghanaians. For this, we warn;
ours is no mean fraternity to play with. We shall countenance no
frustration from your office. Indeed, paralysis from the waist down
shall be the least punishment if you dare us.
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Theusual thing for me is to cross the street to grab lunch. Two balls of
kenkey and a plate of well peppered domedo. No matter what, a man
lives by bread. And more money makes a man eager to look for more
places to spend more. So come payday you will see me do the unusual
all over: a drive through Oxford Street, a climb into Aburi Gardens,
a stopover at The Tulip, or a dash to La Palm.
Payday
is still some fifteen long days away. So I do the usual thing. I
cross the street and perch in a corner inside the kenkey base. This
place is nothing more than a roofed rectangular container of cement
blocks, twelve quick strides by either diagonal. The tables are
arranged across the length, impeding brisk walk, four of these, each
with two benches, so the sitting is face-to-face and, it is okay if I
am in familiar company, otherwise I am doomed to exchange eye contact
with strangers. The discomfort of such unwanted intimacy is
heightened when I am not in the mood for a chat.
is still some fifteen long days away. So I do the usual thing. I
cross the street and perch in a corner inside the kenkey base. This
place is nothing more than a roofed rectangular container of cement
blocks, twelve quick strides by either diagonal. The tables are
arranged across the length, impeding brisk walk, four of these, each
with two benches, so the sitting is face-to-face and, it is okay if I
am in familiar company, otherwise I am doomed to exchange eye contact
with strangers. The discomfort of such unwanted intimacy is
heightened when I am not in the mood for a chat.
I
do not miss the inscription above the door when I come here. Nobody
can miss it. A straightforward motto in bold black paint on a white
background: ‘HOT YE MI’. The Accra woman has her way of stating
her case in the face without embellishments. This is one such
statement which, by a fair attempt at a mechanical milling into
English, becomes ‘HOT IS IN’. Food served hot is just as well for
my stomach. I remember how my day was made the first day I took my
desk at the Kaya Insurance Company after coming here. I remember it
was only when I got my first pay that I tossed my car key up – full
of the urge for a change – caught it back mid-air and looked away
from the kenkey base. To Osu or to Aburi, with money in my pocket, I
am the butterfly hopping after nectar.
do not miss the inscription above the door when I come here. Nobody
can miss it. A straightforward motto in bold black paint on a white
background: ‘HOT YE MI’. The Accra woman has her way of stating
her case in the face without embellishments. This is one such
statement which, by a fair attempt at a mechanical milling into
English, becomes ‘HOT IS IN’. Food served hot is just as well for
my stomach. I remember how my day was made the first day I took my
desk at the Kaya Insurance Company after coming here. I remember it
was only when I got my first pay that I tossed my car key up – full
of the urge for a change – caught it back mid-air and looked away
from the kenkey base. To Osu or to Aburi, with money in my pocket, I
am the butterfly hopping after nectar.
One
thing about coming here, though, is, no matter the weather condition,
the sense comes immediately, on entering, that the inscription at the
frontage carries more meaning than the advertisement of hot food.
This feeling comes in a wave of heat which embraces the body at once.
The windows serve no good: they open only to the back of a huge
building. I wonder if anyone thought this could bring in air. Two
tired fans are set on to turn the air but they blow heat, making
noise, creaking and creaking, turn by each tedious turn.
thing about coming here, though, is, no matter the weather condition,
the sense comes immediately, on entering, that the inscription at the
frontage carries more meaning than the advertisement of hot food.
This feeling comes in a wave of heat which embraces the body at once.
The windows serve no good: they open only to the back of a huge
building. I wonder if anyone thought this could bring in air. Two
tired fans are set on to turn the air but they blow heat, making
noise, creaking and creaking, turn by each tedious turn.
I
get my food served. The usual. I down it inside my belly. I lick my
fingers and belch. I wish I could have another round but prudence
gnaws at my forehead. One pesewa now makes a lot of difference. But
what? I can still get more domedo and borrow money from my wife. She
won’t deny me. She will only grumble. At worst, she will insult my
manhood. In any case if she refuses to give me, I can take an IOU at
the office. But this is no good option now. I have taken IOUs for the
past three months. This time I must redeem some respect, some modicum
of honour, for myself, before my colleagues. “Ah man taya sef! Man
taya! Domedo too now be expensive, twiaa-kai!” I belch again and a
bile of angst seizes my tongue.
get my food served. The usual. I down it inside my belly. I lick my
fingers and belch. I wish I could have another round but prudence
gnaws at my forehead. One pesewa now makes a lot of difference. But
what? I can still get more domedo and borrow money from my wife. She
won’t deny me. She will only grumble. At worst, she will insult my
manhood. In any case if she refuses to give me, I can take an IOU at
the office. But this is no good option now. I have taken IOUs for the
past three months. This time I must redeem some respect, some modicum
of honour, for myself, before my colleagues. “Ah man taya sef! Man
taya! Domedo too now be expensive, twiaa-kai!” I belch again and a
bile of angst seizes my tongue.
I
want to spit. I could vomit. Not that the food is bad. Not at all. It
is good. Not that I will swear, here and now, a severance of my
affinity for domedo. No. This is a delicacy I had for free as a child
from my father’s second wife, Maa Bee. “Oh peace be upon her
soul.” I say this when I remember her rare kindness. Then I make
the sign of the cross and repeat, “peace be upon her kind soul”.
Everything changed when Maa Bee passed away. She would often say I
should take my studies seriously and that if I observe the world
carefully I will come to understand why it does not always rain. Now
I know but I cannot understand why prices only go up up … They
never come down. I make to spit at once, stopping only to raise my
head first, sweating out the heat, just so I am sure no one is
looking. However, I discover a bearded man sitting opposite me.
want to spit. I could vomit. Not that the food is bad. Not at all. It
is good. Not that I will swear, here and now, a severance of my
affinity for domedo. No. This is a delicacy I had for free as a child
from my father’s second wife, Maa Bee. “Oh peace be upon her
soul.” I say this when I remember her rare kindness. Then I make
the sign of the cross and repeat, “peace be upon her kind soul”.
Everything changed when Maa Bee passed away. She would often say I
should take my studies seriously and that if I observe the world
carefully I will come to understand why it does not always rain. Now
I know but I cannot understand why prices only go up up … They
never come down. I make to spit at once, stopping only to raise my
head first, sweating out the heat, just so I am sure no one is
looking. However, I discover a bearded man sitting opposite me.
I
swear, I have been alone here in my corner. No one has been sharing
this table with me. No one! Now this man with his beard disturbs my
freedom. When and how he came to sit in front of me, without sound,
without the least perceptible shadow, I do not know. He is just here
from God-knows-where, with a hard and burnt face covered in sheer
bush, staring at me with neither a trace of history nor future of a
smile. He looks like one of those who belong to secret societies of
high orders exclusive to strict adherents of the Mosaic Law. I should
have joined one of these cults a long time ago. I have heard it said
repeatedly how they knit networks to help one another financially.
swear, I have been alone here in my corner. No one has been sharing
this table with me. No one! Now this man with his beard disturbs my
freedom. When and how he came to sit in front of me, without sound,
without the least perceptible shadow, I do not know. He is just here
from God-knows-where, with a hard and burnt face covered in sheer
bush, staring at me with neither a trace of history nor future of a
smile. He looks like one of those who belong to secret societies of
high orders exclusive to strict adherents of the Mosaic Law. I should
have joined one of these cults a long time ago. I have heard it said
repeatedly how they knit networks to help one another financially.
I
begin a quick scan of this man. The richness of his hat reveals
itself: a lavish black fedora. I have no business looking him in the
eye. I scan the rest of his body: neat suit and bow-tie. I can
conclude he belongs to the upper end of the contemporary Ghanaian
middle-class. They say Ghana is now a middle income country, I say
apuuuuu, but be it so, I place myself in the middle of this
middle-class so I can see anyone below or above me. I sweep my eyes
across the spectrum of this class and I see clearly this man is above
me.
begin a quick scan of this man. The richness of his hat reveals
itself: a lavish black fedora. I have no business looking him in the
eye. I scan the rest of his body: neat suit and bow-tie. I can
conclude he belongs to the upper end of the contemporary Ghanaian
middle-class. They say Ghana is now a middle income country, I say
apuuuuu, but be it so, I place myself in the middle of this
middle-class so I can see anyone below or above me. I sweep my eyes
across the spectrum of this class and I see clearly this man is above
me.
“The
system is hard, my brother,” the man starts to speak and I am
jolted. I hold onto the edge of the bench. “The system is in a
precarious state. It’s as though we have a noose tightening our
necks slow and slow. It’s suffocating. It’s choking. It’s dire,
my brother, dire, dire!” This man must have heard me talking to
myself.
system is hard, my brother,” the man starts to speak and I am
jolted. I hold onto the edge of the bench. “The system is in a
precarious state. It’s as though we have a noose tightening our
necks slow and slow. It’s suffocating. It’s choking. It’s dire,
my brother, dire, dire!” This man must have heard me talking to
myself.
“Mmnnhhh…
ah! say that again.” I nod and urge him on.
ah! say that again.” I nod and urge him on.
“Nothing
is working. Everything is becoming expensive. I can hardly afford one
piece of fish to balance the carbohydrate from the kenkey.”
is working. Everything is becoming expensive. I can hardly afford one
piece of fish to balance the carbohydrate from the kenkey.”
This
man speaks like one well read. He must be a lawyer. But wait, why a
whole lawyer cannot afford fish is bizarre. Fried fish! Even with my
predicament I just bought pork served in the delicacy of domedo. So
we have gotten that bad?
man speaks like one well read. He must be a lawyer. But wait, why a
whole lawyer cannot afford fish is bizarre. Fried fish! Even with my
predicament I just bought pork served in the delicacy of domedo. So
we have gotten that bad?
“Waaaaa
look ooo …” I do not speak pidgin when I am talking to the
learned, but I could not care now. I mix the language: “If people
like we sef dey suffer like this then just imagine those down there.
Huh… waaaaa look.”
look ooo …” I do not speak pidgin when I am talking to the
learned, but I could not care now. I mix the language: “If people
like we sef dey suffer like this then just imagine those down there.
Huh… waaaaa look.”
I
still feel like spitting but I check myself again and force saliva
down my throat. I smack my lips and I feel the muscles on my face
contract. I imagine my reflection in a mirror.
still feel like spitting but I check myself again and force saliva
down my throat. I smack my lips and I feel the muscles on my face
contract. I imagine my reflection in a mirror.
“Ah,
we need a revo! Corruption everywhere! School fees up. Electricity
bills up. Water bills! Yesterday koraaa they announced another
increase in fuel prices. Just look ooo! I parked my car at home
today. I have to wait for my pay to buy fuel again. Huh! Everything
is in reverse. We must revolt. We need one hard hitting revo to put
some sense into the kolikoli of the government. That is the language
they understand. They must sit up or get out. And if they want, we
will raise a Sub-Saharan Spring right here. We will take over Nkrumah
Circle and rain fire down the government like they have done in
Cairo, Tunis, Tripoli… yes!”
we need a revo! Corruption everywhere! School fees up. Electricity
bills up. Water bills! Yesterday koraaa they announced another
increase in fuel prices. Just look ooo! I parked my car at home
today. I have to wait for my pay to buy fuel again. Huh! Everything
is in reverse. We must revolt. We need one hard hitting revo to put
some sense into the kolikoli of the government. That is the language
they understand. They must sit up or get out. And if they want, we
will raise a Sub-Saharan Spring right here. We will take over Nkrumah
Circle and rain fire down the government like they have done in
Cairo, Tunis, Tripoli… yes!”
The
bearded man agrees with me.
bearded man agrees with me.
“Yes,
yes, you’re right.” He says; thrusting his fists into the air
before me.
yes, you’re right.” He says; thrusting his fists into the air
before me.
I
am completely burst now. Livid. No, not livid. To strike livid as the
reflection of my state would create a shortfall in my emotions. I am
burst. Just burst. Burst! The bearded man holds my hand and taps,
taps, taps my knuckles with his thumb as if to draw calm from my
bones. My chest heaves. I huff. I puff.
am completely burst now. Livid. No, not livid. To strike livid as the
reflection of my state would create a shortfall in my emotions. I am
burst. Just burst. Burst! The bearded man holds my hand and taps,
taps, taps my knuckles with his thumb as if to draw calm from my
bones. My chest heaves. I huff. I puff.
“Take
this, my brother,” the man taps me to a pause, “take,” he says,
“write my number.” He puts a pen and a piece of paper in my hand.
“We must talk.” He insists.
this, my brother,” the man taps me to a pause, “take,” he says,
“write my number.” He puts a pen and a piece of paper in my hand.
“We must talk.” He insists.
“I
agree, yes, yes.” I say.
agree, yes, yes.” I say.
“Manye,
I finish ooo…” I look up and shout to Manye the kenkey seller.
I finish ooo…” I look up and shout to Manye the kenkey seller.
“So
where do you work? Are you a lawyer?” I am turning back to the
bearded man and asking. But the man is gone. “Oh how?” I exclaim.
By Christ! The bearded man is gone; just as he came, without the
slightest perceptible motion. An indescribable force raises me from
my seat, making me hunch over the table. I make to sit back
immediately but I stand and straighten myself instead; looking around
the base, from corner to corner. I see nothing but curious eyes
staring at me. It is the kind of stare you get when, at an otherwise
quiet meeting with your superiors, you let out a loud but inadvertent
fart. “Aaah…!” I feel the paper in my hand and I look to be
sure. It is there alright and the bearded man’s number is on it in
my handwriting. “Aaah…!”
where do you work? Are you a lawyer?” I am turning back to the
bearded man and asking. But the man is gone. “Oh how?” I exclaim.
By Christ! The bearded man is gone; just as he came, without the
slightest perceptible motion. An indescribable force raises me from
my seat, making me hunch over the table. I make to sit back
immediately but I stand and straighten myself instead; looking around
the base, from corner to corner. I see nothing but curious eyes
staring at me. It is the kind of stare you get when, at an otherwise
quiet meeting with your superiors, you let out a loud but inadvertent
fart. “Aaah…!” I feel the paper in my hand and I look to be
sure. It is there alright and the bearded man’s number is on it in
my handwriting. “Aaah…!”
“Massa
Odenke, everything okay? Your money is only nine cedis.” Manye the
kenkey seller says to me through her semi-literate teeth. And I think
I hear a chortle in her voice too. By Christ! My mobile phone buzzes
to save me from her question. Her eyes are still fixed on me as if I
am some stranger.
Odenke, everything okay? Your money is only nine cedis.” Manye the
kenkey seller says to me through her semi-literate teeth. And I think
I hear a chortle in her voice too. By Christ! My mobile phone buzzes
to save me from her question. Her eyes are still fixed on me as if I
am some stranger.
“Hello…
hello…” I pick the call with a heavy breath which I try to
control too. The image of the bearded man holding my hand and tapping
it comes back to me. I try to calm down. “Hold on, hold on,
please…” I plead with the caller and approach Manye. I put a
fifty cedis note on her counter.
hello…” I pick the call with a heavy breath which I try to
control too. The image of the bearded man holding my hand and tapping
it comes back to me. I try to calm down. “Hold on, hold on,
please…” I plead with the caller and approach Manye. I put a
fifty cedis note on her counter.
“Eiii…
as for this one I don’t have change ooo. You’ll buy water?”
as for this one I don’t have change ooo. You’ll buy water?”
“Noooo.”
I reject the trap without blinking. There’s enough water in my
office and I must save the little pesewas that count in times of
need.
I reject the trap without blinking. There’s enough water in my
office and I must save the little pesewas that count in times of
need.
“Then
go and come. You big men always carry big money. I don’t have
change.”
go and come. You big men always carry big money. I don’t have
change.”
“Then
give it to me. I’ll bring your nine cedis later.” I reply.
give it to me. I’ll bring your nine cedis later.” I reply.
I
am not ready to leave all my fifty cedis with Manye. I take the money
and head for the exit without waiting for her to say yes or no. She
knows my office. She knows I won’t run away with her money. As I
make my way out, I feel the pull of curious eyes on the back of my
head, making it heavy like a bender’s hammer. I look up at the
afternoon sky to avoid the gaze of fellow pedestrians.
am not ready to leave all my fifty cedis with Manye. I take the money
and head for the exit without waiting for her to say yes or no. She
knows my office. She knows I won’t run away with her money. As I
make my way out, I feel the pull of curious eyes on the back of my
head, making it heavy like a bender’s hammer. I look up at the
afternoon sky to avoid the gaze of fellow pedestrians.
“Ahaa…
sorry, hello, hello…” I try to get back to the caller but I’m
only left with that piercing hum of a dead line. “Oh…” I touch
my forehead. “What is wrong eh?” I wonder. “Nothing. I’m
fine.” I assure myself.
sorry, hello, hello…” I try to get back to the caller but I’m
only left with that piercing hum of a dead line. “Oh…” I touch
my forehead. “What is wrong eh?” I wonder. “Nothing. I’m
fine.” I assure myself.
I
get back behind my desk at the office. There is not much for me to
execute. I always make sure the bulk of my workload is attended to
before lunch. It is unpleasant if I have to hurry to swallow two
balls of kenkey just because of piled-up work. Now I wish time would
just fly. A couple of emails drop in my inbox and I reply them. There
is a meeting scheduled for tomorrow. I put finishing touches to a
report and forward it to my boss for presentation. That is what
bosses do. You do the bull work and they take it and present to all
manner of assemblies; courting and receiving applause and smiling
before cameras. It is ten minutes to five; time to go. I pack and
head out.
get back behind my desk at the office. There is not much for me to
execute. I always make sure the bulk of my workload is attended to
before lunch. It is unpleasant if I have to hurry to swallow two
balls of kenkey just because of piled-up work. Now I wish time would
just fly. A couple of emails drop in my inbox and I reply them. There
is a meeting scheduled for tomorrow. I put finishing touches to a
report and forward it to my boss for presentation. That is what
bosses do. You do the bull work and they take it and present to all
manner of assemblies; courting and receiving applause and smiling
before cameras. It is ten minutes to five; time to go. I pack and
head out.
I
take no mean steps down the Adabraka slope towards Nkrumah Circle. I
must be fast to catch a trotro bus home; to beat the evening traffic
by a chunk. This way, I get to watch the seven-o’clock News. It is
a forty minute journey to Teshie where I live but traffic jams make
it a tiring hour and half. As I approach Vienna City, I enter a maze
of hawkers grabbing spots on the pavements for the night market. It’s
a chaotic buzz here already. When I have money and I do not want to
suffer traffic, I enter Vienna City to have chilled beer and amuse
myself at the sight of young women ranging from skinny, to plump, to
big bottoms, posing; pretending to be sexy. When I do this I arrive
late and boozed to the marrow. Naki my wife does not fail to
complain. Sometimes she disallows me from sharing our bed. But I care
less. I sleep in the sitting room.
take no mean steps down the Adabraka slope towards Nkrumah Circle. I
must be fast to catch a trotro bus home; to beat the evening traffic
by a chunk. This way, I get to watch the seven-o’clock News. It is
a forty minute journey to Teshie where I live but traffic jams make
it a tiring hour and half. As I approach Vienna City, I enter a maze
of hawkers grabbing spots on the pavements for the night market. It’s
a chaotic buzz here already. When I have money and I do not want to
suffer traffic, I enter Vienna City to have chilled beer and amuse
myself at the sight of young women ranging from skinny, to plump, to
big bottoms, posing; pretending to be sexy. When I do this I arrive
late and boozed to the marrow. Naki my wife does not fail to
complain. Sometimes she disallows me from sharing our bed. But I care
less. I sleep in the sitting room.
Instead
of heading to the Kaneshie Station, I come and stand under the
Faanorfa overpass. I want to save myself from further inconvenience.
Sometimes it is better to go to the Kaneshie Station. Perhaps even
mostly so but my instinct brings me to the overpass, though I may
suffer jostling for an hour or more, in competition with other
commuters, before getting a trotro. Today I seem to have gotten here
early enough. I look around and see about seven other people waiting
for buses. A trotro comes along with the mate screaming
“Tema-Teshie-Nungua”. I climb onto it. Two others follow me and
we move away.
of heading to the Kaneshie Station, I come and stand under the
Faanorfa overpass. I want to save myself from further inconvenience.
Sometimes it is better to go to the Kaneshie Station. Perhaps even
mostly so but my instinct brings me to the overpass, though I may
suffer jostling for an hour or more, in competition with other
commuters, before getting a trotro. Today I seem to have gotten here
early enough. I look around and see about seven other people waiting
for buses. A trotro comes along with the mate screaming
“Tema-Teshie-Nungua”. I climb onto it. Two others follow me and
we move away.
Trotro
buses are not comfortable. If you have a problem, the trotro is the
place to compound it. The last time I boarded one, my trousers got
trapped between bare tetanus-offering metals and I got off with a
torn bottom. All I could do was to curse the driver and his mate.
They could not be bothered. They were off rolling down the road
blasting exhaust tu tu tu tu tu… I remember I swore never to take
trotro again but for this damn economy occasioned by this wicked
government.
buses are not comfortable. If you have a problem, the trotro is the
place to compound it. The last time I boarded one, my trousers got
trapped between bare tetanus-offering metals and I got off with a
torn bottom. All I could do was to curse the driver and his mate.
They could not be bothered. They were off rolling down the road
blasting exhaust tu tu tu tu tu… I remember I swore never to take
trotro again but for this damn economy occasioned by this wicked
government.
Now
I wish my legs were shorter. The seats in this trotro are so close I
have to keep my legs apart to free my knees from getting sore. I
stretch my legs farther apart, pushing my co-passengers into a
squeeze. The one on my left I see is a young boy returning from
school who obviously would not dare complain. I wear a stern look.
But the one on my right shifts uncomfortably and hits me back. I make
an immediate turn towards him and offer my apology.
I wish my legs were shorter. The seats in this trotro are so close I
have to keep my legs apart to free my knees from getting sore. I
stretch my legs farther apart, pushing my co-passengers into a
squeeze. The one on my left I see is a young boy returning from
school who obviously would not dare complain. I wear a stern look.
But the one on my right shifts uncomfortably and hits me back. I make
an immediate turn towards him and offer my apology.
“Sorry,”
I say.
I say.
“It’s
okay. Don’t worry.” The man says without looking at me.
okay. Don’t worry.” The man says without looking at me.
“Oh
it’s you.” Christ! I meet the bearded man again. “I planned to
call you when I get home. My phone went off.” I say to him but he
is not minding me, “But how come I didn’t realize you were the
one sitting by me all this while?” The man turns to look at me once
with knotted brows as if I surprise him and turns away to call out to
the mate,
it’s you.” Christ! I meet the bearded man again. “I planned to
call you when I get home. My phone went off.” I say to him but he
is not minding me, “But how come I didn’t realize you were the
one sitting by me all this while?” The man turns to look at me once
with knotted brows as if I surprise him and turns away to call out to
the mate,
“Mate,
Danquah-First, bus stop.”
Danquah-First, bus stop.”
I
would have thought an educated man like him would say ‘bus
conductor’. The bus stops and he starts getting down before I can
say anything else.
would have thought an educated man like him would say ‘bus
conductor’. The bus stops and he starts getting down before I can
say anything else.
“I’ll
call you tomorrow,” I say to him.
call you tomorrow,” I say to him.
He
gets off and we move on. Now I’m wondering whether that’s not the
bearded man I met at the kenkey base.
gets off and we move on. Now I’m wondering whether that’s not the
bearded man I met at the kenkey base.
“It
must be him. Or? It’s him … It’s him. It must be him. Maybe
he’s so tired he didn’t want to talk.”
must be him. Or? It’s him … It’s him. It must be him. Maybe
he’s so tired he didn’t want to talk.”
A
man in the front seat turns towards me and says,
man in the front seat turns towards me and says,
“My
friend, you’re making too much noise.”
friend, you’re making too much noise.”
This
bewilders me.
bewilders me.
“Are
you talking to me?” I ask him. I know he is talking to me but I
still want to see if he has gauged himself well against me.
you talking to me?” I ask him. I know he is talking to me but I
still want to see if he has gauged himself well against me.
“Yes
you! You’re not the only person in the bus. Let’s have peace!
From Circle you’ve made noise saaaaa, why? You’re in tie,
gentleman, fine, respect yourself!”
you! You’re not the only person in the bus. Let’s have peace!
From Circle you’ve made noise saaaaa, why? You’re in tie,
gentleman, fine, respect yourself!”
“What
the hell do you mean?” I take him on straight away. “Who do you
think you are? Do you know me? Nonsense! If it wasn’t for your
useless government I’d have been driving my car and not been in
this trotro with you.”
the hell do you mean?” I take him on straight away. “Who do you
think you are? Do you know me? Nonsense! If it wasn’t for your
useless government I’d have been driving my car and not been in
this trotro with you.”
I
do not hear the man talk again.
do not hear the man talk again.
I
arrive home at six thirty, just as I wanted. Naki is at home too.
arrive home at six thirty, just as I wanted. Naki is at home too.
“What
happened to the car?” Naki asks; raising alarm.
happened to the car?” Naki asks; raising alarm.
“You
could have said welcome before asking about the damn car.” I reply,
but Naki continues.
could have said welcome before asking about the damn car.” I reply,
but Naki continues.
“I
came back to find the car parked. I thought you were home early. I
got here at four thirty and I called your phone without success. So
imagine my worry.” Bla bla bla… Naki is like that, unless she
does not find an excuse to spark her tongue.
came back to find the car parked. I thought you were home early. I
got here at four thirty and I called your phone without success. So
imagine my worry.” Bla bla bla… Naki is like that, unless she
does not find an excuse to spark her tongue.
“My
phone was off. Can I have something to eat?” I ask without minding
her blabbing.
phone was off. Can I have something to eat?” I ask without minding
her blabbing.
“So
what happened to the car?”
what happened to the car?”
“Naki,
I don’t have money. That’s what happened to the damn car. Will
you give me money? Can I just have my food?”
I don’t have money. That’s what happened to the damn car. Will
you give me money? Can I just have my food?”
I
walk to the kitchen. I serve myself and walk back to the dining
table. All the while Naki is following me, blabbing.
walk to the kitchen. I serve myself and walk back to the dining
table. All the while Naki is following me, blabbing.
“Naki,
I need money,” I say between mouthfuls, “Give me a loan.” Naki
is quiet now. She does not even stir, let alone fart. “Naki, I’m
talking to you.” I say, louder.
I need money,” I say between mouthfuls, “Give me a loan.” Naki
is quiet now. She does not even stir, let alone fart. “Naki, I’m
talking to you.” I say, louder.
“When
I asked you about the car, did you mind me?” she retorts.
I asked you about the car, did you mind me?” she retorts.
“So
what? You’re retaliating? Fine. There’s no fuel in the car. I
need money to buy fuel. Give me four hundred cedis. I’ll give it
back to you when I get my pay.”
what? You’re retaliating? Fine. There’s no fuel in the car. I
need money to buy fuel. Give me four hundred cedis. I’ll give it
back to you when I get my pay.”
“Why
should I give you four hundred cedis?” Naki asks.
should I give you four hundred cedis?” Naki asks.
“Didn’t
you hear me? I said the fuel is finished.”
you hear me? I said the fuel is finished.”
“So
what do you use your money for? You don’t give chop-money. I pay
the water and electricity bills. I don’t remember the last time you
bought me any gift…” Naki starts blabbing again.
what do you use your money for? You don’t give chop-money. I pay
the water and electricity bills. I don’t remember the last time you
bought me any gift…” Naki starts blabbing again.
“Naki,”
I cut in, though she does not stop talking. “Go and ask your
government why my salary cannot buy me a month’s fuel. You voted
for them. Go and ask them.”
I cut in, though she does not stop talking. “Go and ask your
government why my salary cannot buy me a month’s fuel. You voted
for them. Go and ask them.”
I
finish eating and go back to the kitchen. This time Naki does not
follow me. I dump the plate in the sink, wash my hand and return to
the sitting room. Naki is watching one of those Mexican soaps on TV.
finish eating and go back to the kitchen. This time Naki does not
follow me. I dump the plate in the sink, wash my hand and return to
the sitting room. Naki is watching one of those Mexican soaps on TV.
“Naki,
it’s past seven-o’clock. I want to watch the news.” I take the
remote control and change to good old GTV.
it’s past seven-o’clock. I want to watch the news.” I take the
remote control and change to good old GTV.
“You
keep behaving strangely these days,” Naki says.
keep behaving strangely these days,” Naki says.
“Oh
what? Leave me to watch the news.”
what? Leave me to watch the news.”
Naki
and I are both quiet now.
and I are both quiet now.
I
find myself on the sofa in the living room in the morning. The last
thing I remember is watching the news last night. “God, I must have
been damn tired. But Naki should have called me? Huh?” I wonder. It
is six-o’clock. I should have been on my way to work by now,
especially since I will be taking trotro today too. “Naki can keep
her money. After all, what? I will survive.” I jump into the
bathroom. I am soaping up when I hear Naki call.
find myself on the sofa in the living room in the morning. The last
thing I remember is watching the news last night. “God, I must have
been damn tired. But Naki should have called me? Huh?” I wonder. It
is six-o’clock. I should have been on my way to work by now,
especially since I will be taking trotro today too. “Naki can keep
her money. After all, what? I will survive.” I jump into the
bathroom. I am soaping up when I hear Naki call.
“Enoch…”
“Yes.”
I respond. Soap enters my mouth and I spit.
I respond. Soap enters my mouth and I spit.
“I’m
leaving. I left the money on your pillow.”
leaving. I left the money on your pillow.”
“Oh
okay. Thank you dear, thank you, I should see you before you go.
Wait, let me check you out.” I say.
okay. Thank you dear, thank you, I should see you before you go.
Wait, let me check you out.” I say.
“I’ll
see you in the evening. I’m late,” Naki says and I hear the door
slam behind her.
see you in the evening. I’m late,” Naki says and I hear the door
slam behind her.
I
step out with Naki’s money in my pocket and speed away. The
residual fuel can take me some distance alright. I check the filling
station at La, opposite the La beach, but I am waved away. No fuel.
“Ah!” I end up at Danquah Circle and, again, no luck. An
attendant here is kind enough to direct me to Airport Shell.
step out with Naki’s money in my pocket and speed away. The
residual fuel can take me some distance alright. I check the filling
station at La, opposite the La beach, but I am waved away. No fuel.
“Ah!” I end up at Danquah Circle and, again, no luck. An
attendant here is kind enough to direct me to Airport Shell.
“There’s
fuel shortage in Accra ooo,” he says, adding generously, “they
say government is not having credit.”
fuel shortage in Accra ooo,” he says, adding generously, “they
say government is not having credit.”
I
check my fuel gauge and it’s reading almost zero. It is seven ten.
I must be in the office by eight-o’clock. The meeting starts at
eight thirty. Now I have money but there is no fuel to buy in this
country. I look the attendant in the eye and say to him:
check my fuel gauge and it’s reading almost zero. It is seven ten.
I must be in the office by eight-o’clock. The meeting starts at
eight thirty. Now I have money but there is no fuel to buy in this
country. I look the attendant in the eye and say to him:
“We
need a revolution!”
need a revolution!”
I
don’t know why this government continues to stretch my patience.
“Damn!” I curse. “This government is really shit.” I beat,
beat the steering and change gears.
don’t know why this government continues to stretch my patience.
“Damn!” I curse. “This government is really shit.” I beat,
beat the steering and change gears.
“I
will get there,” I assure myself and zoom off.
will get there,” I assure myself and zoom off.
I
do not even get to Airport Shell before seeing the long queue
spilling onto the road. I join the queue right at the entrance and my
engine stops. The fuel is really finished now. Not a drop left for a
spark. I get out and push the car with one hand while controlling the
steering wheel with the other. It takes me twenty minutes from the
entrance to the pump which is just thirty meters away. I’m sweating
already. The sweat makes my shirt stick to my skin. Finally, my tank
is filled and I drive away.
do not even get to Airport Shell before seeing the long queue
spilling onto the road. I join the queue right at the entrance and my
engine stops. The fuel is really finished now. Not a drop left for a
spark. I get out and push the car with one hand while controlling the
steering wheel with the other. It takes me twenty minutes from the
entrance to the pump which is just thirty meters away. I’m sweating
already. The sweat makes my shirt stick to my skin. Finally, my tank
is filled and I drive away.
“This
government is very annoying,” I sigh I and fish for the paper in my
breast pocket.
government is very annoying,” I sigh I and fish for the paper in my
breast pocket.
This
is illegal, but I take my phone and dial the number while managing to
keep my eyes on the road. I could be arrested, I know, but I have
done this a few times without suffering any problem.
is illegal, but I take my phone and dial the number while managing to
keep my eyes on the road. I could be arrested, I know, but I have
done this a few times without suffering any problem.
“Hellooooo…”
I say upon the first sense of a pick.
I say upon the first sense of a pick.
“Chi
chi chi chi …” I hear this from the other end of the line.
chi chi chi …” I hear this from the other end of the line.
The
response I get is loud and clear but it unsettles me. I try again.
response I get is loud and clear but it unsettles me. I try again.
“Hello,
hello…”
hello…”
And
again the response is,
again the response is,
“Chi
chi chi chi…”
chi chi chi…”
I
do not understand what is happening. I pull into the ring road. Not
bad. I have done good time. I remove the phone from my ears and place
it before my eyes to scrutinize. The number I dialed is correct. I
try again, this time I re-punch the number. If I am unsuccessful I
will stop and call after the meeting. But now I hear a voice at the
other end of the line. This is what I expect.
do not understand what is happening. I pull into the ring road. Not
bad. I have done good time. I remove the phone from my ears and place
it before my eyes to scrutinize. The number I dialed is correct. I
try again, this time I re-punch the number. If I am unsuccessful I
will stop and call after the meeting. But now I hear a voice at the
other end of the line. This is what I expect.
“Hello
Mr. Odenke.” The voice booms and echoes in my ears. “It was good
meeting you yesterday.”
Mr. Odenke.” The voice booms and echoes in my ears. “It was good
meeting you yesterday.”
It
is the bearded man. I want to ask him how he got my name but he is
not allowing me to talk.
is the bearded man. I want to ask him how he got my name but he is
not allowing me to talk.
“Now
listen carefully,” he says.
listen carefully,” he says.
I
enlarge my ears.
enlarge my ears.
“I
have initiated you into the Chi Chi Fraternity by the most sacred
oath.”
have initiated you into the Chi Chi Fraternity by the most sacred
oath.”
I
am not sure whether I’m hearing properly. Even if I am, I still
want to hear that again.
am not sure whether I’m hearing properly. Even if I am, I still
want to hear that again.
“Sorry
…” I try to interject but the man was bent on finishing his
statement.
…” I try to interject but the man was bent on finishing his
statement.
“You’re
now a Brother. Brother Odenke. So do as I say without fail.” He
proceeds with an elaborate set of instructions. I listen.
now a Brother. Brother Odenke. So do as I say without fail.” He
proceeds with an elaborate set of instructions. I listen.
When
he is done, he calls my name,
he is done, he calls my name,
“Mr.
Odenke,” he says, “remember, you don’t have the option of
fail.”
Odenke,” he says, “remember, you don’t have the option of
fail.”
I
put the phone down on the passenger’s seat and I drive on, making
plans and nodding to myself.
put the phone down on the passenger’s seat and I drive on, making
plans and nodding to myself.
“…
the Sacred
Secretary, Grand and Fearful”, I find myself saying. “… but
this man? Why these warnings? He doesn’t know me. I’ll show him I
don’t joke with serious matters.”
the Sacred
Secretary, Grand and Fearful”, I find myself saying. “… but
this man? Why these warnings? He doesn’t know me. I’ll show him I
don’t joke with serious matters.”
The
meeting at the office gets done by eleven-o’clock. Strategic
whatever, whatever! Always the same long talks. We got some lousy
food served and I took it for two reasons: first, it means I get to
save some money and second, I could spend the break time attending to
the bearded man’s matter. This is exactly what I do. I pull some A4
sheets from my printer, grab my pen and scribble away:
meeting at the office gets done by eleven-o’clock. Strategic
whatever, whatever! Always the same long talks. We got some lousy
food served and I took it for two reasons: first, it means I get to
save some money and second, I could spend the break time attending to
the bearded man’s matter. This is exactly what I do. I pull some A4
sheets from my printer, grab my pen and scribble away:
“Dear
Sir,
Sir,
This
is to bring ample and definite notice to your decorated office that
we of The Chi Chi Fraternity have decided upon the most sacred oath
to mount the biggest ever protest against government on the
democratic streets of Accra.
is to bring ample and definite notice to your decorated office that
we of The Chi Chi Fraternity have decided upon the most sacred oath
to mount the biggest ever protest against government on the
democratic streets of Accra.
It is an
unassailable decision to
exercise our right to bark wo wo wo at the government for its crass
nonsensical occasioning of hardship on Ghanaians. For this, we warn;
ours is no mean fraternity to play with. We shall countenance no
frustration from your office. Indeed, paralysis from the waist down
shall be the least punishment if you dare us.
Find
attached our chosen route and schedule.
attached our chosen route and schedule.
Respectfully,
Brother
E. E. E. Enoch Odenke
E. E. E. Enoch Odenke
(For
The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful)”
The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful)”
I
place the letter and attachment in an envelope and address it: The
Inspector General of Police, Ghana Police Service, Headquarters,
Accra. I dash to the Police Headquarters, five kilometres away, to
deliver the letter. The car responds well; weaving through traffic
with ease. I make the journey, to and fro, in twenty-five minutes. My
mechanic tells me fuel is blood and he is right, very right. There’s
not much to do for the rest of the day. A few applications rest on my
table: a man has lost both legs, another lucky next of kin is making
a bounty claim upon the deceased uncle … Christ! I pray time should
just whizz by and it does.
place the letter and attachment in an envelope and address it: The
Inspector General of Police, Ghana Police Service, Headquarters,
Accra. I dash to the Police Headquarters, five kilometres away, to
deliver the letter. The car responds well; weaving through traffic
with ease. I make the journey, to and fro, in twenty-five minutes. My
mechanic tells me fuel is blood and he is right, very right. There’s
not much to do for the rest of the day. A few applications rest on my
table: a man has lost both legs, another lucky next of kin is making
a bounty claim upon the deceased uncle … Christ! I pray time should
just whizz by and it does.
It
is just as well that time passes quickly. Our notice to the police is
for a lapse of two weeks and I would say it is too much, but now we
have just four days to the march. This is encouraging. Today is
Sunday. I am at home and Naki is gone to church. I telephone the
bearded man.
is just as well that time passes quickly. Our notice to the police is
for a lapse of two weeks and I would say it is too much, but now we
have just four days to the march. This is encouraging. Today is
Sunday. I am at home and Naki is gone to church. I telephone the
bearded man.
“The
Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful,” I address him by his full
title as soon as he picks the call. I bow too. But I realize I am
bowing to the wall and I stop. “Your fellowship, your universal
encompass, I salute your supreme soar.” I salute. Again, I realize
I’m saluting the wall and I stop.
Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful,” I address him by his full
title as soon as he picks the call. I bow too. But I realize I am
bowing to the wall and I stop. “Your fellowship, your universal
encompass, I salute your supreme soar.” I salute. Again, I realize
I’m saluting the wall and I stop.
“Yes
my able lieutenant, well and truly so. I hope you’re gearing up for
the march.”
my able lieutenant, well and truly so. I hope you’re gearing up for
the march.”
“Oh
yes, I’m ready, but pardon me, another view of the matter agitates
my mind. if we’re going to have that many souls pouring onto the
streets of Accra, a million and half souls, as you said, shouldn’t
we just stage an Occupy Movement using social media till the
government is brought down? They say that’s what Egyptians did. It
was on TV. Libya too; Tunisia, Ukraine… I’d create the facebook
page, twitter too, it’s easy.” I say.
yes, I’m ready, but pardon me, another view of the matter agitates
my mind. if we’re going to have that many souls pouring onto the
streets of Accra, a million and half souls, as you said, shouldn’t
we just stage an Occupy Movement using social media till the
government is brought down? They say that’s what Egyptians did. It
was on TV. Libya too; Tunisia, Ukraine… I’d create the facebook
page, twitter too, it’s easy.” I say.
“Brother
Odenke, relax, I told you ours is no social media fanfare. Brother,
revolutions are brought about by real souls. We are bringing together
real souls: witches, wizards, spirits, ghosts, UFOs, fire eaters,
storm gatherers; all in flesh and blood.”
Odenke, relax, I told you ours is no social media fanfare. Brother,
revolutions are brought about by real souls. We are bringing together
real souls: witches, wizards, spirits, ghosts, UFOs, fire eaters,
storm gatherers; all in flesh and blood.”
“Well
…”
…”
“Yes
Brother Odenke, just be ready at the Trade Fair Centre, eight A.M.
sharp. You’ll make a speech at the rally before the march.”
Brother Odenke, just be ready at the Trade Fair Centre, eight A.M.
sharp. You’ll make a speech at the rally before the march.”
“Okay
my The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful! I trust you.”
my The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful! I trust you.”
We
end the call.
end the call.
Finally
the day for the march is here. I’m ready by five forty. I’m clad
in red and I imagine my eyes red-hot; no nonsense!
the day for the march is here. I’m ready by five forty. I’m clad
in red and I imagine my eyes red-hot; no nonsense!
“Enoch,
I need my money.” Naki comes demanding.
I need my money.” Naki comes demanding.
“Ah!
Ah!” Why God sets Naki to tempt me now, I do not know. I refuse to
mind her; the devil.
Ah!” Why God sets Naki to tempt me now, I do not know. I refuse to
mind her; the devil.
“Enoch,
I say I need my money.”
I say I need my money.”
“Okay,
I hear. I’m going.”
I hear. I’m going.”
I
start walking away.
start walking away.
“No,
wait,” Naki stops me, “Where are you going dressed shabbily like
this? Who’s dead? Are you not going to work today? Is that not …
let me see, oh Enoch! You cut my funeral cloth for a wrist band? Why?
Why?” Naki is holding my hand and inspecting me as if I am her
child. “… and where are you going?”
wait,” Naki stops me, “Where are you going dressed shabbily like
this? Who’s dead? Are you not going to work today? Is that not …
let me see, oh Enoch! You cut my funeral cloth for a wrist band? Why?
Why?” Naki is holding my hand and inspecting me as if I am her
child. “… and where are you going?”
“I’m
going to, no, we’re going to put sense into the kolikoli of your
good for nothing government. Next time don’t vote for a useless
government.” I storm out of the house and start my march right
away. This way, I can create more awareness carrying my placard:
‘WICKED GOVT. MAN TAYA!!!’
going to, no, we’re going to put sense into the kolikoli of your
good for nothing government. Next time don’t vote for a useless
government.” I storm out of the house and start my march right
away. This way, I can create more awareness carrying my placard:
‘WICKED GOVT. MAN TAYA!!!’
I
sweep the length and breadth of the Teshie-Nungua road as I make my
way towards the Trade Fair Centre, La. I scale the heights of ramps,
circumvent the circumferences of potholes with deliberate arced
advances or, if put to the challenge, I cut across their diameters
with turbo-strides. My march is brisk but I make sure everyone –
the hawkers, people passing in vehicles, those just waking up, just
everyone, even kiosks dotted along the road – can read my placard.
I am holding it aloft and I can feel how large I spread out on the
road, aided by the breeze from the sea a hundred meters away to my
left. Drivers blast their horns at me to allow them to pass and I
say:
sweep the length and breadth of the Teshie-Nungua road as I make my
way towards the Trade Fair Centre, La. I scale the heights of ramps,
circumvent the circumferences of potholes with deliberate arced
advances or, if put to the challenge, I cut across their diameters
with turbo-strides. My march is brisk but I make sure everyone –
the hawkers, people passing in vehicles, those just waking up, just
everyone, even kiosks dotted along the road – can read my placard.
I am holding it aloft and I can feel how large I spread out on the
road, aided by the breeze from the sea a hundred meters away to my
left. Drivers blast their horns at me to allow them to pass and I
say:
“Yes!
This is it. Government shall fall today.” I march on:
“Tsoooooboi-ya! Heya! Tsoooooboi-ya! Heya!”
This is it. Government shall fall today.” I march on:
“Tsoooooboi-ya! Heya! Tsoooooboi-ya! Heya!”
I’m
almost at the Trade Fair Centre. My ears start picking the sound from
the gathering of the million and half souls. It is getting louder and
louder. This is exciting. I start to jog/run, run/jog. Then I begin
hearing:
almost at the Trade Fair Centre. My ears start picking the sound from
the gathering of the million and half souls. It is getting louder and
louder. This is exciting. I start to jog/run, run/jog. Then I begin
hearing:
“There
he is, there he is. Enoch! Enoch! Hold him, hold him.”
he is, there he is. Enoch! Enoch! Hold him, hold him.”
This
is pleasing to the ears. I am jogging/running, running/jogging; even
faster. Not many people get this appreciated for their efforts. My
organizational skills have clearly paid off.
is pleasing to the ears. I am jogging/running, running/jogging; even
faster. Not many people get this appreciated for their efforts. My
organizational skills have clearly paid off.
“Hold
him, hold him.” I hear them say.
him, hold him.” I hear them say.
About
a million hands grasp me at once and bundle me up like I am a piece
of trophy. I look around for The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful.
I try to pick out those with long beards. He’s nowhere to be found.
Rather I see Naki among the crowd, screaming. I see her mouth move
yabi yabi yabi but I cannot tell what she is saying. I scream back at
her:
a million hands grasp me at once and bundle me up like I am a piece
of trophy. I look around for The Sacred Secretary, Grand and Fearful.
I try to pick out those with long beards. He’s nowhere to be found.
Rather I see Naki among the crowd, screaming. I see her mouth move
yabi yabi yabi but I cannot tell what she is saying. I scream back at
her:
“Naki,
ahaaaa! You see? Naniama! Now you see sense!”
ahaaaa! You see? Naniama! Now you see sense!”
They carry me away.
~~
Download pdf ~ epub ~ mobi
~~
Novisi
Dzitrie was born to Ghanaian parents in Kakata, Liberia and lives
in Ghana. While he was growing up, some of his short stories were
published in The Mirrow, a Ghanaian newspaper. His poem was recently
included in Prairie Schooner’s Fusion 9 and he contributed poems to
the publication of the anthology “Look Where You have Gone To
Sit” edited by Martin Eglewogbe and Laban Hill
Dzitrie was born to Ghanaian parents in Kakata, Liberia and lives
in Ghana. While he was growing up, some of his short stories were
published in The Mirrow, a Ghanaian newspaper. His poem was recently
included in Prairie Schooner’s Fusion 9 and he contributed poems to
the publication of the anthology “Look Where You have Gone To
Sit” edited by Martin Eglewogbe and Laban Hill
~~
Also in This Issue
Short Stories
Poetry
