NOT A NORTHERN AFFAIR


My name is Farida Shaibu and I am not a terrorist (strike that). My name is Farida Shaibu and I am not a Northerner.

I imagine you want to know which part of the North I come from despite making myself clear. Well, at least Mr Shaibu tells me we are not from any of the three Northern regions in Ghana. Believe me; I understand how you feel because I get that misconception a lot.

“Do you speak Dagomba, Dagbani, Grusi or what?” No, I can only speak Hausa because I am Hausa and my root is Sokoto. My mum is Akan. I was born and raised in Ghana so I’m Ghanaian.

THE 5 MILLION CEDIS PRANK









A section of the Kaneshie marke



When the rain started last Tuesday night around 11pm on 22nd January 2013, I lay in my bed terrified; thinking and wondering what would happen to these cursed Kaneshie market chaps. My heart sank with each thunder strike as I managed to number the souls that would be washed away before the break of dawn. 









I just couldn’t sleep so I had to wake up that night to type this out. 






I had left the house around 4:30pm the previous Monday to get myself a pair of sandals at the Kaneshie market when the incident happened. Even though I had already done my little shopping, I decided to stroll around to see if I could get some few extras to buy. 






At one ‘selection’ joint under the bridge, I felt a splash on my feet and turned. Disgusting! Raw eggs being crashed on the floor? A curse was ongoing right behind me and I had never seen anything like that before. 



“Anyone who touched the phone should be stricken by thunder anytime it rains” said a fuming young man after each crash of the three eggs. My curiosity grew and I got closer to the scene. 






It happened that some of the market guys had intentionally hidden this young man's phone and pretended it had been stolen. He was a colleague of theirs who deals in sandals. After intense searching and interrogation about the item, everyone denied having it in their possession. Apparently, he thought the phone had indeed been stolen so prior to carrying out the ritual, he warned- "anyone who has the phone should return it immediately or face the consequences."






His colleague traders who were enjoying the little prank then kept giggling and teasing him to forget about the phone and buy a new one. They further went ahead to challenge his ability to perform any curse on something as little as a phone. "How much sef is this your China phone?" I heard one guy say.






The outraged phone owner could no longer join in the fun and decided to accept the challenge so he went in for three raw eggs. He wanted to prove to them that he is a man of his words and therefore cannot go back to eat them. So he cursed.






Few minutes after the little display, the boys finally brought out the phone and handed it over to him but he rejected it saying he had already performed the curse. Therefore, he had nothing more to do with the phone. He would rather go for a new one as they had instructed.






Now here I was in my little urban mind, thinking aloud; “We've not had any rains lately and I don't think there is going to be any soon. Maybe this curse might not take effect after all” but indeed I was wrong. It rained the next Tuesday- just a day after the incident.






However, before I left the market that Monday evening, some market elders were called to the scene to take note of the incident. I heard one of them say the young man will be summoned for questioning because it is against the rules of the market for any man to curse another. 






Meanwhile, some market women also suggested that the young man should get a bucket of water to reverse the curse and everything will be back to normal since it was just a little prank. 






Yet, as I laid in bed that night, I couldn’t wait to find out what would happen if the curse hadn't been reversed. I don’t really believe in superstitions whatsoever so I needed to follow up on this one. The next day, I went over to the market again.






After my rounds in town that Wednesday evening, I came to the market to take a walk and to see if the atmosphere would tell me anything- but it didn’t. 






Considering the busy nature of the traders at the time, I knew nothing had happened so I decided to leave without being nosy. Fortunately on my way out, I met this jeans seller whom I noticed was the lead actor (guy who hid the phone). 



Alas! I was able to get the full details of what happened by pretending I wanted to buy one of the jeans trousers. 






Me: (Taking a trouser from him). This trouser looks nice. How much is it?






Jeans Seller: it’s only GHC18. How much will you give?






Me: Well, I don’t have money on me now but it seems you are one of the guys who were involved in last Monday’s “phone and curse” issue right?






Jeans seller: (Smiling) Yes. In fact, what happened here last Monday was very unfortunate but we’ve all learnt from it.






Me: Well, I was watching your little display from behind. So what happened afterwards? Did the guy reverse the curse? 






Jeans seller: Of course, we spent about GHC500 that day to buy some items demanded by the fetish priest.






Me: Really? You mean five million old Ghana cedis? That’s a lot of money. What did the priest demand and who paid for all that money?






Jeans seller: Well, the money was used to buy three fowls, a bottle of schnapp, a white cloth, gin and other items which I can’t remember to reverse the curse.






Me: Oh okay. So who paid for the money? You or the guy who cursed?






Jeans Seller: I actually paid GHC50 and the guy’s brother also made a contribution but all the other boys here were asked to pay an amount else we won’t be allowed to trade here again.






Me: Hmmm, that must really be a big lesson to all of you. I hope nothing of this sort ever happens.






Jeans Seller: Yea, we were all summoned by the elders and they warned us not to repeat such incident here in the market. The guy’s phone has been given to him so there is no problem. 






Me: Are you sure he took back the phone or he went to sell it out?






Jeans Seller: Yes he took it back. The fetish priest has already reversed the curse so nothing would happen to him.






Me: Which fetish priest did you consult?






Jeans Seller: We have a fetish priest here in the market so our elders had to go and see him for the ritual. It was done that same day after the items were bought so I am sure everything is fine now.






Me: I see. I remembered all about you when it started raining last Tuesday night. So tell me; were you scared then?






Jeans Seller: (Smiling). Of course I was. I know the impact of some of these things but since we had already reversed it, I was sure nothing would happen to me.






Me: Okay. Next time you should know who to joke with. I can see that young man is very volatile and you people shouldn’t have played that prank on him.






Jeans Seller: Yes. Don’t mind him, we are all traders here and he knows how we behave sometimes so we were actually taken aback when he went to that extent. 






However, I think it’s a lesson for us all not to mess with other peoples stuff. I am happy steps were taken to dissolve the case immediately.






Me: (Satisfied) Okay thank you. I will buy one of the jeans the next time I come over. Regard me as your customer now. Bye!






Some jokes are expensive they say. This one actually went for a good GHC500. Who'd have thought?

HEART ON TOP- An Intriguing Trotro Palaver

If you live in the capital and cannot afford your own car, or the "ecomini" does not allow you to pick a taxi (dropping) to your destination, then be prepared to stand in an elongated queue, struggling for a commercial bus (trotro) or fighting with the conductor (mate) for taking too much of your money. Such is city life!

On my way home from Osu last Saturday afternoon, I didn't have to go through any of this "wahala" though I have no private car. Let's say I wanted to dodge the sun from lashing me with its hot rays so I made a plan. From the GBC bus stop where I stood, I waited patiently for a straight bus to the Kaneshie market so I could pick another straight home to Awoshie. That way, I wouldn't have to walk the usual 500 meters before getting home. 

Believe me, I've had my own trotro encounters at a number of lorry parks but this is not to be compared to my earlier posts- Curse under the bridge or Thursday the 13th which happened at the Kaneshie and Kasoa lorry stations respectively. This is something different; hilarious, interesting and intriguing. Lay back and read on!

Upon reaching the Kaneshie market, I head straight to the A-Lang station where a driver yells and directs passengers to his bus. The rickety nature of this trotro gets me wondering. But to say I’m not used to such askew buses driving to my neighborhood is a total lie. “Ah! But why is this old driver loading the bus all by himself? Where is the mate?” I murmur as I entered steadily.

“A-Lang, last one!” he calls out to a lady approaching to board the bus. Apparently, there is no mate so she sits in his seat.

As we move out of the market, the driver pleads with her to collect our fares and she did. On reaching "First light" (few meters from Kaneshie market) to join the traffic jam, suddenly the door of the trotro begins to slide down- the driver has to do something quickly to fix it before the traffic starts moving. Too late, the green light is on and we have to move.

All this while, our acting mate supports the door with her arm,  waiting for the driver to find a safe place to park and fix it. After some minutes of struggle , he eventually adjusts the door and sets off to continue the voyage.

At this moment, I'm keeping my cool; smiling and sucking on a yogurt ice cream thinking this is going to be one interesting ride. Do I have any option? Yes! Get out and pick another bus. No! If I alight, I won't get another bus to take me straight home so let's all endure it and pray. I'm not the only one in this situation after all. Although some of these passengers have an "are-we-there-yet?" look on their faces, they are all reluctant to get down.  

Oops! the door goes down again just as we join the Odorkor highway. Already, our lady mate is looking quite tired by the huge task given her. Her arms can no longer support the door. She had waited for a bus to take her home but surely didn't bargain for an internship to be a bus conductor on this rickety trotro.

Oh my God! Her arms won't let her and she's about to let go of the door on the highway. Suddenly, a man in the front seat, next to the driver stretches out his hand backwards to support the door, hoping the driver will get to the nearest available bus stop to fix this mess for the second time. Don't over speed but he is.

He overtakes several cars, accelerating with a very irritating engine noise. Our "savior" holds on while we do the complaining. "Better slow down before the worse happens" the passengers caution him as if they aren't fed up with the ride already. If a police officer stops us now, I’m sure the best explanation would be “oh, the problem started just this afternoon and I was about to go see my mechanic.” But you and i know that's just a white lie that will in fact, only cost 1GHCedi or is it now 5GHCedi?.

Eventually, the bus gets to Barn yard (a bus stop en route Awoshie, just along the Mallam-Lapaz H1N1 highway) and makes a stop to drop some of the passengers- those who are lucky to make it safely to their destination. The grey-haired driver immediately takes advantage of the moment and quickly gets off to fix the door once and for all but this time it would not budge.

No wonder. I think the door is fed up with all the "nonsense" and it needed to see a mechanic. So what happens now that this door has given up on us? Should we remove it and place it on top of the car and drive on?

Yes, this is exactly what we are going to do. Surprised? You ain't seen nothing yet.

With our lady mate back on duty after guy-in-the-front had alighted, the driver carefully carries the gate and places it cautiously on top of the car without securing it. "Like seriously? This is how we are going to continue the journey? Mbano!" my mind speaks to me but the body was bent on riding in this moving coffin to the last- hopefully, to see what is going to happen. Meanwhile, if you still don’t have any reason why this country is still battling with the increasing number of road accidents, then you just got one.

Now our bus is "doorless." Those at the front row have to sit with care to avoid any "by force landing" on the street. Driving from Barn Yard to A-Lang is approximately 10 minutes but the ongoing road construction is making it quite uneasy to drive on. So think about this. If correct cars are driving slowly and steadily, what will our own “abongo” car do? That's right! So we crawled.

So here we were; from the then "racing car" to a now "tortoise-like creature". You should see me in it. Hilarious but frightening. “What if the door drops from the bus to hit a pedestrian? Will you just say sorry or you will drop us down to rush the victim to the hospital?” I ask the driver who all along hasn't uttered a word. 

Considering his grey hair and posture, he should be thrice a score. Perhaps, reason why some of the passengers didn't give him hell- they respect him. En route, some pedestrians greeted us with wonder and disgust. They laughed and pointed fingers at us as we rode steadily along the street. “Look at that bus without a door," one boy said. "But where is it?" another exclaimed. "Oh! On top of the bus…hahaha.” 


Now we are gearing up to make the last turn at Abrantie (the junction leading to A-Lang) and we must muster courage. Today be today- asem b3ba dabi. I now hold on to my seat firmly and shake my head to every squeak from the door at the top. Meanwhile, I can't resist watching the driver slowly and skillfully taking the curve carefully to keep the door from falling. At this point, i trust he is summoning all his "krachi powers"- in fact, every little trick he had learnt since his days of being a spare driver to the driver himself and now a car owner, perhaps.  All his driving skills comes into being; turning the steering wheel with some sort of experience, he finally makes it!

Onlookers watch in complete awe, as if to clap, as the doorless bus finally maneuvers its way unto the other side of the road. You can call him a veteran but wait till we get to the final destination. Even on this fine and tarred road leading to my hood (yea, it's a mini estate, lol) this driver keeps a slow pace on the shoulders of the road to give way for better cars. He dare not speed up since he has our hearts on top of the bus, literally. We've come too far to allow anything to go wrong. In a few minutes this nightmare will be over.

Actually, it is over! 

But wait! Let me get my camera and share this with you. Picture no lie abi? Interestingly,  you will realize that there are some new passengers trying to get on board. Any message for them? 

Well, if you are reading this now then trust me, miracles do happen. I am finally home and before writing this, I gulp down some cold water. Charlie, Girls abr3!

Comment  and share.  

Poetry Corner





  


There she goes! Twisting and spinning like she’s won a lottery. Do you blame her? 6 million cedis Peruvian hair nicely woven on her skull in a way that makes her blush

World trade center bag effortlessly fixed on the radius of her arm without a dash
Off to town she sets, cat-walking and parading herself like a model
Where to? Do I even know?

She strides elegantly thinking the world lies in her Gucci purse
People stare and watch with gruesome faces as if to “ssss” and tell her the mess
In her naïve mind, she thinks aloud- “damn I look hot!”

Sorry Miss! Your leggings is screening a lot
As if she cares? Oh yea, she’s aware!
She flirts with the tune of the wind swaying her away
Spontaneous smiles transmits to baffled street admirers who don’t really give a fuss

Excuse me miss, your hair is a mess!
Unaware, she still thinks “damn I look hot!”
Now who will be bold to tame this lioness?
Oh yes she is! Just be sure she doesn’t mistaken you for a prey
She looks red but it’s a pity, she’s unaware

Oh tell her! Please tell her, her butt is painted
Tell her, her hair is raised
Tell her, her bra is showing
Tell her, her zipper is open

Please don’t forget to tell her that she rather looks horrible
0ops! Smiles are fading now and anxiety steps in
Now she knows and she is tamed
She got nothing to say but I got something to say to her

When you walk along the street and you feel people staring at you
It is just one of two reasons
Either you look hot or you look horrible
Don’t be too quick to conclude for the former when you haven’t rechecked

At least I have told you!
  
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