Please how did the Black Stars fair yesterday against Portugal? I slept off and turned my data off. I didn’t want any problem. Already my BP is high and you want me to kill myself trying to endure the process of shouting ‘ajeish’. ‘ahh’ ooohhh! Kaaiii! Never again! When the game is over, I can always find out the score and be free from football cholesterol.
I was nearly caught yesterday when I got home late from work. You know the only time to tell if your husband has gone to ‘do the thing’ is when you call him once and he does not pick, usually after work. Then he returns the call and as he speaks, you could hear an echo in the background. 90% of chances are that he avoided the first call because he is in the arms of his ‘catch’ or vice versa. He excuses himself to the washroom to call you to lie about where he is so his ‘catch’ would not get to hear the lies you are about to be told. Then you hear the echo in the background. I don’t know what relationship echoes have with washrooms especially hotel room washrooms. Hmmm! I am still apologizing for ‘network problem’. Anyway, it has become the easiest excuse to give nowadays. Like a reckless driver who dies in a car accident. His innocent hometown witches and wizards take the blame. That is the more reason you have to drive responsibly as Christmas fast approaches o, yoo.
Anyway, very soon the successful WASSCE candidates will start scrambling for the courses they wish to pursue when their results are released. The chunk may not get what they want to do. In my time, I’d wanted to be a wanzam but no university offered that so I took it like that. I wasn’t a science student to think of medicine and specialize in Ghanaecology. So there was no way I was going to be admitted to study medicine to become a medical doctor. The reason I couldn’t become a medical doctor was that my hand writing was too nice. I am sure you can read everything I have written here clearly but for medical doctors, they write with pen and only the pharmacists can tell the legibility of their writings! Hahahahaa!
Bedu, if this is the first time you are defying the warning not to read this, then you are in for trouble; very bigggggg trouble. My problem with some of us human beings is why we choose to do the direct opposite of what we have clearly been asked not to do!
Dzifa Anadzi wrote to me from Atlanta, Canada, ei sorry Merica that he read last week’s article on my list of Ewe names and meanings to their names and ‘collapsed’. I warned him not to read but he still ‘raid’ it. ‘Dzifa’ typically is thought to be the name of females not males but hey make no mistake – there are a lot of male ‘Dzifas’.
Dzifa Anadzi in the mid 90s was given his Legonn admission letter and guess his hall of residence on the letter…Voltta Hall! Please remain here if you don’t know the gender orientation of Voltta Hall. Unfortunately he did not notice it until he was driven away by the Hall Master of the Vandal City for registering at the wrong hall. Sadly, I was also around and recorded this in this my useless head and have been keeping it till when he called me from Merica recently. Eeebeeei. Hmmm! Dzifa himself was not moved because according to him, that was his second experience after he gained admission to Acrra Girls for his secondary education! He did only one day at Agiss before he was ‘sacked’ to Accra Hi where he’d actually wanted to be.
Please Togbe, tell our people something la ah! Let ‘Dzifa’ remain a female name forever oo, yoo! Naming males ‘Dzifa’ is becoming a problem for our academic and medical institutions.
Precious Doamekpor (meaning Tempt me and see) nearly died last week at the clinic. While waiting to be admitted in the female ward where a bed was prepared for this homo sapien, it turned out that Precious was a man and the male ward already got full because of the delay in getting him ‘genderly’ identified! His medications included Fostino2 and admitted to the maternity ward! Case close!
My own uncle, Gbagbladza who has 8 boy children didn’t want any more boys. All he wanted was just one girl which he morbidly craved for. Fortunately his wife conceived again and recently gave birth. They were twins – a girl and a boy; he named the girl ‘Advantage’ and the boy … ‘Disadvantage’. Please add their surnames; for a clue, my uncle is called Gbagbladza (cockroach).
One of the things I hated and never wanted to happen to me was to wear spectacles. In 2012 when the doctor says I should start wearing a pair of spectacles, I protested. In fact, I took it but never wanted to use it. Ten years on and I can’t read anything if there is no pair of medicated spectacles around. My wife knows the ‘weakness’ so anytime she needs my attention in the night, she hides my spectacles because without it, there is no way I could be doing ‘useless’ video calls.
Come to think of it, I think that there should be a natural law to prevent husbands and wives from wearing spectacles. During broad day light, we are unable to see everything clearly without spectacles but in the night when the lights are off and we are in bed together, we see ‘everything’ clearly! God is wonderful. I think this was made possible after Jesus had turned water into wine. In the dark, we can see without spectacles but in broad day light, nothing.
This world cup is just reminding me of my days in Motown; Imagine me playing in the school team. ‘Bob Satan’, the Headmaster and his team of Sports Tutors led by Mr Asare didn’t find any useful students than to rely on me to play in the school football team. We never won any single football match in which I played; I played the number 3 position. Every single goal conceded passed through where I was! Sadly there was another ‘useless’ chap, Obulu, a half-caste who played number 11. He was neither a winger, a defender nor of any use. He only added up to the numbers. The dude could be seen in crucial matches chewing sugar cane and in spectacles – he was a science student with plans of studying medicine and a science student in glasses is almost a guarantee that the student is a sharpbrain and can do medicine! It was only the two of us who played football wearing crossed sandals; no soccer boot fit! Why would they! Referees never took us seriously so even in the event of committing a foul, he overlooked it. I remember the day I was extremely tired running around the field with no foot touching a ball hoping that my coach would replace me. He didn’t! I deliberately held on to an opponent’s jersey and brought him down; all in the bid to be shown the red card so I could go and rest! The referee didn’t mind me. I confronted him for his refusal to show me a red card! Still, he allowed me to play. In fact, we struggled to lose matches! Motown was lucky we finished school and our juniors were grateful we were out of the Grey City early! We almost collapsed the sports department. Our continuous stay in Chimota never helped them in soccer. The school, however, did extremely well in hockey and athletics against Accla Aca and Legon Plisec because Obulu and I never got selected for any of these; we were such bad omen. What was I in particular good at? Nothing apart from konkonsa and teasing innocent students who were minding their own business. I occasionally got beaten by some juniors who were better built in muscles than I for making fun of them.
On this unnecessary note where I am not too sure if Mbap3 is playing in the world cup, please have fun during the world cup and watch me play for Ghana and see which direction the cup will go. We shall win by all means. It is a prophetic and biblical: ‘Let the weak say I am strong’ knowing very well you are not as strong! Happy weekend; hate no one but don’t love all! From Qatar, this is Mawuli Zogbenu saying, once in a while, wear your trousers before your singlet just to shame the order of things. Hahahahahahaha!
