Mawuli Zogbenu is the author
Why is it that the people with the biggest problems are always those who don’t mind their own business? Don’t worry; I am referring to myself because today is Fridayyyyyyy! Hahahahahaha! Happy yourself now o because problem no dey finish.
When C-19 appears to have been dealt with, monkey-P too say it has come. We taya sef! What can come should come; we shall overcome!
You remember I sojourned abroad before and used the name ‘Mr Rosemond’ to work. Because it was not my real name, my supervisors would call my name saaaaaaa right in my face and yet, I won’t hear!
I became speech impaired and hearing challenged by force all bcos of nokofio! ‘My whiteman supervisor would be standing right before me and be shouting: “Mr Rosemond, Mr Rosemond’, yet I won’t hear anything. Ei! Abrokyire living? Hmmm!
While on the streets of abroad one day, I caught the heart of a beautiful white woman whom I helped to carry something into the booth of her car. We fell in love moments after. I was 25 years old then.
The age gap was not much; she was only 74! I liked her bcos her looks were similar to those of my mother’s elder sister, Daavi Agbanor. She was pretty with her veins partially exposed with a nice set of ‘manageable’ teeth though I later discovered those teeth were artificial. She said she wanted us to marry.
I embraced the idea knowing it was my dream to get married to an obroni. People would be singing for me in my village: ‘Yevu Yevu Bonso3…Nyama Nyama Bonso3! At least that would guarantee a total elimination of my ancestral poverty!
She wasn’t as sexy as I expected but this is a fine opportunity to get my papers too. I was physically very lanky then and for somebody like that to agree to marry me only tells me her problems may be bigger than mine! The veins in my neck were on display.
In my village, it is called ‘gakli meets gakpey’ (scrap metal meets granite stone)! But I have to ‘sacrifice’ as it was a timely intervention to scrap poverty from the family tree!
Until I travelled abroad, I didn’t know it was that difficult to get young white ladies to marry o, herh! So I managed this ‘grandma’ of mine as my wife but what bothered me was her lack of interest in giving birth again though at 74! Was I really bothered? Maybe not!
Then the wedding took place in a church with very few people, I had no relatives attending bcos they were refused their visas. I was happy bcos my senior brother Abraham Zogbenu of UG would kill me if he saw me marrying someone as old as my grandmother. The least he would do if he was present would be to laugh at me later till I faint; I know him. My Brother can tease, herh!
But I didn’t mind bcos the oyibo people made me believe age is nothing but a number. That thing is not true o. If in doubt, why aren’t Yegola and Abedi still playing for the Black Stars?
‘You may kiss the bride’ Kai! It was a difficult situation but man must survive; I managed to ‘pass that test’ somehow. My brother, you should be there to see the anger on my face at the time I was compelled by my poor background in poverty to say ‘I do’ Ei! Do what?
Then we were to sign the marriage certificate and the church had many apartments and the place we signed it was the same place we had our refreshment. It was a kind of apartment called CONDOMINIUM. That was the first time I got to know that the word ‘condom’ could actually be found in some church buildings.
Nothing annoyed me more than having to address my grandma as ‘Honey Honey’ in every utterance that came from my mouth.
The wahala after marriage? Ala! Anyway they say ‘for better for worse’! Today she is fine, tomorrow, I had to deal with one medical condition or the other including an unrepentant osteoporosis in her knees.
The visits to the hospitals? you can’t count! She would often let me carry her at the back from the top floor to the ground floor before driving her to an infirmary. Poverty no good o! All I wanted was papers. After all, weytin concern trotro aplankey with overload!
Every weekend, we had to go out jogging together and she had a walking stick and kissing in public was not frowned upon by their culture. You should see that woman and I as husband and wife walking the streets of abrokyire and you would know ‘old age labour’ is as real as ‘child labour’. Besides, she was extremely jealous and suspicious of every single phone call I made or received from Accra.
She often threatened me with extradition and divorce even though by virtue of our marriage I was already a citizen. I recall the day my pastor back in Ghana asked me to send him a picture of myself and my wife. God is good!
He saw it and fainted as he covered it up with the excuse that the Holy Spirit was at work! I agreed with him and indeed it was only the Holy Spirit that got me surviving this marriage albeit for a short while. Since then, I vowed never to send any picture to anybody again.
As for bedmatics, as to how I was going to do it, just imagine. She liked talking and could talk aaaaaaaa till I fall asleep and when I do, she would wake me up to continue talking, talking, talking. Habaa!
Her meals were made of uncooked leaves. Raw garlic and lettuce were in abundance after which I had a daunting task kissing and it was a MUST! Eish!
She’s always upset with one thing or the other and I blame it on cultural differences.
I wanted my own kids but with a 74-year-old ‘grandma’ who has declared her intentions not to ‘born’, a plan B was looming. I needed to come down to Ghana to ‘plant a seed’; she followed me.
She was everywhere I passed and my friends were just laughing at me. She said we should visit the mall in Accra. Whaat! Well, I gave in and at the mall, she wanted me to be holding her, arm-in-arm and holding her by the waist. At this point, the Naija song, ‘All I need is your waist’ didn’t appeal to me anymore.
The small boys and girls around kept their fone cameras on us. We made it back to abroad. I remember the day she forced me to post the picture of the two of us on fasebook and forced me to caption the picture: ‘Me and my Baby”! ‘Baby’ at 74? Ao! What kind of poverty alleviation program is this, I kept asking myself in annoyance! We went to a programme together and we were supposed to write down our names. You won’t believe this – my Mama wrote: ‘Mrs. Zogbenu’. Whose Mrs? I became furious and asked her to change it to her maiden name and precede it with ‘Ms’.
It was then I educated her on the differences. ‘Mrs.’ is someone who has declared her marital status and insists on using ‘Mrs.’ (I didn’t want Awony3 to declare anything); ‘’Ms’ is used for a person who you are not sure whether she is married or not and so to be on the safer side, just ‘Ms’ it! ‘Ms with a dot ie ‘Ms.’ is one who is the ‘wife’ to married man or has been married before or widowed! Simple. I didn’t even know where to categorise Mama. I confronted her and insisted she should use ‘Ms’ something something and let me be free. Ah!
The day this Mamaga discovered that I was in a serious relationship in Ghana was the day I found myself back at Kotoka in slippers but I am fine thank you and you? Marriage of convenience? Never again! Sammy, so you believe all these lies? Hahahaa! You have no problem!
Enjoy the weekend and remember the best way to avoid stress is to stop going to work and see how hunger will finish you! Hahaaa!
