I am beginning to think my name is jinxed. I wish I had gotten a name change. I would be better still going by the name that my father, Mr. Whiteman, gave to me at birth. He christened me Gold Coast, when he saw me come from my mother's womb with that sparkling gold spoon in my mouth. Like King Midas touch, I was all gold. Like King Midas with asses´ ears, I could hear nothing but the whispers of you are all magnificently gold, Lady Beautiful?
I was pampered by my father. On my birth, he instantaneously became rich and was accorded respect wherever he went. He was proud of me and I produced more gold to continuously rekindle his pride in me. What happened then? The very sons of my womb rose up against their father. They could not understand why their father bore a scorched white skin while they were chocolate coloured. They had come to conclude their father, his cousins, sisters and brothers did not like them. They had come to think that their father was fleecing his own children in an unprecedented wicked manner. They would then agitate for their freedom, kick his arse hard, and send him scuttling down the savannah shrubs of Africa to whence he came, the land of snow and biting winter.
Even though I loved my husband to bits, my later-to-turn-into-evil sons and daughters chased their father into exile. They took over the good work that their father was doing thinking they could do it much better. In the course of aspiring to emulate or out-perform their father, they left me a complete widow. In less than no time, my sons had begun to have animus against each other and began going their own separate ways.
They began fighting among themselves and pursuing purely selfish and greedy agenda. In the end, they have blemished my beauty, ripped me bare of all my gold. I am now nobody but a wretched middle-aged poor woman. I look far older than my actual age of fifty-six years. There are far too many eyesore wrinkles on my face, all because of the needless worries, stress and excruciating pains so bitterly inflicted on me by the deplorable actions of my children, coupled with the fact that I very dearly miss my husband.
That the fruits of my own womb are simply devil incarnates cannot be overstated. There is no more a smile on my face. They have completely wiped it off. I am certain no man will ever again walk into my life as wretched and dejected as my sons have left me. I am too frail. My legs can no longer carry my ghost-like body. My legs give out when I stand on them. I will soon be consigned to my deathbed, strapped to the rails, in case I fall over. Look at how wicked children can cause the speedy death of their mother, oh wicked children of Mother Ghana.
Now, they have started robbing me of the little money I have saved to see me through to my death. They are cunningly dishing out my little savings in what are dubious judgment debt payments. Where there is no contract signed, some are able to assist their fellow criminal brothers and sisters to put in a claim for compensation for a breach of contract. My very sons elected as trustees to manage my little wealth for the collective benefit of all, have secretly been coaching a few those they share same devilish greedy interests with, to come forward with fake documents to claim chunks of my savings in what are judgment debt payments.
Oh, if I knew, I should have sat on their heads at birth to send them back to whence they came, as greedy bastards, evil dwarfs and babies with sharp teeth as they are. I will curse them until their total annihilation if they continue to disgrace me.
When Mother Ghana speaks, all ears must hear and do as requested to avoid perpetual condemnation to generational curse coming upon them. May we change for the better, all the children of Mother Ghana, to help wipe off the tears streaming down her cheeks in beads? This will be the only way to cheer her up; bring smiles back to her face.
Repent. Cease rigging elections. Cease accepting bribes. Cease declaring false election verdicts. Cease arranging to have Presidential Election Statements (Pink sheets) fictitiously signed. Cease tampering with, or stealing "pink" sheets and biometric verification machines. Cease lying to your brothers and sisters when you dubiously arrange with people to present papers to be paid judgment debts. Cease whipping up tribal sentiments to win elections. Cease engaging in under cover of darkness (nefarious) meetings and activities with judges with intent to persuade them to rule in your favour when you know too well that you have lost the election.
The above are my ten commandments I bequeath to you before I kick the bucket. May the mother of all generational curses come upon any of you parties involved in Election 2012 fraud case pending in the Supreme Court should you break, or continue to break, any of the above commandments.
