Jobless and almost homeless

After Pastor John had thrown me out of the church, I strolled aimlessly along a busy avenue, window-shopping. I had no job, and Yaa Mary, my hostess and girlfriend had asked me to find my own place. I guess she’d had enough of me, not bringing home any income. Being thrown out of Church and home is a double-whammy only a few can shoulder, especially here in the U.S. It seems to me that for the first time, Papa Sakabo had been proven wrong, for once upon a time, back in the Holy Village he had advised me: “son, if life gets real tough, make good use of your manhood, and you can be assured of a square meal, shelter and clothing.
Women like real men. The alternate is to work your butt off or pay your way through love and life” he added in between swigs of palm wine. “So you see” he continued, as he gulped the last frothy liquid, “it’s easier to utilize your God-given endowment than toil when in dire need,” Papa Sakabo philosophized. “And remember to spit out any stray child that mistakenly enters your scrotum,” All Sakabo sons have a moral responsibility to contribute their share to the human population” he preached. “Pay attention to the advice,” Mama Sakabo cut in, “for your Papa is a real man. Why else at this age and in this rickety life, I still hang around him. He comforts me with his rod and staff, anytime I am moody. “And I tell you Kwasi”, continued the matriarch Sakabo “you may build a mansion for your wife, but if you under-perform, you’ll come find your house boy on top of her” Mama predicted. I nodded my head in agreement and saw Papa with a smile of approval.
As he continued his advice, a khebab man hawking his ware passed by. Hei! Kyikyinga man, I want some. He came over with his stuff tilted at an angle on his head. “So when you attend to nature’s call in a public toilet, do you go in there with the khebab or leave the stuff outside?” I asked him. “Go ask your mother and your father!” he angrily cursed. “Hei Kyikyinga wura, I am his father and I haven’t insulted you,” Papa Sakabo accused. The man ignored us and walked away calling attention to his stuff “suiya de, suiya de.”
The palm wine we were drinking was odoka, and it was a matter of time that I excused myself to attend to nature’s call. When odoka knocks you better respond ASAP or risk soiling yourself. I hurried into the nearest public toilet; and lo and behold, in the very first cubicle, squatting with his ware right in front of him was the khebab man. But it wasn’t his contorted face that attracted my attention. Boy, the guy was huge, if you know what I mean.
This was indeed the real type of man Papa Sakabo was talking about. Why wouldn’t he use his manhood instead of peddling khebab? The man needs Papa’s salesmanship skills. I was fixated for a while and pointing down, asked him, “Could I borrow this thing for a duel tonight?” He instantly recognized me and attempted to rise to in a menacing way, but squatted right back as he realized where he was and what he was doing. “Your mother and your father,” he told me again in between hard pushes. The man, without doubt, had serious constipation, I concluded.
As I rounded a curve I suddenly bumped into or rather someone bumped into me. “Are you blind?” he angrily asked. “Oh! Asuo, but this is just mpu-ne mpu” I responded. “What the hell is mpu-ne mpu?” he wanted to know. “You just experienced one” I snapped back and quickly vanished into thin air among the crowd. In the Holy Village men settle misunderstanding with fistfights. But this is America where fistfights are confined to classrooms among teens and squabble among men are settled with guns and knives. I have no desire to meet my Creator that way. I sat on a park bench to munch on banana and peanut and reflected on my past. Indeed it is the foreigner that eats the blind fowl. Here I sit, jobless and on the verge of being homeless. On Valentine Day, Yaa Mary gave me the marching orders out of her life. What could have gone wrong? Kwasi Sakabo found out later.

Kwasi Sakabo is a sequel that must be followed to be understood.

Posted by on Oct 17 2014. Filed under Artcultainment. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

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