Turkson – the Son of a Turkey

It was Saturday morning so as usual I trekked to one of the most patronized African stores looking for a flyer that announces an evening event. I had three flyers – all free events – to choose from. I quickly dismissed the first one. It was an imported funeral. Someone was organizing a funeral for the niece of her mother-in-law’s friend’s sister, who’d died about five years ago back home. The relationship between the host and dead person was far too non-consanguineous. Anyway, this type of “fundraising” is not for Sakabo, not in my present predicament as a guest of the Ministry of Housing, Section 8 Home Division, and without any weekly or monthly stipend from any source. Besides, I did not think there’d be much by way of booze.

The second flyer was an all-day naming ceremony in someone’s home.  I detest private home events because for one thing, you cannot enjoy yourself without preying eyes trailing or tailing you. Plus, you cannot eat, drink, dance and leave without making a donation. The third flyer was God-sent. It announced the outdooring of twins in a spacious downtown hotel – free. I uttered “thank you” to Akuamoah Nyame, my ancestral family God. I went to the place late in the evening and was not disappointed. Because it was an event for twins, everything was doubled – food, drinks, and even the birds. “This is my turf” I said in a manly resolution as I sneaked to take what seemed like the last available seat. I realized that the five others on my table were all birds – young and beautiful ones.

“Good evening ladies” I greeted. The response wasn’t all that great, but I didn’t go there to greet and be greeted. I went there to get away from that witch landlady of mine and to have a good time. “Any of you care for a drink” I asked. The one sitting close by asked for an orange juice while the rest said nothing. I came with three shots on the rocks and an unopened can of orange juice without a cup. Suddenly, the place was livened with a popular song and the birds flew onto the dance floor, except the one close who’d asked for a drink.

I took a cursory look at her and told her I liked her flowing dress. She smiled and thanked me and cutely reminded me that I forgot to add a cup to the orange juice. “Awura,” I started“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t want the barman to fill it up” In places such as this, never drink from a cup that’s filled in your absence, and especially from someone you barely know. Now I can go get you a cup so it’s poured in your presence. She was genuinely surprised with the honesty and insight. No, no, no, she protested. I’ll drink from the can.

“Smart one” I praised her. What’d you do? she wanted to know. Since you started the preamble, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you do for a living, I urged her. “I am a practicing attorney” And your name? I probed. She pulled a business card and handed it to me. Hmmm I sighed. “What?” she asked. Nothing, Leticia Lorna Turkson esquire, I pronounced audibly. I thought you were an African Ms. Turkson or is it Mrs. Turkson? Of course, I am an African and a Ghanaian and it’s Ms. Turkson, but you can call me Leticia. Now you tell me Mister, what do you do? “Nothing” I reply.

She seemed hurt but didn’t want to show it. “And your name?” Kwasi Sakabo, I replied again. “Why do you want to insult me” she sadly opined. “I put it to you that I don’t lie to women, your Honor. And I am also unmarried,” I added before she could ask. This is all the truth, nothing but the truth about Kwasi Sakabo from the Holy village of Addo Nkwanta. For heaven’s sake can you stop these legal semantics, she pleaded. Is it really true your name is what you told me? I swear by Akuamoah Nyame! Stop it!!! she shouted above the blasting music, I don’t like those things to be invoked in my presence. Do you believe me then? Yes, I do, she said resigningly.

You said you are not working, why? Nkrataa! I said as a matter of fact. Can I come see you in your Chambers for help then? “Which Chambers, home or office?” she teased.  “Both” would be nice, I said encouragingly. “You seem so intelligent and good mannered. I wouldn’t mind about your current status because there could be a way out, but your name.

“What’s wrong with my name? I asked her. It’s too kokooase nkurasefuo name. Where are you from? She wanted to know. I told her but I sensed she was disappointed. The way you pronounce “r” gave you away but …… Where do you think I come from? I cut her off before she could finish. Let’s leave it as is because I don’t want to get into the dirty ethnic stuff in Ghana.

Listen up, baby. At least, Kwasi Sakabo is a name with identity more than the stolen identity of Leticia Lorna Turkson? What does Leticia or Lorna mean? Turkson could mean the son of a guy from Turkey but you are a female. Anyway, I have seen ladies from your area called Yamson (the son of a yam farmer, maybe pona), Fishson (the son of a fish, maybe tilapia) and the likes. Or maybe your father has a turkey farm. Akuamoah Nyame, so you are Krokroba!!! She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

How about if you were to become Mrs. Sakabo? I put it to her. It could happen, but my friends would make fun and laugh at me, she volunteered. “For being married?” No, it’s the name thing. Can’t you anglicize it to Qwazi Sacks or something like that? “Like what? I asked but she couldn’t explain. “Woman” I started, “Kwasi Sakabo is a sacred name given to me in a religious ceremony. It has cultural and spiritual meaning and you want me to shorten it to Qwazi, a name of Arabic heritage and Sacks, a European identity? Did you learn that in Law School?” I asked.

I would suggest you bleach your skin to fit your name. I am yet to see a European called Kwasi Sakabo. You know why? I put it to her again. “No, why?” she asked. “Because they are not out of their minds. “School without education is dangerous.” I pointed out to her. “But I have my Law degree” she defended. That’s exactly the point I am trying to make. School degree has nothing to do with education. Structured classroom lectures cannot educate the mind because it lacks thought-provoking wisdom. Otherwise, why wouldn’t and couldn’t you understand that your prime identity has to reflect your socio cultural and religious environment. “You have a point there” she conceded. Which day were you born? “Tuesday” she told me. Your name therefore should have been Abena Krokroba, a name no white person can claim or even ape! Now all what we need to do is perform the naming rites. And that can be done between the two of us in your Chambers!

Happy Independence Holidays, Abena Krokroba!

Posted by on Jul 15 2021. 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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