KOBY'S CORNER: HOLYGOES FIRE!

KOBY'S CORNER: HOLYGOES FIRE!: Rev. Fr. Okpojah sanctimoniously stepped into the class. The noisy class immediately became as silent as a cemetery.  The Religio...

A LETTER TO MY FATHER-IN-LAW

Retired Major Boateng I presume you would be called

I bring you good tidings from my home, especially my kid sister

I guess you have seen me with Baaba, your daughter, a few times

Yes, I’m not her course mate, if that’s what you think

I’m neither her church member, I barely even go to church

As a matter of fact, I want to make her the bearer of my ten seeds

And… are you serious about the dowry?

Did you say I needed to pay a thousand Ghana cedis which was the worth of a bottle of Schnapps? Like seriously?

That buys an ultra-modern laptop ooo, you know!

And, I don’t even have a second- hand desktop, not to talk of a laptop

If only a drink for the gods is costing that much, I’m not surprised you say I should pay two thousand Ghana cedis for only six yards of GTP  

If you care to know, I’ve been wearing affordable ‘the-white-man-is-dead’ for as long as I can remember because I know very well I can’t afford Printex, Woodin or even GTP

Baaba even loves the ‘oburoniweewu’ more than I do. Ask her

She showed me a tall list of other to-buy items on the dowry form

Let me ask you, Mr. Boateng. You say you go to church. Don’t you want us to fulfill God’s task of us multiplying and filling the Earth or you’re just trying to be rebellious?

How much did Adam pay to God for Eve? If even the father of all men, who lived in the abundance of food in the Eden garden under God’s economy, paid nothing for the first woman, how heartlessly can you ask an unemployed graduate like me to pay as much as five thousand Ghana cedis for bride price, under such suffocating Mahamaic economic conditions?  

Do you care to know how much the Brazilian hair she wears costs? As much as eight hundred cedis! I pay for it every two months.

I guess she asked you for money to buy skin-toning creams like ages ago. It’s not as though she doesn’t use them any longer. I pay at least two hundred cedis for them every three months.

I paid for her one thousand Ghana cedis worth iPhone last month.

When last did you pay for her lecture notes and church offertory? Of course you can’t remember but I took over from where you stopped.

When you were in other war-torn countries fighting for peace, I was doing same here in GH, warding off blood-thirsty mosquitoes from her succulent skin.

I have paid half of her fees before; that was somewhere last academic year, when you used all your peace-keeping earnings on lotto.

Retired Major, I’m not well- versed in calculations but if you sum up all my expenses made, I suppose you even have a deficit to pay me.

I won’t talk. I’ll just give you my account number for you to deposit into it the about two thousand Ghana cedis, after deducting your five thousand cedis.

As I said, I won’t talk because I‘ve seen your son, Fiifi, around my kid sister, whom I’ve been taking care of for some time now.

He comes here in the name of studying with her but I know Nana Akua is a medical student and Fiifi studies archaeology; unless he wants to tell me that archaeology is a synonym of medicine. 

Have you heard of the latest Samsung Galaxy tablet? Ask of the price because that would be the least item he’s going to buy on my dowry list.

I even want him to buy the latest Mercedes C class when the time is due but because he runs errands in calling Baaba for me sometimes, I’ll have pity on him; he would buy only two Hummers!

Ask Baaba for my account number. I’ll be expecting my money by the close of working day tomorrow because I need it to buy some diapers for my first seed she’s carrying.  This is your yet-to-be son and father-in-law *feeling annoyed*!

Reply from Retd. Major Boateng: Oh, you should have said all of these all this while. As for my son Fiifi, he definitely would be your son-in-law, too. He just told me about his marriage plans yesterday. And did you say I’m going to be a grandfather? Goodness! Look, Baaba is even here. I’ve been forcing her to marry you as soon as possible. Come for her any day, anytime. In fact, come for her today. I was only testing you with that supposed dowry list. You have passed. Just forget bride price. If you have any two- sure, let me know. Ok?  Son-in-law papapaaa!

NB; When coming, prepare for your funeral, too. I would test my never- used AK- 47 on you. Let me see if you pass that, too *feeling anxious*!

HOLYGOES FIRE!

Rev. Fr. Okpojah sanctimoniously stepped into the class. The noisy class immediately became as silent as a cemetery. 

The Religious and Moral Education teacher walked leisurely in the aisle and asked, “What did we study the last time we met?” The class remained silent, as though no one heard him. We had an idea of the previous lesson which was about something fire but almost all of us had forgotten. 

Kwaku Peter, a pastor’s son, raised his hand. We heaved. Someone had come to our rescue. “Holy…” he began. The priest interrupted “Clap for him!” even before he could finish. 

 

We all chorused “Headmaster!” amidst the resounding applause. Kwaku Peter was so called because of his unusually big head. The cheers soon died out.

“Who can spell Holy ghost fire?” the priest dared. The class was silent again. Headmaster swiftly raised his hand once again, to our greatest pleasure. The reverend father sighed.

“Kwaku Peter, kindly stand up and walk up here” he instructed him. “Look at the serious student” he admired. Headmaster strutted to the front.

“If these we-refuse-to-think colleagues of yours have decided not to use their heads, I would force them to. Go round and show them how to think; a knock each!” he yelled.

Headmaster smiled. “Today you will see!” he whispered to Taiwo and me; the first seat occupants.

Taiwo, a Nigerian who after staying home learning a trade for God knows how long, had come to Ghana to school with us as a class three pupil. Goodness! He was old; as old as Olele.  

It was Headmaster’s payback time. Our sins? Earlier that morning, Taiwo had denied him a morsel of his gargantuan loaf of hard, crunchy tea bread. I, on the other hand, had also denied him the pleasure of playing my tselensa football a day earlier during break time.  

Headmaster paced menacingly towards us. There was no way either of us could feign illness to avoid his vengeance because the teacher had caught both of us arguing briskly earlier.

Headmaster grabbed Taiwo’s head and in a matter of seconds had already sunk two hefty knocks into his brain. Taiwo whined “Chineke. This boy don kill me finish!” 

The surprised priest cautioned “I said just one oo!” Headmaster nodded, grabbed Taiwo’s head and revengefully gave him another knock.

“Ah!” the priest exclaimed. “You said one so I started again!” Headmaster explained. “Ok. Just go on” he was hinted. 

All too soon, he was done knocking all thirty of us; heartlessly. He was panting for breath. “Now show them how to think. Spell it” the teacher demanded.

“H-O-L-Y-G-O-E-S-F-I-R-E” Headmaster screamed exuberantly. 

“Heeeerh!” the priest gaped. “This boy paaa!” he imagined. “Everyone should give him a knock, starting from Taiwo” he added. 

“I don kill this Headmastor boy today!” the infuriated Taiwo swore. Headmaster quickly dashed out of the class; the last that was ever seen of him.