I accidentally ran into a young lady in the Berekum Market in January. I struck up a conversation with her because I was behind her, as she appeared to be marching athletically down the market aisle. Was this walk of her’s a calculated maneuver on her part to attract some masculine attention, or was it an innocent necessity designed to get her from one area of the market to another location? If the reason for her conduct was the former, I had witnessed this kind of behaviour before. The year was 2019. In another section of The Berekum Market, I saw a tall, very dark-complexioned, beautiful young woman strolling down another market aisle near the section where meats, cosmetics, detergents, and towels are usually sold. I knew instinctively what this stroll was all about. She worked at one of the stalls controlled by a close relative. However, maybe in her mind, she wasn’t amassing sufficient masculine attention. Accordingly, she decided it would be appropriate and in her best interest to saunter aimlessly around the market’s perimeter and show herself. Was she doing this because she was essentially a slay queen? (a call girl), trying to pick up some male clients who could afford her services. Whether or not this contrived routine was beneficial to her is uncertain, as she remains single and has gained a significant amount of weight. Such marketing ploys are commonplace in Ghana, both in urban and suburban areas. Because jobs are limited in supply, and money is scarce.
All I needed to say to the lady behind whom I walked was, “I think you are beautiful, and I love the way you look. May I have your number, please?” She quickly obliged me. This outcome might have been her objective, or it could have been entirely coincidental. What a contrast that encounter was to another one I had run into while walking around the full area of a Walmart store in Brown Deer, Wisconsin? I had to walk inside because the brutal American winter was at its peak at that time of year, between December and April. While making my rounds, I passed several marketing stalls, which were mainly controlled by young women. Unknown to me, one of them had become paranoid by the fact that I passed her area frequently. I think I had to encircle the whole circumference of the store sixteen times to achieve my goal of four miles per night. A black male supervisor of average height approached me and said, “Sir, you are making a member of our female staff extremely nervous.” My response was, “I am very grateful for this information, thank you very much indeed, God bless you.” “How did this happen?” he continued. “It was completely accidental,” I asserted. “But for the future, I will avoid her like the plague.” Subsequently, I stopped walking in that store and only went there during the day to make purchases that I couldn’t obtain elsewhere at a lower price. I could have taken a few moments to explain the reasons for my actions, but after careful consideration, I decided not to waste my time. I resumed my walking activities in another gigantic store, and I continued my pedestrian activities there until the brutal American winter came to an end. During the fall of 2019, I left for Ghana.
At the time of my first encounter with my new friend, Ms. Comfort, I was also making frequent trips to the dentist. Initially, I was seeing a medical professional at a nearby hospital. Unfortunately, he was having problems continuing his needed intervention. Because I didn’t seem to be responding appropriately to the many pain-killing injections he had administered to me via the afflicted area of my mouth, and this happened twice. Ultimately, I sought help elsewhere. My new dentist eventually decided to extract the troublesome molar in my lower left jaw. The whole experience was traumatic, but I survived, thanks be to God. On the day of my last dental visit, I called Ms. Comfort to find out if she had received the AirTime that I had sent her. She answered in the affirmative and thanked me profusely. She then went on to say that she had come down with Malaria. I advised her to go to a nearby hospital for testing. I promised to send her some money to cover the medical expenses of her diagnosis and treatment. Immediately thereafter, I sent her three hundred cedis and requested a receipt. I asked for documentary evidence to verify her medical expenses, as Ghana is notorious for scams.
I received a call two weeks later from Ms. Comfort advising me that she had recovered entirely from her Malaria diagnosis. She declared at the time that I was her hero and sent me a receipt authenticating the full cost of her treatment, which happened to be the exact amount I had sent her. Not long after, we arranged for her to visit my home. I gave her explicit instructions and counselled her to disembark from the Okada (taxi) at Joeman’s Bore Hole (Well), which was situated on Sofokyere Avenue. She claimed to fully understand my instructions and advised me that as soon as she got to the pre-arranged location, she would alert me. I received a call from her two hours later, informing me that she had arrived. I prepared myself and went to the area, but she was nowhere in sight. I assumed that she had gone all the way to the end of the taxi’s route. I called her on the phone and asked her exactly where she was. But couldn’t understand what she was saying, although I heard her words distinctly. Anyway, I advised her to retrace her steps and waited patiently for her arrival. Thirty minutes later, she appeared. I didn’t bother to try to find out exactly where the two of us had gone wrong because I was thrilled to see her, tall, slender, and beautiful. She was dressed in a bland blouse and a loose-fitting pair of jeans.
I escorted her to my residence and showed her around my two bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, large dining room, large hall, large kitchen, front and back porches, and spacious garage. She seemed to be impressed and complimented me on having a comfortable living arrangement. Thereafter, we chatted. She talked about her family history, mentioned that she had three sisters, one brother, and that one of her sisters was suffering from speech and hearing disabilities. She also noted that, even though they all lived with her mother, who was the store owner. At which she worked six days a week without compensation, her father was deceased. She had lost him when she was only five years old. She remained with me for two hours, and since the sun was already setting, I had cautioned her against waiting at the taxi stand in Sofokyere after dark.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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