Part 2. The journey back...

After a day of long back-breaking hours, the journey back home seems quite as arduous as that of the morning’s. I’m observing the sunset in the distance and wondering why we don’t yet have cars that fly. I’m beginning to wonder when technology will catch up with me – teleportation, time travel etc. Oh well.

My mind moves on from one memory to another, stringing together scattered thoughts that seem to go nowhere. I glance at the digital clock on my dashboard and it’s been 12 minutes since I last moved. Just then a guy walks past with pillows. Please hand me a few of those. Perfunctorily, I draw out my purse and pay him off. No bargain. Don’t have the energy for it. I ease back my seat, position the pillow at the base of it, and start humming to the tune from the radio as I turn it up. Just then these mobile CD/DVD/Cassette vendors blast away their music. One of those gospel singers. Can’t tell the difference. They all sound the same. These young guys come my way displaying the latest album recording of whichever artist it is. They shove it in my face and I look aside with disapproval. As though to spite me, all other pirated DVD sellers hustle me with their wear and my powers are no match. I end up rolling up my window to make sure all my doors are safely locked.

The logjam gradually inches forward and I respond. My feet hurt with all this half-clutch business.

Before I know it, I’m in the den of the onion boys. “Madam ginni, ginni.” (they say in their Hausa accent). They beat down the price themselves in an attempt to persuade me to buy it. I shoot them a stern glance and a defiant “Dεεbi” (no). Can’t they tell one who cooks from one who doesn’t?

Peddler after peddler, hawker after hawker, the traffic is still moving at government pace. No joke. I might as well use my time wisely. Need to make a few calls. “…you’ll have to recharge with a scratch card…” Darned that computer voice! Reluctantly, I call out for the 'credit card' peddler (Yes, ‘credit card’. That’s what we call it here. Deal with it), who seems to have every network’s scratch card pinned on himself. A decorated member of the Ghana Hawkers Association I suppose. I start to make my call. No MTN Zone. I'll make do.

I’m thinking that very soon traffic hawking will develop into a fully fledged industry and they'll be required to wear numbered uniforms just as the taxi drivers do. Just a thought. First it was just newspapers and iced water. Then we had Refresh (gosh, I miss that drink). The rest came in torrents. Now we have a whole assembly of household and office items. Amazing what you can get in traffic. Sometimes I feel sorry for the hawkers. I thank God that as bad as things might get, it won’t get that bad. Other times, they annoy me; no, I don’t want plantain chips; no, I don’t want cocoa drink with tea bread and no I don’t want a red bow tie nor do I want a laptop bag!
Home oh home come nigh unto me...

Much A-Say About Nothing

Let me start today’s issue by saying thanks to everyone who reads this column. I realize, or perhaps I don’t realize how many loyal readers I have out there. So if you’re part of the famos freddy fan club, thank you. But I’ll like to hear more about how good I am, so please drop me an email. “Ego under construction. Lend a hand.”
This Wednesday, I’m not going to talk about anything in particular, like I ever do. Believe it or not, you do run out of things to criticize about sometimes, like now for instance. Or perhaps there’s so much to write about that it just the thought of it is overwhelming in itself. So just incase you read this piece and ask yourself what the heck is this freddy talking about? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It’s been a while since I heard anything about Mentor. Anyone, someone could you fill us in a little? What’s the status?
Stars of the Future is back on again and year after year it never ceases to amaze me how some people can leave their homes, dress up looking all sharp, come to the audition centers with all purpose and intent and end up disgracing themselves.
There are so many disillusioned young folks out there who believe that they are stars. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being confident, loving yourself, being proud of yourself and all that good stuff, but seriously, no, I mean it, seriously, WAKE UP!!!
If you are out there and you have any family member praising you for your vocal prowess, be ye not too gullible. Get a recorder, put yourself on tape play it back and see if it sounds like what you hear on the radio…then again what you hear on radio might not be the best to compare yourself with, considering all the warts that manage to get studio time. But listen to notable records and see how well you place in comparison before you get broken hearted.
Based on this and a lot of research (i.e. television watching) I’ve decided on something and you guys are hearing it first from me. It’s not an entirely new idea, but in Ghana it is. If anyone does it, you’ll know where they got it from and I can sue them for using my idea.
Hear me out. Why don’t we start a pure talent hunt. I don’t mean singing or dancing alone. In fact, one of the prerequisites of the show would be must not sing. You can simulate singing if you want, but just don’t do it. From gymnasts, contortionists, mimes, drummers, bareback horse riders to anyone who can do outrageous things to entertain. I can already see “…proudly brought to you by MTN” written all over it. (Hint hint)
No seriously, not all talents are being unearthed. I’m sure there are people who need to reveal their talents and neither Mentor nor Stars of the Future holds the promise for which they desire. So allow me to be that pathway to your dreams. You can thank me later.
Yes I know, it’ll be a little difficult to find the winner, but who says we are looking for winners? We are merely giving them the chance to perform in front of an audience, knowing how used they’ve become to their bathroom mirrors.
Now the world has me and we can all live happily ever after. Thanks to famos freddy. I’m such a genius…sometimes.

Well you know what to do, love it or hate it? Send it straight to famosfreddy@yahoo.com