Perhaps I was born with little or no luck and I definitely have to blame my hopeless mother for not letting the local priest baptize me when I was born, instead, I had the now not so common home christening. My father couldn’t afford the white garment needed for the church service for them so they opted to do their little thing at home. I don’t even understand why she was messing with such a broke man.
I wouldn’t be working like a donkey and still be broke if she was more smart with her choice of men. I can hardly afford enough credit on my mobile phone to call this same mother after having called my boyfriend who can’t afford to buy the credit for me but expects to be called regularly.
In fact, his expectation does not even upset me as much as when he does the usual Ghanaian thing-flashes me, expecting that I will call back in the next second.
Things are hard in Accra and even with a University degree, things are not getting any better and my salary has not increased in the last 3 years. Yet, the gutter side Wakyee seller who I used to buy from each morning has increased her prices more than 10 times.
Nowadays, instead of buying the morning Wakyee each day as I used to—I only can afford it on Fridays and recently, she had the stupid nerve to ask me why she doesn’t see me more often. Maybe if she cuts down on the rate at which she increases her price, she will begin to see more of me.
Of course I couldn’t tell her that so I told her, I only eat Wakyee’s on Fridays to go with the gradually spreading ‘local Friday’. Instead of wearing just a Ghanaian print on Fridays, some of us have stolen it as an excuse to cover our inability to afford everyday Wakyee.
Girls are sweating even when it is raining in this part of the world. It is difficult to even be a lady as you have to fight the men for everything, the usual morning struggle for seat in ‘trotro’ at Kaneshie has become so normal to me and until my friend visited from London recently, I couldn’t remember the last time I was in a taxi.
Talking about ‘trotro’, I think the new set of ‘trotro’ men should stop asking for a woman’s number if they are not ready to even pay her fare. I wouldn’t mind trading my phone number each day for a free ‘trotro’ ride to work. But these guys wait for you to pay the damn fare and then they proceed to ask you for your number. The last time, I told one of them I do not have a phone so he should give me his phone and then he can call me on it later—you can’t imagine how quick his face changed.
That was just by the way, so let me dig into why I am writing this—and as you can see, I am damn frustrated about my current situation. If you are a woman in my shoes, you better be happy I am on a search for an answer for all of us because ‘Girls Abr3’.
Even though I am not a TV star, I believe I am far beautiful than most of the women I see on my TV. Maybe the picture quality of my TV is a little messed up as it is nearly 10 years old but my mirror tells me I will beat most of these girls in any beauty pageant—even if judged by blind corrupt men.
F*ck it, who cares about who is beautiful nowadays—it is all about who has that ‘MUGU’ in her purse. And by ‘MUGU’, I mean the somewhat derogatory Nigerian ‘word’ which has come to mean; a stupid man with a lot of money that can easily be talked into giving a lot away.
I hope the above explaining of ‘MUGU’ sits well with your understanding—and if it does not, get your head checked. I don’t really give a hoot about your sense of understanding at this stage. Who doesn’t know what ‘MUGU’ means in today’s Africa when they’ve become the most wanted commodity on the market?
Considering the fact that I work hard like a donkey who lost her mother at the age of 2 months and had to carry sand bags from Tamale to Walewale until it died at the age of 7, and yet my standard of living revolves around fighting ‘trotro’ mates every morning as they try to cheat me and I try to cheat them—I think the last ‘MUGU’ must be allocated to me as a form of compensation.
And if the girls will not agree on letting me have the last one, I will have to kick some balls the Cynthia Rothrock style and take the most precious man of our time by the use of violence. Even if I have to kill that daughter of a b*tch standing in my way, I will do it.
Look, I have always talked and adhered to all manner of morals and they’ve not helped me in anyway while the ugly girl on TV who lost her morals to smartness is driving around in an air-conditioned Hummer or BMW, fuelled and bought by her dearest MUGU. Who the heck deserves to sit in a no glass window ‘trotro’ each morning? I’ve checked in the mirror and that person is definitely not me.
I really don’t care what you think, I just want to get out of this messed up life—and don’t tell me about praying to God for help because I’ve done that several times. All I need is that MUGU who will provide all I want and occasionally take charge of my body.
I wouldn’t mind this at all, that sounds like a fair deal—far better than my current disproportionate deal with my boyfriend who pays nothing and regularly smashes my body against the bed on a good and the wall on a bad day. Then I have to use my own left over coins to buy pain killers. The last time, I had to even buy the condoms myself…
What the heck…I definitely need to find myself some MUGU too.
I will be a fool not to be jealous that Sandra Ankobiah who works at TV3 few hours each morning and being paid not that much travels almost every weekend to some exotic destination—and that is if she does not want to be shopping in Dubai.
I don’t really care who is paying for her trips or how she is getting there. All I know is, home girl also wants to have such a good time and the most perfect candidate to make it happen is that MUGU I so much need. The person can even have 3 wives and I wouldn’t care—and he can be as old as Metusala,and I will still gladly s*ck his stick.
And you think I wouldn’t shoot Christabel Ekeh down and take her Hummer from her if we were in the State of Nature era? Christabel is smart to be keeping the name of that boyfriend out of the media because you cannot count the number of time I’ve googled “what is the name of Christabel Ekeh’s boyfriend”.
Whoever paid for that car deserves to be given another beautiful girl for free—because he is a real man and we need more of such men. He can even have me for free. At least, he will give me a Hummer or something less like a Range Rover—far better than my class mate who was made the 3rd wife of a toothless old chief in Northern Ghana, right after school.
Can girls be a little more generous and tip me off on where I can also find myself a goddam MUGU—capable of solving my increasing financial crisis?. I may not be a virgin but I certainly have the other place untouched—and for a good price or an expensive weekend away to Paris, I will surely not think twice about bending over.
F*ck you if you are going to judge me. Try living my life for a minute and you will understand my endless frustration made worse by the scorching Ghana sun.
The ‘atormo’ seller didn’t even turn up today—and now, I will need to find something else within the budget range as a replacement.