I had a good time at church today and as such I was not going to come here with any bit of anger left in me but the devil always has a way to distort the inner peace and happiness that God gives to His children.
It was a fundraising Sunday and I love such days—not because of the money but because I am able to dance for long. I go to a small church but on such days, they bring in all the needed musical instruments to make the church fun.
I always given 5 GHS and I won’t just increase it because it is fundraising when my salary remains the same. Hell No! I don’t miss such Sundays because of the good music and the opportunity to dance off some of the small devils in my life.
But it all changed when I logged on here to read an earlier article which plainly suggests that Ghanaians back home (Africans and Jamaicans back home) are some sort of paupers—who are alive because those abroad send us some money and toy gadgets.
What sort of deep nonsense is this? How many times in a month do you donkey working people send us money back home? All those days or months we do not hear from you, do you hear that we’ve died out of starvation? Tweaaaaa!
We may not be rich in cash but we are rich in time and happiness and did any one put a gun to your heads to travel abroad? The small pounds, dollars and electronic gadgets made by some Chinese children that you guys pass back to us should not give you the impudence to insult us.
When you guys ask us back home to send you Milo, Titus Sardines, Neat Fufu, African Prints, dried fish and all manner of ingredients including ‘Dawadawa’ and Okro, do we complain? You sit in Europe or America and you want our delicious made in Ghana Shito and yet you do not want to send us some of your pounds or Euros in exchange…
When did hand go, hand come became a reason to complain? When my Auntie in Canada comes home with her 7 children, always lined up like a football team—I do everything for them. I push their bags from the airport; I bath the children each day, wash their clothes and even become a tour guide who takes them on sight seeing. And she expect me to do all these for free?
So handing to me some cheap Nokia phone that you probably bought from a ‘1 dollar shop’ as a form of compensation has now become a headache—to the extent that you people have started complaining… You know what, when you die, let them bury you there.
When you see my African Print dress and you love it, you are able to boldly say it but when I love your new laptop, I should not be allowed to say it…Nonsense!
Let me move on to my main reason for writing today and leave these over worked brains living in cold countries alone. Perhaps, all their brains are frozen like those Kpala fishes we buy from the area cold store.