Ghana did not marry USA
Jun 30, 2010
WHY on earth do people wed during the World Cup? Last Saturday, I had to abandon a wedding because of the Ghana-USA match. And while on the way home, the clock, without notice, decided that it was 9.30pm. I just parked my vehicle by the roadside and stormed the nearest bar.
WHY on earth do people wed during the World Cup? Last Saturday, I had to abandon a wedding because of the Ghana-USA match. And while on the way home, the clock, without notice, decided that it was 9.30pm. I just parked my vehicle by the roadside and stormed the nearest bar.
The bar — a small room built for a shop, had no name — unless you insist that I did not see it. But I can safely call it Vuvuzela because of its noise. Vuvuzela was exploding with loud music, cigarette smoke, sweaty body odour, rectal gases, laughter and people who must have been ‘easterners’ because they are used to being comfortable in small districts. Big speakers in the bar’s four corners launched deafening (I am also comfortable with the word, blinding) music as if to ask us: Who called you here!
Everyone was shouting at someone despite the indications that nobody could hear anything. I edged my way to the counter, pointed to the beer brand I wanted and stayed there to concentrate on Ghana.
Then a tall drunken guy on the neighbouring bar stool turned and started describing something very urgent. I could not hear of course, but from his exaggerated gestures, it must have been a world class discovery. I shouted back that I could not hear him, at which he nodded vehemently, laughing loudly and giving me a high five. Then he continued his drunken narration. I wonder what he thought I had said. But we had a lovely conversation which went like this:
HIM: (shouting) xx xx xxx etc etc
ME: (shouting) It is too loud. I can’t hear you! Let’s just concentrate on the match.
HIM: (laughs and another high five) xx xx xx! (loud laughter)
ME: (shouting) You are spitting on my face! (Another big long laughter) How can you expect to out-shout this din? You must be a moron.
HIM: (Bursts into loud laughter forcing me to join him. Talks, gestures, spits saliva and nonsense).
ME: (Gesturing at the TV screen) Keep quiet! I came to watch the match. I am not interested in your nonsense!
HIM: (Applause! Words and more words! Gets off his seat to hug me. And at that closeness, I could hear him say: “Marrying them! Marrying them!†All over again. He clasped me and expected us to jump around in a circle).
I tore myself free! Had I walked into a den of homosexuals?
I looked around. There were plenty of girls. Actually one of them joined us at the counter around this time and gestured like she wanted to sip at my beer bottle. She ignored my expression of surprise and proceeded to put my bottle to her lips.
My moron jump-around neighbour started pinching my back and made eyes that eye interpreters would read as: Go on! You’ve got a good catch!
This cannot be described as a conducive environment in which to watch Ghana beating the US. I had to leave.
At the next bar, a man was raving mad about Africa having married (he actually used a vulgar word) America. I remember this because later at home, I listened to some Ghanaian fan being interviewed on Super Sport saying: “USA is our ex-wife. We married her at the last World Cup and again tonight, ….â€
Is this traditional view of marriage still around these shores? In the past, marriage was a victory for a man and his family over the woman’s family.
In Ankole, the give-away ceremony (kuhingira) was punctuated by tears of farewell while at the man’s place, it was celebration. The woman was the conquered, vanquished and routed while the man was the victor, winner and conqueror.
Today, marriage should be a celebration of achievement for all sides, unless a woman marries a campus boy; then she would be the conqueror, a reversal of roles. We need to keep up with the times even in our most drunken stupor. Marriage is what happens when two people decide to join their lives (past present and future). There should not be a loser; you are both winners. When one is considered a loser, even in the couples’ thoughts, that union is bound to fail or lose its fulfilling role.
Therefore, to set the record straight, Ghana did not marry USA. She defeated her and advanced to the quarter finals.
The bar — a small room built for a shop, had no name — unless you insist that I did not see it. But I can safely call it Vuvuzela because of its noise. Vuvuzela was exploding with loud music, cigarette smoke, sweaty body odour, rectal gases, laughter and people who must have been ‘easterners’ because they are used to being comfortable in small districts. Big speakers in the bar’s four corners launched deafening (I am also comfortable with the word, blinding) music as if to ask us: Who called you here!
Everyone was shouting at someone despite the indications that nobody could hear anything. I edged my way to the counter, pointed to the beer brand I wanted and stayed there to concentrate on Ghana.
Then a tall drunken guy on the neighbouring bar stool turned and started describing something very urgent. I could not hear of course, but from his exaggerated gestures, it must have been a world class discovery. I shouted back that I could not hear him, at which he nodded vehemently, laughing loudly and giving me a high five. Then he continued his drunken narration. I wonder what he thought I had said. But we had a lovely conversation which went like this:
HIM: (shouting) xx xx xxx etc etc
ME: (shouting) It is too loud. I can’t hear you! Let’s just concentrate on the match.
HIM: (laughs and another high five) xx xx xx! (loud laughter)
ME: (shouting) You are spitting on my face! (Another big long laughter) How can you expect to out-shout this din? You must be a moron.
HIM: (Bursts into loud laughter forcing me to join him. Talks, gestures, spits saliva and nonsense).
ME: (Gesturing at the TV screen) Keep quiet! I came to watch the match. I am not interested in your nonsense!
HIM: (Applause! Words and more words! Gets off his seat to hug me. And at that closeness, I could hear him say: “Marrying them! Marrying them!†All over again. He clasped me and expected us to jump around in a circle).
I tore myself free! Had I walked into a den of homosexuals?
I looked around. There were plenty of girls. Actually one of them joined us at the counter around this time and gestured like she wanted to sip at my beer bottle. She ignored my expression of surprise and proceeded to put my bottle to her lips.
My moron jump-around neighbour started pinching my back and made eyes that eye interpreters would read as: Go on! You’ve got a good catch!
This cannot be described as a conducive environment in which to watch Ghana beating the US. I had to leave.
At the next bar, a man was raving mad about Africa having married (he actually used a vulgar word) America. I remember this because later at home, I listened to some Ghanaian fan being interviewed on Super Sport saying: “USA is our ex-wife. We married her at the last World Cup and again tonight, ….â€
Is this traditional view of marriage still around these shores? In the past, marriage was a victory for a man and his family over the woman’s family.
In Ankole, the give-away ceremony (kuhingira) was punctuated by tears of farewell while at the man’s place, it was celebration. The woman was the conquered, vanquished and routed while the man was the victor, winner and conqueror.
Today, marriage should be a celebration of achievement for all sides, unless a woman marries a campus boy; then she would be the conqueror, a reversal of roles. We need to keep up with the times even in our most drunken stupor. Marriage is what happens when two people decide to join their lives (past present and future). There should not be a loser; you are both winners. When one is considered a loser, even in the couples’ thoughts, that union is bound to fail or lose its fulfilling role.
Therefore, to set the record straight, Ghana did not marry USA. She defeated her and advanced to the quarter finals.