What is the world coming to…I ask you!

This afternoon I was walking naked down the street, minding my own business, when an annoying incident occurred. I was on my way to watch the concluding part of a chess game that had been going on every Saturday afternoon for the past three weeks – my calculations showed that one of the players would certainly put his opponent in check today. I had been part of the tournament earlier on but had been beaten to third place.

My mind was entirely on the game as I strolled leisurely through the streets of the neighbourhood where I lived. To me the conclusion was foregone: there was only one way to win the game. Last week the losing player had put up a surprising display, almost turning the tide. He had in fact put himself in a much stronger position, but I doubted if he could win the game or force a stalemate.

As I walked on, however, I sensed some agitation amongst the people around me. Of course I’d realised that being naked, I would attract a little attention; indeed I’d have been slightly flattered if someone had come up to me with civilised comment: ‘I am quite pleased with your appearance today: your penis especially is big, straight, and looks well nourished.’

To which I would have answered with a smile, ‘Ah, what. I only just noticed it myself this morning when I was undressing, and I quite agree with you.’

There was no reason to turn down a well-intentioned compliment, especially as I had taken considerable pains at my toilet today. I was well shaven, anointed with ointment, powdered, and perfumed – all to avoid disgrace, of course.

Then again I wouldn’t have minded answering a polite question as to my state of undress. With equal politeness I would give a few reasons, only for the sake of civil discourse, for it really was nobody’s business. However, I would add an important point with a smile: ‘It certainly allows flatulence to disperse with ease.’ Or I would be expansive, and further state: ‘Unencumbered by layers of textile, different in texture, thickness, and absorbency.’

I had also considered the possibility that someone would come to me and say, ‘You are naked and must be ashamed of yourself.’ I would respond thus, ‘Why must I be ashamed? Have you not read the Holy Scripture, where in the book of Genesis chapter two verse twenty-five it says, “And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.” Besides, prior to the creation of the woman, doubtless Adam was naked and neither was he ashamed.’

I was prepared for civility, but not the brutish, unenlightened reaction I encountered when suddenly I heard some shouts behind me, and I turned around. A policeman was running at the head of a group of three well-built men, and was calling out to me, ‘Hey, you there! Stop!’

Surprised, I concurred. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene. Moreover I am a law-abiding citizen, and I was sure it was for some trivial matter that the policeman had hailed me.

The foursome soon drew up to me, a bit short of breath. I cast a questioning look at them, waiting.
‘You are naked!’ the policeman suddenly declared.
Now one thing I cannot stand is foolishness. ‘But of course,’ I said, wondering why they bothered to run all this distance to tell me something I obviously knew, something that I was architect of.
‘This is unacceptable,’ the policeman continued.
‘Unacceptable? Not to me, certainly,’ I said nonchalantly.
‘But the public, the public…’ the policeman said. I suppose it was as a result of the run that the policeman was speaking nonsense in short gasps.
‘What public? You do not mean to suggest that my state of undress might cause distress to members of the public? But how preposterous a thought that is! Every member of the public observes their nakedness at least once a day, and I daresay are mighty pleased with what they see.’
‘I am sorry, but I must put you under arrest,’ the policeman said, shaking his head.
I was quite irritated. ‘My goodness! Listen; there is no reason for all this. I am a peaceable citizen, on my way to watch the final of a chess tournament. The game is very engrossing, and I must find out if some of my hypotheses will be proven.’
‘You sound very educated,’ the policeman began. ‘It is rather unfortunate that you should act in such a manner. Do you not know that you will corrupt the little girls?’
‘I will not touch them, I assure you. I only do such things at night, and even then she must be above the age of majority, and has to give her consent.’
But the policeman had made up his mind. ‘I am arresting you for indecent exposure,’ he said. He paused.‘You may require psychiatric evaluation, but you do seem … rather sane.’
‘Of course I’m sane,’ I retorted angrily, but before I could say more the three others pounced on me and forced me into a knee-length over-all. I was further infuriated, because one of them touched my penis during this exercise. I was then frog-marched, no less, in the direction from which they had come.

‘You will get the chance to telephone your folks from the station,’ the policeman said kindly.
‘I demand to be released to go and watch the game,’ I shouted. ‘For three weeks I have intently followed the game, and today, today when the champion will be decided, you arrest me?’
‘Have you always attended the games naked?’ the policeman asked.
‘Today is a special day,’ I replied, ‘Do you not understand that?’

After a short distance the three gentlemen took leave of us, and thereafter the policeman put me in handcuffs. It appeared that the other three were members of the public who had assisted the policeman in performing his duty.

I was very angry by the time we got to the police station, but I had decided not to speak to the policeman. This decision could not be maintained, however, because the policeman made me sit in a rickety old chair behind the counter, and proceeded to question me, writing my answers on a police report form.

So now here I sit, in detention. I’ve made my telephone call, written down my “statement”: it all is a very small matter, but I still have to be bailed. An unnecessary interruption of my well-planned day, and the most unfortunate thing is that I’ve missed the start of the game by now. How terrible! And all because of this nonsense…! To think that I took such pains to make myself look presentable! My body fairly glows with the excellent care I had taken – even going as far as rubbing down with alcohol after bathing.

What a world…eh!

-Martin Egblewogbe

The traffic jam into the city this morning was phenomenal. Normally there was a go-slow: tiresome, but at least one moved. Today, however, something extremely abnormal seemed to have happened. The cars were locked solid, for over a quarter of an hour I had just moved about ten metres. It was as if all the cars in the world were suddenly converging onto the city centre.
I kept twirling the radio dial, trying to get some news on what could be causing the traffic jam. But there was no news whatsoever.
As my car crawled by the entrance to the University of Ghana, I decided to escape the traffic jam by going into the University and aborting my trip into town. I had calculated that at the rate at which the cars were moving, I would get into town late in the afternoon, and therefore there was no use whatsoever pursuing that course of action.
The object of the excursion into the University campus was to call upon my old friend and former lecturer, Professor Divsum of the Department of Mathematics.
The campus was bustling with activity as students scurried about their business, going to and from lectures, the library, and so on. Feelings of nostalgia crept over me as I drove to the Department of Mathematics. The dull grey building still stood, as sombre as ever.
The Professor, old and balding, was in his office. He looked up suspiciously at me as I entered his office.
‘And what do you want?’ he said. ‘You are too old to do mathematics.’
‘I just dropped in to see how you are faring.’ I laughed, we shook hands.
‘I am nothing,’ Professor Divsum replied, adding: ‘the subject is everything.’
‘Amen,’ I concluded.
The professor chuckled.
‘The traffic into town is something horrible today,’ I said. ‘It’s absolutely stuck.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘Years ago I foresaw it happening, I saw it all. It is a problem, which, if not tackled promptly, will lead to the immobilisation of the masses. It is something which I have always worried about, and even now I am working on the solution.’
He pushed a sheaf of paper towards me, the topmost bearing a pencil sketch and some calculations. I glanced at it, not understanding.

‘A new mode of transportation,’ he explained, ‘the only solution to the problems with urban mobility. It is my very own invention.’
Professor Divsum then went on to explain his idea. Basically it consisted of interconnecting the city’s transport hubs with pneumatic tubes, which could be built on the ground, passed underground, or even suspended in the air. Inside these tubes there would be little capsules capable of holding two or three people. The capsules would be propelled at high speed through the tubes by air pressure.
‘The energy required to run such a system will be a tiny fraction of what is expended now on the present inefficient means of transport. There will be no more traffic jams, no accidents, no exhaust pollution. It is perfect! But of course, why will it not be perfect?’
I said a few cautious words in doubt about the practicability of such an idea.
Professor Divsum snorted with ridicule. ‘And of course you would know all about it,’ he said sarcastically. ‘We all remember very well the project work which you left with us. Very insightful, it was.’
I winced. He was talking, of course, about my final year project work in Mathematics, which had caused a quite a little uproar. The project work was entitled, ‘An Eclectic Comparison of two modes of Bipedal Locomotion: walking forwards versus walking sideways.’
I was embarrassed at the memory.
Professor Divsum went on, ‘In the course of time, this system will be adapted to inter-city and even trans-continental travel. However in that case the capsules will be much larger, perhaps capable of carrying five hundred or a thousand persons. This is the future of transportation.’
Professor Divsum showed me more drawings and calculations. Presently, however, he seemed to get bored with my passive scepticism. He gathered up the sheets, mumbling something about great ideas not being recognised by little minds.
‘This office is hallowed ground,’ he said, wagging a finger in the air. ‘The future of the world has been decided here. But now I must go home, for sandwiches await.’
We went outside. Prof Divsum seemed to have become much more cheerful and walked with a sprightly air.
‘I want you to observe by what means I go home,’ he said. ‘This should set your mind at rest about my ideas, for they are excellent both in genesis and in implementation. I first tried this out yesterday, and the results were just as expected: excellent!’
He led me to the back of the building, where there was a little open ground taken up by unkempt lawn and shrubbery. Close to a row of shrubs there was a large grey plastic sheet covering what I took to be some sort of sculpture.
‘The students were amazed by my prowess when they saw me leave for home yesterday,’ he said, and uncovered the plastic sheet. ‘They simply marvelled.’
Exposed before us was a strange contraption. It consisted of a plastic bucket seat suspended about three feet from the ground. The sides of the seat were fastened to two thick lengths of elastic cord which were tied to two stout wooden beams planted in the ground.  The back of the seat was connected to the shaft of an electric motor by means of a steel cable.
‘It is clear how this thing works,’ Professor Divsum said with pride.
It certainly was all too clear. It was a catapult.
‘But this thing must be dangerous!’ I exclaimed.
‘Nonsense,’ said the professor, lowering himself into the seat. ‘Every possible contingency has been taken care of. My computations were exhaustive.’ He nodded rather vigorously.
Professor Divsum touched some buttons on a small device at the side of the  seat.  ‘This is the controller,’ he said. ‘It is a powerful little computer.’
Suddenly the electric motor started up with a whine. First the position of the seat was adjusted: it tilted slightly sideways. Then the seat began moving backward. The elastic began to stretch and become taut. I was very concerned, but Prof Divsum was entirely at ease. When the elastic was very taut the Professor smiled at me and said,
‘See you another time, my friend.’
Just then I observed that one of the thick shrubs behind the catapult was stirring oddly. It seemed that there was someone hiding behind it.
Professor Divsum pressed another button, and there was a fearful twang. He was flung far upwards, rapidly becoming a smaller and smaller speck in the clear blue sky. At the same time I saw two students dart from behind the shrub and run away.
My gaze was torn between the Professor, who was fast disappearing into the skies, and the students, who were fast disappearing around the building. The significance of this did not strike me until much later.
I left the scene of these amazing events and drove off in my humble automobile. The traffic jam had cleared considerably, and I was able to get into town before midday.
Later in the evening I heard on the radio news bulletin that Professor Divsum had been cast far out to sea by his catapult. Apparently something had gone wrong with the apparatus. That was when I remembered the students running away. I wondered what they had had to do with it. It did appear, however, that the Professor was not much hurt, being a man of extraordinary resources: on landing on the water, he had quickly recovered from the mishap and walked back to Accra.
-Martin Egblewogbe, 2001