Happily Ever After

He sat behind the table, and right across from her and dammit, he couldn't help himself  from getting lost in those eyes. They seemed to drink him in, and this time he'd let himself be drawn right in. It didn't matter that all this time, he'd lied that she wasn't the one for him. Now, it was a secret that had become too heavy for his insides. If she picked up the signals today, then so be it. There'd be no lying to her anymore. He'd do the right thing and 'fess up. Tell her how madly and deeply he'd fallen for her. How much it killed him to think of her in another man's arms, crying on another man's shoulders, having someone who wasn't him in her 2 a.m thoughts, promising her forever to another.

Screw his feelings of insecurity. There wasn't a damn thing he could do about not being good enough for her. God knew she drove him nuts trying to be his best for her. He planned to keep right on trying even if it drove him crazy. Screw the fact that the ring he had for her in his pocket could not live up to the expensive jewellery she'd grown up owning. He had emptied his susu account for this, and only fate knew how he was going to save all that money again. Screw that. He needed to right things first with his heart. Maybe later, his world would follow suit.

She stared right back at him, eyes unwavering. Full of questions. Full of emotion. Swelling with the one thing he could identify with, had been identifying with for a while: Love so raw and full. The moment was theirs. Never mind that his master was waiting for them to load passengers. Or that, flies were having a good time on his untouched plate of waakye.

He had her. She had him. They had each other and they had love. Hopefully, they'd have it happily ever after.

At The Koko Seller's Bench. Communication Barrier Or Nah?

At the Koko Seller's bench one morning, this is the scene I beheld or the conversation I overheard, depends on whichever way you choose to see it.

OYIBO: Hello goodmorning, how are you doing? *smiles*

HAJIA: Yes fine moring. Allah dey. *very business-like*

[This is ALL THE ENGLISH Hajia can manage anyway.]

OYIBO: Could I have some of that koko please? *smiles*

HAJIA: Ahe?

OYIBO: Did you ask how much? *smiles*

HAJIA: Yes.

OYIBO: One cedi please. Two of that. *smiles*

[Hajia, after packaging Oyibo's food, sees there's more to the request, and starts getting pissed but can really do nothing about it. Because he's obroni. Everyone knows these unspoken rules]

OYIBO: You have any puff loaf? *still smiling*

HAJIA: Eh?

OYIBO: Puff Loaf?

HAJIA: Eno nso ye den?

[Oyibo's girlfriend senses he needs help and hops out of the car to help him out. She's not white. She's black. But speaks NO Twi. Just French. And broken English.}

GIRLFRIEND: Puff loaf?

HAJIA: Asem ben ni? Puff loaf no nsoso ne den?

ONLOOKER: Bofrot na oop3 aka.

[Oyibo remains smiling. Hajia's frustration is reaching its peak.]

HAJIA: Ebi nni ho. Kose nkoaa.

[Girlfriend tells Oyibo its bean cake.]

OYIBO: I thought that was fed to poultry? Bean cake.

GIRLFRIEND: This is fried bean cake.

OYIBO: I'd like to try it though. Give me four of those please. *smile still in place*

Before he leaves, Oyibo remarks, "Thanks for your patience, it's rare."

That was the most ridiculous thing I heard throughout the conversation. A part of me was tempted to attribute it to sarcasm, but the authenticity of his compliment was unquestionable

Is there something like a body language barrier? As in can people not read others'  body language? And is it a sort of side effect of Language barrier? As in, if you can't understand someone's language, does that mean you can't understand his or her body language too? If so, should we call it Language Barrier or would Communications Barrier be a broader and more fitting term?

RE: 'FUCK AFRICA AND AFRICANS, ESPECIALLY GHANAIANS'

Hats off to Mutombo for officially or maybe unofficially re-introducing the power of the pen i our youthful circles. Hopefully, we can ink your thoughts. I write in that hope.

It's true that some wounds never heal, and so for some time now it's been quite okay to blame some of our national problems and international problems as a continent, on the effects of the sins of our colonial masters. If we would be true to ourselves, in our hearts, they are ultimately, The Enemy. And of course, according to Ghanaian & African mindset, the enemy is the at the roots of every bad thing. EVERY negativity is because of what 'the white man stole from us'. Even our leaders are no different; there's no hope of a revolutionary change of thought patterns birthed by the leadership of the country and the African continent.

Take me out of any prejudicial political affiliation, and allow me to take us back to the recent BBC interview with His Excellency John Dramani Mahama. When asked by the BBC reporter what exactly was the cause of our nose-diving economy, Mr. President gave the normal 'Ghana's economy is one that thrives on the success of it's exports on the international market. When the prices of cocoa and gold are faltering on the international market, our economy suffers..' excuse. I was paraphrasing by the way. Of course, as long as the excuse isn't questioned it is good enough to be used! As long as makes us look miserable enough to get help, we will lean on it! But how about we come out of our comfort zone and start to find our own answers to our own problems?! How about forget the whole sorry excuses that we've all learned to memorize in one sorry way or another?!

Every time something happens, Ghanaians would prefer finding some sorry yet comfortable excuse to assuage their fears; maybe run away from reality. STOP RUNNING. Face the music. Otherwise, really what's the use of school? If all we're doing is complaining or finding excuses, then is the purpose of education, which is to find solutions to problems met? Is education even useful then? Why build more schools when all they produce are some intellectuals so plagued and paralysed by cowardice?

Now Ebola is in the hood. A good part of the working population of Ghanaians are health-inclined. Of course, it was and still is almost every Ghanaian child's dream to 'wear labcoat'. And now there are so many phDs; more on the way; some are even jobless. It's not just about looking cool in the coats, and owning coded & complex handwriting. Let your certificates remind you of the cause you've pledged your working life to. Start accepting responsibility for the diseases that threaten to wipe out your fellow countrymen. Start thinking of every lost life you could have saved if you actually made moves. Start believing that AIDS, cancer, ebola are not an end in themselves. DO SOMETHING.

And pretty please stop looking at the West as some kind of enemy. As far as possible, they've done their part. We asked for independence; they gave it to us. Of course there were some inconsistencies where justice is concerned, but please for progression sake, let's put the past behind us. Let's relabel all the things we labelled 'impossible'. Let's see ourselves as competent. Let's rise above the mediocrity. Let's do something. 


Let's start living the independence. Others died for our freedom, what are we dying for?' Surely, shouldn't be Ebola.

Yesterday's Loss

The day is beautiful. I have wasted enough opportunities in my life, and I am not going to miss this one. I grab my journal and favourite black pen, and make my way out of the house. I try to be as careful as possible with the door; it creaks, and mother mustn't hear me sneak out. Or I will spend the entire day engaged in a melange of chores, and that would just ruin a potentially-perfect day. I don't want that.

I succeed. To celebrate my victory, I stick my nose in the air and indulge my nostrils in the wonderful every-day-summer-because-it's-the-tropics scents. The swing chair invites me over for a pat on the back. My joy is short-lived though, because I must get down to business. The not-so-pleasant business.

I suck in a deep long breath because who doesn't need strength to pursue difficulty? My mind sets the ball rolling, and I travel along with her down memory lane. The soles of my shoes are light, and so I can feel everything on the road. The pictures are in bright colours, and even though I try to avert my gaze, they scream out to me from the corners of my eyes. They demand to be seen, so I grant their wish.

First colour I see is red, and all my senses commit themselves to remembering that February 14. My tongue goes first, and all of a sudden I can taste them again. Those red bonbons. I was sure my taste buds would never forget them, but of course I didn't tell him that. Not even a thank you. He just stood staring expectantly at me, and watching me enjoy his generosity. And he got nothing. It was cute how he went the extra mile, bathing the artificial roses in Colour Me. I didn't tell him that either. My skin tingles as I remember his touch from when he held my hand hoping to keep me from going, as I turned to walk away. My ears replay his words 'Give me a chance. Please.' and my eyes recall the pain they registered in his as my hurtful words hit their mark.

The intensity of the pain clawing at my chest, effortlessly snaps me out of my reverie. The other colours are still screaming for my attention, but I can't heed them this time. Maybe on another beautiful day I will. But not today. Definitely not today. I need to attend to the pain. I still can't understand why I let pride get in the way. Or was it pride? I've never been certain. But whatever it is got in the way. Of US. Because he wasn't the only one who had caught feelings. Maybe if I'd been vocal about mine, then we could have had a future. I would have given him a chance. Given us a chance.

It's too late now though. Tomorrow he gets married, and I will be at the wedding. Trying to be excited with everyone else. Watching him pledge a lifetime of love to someone else. A love that could have been ours. If I'd given him a chance. If I'd given us a chance. I finally acknowledge that I'm smitten. I have been utterly smitten for a while.

FALLING

Mama looked grey. And Mama was a reflection of her.

Where she was from, families were their own mirrors. They mirrored everything but emotions. And only the members could distinguish their genders or ages. They were that close-knit, yet overly distinct.

Big Boss beat the drums, and it was time to fall. Uncle Sparks had to flash the light, and then falling would really begin. Celine didn't mind falling from time to time. But it was falling season, and falling would be regular for about two months straight. She would be better off getting used to it. There was no circumventing any of it.

Below, the humans scrambled about, trying to get prepared for her and her folks. Darn, she dreaded it as much as they. Of course they couldn't tell. They were human, she was cloud. All around, her people began to get ready; trimming their hair and etc to get lighter. Anything to delay the fall. Useless. Especially the unfortunate ones with their homes on lower spheres. They always fell first. Almost always.

There were many reasons why Celine hated falling.

1. It messed up her make-up. Yeah, stylists advised to look blah in falling season. But if she wanted a suitor, she knew better than to follow this advice. It added color to her whiteness; you know, a way to get rid of some of the blandness. But when the falling began, the make-up slipped right away with the falling. And in such moments, frustrating was an understatement

2. And as if that wasn't enough, the humans began running and screaming when her folks DID fall. Like, 'Shut the hell up! We don't like this as much as you!' These humans. They made her seem like a terror, when she was in fact, just going along with her natural tendencies. Then there were those that would laugh outright. Like falling was anything fascinating. The humans with cutlasses and hoes especially, would stand back and look so satisfied. It was impossible not to wonder what the excitement was about. The brethren that fell in the soil had it worse. The ants and worms and the other gruesome inhabitants swallowed them alive. Others that slid down windows had a preliminary vision of the plight ahead; the humans sleep a lot in falling season.

3. Plus, falling had a knack of ruining her relationships. Every fall would end in death. Some folks were scorched to death, some drowned, and others were devoured. Many preferred drowning, because even in death, the sea was vast enough to guarantee companionship. And even though there was reincarnation, it wasn't much compensation. She, for one, found little solace in it. There was no telling whether she'd meet her present lover in her next life. After dying 5 times already, she had never met any of her previous ones. Made courting seem useless.

Just then, Uncle Sparks gave the signal, and it was time to go against her will; it was time to fall. And before she fell, Celine hoped that just this once, she would meet Sheldon in her next life.

He was quite a hunk.

Oko.

I am terrified of mice. And so when i took my biscuit out of my box to find it half-chewed, i wasn't exactly at peace. I wrote this piece while hoping to get rid of it and save my food. And maybe assuage my fear of them. So um yeah. Enjoy.



Oko scurried from one end of the box to the other. 

In his mind's eye, he could see the clock ticking. And it was ticking fast. He must hurry. This was a new spot, and he wasn't too sure of the humans he had seen on his way in. Well, one looked like she had an uncanny fondness for sleeping fits. Maybe they weren't like the others in the school. Maybe they had half-nights. Who knew?

He slowed down enough to sniff all the colourful contents of the box. He hoped they tasted as good as they looked and smelled. He took a quick survey of the contents. There were sweet-smelling cans, paper boxes, and - wait, what was that? It wasn't long till he recognized the all-too-familiar delicacy. CHEESE! 'Ahh Heaven!' he thought, as he took in a deep whiff. He had found it - the perfect home for Shoki and the kids. At least for the next month. They were always on the move. That was just life.

But first, he needed to be sure of their security. That meant 24 hours of investigation. Though he hadn't had any preliminary sleep, he would pull through. And anyway, there was cheese to cheer him up. Pulling off the wrapper, he sank his incisors into its deliciousness. Then moving to the corner of the box, he found a nook right in the middle of a can of beans, and two boxes of cereal (more protein and carbs, for when he decided to make his home desolate) and settled there. The perfect spot. He could observe and still be comfortable. Well, until the humans got rowdy. They became like that sometimes, and threw things about. Such careless creatures.

Looking to the brighter side, the spot held wonderful future prospects. It was spacious enough to contain Shoki too. On lazy days, they could get all tangled up in their tails, and rub each other's fur. Maybe more children. If the home promised to hold them longer than usual. His tail stiffened with the pleasure of the thought. 

In a few beats, the lights in the room went on, and Oko caught a glimpse of a groggy-eyed human. Sighing deeply she bent down and to his dismay, pulled the lid of the box wide open. Oko began to feel overly self-conscious. What if it wasn't as good a hiding place as he  had thought? Was this how he would die?
'Oh shut up, and trust your mouse instincts.' said his sub-conscience in Ga. He didn't always understand Ga. But this time he did. Not that it made him any sober. For he'd heard it said, that in one's dying moments, all the blessings he wished for in life are made available to him. For about 60 seconds. He had always wished to be bilingual.

The human was the crazy kind. Oko was close to suffering a concussion, had he not dodged a floating tin of corned beef. Next, a tin of milk whizzed very close by his place of comfort, and Oko ran for safety. Just then, she let out a shrill scream, and Oko knew he was in for real now. Mouse instincts or nah.

It didn't take long for the other human to appear, and in seconds the stick she had with her rested violently on his mid-section. Before he lost the battle to death, Oko wondered why they hadn't at least told him to 'Rest In Peace'. It was the least they could do after shattering his dreams.