From Where I come

I believe strongly that there is nobody born to play, in this world-stage, such roles as murderer or prostitute or armed robber or suicide bomber. Situations, people and more often than not the people themselves by their choices make them(selves) into these kinds of people society abhors.  To think that the perpetrators of these inhuman vices - boko haram, al shabab or angry unempoyed South Africans - were once little boys and girls, fills my heart with immerse  sadness. I have found myself asking such rhetorics as ,was there no exemplary adult they could have fashioned their lives after? If their parents were irresponsible or died somehow, was there no elder sibling, or extended family, especially as Ghana is largely an extended family system? What about a  next door neighbour that could offer them some guidance, counseling or discipline?  Take a look around. Your little brother or sister has the potential of becoming a murderer or a high class prostitute, and that little boy in yo

Dear Mr. President, Help! I'm on the verge of cheating on my wife. I only met this other lady two days ago and yet she has provoked me to consider breaking my vows to my wife of 27 years. Sir, this new lady is called Kigali. She has caused me so much unrest, since I first set eyes on her, with the feeling she stirs in my heart. I had promised to love my wife to the end but I don't know what to do with these new feelings. Kigali plays with my heart like the keys in Timi Dakolo's song, Medince .      I should know better -  Papa told me to never look at another man's wife more than twice -  but here I sit looking at Kigali's pictures for the 100th time in two days. And guess what? I want more! I think of the horror Kigali went through 24 years ago and I look at her beauty today and my heart smiles with so much hope. And then I think of my wife and I get so angry it makes me tremble. Mr. President, please tell my love, I was but a boy when I resolved to love

July 4, 2018.  Dear Mr. President, With regard to recent happenings; from the flood that broke our hearts by taking our Dr. Aya to the shocking loss of our Vice President, I have decided to stop talking or asking "what is wrong with us?" Now I'm asking "what can I/we do?"  I cannot wait for government. The government shouldn't be telling us not to drop the water sachets on the streets. Every time I walk/drive through Lapaz and its environs, I'm ashamed at the filth that sits comfortably on the streets and sidewalks and shocked at the lack of concern shown by the citizens who eke out a living on the streets of Lapaz.  One Monday, I saw a truck collecting a heap of rubbish from the pavements. And to my shock, just a day later, at the same place, I saw another heap of rubbish! There is absolutely no sense of responsibility. I have come to the sad conclusion that we have no LOVE and RESPECT for our own selves - that is what's wrong with us

24th March, 2015. Today  is one of those days when I am so broke, that all I have is faith and a little hope as I step out of the house for work. I say It's one of those days because I will seldom recollect how it tasted immediately the good times come. It only becomes a memory that is retold like an amusing movie. Today, on March 24, Gh2.00 is all I have as I step out. I am not bothered because fortunately, my work place isn't so far from home. The first bus I will board from my little town costs Gh 0.70 and the second bus will cost Gh 1.20. So I spend Gh 1.90 to get myself to work every day of the week. Now this morning as I got to the bus stop to board for my first bus, I was fortunate to get the last sit in the troski. You know the ones that are folded to make way to the back sit of the troski? Yes,  that's what I'm refering to. I didn't notice I was sitting by a friend I had recently made until the guy stretched his hands for a shake. so we shook hands and lau