Of Irresolute Resolutions

When I wrote the last episode of my first serial, The Confession after a 10-week period, I decided to embark on a short break which took longer than originally expected. This break was to afford me the opportunity to regain the mental strength that was drained from writing that serial. Believe me or not, each episode was a laborious, quasi-tortuous moment for me as it was an unfamiliar literary territory for me – out of my comfort zone. And in a manner akin to how Bishop Dag Heward-Mills established a ‘new church’ and called it First Love Chapel in Legon (ostensibly to return to where it all begun), I also, reverted to my comfort zone, and shared with you Worthy Gambles. Unfortunately, the vicissitudes of life incapacitated my literary faculties and I went AWOL. But hopefully, I am back at post now and ready to share with you some nuggets I picked up whilst on my long sabbatical.

Worthy Gambles

When I wrote the last episode of my first serial, The Confession after a 10-week period, I decided to embark on a short break which took longer than originally expected. The break was to afford me the opportunity to regain the mental strength that was drained from writing that serial. Believe me or not, each episode was a laborious, quasi-tortuous moment for me as it was an unfamiliar literary territory for me – out of my comfort zone. And in a manner akin to how Bishop Dag Heward-Mills established a ‘new church’ and called it First Love Chapel in Legon (ostensibly to return to where it all begun), I also, in this piece revert to my comfort zone, albeit briefly to share with you some nuggets I picked up whilst on my sabbatical.

Short Story: The ‘Confession’…Final Episode

Siisi sat in the 3-seater sofa with chin in palm, eyes fixated on the TV set, yet, was not present in the room – he was at the car park of Lystell Hospital, talking to its administrator. He replayed the whole episode like he usually did on his DSTV Xplora decoder whenever he missed a show he’d planned on watching. He would shake his seemingly balding head after the episode has ended and start all over again albeit from different perspectives, and contemplate on whether or not to tell Tina. He was disturbed.

Short Story: The 'Confession'...Episode 9

“Are you sure, Mr. Grant?” the nurse asked. “How can you say he’s not your dad?”

The stare Siisi gave her could cut through butter and yet leave no trail. “Don’t I know the man who gave me life? Is that what you are suggesting?”

“Uhm…then there must be a mix-up somewhere. I’ll check and…..”

“Hello… are you Siisi Grant?” another nurse walked in and unintentionally interrupted. She was much older than the first, and was clad in white apparel over a complimenting white pair of sneakers.

“Yes, I am” he responded, still wearing the frown.

Short Story: The ‘Confession’…Episode 8

“Lister Hospital?... Siisi’s eyes widened and his heart started racing faster than Usain Bolt’s after his 9.8 seconds world record. Patricia’s eyes enlarged on impulse as Siisi repeated what the nurse had said.

Short Story: The ‘Confession’…Episode 7

“Should I go to the mall and hope she shows up? What if she doesn’t? I don’t think she’ll even do it” Siisi thought, as his faculties battled, trying to find a solution to his dilemma. He lay on his bed staring at the white Plaster of Paris ceiling from which the mini-chandelier hang. He thought repeatedly about his misfortune or folly – whichever best described that je ne sais quoi which seemed to show no glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. “And we had a wonderful time yesterday too oo…” he lamented, steupsed and shut his eye lids.

Short Story: The 'Confession'...Episode 6

Siisi stood there, blinked twice in quick succession, with events of their last meeting flashing through his mind. A smile broke on his face, and he extended his hand for a handshake. “Oh, right! I remember you now, Agyeiwaa. How’s you doing?” Agyeiwaa shook his hand and answered the question, also with a warm smile. “An awkward moment it was last week, wasn’t it? Why did you leave like that? she asked. With his signature laughter, he tried to avoid answering the question. Agyeiwaa smirked, adamant at taking silence…or rather laughter, as an answer to her question. Luck shone when Agyeiwaa’s phone rang, and her countenance changed when she checked her time. “Gotta run, Siisi. T’was nice seeing you again”. He nodded, relieved. “You take care of yourself”.

Short Story: The 'Confession'...Episode 5

No sooner had Siisi sat on the sofa than the phone rang again. “He wants to threaten me again?” he thought. He got up and started towards the TV stand with his eyes fixated on the new 55-inch LG OLED TV set which sat atop the stand. He was yet to get the installer to come mount it firmly on the wall. “Ouch! He screamed when he hit his knee against the glass centre table. He cussed as he sat on the sofa again wincing in pain. He examined the knee if a contusion had formed at the affected part. He rubbed it. The Whatsapp tone beeped not long after the call had ended. Limping and grimacing in pain with each step taken, he reached the phone and saw the missed call and message, both from Tina.

Short Story: The "Confession"...Episode 4

“Already?” Tina asked, wearing a bemused countenance. “My shift starts at 4pm today” Philipp answered, whilst dropping two freshly minted, crispy GHS 50.00 notes on the table. The confusion in Tina’s mind grew some more. “Today is Saturday, Dr. Philipp Ayensu, and you have the day off, remember?” Tina shot back. “Huh?” Philipp feigned inattentiveness whilst searching his perplexed mind for an appropriate answer. “The hospital called whilst I was in the washroom… Apparently, Dr. Agyiri is indisposed, so I have to be in the consulting room in his stead”. Both ladies exchanged looks, and then stared at him. Philipp immediately knew he’d messed up with that lie.

Short Story: "The Confession"...Episode 3

“Ah! Wey chick too this?” Siisi asked audibly after reading the message. “Ei!...Mr. Lover boy. You di33 I dey envy you paaaa oo” Donald quipped. He asked to see the picture of the lady Siisi complained about, but was fast enough to read the content of some of the messages sent. “My guy, gye wo two w’ati? Hair on chest and things. My guy, you do the distin finish, wey you dey ask say ‘wey chick that’? This guy paaa…”. Siisi looked on dumbfounded as Donald showered ‘praises’ on him. “But the chick fine oo…she no get best friend?” Donald added amidst laughter, which resulted in Siisi walking out on him.

Short Story: "The Confession"...Episode 2

"What just happened? Huh?..Tina?" Agyeiwaa asked as all three watched him walk out of the pub - Tina, wearing a perplexed look, and Philipp sighing. "Tina?" she repeated, in a quasi-demanding tone. "Was I not here with you", came the response as she resumed her seat. 

"Am I wearing a mask today? Maybe I scared him" Philipp said in a bid to diffuse the situation. "Ah, didn't you know you always wear a mask?" Agyeiwaa said, drawing laughter from all three. 

Short Story: "The Confession"...Episode 1

Tears streamed down his face even with his eyes still closed. Usual of him on Saturdays, the alarm sounded at 9:30 am and he wiped the flowing tears with his thick duvet. Was it as a result of a dream he had had? That was dismissed immediately as he was unsuccessful in his attempt to remember the content of his dream. He sat up and wondered why, but still couldn’t hazard a guess. He gave up.

He stood in the mirror, examining his swollen eyes, retrying to fathom what the cause might be.  “Did I fight in my dream, and lose?” he asked. He muttered a prayer against any spiritual attack against his life, and entered the washroom. Events from the past year, by some divine stroke, came rushing to him, mightily competing for attention in his mind, whilst he brushed his teeth. Siisi sobbed some more.

The Wonder of the Volta River

I had finished reading Louis L’Amour’s Last Of The Breed – a novel I took with me to Sogakope where I had gone for a much needed therapeutic massage for a back ache. I was lost in thoughts at the site of wonder around me at the Volta River which flowed a few meters away from the ‘lovers’ bench’ where I sat. The sun was setting, and with it came its illuminating orange colour reflecting on the lake, in a manner, akin to the ones seen in Hollywood movies. It was (and still is) indeed an amazing sight to behold. I was only brought back to reality by the seemingly unending laughter by one of two lovers who sat on a bench not too far from me.   

Of Overtaking: The Ford Wagon Experience

I love and loathe overtaking, concurrently. I love it when I am onboard a vehicle doing the overtaking, and I loathe when the opposite happens. There is some ‘personal vengeance’ when I am driving and a vehicle overtakes me; I try to retaliate when the situation is convenient and permits it, otherwise it leaves a somewhat unsatisfied feeling in me.

Will The Real Gentleman Please Step Forward?

I share an office with a warm lady whose ‘close proximity to the ground’ prevents her from reaching the files which sit on an Italian wood cabinet high over our heads. Incidentally, her role requires that the files be brought down frequently, in which cases my almost 6 feet height come in handy. I have also noticed, however, the convention that whoever brings her a document that requires filing ‘automatically’ fetches the needed file from the cabinet.      

'Broken Hair-ted'

I’m growing bald. My mum nearly wept when she noticed it for the first time. The countenance she wore that late afternoon when I visited her was one of a fallen crest. “Oh! Abranti3 f3f3w ‘na w’apempem ‘repa yi aa” she asked rhetorically in Fante, in a tone signifying shock. To wit, “a handsome young man like you is growing bald?” I expertly brushed that conversation aside with hard laughter, asking for something to eat instead - but that was a façade. Behind the laughter was a really sad young man who contemplated wearing a ‘sakora’ (completely bald) hairstyle as a result of the hair loss, but the shape of my head ruled that out. An Indian hemp-induced ‘afro’ hairstyle was also out of the question for a young man cutting his teeth in the corporate world. I cried within me on my way home that day.   

#SchoolDiaries

In the past week, social media (particularly Facebook) has been awash with some recollection of school events by past students of some secondary schools - hash-tagged #...Diaries. Strangely enough, old students of the very best secondary schools in the country (like Accra Academy) are not engaged in this, leaving the 'allo' schools to do it.… Well, in this post, I share one with you.

About 20 Years Ago

“I will report you to your mother” was one statement I dreaded growing up, as I am certain most people also were. Whenever an opinion leader in the community uttered those words, I would stop whatever misdeeds I was engaged in and immediately beg profusely.

My Favourite Pocket Square

Last Monday was a somewhat dust-laden harmattan hazed morning, and yours truly unintentionally overslept. My watch read 7:33 am when I reached the junction. A quick calculation led the mind to settle on a motor cycle (okada) as it provided a faster means of getting to work before 8:00 a.m. 

Does It Happen To You Too?

Does it also happen to you? That you ask a question and people cast weird looks at you, expecting that you should know the answer already? Have you ever been a ‘victim’? If you have ever engaged me in a conversation on any subject, you would know that it is a part of me – asking questions. I ask even the mundane ones and the expression on my face would be like that of a 3-year old lad demanding a candy. So yes, it happens to me all the time.

Of Perceptions

After a tiring year, and as part of activities marking its end of year celebrations, a choral music group I lead, decided to go de-stress and re-strategize at a poolside in the outskirts of Accra. We ate, drank, ‘socialized’, swam, danced and discussed various issues. We had lots of fun. Some members of the group consequently shared pictures on social media by flooding their walls with them and updating their display pictures. No problem with it, right? It could be repeated every quarter or half-yearly, ‘no be so’?