Tuesday, November 6, 2012

At The Western Sun

I'm not sure exactly why it happened to me last night, but I suppose its a tad to late to ask why's and what ifs now. Thing is, i got robbed last night.Well, not entirely.

My car got broken into whilst I was at a meeting with a potential client in pub within a popular but slightly dingy neighborhood in Osu, a suburb of Accra. Mind you nothing was stolen; but the fact that a total stranger had been prowling about in the boot of my car and touching my things made my skin crawl and gave me a sudden urge to pee - also fueled by the two sprites on ice with lemon wedges and the on-the -house shot of something quite sweet but lethally potent at the pub.

However having 'almost' been robbed, I resolved to save my emergency for a preferably well lit up place and with numerous people milling about in case my would-be robber was tailing me in an effort to snatch my handbag after seeing the rather unappealing contents of my car boot - a spare tyre, an old pair of sandals and a gallon of engine oil. So I mapped out the route to the Holiday Inn which fortunately was on my way home,  drove my foot literally into the ground and accelerated in an effort to tighten my PC muscles so that I could make it to the loo on time.

Well as you can imagine, I missed the turning to the Holiday Inn by a small miscalculation. I nearly cried from sheer desperation, but  the fear ruining the car seat put me in check. So instead I stepped on the gas some more, convinced that if I made it to the motorway I would be home free, tops ten minutes.

I didn't make it to the Tetteh Quarshie interchange either. Moments before I hit it, I felt that intense pressure in your bladder which tells you just to let go and let flow - literally! Just at that very moment, I spotted The Western Sun, a hotel just about a minutes drive before the interchange which led to the motorway and I chose to make a sharp turn to the right, careened into the parking lot and brought the car to a screeching halt! Grabbing my handbag, jumped out, locked the doors and with my kitten heels making clicking noises on the pavement, this lil piggy practically run crying 'wee wee wee' to the loo.

It was only moments later as I sat doing my business with eyes closed and a smirk of relief at the corner of my mouth did it dawn on me that the hotel was rather quiet. I started to recall a few things: the absence of the door man and the front desk attendants, and most of all the blinding silence...outside the steady stream of my you know what of course.
Flashbacks of movies like Nightmare on Elm Street and Stranger came to mind - ghastly murders of beautiful (yes i called myself beautiful) young girls slaughtered in a ghastly manner simply because they wandered away from the group.

So again for the third time that night, I panicked! My weak PC muscles suddenly gained Herculean strength and shut off the slow flow, I flushed the loo, grabbed my keys and run like there were beasts at my heels and until I found myself safely locked in the car, where I made an illegal right turn and headed straight home - all thoughts of needing the loo forgotten.

I found out later from my sister that the Western Sun has been closed down for about a month or two....Oops

Monday, July 23, 2012


I had a sort of epiphany about myself as a child:

It occurred to me that i worried too much about everything and anything. I worry about those around me, i worry about what people think about me, i worry about the future, i worry about me - I am simply a WORRIER.
It made me wonder how come i was such an individual and if it was perhaps something genetic or hereditary?
I am working on quelling my worrisome nature and learning to say 'Whatever' to some of the things i worry about because i have come to understand that worrying about something does not necessarily solve the problem or make it go away.

Dear Aku, Please stop worrying, it won't make you put weight on.


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Forty-First Thief

Exactly five days ago, my sister received a telephone call from a fellow called Anum, who worked at a car wash in our community where we often went to get our cars washed. His reason for calling was simple; he wanted to come and wash her car and wondered if she would like him to do so. Awo agreed, her car was a dusty mess which hadn't seen water in a fortnight and there had not been any random heavy rainfall to do the job for her. The fellow turned up and did a fantastic job worthy of an Oscar -if there existed any for superb cleaning services.

It was only moments after he had left that I noticed that he had ridden off into the sunset on his bicycle with GHC 5.00 in his pocket as well as our one and only decent yellow dustpan. At first it was pretty hilarious and absolutely ludicrous that our dustpan had disappeared - until a mega search around the house and in the car turned up no dustpan.
So we concluded that we had been robbed of something subliminal, yet robbed all the same. You see, it wasn't about the item which was stolen, it was about the PRINCIPLE. Who steals a DUSTPAN?? Totally perplexed right now.

Ah well, the 'thieving' little bugger telephoned again today asking permission to come and wash the car again. I was against it, whispering desperately to my sister NOT to say yes because I was convinced he was part of a den of thieves looking to take advantage of three women who lived with no man in their mists. However Awo agreed to his request and then went on to question him in a very flat no- nonsense voice on the whereabouts of our beloved dustpan. The little bugger lied again, giving us a location to search for the dustpan - which if you are smart enough to guess by now, we still did not find.

He is coming by tomorrow or the next to wash the car, and as much as i am against it, my sister is adamant that he comes so that he can show us where exactly he placed the dustpan or whip it out of thin air like a magician doing a hat trick in order to prove his innocence or his guilt.

I am still convinced however that we have found the forty-one thief from the fabled story of Ali Baaba, tomorrow shall only tell...

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

MARCH 1997

March 1997
It was getting to that time of the year when the molten red earth from the previous season turned into a murky muddy mess as the parched earth greedily drank the rain water that the heavens generously provided.

The play ground was flooded, and from her seat by the window, Nhyira couldn't see a single dry blade of grass on the football field where she and her class mates had been messing around in barely an hour ago.

In the back ground Mr. Antwi the mathematics teacher droned on and on about the Pi theorem, but Nhyira continued to stare out of the window, as if mesmerized by each sheet of rain which hit the ground. She prayed there would be a rainbow after the rain. A rainbow like the one painted in the picture book version of the good news bible she had had as a child....all those colours, a sign of God's promise never to destroy the earth again with a flood.

She was so engrossed in her day dream about her rainbow after the rain that she didn't hear the teacher until he rapped his cane swiftly and purposefully over her text book. Startled she jumped, but kept her head bowed waiting for the swift crack of his knuckles on her head. He had never knocked her before because she had never given him the need to, because she only spoke in class during a lesson when asked a question.

“Nhyira” he said quietly, displeasure calmly masked “Go to the board work out the answer”
She raised her head slowly, looked at the question chalked on the blackboard and swallowed hard. She had absolutely no idea how to solve the problem, mathematics was her cross to bear in school; her heart always beat uncontrollably at the end of the term when the report cards were handed out. It was always below average and below average was not good at all.

“Nhyira!” Mr. Antwi called out again, swiftly rapping his cane against her text book once again to catch her attention and motioning her forward with the tip of the cane.

As if propelled by some invisible hands she made her way slowly to the board, delaying as much time as possible so she could have another look at the question and attempt to make sense of it before she reached the board. She heard the sniggers before she made it to the board and she ground her teeth together in order not to spit out an insult. Just then, the teacher stammered
“It’s OK Nhyira, never mind, come back”
Nhyira swung around confused and started to speak, it was then that she noticed the embarrassment on the teachers face, that it was only the boys who were laughing, and the girls were all quiet; either biting their lips or whispering  to each other whilst looking at her furtively.

Mr. Antwi motioned to the girl’s class prefect and stammered quickly
“Take her to the...”
 He trailed off, but the girl’s class prefect quickly jumped to her feet, rushed the confused girl out of the class room.
“Ah Olivia...”
 Nhyira began to protest as she was bundled onto the veranda but the stronger girl simply nudged her forward away from the classroom door and its curious onlookers, and proceeded to bunch the skirt of Nhyira’s uniform into a loose knot, forcing the skirt to ride above her knees
“There's blood on your dress”
Olivia whispered, glancing around to make sure no one on the veranda heard her

 Nhyira swung around trying to see, snatched the fabric out of Olivia’s hands, unraveled the knot and saw. Her heart sank, and her hands began to tremble. She suddenly wanted to scream. Olivia grabbed the uniform again and tied the knot again. She nudged Nhyira forward until she started walking again and said quietly
“I’m taking you to the toilet, try n wash your dress there whilst u wait for me to get a sanitary towel from one of the vocational skills teacher.”

Nhyira didn't hear her this time around, she was staring towards the play ground again, the rain was letting up and the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. There was a bright halo around the sun, it was her rainbow, but for some there were no pretty colours, just different shades of blinding bright red.

WOMANHOOD......no warning

Thursday, April 26, 2012


Dear Blog,
I miss you so much. I've been a terrible girlfriend and i know i have no better excuse for that, so here goes: I AM SO SORRY BABY! PLEEEEEAAASE GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE??!!

Love Aku.