Monthly Archives: March 2013

Finding Kuukua (4)

Finding Kuukua (4)

Immediately he entered the room Muniru felt the vibe between Kuukua and his brother. Truth be told, he had been tailing Kuukua for a while and wanted to have her all to himself. He had just like a master hunter laid his bait for his prey tactfully and like a lion he was not going let her go to another alpha male no matter  who he was. Not even his own brother for even though blood is thicker than water, hausa koko too is thicker than blood. He had seen the chemistry that was brewing between them. Her eyes glowed and squinted and he could feel her body vibrate to the rhythm of her heart beat that sound like the thumping of a calabash placed upside down on water when Musa held her hand. He wanted her like an obroni need sun lotion to keep his or her skin from tanning. What was he thinking knowing pairing Musa, a gigolo with a beautiful woman on a project without thinking would breed trouble? There were times he wished he was Musa. His brother just had a certain connection with women that was difficult to comprehend. It was as if he left an indelible sweetness on the tongues of their curiosity anytime he approached any woman and they never felt aggrieved when he dumped them. Muniru was sure if King Solomon were alive in this age and time, his brother Musa would have indeed been a worthy foe to the King in the affairs of women.

The meeting was quiet tensed and Kuukua could feel the heat of dislike the two brothers felt for each other. It was as though the sun had been plucked from the skies and placed directly in the conference room. You could virtually see smoke puffing out of Musa’s ears and nostrils like an old chimney at an old mission house when Muniru told him that he needed him to be the subject  for  a  documentary on how gigolo’s operate in Ghana. Saying he was outraged was actually an understatement on how Musa felt as he stormed out of the office, and to make matters worse, Muniru shouted the most ridiculous offers anyone could make to his blood brother. A million Ghana Cedis!

Kuukua wondered whether she had just joined the circus or maybe there were hidden cameras around filming her reaction to the drama unfolding before her and someone would jump out of nowhere and scream that she had was being punked. There was somehow a sexiness to Musa’s anger that made her smile like a shy school girl who was being talked to by her crush to herself. His features were more defined that it felt as though his saucepan belly had been dissolved by the anger like salt sprinkled on steaming kotomire. She found Muniru attractive but Musa was the one who had charmed her and moreover she had vowed never to have anything romantic with her boss and was not going to break her vow.

Once he had sat in his car, Musa burst out into a hysterical laugh. So Muniru was actually interested in Kuukua. He knew his brother like the clouds knew the intensity of the sun’s heat yet just like the clouds he always accommodated him. Well it was good to see his brother had found someone he was interested in but from all indications Kuukua seemed attracted to him rather than Muniru. This was the right opportunity to take his pound of flesh but he was not the revengeful type so he was just going to walk away and be the bigger man though the offer was tempting. He drove off as Kuukua emerged from the building and headed straight home. Had she seen him laughing? So unusual of him, Musa drank pineapple juice that evening instead of his customary chilled bottle of beer that soothed his throat and paved the way for his usual fufu or banku supper. All he could think about was the beauty of Kuukua’s arse in her skirt she wore as she bent over to type on her computer when he entered the conference room. It was as beautiful as two yam mounds created by a Dagaati man ready to receive some yam seeds but it was her calm nature  like palm wine in a well-polished calabash when things got heated between Muniru and himself that swayed him into having a deep respect for her now. He was going to avoid her like a plague.

When Kuukua got home the first person she called was Adez, who despite her busy Wednesday was glad that Kuukua had called. She knew instantaneously that something was bothering her best friend and offered to pass by Kuukua’s place but Kuukua declined with the excuse of Kobby going to be around and though she promised Adez she would call her before she goes to bed so they can talk, she knew Adez could pull a surprise on her by coming over, but who cared? Adez was more than a best friend, she was the sister that came out of friendship and her confidant.  Kuukua changed into a silk robe and decided that it was not necessary to wear panties. She went back to the living room and tried to wrap her head around what had happened earlier on and though Muniru had called her to apologies, all she could think about was Musa. It was a though his image had been hot plated and etched in her memory and wanting to loosen herself she went to fetch the bottle of wine she had bought for Kobby from the fridge and poured out a glass for herself. As she took the first sip she began to wonder why she was drinking alcohol but the sharp sweetness of the wine urge her on with its charm on her tongue and before she realized what was happening to her, she had drank more than half the bottle. The tipsiness she felt made her crave for some hot steamy sex  session that would burn her sweetly and leave her speaking in tongues like a possessed charismatic prayer warrior. She heard a car toot its horn and staggered to the window to see whether it was coming to her house.

The night reflection on her window caught her image of herself, with her piercing reddish eyes and jet-black hair. She wore it just past her shoulder blades in a straight cut. She tossed her head left and right like a model in a hair relaxer television commercial and giggled and how silly it felt to be doing so. She then let her hand slide up her body to her breast. She toyed with her nipple until it was taut. Letting the feel, of her pinch and brush motion tantalize her senses. She let the hand that was on the window tease her other nipple. She played back and forth with grabbing and squeezing her breasts, to pinching her nipples to brushing the palms of her hands over the taunt nipples. It felt so good, so right while she thought of Musa’s sexy angry face.She let her black silk robe slide off her naked body as her hands brought pleasure to her breasts and then slowly slid down between her legs.

The ledge of the tall windows was at just the right height for her to set her naked foot on the ledge. She let one of her hands slide up her body to her neck to rub as the other hand slid between her legs, brushing her palm across her naked fountain of sensitivities. The moisture had already accumulated. Feeling her knees tremble with sweet weakness, Kuukua half dragged herself from the window to the couch and continued to play with herself. She had never done this but with the deep burning sensation of excitement about to erupt from within her,she was not sure she wanted to stop. She had never felt like this during any of her love making sessions with Kobby. She felt her body getting ready to convulse and just then the door opened and all she could do was freeze.


Posted by on March 23, 2013 in Fiction


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One Ghana Cedi Thoughts

One Ghana Cedi Thoughts

Another Friday is here again and as I walked to my usual Hausa Koko joint for my daily dosage of breakfast this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the difference in the appearance of the various people I passed by. They looked more of themselves though I wonder if they felt like that, suave and beautiful in the local wax print attires they were wearing compared to the so called official wear that made them look like the proverbial monkey that ignores banana to eat butter. For a while I was confused as to why a lot of people were dressed in local prints then it dawn on me that today is a Friday hence the ‘FRIDAY WEAR’. As usual of me I started laughing hysterically, an act that attracted a few raised eye brows which did not perturb me in any way. In this country we do a lot of funny and crazy things all in the name of modernization and yet day in day out we cry that local business is not booming. How on earth can we just dedicate a day out of the five working week days of a week to wearing clothes made from local prints and why not the other way round? Pathetic! How will the textile and fashion industries develop if we have this lackadaisical attitude towards it? We have become the so generous husband who will give out his wife to his best friend all in the name of generosity. At times I wonder if we as Ghanians have any identity at all. Our attitude towards what belongs to us is so funny that we will readily accept anything foreign to implement at the expense of what we have and know to be the best. Take for example how with the emergence of Beer bars, palm wine bars have faded out of the system.

Gone are the days when palm wine bars were there places to be because you were for sure not only going to get a treat of a refreshing natural drink but also a good dosage of palm wine highlife music a rich dosage of authentic Ghanaian music, good delicacies (grasscutter light soup, roasted maize and groundnuts) history and gossip(local and international). You always walked out of the palm wine bar learning a thing or two about the history of your community, life in general and having a song composed with your name in it once you buy a calabash or two for the palm wineists who most of the times are also comedians as well as parodist of the local scene. Unlike the palm wine bars, beer bars offer you akpeteshie that will normally cost you forty pesewas a tot at two cedis and above just because the name has been changed from akpeteshie to names such as Vodka, black label and cognac. Since when did all ‘paintey’ stop being ‘paintey’? Most of the young men are carrying beer induced pregnancies with only God knowing when they will deliver (Please I’m not one of them) and most of the discussions that go on there revolves around the size and shape of the breast or arse of the girl who just walked pass the table, politics, girl problem and most importantly past track records of drinking and womanizing levels. If you think I’m lying, I’m willing to bet my one Ghana cedi on this especially today being a Friday.

The question we need to ask ourselves is do we intend to leave a legacy of a true Ghanaian identity for the next generation based on our belief and appreciation of the indigenous things we have as Ghanians, our a legacy that is based on our misplaced priorities and borrowed identities that say absolutely nothing about us? Hate it or love it we need to sit up and act on the direction we want to go. As for me my one Ghana cedi thoughts will always be expressed.


Posted by on March 15, 2013 in ARTICLES


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Finding Kuukua (3)

Finding Kuukua (3)

He began kissing her neck and ear as he took off her hair clip so her hair falls freely. His hot breathe teasing. She could feel the roughness of his palm as he began rubbing his on the back and insides of her thighs. Surprisingly the friction caused by the rub sent short circuit shocks of pleasure that made her tingle and her toes curl. Soft moans escaped her lips as she moved her legs a little farther apart. He gently slid his hand up to the top of her leg and felt the warmth and moisture she had already accumulated. She felt light headed and dizzy trying to catch her breath.His hand gently massaged over her panties touching the front of her as he dribbled soft kisses on the back of her leg. The amount of pleasure this gave her was so incredible she whimpered out.

“BIZZ – BIZZ – BIZZ” Her hand shot out like a zongo watchman’s arrow from his bow in pursuit of a fowl thief on a rainy dawn to the side and slammed the snooze button on her alarm clock reading six a.m. Stretching to wake up she realized she fell asleep to the steamy image of the man on the cover of her romance novel and her dreams filled with one particular man in mind. A man who could very easily be her mystery man. She turned off her alarm and decided it was going to be a great day and headed to the shower.

In the shower she absent mindedly toyed with the cake of soap and then as she felt the lather she rubbed her body like the models in a Lux television commercial. Even when the soap slipped from her hands and fell on her foot, she continued rubbing herself as though she was under an Ewe and Nzema dreamy spell. She closed her eyes and dreamed of a faceless man who no matter how hard she tried to give a face to, was just faceless. Still dreaming she let the water in the shower run extra hot as it steamed up her body. She let the feel of his imaginary hands run the lathered soap run over and between every space and nook on her body. She had let his hand brush once between her legs over her bald center of sensitivities and she felt the excitement build all over again. His hands fully lathered, both went up to her breasts and toyed with her nipples the way she desired to be handled. She could feel him pinch her nipples and rolled them with his fingers. Then he let the palm of his hands brush across the sensitive nipples and a slight tingling surged through her body that caused her to slip and bump her head against the wall making her feel the physical presence of reality staring down at her in the shower. She didn’t know whether she felt more embarrassed by the fact that she was actually playing with herself or the fact that she had slipped and fallen. Her only consolation though was that there were no other witnesses aside herself. Without thinking she knelt down and murmured ‘Father into your hands I commit myself please deliver me from this sweet evil’…

It had been a long time Musa woke alone in bed and it felt awkwardly sweet when he woke up. He starched his hand and it struck his mobile phone. He picked it up and looked at the time. It was just six o’clock. There was no need to hurry out of bed since the meeting with his brother was scheduled for 10:00 am. He toyed with the idea of whether continue sleeping or get up and prepare for the meeting all the same. He so much wanted to avoid the early morning traffic that normally spanned across the yawn of the old Osu road. Travelling on that route most of the time made him wonder whether government really had a clue of long term planning and executions. Webbed thoughts of why the road was never built as a dual carriage road was something that even Ananse the spider could never figure out. Not really sure of what to do Musa decided to hit the treadmill in the living room yet the only problem was how he was going to drag himself with his saucepan belly to the tread mill without losing focus for the exercise…

Kuukua glanced at her watch as she paced up and down the conference room like an abongo soldier on guard duty. She was informed thirty minutes ago that her boss Muniru wanted to have a meeting with her and another person in the conference room at 10:00am and wanting to create a good impression here she was in the conference room waiting. It was just fifteen minutes to ten and her anxiety of meeting Muniru made her feel sweaty and sticky like glue made from cassava starch. She had the urge to pee but decide against it. She practiced breathing in and out to relax her nerves which had other ideas of their own. She didn’t want to see his face when he entered so she chose a seat which had her back to the doorway.She move over to her lap top and arched herself into a posy stance as she typed…

When Musa entered the conference room her nearly screamed out of delight, and he could do was mutter “wo tu nunu” under his breath. Who was this woman with the figure of a walking guitar that had his heart charmed to her music? Her whole body was a whole orchestra producing sweet musi.c Her legs were well defined like puna yams from Salaga market and her hips we just on point. Just as he was thinking about what to say, she stopped typing and turned around and that was when their eyes lock and the recognition became clear.

Wow! So her mystery man was actually her boss? Today was indeed a good day Kuukua thought to herself. Here in front of her was the man she had fantasized about the whole night and morning. Even in his demin jeans and red stripped long sleeved shirt which had the sleeves folded to his elbow with matching red sneakers on, he looked like a demi god. Whose black sister or daughter had Zeus bedded this time to give birth to such an offspring?  Wanting to speak Kuukua found herself fumbling with her speech like a just cured dumb person at a healing and deliverance crusade.

“I didn’t hear you enter Sir’

She finally said.

“It’s a great honor to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard so much about you’

Realizing that she didn’t know who he was, Musa smiled and decided to also play along.

‘Nice to meet you too, do the nice things you’ve heard about me included me entering places unannounced?’ he joked as he stretched his hand for a hand shake to which she obliged and when the lock hands each one of them was fighting his own demon.

Her hands were as soft as fleece from a well-kept Zongo sheep and her fingers were slender and long. He nails we short and neat and look as though they we manicure when indeed they weren’t. His handshake was firm as the faith she had that her day was going to be great. Its texture remaindered her of the man in her dreams or was her imagination playing tricks on her? Both of the lost in their own thoughts, they hadn’t realized that Muniru had walked in and it was not until he let out a fake cough that they left their individual trances.

“So I see you to have met” he said.

‘Not really’ Musa replied.

“Ok then, Kuukuwa, you meet my brother Musa.”

What! He was not Muniru? How foolish could she have been? She was about to say something but decided against it. At the right time she was going to tell him her piece of mind. Musa could feel the intensity of the anger burning in Kuukua and knew she wouldn’t hesitate to put him in his place once she gets the chance but he was ready for this new adventure…


Posted by on March 13, 2013 in Fiction


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Finding Kuukua (2)

Finding Kuukua (2)

Who was that hulk that just drove off shaking his head and smiling at her? As she thought about the crazy things she could do with him, her heart began to race like a city mouse running from a countryside cat. Though she had started working with Focus Eye Productions as a Creative Director for just two months, she had never met the owner Murinu Sherif. She had heard how much of a hulk he was and how a lot of the young ladies fantasied over him like a hungry orphan fantasying over a cup of soaked gari as though it were a meal for Kings. So unusual of her, the gossips about Muniru were tickling her personal fantasies and here she was  milling over a man she had not officially met. A man who she wouldn’t be surprised did not know she existed in the company or that she is working for him, looking at the magnitude of wealth and companies he owned around the city. Was he the man who just drove past her and somehow disappointed her by not insulting her as she expected him to do? Never in a million years did she think that she would be pawning for a man this way. However, something about this man felt right. If he was not her dream man, he definitely could be the best man  to replace Kobby.

That night the slumbering thoughts were not working and the Luther Vandross tunes she was playing from her phone since ECG had decided to put off her lights, which normally would soothe her, felt like they were poking fingers into raw nerves. Getting up to close the window, Kuukua saw her reflection with just enough light coming from her hallway and saw the worry in her face. She smiled at herself, opened her eyes wider and tilted her head just a tad, a happier looking expression shown back. She closed the curtains and thought about sleeping in the nude. As her sleep shirt hit the floor she realized there was just enough cool in the room now from the window being open that being naked made her have to pee.

“Tinkle time.” Talking to herself, she began to giggle on the way into her bathroom. Living on her own and now working alone, lately she found herself constantly talking to herself, aloud and in her head. As if, it was a calming effect on her currently wayward life. If it were not 1 a.m. on a Tuesday, she would call her best friend, Adez, to release some of her worries. Adez had always been there for her since she was a little girl. She was the sister she never had. She helped her through puberty, boys and college, and now she had helped her more than ever when she thought she lost the only man she ever considered a dad. Calling Adez would only put two people out of bed. Two people who worked hard and needed their sleep, besides Adez’s Wednesday’s at her hair salon were the busiest. She would need a darn good reason for waking her up.

Feeling silly, walking from her bathroom to her bed in only her socks, she smiled from deep within. She thought of how it would be if a man were waiting for her in her bed, to welcome her back from her late night rendezvous from the bathroom. How he would pull her naked body close and curve his body to hers, trace her cleavage with his finger, suck her nipples till they become hard and red, tickle her with wet kisses provide warmth and protection with his sweet nonsense and finally enter her gentle, rock her gently as he breathes gently yet intensely against her back and finally they both fall asleep with him still inside her. For now, she would grab an extra pillow, set it next to her stomach while lying on her side and tossing a leg over the end of the pillow. It would have to do for now. Counting sheep, it is. She thought to herself. Starting at sixty, thinking somehow that would give her a head start. A few minutes passed as she counted to herself, envisioning a peaceful place by the lake.

Realizing that counting got her nowhere she wanted to be asleep. She kicked off the comforter; grabbing her sleep shirt, she slid it back on and then the light came back on. She got out of bed and went to switch of the light, then, she slid back into bed and flipped on her reading light. She stretched her arm and scanned blindly underneath the pillow next to her and then she pulled out the new romance book she bought the day before.  Staring at the book cover which had a handsome black man in white briefs with a bulge made Kuukua feel a bit dreamy. Who wouldn’t? The man had strong features, crystal clear eyes, and a sincere smile with a detection of a dimple in his cheeks, strong jaw line and dark curly hair with sun kissed highlights…

Tonight Musa felt a little bit not himself and it was obvious with the way his dance steps not being near anything perfect. An averagely built young man with a pouch of a stomach which he referred to as a saucepan belly, Musa was just the toast for every woman that came his way. He just knew how to treat them right unlike their boyfriends and husbands and one of the things he did so well was never to get emotionally involved with any of the ladies he had an encounter with. He had perfected the act of handling women so much that even the toughest of women just melted in his arms like poki on the tongue. He had seen her walk out of the office and was struck be her beauty. To confirm things for himself he had hurriedly driven after her and his inquisitiveness paid off and yet he didn’t understand why he did what he had done. Here he was with his latest client in his arms on the dance floor with yet his mind kept oscillating like a broken pendulum between what was happening on the dance floor and her face. No woman has had this kind of effect on him he thought to himself. Well, he’ll be lying if he says that. Sitso had him at her finger tips some years ago until she crumpled his world when he caught her in bed with her brother Muniru and since that incident he just treated women like a Daily Graphic newspaper. Never going back to read it again the following day when he could a new edition to read. He hated to see himself a gigolo but in real terms that was what actually was. He glanced at his watch and realized it was 1a.m. Jeez he needed to get out of here for he had a long day ahead of him tomorrow. His brother Muniru had finally decided to ask his help on a documentary project he was contracted to do. Tonight he was not going to go for a marathon and so he led the lady off the dance floor and after she had taken her seat, he excused himself and walked out of the night club.


Posted by on March 11, 2013 in Fiction


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Finding Kuukua (1)

Finding Kuukua (1)

She shined like a freshly rolled kube toffee on display in her coffee cloth tied with expertise around her chest as she walked past them with the pot balanced on her head like the skies holding the sun in its place. Even with just a cloth tied around her chest, she looked like combination of Naomi Campbell and Tyra Banks in one on a catwalk when they were in their prime or then again well molded hills of fufu in an beautifully designed asanka with her beauty and grace being the grasscutter, smoked fish, snails, pig feet palmnut soup with every spice in the right proportion poured around the fufu and all the boys could do was whistle under tone, for they were more than dazzled by her beauty. Anyone who sees her walk by would believe that cats learnt to walk like her and not the other way round…

Kuukua always wondered why men always cat called after her but none had the courage to walk to her and express how the felt towards her. Maybe what they felt for her  was not a deep feeling that would propel them or even cause them to jerk forward like a rickety la trotro to confront her. As she shifted the gear lever of her car and pulled out of the parking space towards the main road, her mind began to drift like a calabash on a pond on how much her sex life sucked and how getting laid by another man was very tempting.  Not that she wanted another man in her life but her relationship with Kobby just lacked the kind of spark that she wanted but just couldn’t find. Two weeks ago when he came for the weekend there was nothing special about the lovemaking session they had. It was as stale as an unripe mango on the lips of a city child in the village for the first time for holidays.  Sex was supposed to be fun, at least that’s what most of the romance books she read described the act, unless they were actually lying and indeed she would  be the biggest fool to have believed in them but then again the way the other ladies talked about their sexual experiences just made not believing what this books say so wrong.

She remembers the last but one encounter she had with Kobby. On that day she had gotten home from work very early. She prepared his favorite meal, took a shower and waited for him. Immediately he opened the door she jumped into his arms locking him with her feet as though they we octopus tentacles and hugged him amidst kissing him passionately.  For one she wanted to be a whore for her man but his reaction just deflated her excitement like a puffed buff loaf that had been taken a hard bite on. Well, all hope was not lost she was going to be the steamroller he would never forget.

When they had finally made their way to the bedroom after dinner, she suggested they had a bath together to which Kobby obliged, but all he could think about was how strange Kuukua was behaving. If he hadn’t know her better he would have said she was high on something or yet still bewitched by someone but Kuukua was too much of an angel to do drugs or be bewitched.  Kuukua realized that though Kobby’s hand was on her firm breast he was not even squeezing it. Looking into his eyes, she realized he was lost in his own web of thoughts. After the bath his countenance toward their lovemaking didn’t change. It was the same number of thrusts and him collapsing on top of her as he climaxed. All her work resulted into nothing. She was beginning to believe this was just a formality and being someone who was not really a conformist, things needed to change and change fast but what kind of change was she really ready for?

She was brought back to reality by the honking of the horn of the driver who was behind her. As she made way for him to overtake her, he slowed down right by her and instead of insulting her as she expected him to do, he just smiled at her, shook his head and drove off…..


Posted by on March 8, 2013 in Fiction


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Ghana Social Media Awards (Vote for Me)

Blogging Ghana launched Ghana’s first Social Media Awards last year to honor the best Ghanaian bloggers for the year 2012. Different blogs were nominated under different categories.
Thanks to nominations by my fans and readers, my Writing blog was selected under the “Best Creative, Literary Short Stories, Poetry Blog” category (HURRAY!!!!!). This nomination feels really good.
To win this I need you all to vote for my blog by tomorrow which is the deadline . It’s a simple voting process which wouldn’t take too much of you time.
Voting instructions:
  1. Enter your name and email address
  2. Look for “Best Creative, Literary Short Stories, Poetry Blog” category (I’m second on the list) and select my blog
  1. Click next at the bottom of the page
  2. enter the verification code into the box provided
  3. click submit and you are done
Leave a comment

Posted by on March 7, 2013 in Rants


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