Tag Archives: Relationship

The Ugly Duckling

The Ugly Duckling

Aside the new building that had sprang up in place of the mud house that housed his family, the old neighborhood had not experienced any significant changes. The road was still as dusty as always and Castle du Assiam as they called back in the days still sat on top of the hill casting a menacing shadow on the other houses at the foot of the hill. The new paint work made it stand out like the clean shaven head of a big headed child. Memories began to trickle down Kuuku’s mind and all he could let out was a chuckle. As the taxi wiggled itself up the hill like a pepper worm, it’s body began to vibrate due to the bass from the music blurring out of the house. He remembered how he and his seven other siblings in their old but new dresses will line up at the gate of the Assiams during festive seasons to receive gifts of sweets, biscuits and squash from Mrs. Assiam. He had always admired that woman and it was going to be great seeing her again. He just was not sure if she was going to make him out. As kids he remembered always being the bone of contention between Sika and her friends. There were times he even got ganged up on and beaten by her elder brother Jones and his friends just for being around her. One time it got so bad that, his Mother made him promise to stay away from any of the Assiams after he got home with a torn uniform and had two missing front teeth. Up till date he still remembered what she said that night as she nursed his wounds. ‘Kuu, when the lizard and its cousin the gecko decided to have a party a butterfly must avoid attending it no matter how enticing the invite is.’ Secretly he still maintained the friendship with Sika till she left for the UK after primary six and that was eighteen years ago. When he received a friend request from her two years ago on Facebook, he was not sure whether it was actually her. Even after accepting her friend request it would take him another two months to respond to messages she had sent and that was when their friendship rekindled. Over the next year they skyped almost every day with each other, and exchanged tons of messages via whatsapp. It was as though they were trying to cover lost grounds. Gradually his emotions began to gravitate towards love and so he told her how he felt about her. When she told him she couldn’t be with him, he felt sad but grateful that they were still very good friends. Deep in his heart he wished that things would change between them and was willing to be patient for this to happen. Two days ago, he received a phone call from an unknown local number and it was Sika. She said she had just arrived in Ghana and was inviting him for a party at her father’s house that weekend.


Truth be told Kuuku was not sure whether he was doing the right thing or not. Going to this party meant opening closets he was not ready to open yet but as fate would have it Sika had insisted that he come at all cost because she had something important to tell him. Just as he got out of the taxi a saloon car speed towards him and nearly rammed him into the gate. Then a head pops out from the driver’s side and hauls cusses at him ‘idiot do you think this is your bedroom’. As the car drove past him into the house, Kuuku realized it was Max, the guy who was madly in love with Sika when they were kids. Indeed nothing had changed about his attitude. Smiling coyly to himself Kuuku entered the house and after scanning through the crowd walked to an empty table and sat down. A waiter walked up to him and asked what he cared for. Then a sweet voice gave a response from behind him

‘A mixture of Orange juice and pineapple juice spiced with a shot of vodka will do’ replied Sika to the waiter who was taking Kuuku’s order.

Smiling, Kuuku got up from his chair and hugged her knocking a few glasses off the table. He pulls away from the hug, looks at her from head to toe, signals her to do a three sixty turn and hugs her passionately again

‘God you look so stunning girl. Now I’ve realize how much I have missed you’ he whispered into her ears

Sika was lost in her own world in his arms. He smelled really nice and looked more handsome than she had imagined. Indeed this was the right time to be in his arms. Just then the music went off cutting and blurring out of the speakers was Max’s voice.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, Can we now have a speech from the lady of the moment my lovely wife Sika. Sika where are you? We are waiting.’

Wife? Wow! Reality has a way of handing rude awakening to the dreamy ones Kuuku thought to himself. Now everything was making sense. Embarrassed by Max’s attitude, Sika wished the ground would open its mouth and swallow her. What would Kuuku think of her now? As the crowd turned towards her and started clapping, Max rushed to her side and virtually dragged her to the microphone stand. With the microphone now in her hand she looked towards where Kuuku was standing, but he was no longer there. Her heart sunk and her feet began to wobble.

‘Errrm, Ladies and Gentlemen thanks for honoring my invitation. To set the records straight Max is my ex-husband who I think has had a little too much to drink. With that out of the way, Let’s have fun. DJ let the music play.’

Sika dropped the microphone and dashed towards the gate screaming

‘Kuuku! Kuu! Kuuku! Wait! Don’t goooooo…’

Just as she got to the gate she saw a taxi speed off. Overwhelmed by what had happened she broke down in tears. Now she has lost the one true love of her life thanks to Max. Just then she felt a tap on her shoulder she turned and it was Max. She felt like tearing him into pieces and scattering it at the four corners of the earth so that no one could piece him together. There are indeed some devils in one’s life that stick like a shadow.

‘Gosh, please get out of my life. Dear Lord, let this divine representative of stupidity vanish’ she yelled tearfully.

As she walked past him, Max grabbed her arm violently and she flinched in pain, then out of nowhere appeared Kuuku.

‘Charley, let go of her, you are creating a scene’ Kuuku retorted

Sika broke free from Max’s grip and rushed into Kuuku’s arms. Her tears rolled off her beautiful cheeks and hit his chest like pellets from a gun. He could feel a mixture of contradicting emotions emanating from them and somehow felt glad that she indeed had feelings for him that she was no longer willing to hide. Then from nowhere a punch landed squarely on his face from Max. Instinctively he Kuuku also threw a punch in Max’s direction but with Sika stuck in between them, he could not hit the target the way he wanted to. He rushed to Sika’s rescue and virtually picked her from the floor. A small crowd had gathered in front of the house during the scuffle and among them was Mr. Assiam. He signaled Kuuku to bring Sika into the home. As the two love birds walked past him, he smiled. Just then Max made a move towards the house but was stopped by Mr. Assiam.

‘Max, go home! You’ve caused enough mayhem for a night.’ With this said he turned and entered his house.

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Posted by on October 30, 2015 in Fiction


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There was a loud hush across the court room as I stepped into the docket to defend myself. I do not remember that last time I smiled, for life had not given me too many chances to do so but here I was smiling sheepishly to the judge as he asked me whether there was anything I had to say before my sentencing since I had opted for no lawyer to defend me during this trail. Aside politicians, lawyers were the next people I loathed with a passion. How they can insist something is white when we all see is as black and still get away with this baffles me. Moreover the more money you have the more convincing your lawyer is and so someone will steal five fingers of plantain and get sentenced to 5 years in prison whilst our politicians steal our monies and go scot free. And so with a little shivery but firm voice these were my words before the sentencing.

‘Your Honor, I can still feel my hand still vibrating from the slap I gave the Member of Parliament on his face that floored him. For some awkward reason the accompanying pain in my knuckles feels sensational. All the anger that has built up within me over the years found an outlet and indeed it was unfortunate that it had to be his face. I can sense the surprise look on your faces but I think it was just the right time to put him in his place. I am old and may not understand your modern ways of life but I will not sit down any longer and see a small boy in the name of politics literally hang the under pants of his mother on a pole, fly it at full mast at the market place with pride, call his father impotent and expect people like me to clap for him. Nonsensical nonsense!! Your honor, pardon my French expression.

Your honor, I have served this country with my sweat and blood. At age 18 I was drafted into the army to go to fight in the world war. My testicles were pinched hard every week for a month to make sure I had no hernia and I was fit for battle before we were shipped of like a tin of sardines. Lives were lost on our way to India by ship and I saw friends’ dead bodies tossed overboard into the sea without paying them homage.

When we got to India, rumours went round among the Indians that we are cannibals, chop people and have tails So when we went to bathe in the streams, people asked us not to take our pants off in case they would be frightened by our tails. I survived all the derogatory names that came as a result of these rumours. In the Burmese jungle there was something we called tiger leech. It’s very small, very thin. If it gets to your body it sucks your blood and get bigger and bigger. So we used a cigarette end or a match on the under of that thing to take its fangs out. But if you don’t do that, but just pull it off, the fangs will stay within your body, rot in your skin and go bad – very bad.’

If you are in a war you forget everything. There was no time to pray. This jungle war was not a child’s play – it was something very dangerous, I have seen friends and acquaintances die with their intestines gushing out as though we are at an abattoir. I have choked on and somehow lost my sense of smell because of my exposure to the stench of burnt decomposing human flesh and lead that tore ones nose away from the freedom of fresh air. Experiencing war makes you a different person. You leave behind every civilian attitude, every gentle attitude that you ever had. You forgot … everything. After the war, they did not let us come home straight away. They gave us two good months, with money, to go to any part of India. It was something to refresh us, to let us come back to a human being. An action I still up till now do not understand.

Your Honor, when I came back, all the remunerations that were to be paid us were never paid. To make matters worse my wife whom I had married before my enlistment left me for Efo Dzidefo the corn mill operator behind the cathedral because she could not stand my screaming at night due to the nightmares. To make myself employable, I worked as a laborer on farms and paid for numerous private teachers to teach me

I have been called hideous names and hear rumours about myself that I knew nothing of and surprises me like a mouse caught in a trap just because of a bait of roasted fish head yet I have never for once reacted violently towards anyone in this community. But alas, your honor, the actions of the MP over the years has become the blisters on the soles of my feet that had dragged patience off my bed. I have seen governments come and go, I have met minister and MPs from different regimes but honestly speaking, the disrespect of this young man who can be my great grandson not only towards me but towards this entire community stinks like the flatulence of a pregnant woman who has had her fair share of boiled beings with egg and washed it down with a snack of ‘wagashi’ and ‘di na ta’ milkshake. Last election he promised to make sure the local LA school was fixed and stocked with the relevant textbook, he promised to make sure the was a scholarship for brilliant students from this village, he promised to fix the road for us and make sure we had good drinking water if we voted him as our MP. Me I do not trust him oooh because aside all the empty promises all he brought to us solicit for our votes was four bars of key soap. Your honor, four bars of keysoap for a community of four hundred people. After he won the elections, ask him when the last time he came here was or whether we have seen the shadows of his promise?

Now that it is time for another election he rides in his big car into this community that breastfed him into who he is, choking us with clouds of dust and comes blinking like a malfunctioning disco watch to solicit for votes.

Your honor if you are working very hard to look after a lean man who says he is a sickling and this man begins to win snoring contests against the plump you at night, then something is wrong somewhere. I do not regret slapping him. At age 88 there are quite a number of thing I regret in life but not slapping the idiot. In fact, If I get the chance again I will slap him or any other politician that takes the citizenry for granted. I am tired of all this nonsense and so your honor If you will sentence me make sure it is to death because at least there I will have my piece of mind.’




Posted by on December 30, 2014 in Fiction


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My Chronicles 3 (Life of a battered young woman)

My Chronicles 3 (Life of a battered young woman)


Its crazy how writing about my story with Pastor Fred bothers me a lot but this is a major chapter in my life that I need not over look because at the end of the day, it is my prayer that any of you who finds yourself in this kind of situation will at least know that you are neither the first nor the last to experience this. I have read most of your reactions and I know what most of you feel for me is neither sympathy nor pity. Most of you feel I’m stupid to allow myself go through all these things just like my mother did and there is no way I hold these against you. Somehow, her experiences made her more inclined towards the belief that her problems and my problems in relation to men was more spiritual that psychological hence her decision to introduce to Pastor Fred. Our relationship started out like a lost sheep and a caring shepherd who had found the once priced sheep in the most devastating state and trying everything within his power to restore the sheep to its past glory. With the zeal I was working with in the house of the lord, the Church snatched me up to groom me into a wife, teach me ministry etiquette, and give me face time with my pastor so I could “counsel” with him and make sure my decisions were ran through him before I did anything major in life.

To be frank, Fred was a rock star of a growing church…worshipped by many. He came from a gambling and petty background that fed his appetite for the carnal things according to him. He got “saved” and sought a leadership position and was a very talented guy who rose through the ranks quickly. He was very comfortable in the spotlight and extremely charismatic and he actually seemed like a nice guy on the surface though some have reported he can be a jerk…but so can we all at times. Normally I would not date a baldhead man who had a potbelly, which was competing with his head for attention but getting to know (at least that’s what I thought) him more made his body structure the least of my worries. He has this fashion sense that was on point and very admirable. Most often in my conversations with him, he’d tell me how he felt very blessed and privileged to be ‘saved’ just like certain Bishops and Arch Bishops who had similar backgrounds as his. And most often than not, there was this eternal glow that came from within him and shone in his eyes when he talked about his dream of becoming on of the top Pastors in the country.

Gradually our relationship developed into one of admiration and affection towards each other and since he was not married it felt prudent to start a relationship that will lead to marriage. The initial idea was to practice a no sex before marriage but as ‘body no be firewood’ so we found ourselves shagging left right and center like a maracas in the hands of a charismatic praises leader. At church it was an open secret that Pastor Fred and I were dating and this drew its fair share of admiration and envy but to me this was the life I felt God was preparing me for. Little did I know that there was a huge catch to this when he was exposed hiding behind the veneer that he was something he wasn’t.

It started one Sunday afternoon. I had gone to his place to prepare him lunch and supper as had become the ritual. Half way through preparing the foods I heard a knock on the door. I left everything I was doing, went to open the door only to see an angry looking at the door. When I told her he was not yet back from church after she enquired about his whereabouts, then she half shoved me out of the way as she made her way towards the bedroom. I was confused. Who was this? Was this a family member I did not know? Was this a test to see how humble or rude I was? Ten minutes afterwards Fred came home from church and before I could report to him he speed off to the bedroom. What I saw when I entered the bedroom was indeed more than a shock. Here was Fred on his knees begging the lady for forgiveness and the only response he got were to heavy slaps on both cheeks. When I rushed to defend him, he smacked me on the face and asked that I leave the room. The lady went into the kitchen and dumped all the food I was preparing into the dustbin and walked out. I will later on discover that this was a lady Fred had promised marriage, duped and dumped just two months into our relationship after he verbally assaulted me for coming to his rescue. He called me worthless, stupid, an animal that deserved no mercy and in some instances found a way of even insulting me in his preaching. During mid week service after this incident, told the congregation that the Lord had given him directives that the President of the Youth Ministry, me was to do dry fasting for two weeks in anticipation of a fruitful youth week celebration since as the leader, I needed to be sanctified and holy to lead ‘my people’ during that period.

The straw that broke ‘this camel’s’ back was when he called me an idiot in front of other church members for disagreeing with him on a program line up for the youth ministry of which I was the President. When this was raised at a church leadership meeting he charmed his way out of the truth. In some weird twisted way, the other leaders got sprinkled with fairy dust and it blinded them, and I was deemed as crazy, grabbing for attention, and trying to tear down God’s work.  Certain people who I held in high esteem and confided in them will later on betray me by concocting lies about me to the extent that one Sunday half way through his preaching he stopped and said that the spirit of the lord had directed him to break up with me and also demote me as the president of the youth ministry. According to him there were some ancestral demons that were working through me to bring down the church and that I needed prayers. I was hauled by three strong ushers for the whole church to pray for me when I refused to come forward for prayers when he demanded I do so. After this, I consulted a lawyer friend of mine who agreed to sue Pastor Fred and the church for abuse on my behalf. When the affidavit was served them they went to see my mother to ask me to drop the charges with the promise of reinstating me as a member of the church, president of the youth ministry and fiancée Fred. I found this to be very laughable and told my mother to go tell them that they could offer me the whole world; I would still go ahead to sue them. When the saw that I was not barging, they counter sued me for financial malfeasance and fabricated stories on how I had duped some members of the church. As I write this, the cases are still in court and they do not look like winning anything. Next week I’ll tell you about how everything changed for me.







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Posted by on April 11, 2014 in Fiction


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I want to trap those silver tears

that rolled down your cheeks

And save them in a bottle as a reminder

Of how my heart broke

to hear the fears of the tears

That rolled down the face that always held the smile

Which removed the cloak of doubt from my heart

And held me spellbound in the belly of our desires

I want to undo the cloth of each broken promise

I clothed you with.

Unlace the laces of doubt I tied with my actions and inactions

For I saw the reflection of your pain in each tear I wiped

And silently wish this would not be framed in time
For the reason for those silver tears haunts me down to the soul

But alas, a new day is birthed out of the egg of darkness

I pray the only time I see your tears is when I make you laugh your soul out.


Posted by on May 2, 2013 in Poems


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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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Jesus What Is Your BB Pin?(The Church and Interactive Media)

Last night Jesus came as he promised to and instead of him riding on a horse with angels by his side blowing trumpets for believers to be ruptured, he was rather  texting, tweeting, whatsapping, rapture request sending, BBMing, Skyping from his smart phones but a lot of us missed it because our individual telecommunications network had problems with the network coverage more over ECG took the lights for 48 hours and so some of us were not able to charge our phones and telecommunication devices and so for a second chance “text the correct answer to this question to the short code 2383 on all networks ‘which side of Adam did God remove the rib to create Eve?’ Terms and conditions apply.” This may sound blasphemous but there are days I feel to the average Ghanaian church goer, who insists on being referred to as a Christian this would be ideal situation based on how technologically our worship of God has become and sadly this is how low we have desecrated our faith.

       Growing up, church had always been a community thing for me. It was that one day in the week which afforded me the chance to worship God and still be with family, friends and really be close to people I looked up to spiritually. This kind of environment made it possible for me to have real human relationships and do practical things when it came to serving the Lord. Over the years I have gradually seen this closely knitted human institution where we gathered and could actually feel the spirit of the Lord amongst us disintegrate into something I fear is making us lose the favor of the Lord due to how we use technology in terms of telecommunication and social media. I know a certain school of thoughts will say technology has aided us in taking the word of God to the doorsteps of individuals and in a way I will agree with them but personally I feel we are losing the human element  that comes with congregating to serve the Lord.

These days aside the runway dressing most of the ladies take to church, you find most people holding iPads, iPhones, galaxy tabs, black berries and other smart phones instead of Bibles and immediately the Pastor says ‘can we please turn our Bibles to the book of John’, people start fidgeting with theses gadgets but trust me more than half are checking football updates, facebook or twitter updates, fashion sites, snapping pictures and chatting with others in the same building.

Mind you, the Pastor himself is flipping through his sermon pages on an iPad and this I must confess is the advanced way of serving God. Offertory and tithes will sooner than later be paid via mobile money transfer and either facebook, skype, whatsapp aside other social media platforms will be used for meetings instead of having that human contact since venturing into the physical world is a pain and waste of time. So we choose this a state of cultural obesity brought on by the isolation of self-indulgence. Because most of us choose to live in and are part of this culture, we cannot help but be affected by these things. The options that are offered to us are really too many to process adequately and so in this kind of situation most of us will choose the easiest option, the “path of least resistance” approach.

Contrary to those days when young persons modeled their behavior on those people who were close to them in proximity, such as parents, teachers, pastors, and leaders in the community but now they are confronted with so many virtual role models who know absolutely nothing about them.

I know some people will argue that we have succeeded is in text evangelism and fulfill the part of the scriptures that says go into the world and spread the gospel but the question is how many of these text messages have been more effective that the door to door of community to community evangelism that was done in those days preaching about salvation and giving reverence to God and Christ in all our endeavors?  Most often than not most of these text messages lack the spirit of the understanding of God’s words. I personally envisage that in the next year or two we will start getting random text messages from these prominent churches saying ‘for financial miracle, text FM to short code 1123, for marriage Miracle text MM to short code 1123 and for any other miracle text *name of miracle* to 1123. The Lord is closer to you than you think’.

The interesting thing I have also noticed is churches evaluate themselves by the same standards as those used by the culture of technology. Because technology provides immediate information and feedback, churches have begun to operate on a fad or poll basis. Whatever the latest fad is or whatever the latest trend predicted by the polls happens to be, that is where the church is going. Because our technical driven culture requires efficiency, convenience, and entertainment, then the Church must provide that. Soon, opinion polls on what kind of sermon, who the preacher should be, what kind of song ministrations among others will be thrown out there for congregants to vote on and the majority will carry the day based on the polls’ result.

I may be wrong or right, but in all these, I pray the Lord directs our paths to make decisions that won’t see us departing from his grace and mercies all because we choose to social media interact with him rather than speak to him in the physical and spiritual realm for Christianity to me has never been about convenience or safety. God calls us to leave our comfort zone, interact face-to-face with people, and go out as “sheep among wolves”. We cannot hope to win the approval of the world by adopting the ways of the world and so we need to be vigorous and not stationary in doing God’s work

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Posted by on October 9, 2012 in ARTICLES


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