Esi's Blog

The Days: A Review

Sat, 03 Jun 2023 00:10:09 GMT

Ama Ata Aidoo's The Days , a picture book for children is a delight to read. Illustrated by Albert Buete Puplumpu, the book offers relatable descriptions of days of the week and their unique characters in a fun way.

The theme of differences and similarities resonates clearly. The author employs the use of rhythm, rhyme, repetition and imagery to deploy the story.

In comparison to how days behave, it plays on the characteristics of animals and things to enforce its message while encouraging children in an unsuspecting way to apply their mathematical skills.

The simplicity of style and subject makes it an easy read for young children. At the same time, it holds a certain appeal for adults because of the subliminal meaning portrayed for those who understand the battles fought in daily existence.

This book explores the possibilities in each day, painting a picture of life and its unpredictability in general. It assures the young that differences are normal and in fact to be expected. For adult readers it reinforces our knowledge and understanding of daily life challenges, leaving a sense of balance.

The performance potential it holds is most exciting. Each day's character stares the imagination and evokes an actor in the reader.

The colourful illustrations depict familiar images in ethereal bliss, typically that of the old village wall. The front cover captures the theme beautifully. It shows the different characters of days by seamlessly fusing together colours symbolizing the differences in days. The illustrations are very effective in enhancing the story.

Although "Each day has hours

of ten, ten and four..."

"All the days are not equal" indeed.

Children are sure to be entertained and learn about diversity.

I'm enamored! The Days is far more than a good read. Children, gather round!

Navrongo Calls

Mon, 05 Sep 2022 19:31:42 GMT

Navrongo, the capital town of the Kassena-Nankani district lies south of Paga, the main border crossing between Ghana and Burkina Faso. It sits at the tropical Savannah belt, Upper East of Ghana.

I first made my way there sometime in September 2002 through a friend who couldn’t believe I had lived all 27 years of my life in southern Ghana, never having traveled up north. He insisted I needed the exposure and so he dragged me with him. He said I had not lived If I had not seen the sun rise on the Tono dam.

So, one fine morning at 5:00 am, I jumped into his pick-up truck, and we headed up north where he had made a home away from fanteland.

It was the longest road trip I had ever embarked on at the time, 15 hours on the road to be precise. Takeaway the breaks we took at Kumasi, Kintapo and Tamale. I barely noticed the hours pass as we chatted all the way with the company of Fela Kuti and Bob Marley playing in the background on repeat. To this day, the ride to Navrongo remains one of the fondest memories I have of traveling Ghana for work or leisure.

This part of the country is home to two ethnic groups, the Kassims and the Nakanas. Historically, it is said that these two ethnic groups have had relative independence because the Ashantis didn't invade them. However certain treaties established by the British in 1898 an Anglo-French convention came up with an agreement to divide the lands. The Kassims and Nankanas were subsequently separated from their relatives who today live across the border, Burkina Faso.

Older indigens of Navrongo know it as Navoro, which means (to put your foot down on soft ground).

Today, the town is indeed soft ground to live and explore what new opportunities it has to offer, including access to tertiary education locally. The siting of Tedam University of Technology and Applied Sciences campus to the township has brought much warmth to the once laid back and very quiet town. Yet, it still remains relatively calm in comparison to Bolgatanga which is 30 kilometers away by road, about 40 minutes’ drive. It is an important market town in the area. The people are mainly subsistence farmers and rearers of cattle and goat.

Navrongo is known for its famous mud-built cathedral and grotto, Our Lady of Seven Sorrows. Although it doesn't haven many formally designated places of tourist attraction, it is by its character a great attraction. The warmth of the people, the native architecture, fabrics, the market, the guinea fowl joints, the easy connection between humans and cattle in full glare, make up a total unique culture for experiencing.

Marked places of interests in addition to the mud-built cathedral are the Tono dam, which is one of the largest agricultural dams in West Africa, also the first ever solar plantation and the health research centre.

It is awesome to watch the sun rise ever so gracefully on the Tono dam.The rising of the sun is said to symbolise the journey of the sun in the sky. At about 5:00 am one morning my host and I set off on a drive to see the famous sunrise on Tono dam.

The joy of watching the sunrise on the dam is next to none, with nature at its best early morning.

The sun’s golden rays added a burnt orange colour to the smoky clouds. A small ball of light emerged from the sky at first. It then slowly starts to get bigger and illuminate.

As if on cue birds began to chirp in glorification of the glow of the orange goddess. Its beauty is beyond description, I cannot do it justice.

Suddenly, out of the blue it bursts out into a gleaming ball expanding at a moment's look. The first rays are gentle and soft on the eyes.

It is a rare joy, eternally etched in memory. I have seen many a sunrise over the years but this one was magnificent, just as my host promised. It was worth every bit of the journey.

One thing I found most fascinating is the hand production of ethnic fabrics by the women of Navorongo. They grow and eat their own food. They make their own beer(pito), their own beauty products from largely local materials. They build their homes with their bare hands also with local materials. They made ordinary what appeared phenomenal to me.

There are some fairly decent guest houses and lodges to stay in, especially for low budget travelers. Moving around is not difficult, there are taxies and motor cars available for hire as well as collective rides.

For a fun night, there are lots of drinking spots and bars to hang out and dig into some well spiced charcoal grilled guinea fowl or beef kebabs. You may sample grilled guinea fowl in as many grilling spots as you like. That is a sport in itself.

I've had several opportunities to return to Navrongo after my first visit. With each visit the land and it’s people grow on me. Memories of Navrongo call. Nearly two decades after my first trip there, my heart still misses a beat at the mention of her name.

Could it also be that the face of that handsome Kassim man still smiles on me?

I Know of a Magician

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Sun, 28 Aug 2022 13:45:22 GMT

I know of a magician called Professor De-Ago. I first heard of him at about age eleven. There was talk at school of a magician who came to perform at Workshop in Burma Camp and did wonders. It was purported he killed a woman and brought her back to life. Who does that?

I needed to confirm the viability of this information. I went to my go to information centre, my mother. This was when she enlightened me about magic arts and the fact that she knew Professor De-Ago in person. He comes from our hometown, Gomoa Pinanko. Wow! I was excited. My mother told me how my late Auntie Yaa Baawah's father shot Professor De-Ago during one of his performances and the magician disappeared and appeared unscathed. I vividly recall this conversation.

I next heard of Professor De-Ago again in 1988/89 when my family lived in London. He had come to perform, and my father said we may possibly host him at home. It did not happen, much to my disappointment.

In conversation with my father recently, he mentioned casually they had gone to bury De-Ago. I asked which De-Ago , of course it was the Professor De-Ago the magician. Do magicians die?

Sad to hear of his passing, I decided to find out more about it, so I went online to learn of details of his death. There was nothing. Not just of his death but of him and his work.

How come there's next to no documentation on such a man? I needed to know more. So, I got my father to link me to some of his family members and others from Pinanko. I’m in the process of finding out more of this famous magician who disappeared into thin air never to be heard of again until his demise.

In a conversation with his grandson, Mr Collins Kessehen Obeng had this to say,

"He won best West African award in London, according to my grandpa, at the performance in London every magician has to perform on stage and the time given to my grandpa was a scheduled time in London, but he got there hours after his scheduled time, this meant he couldn’t go on stage at the allotted time. The organisers were annoyed so they decided to disqualify him. You know those people work with time; an argument started over his disqualification. My grandpa said to them, please check your time, when they checked, it was the exact time allotted him. He had reversed the time! There was massive applause."

Mr Obeng shares a moral lesson his grandfather taught him.

"Nana taught me not to challenge what I don't understand. He said in one town he went to perform; a fetish priest challenged his magical powers. Nana chopped off his head. He later put it back on, but it was crooked. Nana said, he didn’t achieve perfect results because the oracles were angry. One of the fondest memories I have of him when I was a little boy is whenever we were with him in Accra, anytime we got to Teshie, 1 ^st Junction he would conjure toffees and share them to us. That was awesome!" he said.

Magic art as a stagecraft is no longer a thing in Ghana’s entertainment space, not for many years. In my late 40's I've never had an experience of it except for watching Paul Daniels and David Copperfield on Tv decades ago in the United Kingdom. From the accounts my mother gave of Professor De-Ago , it would have been interesting to have gone to one of his magic shows.

Would you like to see the revival of magic art shows in Ghana?

Click on the link below for more details

https://www.graphic.com.gh/features/features/popular-ghanaian-magician-professor-diego-passes-on.html

Updated 2nd Septermber 2022

Young, Dynamic and Hilarious - Meet Owusu Ojay

Mon, 04 Apr 2022 08:54:07 GMT

Social Media has become the biggest platform where millions of young people are exploring and expressing their creativity in many ways, entertainment is one. It is common today to see young people expressing themselves using video, graphics, photos and what have you. One can find a great deal of comedy videos on social media. There are tons of them.

It is however unusual to find comedy in literary form on social media. There isn't many I can point to. So, it was most refreshing when I chanced on a Facebook friend who makes it a habit of posting humorous narratives, (jokes) much so that it has become his unique brand.

He first caught my attention in 2020 on Facebook. His posts are predominantly in Asante Twi with streaks of English. He achieves a fine mix of Twi "boxed" with English as conventionally done by most Akan speakers. Comments under his posts indicate he has most readers in stitches and consistently so.

At first, I struggled to read his posts because I’m not literate in Akan but my fascination at his insistence to communicate in Twi pushed me to persevere. Like a beginner reader in her formative years, I jerkily read out loud and figured out the context as I went along. Goodness he was funny. Really funny! Even when at times the context of his humour was not so clear to me, he still got me giggling.

I began to follow him. Actually, his jokes pulled me. He is the only friend I have on Facebook who consistently posts in Asante Twi. If that’s not phenomenal enough he also writes comedy using very graphic street narratives. He's been consistent for two years since I discovered him. I have been late in coming though as he has been posting jokes on Facebook since 2014.

His ability to address trending issues in his work with great whack and punches is amazing. I just had to reach out to him.

Jacob Osei Owusu Ansah known as Owusu Ojay on Facebook was born in Asafo, a suburb of Kumasi. His formative years were in Asafo and also at Kotei Deduako. He grew up a "normal" child with the usual perception that all is well.

"Akwadaa biaara swa a ɔyɛ dehyeɛ."

According to Ojay himself, he was a shy, quiet and reserved child who spent most of his time indoors listening to music, watching movies and reading from his father’s collection of books. One wouldn't think so judging by the antics he displays in his works today.

Ojay who has been writing comedy for a as long as he can remember, says talent matures as one experiences life says of interest in comedy "Akyɛ ooo".

His early materials on Facebook Wall were mostly one-liners. He says he loves jokes and jokes love him. Today, he has a lot of life experiences with so much inspiration that humour simply ebbs out of his veins effortlessly. The evidence is on his Facebook Wall.

Although he hasn't formally studied comedy, he knows it well and he lives to write jokes. Ojay doesn't know how jokes became part of him. He's been gifted.

"I didn’t choose comedy, comedy chose me. I didn't try to be funny, I am funny and I have learnt that I can make something out of it. I can't explain. It's divine."

His works to me are such a success that I asked if he has failed at something else.

"This question deɛɛ, me aa I haven't failed menso aa I haven't achieved anything biaaa saaa. Me da mu saaaa but nyame ne hene."

As to whether Ojay has not achieved anything with his works is up for debate. In my view, to up and write comedy using his mother tongue to a supposedly “middle class" audience on social media where English is the main language of communication is a feat worth noting.

What separates his style of humour from others? His jokes come with a mix of acid and tomfoolery bothering on slapstick were they to be enacted.

In his view, his audience relate easily to his jokes in Twi. He points this out as a comfort as it’s also easier for him to express himself in Twi. He explains, tasking people to look up words of punch lines when a joke is told in English is unimaginable. Typical of Ojay, he quips

"Wo deɛ imagine sɛ a word like poignant is part of the punchline of my joke, before sɛ obi bɛ sere no agye sɛ w'afa dictionary."

He also believes it is important to promote the use of our local languages whenever there's an opportunity because " the moment you lose your language you lose your culture and your history."

To him we cannot lose ourselves and should strive not to.

His view is that "The world is a canvas" and asks for people to use it as such and "be creative."

Ojay enjoys making people laugh. To keep going he tells himself " Don't stop writing. Just keep on writing and the ideas will come naturally."

On what character flaw he possesses, he says "One negative thing I have gotten to know about myself is, I don't like making calls and I don't like picking calls. Ɛtɔ da bi aa me nya call aa na me yɛm ahye me. I prefer texting to calling. So my friends always say I don't like calling them. I'm trying to take care of it."

Two things keep him up. "Where I want to be and what I want to be, these two things keep me awake at night. Daeɛ bɔne nso ka ho." Bad dreams also keep him up, he jokes.

If he were to relate himself to an animal, what would it be? "A bird because it's free. I feel like a bird when I'm doing what I'm good at.”

Highlife is staple music for him, Daddy Lumba's "(Harry) Mensei da" is his favourite highlife song. He sees himself in the third verse. "It talks about life. To always keep a clean heart and keep doing what you are good at. The third verse is my favourite part. He talks about how he prayed to God about his talent when he was a kid when the world neglected him. And now look at him, he is now a household name." When he is alone, Ojay thinks about how to improve his life, "I think about how to make the next moment better than the previous one."

He would love to travel to the past if he were to enter into a time machine to boost his confidence.

"I would go back to the past just to feel some moments twice and to tell the little me to be confident."

With regards to how far he sees a career in comedy he states, "I want to be one of the greatest to ever to do it. Like Jordan and basketball". He however asserts that much as he seeks to build a successful career in comedy, working with children takes precedence.

"I hope the role I would be playing as a comedian would allow me to get enough time for the kids. I love teaching so I hope not to have to make a choice between my two loves."

As a man in his youth, he wishes he had inherited from the generation ahead of him the legacy of a Ghana with a better and organized space where all creatives can thrive. His biggest disappointment is the system here.“It has failed us." Regardless, Ojay looks forward to helping to leave a better Ghana for those who come after him, using his art.

Ojay may not consider himself to have achieved anything by his comedy works, yet but I see differently. In a space where most “educated" people strive to exhibit how well they speak and write English and mock those whose use of the English language is not quite up to par; it is heart-warming to see Ojay doing the reverse.

He is showing Ghanaians there’s pride to be had in the use of our local languages. He is displaying that creativity is indeed rooted and he asserts this very well. Not only is it heart-warming but also trailblazing for a young man to dare to break a bias in an environment where if you don't speak English, you may very well be dismissed before you even open your mouth. Thankfully, although gradual, the use of our local languages through traditional media has softened the ground for people like Ojay to build a foundation such as he has. He's got not just me, but many others spellbound and on the floor, reading his Twi jokes. He has considered stand-up comedy and sees a future there but not for the moment.

He is a teacher by day. His comedy, he says merges with his teaching job seamlessly. "Comedy is part of teaching. You can use comedy to educate people." He applies humour as an effective tool for teaching in the classroom, "Sometimes I use jokes to explain some concepts to my pupils. As a teacher "deɛ” you have to be creative."

Ojay is a product of Wesley College and holds a diploma in basic education.

For a man who is single and not even dating here's what he shares in his most recent work on Facebook.

"Chale this Will Smith and Chris Rock issue make I kae some incident bi paaa.

Me ne me girl bi wɔ stadium aa na yɛɛ hwɛ kotoko match bi and my girl got up from her seat to do something.

Me girl no sɔree yɛ aa, one guy bi at the top there no shouted.

He was like, ''maame fa wo to fiaaa no tenase na menhwɛ ball no bi.''

The boys around the guy no were laughing wey my girl too ein face make sad.

I didn’t want to retaliate but I felt some strong urge, so I moved to the guy.

And I made an attempt to slap him but sɛɛ akoa no yɛ TaeKwondo master wɔ Tafo, wo nua sɔɔ me nsa na me gye me ho aa ɛngye.

Ɔhwee m'aniso maa me specs kɔ tɔɔ park no so, referee no na ɛde brɛɛ me wɔ fie.

Two days na me left eye no ɛnhu adeɛ sɛ m'anhyia Dr. Sarfo aa anka m'ani firaa yɛ."

You may find more of his jokes on Facebook - Owusu Ojay.

"Mathematics Unites"

Mon, 14 Mar 2022 23:09:46 GMT

Evans Odei,

Top 10 Global Teacher Prize Finalist-2021

Advocate of STEM

All too soon, the International Mathematics Day celebration has come to an end for the year 2022.

On International Day of Mathematics stakeholders take the opportunity to highlight the relevance of Mathematics and underscore the essential role that Mathematics as a subject plays in breakthroughs in the field of science and technology. On this occasion we explain how Mathematics improves the quality of life for us all, from the trotro mate, the waakye seller, the accountant to the engineers who plan and build our roads and bridges.

This year’s celebration focused on the theme, “Mathematics Unites”. Indeed, Mathematics is a common language we all have and speak, a common subject that lays the foundation of inventions and creativity. It allows us to understand, analyse, interpret and solve problems both in school and in real-life situations.

As teachers of mathematics, let’s continue to make the subject a pleasure for us to teach and fun for our students to learn. Let's try and relate Mathematics to real-life situations, make connections and help students to figure out the big picture. Let's guide them to find out why they are doing this Maths and how it fits with other subjects (Science, Geography, English, Economics, etc).

Let us intentionally support girls to love Mathematics, as by so doing we enrol more girls into STEM-related courses and careers. Math education empowers women and girls and contributes to the achievement of the Sustainable Development.

Maths is fun. Maths is real. Maths is everything we do in life. Let us appreciate the usefulness, power, and beauty of mathematics.

I take the opportunity to remind us of some of the goals of International Day of Mathematics:

"Contribute to capacity building in mathematical and scientific education, with special focus on girls and children from developing countries (SDG4)

Highlight the role of Mathematics in the organization of modern society, including economic, financial, health and transport systems, telecommunications in the quest for human well-being, etc. (SDG3)

Raise awareness of the role of Mathematics in fighting disasters, epidemics, emerging diseases, invasive species (SDG11)

Equip the general public and young people with tools for understanding the planetary challenges and the capacity to respond as knowledgeable citizens.

Increase international networking and collaborations in public awareness of mathematics."

Teaching Mathematics gives me great pleasure. I endeavour to create an environment that enhances the joy of teaching and learning Maths. I relate the subject so well with my students that they not only enjoy but also value what I teach.

I hope International Day of Mathematics 2022 has resuscitated and invigorated the Mathematician in you.

Break the Bias Against Women in Menopause

Tue, 08 Mar 2022 18:07:26 GMT

The theme of International Women's Day (IWD) 2022 #BreakTheBias is particularly significant as well as highly relevant for me because I believe our nation needs the participation of all individuals who can contribute to the workforce especially a country such as ours.

Indeed, there are many discriminations and biases against women that needs to be broken and shattered and I stand against the countless bias’s women face. However, I am highlighting biases against women in menopause as a result of my personal experience and shared stories by my fellow menopausal women.

My personal experience with menopause has revealed to me that although most women have heard of and know what menopause is, there’s still need to raise further awareness on the subject to help break the biases so women in menopause within the work space can continue to actively and comfortably contribute our quota to national development.

In this regard, women need support to be able to achieve their both personal and career goals. Without the support of all stakeholders, including families, friends, colleagues, religious and social organisations and especially women ourselves to each other, it will not be possible to end the many biases that women are hit with daily, everywhere we find ourselves.

Many workplaces are not supportive of women and our special biological makeup, rarely if ever do workplaces address the issue of menopause or take it into account. Unfortunately attempts to find supporting data on issue have proven futile. A point of evidence which perhaps underscores my suspicion that menopausal women are not considered a "special group". This must change.

There's the critical need for workplaces to start conversations about menopause and begin to normalise it as part of everyday working life concerns. The emotional wellbeing and many other common concerns for menopausal women in the workplace ought to be addressed in order to begin to break the bias.

I wholehearted with mind, body and spirit support the breaking of biases on work conditions and wages for women.

Let's break the biases on menopause, the snickering, sarcastic and caustic comments and the flippant dismissals. We must break the biases in the manner in which we are communicated to at this time and in general. We must break biases in the ways women in menopause are perceived.

I join forces with all women nationwide and across the globe to echo the fight for equality in all disciplines.

I call on stakeholders in the area of work, particularly companies and organizations to review and redefine their Corporate Social Responsibility (CSO) programmes and consider collaborating with Women's groups and organisations to educate women on menopause and give us the most needed support as we navigate this challenging stage of their lives.

I have reinforced my commitment to self to do what is within my capacity to assist my fellow women to push through, not just make significant progress in their lives but to succeed broadly in whatever endeavour they undertake.

I implore you to support women in menopause to manage and overcome the trauma in their lives.

We must break the bias in our offices, homes, schools, places of worship and largely in our communities.

#IWD2022

#BreakTheBias

Ghana Teacher Prize Nominations and Applications Open

Sun, 06 Mar 2022 11:34:02 GMT

The National Teaching Council (NTC), organisers of the prestigious Ghana Teacher Prize (GTP) awarded to professional teachers who excel in the basic and secondary education levels has officially opened the bid on the Teacher Portal Ghana (TPG) for 2022 applications and nominations.

GTP was instituted by the government of Ghana in 1994 with the objective to motivate teachers for higher performance and also elevate the teaching profession among others.

The highest award to teachers in Ghana highlights the importance of teachers in national development and the need to recognise and celebrate their efforts.

Over the years GTP has acknowledged the impacts of outstanding teachers not solely on their students but also on communities.

Criteria for selecting the most outstanding teacher considers evidence of teachers who employ innovative and effective instructional practices that are replicable and scalable. Also, teachers ensuring learners receive value-based education that prepares them to be global citizens qualifies as another.

Professional competencies, including assessment of academic potentials and quality of delivery of service in a teacher’s ways of operation in his/her professional area is a requirement in the GTP selection process.

National Planning Committee members comprising of educational agencies, teacher unions and other relevant stakeholders ensure the execution of all GTP activities.

The bid for the Ghana Teacher Prize is opened to all professionally trained teachers who have served a minimum term of five years.

The official date for awarding GTP winners for their selfless service to the nation is 5th October.

Traditionally, the Most Outstanding Teacher award winner takes home a house.

Interested applicants may click on the link below for more details.

https://ntc.gov.gh/2022/02/19/ghana-teacher-prize-2022

Bad Relationships are Killing Us

Mon, 24 Jan 2022 00:02:05 GMT

In the last couple days, I've heard friends and family tell me about this or that challenge in their romantic relationships, marriage and courtship.

People are going through things. I remember my own experience having to share space for almost a year with my former in- law when looking to resettle from being away. Goodness, that was stressful. A story for another day.

It appears the condition which we spend less time paying particular attention to is what is most capable of undoing us, even the strongest amongst us.

After all the effort we put in for success in other areas of our lives, the one thing that can potentially undo it all is being in a bad relationship and remaining in it, hoping it will get better, when there are no positive signs or indicators from either party or both that things will actually get better.

I heard two woe stories recently. People are hurting bad, really bad but can't seem to lift themselves out of bad relationships because of what I suspect is fundamentally pressure from society. There may also be a lack of self-worth and self-will. The first reasonable thing to do when things are going bad in a relationship is not to leave but seek to address whatever challenges there may be.

However, one must know where trying to make things better ends. For example, you cannot change a multiple cheating wife who does next to nothing for you, takes all your money, treats you with venom when you are unable to meet her demands. You cannot change a wife who goes out and comes in smelling of another man. My brother where is your self-worth? You want to commit suicide over this?

There's also that husband who keeps reinfecting you with this and that. My sister if you are not careful the next infection might be HIV if you don't have it already.

That partner making you question your every thought and move, making you feel inadequate is abusing you emotionally. Know that it is not healthy.

I don’t advocate divorce; it is not the best option if things can be helped. I believe we are obligated to give all our commitments our very best shot. However, sometimes leaving is the only option.

I am a two-time divorcee. My first husband left me for the daughter of his prophet upon revelations from the most high.

I left my second husband for leaving me on a highway at 2:00 am. I recognised by his action that he had no value for my life. What other conviction did I need to leave the marriage? Tell me.

I Esi Arhin, a two-time DIVORCEE is also here among the living. I am not dead. I am still here. I am happy and living one day at a time through struggling to get the family going just like most are and ensuring I am in good cheer as much as possible. On very difficult days I remember no matter what happens the day will pass.

My sister, my brother, no relationship should push you to the point of suicide. Eiii. Aden?

Leaving a bad relationship won’t kill you. In so many ways my second marriage was better than my first, that is if one can even compare two very different relationships. But since certain pillars are consistent in all relationships, I dare say I left what was fundamentally not a bad marriage. I had to. My conscience won't let me stay.

I’m here to tell you to please place value on yourself. After you've done, that check if your partner places the same value on you. Note that absolutely no one can place more value on you than yourself. So don't expect it. Expect a match and if that match does not exist, please walk. It is not normal for a grown woman to be flogged by her husband in the presence of her children. It is not. If you ask me, there is no love here. Accept that and walk. Walk away. After two masters and a PHD surely you do not lack analytical ability. Summon courage from the deep recesses of your mind and walk. You will live. I promise you.

How can you sustain success when the fire in you to live life to the fullest is slowly dying?

Getting a divorce or letting that toxic relationship go may be the greatest gift you can ever give yourself.

After two failed marriages I have been blessed with a very loving relationship. Ma da koraa, I am fast dozing (in vigilance of course). If I see and feel "nyaa" I am leaving this one too. He knows it.

Would you keep investing good money into a bad venture after several failed ventures because you don't want to be seen as a bad businessman or woman? This is where I am at.

By all reasonable means let's endeavour to make our relationships work but know when the glass is shuttered and cannot be pieced together. Know.

Many of us continue to remain in harrowing relationships because we are afraid of being judged.

Bad relationships affect us negatively. A bad relationship creates stress and problems that impacts on our well-being.

Researchers say bad relationships significantly increase our risk of developing heart problems. They note that stress and detrimental relationships directly affect the cardiovascular system.

We let ourselves die a slow death every day by remaining in toxic relationships. What a great disservice to the self and our maker.

Divorce is not a crime. Neither is leaving a relationship for whatever reason. It is not the yardstick for the total sum of who you are. There's so much more to us.

God, if you believe there's a God who places high value on our heads, then know that we are priceless. I believe the intent is for us to thrive and flourish, live in joy and enjoy his endless grace. All S(HE) asks.

First published on Facebook January 22nd, 2022

Koo Lupe: The Story of a Christmas Goat

Thu, 30 Dec 2021 15:26:59 GMT

I was deep into sleep when I heard voices at the entrance of our pen. I stirred, stretched and was about to drift off again when,

“I want that one, the big one with the orange brown fur." a strange voice said.

"That one comes with a different price." I knew without any doubt whose voice that was.

At this point, I was no longer stirring. I had become alert, ears wide open but pretending to be asleep.

Good heavens! It is that time of the year again. The village kids have been weeding their usual spot and preparing to put up their (bronya Apata) Christmas huts. Although I have not said anything to my younger siblings and cousins, I've been nervous watching them prepare.

“How much?” the stranger asked.

“One hundred cedis.” replied Egya Ofori pronounced Gyafori.

“I will take it” the strange voice came back.

Good heavens now fully woke and highly alert, it dawned on me that the big orange brown one is me. The two men are in negotiations over my sale. My heart started to beat fast, really fast, then suddenly it sunk right into my stomach. Unwillingly I began to bleat. Tears began to form in my eyes. Oh no, not again! These humans, why can't they just leave us alone? Why?

I opened my eyes then, the strange man had reached out an arm to my owner, in his hands was a wad of cash for my head. I have been sold. I knew it. As soon as the thought hit me, I stood up. Mother and the others seemed oblivious to what was going on.

I braced myself and began to hatch a plan. I knew what would be coming next. Gyafori would take the money and say

“Wait, I'm coming.” and leave.

He would go up the top of the corn dryer and get a nylon rope of three strands, create a wide-open ring around one end and make a cross over pull for tightening. He would come into the pen and throw the ring side of the rope on to the neck of the sold goat and pull it tight. He would then drag the protesting goat out of the pen and hand over the reins of the rope to the buyer. I've seen it happen so many times, as far as I've been old enough to understand. I am not going to stand here meekly for him to do that to me. I wanted to jump the pen but it is high and because of my weight I am not agile enough on my feet to suspend for long in the air. Gravity will pull me down. So, I made a quick decision, my best bet was to remain alert. As soon as the pen gate was opened, I will escape. It was the only way. Once the rope fall around my neck and is tightened, I would have no chance of getting away. Heart pounding, I dug my heels and waited.

Truly truly it happened just as I know it. As soon as I saw Gyafori returning I was ready to run. Just about two meters walk or so before he reached the pen gate and swang it open, I screeched. I did not lose a second. I sped out. I don't think Gyafori saw it coming. I run as far as the pathway to the cassava farm before I stopped to think. I had to hide or leave the village but where?

I come from the small village of Binkyeem (obi nkyɛn mu), 25 minutes’ drive from Duayaw Nlwanta in the Ahafo region. My village has a human population of less than fifty inhabitants. My owner and other families live in mud huts thatched with straw (Atta Kwame kind of architecture) if you are familiar with that kind of superior architecture. Binkyeem has no access to electricity or potable water. It has no social amenities either. Despite this, it is green and beautiful. The air is fresh, and the community is tight knit. Everyone knows everybody and their roots. My family and I belong to the Oforis, the richest family in the community. Gyafori owns my family of 11 goats. Although my mother does not call my siblings and I by names, however, the young Oforis call us by names. They call me Koo. Till date I do not know why. According to my mother we are 10th generation in line to my "goancesters". We are the largest family of the goat population in Binkyeem. At the count on my huff tips, we the goats of Binkyeem number about 19.

We would have been about twenty-six goats in total but two fell ill and died, while five were sold Last Christmas. Gyafori feeds us well during the year then towards Bronya, depending on the market, he sells some of us off. That is how come I've been up here on the roof top of this van under scorching sun for the last seven hours or so from Binkyeem with no water or food. I've been up the roof of this car since morning. I feel weak and exhausted. The stranger has not looked my way since he tied me up here in the morning. I have been in and out of sleep throughout the journey, mainly out of parched throat and hunger but also to avoid feeling more miserable than I already am. My mind keeps going back to the trauma of being caught after I had successfully escaped.

I'm up here because after I got away, I couldn't decide quickly enough on my next move. So of course, the entire village came out on a search for me after word got round I had broken bounds. Yes, they caught me, but I sure gave them a good chase. I did my best. I hid under a thicket for a good hour before that wretched little boy saw me. You see, I did not want to leave a bad reputation for the family to contend with. That I run away is cowardly but worse my family may have been locked in the pen for who knows how long and not be allowed out to move freely. I did not want to be the reason for their suffering.

When Kwame Nti found me hidden in the thicket and blew the alarm, I instinctively bolted without thinking. I run around, up and down the village for more than an hour as the villagers chased after me. At least if I was being sent away, the least I could do was to give the boys something to talk about. One of them took a heavy fall during the chase and from what I gathered got more than a scraped knee. " Haa haa haaa" that ought to teach him. Frankly a goat my size can't run around too long. I short of breath easily; besides I couldn't run forever. I run out of places to run to. Still, they caught me because I let them. I knew the attention I had taken had prevented my family from being let out. I knew they must have been as hungry as I was. So, I simply stopped running and laid down for them to take me. They called me names afterwards, rascal for example, but I didn't care. Two strong boys carried me by my legs and sent me to Gyafori. He immediately got the blue rope, put it around my neck and tightened. He must have been annoyed with me because he pulled it a bit too tight. Perhaps to punish me for being rebellious.

He handed me over to the stranger who had obviously been waiting to take me away. The stranger took the rope from Gyafori. He looked down and smiled at me. I looked away, disgusted. He walked me out of the village on the narrow path that led to the wide road with no weeds which the big trucks drive on. On the side of which, facing in the direction out of the village was parked a rickety minivan. Another stranger who was sitting in the front seat came out to help get me tied up to the carrier on the roof. That is how the journey out of my home began. The early morning event had been too much for me, so I laid down. I began to fall off as the cool breeze of the fast-traveling wind from the movement of the van hit my eyes. I must have slept for a long time.

I first woke to the sound of Accra cra cra craaa!! I opened my eyes, took a long stretch, whimpered and stood up. The first sights that met me had my head reeling for minutes. There were an uncountable number of people, so many milling around in different directions. The buildings were different from what I am used to. Tall, short, wide, different shapes and colours too. The cars were just as many, uncountable. They were moving right on the tail of each other on black roads not brown. There was smoke in the air instead of dust. The air stunk of burnt rubber tyres, very much unlike that of Binkyeem's. The sight and sounds were out of this world, at least the world I knew. I had never heard so much noise in my life. There were thousands of different sounds thrown together and playing out all at the same time. My ears began to ring. How do these humans cope with such? Suddenly, I missed the peace and serenity of Binkyeem, my eyes welled up and I began to bleat and kick uncontrollably. This must have annoyed the stranger greatly because he stuck his head out the window and shouted at me to quiet down! I did not mind him. I kept bawling and pounced up and down the roof as far as the rope allowed for a good long while. Then I heard several other human voices protesting at the racquet I was causing, obviously irritated by it. I ignored their rants and kept kicking even more loudly as I hauled myself into the air. Of course, I couldn't get anywhere as any hard attempts would have been suicidal. The rope on my neck could very well strangle me. I went on for a bit while then stopped as suddenly as I began. Hunger, it just hit me. I was hungry, very hungry. My stomach cramped. Nothing had gotten into it since I woke, except the few laps of water I took at the pond just after my escape.

Heart pumping hard from exhaustion I laid down and shut my eyes tightly. I wanted to imagine the nightmare away. So I went in and out of sleep as we travelled hundreds of kilometres through many towns and cities away from Binkyeem.

I presume our destination was Accra as a particular voice yelled out repeatedly whenever someone got off the van. People got on and off the van the whole time we travelled, very strange behaviour. That was pretty much the way things rolled until we arrived at the place, I presumed to be Accra.

I figured it must be Accra because everyone got off the van and the voice stopped calling out A'cra cra craaa! The driver, that is the stranger who bought me parked the van in a big yard full of big busses and mini vans just like the one I travelled on.

It was sundown. I was hoping I would be untied and let down after everyone got off, but it wasn't to be. My new owner went away from the van for some time and returned with a woman carrying a tray full of foodstuffs on her head. He took the load and put it in the van before driving us out of the yard. By now the hunger pangs have totally disappeared. I was no longer hungry, just tired and missing home.

Not long after we left the yard full of cars my new owner stopped in front of the biggest house I've ever seen and honked loudly. A man came to open the wide gate and my new owner drove through all the way to the end of the driveway. He called out for the gateman to come help him take me down. I allowed them to untie and carry me down without a fuss.

The gateman pulled in a direction I did not want to go. I wanted to bolt but where to? Besides I was tired so bleated in mild protest as he led me to a spot opposite a small backyard garden. It was obvious the place had been specially prepared for me. There was a plate of food, fresh cassava peel sitting on the ground with a bowl of the clearest water I've ever seen. Water so clear I could see my face in it. The water from the pond in Binkyeem is not as clear as this one. It is usually brown and muddy. The gateman tied me to a metal pole close by my dinner. Then called out, " the goat is here boys!"

I settled down and helped myself to many laps of water. Before I could finish drinking water three kids rushed out of a door at the house, I had not taken note of earlier on.

Aponkye goat! One yelled, came close and stamped her feet in front of me in an attempt to scare me. It worked. I was startled. Another one reached out and pulled my horns.

“Hey, let's name her Lupe. I think she looks like Lupe in Ferdinand the movie.” he told the others.

I was annoyed. I'm not a she. I bleated. He took no notice.

The third squat in front of me. Eyeball to eyeball he looked at me and said in a soft voice.

“Hello Mr Christmas goat, you are welcome to Glory Villa.” he smiled at me and passed his hands down my back. Although brief, it felt good. The boys played around me for a while. referring to me as Lupe. I wanted to tell them I've always been known as Koo and I have been fine with it. But of course, I couldn't. So Lupe I had become.

Night fell. The kids left me to go inside. I had managed to take a few bites of my dinner while they circled around me. I missed home. This is the very first time my entire life I'm alone. I felt lonely. The cool hamattan breeze did not help either. I laid down and thought of home.

I don't recall falling off. I must have slept deeply as a result of exhaustion from yesterday's long journey to Accra. It's daybreak, the gateman just woke me. I felt the rope being untied from the pole. I knew it was time. I did not protest. I calmly allowed him to lead me into the garden. From what I see around him I have no doubt he is also the butcher. He had already prepared a place for me. I see a small hole about a metre from where I stood, freshly dug. I know I'm the reason for that hole. Next to it was a gleaming sharp knife.

He tied my four legs, two together and laid me on my side. I closed my eyes and thought of Binkyeem. I thought of mum, my cousins and my human playmates, the little boys in the village. Surprisingly. I felt glad.

I've always known it was for this very reason I was born, to be someone's dinner. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. It was as blue and clear as that of Binkyeem. It calmed me. Feeling peaceful, I closed my eyes again and waited for the butcher to do his job. Here I am, about to fulfill my purpose of being a Christmas goat.

Santa Fufu

Sat, 25 Dec 2021 11:03:42 GMT

Christmas is season to give, a season to love, a season for families to get together and laugh aloud, mine is no different.

In Ghana, parents buy all Christmas items at the end of November or before Christmas because mum says items such as chicken, rice, soft drinks, toys and all Christmas goodies get expensive during this time.

From the 20th to the 22nd of December we clean, paint and decorate our house. On the 24th of December, mum slaughters a fat hen and prepares delicious chicken light soup with other kinds of foods.

We bake cakes, pies, rock buns, sausage rolls and jam rolls

Christmas preparation is loads of work and I mean loads and loads of work but at the end it is all worth it.

After all the cooking and baking is done, we sit down with my grandmother and listen to her tell funny stories. We sing Christmas songs of all kinds.

Christmas is a season and Jesus is the reason. So, on Christmas day the 25th of December, my family and I go to church to pray and thank God for bringing his son to the world to save us from our sins. We sing ‘Ye ma mu afehyia pa oo’, dance, shake hands and greet one another. It is such a joyous occasion. This year because of Covid-19, I don't think we will be shaking hands or hugging each other because we are practicing social distancing.

When we return home after Christmas church service, the men would pound fufu. The fufu they pound is big, very very big. It is so big I call it Santa Fufu. We all eat the Santa fufu with the Chicken light soup prepared by mum the day before.

Try some of our Santa fufu with chicken light soup, it is the best thing you would have ever tasted!

In the evening, we eat jollof and grilled chicken with soft drinks and pastries.

On Boxing Day, 26th December, we go to a cinema or a restaurant to relax.

The celebration continues all through to the New year. I love Christmas!

Hello Hello Santa!

Sat, 25 Dec 2021 11:00:55 GMT

Joy Abayie Okyere

Accra, Ghana

December 2020

Santa Claus

Northpole

Hello, hello Santa!

I know very well life is bubbling in you even though it is snowing where you are and suppose to chill you but not the Santa I know. Ho, ho, ho! Anyway, how are the elfs of Northpole, are they giving you help as usual? How is Mrs. Claus doing?

Unlike my other letters to you, this time I want to occupy your mind on how some Ghanaians usually celebrate Christmas in Ghana. Mind you, Christmas in Ghana is not just 25th day of December, it can take some people eight days to celebrate Christmas in my country.

It will interest you to know that Christmas begins on 24th night and ends on 31st December. However, because you are busy packing your gifts, I will just talk about three out of the eight days.

Everybody's Santa, in Ghana, 24th December is not a holiday, yet some offices don't operate, others do half day. Many people shop, they call it last day Christmas shopping. Many people travel to near and far places expecting to spend Christmas with their families, friends and loved ones.

Last year my parents took my brother and I out to observe from a distance night events in Accra on December 24th. The city was lit up with decorations of all sorts. There were lots of social gatherings with music and dance. My parents told me the scenes were not just happening in Accra but in other parts of the country as well.

Mum told me those celebrating on the eve of Christmas, believe they must do so to welcome Jesus Christ on 25th December.

On this same night, some Christian churches and corporate organizations hold carol services. They read scriptures that narrate the birth of Jesus Christ.

On 25th December, some Christian families spend their morning at church where you find, a display of Christmas dresses, shoes necklaces, watches and many other Christmas fashion items.

Some of the fashion items are quite hilarious. Funniest of them all to me are the cartoon- like kind of spectacles we the children wear.

Almost every child puts on their best outfits. We do so for many reasons. Could be because we wrote our end of term exams and passed or we got sick during the year and recovered. We may have encountrered problems that couldn't tear us down so we wear our best outfits to appreciate God.

Family members and friends come together, cook, eat, make up over misunderstandings and also plan for the future of the family.

In Ghana, boxing day is more about cooking and sharing with friends. All kinds of meals are cooked and served. Families and friends visit each other's homes to eat and exchange baskets filled with a variety of Christmas food and drinks.

Santa, there’s much to share but I will end here and come back to you next year. My parents say, our family will be spending this year's Christmas with our extended family in the village.

I am pretty sure I will gather a new Christmas experience. I promise to let you in on it come next year.

Until then I will be expecting my Christmas box, please remember to write my name on it and brother's name on another. I don’t want any confusion.

If you reply, please be kind and enclose Mrs. Claus photo. I'm curious to see how she looks like. Merry Christmas in advance!

Yours truly,

Lady Joy.

Jingle Bells

Sat, 25 Dec 2021 11:00:49 GMT

Jingle bells, Jingle bells everyone going up and down to find a perfect gift for his or her loved one. Maame Yaa and her mother were returning from shopping. They were so excited about the celebration of Christmas.

“Mom where should we spend our Christmas holidays this year?" Maame asked

“We will go to Golden Hotel it is a very nice place at Achimota in Accra so get ready we leave this afternoon.” Maame’s mother told her.

“Cape-Coast to Accra?" asked Maame

“Oh yes. Do not worry. It will be fun.” Maame’s Mother told her.

At 1:30pm Maame Yaa and her mother started packing their things.

“Yaa do not forget your swimming costume.” reminded Maame’s mother.

At exactly 3:00 pm Maame Yaa and her mother took a taxi to the bus station.

“Wow look at these big buses!” Maame exclaimed.

“Yes, they are very big. They are of different colours too. Said Maame’s mother. They went to the ticket stand, paid and got two tickets. They boarded the V.I.P. bus to Accra. It took four whole hours before they reached their destination.

They took a taxi straight to the Golden Hotel.

“Mummy, this is a big place.” Maame observed.

“Yes, it is. Hurry, your Aunty is waiting for us inside.” said Maame’s mother excitedly.

“You never told me that I had an Aunty in Accra.” replied Maame.

When they went inside, they were amazed. Everything looked nice and posh.

“Mummy where is my aunty?" Maame asked anxiously.

“She is over there at the reception.” responded her mother.

The name of Maame Yaa’s Aunt is Georgina, but most call her Jojo affectionately. When Aunty Jojo saw them, she was very excited.

“Sister! I am so happy to see you, oh, you must be my niece Maame Yaa. I am your Aunty Jojo." She introduced herself with a hug.

Aunty Jojo gave Maame and her mother their room key and number. The number of their room was 201.

“Aunty Jojo is very kind.” Maame said to her mom.

“That’s how she been since she was a child”. Maame’s mother told her.

The room was very beautiful. It had twin beds, a sitting area, a television, a toilet and bath. Maame Yaa was impressed but she couldn’t quite tell the colour of the room.

“Wow! this is a very lovely room mummy.

” Yes, a good choice and a lovely one too." agreed Maame’s mother.

They unpacked their bags, washed and settled down at the sitting area to watching Tv. But after a few minutes Maame and her mother decided to go to the mall for a stroll as they had sat on the bus for so long.

Achimota mall was not far from the Golden hotel, so they walked, hand in hand. At the mall a Christmas Carol was playing, and everyone could hear it. There were Christmas decorations with pretty multi-coloured lights all over. The mall had a theatre, food court, hair saloon, lots of shops and supermarkets. They entered one of the supermarkets first.

“Mummy why don’t we go to where the fruits are?" Maame suggested.

“Yes, healthy food first." said Maame’s mother.

On the fruit shelves were apples, watermelons pineapples, oranges, mangoes, grapes and many other kinds.

As they were looking to decide which fruit to buy Maame Yaa saw a girl mopping the floor crying.

Maame felt sad so she walked to the crying girl and asked

“Please what's your name? Why are you crying my friend?"

“My name is Daniella and I need help” the crying girl replied.

“What do you mean by that?" Maame asked.

“My mother is a drunkard. She has given me to a man who works in the mall in exchange for dresses and money” Daniella explained.

Daniella’s mother who is an alcoholic with health issues makes Daniella work very hard and beats her up when Daniella is too tired to work anymore.

The man Daniella works for maltreats her too. He promised to take Daniella to a preparatory school, but he has not. Instead, he makes her come to work at the mall cleaning around.

After Maame Yaa talked with Daniella for some minutes she realized that she has left her mother behind so looked to find her.

“Where did you go?" Maame’s mother asked.

“I saw a girl crying. It made me sad, so I went to ask her why." Maame told her mother.

“Let’s forget about that." said Maame’s mother.

But Mamme Yaa was very worried. She could not put the girl out of her mind. After the shopping was done, they walked back to the Golden hotel.

When they settled down, Maame asked her mother, “Mummy is it good to be a drunkard?"

“No, it is not. It is very bad. why do you ask?" Maame’s mother asked back.

“The girl I met at the mall crying told me her mother is a drunkard and has given her to a man who works at the mall in exchange for dresses and money." Maame told her mom.

“What? Did she tell you her name?" asked Maame’s mother.

“Yes, she did. Her name is Daniella." Maame replied.

Maame Yaa’s mother also got so worried.

“Can we help her?" Maame pleaded with her mother.

“Yes, we can." Said Maame’s mother.

Just then, they heard a knock on the door,

“Mummy, should I open the door?" Maame asked.

“No. Wait and let me open it myself.” Maame’s mother responded.

When Maame Yaa's mother open the door, it was Aunty Jojo.

“Jojo come inside.” welcomed Maame’s mother.

“Sister, how are you?" Aunty Jojo wanted to know.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on duty? Maame’s mother asked.

“I took a break, so I decided to come check on you.” said Aunty Jojo.

Aunty Jojo noticed Maame Yaa, and her mother were not cheerful.

“Sister what’s wrong?” Aunty Jojo asked, very concerned.

“We want to help a girl who works at the mall.” Maame’s mother told her.

“Do you mean Daniella? She is a very good girl, but her father is very wicked. He does not take care of her.” said Auntie Jojo.

“How did you know Aunty?” Maame Yaa asked in surprise.

“Everybody who works here at the Hotel knows her.” said Aunty Jojo.

“She told me she needs help." Said Maame.

“What do you mean?" Aunty Jojo asked.

Maame Yaa and her mother told Aunty Jojo the whole story of Daniella.

“We must help her.” Aunty Jojo agreed.

"But how?" Maame asked.

"Let's go to bed. We shall think of how in the morning." Aunty Jojo said and bid Maame Yaa and her mother good night.

"Good night, Sister, good night Maame. "

When Maame Yaa went to lie down in bed, she could not sleep right away so she prayed for God to help them help Daniella. After praying she closed her eyes and slept.

Aunty Jojo came up to see Maame and her mother after breakfast the next morning, so they find a way to help Daniella.

“First we report to the police.” Maame’s Mother suggested

So Maame Yaa's mother and Aunty Jojo went to the nearby police station to make a report. Maame waited in their room at the Goden hotel and said another prayer.

Her Aunty Jojo went to look for the man who has been taking care of Daniella. Luckily for them they were able to find Daniella’s mother.

“Are you Daniella’s Mother? " Maame’s mother asked.

“Yes” said Daniella’s mother.

Maame’s mother and Daniella’s Mother had a conversation. Maame's mother adviced Daniella’s mother not to drink alcohol again. Daniella's mother agreed to get help so she can stop drinking.

The police arrested the man who maltreats Daniella, and she was given back to her mother.

Finally, Daniella was freed from child labour.

"Back at the Golden hotel” Daniella said,

"Thank you Maame Yaa." “Do not worry” Maame Yaa replied with a big smile.

Later Maame’s mother booked a room for Daniella and her mother to spend their Christmas holidays. After spending their holidays, Daniella’s mother went on treatment so that she will stop drinking.

The relationship between Daniella and Mamme Yaa grew stronger, so did that of their mothers.

Just as Santa Claus jumps down to every chimney to give a child a gift or grant their wishes or desires. That’s the same way every child should be treated. We shouldn’t discriminate on any child due to their colours, disability, age or ethnicity.

At Christmas time, Maame Yaa showed her love to Daniella so she will be free from child labour and now she is living her life like every child must live.

Let’s celebrate this Christmas with love and let all children persevere. Jingle bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle! Jingle! jingle!

A Selfless Christmas

Sun, 12 Dec 2021 14:45:54 GMT

Kwadjo is fifteen years old. He has spent Christmas fourteen times excluding this year's. Over the past years, Christmas has been about gifts, travelling and parties. However, due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the mood of Christmas 2020 has been different. Most people are concerned about their health, so they are staying safe by moving around less but others are being careless.

As a younger child, Kwadjo always counted each day in December starting from the 1st looking forward to the 25th. All because of the gifts, travel and parties that came along with it. This year has been so different, the usual way of spending Christmas would have been a risk to the health of the public due to the outbreak of the very dangerous Covid-19. A simpler Christmas is what they called it. Kwadjo's mom always asked him three days before Christmas for things he wanted. He loved this question so much that even though he was born in March, he loved December more. The items Kwadjo would list would make his mom laugh and say, ‘’ My son, what you need is half a section of what’s in the mall”. This had been the normal banter between Kwadjo and his mother for years. In spite of Covid-19 hanging over Christmas festivities, the 25 ^th of December 2020 had been extraordinary for him, his family and some others.

For Christmas 2020, they planned on travelling around the country to see different tourist sites. Kwadjo has always been a proud Ghanaian and insisted on visiting tourist sites mostly in his country. However, on Christmas Morning of 2020, he woke up with that dream being shattered because of the pandemic.

"Dear God, please have Santa bring for us all, the gift of healing." he prayed.

After praying, as he was about to race downstairs to catch a glimpse of his Christmas presents, whether nineteen or twenty gifts, a thought hit his mind.

"Christmas has always been about me and the presents I receive. Christmas in general is all about happiness, yes." he agreed with himself.

"But should Christmas be about only my happiness? No." he answered himself.

Realising he was conversing with himself, his thoughts continued.

" Christmas shouldn’t be self-centred. It’s about love, compassion, care and giving . Care and compassion don't need to be expressed only at Christmas. It needs to be shown every day, just highlighted at Christmas", he thought to himself.

“Kwadjo!" I heard my father call out. "Won’t you come and see what we got for you this year? Kwadjo, I got the Rolex watch you wanted with a few other gadgets."

"Dad!” I called back.

"Yes son, what is it?" Dad asked

Next to him, I asked back "How much is the Rolex watch? "

"It's only a few hundred cedis." Dad responded.

Not wanting to blow my mind, I asked again.

"How much food could have been bought with that money?"

"A lot." Dad replied.

"Dad, I want this year’s Christmas to be the real Christmas."

Not really knowing what that meant and where it came from, but I felt a spark in me that urged me to push forward.

"I want us to present the kids on the street who are less privileged with food and gifts. "

"My son do you know how many street kids are out there?" Dad laughed and asked.

I shot back, ‘’Do you know how many kids wrote to Santa?’’

He replied, "Santa is not real.”

Exactly!" I said. "Santa is not real but you are. You can make a little effort and it will make a great difference! Stories over the past years have been centred on how Santa shared gifts, well, this year, I’m Ghana’s new Santa!" Knowing how dumb I sounded.

Kwadjo's father bought into the idea. He and his parents went out and ordered for a lot of food, drinks, gifts and other fun party items for children. They set off to a less privileged neighbourhood not far from theirs to share them. Before they began sharing, Kwadjo caught the eye of a girl who had no shoes on and asked her how she spent her Christmas each year.

She responded “To me, Christmas doesn’t exist, I have to beg people each and every day in order to get some food to eat. I sleep at the same spot whether rain or shine, Christmas day is really no different."

This made Kwadjo sad. He thought, “It is a fact that I won’t be able to put a smile on every child’s face but at least the smiles we manage to get I pray will encourage others who are better off to also do something to bring a bit of joy to others."

Not too long after Kwadjo and his family began to share the food and items, a huge van came to park nearby. It was a food delivery van from a popular restaurant. They had seen what Kwadjo and his family were doing and decided to come and share as well. When they opened their van, the aroma of jollof rice and fried chicken was up in the air, taking over the nostrils of everyone in the area. Immediately the children started to jump up and down, some running around shouting "Bronya aba oooo! Bronya aba doo ooo! "Christmas is here! Christmas is finally here!.

Kwadjo found the children's excitement both joyful and sad. He smiled and looked on as some rushed from the queue he was serving with his gift packs in the direction of the restaurant van. The smell of jollof and fried chicken was so good Kwadjo wanted to go for some as well, but he knew he must focus on his mission.

Within a space of two hours, lots of vans, mini trucks and saloon cars had come around with loads of stuff. An event organiser came with tent builders to put up several tents to shield people from the scorching sun.

Kwadjo and his family as well as those others who cared, shared not just food, drinks, toys, face masks and hand sanitisers but also love. Because of Kwadjo’s thoughtfulness, generosity and selflessness, many children and even some adults had their very first great Christmas!

From then on, they began to look forward to the happiness and love that comes along with the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. God gave his son as a gift to the world. Kwadjo understood that Christmas is all about giving and spreading love to everyone, whether you know them or not.

Someday, I hope to know why

Mon, 15 Nov 2021 21:27:33 GMT

When Ex-President Jerry John Rawlings (JJ) passed, I felt the impact of stories left untold. How answers to certain questions may forever be unknown. I have lots of questions to ask about the revolution and the roles some personalities played in it. I have some memories of certain events from the era.

I grew up in Burma Camp. The primary school I attended was just a stretch from Gondar Barracks. When guns roared, we were ushered into the classroom and asked to put our heads on the table, doors closed. We will remain in that position for good long while. This happened a couple of times. On one occasion it was not safe for us to be allowed home until sometime after five o'clock in the evening.

We knew what it meant when they said, "The boys are coming."

One of JJ's bodyguards, a young soldier lived two doors from us on the same apartment block. He loved kids. He always bought and gave sweets to the kids on the block. He was young and newly married. He and his wife were happy to have the bunch of children on the block flock into their apartment. We loved him, he loved us.

My mother, Teacher, as neighbours called her, took his wife who was not much older than my big sister under her wings. My family was close to the couple. In the thick of things, JJ’s bodyguard sometimes brought Ezenator and Asantewaa, JJ’s daughters’ home with him and left them for his wife. My sister and I were the choice playmates for the Rawlings sisters.

Once awhile we played outside on the stairs with them but often their nanny kept them Indoors in their apartment or brought them to ours.

I recall days when all our fathers dressed up in record time and took their guns when the call for the soldiers to gather at the station was made. A siren would go.

One time, in the wee hours of the morning my mother woke us up with her crying. She was holding on to my father's clothes, in tears begging him not to go. My father had his hands on hers gently trying to free himself from her grip, saying I have to go. I remember this vividly.

I knew why my mother was crying. Some of our friend's fathers had gone and not returned. My father was not an infantry soldier. Yet he was also required to take his gun and join the soldiers on the square. It was not a good morning, we all remained indoors that day.

Some Military Intelligence (MI's) were picked up never to return. Some run and managed to escape. I was young but understood some things. The mothers talked. Some of our friends in the neighbourhood’s fathers died. I didn't know how or why but we pointed at the one or two whose fathers were dead.

My class one teacher was married to a military officer, he died in the era of coups. The whole school knew that Mrs X 's husband had been picked up. I did understand very little then, but I knew to be afraid when the guns roared. Those were cold days in the barracks.

My interest in the era grew from stories told as I got older. I remember quite a bit from back then. I remember the sounds of gunfire, talk of deaths, hunger, rations, visits to the canteen with our mess pans for large slices of boiled yam and groundnut soup. I also remember the activities of the 31st December Women’s Association, yellow corn being shared by soldiers' wives, group making of yellow corn kenkey, roasting of gari, bread baking. There were long winding queues in the barracks to buy from the women. My sister and I took turns to wait in them to buy kenkey or bread. You were lucky if you got some.

In my adult years there are key people from that era I've wanted to interview. In 2007, I was fortunate to interview Hon. Courage Quashigah of blessed memory when he was Minister of Health. It took place one Sunday afternoon on the shores of Keta at the Lorneh hotel. We spoke for hours. I asked him why he didn't like JJ, why he exiled, what happened and a host of other questions. He was quite liberal with information from his perspective. It was an afternoon charged with emotions. We met at about 10:00 am and did not part ways until almost 2:00 pm. He however did not want the interview published. So that was that. My curiosity at events of that era peaked even more. I have a tall list of people I want to interview. Some of the names that have popped up in conversations will amaze you.

When Rawlings passed, a project I've shelved knocked at my heart again. I pulled up my old list. One of the first personalities I approached was Hon. Kofi Totobi Quakyi whom I have known from a distance to tell me what he knew about the era and the role he played. He declined the formal interview. I however got a chance to sit with him in conversation. He spoke to me about this and that. Nothing heavy. He told me about his love for music and the arts as well as his involvement in music band entertainment. The conversation turned into branches of several fascinating topics. Most of my hard questions he insisted I wait for answers in his memoirs.

Well, although I did not get all the answers I sought, not even his chirpy parrots filled me in, he was kind enough to permit me to share the contents of the link below with you. Here's to the enigmatic, warm-hearted and ever guarded “ The Man Kofi Totobi Quakyi ”.

https://www.graphic.com.gh/features/opinion/the-man-kofi-totobi-quakyi.html

Tell Your Story

Tue, 26 Oct 2021 14:44:04 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

2021 has been the most challenging year of my life. I've had to battle illness for the very first time. While that threw me it also grounded me. I've learnt to appreciate the important things I took for granted, like walking.

I asked myself once more the purpose of my life and I know to love even harder the little things we often let slide.

Yes, I got ill, that's not so great but I now see the positive side. It's made me appreciate things more. I'm a happier person.

You have your own challenges as children, challenges are not necessarily negative. We’ve all had something significant happen to us one way or other this year.

What are some of the most significant events in your life this year?

Which one of them made the most impact on you and why?

Here's an opportunity to tell the world about the highlight of your year by entering into The ACE Children's End of Year Story Writing Competition, I'm all ears, let's go!

To register directly on EDUKIT

• Click on this link https://edukit.kodeit.app/programmes.asp?provid=1

• Click register on EDUKIT page

• Click student registration

• Complete form

• Click on the register button to submit

• Upon submission you will receive an EDUKIT ID

• Please make note of EDUKIT ID

• Use EDUKIT ID as email subject when submitting your story entry to theacecompetion@playjows.vip

Call me Esi Cocoa

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Sun, 03 Oct 2021 21:04:57 GMT

I'm still breathless from the marathon of information upload of the recently ended African Cocoa and Chocolate Expo (ACCE) 21.

My takeaway from ACCE 21 is that the potential Africa holds in creating wealth from innovative use of cocoa far outweighs the largely existing chocolate industry worth over 150 billion dollars (US) and estimated to double over the next five years if my figures hold true.

That they are bits of cocoa that can be snacked on just as we do peanuts, that cocoa is a spice, that cocoa beans can be made into crunchy bars and on and on, has me asking why these aren't common everyday diet for every Ghanaian and African for that matter.

The vision is clear. We know what we know. What's left are enabling policies to support the drive of Cocoapreneurs who are striving in their struggles to make a place for themselves.

In between farming and export of cocoa beans sits a vast world brimming with wealth yet untapped.

Where are the advocates to champion the needed policies to achieve the objective of Africa beyond beans which ACCE 21 so appropriately themed? Stand up please.

ACCE 21 navigated us through discussions from youth involved in innovations in Cocoa and Chocolate industry that called tertiary institutions to encourage students' interest in the industry to curriculum development, mentoring, training, apprenticeships, greater access to advisory services, practical guidance and financial support among other topical issues obstructing the progress of the development of the industry.

Indeed, the spotlight was well placed on value addition beyond the production of chocolates. Mind you the quest for more chocolate made in Africa was not left out.

I got to meet some of the faces behind made in Ghana chocolate, most remarkable was Mr Edem Senanu of ChocoLuv fame. The exhibition of a wide range of products from cocoa had me asking, really? But really, I should not be surprised. Africa is more than capable.

ACCE 21 has not only exposed me to innovation and wealth creation potential in the cocoa industry but also opened doors for me to explore it and make a niche for myself. There's a place for everyone.

ACCE 21 is the beginning of a journey, not a destination.

Congratulations to the Ghana Export Promotion Authority (GEPA) and Know Your Cocoa Foundation (KYFC). I asked Dr Afua Asabea Asare, Chief Executive Officer of GEPA why they are doing such amazing things under cover and did she go for me! "Esi, you and your people aren't interested. We are shouting ourselves hoarse.", She charged.

Dr Asare personally took me on a tour and showed me more amazing stuff happening at GEPA. Please look them up. There's help and support available.

"Mediafuor", Stories from the Cocoa industry are begging to be told. Let's get doing wai. Yen sore, na y3 tumi s3 ye gya ma omanonifuor ka y3 sem ma y3n dudoo.

What a great opportunity for me to have been part of ACCE 21. Sorry you missed out. However, for those unable to attend or login into ACCE 21, all four days of the Expo are available on video on demand @ African Cocoa and Chocolate Expo (ACCE) Facebook page. Don't be left out.

I'm looking forward to next year's event. Meanwhile I shall be enjoying my Cobeanz variety spices. I will try the jollof one first.

Loving Cocoa

Fri, 10 Sep 2021 17:58:47 GMT

I love cocoa. It began with chilled cocoa drinks, dispensed from a cooler, remember those twin ones from way back? It was just the thing to have with meat pie at snack time back in primary school. Then of course, chocolate! Who doesn't love chocolate?

Two decades ago, a friend introduced me to all-natural cocoa powder made into a hot drink.

At first experience it was super bitter, but I managed to down it in small sips in forever. I was tempted to add sugar, but my friend emphatically advised to take it without sugar for full benefits.

Thankfully, in a very short time I could drink it and not flinch at the bitterness.

Not only was I not flinching, I acquired the taste for and began to enjoy it.

A hot cup of all-natural cocoa in the morning with a sprinkle of dawadawa powder was enough breakfast to start my day. I got hooked.

Since then, I can count the rare occasions on which I’ve gone without at least a cup of cocoa a day. I start and end my day with a hot cup of it. If I don't start my day with one, I end it with one. What's life without hot cocoa drink and some dawadawa?

Over the years I've introduced family and close friends to natural cocoa powder. Many are those who have become lovers of it and made me a supplier.

Esi, my cocoa is finished. "People, get own cocoa!" I oblige and continue to supply.

I've been making small shipments of cocoa powder to a couple of friends abroad frequently. They tell me they can't live without it. Who I'm I to take away life's little joys?

Cocoa powder has many health benefits. Scientific research has it that cocoa powder contains iron, zinc, and selenium. These are minerals that help the body to function by boosting the immune system. Adding cocoa powder to your diet helps Improve cognitive health, strengthens the Immune system, lessens side effects of radiation therapy, muscle and nerve function work better, wound healing is accelerated with lower risk of heart disease. For those of us forever trying to lose weight, cocoa does help with that and weight control.

My love experience with cocoa set me on a discovery path to knowing my metabolism well. I've learnt that cocoa is rich in phytonutrients but low in fat and sugar, calories from cocoa powder are stashed with healthy chemicals. Cocoa helps with the regulation of the use of energy and metabolism. My favourite great thing about drinking all-natural cocoa is that it makes me feel full and prolongs hunger pangs. One full cup in the morning carries me far down the day.

In 2019, a wine importer I buy from here in Accra also introduced me to cocoa wine. That particular cocoa wine I bought from her had won an award for innovation.

I was at first sceptical and a little hesitant to spend my hard-earned money on an experimental wine, but she was quite convincing, so I decided to give it a try. She insisted I added another bottle to my purchase because I would most definitely love it. She swore by it. I'm not one afraid to try new things but wine is made from grapes, don't we all know this?

Cocoa wine s3n?

"How is that even possible?" In the end she convinced me, so I bought two bottles instead of one.

I won't tell you who I shared them with. But I will tell what we had it with. Corned beef and egg stew, (none like you've ever known) with spaghetti. It was delicious!

My companion likes to cook while swirling his wine glass with music in the background. We cracked bottle number one open and decanted, let sit for an hour or so. The first whiff of the aroma was heavenly. Prior to opening the cocoa wine, we contemplated on going with our usual, so as not to destroy our taste buds. My companion was sold when he sniffed it. This is going to be good! "How do you know?', I asked. He took a long whiff, rolled his eyes, then said, this (referring to the potent aroma in the air.) I believe my fellow cocoa lovers can attest to the unique aroma and powerful flavour of cocoa.

What started as “let's have half a glass each before dinner”, ended up as, who finished the last bit? After a couple glasses each.

So, i'm sure you’ve guessed what happened to the second one.

I have to say, I'm not a wine connoisseur but I've had my fair share of wine to know a good one when I taste it. That cocoa wine was superb.

When it first hit my tongue it tasted like fruity red wine, mildly. The flavour was very pleasant, not to mention again the aroma. The slightly smoky taste of cocoa popped up just after I had savoured it. That's when you taste the real difference between that and regular grape wine. The flavour of cocoa wine has a lingering effect.

I've since been hooked on it and have not been lazy at stocking up when my pocket permits.

In May 2020, I had great need of some cocoa wine to serve at an event, only for the importer to have run out of stock. Imagine my consternation. I had gone and run my mouth about it and had been tasked to deliver. "What am I to do?" I went online to search for some, zero. I gave up and made plans for an alternative.

Enter a cocoa farmer and a winemaker in West Africa of all places. I've since been introduced to made in Ghana cocoa wine.

These days it's not only chocolate and a hot cup of natural cocoa drink I live for. I also live for cocoa wine.

By the way, one of those I introduced natural cocoa powder to has recently discovered a brand of cocoa powder abroad. All natural, the beans are unroasted. I am reliably informed it tastes great and goes down smoothly. Your guess is as good as mine. I've put in a request for two packs, all I want from there for Christmas.

My love experience with cocoa has been nothing but a godsend. It has yielded me clear skin, which takes effect from within, then regular use of cocoa butter gives it a fine finish. Tell you what ladies, you are promised extra hygiene in your secret places when you drink all natural cocoa. Hand on my heart.

I love cocoa, I do. I always will and wouldn't have it any other way. I intend to nurture my cocoa love and expand my knowledge of it.

Christmas is just around the corner, wine and chocolate have their special roles. So, if you care to explore and experience the unique flavour of cocoa wine, DM me. I will show you where to get some cocoa goodies and how to bite your tongue "chocolate-ing" and "cocoa-ing".

Becoming A Bean

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Mon, 23 Aug 2021 16:10:05 GMT

I recently heard the story of a little boy who made a small backyard garden at his home in Kumasi.

The young lad grew two items in his little garden, beans and tomatoes. He watched his plants grow.

The bean fascinated him because it always found its way to climb on to anything it could get a hold of to creep higher in order to get more sun.

The young lad decided to do an experiment. He covered the bean sprouts with sheets. Somehow they always found their way out from beneath the sheets. His mind was preoccupied by the resistance of control by the bean and it’s persistence at freeing itself from beneath the cover to reach at the sun. The young lad was blown away by this.

Many years later, in his late 40’s , across the oceans and at a crossroad in his life, he recalled his experience of the bean sprouts in his little garden back home in Kumasi. He came to realise the resilience of the green beans and it’s persistence to grow, latching on to whatever can support it to reach at the sun for growth.

The man drew inspiration from the way of the bean to edify himself.

I was moved by his story and wanted to learn about the bean and its characteristics.

Beans have the ability to grow as climbing or spreading vines. By twining, stems beans can curl up on any medium within its reach and grow.

Symbolically beans have been interpreted to represent resurrection and reincarnation because they grow spiritually upwards. Another interpretation is that it symbolizes the male organ and can connote immortality because of its phallic state of being.

Dream interpreters say when a person dreams of green beans, it is the representation of unpleasant choices. It can also be incidents or experiences one knows to be in their best interest however unpleasant. It represents taking responsibility when one is not necessarily obliged to. Interpreters further have it, that it is reflection of a long- term decision though unexciting but will be beneficial to the person.

I love vegetables and incorporate them in my diet heavily but I’ve not until now seen them as a source of inspiration for my personal growth and tenacity. Come to think of it, drawing from the bean which can’t be held down, I realise nature indeed has a lot to teach us. The saying that everything we need is around us couldn’t be more true. There’s mulch wisdom to acquire by simply observing nature if we care to.

I’ve likened myself to an animal, a bird but never a legume. Perhaps, subconsciously I thought them too weak?

Well, now I know. If I were to be a vegetable, although I’m yet to take time to learn as much about the ways of the many other vegetables, i think I can for now, quite comfortably choose to be a green bean.

There’s much to gain if we, like the green bean resist all attempts at oppression and push for our growth wide or high. We can then hold on to every opportunity, even that which may appear to be an obstruction so we beat our challenges to reach our goals.

Like the green bean I will always seek the face of the sun no matter what comes my way. Especially, because of what comes my way.

My Recurring Dream-What does it mean?

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Sun, 15 Aug 2021 22:18:35 GMT

Episode 3

I'm finally sharing this dream because of a rather very peculiar incident on my last visit there. I had not been there in the year 2021 until last night. I found myself involuntarily at the place again. Happily basking in its glorious sun rays, just walking and enjoying the songs of the birds. From a distance, I saw a pretty cottage and there, a man was weeding with a hoe. Suddenly, he stopped weeding and looked up straight in my direction. I must have looked at him so hard it bore into his soul to look up at me. Have you ever experienced that feeling of being watched? The man called out, “ Tabewah , is that you?” Goodness, how did he know my "suitcase" name? I hurriedly walked to him, "Yes it's me."

When I got close, I realized why he knew my private name, I recognized him. It was one of my mother's younger cousins I know from our village. I did not recall his name as we've always referred to him as uncle. Typical of Fantes, my tribesmen.

I asked if the place was his, it wasn't. He was just tending to it. He picked up his hoe and asked I come with him. He took me to sit under a shed with thatched roof. I could tell it was his usual rest station. A few of what I assumed to be his belongings were strewn about. On the ground were what looked like two cement blocks serving as seats. He offered me one to sit on. We both sat and caught up. I told him how just the other day my mother had spoken of him and said she did not have his contact but needed to speak to him about an outstanding family matter, so she was going to call my far older cousin, Aggie who also lived in the village to connect them. He was very happy to see me. He peeled sugarcane with a small cutlass and offered some to me. I thanked him and got to work on them. These were the softest, sweetest and juiciest sugarcane I've ever had. Not sugar sharp sweet like sugar yet sweeter,. in no time I was full and had to stop although many remained in the old well-worn size 32 aluminum bucket of years ago. I had not seen one like that in a very long time. I asked him who owned the place, he signaled in the direction of the little cottage, pointing with his head, ' they are over there ." Just then, as if on cue, a homely looking woman, plump, beautiful olive skin with apron tied to her waist, head wrapped in a silk duku, the kind my maternal grandma" Maami" used to wear came out the door and called out in an unfamiliar language.

Just then a girl jumped down from a short tree nearby which I had not noticed the whole time I was sitting with Uncle under the shed. The girl looked in her early teens, big boned and stocky, there was something familiar about her but couldn't easily point it out. She wrapped her palms around the stem of tree, it was thin, and shook it a few times. Then, down came a rain of big fresh red tomatoes, shaped like the Navrongo kind but much bigger in size, juicer too. I could tell they were juicier than the kind from Navrongo because a few of the many that fell to the ground burst open spilling red wine-like juices on the dark, obviously very fertile soil. Can you imagine seeing red clearly on dark sand? That's exactly how it was. There were blotches of squashed red fatty tomatoes here and there on the ground. The girl left the tree and walked towards us, pass us, ignoring us but not in a rude manner.

It seemed she was oblivious to our presence. I felt a bit slighted. If she is used to Uncle, she does not know me so a little acknowledgement would have been nice, I thought as I watched her walk hurriedly into the cottage. In a flash she was back outside, by the tree and picking the red tomatoes off the ground into a familiar calabash bowl. I looked closely at the calabash. It is my calabash. The very same one I bought at Nima market which my friend Afia says she would never, not in a million years, spend the amount I spent purchasing a calabash. I remember laughing and telling her she had absolutely no taste. Could she not see the beauty of the natural etchings merged with the handmade carvings?

Anyway, it was this very calabash which hangs on the wall in my lounge, next to the floppy wall basket my beloved Fati, who sells amazing Bolga baskets and numerous other local artifacts at the market in Bolga, gifted me. How did she come by it? I don't use that bowl in the kitchen! Beginning to feel vexed I checked myself, remembering to be nice as I wanted Uncle to introduce me to the woman and her daughter. I wanted to go and help the girl pick the tomatoes but was hesitant, ''too forward'' , ''leave it be'' , I advised myself. The girl picked the tomatoes until the bowl was full and brimming with tomatoes. Lazy girl, I thought, I bet many of the ones on top will fall back to ground and make a mess. So wasteful. She picked up the bowl, held it in balance to her chest and walked back into the cottage. Not a single tomato fell. It was marvellous.

I was expecting the girl to come out and gather the rest of the tomatoes, but she didn't. There were still so many left on the ground. A big enough pile, by my eye's calculation, to fill all three trays in my refrigerator. I was bothered they may be left to go to waste. I dismissed the thought and focused on getting introduced to the woman and her stocky daughter. Thought of the woman and her daughter jolted me back into awareness as I was beginning to drift off in thought. Uncle was running on about something but he had lost me. The woman called out for Uncle to come take something, the language was not one I knew but somehow I understood exactly what she meant.

Uncle jumped up respectfully and run to the woman who was at the cottage door with a bowl of the most colourful variety of vegetables I've ever seen. It looked like whole vegetables salad. I could see small green bell peppers as well as jalapenos sprinkled on top. It looked so pretty I wanted to take a picture for my Facebook friend, Indira Brew, who loves to post colourful artistic photos of fruits and vegetables on her wall. There's a particular one she put up I loved so much I saved it to my favourites. It is a photo of corn in different variety, very colourful and pleasant to look at. The pleasantness of the basket of vegetables was a thousand times more pleasing to the eye than the corn photo I saved. Unfortunately, I did not have my phone with me so I couldn't take a picture of it. It would have been a delight to share with Indira.

Uncle took the bowl from the woman and left saying nothing to me. I knew he was taking the bowl of vegetables to the mill. I don’t know how I knew but I knew. Alone, under the shed, I contemplated going to introduce myself to the woman. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but is it ? Next I knew I was back to walking around the place. By this time, I was used to discovering new things, so I expected to. I walked through an amazing garden with perfectly pruned trees. Someone had worked on a Japanese Bonsai tree, it sat majestically in the middle of the garden, centred exactly as you would place a focal piece. I wondered why parts of the place were tended to and others not.

Before I could complete the thought, I was transported under the shortest ever pawpaw tree with super large deep green leaves. I love pawpaw, so imagine my delight. I don’t know how I came by a plastic basket but there was one by me, half filled with long tube-like pawpaws. They were the sizes of medium size yams but shaped just like pawpaws. It was fascinating. There were low hanging ones which I easily plucked. I filled the basket and set off. Although I was carrying a basket full of large sized pawpaws, it felt weightless. In a split second I was by what looked like a pen, but it was not complete as the last side to close off the fence was left undone – Perhaps that's why there are no goats in it. Besides the little white rabbit I saw on my very first visit there I had not seen any other animal of any kind. Just hundreds and hundreds of fruits, plants and flowers. Oh yes, and the butterflies.

Next to the uncompleted pen was a large signpost. It had a white board with the bold inscription VERY GOOD on it. VERY at the top, GOOD at the bottom. The chirping of the birds got louder, in a singsong way, it moved me to such joy I started to dance and dance and dance. Feeling light and weightless I began to float in the air like astronauts do in space with a basketful of pawpaws. Then came a revaluation. A phrase flashed before my eyes. A voice said,

'' This is the VERY GOOD place ''

My eyes opened, I was solidly on my bed and in my room. I was awake, back to earth where gravity reigns supreme.

Well, to interpreters of dreams and prophets, those yet to prove untrustworthy, what does my recurring dream mean?

MaxTv's Akorfa Torko Makes GMAEA Nomination

Fri, 13 Aug 2021 12:47:43 GMT

Akorfa Torko, popularly known as ''Sensational'', singer and host of MaxTv's Novella Chat has been nominated for the maiden edition of Ghana Media And Entrepreneurship Awards (GMAEA) as entertainment show host of the year.

The "Sensational " woman debuted her career as a Tv host on StarTimes AdepaTv's Asintado Nk)m) in 2019. Her captivating first appearance caught the eye of MaxTv and landed her a contract with the network as the chat show host for the channel's many exciting Filipino telenovelas dubbed into Twi.

Akorfa started her entertainment career as a dancer with Slim buster's group many years ago.

The beautiful fifty Something year old cut her teeth in the music industry in 1989 when she got the opportunity to back up KK Kabobo. He liked her voice so much. Through his encouragement she took up music.

Along the way, she moved to Takoradi and joined Mac 2 band where she worked with Felix Owusu and others for a couple of years.

In 2008, she recorded her debut album " Holy Ghost Fire " of which she had two hit songs, Holy Ghost Fire and Alek3 .

Although she recorded a second album some years after, it was not released.

Previously, the Novella Chat host had stints on television making guest appearances on entertainment shows.

According to viewers Akorfa communicates to them. She is confident at being herself. Her affable personality is infectious and engaging. In addition, she is pleasant to watch.

Akofa loves working as a Tv host. She likes asking questions and takes the opportunity to counsel people whenever one presents itself.

She talks of how novelas mirror life.

" Now and then we see ourselves in there through some of the characters . It's easy to judge the characters and dismiss them as mere fantasy but we must remember that the writers draw from life to create the story so what we see happening can be juxtaposed to life. "

It is from this understanding that she engages her viewers to analyse events which unfold in the novelas.

Akorfa believes that what is important is not what happens to us but how we take what happens to us.

" For me I don't just watch the series, I take lessons from them ."

Sensational states " Feedback from viewers say my show is educative and they Love me so much. "

She adds, " I want to impact my viewers, by encouraging them to keep pursuing their dreams. I use myself as an example. When you are determined in life, whatever you set your mind to can be achieved. I take every opportunity to encourage myself and others that we can become our better selves through what happens to us, if we choose "

Akorfa says the GMAEA nomination comes as a complete surprise to her. She is happy for the recognition and hopes her fans will vote massively for her to win the award.

MaxTv's Baby Dapaah and Eli Kondoh have also been nominated for other categories.

Catch the Sensational woman on Novella Chat , MaxTv every Sunday at 1:00PM.

My Recurring Dream-Mixed Feelings

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Fri, 06 Aug 2021 10:28:12 GMT

Episode 2

Where was this place? Disoriented, not quite sure I had been where I was, I stretched out. It felt so real. I usually dismiss my dreams but on this occasion I pondered over it. Why didn't I bring some of the amazing fruits with me? Perhaps I was sent there to gather? To curb the waste or was my integrity being tested?

Over the years, on many different occasions I've been transported to the place so many times. I always discover new areas I had not been to on my previous visits. One time I was taken to an area that had fruits and flowery plants of many varieties all together. There were so many butterflies they covered the sky. I kid you not! It was beautiful. I felt I was home each time I visited. Could this be Eden? But wait I don't recall seeing apple trees, not like those I saw in the villages in France on the school field trip many years ago. Well, just because I've not seen any does not mean there aren't any, I chatted with myself. There's been an occasion I came back to wake, faintly recalling that I may have eaten a fruit from the place but wasn't quite sure. The scent of the place remains in my nostrils for a while in the morning before slowly dissipating. I loved the place and had become attached.

In one dream, I felt a particularly strong desire for the peace and calm of the place that I actually made a plan to visit and spend the day there.

I took the Kenyan weave blanket my sista-friend Nancy gave me as a gift and a book with me. I remember exactly which book, The Thorn Birds . I intended spending all day. This was the first time I had planned in the dream to go there. On the numerous times I visited the place, I just found myself there, never remembering the journey. I set off, I walked, roamed and searched but couldn't find it. But how could I? I had not kept in memory any road signs or landmarks. I wake frustrated with tears flowing down my cheeks to my pillow. I mean real tears.

Ever since I began visiting the place, I've only ever seen one human being, a short dark bearded man. His beard was like that of Osama Bin Laden's. I took notice as the volume, length and fluffiness of it, looked unlike that of a man with a dark, dark, near purple skin tone, the Nzema kind. He was a strikingly good looking man. I don't remember what he was wearing but I do recall the walking stick which had on top the symbol of the Asona clan. His walk was lazy but firm. He didn't need the walking stick, not by the looks of him. I would peg his age around early 60's, not more.

I was squatted gathering fruits from the ground as he approached. Goodness me! Could this be the owner? I braced myself for questioning. When he got to the spot I was, he kept walking, completely ignoring me. So, I blurted out, “Sir, please do you know the owner of this place?” He turned his head in my direction but kept the pace of his walk and answered, “No I don't.” I said, “well, I wanted to ask the owner’s permission for some of these.” I pointed to the mound of fruits I had greedily gathered on the ground. Oh, he shouted, this time his voice sounded familiar, like that of Kɔhw3's, a character in the Akan Tv series produced and broadcast by GTv in the 80's and 90's. Come to think of it, why did GTv stop the production of the drama series? I enjoyed watching them. I liked Kɔhw3 in particular and that's why I remember and can pin down the man's voice. Anyway, he continued, rather unnecessarily loud, given that the distance between us was just an arm’s length. " Ewuraba ," yes he said Ewuraba , "help yourself. We all do." and kept walking.

I watched him go until he disappeared down a bend in the road. I smiled, happy. Happy because he had lifted a weight off my conscience. It never felt right to take some of the fruits without permission. I did not want to steal or be accused of stealing. If the man says I can then I guess I would. It is the convention to help yourself. The man said so. Could it be a trap? Was he trying to trick me?. Again I woke, not recalling if I carried some of the fruits with me. Deep down I knew I hadn't because I still did not feel right to take what does not belong to me without definite permission.

I've been back and forth the place so many times never managing to take any fruits from the place. I remember on one occasion I came upon a large villa with pretty red roses all around it. I call it a villa because it looked much like the Spanish kind featured in "Town & Country" magazine. I've not seen a copy in ages. I loved flipping through the pages and admired the beautiful homes and decor. This Spanish-like villa, reddish- brown, almost rusty but squeaky clean with large white windows, the old fashion kind was very welcoming.

I ventured close and called out loud to announce my presence. I felt a tad foolish but went ahead anyway, “Hello, I'm Esi. I just found myself in this beautiful place and wanted to say hi.” The house, though clean from the outside, looked abandoned. It was eerily quiet but not in a haunted way. I did not expect a response, so I walked to door and tried the handle. It was locked. Somehow, I expected it to be. I walked to one of the windows and peered in. It was dark so I couldn't make out anything.

There was a solid oak rocking chair on the large porch. I sat on it and rocked, thinking, ' 'this is just perfect' '. Could this be a vacation home with no caretaker? I wouldn’t mind taking care of it, if only the owner would show up. I rocked some more, feeling myself falling off...then came wakefulness.

To be Cont'd

My Recurring Dream-Should I have?

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Mon, 02 Aug 2021 22:25:45 GMT

Episode 1

I keep visiting a place in my dreams over and over again through the years. This place is the prettiest orchard- garden I've ever seen.

On the very first visit, I was on my way somewhere. It seemed I knew exactly where I was going. Although deep in thought, my walk was confident and purposeful. You know how you can get to a place you know and actually not observe the road or your surroundings because you've walked the route so many times? Well, it was one of those. I suddenly came to a stop. Why? The sound of the place. The sound was unlike anything I've heard before, distinct with quiet chirping of birds in the background.

I could hear what sounded like the croak of frogs, faint but audible. Then I felt the coolest breeze. This breeze is unlike any I’ve ever felt. It was chilly but not the kind of chill that gives you goose bumps. Although I wasn't hot, I felt cooled. In recollection, I look around me, I see the stems of trees in a row, many of them. I look up, the colours of the leaves are in many different shades. The shades are unlike any I've ever seen. I could however recognize and name some of them. There were shades of green, yellow, brown, orange, purple, yes, purple leaves! The sight was breathtaking.

A unique feeling washed over me. I will describe it as peace of mind. Peace of mind unlike I've ever known, I would call it divine. This place is sacred, I thought. I felt it too.

I looked around where I was standing, unsure of venturing further. I was mesmerized and anxious at the same time. Mesmerized by the atmosphere of the place but anxious because I was trespassing. I turned to leave, not knowing if that was even the exit as I did not recall how I got there. Then I heard what sounded like footsteps. I called out as loudly as I could, ‘Hello, hello, somebody there?’ There was no response, but I could hear the footsteps coming towards me. I began approaching the direction of the sound of the footsteps. Although I felt I was trespassing and should be careful, I also felt very comfortable. Almost as if I owned the place. But of course not.

As I walked further towards the footsteps, strangely, the more it faded away. I heard a screeching sound behind me, I turned and there it was, the prettiest little white rabbit! I've never seen a live rabbit before. I've eaten them, but never seen a live one. The pretty starry-eyed creature stared at me, rather fiercely but in a friendly way. I stared right back. You little trickster, rattling around making me think it was a human. As if it had heard my thoughts, it scuttled off on a path I had not noticed earlier. By now, I had pretty much abandoned my journey to wherever I was going and was taking a tour of the place.

I followed the tiny rabbit on the path, a few steps forward, it disappeared into a hole. Its home? I walked on, dismissing the little creature. I see trees to my left and right in perfectly lined rows, just as I saw earlier on the other side. It reminded me of the palm and banana plantations I saw in Israel on the way to Tiberius. There were rows and rows of palm and banana trees so perfectly lined you would believe the planters put a tape to it.

Suddenly I smelled a whiff of something fruity, mangoes! Goodness! There, surrounding me were mango trees of many varieties, shapes and colours. They were big, small, round, oval, green, orange, yellow and red. Red, similar to the colour of red apples, hanging on the trees, some overripe and fallen to the ground. You know how good the aroma of ripe mango is. Well, imagine that one hundred times over. I notice many of those on the ground were rotten, rotten but did not smell at all. I know because I picked one, expecting to see ants on it but there were none. Interesting, I thought. My very first smell of the place, to this day is etched in my memory, deeply.

I suddenly found myself in another spot. This time, it was in the midst of pear trees, the largest size of pears I've ever seen. Wow, I could tell they were the very buttery kind by the look of their skin. Yes, just like those on my grandpa's farm in ' Kromamme', somewhere in Gomoa West. I wanted to pluck one for taste but hesitated. I told myself to wait and ask first. So, I left it.

Within the space of what seemed like hours un-end, I kept being transported from one location to another, I found myself landing at different spots as if it was someone's intention to show me around but there was no one there but me. At least it felt that way. All through my sightseeing, the quiet but distinct humming of the birds remained in a constant rhythm. It was musical and soothing. It calmed my spirit. I saw so many fruits there, many of which I did not know or recognize. Yes, uncountable numbers of fruit variety. I remember seeing peaches and wondering, peaches? In the tropics? Another thing I vividly remember is the bright sunshine, so bright the orange rays almost turned pale but not quite. As I said, it was not hot. Ever felt or seen the rays of winter sun? It was kind of like that. It's the only description closest to reality I can find.

By this time, I had a strong desire to gather some of the fruits and take with me. But which? The ones I've never seen or tasted or the familiar but different ones? How many? What would I carry them in? Then it struck me, I can't come to someone's place and take what doesn't belong to me without permission. It's wrong. Frustrated, I called out "obi wɔ ha?" Is anyone here? Not that I expected a response. Well, none came. But would the owner really mind if I take some of the fruits with me? So many ripe ones up the trees and ready to fall. Many fallen to the ground, quite a number of them were rotten.

So, what would it matter if I took a few away?

In the middle of the debate with myself I woke, “Allahu Akbar!” said the mosque two streets away.

To be Cont'd

The Joy of Success; Three AGS students Clock 9 1's in 2020 BECE

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Wed, 06 Jan 2021 20:16:47 GMT

My daughter passed her Basic Education Certificate Examination (BECE) very well. I was particularly proud because I expected a lower grade for Math than she got. Feeling proud and excited, I asked about her mates she is friends with at school. Smiling, she informed me three of her mates made 9 1's. Aseda Philip, Emmanuel Nyame and Ewurama Nhyira Taylor made nine ones! My excitement hit roof top. She is friends with Ewurama so I am well acquainted with her. There's nothing more delightful than parents seeing their hard work pay off when children also put in the needed effort in their studies to encourage parents to work harder and stay committed to their responsibilities.

I had to congratulate Ewurama in person. I caught up with her recently at her home in Oyibi to find out how she got these remarkable results. In conversation with her she gave some insight. Meet 15-year-old Ewurama Nhyira Taylor of Accra Grammar School (AGS), Oyibi. She made nine straight ones in the 2020 BECE hands down. I asked Ewurama if she just got lucky or there is more to it. She smugly informed me luck is not a word in her dictionary.

"I believe solely in hard work, dedication and the blessings of the Almighty. I put extraordinary effort into my studies, and with my undying faith in the Lord and most significantly the utmost support and encouragement from my parents, I have been able to achieve these results."

Telling me about her academic journey from first grade she has always been the inquisitive type who asks questions often considered far beyond her years. She is naturally studious and tends to strive for excellence in everything she attempts. She has held leadership positions through out her years at school. She was a prefect during her final year at AGS. Her appointment as prefect taught her responsibility, she says. She learnt to appreciate punctuality and meticulousness; values she finds essential for a successful academic journey. Although the leadership positions she held helped propel her in a positive direction, it also made her feel a little pressured as she was expected to be a good example for her peers. Ewurama' s path to success has not been all easy.

"In the beginning of Junior High, l struggled with Basic Design and Technology (BDT) due to the complicated technical drawings. I found myself lacking understanding in that course. I was struggling so I put in more effort in that area of study. I started getting extra tuition in the subject. I also got a tiny notebook dedicated to the subject, to keep crucial notes. I paid so much attention in class to enable me understand BDT better. I also added it more often into my study schedule. With all these efforts put in place, I was able to secure a pass, not just an average one, but an outstanding one."

At a period, Ewurama felt a constant need for validation.

"This caused me to have crippling anxiety. I was afraid to even relax a little lest I fail. I doubted my ability and was afraid my efforts were not enough. Through assistance from my family, teachers and dear peers, I regained my confidence. Hence, I knew what I was bringing to the table and expected nothing less than nine 1's."

With encouragement, positive affirmations and support from her family she overcame her anxiety.

According to her teachers, Ewurama has always been an above average student. Regardless, she always puts in a great deal of effort into her studies, never complacent . Ewurama explains "I happen to be blessed all round and excel in most activities I partake in. I believe that no matter how talented one is, it is with constant practice and effort that keeps the candle burning. We are all blessed with a special talent, not all may be academics related, but whatever talent a person possesses can contribute highly to a more functional society." Ewurama commits to whatever she does and does so with seriousness. She sheds light on a particular subject that students at AGS in the past seemed just unable to grasp well enough.

"For a few years, not many people excelled in Religious and Moral Education (RME), but I was determined to break the "jinx". After every examination year, the chief examiner gives a report on the performance of students in the examinations and things to do in order to improve performances. Throughout the years, the outstanding problem the chief examiner mentions is the failure to understand questions asked, in an examination, understanding the questions alone solves the problem. So, I studied the GES approved past questions to know how we were expected to answer questions. My dear RME teacher, Mr. Siameh also put in a tremendous amount of hard work to ensure we were all well prepared for the examination."

Mr Maxwell Obuobi, one of Ewurama's teachers said this of her.

"Ewurama is one of the most humble, respectful and serious students I have ever met in AGS, she is a born leader since I knew her from grade 6. I always refer to her as Ghana's first female president. She always strives to learn ahead of the class. She will request to know the reasons why she was marked wrong in her class exercise or exams so she could make corrections next time. She always takes part in all extra curriculum activities, such as dance choreography, drama, quiz competitions and spelling BEE among others. She is one of the teachers' favourites. She was the " assistant teacher " for almost all the JHS teachers."

Ewurama says it is difficult to put into words how happy she is about the outcome of her efforts. She urges JHS 3 students about to sit for the 2021 BECE to read often and widely, spend a lot of time trying their hands at solving past questions, as the questions are mostly recycled. According to Ewurama, students should keep a positive mindset towards the exam, they should keep reminding themselves that nothing is too difficult. Paying attention in class during lessons is critical, as vital information that is not in the textbook, is passed on through class lessons. She adds that disassociation from distractions such as bad peers, addictive use of mobile phones and excessive watching of television, films and telenolas go a long way to help . She encourages students to also make time for leisure, as the brain cannot assimilate much when it is not given time off to refresh itself. Ewurama loves to swim for fun and also enjoys watching investigative films. She hopes her achievement will encourage other young girls to have confidence in themselves and believe that getting all ones is doable no matter where they find themselves.

Ewurama's mentioning of her parents' support helping her overcome anxiety is a resounding reminder for me that the benefits of direct involvement of parents in our children’s school activities cannot be underestimated. Researchers recognize the important role that a strong positive bond between home and school play in the development and education of children . A good bond between home and school contributes highly to well roundedness and academic success of students. Parents can be useful by demonstrating a positive view of education at home, sharing the values and positive outlook towards education and how it relates to hopes, dreams and ambitions to help motivate young people to persevere when they hit roadblocks in their academic pursuit. Encouraging reading help children develop interest not only in reading but also in many other subjects as well. Teaching children to enjoy reading is the single most important gift a parent can offer a child. It is also important to help manage the process of homework by setting aside a special place of study and establishing regular time for homework.

General participation of parents in school events and meetings is a good way of bonding with teachers and learning about a child's behaviour and challenges at school.

In my conversation with Ewurama I got a good sense that stability at home and active participation of her parents in her school life also contributed largely to landing her success in her BECE. Ewurama is looking forward to entering senior high school. She wants to study General Science and aspires to become a medical doctor in future.

Congratulations to Ewurama, Masters Philip and Nyame, their parents and the management and staff of Accra Grammar School for their hard work and dedication and also for making us all proud. Indeed, excellence is best achieved in community.

Bronya Apata Finale

Sun, 27 Dec 2020 13:45:10 GMT

Storytelling is the oldest form of communication, its power in educating, entertaining and informing is unrivaled by any other art form. In Ghana, although this age-old tradition appears to be wearing off in recent times, storytelling still plays a vital role in our everyday lives.

Our forefathers took storytelling very seriously. They put time and thought to weave stories that bind, empower and also help serve as guides to living for the people.

Some of the morals in stories passed down from generations long before our time has formed the bedrock of societal values today.

The strength and stability of our society lies in the telling of our stories our way, stories of old, new and of the future. Telling our stories of old and new will help determine what kind of future we have to look forward to as a people.

Everyone has a story. We tell stories from personal experiences and share them for people to laugh, learn from and pass on information that may be useful to others.

It is for the sake of a better future that Lododo Arts Foundation, players of African theatre bring us Ghanaian stories from all over Ghana under “Bronya Apata” to add to the celebration of the season by reminding us of who we are through stories of love, wisdom, goodwill and cheer.

Tonight, from the beautiful gardens of Number 26 Little Legon, University of Ghana, Legon Campus, Lododo Arts Foundation will celebrate once again amazing stories from traditional folktales and folksongs in performance of the “Bronya Apata” finale.

"Bronya Apata" does not stop at stories only. Typical of Ghanaian performances wherever there's a stage, there is song and dance and this time there's traditional games as well.

Dr Sarah Dogbazi and Dr Ekua Ekumah are the founders of Lododo Arts and producers of “Bronya Apata” which first run in December 2019 at the Efua Sutherland Drama Studio, School of Performing Arts, Legon and again for the second time this year from Little Legon.

The performance opened on the 25th of December 2020.

A special matinée was added on Saturday, 26th December from 4:00pm to 6:00 pm for the benefit of the young ones.

If you love storytelling the way we do it in Ghana, then “Bronya Apata" is just the place for you and the family to be tonight, 27th December 2020 .

So far, “Bronya Apata” has received rave reviews from audiences. I love it!

"I love it!"

Masks up and catch this evening's performance if you missed the previous ones.
The rate 30.00 cedis per head for adults. Entry is free for children below ten years.
The show starts at 7:00 pm.
All COVID-19 preventive protocols are strictly observed.

Bomaa Bronya

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Sun, 20 Dec 2020 11:58:08 GMT

Recollections of Christmases Past

Afia Bremponaa Hinneh, second from left with her older twin sisters circa 1993/94.

For a reason I cannot put my finger on, this Christmas has become particularly important to me. Perhaps it is that the year 2020 has brought so much negative anxiety. For years, since I became a mother, I've gone through the festivities of the Christmas season just for my children. I had entirely lost interest in Christmas until my childhood memories were recently evoked, reigniting my interest in the season and the joy and genuine goodwill it brings.

I find myself in the spirit and looking forward to Christmas day as much as I used to as a child growing up in the military barracks on an apartment block full of so many other children, one of whom is William Kwame Asiedu, managing editor of EIB Network. His handsome older brother, Mike and I, got on famously. He was the DJ of the block. Mike would play music and gather the kids for a dance competition periodically. The height of the competition was during the Christmas festivities. Back then William, Kwame I call him was a great dancer; he had moves! We lived .

Lately I've taken to asking people how they spent their Christmas holidays as children and what it meant for them. My enquiry got Afia Brempomaa Hinneh showing me some photos of herself as a child all decked out in her Bronya dress ready to go "Afehyia pa-ing", visiting friends and family to wish them the best of the season and the coming year.

The traditional afehyia pa tour is a kind of well-wishing affirmations spread around to turn fortunes round for the better for everyone. Afia, who comes from Bomaa, a small town in the Tano North District of Ahafo Region where she also grew up, told me Christmas was the highlight of the year for which the entire town anxiously looked forward to and prepared for.

Preparation towards Christmas begin as early as December 10th for the people of Bomaa. Afia recounts how Christmas festivities proceeded.

“We gather firewood, harvest food from the farm left purposely for use during the Christmas season. It was during this period that some of the best crops were preserved for harvesting.

By December 20th, the families get much busier where every member was required to go to the farm to help out. One of the main duties was to bring home ‘ Bronya Aduane'; farm produce for the celebration of Christmas – cassava, yam, plantain, cocoyam, vegetables and fruits in large quantities. Even children as young as three were given something small to carry home from the farm. Stocking up on firewood was most important as lots of cooking is done during this period.

On 24th December, every member of the family will go to the farm for the last time of the year to bring home their “Bronya Dua” Christmas tree. This is not the "conventional" Christmas tree you may be thinking of. The Christmas tree we bring home are crops that can be planted to bear fruit . I preferred the plantain sucker and always went for that. Immediately after returning home from the farm, everyone scrambled to find just the perfect spot on the compound to plant their christmas tree. It was each individual’s responsibility to water and look after their tree to ensure it flourishes through the year. If the trees grow, it is a sign of good things to come.

Christmas eve was no time for sleeping. I imposed upon myself a kind of wake keeping. I would toss and turn on my mat going over and over in my mind how my "Bronya ataadi3", Christmas dress, would look on me. I was way too anxious for Christmas to arrive that sleep would often not come until much later, deep into the night.

On the 25th December, alas Christmas day, everyone was up at the crow of the cock! . Sounds of neighbours wishing each other Afehyiapa can be heard from nearby homes.

We take our baths early, take our mini special breakfast and set off to church. Christmas church service was special, the church windows were decorated with wreathes woven from palm branches intertwined with colourful flowers of all kinds. There was lots of singing, dancing and hand shaking. Some handshakes were so vigorous that one may actually feel a slight jolt of pain in the upper joint of his or her arm.

The adults hurry home after Christmas service to light the kitchen fires in preparation for the evening meal.

After dinner, nice and full, we take our evening baths and settle down for storytelling. Most of the stories were mainly fables with some, downright spooky. We would break out in song, call and response and make merry by the dim lit fire until bedtime.

Christmas for the people of Bomaa truly begin on 26th December, boxing day. It is the biggest day of enjoyment. At dawn, all the fowls in the coops sadly for them but joyously for us, meet their death.

Depending on the kind of animal each household had kept for the celebration of the season, sharply sharpened knives met their throats. Chickens clucked, sheep and goats bleated "mmaair" all over town in the early morning . The naughty ones who broke bounds got chased. That was a whole sport in itself for the boys.

Again, we take an early bath and wait with bated breath to wear our Bronya Ataadeɛ for the first time. Woe betide you if you dirtied yourself after your bath, you dare not make your feet dirty or you will be required to take another bath. If you refused you were absolutely disqualified from wearing your new outfit. You simply won't be allowed your dirty feet in your new pair of white socks, often laced prettily and dotted with tiny pearls.

The adults would get busy with cooking. Latest by 10:00 am, fufu would be ready, Bowls of fufu would be lined up before my grandmother for soup to be served on them. This is where you pray for the biggest meat. It was the one chance all through the year for us children to dig our teeth into meat we could not even handle. Yes, the chunks of goat meat served on our fufu were that big. We relished the meal so much, just imagine the amount of finger licking that takes place.

My mother makes the best jollof! .The kind that has a thin layer of oil lined at the base of the pot with oil-soaked crusty bits of rice cake, killer jollof that was. The entire household loved my mother's jollof and looked forward to it in the afternoon after the fufu session. It was the only occasion we had corned beef, which my mom used amply in preparing the huge “dedesen” pot of jollof rice. Unlike the morning fufu the jollof was not meant for just our household. It was to be shared amongst external family members and friends. My mother would serve many portions of jollof rice, garnished with eggs, placed in baskets covered in white lace for us to carry to their various destinations. Children in our household took the eating of my mother's jollof rice very seriously and I suspect the adults did too. This was the only occasion when rice was eaten in the whole year by our household and for many townsfolks as well.

After lunch, alas we wear our new Bronya ataade3, compare looks and gush over our beautiful selves. Our bronya Ataade3 with matching white socks come with accompanying accessories, colourful sunglasses and cone paper hats attached with strings. Parents took great pride in seeing their children all dressed up looking so good. It is a symbol of blessing for the family in that year. Hence the need for the exhibition of this fashion parade where everyone steps out in their best outfit to go visiting family and friends in greetings of the season, locally referred to as “ Afehyia pa ” literally meaning the year has ended well, to which the receiver responds “ Afe nko mmeto to yen bio " May the coming year also meet us well. From these visits, one is sure to return home with gifts of all variety, money, drinks, Piccadilly biscuits, hot rice dishes, chocolate and candies of all kinds.

There is always a football match by the youth in the afternoon. Town folks, including those who have travelled back from elsewhere make it a point to go spectating the football match. Everyone loved this event. There is lots and cheers and merry making.

By sundown, 6:00 pm thereabout, the afehyia pa visits and the annual football match events come to an end. Children head home to show their parents the gifts they have received. In my household, none of us children dare eat a bit of any of the goodies given us until our mother checks and prays over them, blesses the giver and keeps them for sharing amongst us the next morning.

Christmas festivities continued all through until New Year’s Day when another mega meal preparation occurred. Left over prepared food gifts from external family members and neighbours, usually rice, were all put together in one pot. My grandmother would preserve it in an earthernware pot over lightly stoked fire for eating the next day. Not much cooking is done in our household on January 2nd as there was more than enough leftovers from the day before.

By January 3rd, life was back to as we know it, normal and nowhere near as exciting as the season past .”

As I listened to Afia recall her memories of Christmas past, I smiled at the glee in her eyes, she squealed with laughter at the line up feet inspection before the wearing of the grand white socks. The upset faces of those who had to go wash their feet or take an afternoon bath. The delay it will cause them, less the afehyiapa goodies got finished before their turn. I couldn't help but join her in laughter.

May the spirit of joy, goodwill and love for one another all come together to make our Christmas cheerful and warm.

Afehyia pa ooo!

Afe da sesɛɛ na yɛn ne Corona atwa mu sei tentontan!!!.

Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Cathedral

esiarhinc@yahoo.com (Esi Arhin) — Sat, 12 Dec 2020 11:28:29 GMT

A celebration of Cultures

Picture by: Esi Arhin

Traditionally, cathedrals are stately. They have complex and colourful architectural designs and are also picturesque. It is not unusual to find a cathedral that fits this description. It is not so with the "Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Cathedral" built in 1920 in Navrongo after French Canadian missionaries came to the area. The uniqueness of the cathedral stands out but not in the way you know. It is built of mud, its conventional European style architecture interlocks with local traditional decorative technique distinct of the Kassena- Nankani people of Upper East Ghana.

Our Lady of Seven Sorrows cathedral is a landmark of the people of Navrongo and a symbol of expression of their unique culture.

The use of the two creative expressions is complementary. The experience feels familiar yet as if one has been transported into another world. Looking at the cathedral from the outside, it appears unaffected and subdued. One cannot imagine its bright and colourful exhibition of art work and bold motifs inside of it.The simplicity of the outer design transcends time.

Inside, the themes of the artworks range from scenes of everyday life, animal forms and Christian themes like the nativity scene and the last super.

The cathedral has attached a museum that showcases an exhibition of the culture of the people to bring meaning and significance to the merging of two distinct cultures in worship. The site also has a grotto and accommodation for visitors.

Although our Lady of Seven Sorrows cathedral sits quietly with none of the conventional outer trappings in design common to most great cathedrals, it does not lose it's status as the focus of local pride.

There' s yet to be an edifice of this stature and significance that exhibits the creative skills of the Kassena - Nankani people in such magnitude.

(First published under Ace Turkson on www.nubian_entertainment.com)

Carry a Rainbow

Tue, 27 Oct 2020 11:34:21 GMT

The people of Bolgatanga and its environs in the Upper East of Ghana are known Craftmen and women.

They love to create with their hands, using, leather, straw, wood, brass and all kinds of materials to make things, both for domestic use or decorative art purposes.

One remarkable thing you can not miss when you find yourself in Bolgatanga is the hand woven colourful straw baskets.

You can find them everywhere in different shapes and colours. Bolga baskets are very well made. They are very strong and colourful.

The weavers bring all the colours of the rainbow to dye the straws for the design of the baskets. The colour combination schemes are beautiful and pleasant. The weavers don't stop at beauty, they go the extra mile of making the baskets durable.

Straw and leather are sometimes combined in the designs, this blend give Bolga basket a unique appeal.

Owning a basket is not enough, you must own a Bolga basket. You can't stop at one Bolga basket, with those you purchase must be a collection. You can find pieces in both classic and super trendy contemporary designs in a wide variety.

Here are some of the designs I found at Fati Melody's shop. She also stocks other straw and leather accessories, fans, hats, table mats, handbags, wallets and much more.

The good thing about visiting Bolga is you can carry it back to wherever you came from by the basket.

For your personal bolga basket contact Fati Melody on

Got Talent?

Tue, 27 Oct 2020 11:13:49 GMT

We define our talent and our talent defines who we are.

Watching all the talent shows on TV got me contemplating on talent and how we define it or it let it define us.

I find myself pondering on how we can uncover our talent and put it to effective and beneficial uses towards personal and national development.

One dictionary defines talent as the possession of natural aptitude or skill.

I came across another definition by Angela Duckworth. She defines talent as " the rate at which you get better with effort. The rate at which you get better at soccer is your soccer talent. The rate at which you get better at math is your math talent. You know, given that you are putting forth a certain amount of effort. And I absolutely believeand not everyone does, but I think most people dothat there are differences in talent among us: that we are not all equally talented."

I love her definition, my understanding of it is that it enables us to think about improvement as a product of both innateness and effort. We can improve with effort even when the rate at which we do is slower. Just because a person is talented does not mean he or she should remain as he or she first discovered their special ability and stay stagnate or stale.

A talented person must progressively continue to improve upon the talent he or she possesses. Talent can disipate and or expire without practice.

Duckworth's definition of talent encourages us to press on.

In trying to improve at something, one may set a higher aspiration. Enthusiastically talented people are constantly pushing the envelope to the ultimate level of their current skills and ability.

Whenever one comes to the realisation that he or she is at this height and his or her performance is evaluated in comparison to other people's , it can be interpreted as the comparative outcome that serves as evidence for a lack of talent or as talent being an individual's rate of improvement.

The second interpretation helps to continuously seek improvement, at the same time it gives the opportunity for differences in talent.

I'm reminded of the classic tortoise and hare storyalthough others may be speeding rabbits amongst your circle, there's room for each and everyone of us to aspire to excellence at what we do. We may toddle along like the tortoise but with time a person will achieve their set goals with deliberate and consistent effort.

How do we know what our talents are? Well, I've learnt, that the kind of media we consume speaks a lot about what we value. What we own speaks even louder. This is a true identity marker.

I'd like to pose a few questions to ponder in search of what we are talented at, First, we may ask ourselves, for example, I'm I highly aware of what I spend my time and resources on?

What is the one resonating idea?

What do best and love doing most?

What gives me inexpicable joy?

I believe the world is brimming with talented people, in some cases, multi- talented people. However, for whatever reason, the majority are yet to unearth and fully realise what talent they possess, let alone to put it into expression of any kind. This is sad.

How many times have we not heard that everyone has a talent? I certainly have heard it as many times that each and everyone of us is talented at one thing or other and more. Sadly, most of us don’t know what it is we are talented at, or for some when they do, keep their talent secret and close to their chest, often afraid to explore and express it. Perhaps for fear of criticism or unacceptance by others?

This parable of seven talents, has been interpreted in several ways as a teaching for Christians and for personal abilities.

According to one school of thought, traditionally, the parable of the talents has been seen as an exhortation to Jesus' disciples to use their God-given gifts in the service of God, and to take risks for the sake of the Kingdom of God. These gifts have been seen to include personal abilities, "talents" in the everyday sense, as well as personal wealth. Failure to use one's gifts, the parable suggests, will result in negative judgement.

I dare say that many of us misunderstand or dont fully realise the real essence of talent. For example, an actor's talent is fully expressed when contributed as in a role, in a play or film in a team effort. If an actor uses his or her talent only to define himself or herself to be better than the other actors in a production where all actors are to collaborate to reach the climax of the show, their talent won't take them as far as they would hope. The successful expression of the creative arts is a collaborative team effort.

Think about it, typically in a football game, what happens when a player won't pass the ball because he or she believes can dribble the ball all by themselves to the goal post and score? A football players, or any other person's talent becomes fully realised when they serve others, work with others, in a team, and not just by themselves. Talent is co-operative, it is not selfish.

I think talent is not only selfish but seeks to do , talent lends itself to be valuable, to be useful. Real talent in fact is solution seeking and problem solving. Talent has a role to play in the life of not just the person who possesses it, but also in society at large.

Talented people dont fall on others to define their talent. Their talent is not about them. they dont use their talent to create a superiority complex to make them anymore special than the next person.

Talented people are usually humble. They see their talent as something given to them to be used as a service for others. They know that their talents are to be shared and not kept to protectively to their chest.

Talented people don't feel exceptional, they think the next person can do what they do, if we tried. Talent can be horned.

So, how does a person truly know if he or she is talented at something and what?

True talent is expressed through the sheer joy of doing , not praise, recognition, or validation.

I love what I do. I always have.

When we express our talent we create joy and fulfillment in yourself and for others. You see, happiness comes through you, not only to you.

What are you doing with your talent today ? How are you impacting the people around you, your community?

How are we the citizenry consciously discovering, improving and using our talents to impact our beloved Ghana?

How are we in the creative industry, the media, using our talent in a manner that edifies society?

How are we using the creative arts to socially re- engineer how we do things so we can improve upon ourselves, our communities , our environment and our country largely?

It is heartbreaking, looking around, it appears most people dont take the opportunity to express their talent by living who they are, whatever that may be or take the time, make the effort to put their talent to fruitful uses.

The thing about talent is that when put to fruitfulness it holds the potential to feed you. Talent offers itself to industry.

It is said the world is a stage, each of us have a specific role to play. Let's all search for our particular role and endeavour to play it effectively and none of us will be disappointed.

All fingers are not equal, yet each finger is important. Don't be discouraged or put yoursellf down even if you think other people are more talented at what you do. You have a specific place in this world and no one else is you. No one can give or serve in the unique way that only you can.

So find your role and play it up wherever you may be. Talent is beautiful. Talent is gracious, in that, as we fill the needs of others we simultaneously fulfill our own needs.

I quote Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "The person born with a talent they are meant to use, will find their greatest happiness in using it."

Goethe also said, "He who is and remains true to himself and to others has the most attractive quality of the greatest talent."

How perceive talent?

Discover yours and use it. The world would be a better place for it.

I can't Sit on the Loo without a Book, the World would Stop

Mon, 26 Oct 2020 10:35:56 GMT

“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.” Joseph Addison

I love to read. Reading is a habit I picked from my Dad at an early age. My father had a stack of newspapers and copies of readers digest magazine piled up on the top of the toilet tank.

Growing up I knew that the surface of the toilet tank was for newspapers and readers digests. This is just the way it is.

My father never walked into the washroom without a book in hand.

Sitting on the toilet with nothing to do bored me so somehow, I got into the habit of taking pages out of the newspaper to look at pictures and read the captions. Naturally I progressed from reading captions to actually attempting to read the articles. I read out loud.

Whenever I struggled with a word I could not pronounce I would bring the paper out of the loo when my business was done to ask my mum or Dad, whoever was available to teach me how to pronounce the word.

I soon fell in love with Reader's Digest and left the newspapers well alone. Laughter, the best Medicine had me smitten.

Since my Dad got regular copies I kept up with reading the magazine. To date I remain endeared to it. I learned to read so much that I would often lead class readings at school even when we took turns I was allowed a longer read.

When I meet words on a page an immediate attraction occurs. I become the words and words become me.

I've travelled many places through books over the years.

In my teens, I would be up reading late at night until my mom insisted I turn my bedroom lights off. She sometimes had to enforce this sternly. When a book was good I just could not put it down until I got to very end.

I earned the nickname " bookworm" in high school. It never bothered me. I was caught reading under my desk quite a number of times in class when the teacher was teaching a subject I did not particularly liked. This earned me a few detentions. Nevertheless I was undeterred.

Over the years although I've not had the liberty of time to read as much as I would love to, I've still kept up the habit. Can I ever stop?

Reading books set in different countries and locations has given me knowledge of diverse cultures. This has enabled me to connect both spiritually and emotionally to characters I've encountered in the world of books whose lives I perceive and relate to real people who live.

LM Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables series so empowered me to dare to be myself, to speak my mind and just be. The character Anne who couldn't bare to see her name spelt without an “e” forever remains my bosssom friend.

Another one of the many books whose world I wholely travelled is Magnolia Buildings by Elizabeth Stucley, a book we read for English literature studies in second year of high school. My teacher Mrs Harvey made the book come alive as she led us in the discussion of it.

I've had the opportuinity to travel a few countries. I look forward to travelling the world a bit more. In the meantime, I shall content myself exploring the world through books, learning new ideas, people and cultures.

Loving books as I do, it became a passion to review the books I read. My passion for reviewing books stems from the high school required exercise of writing a summary of the books we read and then rating it.

Finally I've got this blog!

I hope I can engage you with my thoughts as much as countless amazing authors who through their work, have opened up new and exciting worlds to me.

If you are an avid reader like I am, then catch me here once a week and journey with me into the world of books on thoughts from the loo.

Come, on be my reading buddy, let's let loose. My latest read is “I AM THAT”, "a modern spiritual classic", described as a collection of timeless teaching of one of India's greatest sages, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj.

I shall share bits and pieces of it here with you.

Awards have Value

Tue, 06 Oct 2020 17:01:38 GMT

Check indiscriminate establishments of award schemes

The impact value of awards give grounds for Ghana to pay attention to the institution of award schemes. Measures must be put in place to monitor and evaluate as well as serve as a check and balance for the institution of award schemes to prevent repeated occurrences of fake awards that so many otherwise dignified personalities have fallen prey to in a rather not so honorable manner. That even when an award schemes are found lacking in legitimacy is left unpunished, communicates our seemingly general lack of regard for achievement.

The recent incident of the fake “Global Blueprint Excellence Award” associated with Kofi Annan, tied to the United Nations by one Dr. Kwame Owusu Fordjour gives further credence to the need to have a standard and verifiable process in the institution of award schemes in the country.

Awards have value, good ones. They highlight the celebration of the individual who has excelled in their field of endeavour. Its even better and more so when awards come with rewards, such as cash prizes or other things that have monetary value and can be reinvested.

As a Ghanaian national, the worlds most prestigious awards for me starts with "The Order of The Star" award given for outstanding services to the country, with its tricolor (green, yellow, red) ribbon and a star badge of seven thick points, centred with an eagle and a five points star representing divine guidance and protection, embossed with Electa, Martha, Esther, Ruth and Adah, all heroines from the bible.

As citizens, if we give to our country enough for the state to recognise us with the honour of' The Order of The Star” award, we may well lead our country to greater heights.

Wy has Ghana not celebrated "The Order of the Star award itself in all its prestige over the years?

Why has public not celebrated and given due recognition to those who have been honoured by the state to encourage the citizenry to aspire to winning "The order of the star"?

It is necessary for any entity in business, be it the creative arts, media or any field of endeavour to receive recognition of their services, products and performance and none better than the highest award of the land. When an individual or an organisation's effort is recognized with an award, it enables them to set themselves apart from others, colleagues or competitors. It puts them in the limelight which serves as a strategic position for further growth and advancement. Many potential clients, customers and admirers become aware of the brand, this can again result possibly in the attainment of more opportunities on even bigger platforms for the individual or organisation.

People with honorary doctoral degrees, (a degree bestowed as an honour rather than through the completion of academic achievements), are awarded in recognition of their life experiences and achievements, wear the honour so proudly, perhaps even more so than those who attain a doctoral degree through completion of academic works because of what the honorary award connotes.

In recent times, honorary doctoral degrees have become a near fashionable trend and certain personalities have sought after them in order to acquire recognition in their field of endeavour and also raise their status in society.

Thus, bogus and fraudulent individuals and institutions have taken advantage of the scramble for honorary degrees to achieve recognition for themselves so have also sought to bestow honorary degrees on certain personalities whom such institutions deem notable and can help carry their name across for whatever purposes these fraudulent institutions seek to achieve.

Unfortunately such institutions have taken to creating fake award schemes to empower and enrich themselves through sponsorship, the goal never in the interest of the people for whom the supposed awards are targeted.

Awards have value, perhaps not so much the fringe benefits of cash prizes or otherwise but more so, their ability to spur recipients on to work towards even higher and greater goals for the good of all concerned.

To promote the value of wards, Ghana should begin to shed more light on our highest award of the land, " The Order of The Star " that belongs to the people. The last I remember of "The Order of The Star" award was in the year 2000 when former President John Agyekum Kufuor before his leave of office as President of the Republic of Ghana awarded those he thought merited it. I recall at the time that a lot of controversy surrounded a good many of those who were nominated as undeserving. Again, I remember that President Kufuor awarded himself. Questions were asked as to why the former President found it necessary to honour himself. The controversy surrounding some of the nominees and later recipients then, did not erupt from vacuum. Reasons had been given for the concerns raised by a section of the citizenry.

Was is that perhaps there appeared to be no clarity on how the state arrived at the nominees?

Which body or committee sit to make the determination of who deserves to be awarded the highest honour of the land?

Are citizens given an opportunity to make input on who the state recognises as worthy of the highest recognition of the land?

Where is the clarity, transparency and participation in establishing award schemes in the country in general?

Who is deserving and what is the standard criteria for recipients if any?

Awards are uplifting. Ghanaians for our love of accolades and status love to be recognised in society and have a place at the head table. While there's nothing wrong with our love of recognition and appellations, the powers that be must endeavour to do due diligence to the establishment of any award scheme for whatever purpose in order to make it justifiable to give and to receive. Not only justifiable but also honourable if the award is to serve its purpose in value. To be awarded is another charge for the recipient to get bigger and better at his or her game. It is the beginning of another stage to spiral to a higher level.

Awards have value, good ones. Let's not make a mockery of such a great source of inspiration. Returns for good nation building is guaranteed when award schemes are well established. Awards re-enforces a “can do” spirit.

Great efforts beget great results, great results make great impact. Great impacts get recognition and most importantly bting positive change, a constant necessity we all need if we are to reinvent ourselves to become better for our own selves and also for the greater good of society at large.

Awards acknowledge and help raise awareness of the positive contribution individuals and organisations make to society.

They exhibit best practices and serve as a great source of inspiration, enabling tools for industry professionals to help make our country a better place, from what the motivation was to begin with. For these and more reasons Ghana can not afford to turn a blind eye to indiscriminate establishment of fraudulent awards schemes. To do so comes off that the country has no regard for achievement what impacts it makes on us all.

Our Stories, Our Power

Thu, 16 Jun 2016 17:01:32 GMT

Storytelling matters, yet we have so many untold stories about the Ghanaian woman, an everyday hero.

Much of what we hear in the news are stories about political parties and their leadership outlining very broad goals for our future. Often not even critical or attainable.

This must change. We need to shift to stories that are much closer to home. Stories that celebrate inspiring women from all walks of life. We tell stories,that's our job. For us to effectively do our job the impact of the stories we must tell should change the fortunes of women, for good. Which in turn will change the narrative of Ghanaian women and our place in the world.

Stories empower,the kind of stories we tell and the way we tell them has the capacity to fuel and ignite our thinking and step up our unique approach as women to addressing challenges confronting us, pushing us to success. We all know that to be successful is to be powerful.

By our untold stories, we deny ourselves a chance at genuine power to shift paradigm in a country where we, women, are in the majority. The stories we tell must capture, illustrate and reflect the diversity of the lives of women from all walks of life.

Let us then step into the limelight with confidence and begin to tell our untold stories, stories of women building capacity, stories of women initiating and advancing causes, stories of women driving the economy through small scale industries and businesses, stories of women in agriculture, stories of oppression, stories of freedom and true independence,stories that capture the totality of our being.

When I take a look a critical look at my life I'm amazed at just how much content my singular existence alone holds. There is simply too much we are not telling.

From my childhood to my growth into adulthood, my life as a student, my transition into the world of work, my journey as a career woman; my life as a single career woman, as a married career woman, a divorced career woman and again remarried.

There's also my journey and role as a mother and wife, it doesn't end there. I am also a daughter to my aging parents, as well as member of my community, my role goes on and on. All of which hold their own peculiar challenges. I highlight these because there are stories to tell of each role and at each stage of my life. There are stories of failures. successes, significant milestones made in the face of my personal challenges and that of Ghana.

I am particularly interested in also telling our stories of failures, not just of our successes because our stories of failures can also be empowering in the sense that they underscore our strength, our resilience and our ability to pick ourselves up off the ground and continue on our rise to where we are today.

So I urge that we create a storyboard of our lives ,detail them in their entirety and tell our stories our ourselves and on our terms. Let us begin to document our lives in very graphic terms and with no apologies. We are present as women and need to make that presence felt wherever we are and may find ourselves.

As women in the media we must lead the charge of capturing and sharing the totality of our stories. Be it advocating for political, agricultural ,socio-economic, educational, health reforms and all other sectors that impact our well being, progress and success as a group. Because our success would change the narrative of our country, of Africa and its place in the world.

#ReImagineGH2016@webster university. #womeninmedia