Hymns sang when the lights go out

Darkness has a name in Ghana
And it is called Dum-sor.
In Ghana,
Having lights is a bliss
And a rare moment of happiness.

Light is like life
You only enjoy it once
And when you have it,
It's short and inconsequential!

We have embraced living without lights
So much that
We have all forgotten that
There was once a day
When we all were enemies with generators
And we fumed by the noise
It made.

But now generators are our trusted friends
And we have grown to accept the very noise
That made us lose our patience.

Did I forget to tell you that now
The synth made by generators has become a status.
He who is rich is one who makes the most noise
For as long as possible.
Darkness has a sound in Ghana
And its musical instrument is the generator.

Indeed,
These are the dark days in Ghana
Mosquitoes
Have even taken the place of the church choir
And each night
They sing us a hymn to raise our blood pressure up!
Three days later
One suffers from malaria
And its treatment comes at a cost
While we sleep on the bed
Watching our business go down the drain
Because it has become expensive to run our business.
This is the hymn
Sang when the lights go out.

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#TheTruthAboutGhEducation

Kwasi and Kobby were not friends when they were in schools,neither did they consider themselves as enemies. For one and many other things, Kwasi was exactly what Ghana's educational standards desired -- a conformist, a timid person who would agree with everything and sheepishly believed whatever his teachers told him were as (or more) right than the Bible.  He believed that he can never write sonnets as best (or more) as Shakespeare or can he ever be as brilliant (or more) than Einstein or can he ever sing as perfect as Michael Jackson. He believes as he is taught- he can never be better than the people he reads about.

Kobby, on the other hand, was a notorious boy in school, he was not notorious because he smoked or engaged in boisterous activities but unlike the Ghanaian educational standards, he was not a conformist neither was he timid. He didn't believe in conventions and he thus reasoned that if his ancestors molded laws (which society thought as perfect) he could vary it to make it more perfect. Everyone laughed at him and thought him mad because he was just not a conformist. He was at school branded as a stupid dull child and teachers marked him down not because he was less intelligent but he was just not a conformist! This was the letter he wrote that got him sacked:

Dear sir,

Why do you always tell us that we cannot be better than Shakespeare, Isaac Newton, Beethoven or even you. I have realized that our education wants people to wear clothes this way not because of 'reason' but because you are wiser and must obey what you say. We are to believe that by obeying every law and memorizing every line of the text books you make our parents buy, we are intelligent student. No sir, this is not intelligence, as humans, we were created to change the world and everything in it to make life better for us. What are customs if it destroys us than to liberate us. You beat us down till we become conformist. We are to wash your clothes, sing good songs of you and try as much as possible to be in your good books. No sir, we should be allowed to express every fiber in us rather than trying to fit into stereotypes.

                                      Your student

                                       Kobby Nti.

The next day, he was sacked and was branded as a bad boy and student.  Very soon, the whole world bought into the label the school had made him wore and unlike a flower he never bloomed.

Few years down the line, Kwasi and Kobby grew up to be adults. Kwasi became a doctor while Kobby became nobody but he still did not want to be a conformist like everyone.

Kwasi became a regular panelist on radio and instead of talking about how to change Ghana and how we should not let politicians steal our money because they are, well, politicians, he was still the conformist the Ghanaian educational standard had made him be . He preached about we shutting our hears to the truth and making sure the old order progresses.

'After all, this practice had gone on for a long time, we have had dumsor for a long time, we should shut up and 'conform' to it because a good citizen is not to have opposing views to what authorities say. A virtuous citizen is one who always finds way to survive instead of questioning the status quo,' he spoke through the one of the microphones at the radio station

Now, Kobby was walking on the streets of Kumasi with a earpiece on and shouting 'No, we must not let our politicians take us for a ride. We should not be conformist! We must change the rules to benefit us. We are our own destiny. We must liberate ourselves! We were born free!'

Day in and day out, people watch him and laugh. He is a failure, he failed to master the skills of conformity. He is lunatic, even his family deserted him because he would not 'conform'.

Kwasi is #TheTruthAboutGhEducation, we must all be conformist not just to  survive in this turbulent times but to be consider as a normal wise Ghanaian. Close your eyes to corruption and shut your mouth to dumsor because after all no matter what you do or say, things are never going to change!

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#iAMblank (written by J.Y. Frimpong & Ahmed Kofi Kyei Dawoode

I am a white piano

Sitting on roses

Ready to produce the music

That melts the ice in your cup

But

I sit and stare

Because I am blank

And can't produce the music

That makes your heart shine.

I am bleeding out of words

Just to produce a single note that makes your heart blossom

So I close my eyes

Peel my skin

Count my sins

And breathe in

Cause I'm blank

I am a camera

Ready to capture the whole world

In a panorama

But

When those fingers pressed my body

Up and down

I was unable to capture the world

Because I am blank

I am a wall

Contrary to popular beliefs, I do have ears

I hear the desperate cry of the broken hearted

I hear the late night screams

The secrets that you whisper

But I can tell no one

I can only stare back at you unnoticed

Cause I'm blank

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#RedHeels

She is all the beauties of the world
When she walks in those red heels.
With her lips painted red
And her face painted with clay
One would expect that her heart is as pure
Or beautiful, even in pretense!


But no,
The symmetry of her smile
And the pains in her heart
Relate inversely


Behind
those closed doors
Those tight fitting shoes
The story is totally different.


Long ago,
We were taught that
Beautiful girls were like Pocahontas
Whose looks would fight poverty and injustice right in the face.
Of course,
Beauty now fights poverty
But in its place
Is a greater war
Of pain, loneliness and insecurity


The red heels
Are like an empty parcel;
Ever shining,
But vanity!


Nowadays it hurts to be beautiful
For more often than not,
You are in deception over its power.
But like the promises of the Wish master,
The promises beauty offer will finish
And those red heels will be lost
You will be a Cinderella
Looking for her lost shoe
Forever lost in the belly of a whale
Forever
Lost
In the belly
Of
A whale

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#onTHEgram

Life in color 
Smiles in monochrome.
Real life behind a cracked screen 
Fake life captured in a beautifully edited photograph.

The smile in the photo is laconic 
But plants a million jealousies 
In those who press the like button on instagram.

But there is more
Which you may not know.
The phone that captured that flawless photo 
If it had lips would advise its master 
To work hard on his real life 
As how he does on his social media life 

The phone has been a witness to the tears and insecurities
Of the person you want to be. 

If the phone was like the moon 
It would put more light on the dark side of the boy or girl
You want to be on instagram.

It's just Instagram

And what you will see is

The best part of people's life.

Life is more like a video

Than a smiley picture.

Don't be fixated on things that stops and stares at you

For

Real happiness can often not be captured

#onTheGram

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Angels Forever

We were dancing on the clouds
When she threw down rains in revenge.
We were singing in delight 
When she shot me down 
And left me breathless.

I was human and she was an angel 
I remember my eyes were half closed 
And I knew I was dead. 

As I lay down looking at the skies
I saw her ;
Dancing on the clouds
Singing in delight. 
But he came like a whirlwind 
And shot her dead
I saw life desert her.

I looked at my saviour
There was fire in his eyes 
His wings were wrapped around my arms 
And I knew we were angels forever
Forever in flight

We flew to paradise 
And before I realized 
We were angels forever 
Forever in flight.

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Pretense

Our smiles were like roses
Grown on thorns.
We knew we would one day
Pierce the hearts of each other
And the memories we both share
Would be like a waterfall of tears
Washed down on a sandy beach.
With nothing left to be reminded of.




But we chose to find solace in pretense
And each day,
We played along
Dancing and crying
To the sound of our heartbeat.




Time became our enemy
And with distance we all became Hafizes
And allowed tears to became the testament we all memorized.




But deep in my solitude
I prayed and hoped
You will remember me
Even when the moon is on the East.
 I hope and pray
You will place my love on top
And remember that
Our love was a toddler --
So beautiful and innocent --
But it was kwashiorkored and with time
It died in our arms
And we buried it in our hearts
Without bothering to mourn over it.

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REVIEW: Why we need more 'Abanga' in Ghana

The first time I watched Season 01 Episode 01 of “ABANGA – THE NEW GUY” dubbed “German burgar wahala” I was very impressed about it. I actually saved the video to watch it later in order to write a review on it. This movie /short film basically mirrors the kind of society we live in – Ghana is soaked in filth (if I am not exaggerating) and no one seems to care. We often preach cleanliness is next to godliness and practice its very opposite.  

On June 3^rd 2015, Ghana suffered a calamity which saw the death of over 100 people with just an explosion. One of the cause of the disaster, which was later known, was said to be the choked gutters in Accra. Our gutters especially in those the urban areas are chocked generally polythene and plastic products. In Ghana, gutters often serve as a rubbish dump which shouldn’t be so. The June 3^rd disaster opened our eyes to the hard truth that we need to change our attitude about how we disposed off waste. So in my view, this movie series ‘ABANGA – THE NEW GUY’ came in at the right moment.

The movie commences with the titular character, Abanga picking up pieces of waste left by some undisclosed people. Abanga stops after sometime and remarks ‘Enti me mia Ghana paa nie’ (translation: is this really my country Ghana). After doing his bid to get rid of filth, he goes to the main street only to see a German burgar throw an empty bottle to the bush from his private car. Abanga then confronts him and he later begs and promises to pick the bottle he threw away never to repeat the same mistake again.  

The synopsis of this movie is just what is happening in the country, the only difference is that we don’t have any Abanga (or very few Abanga to be ignored). It is highly convenient for someone to buy water from street hawkers and throw the sachet away on the street when one is done with it. We, Ghanaians are responsible for the flirt in our country.

I remember the last time I sat in a car with someone and he did exactly what the German burgar did and when I asked him why he did that, he replied me angrily ‘But isn’t it why I pay tax? The government must use my taxes to clean my filth.’ I was very sad because no matter how hard I tried, this man refused to listen to the voice of reason.  The sad aspect of it all is that he is only one in over twenty million examples we have in this country. To solve this canker, it is imperative that we change this kind of mentality that makes us throw rubbish around. What most people fail to realize is that most politicians live in highly neat and high class residential areas/facilities and we the normal Ghanaians are the ones who will bear the brunt of any effect of the indiscriminate throwing of rubbish. If we are to use all our taxes to clear the flit we make, what money will hence be left for development?

Further, we all know about the impact of movies on our mind. I believe we need more of ‘Abanga’ movies than ‘atopa shaking movies’, ‘sex movies’ and ‘unnecessary farce’ to educate the Ghanaian about the importance of keeping our environment clean.

To end, I believe strongly that if we don’t keep our environment clean, no politician will do it for us. Our environment is ours and if we destroy Ghana with flit, we will have nowhere else to go than to become slaves in other people’s countries.

 

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Volcano (Earth Quake)

 

The night always sing a dirge

While the wind plays the harpsichordist

Stroking lower baritones

To its own delight.

There is more;

The silent nights dance like heathen in the forest

But in all these bizarre nights

I stand and look.

 

There are nights

When I just want to pretend to be mad

Yet this idea seems too expensive to buy.

 

There are also nights

When tears leave me

And in grief there seem no replacement.

It is during these nights that

It becomes more apparent

That water and tears are different

Even when they share the same volume.

 

There are nights

When I feel the world is so surreal

That I rather am too practical

Even to a ghost!

During these nights,

I can walk through walls and tease the ghosts that haunts me

Because I know he can’t penetrate through these walls.

 

There are nights,

When there are not enough letters of the alphabets

To describe the pains in the sinking soul

These are the nights when

My worry is big enough to make the earth quake.

These nights, when my touch can cause a volcano.

 

 

 

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Volcano

 

 

The ground splits.

The air turns caustic;

With every air breathed

Dressed like a poisonous love.

 

All I hear are screaming

And all I see is people dying

Flashing lights

With the skies falling on me.

 

There I remembered

The book of Revelations

And how the old saint said

God was going to take his people away.

 

Sure I am no saint

For I have built my life of deceit

In the eyes of the world

Now it has shut them

Leaving me with nowhere else to look up to

What therefore I am

Is a mere hypocrite

Whose smiles are drenched in lethal roses.

 

But who do I run to

As the earth quakes

With people screaming for help?

 

I look at this moment

Like a kaleidoscope of memories

Swimming through the ocean

Like a leaked venom ready

To strike dead all fishes in the waters.

 

Opulence was the goal

But what shall it therefore profit

A man if he loses his soul

While chasing shadows of ghost?

 

Catharsis!

This is when you get drowned in your volcanic lies

With its molten magma burning you to death

With no hand to lift you up.

 

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Wine

 

Love is like a glass of wine

From the day your lips touch her lid

She strums your heart in delight

And you can't help but dance to her tune.

 

For in the dead of the night

Your senses die

Like you were born into a closed coffin

And when heartbreak comes to open the coffin,

To show you the realities of life,

Your whole world seems like

A funeral of your own

 

But cry not

The whole world is dazed with love's spell.

For every branch you touch,

Every leaf  that tickles your neck,

 

Makes love's noise,

Like that one that drizzles on you

 

The first time you drank love's wine.

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