painting God

No one has ever painted God
But we reckon He is white.
No one has ever hugged a ghost
But we reckon they are pale.
Why does the mind find colours so tempting?



We claim the devil is black
And sadness a grimmer version of black
We claim the sky is blue
And water colourless like innocence
Why do we want to colour around us?



But JYF says
It’s only a true artist who is able to confuse a reader
Into believing that all what his mind thinks of
Is false like the world we live in.



Once we choose to name everything around us
We lose the perfect artist we are like a runaway bus.

Read More

Stay

The first day she left
You held the hourglass in your chest
And allowed the tears to be at sync
With the sands of time.

You said to yourself that
Love was like a novel written on the beach
It is only a matter of time that
The words are washed away.

Why do you still hold your phone in hand
Zooming it to see if her smiles ever spelt betrayal?
Why do you delete the photos only to play the voice notes
She sent you when she said she loved you like how Lucifer loves to lie?

JYF says, don't be like a tragic teardrop
She would have swallowed a volcano for you if she wanted to stay.

Read More

Castles built by ghosts

The first angel came and I set her on fire
Then came demons and monsters
But you came and stayed.
Your face reminded me of castles built by ghosts.


You placed your photos on the walls in my heart
And said to the ghosts I had caged
"I am the one who lives in his head now"
They merely laughed at you.


You only did not know that
Love like castles built by ghosts comes down
At the sound of sad voices.
They are nothing real to hold on to.


JYF says, learn how to love those who make
Your tears their alarm so they'll always wake up to bake you a cake


J.Y. Frimpong

Read More

Faces

The choir is broken into a million pieces like my broken
soul.
My poems remind me of how I fail to make sense
Whenever I am called upon to conduct an anthem
For the marriage of the ghosts and the dark.


How can I conduct the choir
When all I have known is discordant melodies
Splashed on the faces of beasts?
Sshh! There is serenity in hopeless.


If you listen carefully,
You will hear Silence disturbing Noise
Or the wind playing the black and white pearls
In the solitude of nothingness.


JYF says, if we are patient enough
We can be able to see our faces in the wind.

J.Y. Frimpong

Read More

Short Story: REWARD

Kofi was nothing like a gentleman but for the sake of things he had to pretend as one. He was to be a teacher, a profession he was in because his grades somewhat did not qualify him to go to the university like most of his friends. He had no love for the profession, his mother had suggested it to him! He graduated by strictly the mercies of God.

When he finished, he had one hope and that was to be posted to an all girls school. He had heard that in girls’ school, the teachers ‘used’ the girls a lot. It made a lot of sense; having lots of girls crowded in one area meant the probabilities of sleeping with a girl or many was high. Indeed, God was merciful and answered his prayers. If he couldn't attend university, he could at least satisfy the little “organisation” down there.

On the first day at school, he was blinded by curves, breast and buttocks of all sizes. He had a boner alert the whole day and had more than four ejaculations. He slept a happy man, he told himself that that was perhaps his only consolation in life.

His first victim was Beatrice, she was a flirt! She loved throwing herself around every handsome teacher in the school. Getting her to bed was easy, it practically took him three days and some biscuits. He was mortally satisfied with the results. He was so happy but his happiness was cut short when he heard other teachers laugh at him “Na Beatrice ye obaa a yedi no? Obiara edi no bi da.” He was very hurt, he felt like a gigolo (as if he wasn't one already). Then came the second victim - Emily, then the third - Sylvia, the fourth - Bella until he lost count.

He didn't care about the perceptions about him outside. Of course, he heard many birds singing that he was a womanizer but to me having (seemingly) unlimited sex was God’s reward for him not going to the university.

But God is not a fool. He slept with one Ama and died during the act. Ama was afraid to tell anyone that Tikya Kofi had a heart attack when he was pulling out. She lives with the guilt till this day. 

Read More

Short Story: HEALING

He tried to, first, love her, second, compare her to his favourite character in a novel he remembers half the lines and lastly, he tried to make her his all. But he failed. The afternoon he first saw her, he became restless, the afternoon she left, he became restless.

The very first day he saw her, he was with two lusting young fellows who were shouting false sexual escapades. “Oh! That girl? Lef am koraa. I chop her last year koraa ooo. Now ibi like she wan do her body like she be brand new product” Daniel, one of the boys said in a high-pitch tone “I chop her basa basa. She dey even scream for help that night”

“Dannie dier you dey form ooo. But abi you know I chop your cuzon yestee” Peter tried to tease Daniel.

“Abi I don’t give a fuck! Massa, you for use condom oo and chop her well well. Make sure her body come oo na that my cuzon koraa she no dey even pect any bro. Massa chop am”

The two looked at Seth simultaneously obviously expecting him to say something. “Why? What's wrong?” he asked obviously lost as to what they really want.

“Seth dierr! He dey do en body like he bi Roman fada but i hear he spoil pass” Daniel looked at Seth condescendingly.

“I am a virgin” he replied almost in a whisper.

Peter stood up from the short wall they were sitting on and circled Seth as if he had said something extremely unheard of in history.

“Make you commot for there! Wey nonsense you wan blow we this evenin tee?” he neared him “bro, you be seventeen ooo not one and not seven. Even Primary Five kids koraa them chop demabody! Clear off koraa!”

Just then she walked by. At first, Seth gave her no attention, she looked vaguely familiar, all he knew was that she lived close by and that was the extent he wanted to know her.

“Seth, call the girl and flow her say you wan her number.” Daniel whisperrd.

‘But I don’t even know her” he said a bit louder, embarassed and dead sure she heard it.

Peter lowered his voice “Do wild and diet her keke. You for experience life oo and be guy small. See if you small bro koraa hear say you are a virgin koraa he no go call you Bra Seth again ooo.”

He stood up shaking, doubled his footsteps and whispered something inaudible. The girl turned and looked at him frowning.

“What do you want?” she asked sternly almost shouting so that Daniel and Peter could hear it.

“Your number” he stammered.

“And you ---”

“Can you please lower your voice? Please, I am begging you. Just pretend you are giving me a wrong number, I only don't want them to make a mockery of me” he interjected with so much quaker in his voice.

She looked at him and saw paradise. This is what she always dreamt of, to be loved by a boy so handsome and soft. She knew him, in fact, she admired his decency. He was a part of the few boys who did not sag their shorts in the name of fashion. Regardless, she disprove of his association with those boys and wished should they ever go into a relationship, he would stay away from them.

“What is your number?” she asked him

“Zero….two…..zero…..four….six……” he replied carefully mentioning ever number correctly.

She called him, his phone rang and it was her favourite song! How lovely, she smirked.

“Call me” she walked away.

That was how the heartbreak story began. Since he wanted to keep the relationship, he stomached every pain she subjected him to. He really wanted to marry her despite everything but she was a wild horse who wanted not to be tamed. She wanted more of him (which he couldn't provide). Then one day, she left. He never healed till this day and had to settle on alcohol and a promiscuous lifestyle. He often reasoned “If I had had sex with Estelle, she would have never let.”

But she loved him and he also loved him but she was afraid she had made him a womanizer and would cheat on her with other woman and he was afraid he was incapable of loving again 

Read More

Death (co-written by Doyselle)

Death doesn’t come when you expect it
Not when you need it desperately
Or when you wait earnestly for it
I saw death pass by my window
But it wouldn’t come to me
Not even when I taunted it

Death comes when you least expect it
It creeps upon you in the afternoon breeze
When the sky is brightest and the birds cheeriest
It arrives at the dawn of the New Year’s Eve
Just when you step into the kitchen for a glass of water
It swamps up on you in the spring
When the flowers smell freshest and leaving is hardest

I heard a wise man say,
“Don’t expect death-
Don’t revere death-
Don’t fear death-
Do not hate death-
For what comes to you as dread
Is relief to another”

Read More

Curse of the moonlight (co-written by Kwame Botchway)

There is a curse in the shadow
Lurking around this ruins
On which we have built our dreams on.
Every night,
I whistle in dreams.
I see often a blind magician,
Who smiles in cauliflowers
"Build your home on this dream."
And so I would
Only to realise the doors lead to nowhere
The windows open to blockades
And the roof is rained mixed with thunder.
And in the lights behind the lid of our terrified eyes
I whistle again
Only to dream of us dancing again and again in circles
To the heightened laughter of new lovers
For in this ruins in the sky touches this very spot
Where rainbow is nothing than a song.
Even those were built with a broken drum.
The moon came tumbling,
Our silent night wind rumbling
but as always, she whistled into my nightmares,
Our songs will fade and dreams turn often pale
The sun too fail to rise
and the dark shadow lurking in the dark floats our only way out
Full moons are not for the forlorn
neither are silent dawns
‬
But as for us...it's in the pitch dark pits of hideous love we shall thrive ;
In these ruins
I pray and dance in the lights of jealousy.
My eyes are a half moon
My hands are a deserted castle,
My feet, a haunting voice.
In all these,
My dreams is what keeps my heart beating,
Though the streets are silent whistles
Lighted up by ecstatic terror,
All what I have to keep this ruins alive
Is a drug and a dream,
A romance and a worm
A joy and a foe.
My magician, you were last seen in a forgotten smile.

Read More

Short Story: RE-LEARNING

I do not remember when but I know that at about seven years old I was very hardened. , I did not really care and I could not understand why all the young people around me cared. They would constantly remind me that I was a girl, I needed to be soft and prettier. I knew myself as a survivor; ever since I had known myself, I knew I had to fight for myself and what was right.
Once upon a time when I was a baby, I used to sleep on a piece of tattered clothe on the floor and watch old and older men smoke and drink. My father owned a drinking spot, it was in the most obscure places, as to how people got to know and frequented there, I do not know. All what I knew was that life was all about drinking and smoking. When I was older enough, like nine or ten, I started to sell alcoholic drinks and cigarettes to old men. Some of them touched my breast (I did not know what they derived from it but my father looked on as they did), some also had sex with me (I had my first sex when I was eight, it was very painful), I had a feeling my parents knew but I was getting tips from the people who slept with me so I never reported.
At school, I never had too many friends, the few I had drunk and smoke like most men I used to know. When I reached JHS One, every girl I knew started getting into a relationship of some kind. Everyone had this strange belief that I would never get one but I did and this shocked everyone. What shocked them the most was that he was two years older, was in a first class Senior High School, had averagely rich parent, so handsome that he was close to beautiful and on top of it all so quiet and calm. I do not know what attracted him to me but he really loved me.
He thought me how to be soft, apply make up, walk, be beautiful and more importantly self dignity. I no longer slept with older men, I no longer sold drinks in my father's shop, he changed me so much that even the mirror in my house saw me as a stranger. Our relationship lasted for eight years, it ended when he went abroad. At that time, I was in the university and my father was so proud of me. When he left me, I was so depressed that I found solace in older (but this time richer) men and my old behaviour.
I had to re-learn all my old habits just to forget him, I had to re-learn that there was no difference between happiness and sadness. When men are happy they drink when they are sad they drink more. When men are alive they drink, when they die people drink on their behalf.

Read More

#Cinnamon

Your friends never told you 

Mothers are like cinnamon

That their eyes are factories of sugar?

When you were born, 

You tasted like a little war

A little atomic bomb 

Waiting to worsen other wars and burn the world. 

Then she looked at you 

You were crying 

And she said to you

"I can neutralize the poison in your eyes 

With the sugar in mine."

Didn't you ever know that

Your mother's breath tasted like salt?

You walked in and out of the room where she kept patience 

You robbed her of all the pleasures in the room. 

Every night she would cry and say 

"I have to sacrifice

I know I have to sacrifice

I just have to sacrifice" 

But you didn't care because you never saw those tears

But even when she was salt, 

She made your food worthy of being tasted. 

Foolish girl, didn't your friends ever tell you 

That you turn your mother into pepper 

And in order for her to be useful 

She grinded herself into paste 

So you would know that she is still sweet. 

Foolish boy, didn't you ever read 

That you can't build homes on whispers? 

Someone whispered to you 

That she is a witch.

So you walked into her house 

And started a war

Which she never recovered from. 

After everything she has done for you 

You only remember her

As a badly prepared food 

Which you gladly spat out.

Photo Credit: Maame Akua Acheamponmaa Boamah

Read More

Living in shadows

Your father taught you to be a runner and a winner 

So you run into innocent ladies' heart and colonised it. 

Your father taught you how to drink and quit 

So your drank from the thighs of innocent souls 

And quit when you broke their hearts

Like how your self has been broken. 

Be a mason 

Learn how to build your own thoughts. 

Learn how to create your own home 

And stop living in illusions. 

Be your own man 

My dear friend 

Demolish every barriers your father built in your mind 

And fly free as the bird.

Read More

Short Story: Psyber

It seems everybody you meet on the streets is in one way or the other suffering from Psyber.Many are those who have been detained in mental institutions springing up in almost every part of the city. I just came back from one, they call it 'Adom Psyber Clinic.' It is not the glamorous of the psyber institutions around but they said the psychologist in there are good -- or they pretend to be good. I went to see my brother, he has been admitted for what they call 'Hyper PsyberDementia.' His own is serious and I wish he dies. 

Like everyone else, he got his wife through online platforms. These days, people are so glued to their phones that they can't take their 'lives' off it. The days when you had to meet a girl, fall in love with her and propose to her for over six times before she 'considers' you are long gone. Who has that time? He found a girl online, her name was Narnah Efiya (Nana Afia) I think, her shorthand was so intricate, her pictures were fire but her behaviour was volcanic. 

Like all relationships of late, they married online before seeing each other. The first night usually is for sex and you go back to your social media life. You sometimes would not see your partner for months and no one seemed to care. My brother had three kids, each the results of the three times they ever met. They said their relationship was fine but deep down in my brother's heart, it wasn't, he had found a new girl who gave her more than what Narnah Efiya gave him. Her pictures were so beautiful and so pure, her arguments on social media was phenomenon and most importantly, she was the most influential person on social media.

They started flirting around and later my brother divorced Narnah Efiya. It was a heartbreaking moment, my three nephews could no longer go online, they always had constant remainders about their new glamorous stepmother. My favourite nephew, Pharaoh, had to kill himself because he couldn't bear it anymore and my brother didn't even mind, he went to the funeral because he was afraid he was going to lose some friends online. This is when he started getting psyber, he forgot so much about his family. All what he knew was screens and the only family he knew were those he met online. Later, the new girl, Betty left him and he lost it all. He didn't know who he was, he started posting weird messages online.

I found Adom Psyber Clinic online, I actually saw one of their sponsored post on facebook and I contacted them. I paid for all the cost online and they came to take my brother to their facility. I don't know what they do there but whenever I visit him, I see him sitting by a big screen trying to type his life back in shape. I hate labeling but my brother is Psyber like everyone else.

Read More

Ashawo Lane (Part IV)

Skirts raised***
These marks like my shame
Are all over me like a rash.
Hold my breast
Fell my other 'body parts'
For your own amusement!

We are in the time
When tunes played make me erupt like a volcano!

Skirts down *****
Through the sirens,
You hear politicians say
"Vote for me and I will serve you."

Eyes closed*****
What I have learnt from the #AshawoLane
Is a lesson to be sang like a song.

Sighs*****
When politicians say
"I will serve you"
It means
"Vote for me so that you serve me"
Or in my case
"Vote for me so I serve you
And
Eat you up for free."

Well my thighs during these times
Are tables
On which highly inflated contracts
Are signed!

Breathe out.
I'm exhausted already.

P/S: Upon all the poems dubbed #AshawoLane, this one is my favorite and captures the concept I want to put across. Meet me at the #AshawoLane for my detailsSHAWOLALANE

Read More

A girl for KNUST SRC President

To start, I am not a feminist but I respect women.  I believe the world has never been fair to women and sometime our objectification of women is something we have been socialized with when we were young and must never continue.
We have trained women to believe that marriage is the most important. I believe marriage is a source of joy and (to some extent completeness) but lets face the fact, women are not only articles for male satisfaction. A woman, like a man, should be allowed to express whatever she has and want without she being reminded of her 'gender.'
When I heard a lady was standing for SRC president in KNUST, I was very much impressed. I said to myself, this lady, must be and should be a strong woman. I never thought I was going to ever meet her but you see, fate has a funny way of drawing people closer.
We had a discussion on phone and I realised how strong she was. To be honest, whenever we speak on phone, I don't see her as a woman. I see her as someone who is going to contest for SRC president.
When people ask me why I support a lady, I tell them, I support her based on principles. For people who know me, they will attest to the fact that I may be loud on social media but in real life, I am rarely angry. There was a time, I was speaking to this person (I don't know him and I don't still want to know),he made some really disparaging remarks about her and about me even choosing to support a lady when I had a bright career ahead of me. I told him that he is very stupid and if he ever has a daughter she should never train her to be inferior because she's female.
I have no problem with a man being a leader and I have no issue with a female being a leader. My principle is one -- we vote or support people based on issues and competence, I don't even believe that gender is an obstruction to self development.
We shrink women and we run them down but we forget is that we were given birth to by a woman, what we also fail to realise that we are going to marry a woman and if you can't stand a woman ruling you, then your mother has suffered just to give birth to you for you to run her gender down.
During her campaign,she told me of how student we are using our scarce natural resources to train, shout at her with very degrading comments. How can a university student who we agree is a future leader say "A lady de3 apart from sex what is she good for?" Really your mother is only good for sex. I saw to my horror, someone sit down, type on his/her computer a notice that she is stinking because as a woman she menstruates and hence she's dirty? Eei, this is the kind of leaders, Ghanaians are training and yet people believe that students are at the university learning things to help mother Ghana. There's a big difference propaganda and stupidity, until you know it, don't waste your time trying to bring someone down because you know what? Blowing someone candle doesn't make yours brighter.
Seriously,I don't even see what male SRC presidents do when elected that a female SRC president can't do.
Yet, she is a strong woman and has been able to walk through the storm. If you are in KNUST vote for Emmanuella Elipklim Katahena as SRC president, she is number 6 and she will never disappoint you.
JYF

Read More

#AshawoLane

#

If you need me,
I will be at my favorite spot
Striped naked
Ready to give you a taste of my
Brown chocolate.




If you need me,
I will be standing at my favorite lane
With my phantom wanting
Of being with you through the night
Even if that will be the first and the last time
We will ever see each other.




At my favorite lane,
I meet politicians,
I meet the sick
But never have I met
The righteous and pure in heart.




I have built my dreams
In the thighs of women
(Or perhaps others did)
Now it has shut me in it
And I can no longer express
The person I wanted to be
When I was young.




If hope was a bird
I would have been a cage
But since both of us are none
I will just stand here
Strip off my last cloth of self respect
And hope someone sees beyond
My shame.




If you need me,
I will be at the #AshawoLane
It's not so difficult to find me.




On every night
Half of Ghana
Drink on my thighs.




But
In the day,
My shame is all over me
Like a rash.

Read More

IF Hope was an ocean (co-written by Kodwo Hybrid)

If Hope was an ocean 

Ghana would have been a landlocked country! 

I have known Ghana 

And she has known me. 

In all these years we had known each other,

I used to believe like she did 

That she will one day be as beautiful as she was meant to be

But time has told me in a baritone voice that 

It never will

Yet my heart refuses to accept this stark reality.

If hope was a dry land

Ghana would have been a waterlogged region

I have known Ghana

The beautiful seashells on the coast

The evergreen vegetation on the northern belt 

A bundle of joy and humanity rising from the east

The gold and oil dripping from the corners of the western sun

I have known these lands

the same way the soil knows these grounds 

Yet, I'm unable to fix the puzzle 

She's unable to rise from the ashes of all these..

On the crossroads, 

I join the birds to hum 

and sway my head along the gentle melody.

Read More

Serialized Novel: Tabitha 2.2

She couldn’t believe it, she thought it was those random numbers who were calling to make fun of her poor heart, she was about to ask for more information when she saw her husband push his son to the floor and advancing towards her. It then dawned on her that despite the caller not following the right protocol in telling her about the death of her children, the news was true after all. 

She began to see fading images of her world and there she laid on the ground motionless! In her subconscious mind she asked God to explain to her why should a misfortune should happen to her. She laid on the ground and despite she having fainted, tears began to stream from her eyes.

She woke up later and she felt pains in her waist and face. She had to struggle to open her eyes. It felt blocked by some materials, her eyes felt so heavy to open and when she was finally able to open her left eye, she saw that she was in a strange people. She looked around and saw her son, John asleep by her side. She tried lifting her left hand to touch her and she realized that it was much heavier than her left eye. It then began to dawn on her that she was at the hospital and might have been battered up by her husband.

“John! John! John!” she called her son in a suppressed voice because that was all she could manage to voice out.

John jerked up and moved to hold his mother. He like her mother had bruises all over his eyes and looked badly injured at the face.

“Don’t tell me your father did this to us” she said in almost a whisper.

He shook his head and all he could manage to do was to cry. He sat on the door and started weeping. He looked away and took a handkerchief to wipe his tears. He tried to look at his mother again and more tears started streaming down his face. He stood up and paced the room

“That bastard will rot in jail, I promise you that!”

“Noooo, please don’t do this John, you are a good person. Don’t tell me, you let them arrest your father.”

John replied facing the window almost in tears “I will let him pay! We’ve allowed him for years, this was his Waterloo. I’m so sad that my brothers and sister are not alive to see this.”

He broke down on his knees and started to weep uncontrollable. Madam Jane stretched her name towards the direction he was kneeling, she tried to move further but rolled over the bed and fell. She gave a high pitched scream. The door flew open and a nurse entered. She looked at the scene and moved to help Madam Jane get back on the bed. 

“Thank God, you are awake. Your family members want to see you” the nurse spoke.

“They are still here? I thought I made it clear to them that my mother was not seeing them?”

“John, you didn’t do that did you?”

“I did. I don’t want them to bother you. It is that sister of daddy and his three brothers”

“I am sure your mother is of age and can decide whether she wants to see them or not” the nurse replied and headed towards the gate “Should I bide them in?”

“Please do”

John opened his mouth in amusement, he stood there waiting for exactly the right word to say but none of which came to mind. He looked the room as if it had suddenly become too small for him – the room had just a small bed, a small metal rusty metal cabinet which was loaded with foodstuff and assorted items, there was also the ceiling fun whose job only annoyed than to provide comfort!

A knock was heard at the door, “John can you please get the door?”

“If I could I wouldn’t”

“Please come in” Madam Jane tried to shout but it was barely audible even to her own ears.

“Did you say come in?” a voice inquired from outside

“Please do” she tried to scream again

This was a useless adventure because from the weakness of her voice, there was no way it could penetrate behind those thick cement walls, so John stood up and opened the door. The owner of the voice entered and he was shorter and hairier than Mr. Afriyie, to be honest, John didn’t like him either and if he was under duress to choose between him and the devil as an uncle or a father, he would have chosen the latter. 

“Jane, I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep at all? Can you excuse us John?”

“No please”

“John, please be kind and let me and your Uncle privately”

“I wish I could”

“It’s okay he can stay if he wants to”

John smiled and took a seat at the right side of her mother. He looked keenly at his uncle as if he expected him to say something trashy. His hatred for Uncle Paul Afriyie was profound; he came across as a sniveling person and was never satisfied with anything. All his memories of him were of sad one, he gave no gifts and he always had this look which seemed to repel people away. Once, he came to live in their house for a week and he remembered that there was no minute or actually second that he didn’t wish he was gone and never to come back. That was the longest week ever! Nothing could satiate him, he found either the water boiled for him too hot or too cold, we found the fufu either too soft or too hard, the rice too wet or too dry or at best to smoky. The day that he finally left, he felt that a heavy load had been lifted of their house, it was same for everybody – even his father who had lived with him for all his life! 

“Jane, your husband is in Prison”

“I just learnt so”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“My mother is not a prison officer!”

Paul turned and looked at his nephew in an angry face. He slowly started to stand up from his seat, he was trembling ad he looked like he was about o strike his nephew. John equally stood up in a similar fashion.

Read More

Serialized novel: Tabitha 2.1

ACCRA – 18th December, 2013: It so happens that fortune does not smile at all on some people. It also happens that disasters do happen for a reason. This disaster was terrible, it was painful, it left a question in our heart and mouth, and it made us wonder whether God existed at all

This was the very question, Mr. Afriyie, asked himself over and over again. He stood in front of four coffins and each coffin laid his own loins. He kept on asking himself how he could survive but life has this funny way of letting people who want to die live and let those who want to live die. Four of his five children died in a terrible action over the weekend and by a general consensus, his family wanted the children buried quickly because the more they protracted it, the bitter it was going to be for Mr. Afriyie. Five days after the incident, the children; three boys and a girl were laid to rest at his wife’s hometown as customs demanded. 

Before, he had vowed heaven and Earth to kill his wife because according to him, she was the cause of their misfortune. Her offence? She had called her children who were having fun at a friend’s party to come home for dinner. But as childish as people saw it, they couldn’t complain. Indeed, Mrs. Afriyie popularly called Madam Jane had no spirit of clairvoyance to predict the future. On that faithful 13th, which will forever be a holiday in the lives of these couples, the couples had fought over how liberal Madam Jane was with their children.

According to Francis Afriyie, Jane was always busy with work and had no time for her children. Life to her was all about work and work and even wondered how many times she had spent with her children. But her last child, John came to the defense to his mother and told his father to also stay home and look after them and stop chasing girls. This obviously did not go down well with Francis, who found this outpour as extremely offensive and derogating. It took the intervention of their rich next door neighbor, Mr. Sey, to quench the flame.

It was with this heated argument that the four children; Kwabena, Richard, Abigail and Clement, who met their untimely death took their mother’s car and went straight to a friend’s party because they didn’t want to witness the countless debate and quarrel between their parents. 

Madam Jane was only pleased that they did because she herself was tired of this unnecessary diatribe from her husband. She always found in appalling, he disliked one talking about his family, he was always annoyed, pyrophobic and irrational at times. At times, she wonders why she married him at all. 

“John, come to me and let me ask you a question”

John walked briskly to her mother who was half smiling, half crying.

“Mother! You are not crying over what daddy said, are you?

“No”

“Now, you are lying to me” he frowned

“Have I ever been a bad mother?”

“Not the least” he drew closer to her “you know it’s always daddy! Every problem we face in this house is always him. At times, I feel so ashamed to call him my daddy – “

“But he is, you have no option than to love him”

“It’s the most painful aspect of it all. I have no option. If I did, I wouldn’t think for a second on it but you do and I’m wondering why you haven’t”

“It’s not as easy as you think bec – “ 

“Mummy, it’s so easy, file for a divorce. I am eighteen and I have seen the abuse he has subjected you to. What more reason do you need again? I have known daddy for 18 years. I have seen enough of his disrespect to spare. And to your earlier question, you are not a bad mother, I don’t know how and why you sound be counted as one”

“Hmmmmm”

“Mummy what? You are not a bad mother. Just ignore the idiosyncrasies of daddy!” 

“Don’t talk about your father like that!”

“I will talk to him whatever way I want, he treats you badly enough to merit mercy from me!” John roared and entered his room.

She began to pace the room like she was waiting for a familiar stranger to come and console her but it began to hit her. It was not a stranger she was expecting but a feeling she had no explanation her. She began to shake all over, well she muttered to herself “Probably some malaria”

“John, a minute”

John walked over to her room wearing only his boxers.

“Sweet Jesus! Haven’t I told you not to expose yourself like this in the house?”

“Was naked, would you have been okay with I had come out like that?”

“I feel hot, I equally feel warm, are you feeling same”

John looked at his mother weirdly and asked “Are you pregnant?”

Madam Jane fidgeting with her phone replied “If I was, I would have known”

“Mother, then you are ill”

“I presume so but I can’t tell but I have this funny feeling that something is just not okay”

“Of course you are not okay”

Just then, he heard the horns of Mr. Afriyie blaring out loudly in front of the gate.

“Good Lord, your father is here early, can you go and open the gates? I don’t feel so alright”

“In these boxers?”

“Please do, I don’t want your father getting angry.

As John left the room, Madam Jane’s phone rang. He looked at a screen and saw an unknown number calling. She felt reluctant in picking it but she picked up. “Is this Mrs. Afriyie?”

“Sorry but your four children just had an accident and died!”

She couldn’t believe it, she thought it was those random numbers who were calling to make fun of her poor heart, she was about to ask for more information when she saw her husband push his son to the floor and advancing towards her. It then dawned on her that despite the caller not following the right protocol in telling her about the death of her children, the news was true after all.

Read More

Serialized Novel: Tabitha 1.2

The gatemen let go of the pregnant woman and pushed the door open and they all entered. The room was a bit sizeable and heavily furnished with the accoutrements, the doctor helped the women to put the pregnant woman on the bed and told them to wait for him outside. Because they couldn’t comprehend English, the gateman explained to them.

“The white man said go outside and wait for him”. They sheepishly obeyed and began pacing the corridor. Suddenly, they could hear the pregnant woman screaming and then paced the corridor muttering words of encourage.
From the corridor, they saw afar a bright light and Abena Hannah, Auntie Ceci’s friend tapped her on the back and told her to look at it.
“It must be the witches of Abease Buipe” Auntie Ceci muttered.
“I agree with you sister, all what they do is to destroy people! May Odomankoma punish them for their wickedness!”
But the lights was appearing nearer and nearer with each passing second and they began to sense danger. It was three men approaching with full speed holding torches in their arms. Auntie Cecirecognized one of the men, he was Yaa Sophia’s, the pregnant woman’s husband. She had never seen him before but the description she had given her before fitted one of the men perfectly: dark, broad-shouldered, short, had lots of hair on his arms, legs and chest and also had pale eyes which could be mistaken as red. 
The hospital was built on a hill with the church next to it. These two buildings overlooked the rest of the facilities so it was very easy to see anyone who is approaching Rick-by. They had reached the entrance of the facility and were chanting war songs, songs of murder and sacrifice. Simultaneously, the cry of a baby was heard and the doctor came out quickly for he had heard some noise.
“What is happening?” he asked but since the gateman had gone to his post, he couldn’t get anyone to translate it to for him. He woke a sleeping nurse at post to come and begged her to tell her what was happening because he couldn’t understand the language of the women. 
“They say that it’s the people of the woman who just delivered that are coming?”
“For what?” 
“What did the woman do?” the nurse asked the women.
Auntie Ceci replied “They have charged her for adultery madam so they want to kill her and the child too.”
“They said that per the custom of the land, the child and the mother is to be killed.”
“That is barbaric! The child has no hand in whatever sin the woman has committed should we even assume she is even guilty” 
“What’s he saying?” they inquired but the nurse ignored them.
“Tell the security guards to stop them” he ordered.
“Doc, it’s impossible, from how they are marching with flame in their hands, it’s very dangerous, and you know how barbaric these people can be. I suggest that we give them the baby and the mother”
The women looked at the nurse and the doctor’s face obviously in oblivion as to what they were discussing.
“Please tell us what he’s saying madam nurse” Auntie Ceci said shaking.
The nurse looked at them angrily, “Well take the baby and the mother away. We can show you a route you can use to avoid them. So much trouble for helping you filthy people.” 
They rushed into the room and took the baby and came out of the room. “Please show us the way” they said panicking. 
“What of the mother?” the nurse asked in vernacular.
“We can’t carry her, she’s too heavy and too tired, and if we choose to save her too we might be caught. If we are caught we will get burnt also” 
“What are they saying?”
“They said, they have to leave the woman here because she’s too heavy, they are choosing to save the child only.”
“What are they saying?”
“Doc, I will explain what they are saying to you later”
“So then what do we tell them?”
“That the child”, aunty Ceci replied “is dead”
“What if they ask of the body?”
“Maame Nurse, you can tell them a lie or something, look over the window, they are coming fast, if you are going to subject us to this question and answer regime, we will all be dead in a few seconds.”
“Nurse, can you please tell me what they are saying? Where’s the gateman, he can help me withsome translation here.”
Within minutes, the gateman arrived panting and showing signs of tiredness. “Docta, we have to give em they babe or they well kirl us.”
“I will do no such thing! Show the women the exist!  The woman is too tired for her to escape, I shall face the barbarians, they can do me no harm me; I am white.”
The woman still stood there panting and not understanding a single syllabi being discussed.
“But doc” Philip protested.
“I mean now!”
“Please follow me” Philip told the women in twi and they obeyed him. They walked past the doctor and opened the room next to the delivery room and escaped.
Just as the door closed, three figures emerged holding flames looking so ready to murder anyone who crosses them, they approached the white doctor and the mulato nurse and circled them amidst singing of songs of murder. 
“Obroni, bring the child before we kill you
Obroni, bring the child before we burn this place down
Obroni, bring the woman ooo
Obroni, that woman is an abomination
Whoever touches her should be burnt
“Nurse! What are they singing about?”
“They said, we should give them the child or the baby or else we will get burnt. They also claim we have touched them so we have to be killed.”



The doctor gave a high pitched laughter and for once the music died down. The three men did not know what made the doctor laugh but from the looks on the nurse’s face, they could tell them she was telling no joke and that she was scared her own safety.
“Tell them that they would do no such thing and that because of what they have said they are having none of what they have said”
Instantly, people starting rushing to the hospital because they had heard people singing. The doors of the hospital burst opened and it was followed by five other white men and Philip.
“What is happening here?”
“Apparently, they are barbarians!” the doctor replied “they want me to give them a child and a mother who just delivered”
“Dr. Short, are you not aware that you are not to treat any black patient here. Aren’t you aware of the rules and regulations of this hospital?”
“I am totally aware but the dictates of my profession is in such a way that it doesn’t permit me to follow your rules and regulations” the doctor replied.
“So what do they want?” one of the white men said looking at the black men in disgust. 
“The woman and her child” Dr Short replied
“What are you waiting for Dr. Short? Give them what they want?”
“What are they saying?” one of the black men replied.
“I will explain everything to you people” Philip whispered to them in Twi.
“I can’t give either the baby or the mother to them?”
“Why is that?” 
“You see, the baby is dead and the mother is a bit too heavy and too sick to be handed to them”
“That shouldn’t be part of our concern, should it? Hand them over to them whether dead or alive, they know what to do”
“You see, things aren’t that easy. The baby has been taken away by family members to be buried”
“Dr. Short, why do I have this feeling you are hiding something”
“Obroni, give us the baby and the mother before we burn you people!” the short hairy man addressed “for it is our custom. It must be obeyed”
Philip replied them “It hasn’t come to this please, just go home, we will bring you the baby and mother”
“Philip, what are they saying?”
“They would burn this hospital if we don’t give in to them.” He replied one of the white men.
“Utterly nonsense! Black skin, black mind, big head full of stupidity. Tell them to move out” he advanced to Dr. Short “and you doc we shall get to the root of this whole issue!” 
“Please you have to leaf hiya oo, please come tomollow, we will settle dzi mata” he pleaded to the three men seeking to destroy the hospital. 
“Agya Appiah, tell them that if they don’t give us the child and the baby, we are not leaving her. We will burn this hospital” 
“Kwasi Boateng, don’t you dare call me by my barbaric name! Call me Philip. Why do black people find it difficult to understand anything?”
“But Agya Appiah” Kwasi Boateng replied snidely “you aren’t even fairer than us?”
“Philip, can you for once tell me what they are saying?” Dr. Short replied
“Docta, I tell you err’thin dze pipple are saying right away”
“Now, you are making no sense” Dr. Short replied
“Doctor, I mean wait to let dze piple go, I will tell you what it are talking.”
The white men in the room nodded; they felt it was advisable to let Philip handle the situation. He had proven time and time again to be capable in handling issues involving black folks. Oncehe sat in the judicial council with the white and helped in solving an issue involving labor unrest involving the black workers. He considered himself more white than black, hence that was why he changed his name from Agya Appiah to Philip – he felt that black race was a foolish one to be born to. He was one of the only few blacks in this town who could speak English. Though his English was extremely worse, he was the best in the town. He was thirty three and the whites had decided to send him to London to polish up his English so that he would be a part of their central administration. He was the most paid black in the community and he found extreme solace in this fact.
“Agya Appiah, well we are”
“Yaw Asamaoh, don’t call me Agya Appiah! I made that known to Kwasi Boateng. Now take Agyapong and get out of this hospital. You’ve brought enough filth in it already” he cut them short.
“Agya, is that us that you are shouting out” Agyapong advanced on Philip and Philip quickly brushed him off.
“Yaw! Kwasi! Let’s go. Today, we are going to show him something” and they left with the flames in their hands.
They watched them as they advanced towards the door angrily and whispering among themselves. Indeed, all was over so as they thought. 
“Dr. this should be the last time, this incidence should…..”
They heard a loud scream from outside. They all rushed outside, only to see the Yaw, Kwasi and Agyapong running away. 
“Daddy, I’m on fire!”
Dr. Short run quickly to his bungalow. “Nooo, Emile!” 
His daughter was on the ground and she was burning together with the grass. “Someone help me” she screamed.
All the people in the other bungalow run from their rooms to save this lady girl. Some were carrying buckets of water, others held in their hands fire extinguisher. 
“Catch those men!” Dr. Short ordered. Philip runs to catch them but they are nowhere to be seen. 
That night was the longest night ever witnessed in Abease-Buipe. No one slept, all what was heard were screams from Rick-be, the whole population was alive, mourning the death of Emile Short. She was burnt beyond redemption and Dr. Short sat at the entrance of the hospital weeping tears never seen before. It looked like an alienation, he uses his knowledge to save people of their ailment but he couldn’t save his only daughter. The other white people gathered around him in a quest to console him but he refused bluntly to be consoled. He should have never brought her daughter to Ghana. Was it even his fault? She refused to live with her auntie in London, she wanted to be close with her father, her mentor, her inspiration, her everything. Now, she was dead, she was gone, she had sighed her last, breathed her last and the last words she said before giving up the ghost was so reverberating in the spheres of his mind “Daddy, please save me.”

Twilight came and it was time for revenge. The white marched to the main township of Abease-Buipe armed to the teeth. They set fire to every hut they saw, every grass they smiled at them, every dust that begged, every tree that looked sorrowful and every face that begged for mercy. They burnt everything. Some escaped to the next town, some died but most importantly, all the white men left Rick-by, Philip didn’t, he stayed back to take care of the ruins. He knew in his heart that one day they would come back and the old glory of Rick-be would be greatly restored. That one day, they would come back and his dreams of living in London, a city he had heard so much good tales of would come to past. But no, they never did. He never became a Londoner. The grasses in Rick-be invited snakes and other wild animals. It became a forest, a memento, a shrine of tears. Interestingly no one knew the name of this woman who because of her had caused this misfortune, the three men were never found again. Some said they had gone to Kumasi, others said Tamale, other postulated that they were now in Sekondi, others said Accra but mostly importantly, every knew that 3rd March was a black day and yes the gods were vindicated, the chief priest was right and Abease-Buipe was never the same ever ever again.
04:52    No comments
The gatemen let go of the pregnant woman and pushed the door open and they all entered. The room was a bit sizeable and heavily furnished with the accoutrements, the doctor helped the women to put the pregnant woman on the bed and told them to wait for him outside. Because they couldn’t comprehend English, the gateman explained to them.
“The white man said go outside and wait for him”. They sheepishly obeyed and began pacing the corridor. Suddenly, they could hear the pregnant woman screaming and then paced the corridor muttering words of encourage.
From the corridor, they saw afar a bright light and Abena Hannah, Auntie Ceci’s friend tapped her on the back and told her to look at it.
“It must be the witches of Abease Buipe” Auntie Ceci muttered.
“I agree with you sister, all what they do is to destroy people! May Odomankoma punish them for their wickedness!”
But the lights was appearing nearer and nearer with each passing second and they began to sense danger. It was three men approaching with full speed holding torches in their arms. Auntie Cecirecognized one of the men, he was Yaa Sophia’s, the pregnant woman’s husband. She had never seen him before but the description she had given her before fitted one of the men perfected: dark, broad-shouldered, short, had lots of hair on his arms, legs and chest and also had pale eyes which could be mistaken as red. 
The hospital was built on a hill with the church next to it. These two buildings overlooked the rest of the facilities so it was very easy to see anyone who is approaching Rick-by. They had reached the entrance of the facility and were chanting war songs, songs of murder and sacrifice. Simultaneously, the cry of a baby was heard and the doctor came out quickly for he had heard some noise.
“What is happening?” he asked but since the gateman had gone to his post, he couldn’t get anyone to translate it to for him. He woke a sleeping nurse at post to come and begged her to tell her what was happening because he couldn’t understand the language of the women. 
“They say that it’s the people of the woman who just delivered that are coming?”
“For what?” 
“What did the woman do?” the nurse asked the women.
Auntie Ceci replied “They have charged her for adultery madam so they want to kill her and the child too.”
“They said that per the custom of the land, the child and the mother is to be killed.”
“That is barbaric! The child has no hand in whatever sin the woman has committed should we even assume she is even guilty” 
“What’s he saying?” they inquired but the nurse ignored them.
“Tell the security guards to stop them” he ordered.
“Doc, it’s impossible, from how they are marching with flame in their hands, it’s very dangerous, and you know how barbaric these people can be. I suggest that we give them the baby and the mother”
The women looked at the nurse and the doctor’s face obviously in oblivion as to what they were discussing.
“Please tell us what he’s saying madam nurse” Auntie Ceci said shaking.
The nurse looked at them angrily, “Well take the baby and the mother away. We can show you a route you can use to avoid them. So much trouble for helping you filthy people.” 
They rushed into the room and took the baby and came out of the room. “Please show us the way” they said panicking. 
“What of the mother?” the nurse asked in vernacular.
“We can’t carry her, she’s too heavy and too tired, and if we choose to save her too we might be caught. If we are caught we will get burnt also” 
“What are they saying?”
“They said, they have to leave the woman here because she’s too heavy, they are choosing to save the child only.”
“What are they saying?”
“Doc, I will explain what they are saying to you later”
“So then what do we tell them?”
“That the child”, aunty Ceci replied “is dead”
“What if they ask of the body?”
“Maame Nurse, you can tell them a lie or something, look over the window, they are coming fast, if you are going to subject us to this question and answer regime, we will all be dead in a few seconds.”
“Nurse, can you please tell me what they are saying? Where’s the gateman, he can help me withsome translation here.”
Within minutes, the gateman arrived panting and showing signs of tiredness. “Docta, we have to give em they babe or they well kirl us.”
“I will do no such thing! Show the women the exist!  The woman is too tired for her to escape, I shall face the barbarians, they can do me no harm me; I am white.”
The woman still stood there panting and not understanding a single syllabi being discussed.
“But doc” Philip protested.
“I mean now!”
“Please follow me” Philip told the women in twi and they obeyed him. They walked past the doctor and opened the room next to the delivery room and escaped.
Just as the door closed, three figures emerged holding flames looking so ready to murder anyone who crosses them, they approached the white doctor and the mulato nurse and circled them amidst singing of songs of murder. 
“Obroni, bring the child before we kill you
Obroni, bring the child before we burn this place down
Obroni, bring the woman ooo
Obroni, that woman is an abomination
Whoever touches her should be burnt
“Nurse! What are they singing about?”
“They said, we should give them the child or the baby or else we will get burnt. They also claim we have touched them so we have to be killed.”



The doctor gave a high pitched laughter and for once the music died down. The three men did not know what made the doctor laugh but from the looks on the nurse’s face, they could tell them she was telling no joke and that she was scared her own safety.
“Tell them that they would do no such thing and that because of what they have said they are having none of what they have said”
Instantly, people starting rushing to the hospital because they had heard people singing. The doors of the hospital burst opened and it was followed by five other white men and Philip.
“What is happening here?”
“Apparently, they are barbarians!” the doctor replied “they want me to give them a child and a mother who just delivered”
“Dr. Short, are you not aware that you are not to treat any black patient here. Aren’t you aware of the rules and regulations of this hospital?”
“I am totally aware but the dictates of my profession is in such a way that it doesn’t permit me to follow your rules and regulations” the doctor replied.
“So what do they want?” one of the white men said looking at the black men in disgust. 
“The woman and her child” Dr Short replied
“What are you waiting for Dr. Short? Give them what they want?”
“What are they saying?” one of the black men replied.
“I will explain everything to you people” Philip whispered to them in Twi.
“I can’t give either the baby or the mother to them?”
“Why is that?” 
“You see, the baby is dead and the mother is a bit too heavy and too sick to be handed to them”
“That shouldn’t be part of our concern, should it? Hand them over to them whether dead or alive, they know what to do”
“You see, things aren’t that easy. The baby has been taken away by family members to be buried”
“Dr. Short, why do I have this feeling you are hiding something”
“Obroni, give us the baby and the mother before we burn you people!” the short hairy man addressed “for it is our custom. It must be obeyed”
Philip replied them “It hasn’t come to this please, just go home, we will bring you the baby and mother”
“Philip, what are they saying?”
“They would burn this hospital if we don’t give in to them.” He replied one of the white men.
“Utterly nonsense! Black skin, black mind, big head full of stupidity. Tell them to move out” he advanced to Dr. Short “and you doc we shall get to the root of this whole issue!” 
“Please you have to leaf hiya oo, please come tomollow, we will settle dzi mata” he pleaded to the three men seeking to destroy the hospital. 
“Agya Appiah, tell them that if they don’t give us the child and the baby, we are not leaving her. We will burn this hospital” 
“Kwasi Boateng, don’t you dare call me by my barbaric name! Call me Philip. Why do black people find it difficult to understand anything?”
“But Agya Appiah” Kwasi Boateng replied snidely “you aren’t even fairer than us?”
“Philip, can you for once tell me what they are saying?” Dr. Short replied
“Docta, I tell you err’thin dze pipple are saying right away”
“Now, you are making no sense” Dr. Short replied
“Doctor, I mean wait to let dze piple go, I will tell you what it are talking.”
The white men in the room nodded; they felt it was advisable to let Philip handle the situation. He had proven time and time again to be capable in handling issues involving black folks. Oncehe sat in the judicial council with the white and helped in solving an issue involving labor unrest involving the black workers. He considered himself more white than black, hence that was why he changed his name from Agya Appiah to Philip – he felt that black race was a foolish one to be born to. He was one of the only few blacks in this town who could speak English. Though his English was extremely worse, he was the best in the town. He was thirty three and the whites had decided to send him to London to polish up his English so that he would be a part of their central administration. He was the most paid black in the community and he found extreme solace in this fact.
“Agya Appiah, well we are”
“Yaw Asamaoh, don’t call me Agya Appiah! I made that known to Kwasi Boateng. Now take Agyapong and get out of this hospital. You’ve brought enough filth in it already” he cut them short.
“Agya, is that us that you are shouting out” Agyapong advanced on Philip and Philip quickly brushed him off.
“Yaw! Kwasi! Let’s go. Today, we are going to show him something” and they left with the flames in their hands.
They watched them as they advanced towards the door angrily and whispering among themselves. Indeed, all was over so as they thought. 
“Dr. this should be the last time, this incidence should…..”
They heard a loud scream from outside. They all rushed outside, only to see the Yaw, Kwasi and Agyapong running away. 
“Daddy, I’m on fire!”
Dr. Short run quickly to his bungalow. “Nooo, Emile!” 
His daughter was on the ground and she was burning together with the grass. “Someone help me” she screamed.
All the people in the other bungalow run from their rooms to save this lady girl. Some were carrying buckets of water, others held in their hands fire extinguisher. 
“Catch those men!” Dr. Short ordered. Philip runs to catch them but they are nowhere to be seen. 
That night was the longest night ever witnessed in Abease-Buipe. No one slept, all what was heard were screams from Rick-be, the whole population was alive, mourning the death of Emile Short. She was burnt beyond redemption and Dr. Short sat at the entrance of the hospital weeping tears never seen before. It looked like an alienation, he uses his knowledge to save people of their ailment but he couldn’t save his only daughter. The other white people gathered around him in a quest to console him but he refused bluntly to be consoled. He should have never brought her daughter to Ghana. Was it even his fault? She refused to live with her auntie in London, she wanted to be close with her father, her mentor, her inspiration, her everything. Now, she was dead, she was gone, she had sighed her last, breathed her last and the last words she said before giving up the ghost was so reverberating in the spheres of his mind “Daddy, please save me.”

Twilight came and it was time for revenge. The white marched to the main township of Abease-Buipe armed to the teeth. They set fire to every hut they saw, every grass they smiled at them, every dust that begged, every tree that looked sorrowful and every face that begged for mercy. They burnt everything. Some escaped to the next town, some died but most importantly, all the white men left Rick-by, Philip didn’t, he stayed back to take care of the ruins. He knew in his heart that one day they would come back and the old glory of Rick-be would be greatly restored. That one day, they would come back and his dreams of living in London, a city he had heard so much good tales of would come to past. But no, they never did. He never became a Londoner. The grasses in Rick-be invited snakes and other wild animals. It became a forest, a memento, a shrine of tears. Interestingly no one knew the name of this woman who because of her had caused this misfortune, the three men were never found again. Some said they had gone to Kumasi, others said Tamale, other postulated that they were now in Sekondi, others said Accra but mostly importantly, every knew that 3rd March was a black day and yes the gods were vindicated, the chief priest was right and Abease-Buipe was never the same ever ever again.

Read More