WHEN THE LAW CHASES

The boldness of darkness in deceptive acquisition
Is a mystic and hypocritical existence
Which abhors the steps of light
Even in far distances
It’s a little wonder legs turn three
Moving without support for the third
Chests grow mounds
Hoping with no straps for decorum
When the law chases

II
Wigs are rigs in these digs
For they easily come off
Leaving mess on exhibition
And baldness to the knocks of cold
And the burning heat of the sun
It’s a little wonder stooging knees
Turn laughing teeth
When traps of the law fetches stool games
Ah! Norms Are Sticks
When the law chases!

III
You know there’d be fans
There’d be tongues calling for bans
They’d be minds mum with fear
And hearts delighted to share
Still there’d be fence sitters
Few sympathisers
Oh let’s see the bright side
No fecal matter sits in caught bellies
When the law chases

IV
Shame for honour
Rags for respect
Hate for love
Kin for stranger
Friends turn enemies
Crushes start crashing
When the law chases

V
Ghosts of the past can turn clothes into ropes
Shadows into canes
An extended hand into a bat
A tree into a cudgel
Little sounds into guns
Reaching for guilty hearts
When the law chases
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 23/05/2018

HIDDEN SCARS (Crazy Stanzas)

As existence of breezes
Is seen in the dance of a tree
I wish you dance in my hair or body
For all to see
You hidden monsters in my arteries!
You surely make me a walking corpse
In a walking stalk
Not that you care

II
Haven’t I looked for plasters to you seal?
If only sentimentalism could be counted in drops in drunken bottles!
If only pain can be counted in drops of tears!
If only hurts can walk rightly through complaints and bitterness!
If only clouds on my sky could be seen
In the realm of my melancholy!
If only these storms in my heart
Could tear its mask of internalism!
If only the carvings of life’s painful times
Could decorate this skin for a visible exhibition!
If only faking smiles could turn over
The tides of slippery shame in these veins!
If only abusing work would poison these internal typhoons!!!
I might look the part of life’s rightful garbage

III
But here I stand
I fly looking like a bee
An ant fighting elephants in this deceitful grass called earth
Here I am
Life’s taunt in my haunted self
A soul cursing outbody sealed with talents
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 18, 2018

THROUGH THIS WINDOW

Pain is looking at a difference, in molestation, afar
Devastation is seeing your reflection in the bins of others
Sadness is seeing minds trapped by slavery
And tracing their roots to yours
Bitterness is knowing it all with a helplessness
That imprisons your confidence
Brewing unshed tears in the sky of your heart

II
When chains arrested muscles of mine
And dragged them like subdued monsters
Through their own virgin fields
On paths made by their own,
Shadows of my mother’s mother had no place in matter
Yet here I stand
Eyes in these tiny windows in this space
Viewing the harvest of brutality
Planted centuries back

III
Who would have thought trapped games could break free
Plant roots to grow stems thicker than their hunters
To a point of jealousy,
Fear of overthrow
To carve acts of rebellion
And plans of erasing bonds carved by decomposed souls?

IV
It breaks this heart to see the colour of her clothes
Smeared in violence
In hopelessness
In crime
In death
In submission to naughts
With the few on shelves mostly bleached to blend
Or made door mats to silence
While their lost roots lie in riches untapped
Wallowing through seas of poverty
Leaving bright thoughts in melancholy
Watching through windows of mock indifference
Oh! The irony of odds!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 16, 2018

THE HUMAN COOKS (Celebrating Mothers)

The starting point of every race
Births successes
The rising point of the sun
Births light
Just as palm trees have no useless parts
Mothers, even in graves, shelter our souls
In spiritual protection
Who is without a mother’s is
Or, in sad terms, a mother’s was?

II
Like hens, they struggle to hatch
Like eagles, they are vigilant in protection
Like horses, they are ever ready to serve
Like donkeys, they seek to carry burdens of their seeds
Even if their backs break
Even chameleons can’t change their colours
As mothers do to protect their young
So who can deflate the air in a mother’s happy baloon?

III
Beings who humanity owe by default!
Humans without whom humans are naught!
Bridges of life and death!
The gentle balm on sores of childhood!
The unfailing mattresses of falls of teen-aging!
The great masseuse on pains of adulthood!
The comforting chests in fears of death!
Who can light his roof
And stand aloof without a struggle?

IV
Goddesses of this globe!
Beautiful hearts in brave but slender enclaves!!
Beings who share everything, including heartbeats!!!
The best pots on fires of life!!!
We hail your existence!!!
Celebrate your creation!!!
Pamper your sore feet which never tire in running for our sake!!!
If love were rivers
We would gift you seas in your worship
May Odomankomah keep you
Even as you wish for the best for yours
On your day of felicitations and thanksgiving
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 13, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

ELECTRIFYING TOUCHES

If structures could turn see-throughs
In these cold powered days
Many would find what stands true
In this raining May

II
Would be fun to watch
As lightening hugs get sticky
With eyes magnetizing eyes
Lips calling in other lips
Veins in arms sending hands on exploratory hunt
For pleasures abominable
In leisures of weathers so culpable

III
Lands get lost thinking love in digging
Only to wake to catches in feelings of rigging
Catches with spoons and plates
On future tables unplanned
How does it do it?
The electrifying touches which clean consciousness?
Oh cold! You’re so bold!
How does your old trick always get sold
Leaving lasses in prisons of responsibilities?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 11/05/2018

DAY WAKES

Now the day is awake
The sky is serving light
All that hands will take
Will base on a heart so bright

II
I hope that for life’s sake
We work with all our might
Like bread in an oven bake
Our ends will shine so bright

III
We have to burdens shake
And face our fearsome fright
And dodge all that is fake
To climb all best’s height
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 6, 2018

Chieff Moomin and his Wɔgbɛ Jɛkɛ Group Comes to Tamale

After three years of entertaining, thrilling and educating patrons in Accra, Ghana’s biggest most spectacular theatre production, Wogbɛ Jɛkɛ: Our Journey, comes to Tamale. With an amazing team of 100 cast and crew, this is a once in a lifetime experience you and your family and friends shouldn’t miss.
Come and witness the history of Ghana, from Naa Gbewaa to Nana Addo, unravel before you in the most breathtaking performance of drama, music, dance, poetry and even some comedy.
Happening on Saturday 5th and Sunday 6th May at the new Auditorium of the UDS International Conference Center.

Time is 8pm Only For Saturday Show. There will be two Shows on Sunday at 3pm and 8pm.

Rate: 50ghc VIP, 30ghc Regular and 20ghc for students ( call 0245238248)
WogbeJeke is created by Chief Moomen, Proudly Sponsored by Key Soap- the best tradition goes on. Also supported by the Zylofon Arts Fund and The Ghana Culture Forum.

AYEKOOO (Honouring Workers)

In the heat and cold
To the tired and bold
Who worked and sold
And love to hold
All seams of works to mould
Our precious mother earth to fold
Closure, just in aim for gold
When cock’s call at dawn
I give you a standing ovation to say “ayekooo!”

II
From holders to tenders of pens,
Drummers to farmers in dens
Makers to tenders like hens
Advocates to runners in turns
All hearts which never cower to bends
With legs which suffer the burns
Yes, bows and arrows which target the earns
Clashers to sorters and enemies turned friends
Oh all hands, in earth management, like hens
I give you a standing ovation to say “Ayekoo!”

III
I pray for balm for your callouses
Rest for your tiredness
And for your efforts, crowns of successes
For you are the real athletes
Running to keep hearts beating
You are the real geniuses, making to keep blood running
You are the real planters, working to keep hunger caged
You surely are the real shapers, teaching to keep minds thinking
Oh real drummers, working to keep souls dancing
You real carvers, fixing to keep mouths laughing
Real preachers, teaching to keep feet on right paths
You whose batons continue in this race called life
I give you a standing ovation, to say Ayekoo!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 1, 2018

THE WEED THEN KILLER

It slowly rose like smoke
Making eyes teary and red
Baking minds like loaves for their feed
Then became the weed of love
Making many kowtow with their all
Presenting their successes and their falls
It has now graduated to opium and cocaine combined
Building addicts out of thinkers

II
High on this drug-like serve
Many a reigns face ruins
High on this troubled flaw
Many a coffers cry emptiness
High on this monstrous flaw
Many a leg cry on knees
High on this bitter flaw
Many a mind sit in dozing

III
Catch your miracle
Shed your pride
Catch your travel
Be no patriot
Catch your breakthrough
Jump like a fool
Catch fertility
Crawl on your knees
Grab your loved one
Drain your blood
Get your fame
Just be the donkey
Catch your wealth
Be a cushion
Slay your enemy
Just pay a fine
If only the metaphor of ridiculousness
Were models on stages in the eyes of men
And fashion on minds of women
This mind will have no need
To paint this worship as the deviant congregant
In this hounding church
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 29, 2018

DRESS NOT THE EARTH IN YOUR MESS

Imagine your feet on no solid ground
Your ears, no tree in sound
Imagine your shelter in a hanging
And life without farming
Now follow the reasoning

II
Dress not the earth in your mess
Even if you are a pig thinking it a sty
For you live in the borrowed
And should leave it unsoiled
Oh be a thinker!

III
Rob not the earth in your greed
Even if, like an ingrate, you forget your feet’s support
The body’s bones are its pillars
The earth’s minerals are its support
Oh be a lover!

IV
Create no murderous monsters in your revenge
Even if your mortality promises an unshaken immortality
For the future belongs not to your ghosts
And the present, like a realm, is shared
So be decorous!

VI
Feed no waters with your rear phlegm
For if any pickaxe can dig throats
And pluck hearts in a hurry
It definitely wears the heels of thirst
Oh be a carer!

V
The earth is our hand that feeds
Our cup that quenches our thirst
Our medicine in our sicknesses
Our wools to clothe
Our place of rest
Our bind to leave behind
So dress not the earth in your mess
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 21, 2018

UNDER THESE SHEETS

Just as socks are made for feet
Hats are made for heads
This night, my apparel is beadly
My walk, a gracious call in passion’s voice
For our touches will be sparkly
Under these sheets

II
Clear your eyes
For every step will be a language
Every shake pointing to treasures hidden beneath pores
Clear your ears
Because every sound will be a code
Codes only your concentration can decode

III
From complains to blames
Requests to stories
Differences to references
Let’s all banish
To sure the cure of needs that seek to feed
Under these sheets

IV
Prepare to sight to track
Touch to spark
Massage to mark
Embrace to embark
On journeys beyond the moon
This night, under these sheets
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April, 21, 2018

Photo Credit: Google pics

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 32 (18+)

NTWANU. Content takes precedence over branding but the branding which hosted my Ntwanu was scary. He had turned into a white man. Every part of his body clearly showed he was white. There was no trace of a black man on him, yet he spoke like my Ntwanu, held me like my Ntwanu, acted like my Ntwanu. There were so many questions running through my mind. Questions for which I knew might be difficult for him to answer. But as I calmed, I realized he wanted the mute me to ask those questions. “Not here” a voice in my head echoed.
“You look tired and even sick. And what is worse, your cartel will be looking for you even at the airport to take you out, so I will take you to a secret location and find a way to get you out of here.”
A part of me felt safe, the other part felt stupid. He mentioning I was in a cartel made me feel like a junkie. He gave me a pill to take to help with any pain, fed me water in his usually caring way and tucked me well in the seat to sleep. As the vehicle moved, so did I into a very deep and refreshing sleep.
I woke up on a queen size bed in a very cold room. The air-conditioning was a bit too much for me but some spots on my body burned to relegate the cold I felt to the background. I opened my eyes to see Ntwanu scratching the parts of my skin that had the rashes and smearing some ointment on them. There was an injection kit there so I realized he had injected me but I still did not utter a word. I just looked at him, maybe with a flinch here and there.
“Sorry I woke you. Just tending to your rashes. Looks serious. Wouldn’t want that flawless skin to be destroyed by these demons. Well, you will need to do your morning rituals and eat. You’ve not had anything to eat for almost three days now”.
The look on my face might have told him I did not believe him. But the clock on the wall told me he was telling the truth. I had slept for almost three days. I felt weak but definitely refreshed. He showed me to a fancy bathroom, gave me a toothbrush with toothpaste on its soft brittles and massaged my legs as I brushed. It did feel so good. I felt like I was in heaven but didn’t feel like talking with the angel. Bathing was hellish. Every part of my skin which was scratched burned like fire. But distance had brought shyness between Ntwanu and I so I kept my cool. In any way, that pain was the least I had felt. I even knew the taste of a bullet. Food was refreshing. From the orange juice to the toast, the cocoa drink to the omelette, everything tasted superb.
He switched on the television to see my picture fully on screen, wanted for murder. I was startled but he was not. Ntwanu chuckled and was about to change the channel when I told him to stop, my first word to him. He did leave it there, came back to sit with me, held me, planted a kiss on my forehead and told me he expected them to do that. According to him, they were just trying to fish me out because I knew too much. Alejandro, according to him, might be in a torturous mode just to break him to get you. He quickly added that Alejandro could not be broken because he did not know him and did not know where we were. We were somewhere eight hours from my station. Everything scared me. I felt horrible thinking I had brought harm to Alejandro. He was a bastard but definitely one of my best buddies who made me sane.
“How do I get out of this place then?” I asked almost in a whisper.
“Easy. Just trust me. I will go to town and get some few things done. I will be back before you know it. I will get you out of here in a week.”
The tone of that scarred me. Sounded more like a dangerous orgy. Watching television bored me to death, especially when my wanted advert paraded my pictures on several channels, so I switched off the television and went ahead to explore the place. It was a beautiful place. An ultra modern kitchen, a very large hall, several decorated rooms and added bathrooms, a classy gymnasium but there was no window and no door leading out. There was absolutely no one there but myself. I felt imprisoned. Luckily, Ntwanu came early and I felt safe again.
“There seems to be no windows nor doors leading out.” He laughed for the first time and even his teeth were different but beautifully arranged.
“Do you realize this is the first real question you’ve asked me? I was beginning to wonder what had happened to my fierce girl. We are underground. This is the safest place for you to recuperate your strength. And don’t worry about leaving here, I will change you so much even your cartel members won’t know you.”
“I was not into drugs, you know?” I said getting angry for nothing. “I am not saying you were into drugs honey. I was almost always around you. I travelled with you here as one of your girls but got out my own way. I even served you before in that house. I know all that you did and know you had nothing to do with the drugs part. But that organization is a drug cartel, the biggest in Mexico.”
I started shivering, then my mind told me whatever I feared was not in the room at that particular point in time so I should definitely relax. Ntwanu climbed into the bed besides me after supper. Funny enough, I didn’t feel like doing anything with him and he didn’t try anything either. He just looked at me as I pretended to watch television. It was a new feeling. There were bubbles of flutters in my heart, in my stomach, maybe even in my soul but my head told me how dangerous he was and warned me to be careful with him.
Three days were all I needed to be fresh and new again. My skin healed so fast, my strength was back. The gym showed how great I had gotten. I had gotten used to he changing like a chameleon. Ntwanu took off all my clothes after my bathroom rituals and started putting something soft on my body. It felt sticky but cool. After he was done with whatever he was doing, I felt like a new person. Standing in that mirror, I looked like a US citizen with my hair and all. He transformed me like a pro and I was in awe. He took a picture and applied for my passport through someone. Within two hours, my passport was ready, together with all the cards I needed as a US citizen, including my green card. Then he took me out through a lift. The lift brought us into a two bedroom apartment which looked like one built in the sixties. Although neatly decorated, it did not have a fragment of the luxury that its underground had. He showed me to the place and I marvelled. Nothing showed it had an underground but every part of that building was like an escalator. All it took to work was its very complex language or sign codes.
We rode freely and went to the airport. We had nine hours to board so decided to tour the place. We went as far as my girls’ dormitory and none was able to identify me. I asked for one of the girls I knew had travelled and mentioned one of her lesbian friends. I was emboldened after that. I laughed heartily after we left there to the pleasure of Ntwanu who asked that I called him “Manor Karl”. My name had changed into Vivian Vevoda. The flight to the US was okay and I felt relieved that I was not detected hiding within myself. Winter welcomed us to my horror and caged us in Ntwanu’s room for days. No clothes could make me feel better. Even the lighted chimney felt like an ice place. So on the second day, I tiptoed from the bathroom and blindfolded him from behind. He raised his hands in mock surrender and slowly turned to face me leaving my hands around his neck, bended small so that he looked right into my face. He was him and I was me. I saw a thousand beautiful flowers and felt the best air, yet I was gasping. I was completely mesmerized and he knew it. I waited for a while to have him kiss me but he just kept on looking at me and so I gently pressed my lips onto his as he closed his eyes drawing me in. Anticipation was turning into reality as passions simmered in our love’s pot.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

SHEs IN TROUSERS

Culture is like a cloth
Washed for its stains only to develop other taints
Time has travelled to see it merged like “nsaasaawa”
Making living confusing in acceptables
Making flaws contorting in reprimands
Time has washed the myths of trousers
Now shes freely live therein

II
Days which picked females like banku
And dipped them into okro sauces of men
To be swallowed and defecated at want
Days which built shadows in men for shes to live in
Soundlessly
At best putting on clothes of unsung heroines
Have almost parked their vehicles

III
Since minds in fem-lands were explored
And platinums down to bronze were discovered
Since strength from soul stood on stages of hardship
From the spirit of motherhood
Since light and darkness confessed their fears in talents of lasses
Many have broken free
From tails of stale digging pleasure for leisure
Bragging rights to treasure
Gifting shame without measure
So who coughed “gyantraness” for all shes in this golden coast?

IV
Lucy Quist to Patience Akyianu
Maidie Arkutu to Wear Ghana’s Agyemang
From Justice Theodora Wood to Naana Opoku Agyemang
Dr. Ama Ata Aidoo to Dr. Mrs. Nana
Ama Pokua Arthur
And all the numerous women in the power trousers of forcefulness
Live in this realm where Obaa Yaa Asantewaa led men to war in colonial times
So who spat the gross spittle of prostitution in adultererhood
On all the fine brains with clothes of decency of this land?

V
Tell me not that patriarchy paved this thought of insult
For real decency was a thread
Don’t tell tales of the weakness of a society
For many a lass live on their pockets
Don’t tell me that an existence of an anomaly
Is right to call for shame for real vectors
Common sense speaks in the sentence “Choose your words carefully”
But what even happened to the moral of the proverb
“Wash not thy dirty linen in public”?
Do you know the fecal matter in that of mockers?

VI
It is a sad day
When a woman definitely feels the pain of childbirth
From the nonsense that walked through the mouth
Of a nine moon traveller schooled to go wrong
A thought stamped non entity without a pounding hole
Bagging all including her travelled womb
In a gutter sack of naughts
Selling us out in a print on minds of some ignoramuses
Whose brains will forever keep our tag
In annoying reminders
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2018

THROUGH THIS STORM

Here I am
A hair on this blessed earth
With weak roots
Being played by winds like a piece of kite in the sky
And watched by eyes as to how far I can go

II
Here I am
In a fearful storm
Blinded by the dust of pain
Shamed by the clouds of need
Pelted with thunders of directions
To several places at once
With far eyes watching for how far I can go

III
Here I am
A naught in a sought
A caught for a bought
All by life’s strong hands in a tight hold
Suffocation calling for my termination
Jeers of antagonists strengthening my yearning for survival
But the spirit keeps blowing my womb
Making my body ask how far I can go

IV
Unexplainable are these tides
Torturous are the continuous waves
Whatever ropes tie me hither
I pray it holds for I need to see the end of this road
For all to see how far I can go
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 31 (18+)

No matter your state, a shift will show you the importance of being grateful for any state you’re in. The first and last Mexican prison I tasted was hellish, no other word to describe it. I realized I was immediately sent to prison with no trial. After the metal gates were shut, a very repugnant stench rose from the corner to meet my nostrils in a not so friendly welcome. Over eighteen people shared a space definitely meant for, at most, three people. Every space was taken except the small part around the toilet filled hole which acted king of the room. Before I could balance myself in the heat, I was pushed into that fecal matter left-shoulder in. What was worse, there was no water to at least clean myself and no one to talk to. My broken Spanish could not get through the angry faces which obviously hated having a black monster in their presence.
I was in that hellish prison for a week, spat upon, booted, and sometimes defecated on for lack of space. Standing and sleeping mostly and thinking it not worth it to fight in the heat. It was a blessing any time I could find myself a better spot around the toilet area to sit and sleep. I contracted a skin infection, a day after being in that hell hole just as all the people there. Eating was annoyingly horrid as the food was nothing to write home about. I was fortunate to get under a shower only twice in the entire week. Funny, with time, the stench of the faeces became familiar and not as repulsive as it first was; talking about familiarity breeding acceptance. The only thing I could not get used to was sexual abuse under the shower. Those rash infested ladies were always brutal in their “pounce on and finger”. I feared the hidden traces of sicknesses in their bloodstreams anytime it happened to me but tried to act within reasoning to avoid unnecessary attention. I felt a commotion in the place on the night I turned a week in the hole, opened my eyes to see a hand pulling my dehydrated and lean-struck self from behind out. The curses that followed me needed no translator to be understood.
Alejandro looked at me with a sad face and I could see he was struggling not to make me feel like the garbage in my intolerant perfume. All the prison wardens used their handkerchiefs to cover their nostrils but he stood there looking at me. After a while, he gave them some money and took me home. Not a word was said to me on the drive back. I stayed in my bathroom for over three hours, soaking and scrubbing, wiping and drying only to start all over again. When I finally went back to my room, Alejandro was standing and looking through the window with his back to me. It was the first time I realized there was a window in my room. Of course, one with metal nets that none could pass through. He ordered me to go and eat but I declined and jumped into bed. He went out and brought me food on a tray and practically forced me to eat.
“You can’t stay here any longer, I am afraid Miss Davids. Your life will be in danger if the bosses get to hear what happened.” He paused for a while and continued. “You shouldn’t have taken that girl to the hospital. She made it and cleared your name but no one cared enough to release you from that prison. We had to eliminate her because she would have posed a threat to us. They found out she was a prostitute. In fact, the man who hired her had to be taken out too. He chewed her, you know what I mean?”
I didn’t hear anything after he said that. Naki was chewed by a man like a dog? What was his deal? Chewing for pleasure? I was glad he was dead but feared the number of people out there with his traits. “Would prostitutes ever be safe?”, “Is God right to have given us vaginas?”, “How relative is pleasure to have men seek it in the most annoyingly shocking and diverse ways?”, “What is the thin line between pleasure and pain to have it fall into hurting almost all the time?”, “Will the surviving ever survive in this cruel business?” These thoughts run through my mind until Alejandro snapped his fingers to get my attention. “You will be sent to America before those up there get a wind of this. I am sure they’ll know soon. I am doing this because I care about you. Your flight leaves in four hours and I have your security intact until then. Catch some sleep. I will stay here with you.”
He climbed in beside me and I felt safe and slept. Something woke me up only to see a masked figure holding a gun and getting ready to shoot me. I held Alejandro and pulled him to the floor. He waking and pulling his gun was instant and instinctive. He shot three times and killed the two sent to “liquidate” me. He then helped me up, held my hands and pulled me straight out into another car which pulled outside the house. He asked that I left and told me he sure would come to the US to see me but needed to clear something before. He left me in the hands of a familiarly unfamiliar person. One whom I felt I knew but couldn’t remember where or how I knew him. One I had known had been around me for a long time but had no evidence. One who was to protect me until I reached my destination.
The man kept looking at me from the mirror inside the car and I felt uncomfortable. He must have sensed my discomfort even after riding for over an hour and changing cars twice. “Baby girl you don’t need to look so scared. You know I’ll never hurt you? I will always protect you.” I definitely knew that voice and I wasn’t crazy. It was real, I wasn’t dreaming, God! I thought of how possible it was to have experienced that. I looked at him and started weeping uncontrollably. He stopped the car, hopped in beside me and took me into his arms. “You know what your tears do to me. Baby please stop it”. It was as if those two sentences asked me to intensify my weeping. And so I wept in his arms, arms I perfectly fitted into, arms of…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 10, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

WHEN THE OKRO ACTS CUCUMBER

A pen never acts manly on an oily sheet
And true, both okro and cucumber may share a knife
But should never see themselves as equals
For the slime in the former makes it a cook and eat
And the plainness of the latter makes it an instant chop
Well, an “anyhow you want it” chop
If you have an okro, know your hole
Hide not in waist-coverers to brag like a cucumber

II
Four walls never aid in shutting mouths of holes
A whisper today travels into the future
And spreads instantly like the “foosh” of a stomach
Whose eggs and milk and beans and others
Team up for a battle of the rots
And sneaks out in public places

III
Know your okro and seal your bragging tool
A hunter’s game in slaughter is normal
A game slaughtering a hunter is juicy news of fun and laughter
Be not the latter if your gun can only fire like a toothpick
Know your okro and play its game
Act no cucumber to land a timber hole
He who has ears…
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 5, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

AND SHALL SHEs GROW WITH SCARS?

As wisdom drowns amidst time’s wheels

And integrity gets tied to death’s heels

Many are the ills that like eels walk in heels

On talking tiles mocking our helplessness

Weird huh?

II

Gone they seem, those days when caterpillars were peacefully left to turn butterflies

And tadpoles were left grow into frogs

Now very young fruits are plucked and forced to ripe

By heat instead of the blend of sunlight, air and rains

Bringing negative oddity to the fore

Costing the future honourable seats

Where have our consciences travelled to?

III

We now live like angry winds

Destroying our future in seconds celebrations of the now

We now live like army worms

Eating away the grains to save hunger in barns

Shall we eat ourselves in survival of the fittest?

We are self carnivores

Chewing ourselves from feet up

If only our future would show itself in an hour movie

To let us know what will be when our backs are turned

We might learn to pay more heed

That shes may ripe with no scars

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 4, 2018

DEAR GOSSIP OF MY LIFE

I write this letter in mock reverence of your time
You whose mountains of problems hang thorns and stumps
On the trees of your dreams
Making the closure of your eyes nightmarish
And the mattress of your bed hellish
Yet find time to look keenly at my strides
With eagle eyes when your hawk eyes fail
In reportage like an international reporter with no known portfolio
If only you knew freelancing gossips receive no pay checks!!!

II
I hold my earthenware just as you do
If the phantom legs you find dining in mine irks you so
Try looking for royal hands to dine in yours
Odomankomah is not a partial being
That is why you have yours and I have mine
Be no ostrich in a giraffe wannabe
For I am no course with a rewarding certificate

Make me not your sky

For my brightness might you blind

And my fertile rains might you drown

III
If the junction of my waist
Is the catalyst for my climb
By all means do plant a station near yours
To get busy to at least see you in your eyes instead of my reflection by the unstable sun
For my behind’s attraction can make you a hopeless addict
My work’s impact may make you a bitter tool
Which would end up working up fools to you destroy
You are too expensive to employ yourself as my reader

III
None will serve you songs of thanksgiving
For serving me on palatable plates to mouths through ears
You know even kola nuts of reference
Put in guns of “who told you?”
And directed at you may even cause you to dodge
Like an unskilled goalkeeper being threatened by a knife-wielding ball
Do I deserve such an honour of stardom on the stage of your priceless time?

IV
I am no seed to be planted into your harvest
No savings to yield for you huge dividends
No business to get you huge profits
No skill to get you fame
No food to feed your hunger
No water to quench your thirst
No doll for your fulfilling entertainment
And certainly no visa to get you a green card
Into hearts of others
I am simply a you in trying lifedom
So please take a cue
For this little time I used to look back at you
May definitely be all that I can spare
After feeling the unharming fires of your rumours
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 3, 2018

FOR AUTISM AWARENESS

Blessed are the pure in spirit

They are like the cleanest water in a tormenting desert

They surely will be there for all

Discriminate against none

And hate not on any

It is a day to wire bells of empathy for a lifetime

II

He who said broken seeds feed not

Has never known hunger

He who said different seeds need no space

Is like a heavy wall caging development in archaism

For difference is the creator’s art of specialization

It is a day to tattoo reasoning on working minds

III

Let’s let our hearts see in feeling

Let’s let our minds mind in mending

Let’s let our hands handle in helping

For a different seed today may be the biggest tree tomorrow

And in autism lies special talents begging to be harnessed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 2, 2018

THE TURNING CROSS

Days have travelled to a weary feet

And now pulls its shocking seat

Of time with all its surprises

Of change so strange in range

II

The cross’ significance sit in revered history

Of the old and few committed

But serve as archaic artifact for many

Whose pleasures outweigh biblical interest

III

Drunkenness in coital worship

Replace prayers in thankful worship

Shaking the grounds of celebrations in old accoutrements

Of soul harvesting as the young dance to tunes of their hearts

IV

The cross is now turning in loss

The boss of meditation now gross

On relegation

Oh how humid the winds of change!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia @ April 1, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 30 (18+)

He gave him our price and he paid like a natural mutual understanding between them. Alejandro pushed me out and into the waiting vehicle. We headed off obviously to my house and I was baffled at his calm demeanour. I wanted the corpse to be properly buried in the least to lay the poor girl to rest somehow but he said it wasn’t necessary. I could not hold back my tears as I thought of her family back home. She was my responsibility and should not be dead, not through that horrible means. I thought of the pain she must have suffered before her untimely death seeing as a snake was forced into her vagina. It couldn’t have been funny in the least. I would have had a cardiac arrest too and probably felt the lowest point in the word “useless”. Alejandro couldn’t stop laughing. He believed the way I punched the Minister was funny to my chagrin. I saw a man who cared not about the death of another human being and queried him but he simply shrugged: “Death is now a normal thing to me, especially if it is a worker. They die everyday and sometimes you must kill them to stay safe. Death is for everybody so why bother?” His Spaniard tone had an air of truth that not only baffled but also annoyed me.
I felt a whirl of anger rise from the bottom of my stomach, take hold of my head, forcing me to attack him. We nearly landed in an accident. He forced the vehicle to a stop, blocked his face as I punched any part my fists fell until my mind showed me the video of the cruel murder of a white man. One who died by my hands, skin peeled, knife pierced uncountable times, words taunted and haunted for hours and eventually butchered. Ken; the brutish man who degraded me to a sex mate for a dog! I stopped abruptly and cried louder. A voice told me I had a good reason to kill that bastard and I was in no way as corny and ritualistic as that Mexican Minister. But another reminded me that death was death after all. Alejandro sensed my confusion and multiplied hurts and held my calmed and miserable self. It dawned on me that we as humans are quick to judge but conscience is sometimes slow to remind, and when it reminds, we feel the sweat of dirt, unwholesomeness, silliness pouring down the souls of our bodies thereby angering us into self blame. The pain did not subside for me, the fact that it happened made me wish for a place to bury the ordeal after all, many deeds of humans to fellow humans can be deemed murderous too. It just was a matter of relativity.
I sulked at home for three days, woke up and looked for my phone to check porn sites for humans who sleep with reptiles, something I had never done, and I was frighteningly surprised. Some women actually feel pleasure in sleeping with snakes. Your shock is as valid as mine was. I stared at my computer screen for hours and told myself “I truly have seen it all this time”. As I was still contemplating the doability of the act with fearsome goosebumps all over my skin, a call came through my emergency line.
I rushed to one of the girls’ dormitories only to find Nako, one of my girls, dumped naked with her breasts and vagina each partly chewed. I was terrified. I asked for a blanket, gathered her in it and rushed her to the hospital without thinking. She was rushed to the theatre as soon as we entered. Nako had tried to tell me something before collapsing on our way to the hospital but failed to make even a whisper audible. I wondered what could have happened to her; animal bites? Some canker? A curse? An infection? I run out of guesses.
I felt a tap on my shoulders as I impatiently waited after eleven hours to hear some news from the doctors, turned and saw six policemen breathing down at me. They told me I was under arrest but I didn’t know what it was for and before I could say anything, or ask anything, I was pinned to the ground like a destructive mad person or a hardened criminal. The dragging on the bare ground into their terribly hardened-prison-like vehicle was not as frustrating and painful as the Spanish they spoke which made no sense to me. I felt like a Mexican garbage left for days with spoilt slimy foods therein. I wanted to scream after asking them to tell me in English what my crime was to no avail but restrained myself and got shut into the van with no windows. It was a very roasting long drive to the station.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March, 2018.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

BE LET TO GROW (AGAINST CHILD MARRIAGES)

There are many fruits which fail to mature
On their mother trees
Mama, I don’t want to be one of such fruit
I need to be sheltered when storms break
Need to be covered when the rains come in
Need to be pampered when good air visits
And to feel the matured company
When the sun sets in
Oh papa, I want to be ripe before the pluck

II
For poverty sake
Mama, give me not out like a token for a feed
For I can mature and be the pot whose water never dries out
For debts sake papa give me not out as your once peace of mind
For I can be that wealth
The future prepares for you
For societal tongues sake
Uncle give me not out as a clearance of gossip
For I can be the star of this home
When my future is left for my studies

III
I am in no rush for a crash
I am the flower who wishes to bloom into beauty
My future is in my hands and not in the hands of any boy or man
Until a job finds me in a good salary
Marriage is the vehicle I wish not to enter
So help me mama
Help me papa
Help me uncle
Help me auntie
For I am a child
And marriage is a cloth meant for adults
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 27, 2018

JERKS OF HEARTBREAK

There are clawed fingers
Which scratches the core of the heart of loving souls
Plucking out happiness and planting sadness
Leaving the future bleak and eyes red

II
They come in their horrid varieties
Slow or aggressive
And take over the senses in helpless lenses
Take over muscles in fearful pulls
Take over shame with spittle so lame
Forcing teeth to bite their bosom friend; tongue
Contorting bodies until their arrests end
To the shame of the innocent model

III
Not contagious they say
But burns out friendships like fires in dry hay
Able to be handled
But squeezes out young brains like water in a towel
Not a spirit
But harms hearts like the harmattan’s touch on fertile trees
Those blessed not to have witnessed might comfortably chuckle but
Dear epilepsy, you are one of death’s most vile agent
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 26, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 29 (18+)

Taking a bull by the horns requires a brave person who stops not to think about the consequences, a risk taker who fears not death. I called Alejandro and put it straight to him: “I found some of the cocaine on the girls. Thank you for using me to advance your drug use. It might interest you to know that one of the girls is at the hospital with tests being conducted after abusing some. So prepare as I won’t go down alone” There was a moment of silence before he cleared his throat and attempted to speak without success. “I believe you think I am foolish for sending me on this errand without a heads up right?” Immediately, I heard a protest, “No, not foolish Miss Davids. I don’t really know what you are talking about considering this is a call anyone can tap into. I only sent you with girls to model shoes, if something bad happened, I am changing your flight so come back today and let’s see what went wrong. I was simply taken aback but not fooled. Of course foreign intelligence would definitely get to know what we spoke about. What was I thinking? I felt a bit stupid but not regretful after thinking it over.
We rescheduled our flight to the next day to head back to Mexico and used the whole day to tour around few places. Nthambi rested with a home nurse Alejandro arranged. It made me see the vast nature and intense influence of the organization I was in, or should I say the drug cartel being fronted by an escort agency? I knew I had to get out but how to became my problem. I had heard stories about people being killed for wanting out of cartels like that. Though almost all the girls were oblivious to what was happening and just thought the fashion week had been cancelled, I tried my hardest to enjoy to no avail.
Going through the security checks was a hurdle for me. I got frightened at the least beep only to find out it was as a result of a phone or an ear ring or something like that. Not until we touched at the Aeropuerto Internacional Benito Juárez, did I breathe well. Alejandro did not come to see me that day and I didn’t know where to find him. It dawned on me that if I was caught in any of their shady deals, there was no way I could implicate them if I wanted. Consuelo made all my favourite dishes but my appetite was neither here nor there. I just laid in bed and called Issidro to take care of the girls as I was not feeling well. On the third day, Alejandro came with a straight face and I laid there with an equally straight face looking at him. I had not bothered to call him after the first call to tell him we had arrived safely.
“Miss Davids, this is the last time you will have a conversation like that on telephone. I was disappointed in you.” He waited for me to say something but I didn’t. I just looked at him making him fidget for a while before changing tactics. “Miss Davids, the cartel is a big business beyond you and I and there is nothing we can do about it. Do you think mere prostitution is what keeps you comfortable in this apartment? “
“Yes. I thought it was mere prostitution that kept me this comfortable. Don’t I know the amount my girls make per session and don’t I know you give them only ten percent of their earnings and pocket the remaining 90%?”
He just looked at me hard and pulled me from the bed into a standing position, my face in his face as he bowed to make it so and said amidst his drumming teeth “You will not frustrate me, you definitely will not frustrate me. You will do as I tell you to save yourself and me”. Before I could react to that he was passionately forcing a kiss on my lips, one I definitely could not reject. The force with which I yielded surprised even me. I realised I had starved myself for long. There was nothing gentle about his moves but surprisingly I loved every bit of it. He bit me anywhere he laid his mouth and every pain harvested goosebumbs on my skin. He loudly suckled my need-filled breasts and turned me aggressively over and over again, yet I enjoyed every bit of it. I was wet before he visited my temple to worship and it was pleasurable. Even he was shocked that I was enjoying myself more than him. He was a strong man and he did gain my respect although I had love bites all over my skin afterwards. “I am sorry, I mean I don’t even know what to say. You make me so afraid yet I want you so much”. I used the opportunity to tell him I wanted out of the cartel. I explained to him that I could not be in that mess. He did warn I couldn’t stay out forever but promised to let me be until I wished to and said it meant I couldn’t travel as much as other bosses as the drug business ensured more glamour and luxury than the escort business but I agreed all the same.
An emergency beep called us out in our compromising poses, two of us naked in the blanket staring Consuelo and Issidro in the face. We were needed at the Ministry of Defence. We hurried in without caring about the countenance of our subordinates, put on our clothes and headed there. One of the girls we sent there had died in the bed of the Minister through shock after he (the Minister) forced a snake into her vagina. He said he enjoyed bestial explorations in his sex escapades and so did nothing out of the ordinary. I couldn’t understand how a man felt happy seeing a snake penetrate into a woman. I stood there shivering for a while. I was furious as that was the first time I encountered that problem. I pounced on him and started hitting him, he could not shout for help, Alejandro watched for few seconds and held me, begging me to stop the nonsense…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 25, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

EBONY GOES HOME

Daring was her nature

Beautiful was her stature

Much talent was hosted in her bubbly frame

The head of youth popping out of her character at every juncture

Defying norms and soothing ears

Representing her in the past tense makes me tense

Yet a greater hand has beckoned

Who is this mouth to ask why?

II

Her clock stopped before her birthday station

And her loss halted a whole nation

Half of whose mouths whipped in critical damnation

A beautiful bloom broken into our doom

Ebony, the blackest star which centered the musical red, gold and green

III

Home is where all our ends rest

As you go, come back rejuvenated

To change many more status quos

To touch more lives

To show the world how to live in fitting individual skins

To smile brightest and laugh loudest

In the black apparel nature gave which many blessed souls want changed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 24, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THIS FACE WE BOOK

This Face we book

Has many pages to flip

Beautiful pictures to look

Opened relationships to zip

Different recipes to cook

Vulnerable seams of souls to rip

Many addictions to hook

Many tears to in sympathy drip

II

In its town, many a secret sit naked

Many a bomb lie unclothed

Many a lonely heart roam veiled

Seen by bright eyes with no sight

Yet, many a stars are born on these streets

Many a thief, duly caught

Many a heart cruelly broken

Many a voice, rudely shut

Should mention be made of the much shame

Sprinkled on self portraited flowers and beaks?

III

This Face we book

The Twit we ter

This Insta we gram

This Link we in

And their brothers and sisters we display

Are theoretic worlds of us

Living in our arts

Making us gods in our own rights

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 24, 2018

THE STOREY OF YOU (FOR WORLD POETRY DAY)

I came to you straight from life’s hellish oven

With a soul brutalised and so very grief shaken

I came to you like a tired lamb

With my neck in offering

On feet so rebellious because of needs and pain’s whips

You held me, soothed me, and magically mended my callouses

Like a gentle ice on a burning wound

II

I sat in you with a shattered heart

A clubbing head with a vengeful hat

But days drained it all in your powerful words

Every ink cleansing my bleeding soul

Every hugging word exorcising my anger

Every line planting sanity in the dessert of my brain

Every stanza planting humanity in the pores of my skin

III

I lived in you like a fool turned tool

Yet you used me not as your stupid bull

But as a blessed head linked to a flowing hand

Mending my name from the dents of shame

Strengthening my muscles for battling rings of life

Shaving furry out of my hurry

Oh you mystical angel in an art!

IV

Purity in you is my loving find

Love of you is carved in my grateful mind

You are the piece of peace life has given

On my famished chaotic plate

That cool rain in my days of drought

So I will forever worship your existence:

P-O-E-T-R-Y, goddess of my artistic musedom!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 21, 2018

WOMEN ARISE (For International Women’s Day)

There is a reason beauty was given to most flowers
Along with their fragile nature and protective thorns
There is a reason they are nectared to feed many beaks and winged livers
Amidst the storms, rains and suns
And through their bruises, beheading and rots
I wish the creator spells it out

II
There sure is a reason love’s ironed ends
Reside in soft, warm, malleable femininity
With its sweat of tears
Surely, the creator is a skilled artist
Who knows the recipe of life’s nature and nurture
And which craft best fits caretaking
Even though we live behind the hidden reason
Let’s take the nature challenge

III
We need to rise
To be the world’s best sunrises
Shining off societal ills that handcuff our progress
We need to shine our love
On the darkness of yesteryears
To clear blinded eyes to see our best covered by society’s prisons
We need to lead with empathy on our sleeves
Even through tough times
To be lotuses in this murky mud called earth
We need to break the yokes of self doubt
Forgetting what arrested and forging through what enlightens

IV
No blame ever harvested fruits to feed a soul
No shame ever dressed a being with gold
No tears ever bathed a heart to be hurt free
No bitterness ever dusted hatred in harmed beings
No attack ever resurrected deaths of prides
None can tell our own stories like us
So arise in your awesomeness
Lead in your rights in gowns of perfections through respect and care
For you are flawless creations
Only flawlessly flawed by love and its deflections
To take on challenges like lozenges in our cold world
To share the covered smiles to flutter hearts
In evenness
To make life’s ride a pleasure for all
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 8, 2018

STAKES (FOR GHANA’S 2018 INDEPENDENCE CELEBRATION)

There has been a crawling baton
Since Nkrumah’s power run
In leading change
Still, we live through the smiles of moderation
In the ills of corrupt adorations
Gunning for greed in place of fertile seeds
Hating on whistleblowers in place of their hailing
Accepting crumbs for much sums
Never calculating the future’s profits in kind
And always thinking in the now
Yet we flow with sunrises thanking God
For trees which beg to be made into furniture
Suns which beg to live in the dark
Foods which tell tales of serving in cans
Seeds whose end products could give us much

II
From the rich cocoa lands
To the rich mineral lands
The fertile grounds to the strong beings
Right to theories left without practicalities
Fingers finger holes of darkness around the light
Yet hope glares
From its tiny corner
Hoping its pupils will be caught in the rays of ambition
To give excelling opportunities
To this royal dressed like “Korean Candy” and
Placed right in shrouds of development

III
We will figure it out
This chemistry of harmonisation and time consciousness
We will figure it out
This physics of nation building and work consciousness
We will figure it out
This art of syncing to the tune of success through hardwork
We will figure it out
This mathematics of development
Through the Woyomic confusions
To the Gyeeda embarrassment
Through the uncountable judgement debts
To the carnivorous roads
Through our shaking lights
To our here and there waters
Clothed in our love for culture and ourselves
We will figure it all out
The mass wealth with no formula for end products
For we are combinations of the best colours there are
Blood, minerals and green vegetations
Whose middle hosts the brightest blackness
With a general shine
For we are miracles by birth
So shackles are not unbreakable
We are the Gold Coasters turned Ghanaians
And proudly so
Long live Ghanaians
Long live Ghana
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 6, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

The Peppering Reality


They claim if a woman buys a gun, it is kept in the room of a man. Nonsensical nonsense! I feel the men who lived in those times and still exist in the now need refurbishment of brains in order to see where their “waatonkyene” vehicle is now parked to gift them a clear vision of the polished Limousines and V8s parading the streets of the now. These ears have heard them all; a woman’s place is in the kitchen (when men have feet to carry them there and two hands and a brain to cook), a woman is man’s property (as if men are born with additional months other than nine), a woman needs a man to be complete (as if completion is measured by their penises), a woman without a man is a prostitute (as if a woman prostitutes by herself), a woman with a mind and a mouth is bitter ( at this point I know only those who feel real bitterness are able to point out the bitter.)
Why will I fight so hard for three degrees, work so hard for a place in the society, build my personality well for respect only to play second fiddle to a man? Why? Do they have special powers to know my death date from my birth? “Abufuwsem akwaakwa”. 

Just look at Ama, fine lady she was in her twenties. A classmate, now with even grey hair at thirty one. After four children, her body is like that of an aged cow. She cleans, cooks, washes and pampers that cheating husband of hers who makes her feel less than an uncared for dog. Imagine me with my manicured fingernails and polished face, cleaning and cooking like a slave. Why? What are maidservants for? And why the hell will I pamper a cheating husband when HIV/AIDS is living in bodies with no seen tags? 

To me, a cheating husband must leave the house the very instant he is caught. A man must also take up his roles in the house. If I cook today, he must clean and do the dishes, if I bath the children, he must take them to school, if I wash our clothes, he must definitely dry them, if I take them off the drying lines, he surely must iron and fold them into the wardrobe. Why? Because we all earn income and are forming an equal home. Even the Bible says a woman should HELP the man not take over all the work in his house. What is submission without reciprocity? Did my mother gave birth to me to be enslaved by someone or stay in the shadow of some man? If the shadow is a good place to be, why the hell are they running their mouths in insults at even the thought that they could take the place of women in the kitchen? It is the uncouth men who shout the loudest! Empty barrels they say…! The annoying thing is that most are educated illiterates with no travelling experience. Yes, no travelling experience. They will surely argue and rain insults when they hear this but ask them where they have been to on earth, and you will hear “I travelled from Ho to Hohoe, Nkawkaw to Obo, Sagnerigu to Kumbungu, Tech Junction to Ejisu” and other laughable submissions. 

Nothing irks me like the travelled ones who act like domestic dogs abroad only to come back to their roots to act like kings of their home-made-jungles! Look at Lamisi’s husband who cooked and invited my boyfriend and I in Connecticut. When I visited them in their home in Accra, he sat in a sofa with legs crossed, throwing instructions around like a farmer ordering his hen. “Lamisi, did you only serve water? There is a champagne in the cellar. Hurry and serve them. Also prepare something delicious for them”. A second later, when the children were heard fighting over a ball, he opened his gutter to utter the most annoying insult I have ever heard “Lamisi, in the Name of Allah, control your children!” As if the children were not his, but when the conversation settled on the kids’ performance in school; “Oh they are really great! Whose children are they after all? Mine of course!”  I felt like blowing his mind up with a hammer of words but Rob, my boyfriend held and pleaded with me with his eyes as I painfully watched Lamisi sweep, wipe tables, do dishes while being sent on errands intermittently by the man who just sat gratifying himself with unnecessary talks about the cold snow and difficult life abroad. Ha! And I am sure he would jump on her like a pig at night without mercy! Such a filthy parody of man!

That evening, as I sat to think of all the unfair treatments meted out to women, I could not help but cry at the injustice our supposed illiterate ancestors committed against our poor mothers and decided to make them see reality. Kofi Nkwantannan’s proposal came in handy when my boyfriend asked me for a break. After sleeping over, I woke him up to lay the bed, sweep the room and prepare some breakfast for me. His eyes opened like an owl, his mouth like a made-belief dragon, the only missing point being the fires they are rumoured to spit. So, I pulled him from my bed naked, pushed him outside and threw his clothes on him all the while telling him “Who can marry a man who sleeps like a log in his woman’s house? Good luck finding a highly brought up lady like me!” I banged the door on him and warned him to clean up his drool on my doorsteps before leaving. 

And there was Habib. Guy just wanted me to meet his family, but I suggested he met mine first. Then he came to my house dressed in a jeans trousers and a T. Shirt. The arrogance of a growing monkey! I sacked the nigga from my house and made sure he never stepped foot in my house again with my well chronicled vocabulary which brought tears in his eyes. Imagine a lady dressed like that to meet potential in-laws in a lass domestication home!

Asona had the nerve to tell a close pal of mine that he slept with me. In his presence, I told that close pal and all those present about his thick and short penis which couldn’t even function properly. The nigga got really peeved and took out his penis for all to see. Tried as he did to make it wake for all to see, it slept like a dead log all through, shaming him the more. I felt good and in control then. Who codified a law that states only a woman can be shamed for her sexuality?

I wore my cool mini skirt and sleeveless top with high heels to church only for an elder to tell me to go home and change so as not to attract the men with the aura of my sinful accoutrements. I only gathered my friends, went to the church dressed to kill and sat how we liked in the front row as pastors stuttered, elders tried to swallow all the waterings of their mouths, choirmaster fought to hide his sheepish excitement only for the women’s leader to come with  pieces of cloths for us to cover ourselves up! I gave it to her from left to right, centre to back and front. In fact, I dressed her very well in a covering kaba and slit with a headgear, did her makeup to suit her and added the 70’s old shoes and ear rings to match. Don’t be too excited, they were all fashioned with my insult fabrics. 

Imagine a dunce of a woman telling me I am no wife material. I asked her how many yards she was and she was there yapping like an unschooled idiot! Should I be a patriarchal princess to be treated like a trash doll? Looked at only when pleasure bells call? God forbid! 

Amandzi is a real idiot! I just had a one night stand with him and he came back crying like a naive girl. What annoys me is that lady who took over someone’s husband and was jilted like a milk tin. She too had the mouth to say I am not a proper lady and that I am a shame to womanhood. An unmarked slave like that! Is it her concern if I decide to abort a pregnancy? In fact, whose concern is it? Is it not my own body? Why must anyone decide for me? I doubt she is getting some from any area boy. She surely is cranky because of all the Mary and Jesus’ cross that some riffraff gives gives her in a blue moon. I hear those princesses can hardly take control in their bedrooms. Such idiots! They “yes please” themselves even to be ridden like animals sedated to be killed in abattoir-like rooms.

I decided to jilt Koo Kumi after dating him for a month. Guy was cool and did everything I wanted but he was just too boring for my liking. I needed an excuse and told him that I am breaking up with him because he was not a virgin when we first slept together. Guy’s face mirrored a horror movie. Why do men find these things normal when it involves women but think they should not apply to them? Those who annoy me are the pastors and malllams who use their books to subdue women and make them feel less of themselves. I have created my own God and I pray to him to deal with them. The Bible and Quran was surely written by ego bloated men who needed chains to cage their women. Let anyone come to me with those scriptures and I will show them bullets and bombs can be found in some voices.

Atta, the village crook now tells people I serve the devil because I asked him to go down on me. It is amazing how horses of the past now try to make planes look alien in the present. He is one of those “gafara” men who “enter” their women like jerks, without foreplay. How do some women cope with some of these men?

I am now a topic among rumour mongers because I insisted my friend got a divorce from her husband of eight years after he slapped her. Why? Should I have left her there? The annoying thing is that that ungrateful Sherry is now blaming me for being single. Such a piece of shit! She would rather be married and unhappy than single and free. What is wrong with everybody and where at all is everyone, dear diary?

Abena Jemremedua © Feb. 2018 inspired by Kofi Gbedemah.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​DAWN MUSINGS

If passion’s flicker did take liquor
And whispered these many trials

That hang on every life’s tree

To flower into fruition

To be plucked or pecked, fall or rot

Only to reach a cut, break or an uproot

Many swim fighters might have failed in competition

Intentionally


II

Yet a real excitement

Like curiosity, hanging it’s neck

In the window of my unformed heart

Might have still pushed me here

Into the belly of this earth

Where many paths lead to the same dark spot

But transient hearts battle in disharmony

Using their mortality as spears, guns, machetes and cancerous words

Only to stand possessed with fear

When their last bells call

What is man in this crooked spot of living?


III

Man is a mind of secrecy

Ailing or jubilating for the past

Scheming in the present

Without knowing the future

Man is like a programmed robot

Whose lifespan is known to its creator

But hidden from him

Yet he plans every minute as if he is in charge of him

Man is like a blind god’s house

To be used and discarded in a time and place

Yet man lives like God 

With thoughts of who to lead and impress

Even when living plays itself in a sleep world

Oh! Fading dusts battling hardened rocks!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 20, 2018

WHEN NEED CHASES

I live

With the body of a lioness

But walk

At the pace of a snail

The earth; a cruel boiling

The air; a slapping heat

On this road, are monstrous feet

And on the sky’s face, is an annoying grin

Even the dark seems dangerous

As legs with no intent join targeting ones in my hunt

When did you say is your time for me?


II

I hope your time is not in oblivion

Where moths lay claim on what needs recycling

I hope your time is not in full age

Where old age sprinkles wrinkles on my fallen skin

As joints pull down its locomotive powers with pain

I hope your fires under this very pot

Die not at the total evaporation of its working waters

Your intent have written endorsements

But you know how fast hearts you created move 

When need chases

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 18, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa)  Chapter 28 (18+)

“If you cut the head of a snake, all that is left is a rope.” I know that was the proverb playing on the minds of Tayo and his cronies. What he did not know was the fact that this snake’s venom was full in every part of its body. I arranged pillows to look like a human in a dimly lit room, hid in the closet in wait with a locally acquired gun given by Manki. Poncho was under the bed while Nacho hid in the bathroom. They had placed ten of their men around the hotel and ten on the way to my room.  The wait was boring and we even started to doubt the authenticity of the whistle blower. At fourteen minutes to two at dawn, we heard light footsteps with slight creaking of opening doors.

Three people entered my hotel room, then we heard gunshots in my hall. The team there were in a shoot out waking many in the hotel. Poncho fired from beneath, Nacho from the bathroom and I, from the closet. We each got them but Nacho’s missed and shot his shoulders. The assassin started shooting anyhow so I had to dock. Nacho, courageously jumped from beneath the bed, hit the wrist of his hand which was holding the gun and engaged in a man to man fight with him. The light was switched on only to see the assassin dressed in an all black tights, including a woollen facial mask. Poncho and Nacho handcuffed and unmasked him and saw a very unfamiliar face. They called out to those placed in the hall and realized we had lost one of our men but all the men in black tights were dead. They were eight in number. We quickly moved through our windows to another hotel which was booked the previous evening.

Manki came to visit early the next morning. He was shocked that we were alive making me think he was part of the conspiracy. We had kept the one alive in my new hotel room, gagged with Poncho as his torturer. He would still not open his mouth but we were not done with him. Tayo also interestingly called me. I received the call with all courtesy demanded of a business friend and gave no clue as to what we had gone through the night before. His voice was unmistakably shaking throughout the conversation but I feigned ignorance to perfection. After booking all the flights,  we went back to my room to help torture the intruder. I ordered a finger to be chopped off at every failure to answer my question. After losing two fingers, he spoke out, telling us about the man who contracted them. In fact, he was the boss who was contracted and was at his wits end because all his people had been killed. He pleaded to be killed too but I would have none of it. The man who paid for the contract happened to be Tayo’s friend. I called Manki after clearing my doubts and gave him my instructions about the assassin who said he was called Mpa. I proposed a recruit and followed through with it even though all my crew were against it. There was something about him I found loyal although he croaked under intense pressure. We fixed him up real well, his fingers and all, and let him go after he promised to follow us to Mexico. I had Tayo brought in for few slaps and wounds which promised to be deep scars and warned him to play with his equals next time. He left with his tail in between his thighs.

We took off five days after our clash with the assassins. Mpa and almost all the girls showed up but three, leaving us with four hundred and ten girls. I left the three for Manki to deal with but asked that he acted gently as some may have had genuine reasons for bailing out. As it turned out, one found out she was pregnant, another could not leave her ailing grandmother and the other died the night before in a street shoot out. It was a safe flight and the girls were comfortable in the dormitories Alejandro prepared for them. Our orientation was beautiful as the girls willingly dressed up for the theory and their first test jobs.

I was a bit beside myself with anxiety after I saw Consuelo. Thoughts of her difference, change of eye colour, body size and speech sounds made me feel like she was a different person but people around me felt she was one and the same person. Fearing they might think few of my screws were loose up there, I shut up and kept my many questions to myself. 

Alejandro visited a week after our orientation. The look in his eyes had changed. He looked at me with a softer touch. Funny, I did not mind at all. “Miss Davids, my surprise is your success. A book’s internal writing colour can be different from its exterior. Si.” After saying that, things became odd between us with neither of us speaking for a minute or two. 

“Miss, I came to check something around this place and decided to check on you. Be careful with everything and everyone and be sure to be alert at all times. Meanwhile, I will need  thirty girls to go and model shoes in Milan next week.” His fluency in the English Language always baffled me.

He fidgeted while talking, making me sense there was something fishy about the modelling bit. It would have been alright if he had said “to escort some high profiled people, but to model when they had not been trained to model bothered me. He might have realized so added “I will bring a trainer to help them get ready for the run way.” I knew something smart was being played on me but didn’t know what. Yet I took consolation in his words to be alert at all times. 

The week saw me seeing to it that selected girls were trained for modelling of shoes. The “ko ko ko” and “ka ka ka” were better than the sneakers which were almost like lullabies. The shoes that were presented were brand new and very catchy but the models who were chosen had long, beautiful and sexy legs, bodies and faces, talk less of smiles accentuated with perfect set of snow-like teeth. So in wearing the shoes, though catchy, the legs, bodies, in fact, their whole physiques caught more attention. They were given special clothes to wear with the excuse that they are models and should look as such, even their bags were sponsored, including hair accessories. I got the surprise of my life when my ticket was added. I was to be their supervisor. A part of me was glad of the Italy visit, a part was just restless, feeling there was something awfully wrong associated. 

We went through checks with no problems at the airport. The flight, including food on the plane was beautiful and cool. A beautiful blue black Limousine picked us up at the airport and sent us to our hotels. Although the girls were excited, they were nearly as tired as I was. I mean proper tiredness as they took on five to six men each night and six to seven during the day. On my part, I supervised all the CCTV cameras in their various dormitories to be sure I was privy to all that was happening to them, of course, without their knowledge. I also took charge in pairing men with them. I was grateful the payment plan of our customers had nothing to do with me but everything to do with Alejandro. Still, from petty thefts to sex based injuries, chaotic misunderstandings caused by language barriers to attitudinally sour men, there was never a dull day until the travel. I won’t even mention meetings upon meetings. Will you believe me when I say I completely forgot about sex? It was that intense so I slept like a log at our Hilton Hotel in Milan.

I woke to a scare, a very frightful scare. One of the girls was seizing and according to the other girls, had been seizing for over an hour. I made to call the reception for an ambulance but one of the girls restrained me. She took me to the bathroom and showed me something. A white powdery substance which she believed was the cause of Nthambi’s seizure. She believed they were in the shoes and the girl found them out and abused them. I asked her to get all the shoes of the girls for me without their knowledge. We searched through, even to a point of destroying some but nothing was found. I thought deeply about the whole trouble and decided on what to do next. Cunning were my thoughts, fierce were my emotions.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 16, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THE VALENTINE’S DAY BROUHAHA


“You call this a gift? To think I thought you sensitive and thoughtful!” Afiba gathers her strapless mermaid-like red and white gown from the floor to get it away from her red stiletto heels in readiness to leave Ato’s room and probably his life. Ato holds on to her, locks his door, takes out the key and throws it under the bed.

“What do you think you are doing? Kidnapping me?” Afiba cries out in disgust.

“No, I just want to know exactly what is causing this confusion. It is Valentine’s Day for crying out loud Afi! A rose with these expensive well packaged chocolates I ordered from our own Cocoa Processing Company Limited and customised in your name should move you at least.”

Afiba pouts her lips, stands akimbo and looks again at the parcelled gifts on the well laid bed. She thinks of the conversation she had with Yaa, Araba, Ayoko and Alima. She was expecting a Kia Picanto from Ato in the least. She knows he can afford it and has been hinting at it for a long time even before this Valentine’s Day. She has been in a relationship with him for four years so was hoping for that and an engagement ring. Yet here she is, saddled with customised chocolates and a rose when she had bought him his dream Suzuki Motorbike and customised his name on it.

“Well, I don’t know what you mean by being moved, I guess I am different from other people, I am not in the least moved. If you would excuse me, please get the key from under that bed, open that door and let me leave.”

Afiba thinks through last year. How Ekow bought a brand new Toyota Camry for Araba and customised it in her name and how she bragged about it to all of them. She thinks of how Yaa paraded her engagement ring given to her by Owusu in front of them after being taken on a cruise in Europe. She thinks of how Alima had been surprised with a plush and well furnished restaurant in her name, land, structure and all by Alhaji Issah, her boyfriend now husband. She thinks of how Ayoko was asked to move in with Lantey with a paid trip to Paris and how all she had to show was a rose and a bottle of champagne. She feels she can’t continue this way.

“Remember all the great things your friends gave to their girlfriends last year? On Valentine’s Day?”

Ato is taken aback. “You mean Owusu, Lantey, Ekow and Alhaji Issah?”

Afiba nods as tears freely flow from her beautiful well lined eyelids. “What did they give them? I remember Alhaji Issah gifting Alima a restaurant, that was because she had worked so hard in graduating her catering school and deserved it, also, he was getting married to her in three months. Besides that, I don’t remember any special thing the others did for your friends Afi.

“Well, you might not know but Ekow gave Araba a Toyota Camry and customised her name on it, Yaa was proposed to and sent to Europe on a paid trip, Lantey also took Ayoko to Paris…”

Ato laughs loudly, sits on the bed, gets up, looks at Afiba and chuckles. “Afi, stop this child’s play. You know none of those things happened. Ayoko forced herself to move in with Lantey and now their relationship is on the brink of a break up. Those others, they did not get as much as a flower to think of a box of chocolate. I was privy to the quarrels between all of them. Trust me, those ladies went over the bar gifting paid trips and whatnots. But the biys nevee reciprocated.”

Afi’s knees shiver as though it would break even in its beautiful heels. She feels what she is hearing is not something she even dreamt possible, let alone true. If what Ato is saying is true, then she has seriously been misled. But it seems she is being lied to by Ato, but lies aren’t part of his traits. He has always proven true to his feelings and information he divulges. She is confused and bites her red lipsticked lips. Afiba forces herself to sit on the bed and thinks deeply about the whole brouhaha. Ato has always been gentle with her. He is kind, gives her all she desires, not in excess but she does not lack in anything she needs. He is unlike any man she has dated. “I need to find a way to salvage the situation before I make a mess of my relationship. Afiba thinks to herself.

“I don’t know what to say Ato.”

“Don’t say anything Afi. I know you. You have never been a greedy lady. You have been true to your feelings and always lived real. I can understand your needs, trust me, because I love you. Always look to me, trust me to do you right and let’s cherish our relationship. I will never betray you, you know that.”

Afiba starts crying loudly without shame. Ato takes her into his arms, cuddles her until she calms down. 

“I am sorry Ato. I really didn’t mean to be ungrateful. Sometimes my friends get to me with their taunts but I promise to be careful from today onwards”

Ato struggles for the key, opens the door and goes out. After few minutes, he comes in, takes off her heels, replaces them on her feet with  flip flops and leads her gently to the dining table. Afiba is shocked to the bone. The table is laid like one in a five star hotel with assorted meals, lasagne in assorted meat sauce, grilled chicken, her favourite and spiced salad with sparkled water, natural pineapple juice on the rock and rice cooked to perfection. Standing in a small bucket of ice is her favourite champagne. She saw no one around when she walked in. Now she looks around and finds no one.

“Did you do all these yourself?”

Ato nods. “I have been learning for months. I just wanted to surprise you so you will look on me favourably the years ahead.”

Afiba, now ashamed to a fault, digs into the meal served on her plate. The meal is more palatable than any she has tasted in life and the attention given her by Ato, wiping of her mouth, filling her glasses,  and playing her favourite tunes makes it more than a fantasy. She does not believe she nearly passed this for a tearful night in loneliness in her quiet apartment. 

Ato’s phone rings after the meal while they are watching the new Romantic Comedy from Sparrows Production directed by Shirley Frimpong Manso. He puts it on loud speaker after seeing the look on Afiba’s face. It is a conference call with the boys.  Lantey is the first to speak. “I’ve finally succeeded in sacking Araba from my house. Aaaba! This is the best Valentine’s gift ever. The girl wanted to stick on me like glue.” Alhaji speaks in disgust. “Lantey, you don’t have to be this insensitive. That girl has given you more than four years of her life. We are humans and must be empathetic. Imagine her as your little sister.” Ekow disagreed with Alhaji “Empathy has nothing to do with love, Alhaji. The girl should have sensed from the start that he wasn’t into her. In this relationship of five, we all know only two were going to work even before it started. Ato’s and yours. We all made our investigations and realized the others were in relationships with sugar daddies and are still in those relationships even as we speak. They play us, we tag along”.

There is silence. Alhaji speaks out. “Well, knowing that, you should’ve let them go long ago. This mockery of a relationship, leading them on is uncalled for.”

Owusu comes in,  “ I will marry Yaa, immediately I see her being serious about her job. I hope she stops flirting with her boss. I have never played her, she plays me but I know she is making an attempt. For close to two years now, she has been faithful so I am still watching her keenly. As for the rest, Alhaji, leave their matter. You can decide to put them in your four to one slot. You know ours is just a one on one?” Afiba covers her mouth with her palms to stop herself from crying out. Ato speaks for the first time. “But you bought her a promissory ring last year?” Owusu quickly answers “What do you mean? Will I buy her a ring without informing you? Where did you get that from Ato?” 

Afiba gets up and runs to the bedroom to cry out. She has been stupid, very stupid. Ato joins her and all she does is apologize, hugs her gifts and weeps. 

Work is stressful at the hospital when day breaks. There are many sick patients and three die while being attended to. She reaches home stressed after working as the best nurse she is and meets all her friends relaxing in her hall. She asks them how they spent their Valentine’s Day. 

Araba in an over exaggerated excited tone speaks: “I have been given an all expense paid trip to Dubai. I leave tomorrow “ She actually has the ticket to show for it. Afiba blinks her disgust but takes control of her emotions in order not to let it show. 

“I moved out of Lantey’s house. I think it has ended for us but he bought me a brand new car” Ayoko said blandly. Afiba nearly shouts at her but restrains herself. 

“I was given a box of chocolate. I can’t continue lying. I was not given any ring last year. In fact, nothing was given to me at all. I am jealous of all of you. I am sorry I lied but I too wanted to be seen as being loved but I guess all is for nothing. I have nothing to show for it.”

Afiba pulls Yaa up in a tight embrace and tells her she is a real person and that she has a man who will definitely marry her if she pulls herself together. The other two look on as if they have been slapped but ask her what she was given.

She hands them her parcel bag and they start digging into her chocolates. Araba is the first to exclaim. “Afiba! There is a ring in this chocolate.” She pulls it out of her mouth and it is a very beautiful silver ring with a beautiful pearls fixed on the top most parts. Afiba immediately puts it on her middle finger. It fits perfectly. 

“This is beautiful! They all exclaim in turns. Afiba calls Ato and continuously repeats “I will! I definitely will! I love you!”

Alima starts eating the rest and exclaims “Ah! There is a big thing in this chocolate. Can’t even fit into my mouth.” She pulls it out and it is a key to a car. They all breathe in jealousy. Afiba collapses for a minute and  wakes only to cry. She looks into the pack and sees a note, rushes to her garage only to see her Kia Picanto. She laughs through her tears, ashamed but happy and thankful to God for Ato. She definitely has learnt her lesson and by Jove will listen to her friends with a pinch of salt from hereon.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 14, 2018

Edited by Alhassan Nantomah

Photo Credit: Google Pics

ON THIS DAY OF LOVE


Varied colours of bees, birds and flowers

Will dance under Cupid’s showers

With soaps of gifts in parcels of hearts

Many in heels on tiles of public stages

In fantasies of crumbling perfect sheets

In the arms of secrecy

Others in sneakers of dignity 

On woolen carpeted back staged floors

Hoping their hearts’ arrows 

Will meticulously pierce and stick into hearts in foreverness

Yet some will wait in anticipation for naught

From hearts of insensitive dust cans

Who know how to eat in bowls of love

 Not how to prepare its meals nor do its dishes

What of those to be robbed in cages of manipulations

By Cupid’s unfortunate curses?

Oh there are those whose tarred tongues of lies

Will spark vehicles of deceit into chaotic accidents

Seeing to death of their couplings

Yet still some will hide in blankets of loneliness

Hoping with tears of need

For a future of fantasy

Where Cupid’s touch will bless

It is a farm of perfected imperfections

Cultivated from a garden of loving hate

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 14, 2018

Photo Credit: Google pics

PRETEND ON

Flow with the snow and alienate your rain

Giggle in shivers of winter and act coy with thy harmattan

Mate summer and pretend its sun is all you’ve seen

You melaninos pretending to be dark albinos

In strange strange spheres
II

You are they who hold erasers of the past

Cleaning  footsteps as they go

You are they who join moves of foreign rhythms

Pretending Adowa, Agbadza, Kpanlogo and the lively others

Are sickly tunes from lands of alien apes

Soldier on, you eagles acting in butterfly tights

Model on, you frozen blocks wearing clothes of snows

Run on, you who abhor pictures of your past

Just know frogs stretch in their death

Showing their real heights

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 11, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 27 (18+)

A foreseen target calls for  prior preparation. When Alejandro’s hands left my face, I immediately grabbed them both, turned them behind him, forcing him to turn, kicked the back of his kneecaps, forcing him to kneel, and asked him what he was thinking. Funny, he did nothing to challenge me. Issidro pulled a gun at me but I am sure he knew I didn’t care about that. It was obvious he was trying to distant himself from my actions towards his boss. Alejandro who directly faced him, spoke with him for about a minute in a very calm tone. He obviously had a hold of his emotions. Issidro lowered his gun afterwards.
“Miss, let go of me.”

“Not until you say please.”

“Please.”

I let go of him but pushed him forward into a fall. One who has tasted the venom of a cobra,  has no fear for worms. My eyes squarely met his as he got up. He said something in Spanish and Issidro reluctantly got out, closing the door behind him.

“Miss Davids, this is the last time you will behave like this towards me in front of anyone or else…”

“Or else what? You will kill me? As if I fear the kind of death threat you pose.”

“No, I won’t kill you. I will kill three of your people anytime you disrespect me.

It was my turn to laugh but the laughter died in my throat when I heard his next words. 

“We have a deal. You will scout your people and pay them from your earnings, which would be more than you need. But three will die anytime you try this with me again. Understood?”

Fear crept through my pores from my soul. I can stand anything but someone suffering in my stead, how could I live with someone dying because of me? Alejandro had found me out and targeted the spots which really can hurt, no, kill me from within. My quietude and instant change from defiance to fear made him smile. He kissed my right cheek, straightened his grey trousers and white shirt and left. I sat on the bed, thought through what had happened and knew I had been caught. I sure needed to behave and find a way out.

Three tickets were handed over to me the next day. I was supposed to go to Gabon to scout with a team of about twenty soldiers to protect me. I was not stupid, I knew they were to make sure I did not run away. I told them not to make me see them as it would be annoying to. Libreville was a fair city but my interest was not in the place, it was in the people and how to get the right workers to start my journey in an escort agency I knew nothing about. Luckily, Poncho and Nacho were with me. Nacho spoke impeccable French making him a great asset and protector. I told him I needed to rest and plan, so we went to Hotel Boulevard where our rooms were already booked. We slept for six hours, woke up to supper in our respective rooms and prepared for the night. I surfed the net to find good nightclubs and found Le Hype, No Stress, VIP Room, Le Marrakech, L’absolute Discothèque, Bomb Afro and Yoka Sports Bar. We had only two months to scout and return to base and I did not intend to overstay my welcome. 

Upon discussion, we agreed with the help of our source there, Manki, that we would start with the first three. Manki told me he had some girls for me but I realized he had deceived them into believing they were going to America to have their dream jobs. Of course, I declined. With Nacho as my ears, I pretended to drink with them when what I had in my Gin bottle was water, firmly held by Nacho. The bottle in my hand held liquor alright. That I served them. Through that, I got to know of the best pimp to see at Le Hype. He was reluctant at first in introducing me to his girls, but caved in when I showed him the five thousand dollars he’d earn if he did. In three hours, all the girls were lined up. I only went to that meeting with Nacho. 

“We are an escort agency based in Mexico. The biggest there is. If you want to join us, we will be glad and pay for your trip there. We will pay you well for your services and you will be free to leave, that is, after you finish paying for your expenses for the journey. It is a fair deal and I have my contract here. So those who want to join should write their names so we can start the procedure. “

Nacho translated this word for word. I asked that they informed their other friends in the business and left for the hotel. It was a stressful night although we only visited Le Hype. 

I woke to a call from Alejandro at 3am. He warned me not to mess things up and made it clear freedom comes with responsibilities one needs to honour or face their consequences. I assured him I understood but he did something that made me feel he feared I would fail. “Manki knows the place well, he is our best scout in Gabon. Please let him help you.” I told him I’d consider, that ended the conversation. I begun to doubt myself. “Would my plan work? Can I get two hundred girls to voluntarily opt to work under my escort? My nerves drove me into a long hot shower. After the bath, I went back to the room only to find many missed calls at 4:56 am. I called back and it was Taro, the Pimp of Le Hype. He told me he had gotten five hundred and sixteen girls for me. They ranged between seventeen to twenty three. I was besides myself with happiness. I told him I would pay him after my selection and he was more than glad. I called Manki and asked him to book a place for an audition, a secluded place. The girls were to come with sandals, a pair of high heels, a swim suit, a formal wear and a lingerie. Those who couldn’t afford were to call Manki and register for shopping which would go into their account before the audition day. 

Manki was besides himself with respect for me. He shopped for almost four hundred girls after making them sign that if they failed, they would refund. Of course, I made sure he chose the best to qualify for the shopping. I was bent on finishing the auditions in at most two days, so set up Poncho to see to the formal dresses, Nacho, the swim suit while Manki and I saw to the lingerie, heels and mock sex.

What was difficult was the mock sex where some men were hired to fuck or be fucked to ascertain the best. At about the thirtieth fuck, I suggested we went without that bit of the audition. It was annoying listening to the sounds some of the girls made when they were fingered, arousing to see them enjoy their quickies in exaggerated forms and time consuming to clean around for other rounds to take place as I insisted on good hygiene. This time, Manki was supportive, so we paid the gigolos and dismissed them. We completed within two days and ended up selecting all four hundred and thirteen girls who auditioned. It turned out the sickly, too fat and old ones were eliminated by Manki’s team even before we took our seats. The problem was, I was given a two hundred girl mark so I called Alejandro who just told me to do what was best. Wiring money to me, to him, would attract attention, so he told me he’d send someone to bring me what I needed so the person would pick up later. I realized the business was bigger than I anticipated. 

Working on passports was easy. Manki knew many people and paid our way through. Within three weeks, we were done with our paperwork, ready to fly. Just when we were about to book the flights, someone gave us a tip that Tayo was trying to sabotage us. He had hired assassins to wipe us clean after robbing us. Manki suggested we changed hotels but I would have none of it. I asked them to prepare in wait for them that night and went to my room to plan for my safety with Poncho and Nacho.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​EBONY DRAINS BUT STILL REIGNS

This morning tastes sour
Making the sun frown at its bitter luck

In throats are melodies which water sores of heartbreaks

A blooming voice has muted 

Pressed by deaths wicked fingers

How I wish death’s father lived in the physical

For her soul to date in his hate
II

The sensuous figure that worked so well

Driving many into an obsessive hell, fell

At the dawn of her rise

And tears are seas in loving hearts

Regrets are pools in hateful hearts

All the poison whose venom never got its fill

The sponsor whose money gave dilemma for a moral so misconstrued

Look Mother Nature! What death, your son, has done!

One who reigns has been sucked in his drains
III

I know the unheard melodies ringing through strange lands

Begging for a way back to life’s shores

I know the “hotness” that finds itself in a mythical realm

I know the grievances of an unfilled pot

Broken after a graceful bake

But you were a melody in your short visit

A sweet sweet melody with a perfect pen of words to boost

Writing your name in the history of the greatest our time will know

Sleep well little one

If the world gives other chances yonder

By all means come and complete your mission

Until then, damarifa due!

Due due ne amanehunu!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 9, 2018 For Ebony Reigns.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

POSITIVE VIBES

A flower of smiles

In a hand so warm

A massaging sun waving from miles

In a sky of no harm

Greets your morning from the land of my mind

II

The land of my mind

In which I farm happiness in weeds of strife

Throwing stumps and thorns into dungeons of past’s behind

Carving a great team to play the team of life

So create a smile without a sigh


IV

A smile with no sigh

Even if clouds blanket the waving sun

Knowing transiency is its bothersome hi

And impotency carves its tempt like fun

In a garden of your sweet scented presence

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 8, 2018

​THAT CHAOTIC FUTURE

I can see a time standing far up on a future top
With a sea-like feet sweeping this shop

Acting like a white elephant cop

Watching as beings intensely flop 

And animals, their tamed rights hop


II

There, I saw a wolf publicly loving a being

All fangs and claws in daylight are seen

All giggles of rights hailed fairly by the green

As ancestors time look in nauseating mean


III

Even dogs walked on twos

Giggling with beings in “me and yous”

And those who stumbled into public loos

Ended up seeing all furs on and in skin


IV 

What of horses who sat to date

Their past bosses in a lucky fate?

In their bitter and litter state

Their curses loudly fly in debates


V

I watch as fishes fight for their rights

To swim in air and get their share

Of the pleasures which humans share

To the creatures whose meat now act skins

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 7, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 26 (18+)

Connection of hearts is spiritual, binding and most of all intuitive. I looked at the woman staring down at me and couldn’t help thinking of Ntwanu. I rushed to hug her. She first hugged me, then pushed me off her. That was when I gained my awakening. I looked up to see Issidro standing there watching us. I didn’t say as much as a word but I was embarrassed.

“So miss likes women, no?”

I decided it was best not to reply to that message and went to sit on the bed. Consuelo, the house maid, left after bowing. Issidro came to sit beside me on the bed. 

“Miss Bee, I like you. I like you very very much. When I see you my corazon goes crazy. My woman, be my woman”

I couldn’t help but ask “Are you here to hit on me or strike a deal?”

He looked down and didn’t say anything. It was obvious his ego was bruised but I cared less. “Please leave. I need to rest. I have body pains, let’s talk later and come to an agreement.”

He could not believe his ears and opened his eyes as though he had seen a torturous ghost. I realized he had probably never been treated like that before. I held his hand, pulled him into a standing position, walked him slowly to the bedroom door and pushed him out. After, I locked the door in and threw myself on the bed. I thought of what to do. I didn’t know Mexico very well, I couldn’t make it through the airport because this escort organization seemed like a very powerful one. Chances are, they even had agents on road. I had to be smart and gain their confidence. How to do that? By joining in. My heart broke into millions of pieces after thinking about the people I was going to help ruin. But it is a world where survival of self takes precedence over that of strange others in strange circumstances. So I cried myself to sleep until Consuelo woke me up. 

“Madam, time to eat supper” 

I had not eaten for a long time so saw the dining table and was glad. Rice and stew with so many side dishes. I sat and started biting in and ate until I could eat no more. I started feeling bad, ticklish and needy. I realized I had been given an aphrodisiac. I yearned so much for sex that I didn’t know what to do. I asked Consuelo what she had done and she assured me she had done nothing. Strangely, I believed her. I decided to go get a shower, on reaching the bedroom, Issidro was lying naked on the bed, smiling slyly. I told myself, even if he was the last man on earth, I was not going to sleep with him ever. I picked some decent clothes, left him there, called two of my guards and asked them to take me to a good hotel. They obliged and got a good room for me. I asked them to come in for a drink and shut the door. I apologized for what I was about to do but stripped them naked. They were both dumbfounded but I could sense the need in their eyes. 

I ordered them to fuck me as much as they could. Poncho kissed me wildly as Nacho took off my clothes, he too was kissing me from behind. What I needed was not the kissing part, I needed something deep inside me, something strong, something hard so looked among the two and realized they were both as hard as stones. While he stood, I climbed him, holding his neck as I pushed him into me, it was such a pleasurable thrust. I asked that he pounded me hard. He tried but it was not enough. I was like a crazy and needy bitch. I exchanged Poncho for Nacho but it still couldn’t do. It went on for well over two hours. I didn’t know what to do to stop the feeling. Poncho went out and came after fifteen minutes with some form of medicine. He begged me to take it. After taking it, I still fucked them for over fifteen minutes before I calmed. My gentle security men took me to the bathroom and bathed me. Something about a man bathing me reminded me of Guru and Ntwanu. They were so sweet. After that, they tucked me in bed, watched me sleep for well over four hours and woke me up. 

Poncho decided to speak but Nacho restrained him. Still he spoke out. “Madam, be careful with Issidro. He put medicine in your food. He wants you so try and satisfy him or he can kill you.”

I told them to protect me as much as they could as I was not in anyway interested in sleeping with Issidro. Nacho then asked that I demand to see Isidro’s boss from him, that was the only thing that could save me, the protection from above. When we reached home, Issidro was waiting, obviously annoyed but couldn’t voice it out. Instead of listening to him, I spoke out. “I need to see your boss in order to come to an agreement with my hiring. Call him.” He objected and pulled a gun at me. I wasn’t in the least shocked. I just went to stand straight in front of the gun, pulled it to my forehead and asked him to fire. He started shivering, so I held the trigger with him and fired. He struggled and the bullet went from my face to the door, destroying some electronic devices in the hall. He started calling me crazy and continuously shouted that he had not seen such a horrible bitch in his life. I thanked him for it and asked him to call his boss. He did. 

Alejandro was slim, tall, handsome, around forty years old and with some cool set of teeth I had ever seen. His dimples were so beautiful he didn’t look like a pimp boss. He asked me to go straight to the point as he did not have the time to waste and I did.

“I will need to scout my whores, train them and work with them. Also, I will need to pay them what is due them so they don’t feel used. If you agree to those terms, then I will work for you. If not, then forget it.”

“You know if I forget it, you won’t leave this house alive right?”

I laughed like I had heard the best comedy ever, and went to stand right in front of him. Issidro spoke to him extensively in Spanish as my eyes held his. I asked him to shoot or do his worst to me as I was not going to compromise on even one of those conditions. He stood up, held my face and gave me a French kiss. Issidro’s face told me something unpleasant was about to happen, so I braced myself for it but did lean in for that kiss which obviously made Issidro uncomfortable and angry.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 5, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​THE LAW’S UNFAIR AXE

“Case number 566/7 The state vrs Akosua Twumasi.” The clerk called out.

Many people started hurling abuses at her until the clerk shouted “Order in Court!” as the gavel of the judge pounded loudly on his desk. I just looked at the weak and feeble woman in handcuffs who was being pushed into the witness stand to be interrogated. She swore by the Bible to tell the truth and nothing but the truth but was sneered at by most people who were there, like me, to witness proceedings. The court was filled to the brim. Her case was read out by the prosecuting counsel. According to him, Madam Akosua Twumasi poisoned her daughter and cruelly killed her. After, she walked straight to the police station to report herself. When the police got to the scene, the poor girl was lying in bed, in the pool of her vomitted blood, dead. She was an autistic girl with multiple seizures according to the attending doctor. He ended that, how a girl who knew nothing was cruelly murdered by her own mother is beyond thinking and asked the court to seek justice for the poor departed soul.

Madam Twumasi was asked about her counsel, she asked that she be allowed to speak for herself. In tears, she spoke.

“I did kill my daughter and I believe no one here has the right to judge me. I believe no one has the right to insult or sneer at me. I believe no one has the right to arrest me. That is my thought.” The judge asked her to explain before she was slapped with contempt of the court.

“Your Honour, this would be long but pardon me. I was born an orphan, with no one to help me through life. The state provided me with nothing because even the education that many thought was free, was expensive to me. I couldn’t feed myself so dropped out. I won’t bore you with that story of my life. I fell in love with my husband of three years when he was in secondary school. With my fried plantain, I took care of part of his expenses till he completed his schooling, became a teacher and married me. When we had our child, she was the most beautiful girl Nsakaw had seen and word went round that I had given birth to a mermaid or an angel. She grew up to six months and fell ill. She convulsed without stopping. We took her to many hospitals and tried everything but the sickness worsened and she became a completely dependent girl as she grew. She could neither talk nor walk. At two years old, we all realized there was no hope of a recovery but I trusted God to change that fate. 

I heard from a friend that my husband was getting married to another lady when my daughter was barely two and a half years old. Lo and behold, it was true. Whereas I was traditionally married to him, he legally wedded another woman. With my child strapped at my back, I looked on as they recited their vows but could not say anything. That was a man who slept in my bed the previous night. He never returned to our home, and never bothered to send me a pesewa. With my daughter strapped on my back, I sold iced water at the market but no one bothered to buy from me. I heard a rumour that I was a witch and my witchcraft caused the sickness of my daughter. Another rumour had it that I insulted an elderly woman when I was pregnant and so my daughter’s illness is as a result of that. My Lord, I never did any such things. Many people here in Nsakaw shunned my company so I relied on a piece of land my mother left me, to farm and feed. You should have seen the girl on my back as I cleared portions to plant. Sometimes, when the going got tough, I sat by the mosque in town to beg for alms. 

During all that time, the law was not seen. When my daughter was seizing and biting her tongue, when blood oozed from her bite, when her drooling bathed me to the disgust of all, the law was no where to be found. I carried on for seven years. Seven whole years hoping for a miracle, going hungry to see her fed, travelling miles to have her tended to by scamming herbalists and spiritualists, having to pay pastors who promised the fastest healing ever, none of that worked. And what was worse? The hospitals provided for by government collected such huge amounts for medications prescribed for the girl that I ended up not going there anymore. How could I have afforded that? How do you think a mother feels seeing her child suffer shame? How do you think a mother feels seeing her child suffer deprivation? How do you think a mother feels seeing herself and her child at the pointed ends of fingers whose sole aim is to make them objects of ridicule? How does it feel to feel so alone in a world whose hands are never there to help when need be but its mouth is ready to butcher at the slightest mistake? 

I am sorry to say that you have no right to harm a hair on my pride. Why must I be arrested? Because I reported myself for the crime? What about the millions of people you all know who kill their disabled children without reporting? It’s a hush hush affair but you know and I know that it happens. Even those with cleft palates are killed mercilessly. You hear and I hear but you protect them with “no evidence”. How many people in this court room did not tell me that my child is an evil spirit? Snake? Punishment from the gods? How many of you didn’t suggest that I take her to be turned into a python and join our ancestors because she could devour me at night? How many of you gave me one word of encouragement? How many of you bought me pure water when I was thirsty and carried her on my back under the scorching sun? How many of you even looked with sympathy? Yet you sit here sneering like perfect gods and goddesses.

I am a victim of circumstance! That victim whose conscience is clear because I killed my daughter not because of all the suggestions you gave but because I wanted to gift her peace. Peace to live free of illnesses, peace to sleep and rest, free of seizures, free from your scornful eyes, free from societal rumours that spread fast without a wiring. Free from poverty, from pain from a father who never for once turned back to look at her but sits in this court looking at me like some form of evil executioner. I gifted her that freedom. I know you will ask why I didn’t report her father. Will I have had peace in this community where only witches take their men to court? This community which only sees the little dust on a female while overlooking the stinking shit on males? Will I have survived in this ostriched community where the man is always right? 

Your Honour, do let the law whip me if you must, but think it through if the law has that right to bother me when it has not gained the fear of the people to live rightly. No, do not jail me my Lord, sentence me to death rather. That is the only thing that can give your mind rest and clear your conscience. And why not? Because you did protect me from malice, shame and fed me, yet still I took the life of an angel. I sacked my lawyer. Well, how can the state who battles me give me a lawyer? How can that lawyer ask me to plead guilty even before hearing my full statement? I need no one to defend me. You can sentence me now Your Honour! But I dare say I am not repentant. Given the chance, I will do it over and over again. Jail is a much better place than seeing the suffering of one you would sacrifice your life for. I would have killed myself afterwards but needed to be heard for those who are yet to experience this pain. I have nothing more to say your Honour. Thank you.”

The whole court was silent. No one moved for what seemed like eternity. Those who were busy insulting and casting aspersions and insinuations at her could no longer look at her. Two women seated by me suddenly started fighting. They accused each other of starting rumours and shunning her company. The judge’s head was bowed. He could no longer look at her and could not talk. I knew he would have the worst time sentencing her, but sentence he must. The clerk just blinked tears. The whole jury shed tears. The judge signalled the clerk and in a minute, he tearfully announced, “This case is adjourned to next month, October 9, 2018.” The prosecutor never for once, raised his head after that. How people vanished from the court was a mystery. I just sat there, my sweat drowning my clothes as she was led by the police to their van. He who created a woman to be strong, too strong in love, surely cursed us. We deserved everything but that burdensome gift.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 3, 2018.

Photo Credit: Pinterest on Google Pics.

TRAITS OF A LEADER

A knot needs fingers to be

Just as groups need a head for sanity

As the earth looks upon the sky

And the sky cries and shines upon the earth in fertility

So must the relations between a leader and the led

The leader built by positive sides of great animals


II

A leader must be a lion in serving

Fierce for roles none wants to take on

With paws for tackling its challenges

Be it shame or difficulties

A leader must be a peacock

Proud of piecing diverse heads into one

And stitching different hearts into rhythmic heartbeats

A leader must be a hen

Domesticated 

Always home or around the home of the office

Bringing all broken wings, tired legs, hurt chicks

Under its wings

Always watching out for the hawk of division

And working to have a pecking fight even if its strength is in the low

A leader must be a cat

Always ready to listen

Mostly holding its tongue

Mostly blinking away gossips

Which wild dogs peddle

Only using the guarding trait of dogs for the good of all

A leader must be an ant

Wise in troubled waters

Looking for leaves when his army is faced with a drowning

Always honourable even in a chastisement

A leader must be a goat

Stubborn with risks

Accepting defeats with grace

And cheering wins with motivation

A leader must be a sheep

Obedient and approachable

To all no matter the emotions of approachers

A leader must be a dove

Looked upon like a star by her led

Pure in their hardworking sights

Setting examples where equations seem difficult

A leader must be as presentable as an antelope

Even in a forest of thorns

Observant like a brown snake under a brown lawn

A leader must be a horse

Never tired to trot

Even when sharp rocks stare meanly with knives to battle

A leader must a nightingale

Whose voice mellows the fury of even a dragon spewing hell fire

A leader must be a vulture

Always picking up the dead pieces no matter how they stink

A leader must be an eagle

Whose wings never tire from flight

And strength is enough to always light teams

With eyes like that of a potent seer

Seeing the future before it happens

A leader must be the biggest tree in the desert

Always ready to house all in branches and under its skirt

A leader must be fierce like a David

Even when a Goliath chases

A leader is the donkey whose back never breaks

And the horse whose chariot is his to pull

Even through thunders and storms

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 30, 2017

​CHILD OF MINE


Baby mine

Do not, for the attention of these storms pay a dime

Life in suns and rains rhyme

So let’s let these storms, their time chime

You beautiful sun of mine


II

You were picked from the world of passion

With wishes of building for you a happy nation

Breaking backs to give you a perfect station

But life’s travel shows no future action

Hence my sorry reaction


III

I wish your ails had a walking bell

I would have sheltered you like a shell

And taken its guns regardless of its pain’s spell

Even if it meant arrest of my soul in death’s cell

But its talkless sneakers teamed with my unaware gel

So you innocent soul in running fell


IV

Even as these storms roar

As our needs soar

In many an eye’s tour

And many a mansion holds no door

For our weary feet to talk less of a floor

Our sethood changes not even if Satans in conventions abhor

So fight even in this poor


V

I will always you cheer

Even if tears blind in my fear

I will always your guns share

Even if ammunitions of injections and medications cost in queer

I will always stay here

Where your fists blow death’s steer

Hoping and praying for a win, my dear

But if this breaks your gear

Know you will forever be engraved here

In this heart and always be near

For this journey is of us

You and I 

And our God whose existence shakes my mythical confusions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 2, 2017

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 25 (18+)

A pot that is determined to break can do so at the slightest heat. Dansoa sprawled on the hardened tiled floor with head raised looking at me. Pedro ordered “abrirla!” Although I didn’t understand what it meant, I knew it was an order for something bad. The three cruel men started tearing her clothes apart in front of all of us as she tried to wriggle her way out. I shivered as tears welled up in my eyes when they met hers. She was shouting and begging to no avail. There was nothing like foreplay for her. The first man, probably in his late thirties just thrusted into her like an axe cutting into wood. Blood just oozed out. The fear on the faces of the other seven girls told me they would not even try to lift a finger. I closed my eyes and just let the tears flow. I tried to shut out her screams to no avail so opened my eyes to see one’s cock heading towards her mouth. It was shoved into it like a hole. I was about to tell her in the local parlance to be calm but before it came out of my mouth, she had bitten the penis of the second man. She nearly bit it off. As he cried like a beaten brute, the others stopped fucking her and started beating her. Pedro joined in.

Suddenly, Dansoa could not shout again. Blows to her face, breasts, slaps, head banging against the tiles, fists shoving into her like her little lady was nothing but a sack. Pedro’s eyes caught mine, then he raised his gun, shot the man whose penis was hanging. His gaze still held mine. The others were more furious after the shot, and the brutal sex turned worse until she laid there like a corpse. I thought she had died. I screamed like the world was about to end and charged into Pedro like a mad cow. He fell under my fists and I started hitting him. I guess even the two men left were at a loss for words and action so looked on as I bashed the monster. Pedro tried to get me off with blows but I dodged them all and continued hitting him until blood gushed from his brows. I don’t know how long my savagery lasted, but just when I was about to tear off his penis, after hitting it with my fist for over a minute, I heard a gunshot. Felt something heavy on me, and realized Dansoa had taken a bullet meant for me. In my arms, I could not look at the faint smile that lined up her mouth before she gave up her ghost. I put her down and charged on the one who shot at her. He tried to shoot back but I guess the bullets were finished. I went straight at him as though targeting his face. He used his arms to cover his face as I hit his scrotum hard.

He fell over and started exchanging blows with me. I felt no pain, I just went crazy. The other girls joined in the fight when they realized we could take them on. One girl picked a wooden bat and hit the head of the other man, another picked a huge painting and hit Pedro’s head with it. We went crazy and nearly killed the three but for the intervention of about ten men. They were well built and armed. By the time they got there, I had almost squashed the scrotum of the one who shot and killed Dansoa. They handcuffed all of us after a warning shot and gave us some injections. I tried to stay awake but just blacked out when we were being dragged through a door we never knew existed in the house. 

The pain was severe. More like a back pain, a headache, pain in my loins, legs… I was tied to a pole in the middle of what seemed like an abandoned warehouse. My whole body was in pain. I tried to recollect what had happened only to have a blank. I looked around but there was no one around. I thought of what to do but there was practically nothing. My legs and hands were all tied as I stood by the pole, a little wriggle sent such sharp pains through me, I could barely breathe. So I stood there thinking. I thought of what to do in order to break free or maintain my dignity even if I would be killed. The best option was to be quiet and wait instead of shouting like a coward. So I stood still with my head bowed. I felt a light approaching but didn’t move until a hand held my chin to lift my head. The man was startled when I looked straight at him without fear. He stepped back and started speaking Spanish to me. I didn’t as much as try to open my mouth. I just wanted to remember what was happening. I knew I was a month from my seventeenth birthday, remembered my Ghanaian life but not what brought me here. Suddenly, Pedro was wheeled in and everything came back to me. The trick, Dansoa’s death, the rebellion and I felt like strangling him. 

Pedro was in a bad shape. He was in a wheel chair looking all dishevelled, one eye shut, the other badly bruised. He was in a neck collar and his feet continually shook. He had a look of fear as he looked at me and I am sure my murderous intent towards him was communicated well. There was a pleasant looking man by his side who looked amused at the relationship between Pedro and I.

“Miss, my name is Issidro. Sorry for all the problems.” He ordered that I be untied and given some water. I took the water and looked at him in wait. “I am Pedro’s boss. Sorry things went so badly. It was pure miscommunication.” I guess he was expecting something from me but I gave him no pleasure. I kept an unreadable countenance and just watched him, making him nervous. 

“I have a proposition for you. Miss, I can employ you to be a manager in one of my territories. I like that you are fearless, bold, strong and beautiful. I know you have experience in this business from the way you move. I will pay you more than you will ever need if you will take up the position.” My first instinct was to spit on his face but I restrained myself. He was shocked I was not affected by his offer. I thought of how I could deceive girls in the name of travelling just to enslave them in a sex trade on another man’s man. How could God ever forgive me for that? I was now getting to seventeen years old and had committed so much sin. I couldn’t add the guilt of ruining innocent lives to it. But I needed to get out in order to find a way of saving at least, my country folks. So I disengaged my eyes from his in what looked like a surrender. 

Issidro spoke calmly to his people and within minutes, I was in a classy car heading to a neighborhood I didn’t even know. It sure was a beautiful neighborhood. I was told by my driver we were going to Roma, where my apartment was waiting. It was a beautiful two storey house painted blue and white. The flowers in front of the house gave it a cosy look. Its ash tiled roof gave it some air of annoyance I couldn’t explain. Maybe because of Ms. Barwuah’s explanation that ash, apart from its connotation of wisdom, also had an expression of old age in a major sense. So more like the end. I hoped the end had not come for me. I had four strong security guards. They obviously rode behind my car. I entered and saw everything arranged just for me, hall, clothes in wardrobe, shoes, perfumes etc… The bathroom was white tiled, beautiful towels were displayed in something like a glass wardrobe. Water heater, everything anyone could think of was there but I just broke down in tears at the thought of Dansoa. I felt so guilty. Maybe I should have left her to go through the first phase. Her deflowering wouldn’t have been so bad. Her man wasn’t cruel. He was sweet by the standards of the work. Why couldn’t I mind my own business? How could I have interfered in hers to cause her death? I thought I was doing her good but I ended up killing her. I tried to pray but felt God had closed his ears, and rightly so. I thought of my mother, father and somehow, was glad I had a brother and not a sister. I was under the shower for over four hours, until I heard someone knocking on the door. I wiped myself clean, put on a night wear which I found there and stepped out. 

My eyes met the eyes, eyes of eagles. Eyes I thought I had known for a long time but impossible to link to source. I stood there frozen at the figure carrying those eyes. Suddenly, I felt I was not alone. The world continually surprised the young me.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 1, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​AT THE BRINK


I see the hollow hole

At all sides

How even this air turned mole

And the earth dug all my sides

Makes me feel like one who stole

From Satan’s slides


II

The mouth of defeat sings piercingly

Being cheered on by the drums of fear

The laughter of failure resonates across the dept of doom

If only I can see a ray of cheer

From a sky of sympathy

If only I can feel a stray air

Blowing in smile from these unfriendly breezes

If only I could get wings of a fowl to hang in mid air

To find an outer space

If only…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 30, 2018

​IN THIS POEM (CRAZY STANZAS)


On this dead branch

Carried by water, I thread

Each step, a shocking surprise

Interlaced with fear

But like a blessed cat with nine lives

The soul carries this body in moving on


II

My only cocoon is you

This poem, where my bed of peace is laid

My only home is you

This poem, where my cool waters pamper for a swim

My only shade is you

This poem, which arrests the murderous sun

And serves a breathing seat amidst all the dying

My only shelter is you

This poem, in the midst of perilous snakes

Which hide in trousers of life to defile my happiness

My only saviour is you

This poem, which baptizes to cleanse my soul

From the daily dirty stones pelted by life’s criminal side

My only hope is you

This poem, you, a perfect diary keeping my mind in

In you


III

I am so far from home

Carrying a load which directs my path

Directing dusty even when tarred roads beg for a drive

Yet I live in you, this poem

You who promise to take me back

Back to the perfect place I belong

That perfect place, where moths can’t pimp me

For the pleasure of the earth

Masking my life into a walking ghostship

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 29, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 24 (18+)

He just looked at me like a child in need of a biscuit. A born mother, surely is a woman with her heart out in her hands, dangerous or even deadly, but one overflowing with love. My heart went out to him, so I hugged his tall body to give him warmth. I had the height of an average model but he was very tall. I sat him by the dining table and served him, he ate heartily at the disgust of Mimi and I took him to his room, called the doctor who thought it could be amnesia or developmental delay. I decided there and then to be his guardian. For some reason, sex no longer appealed to me. I had to even pinch myself in order to satisfy old customers with fixed schedules with me. I was anxious and couldn’t wait for the call. It finally came a week after. I was to present my passport for it to be worked on. When I reached the United States, I would have to work to pay the expenses with 200% interest. I had no problem with that. After all, wasn’t the US a place of gold?

I was amazed at how fast everything went through. I didn’t even have to go for a visa interview. I was to meet the others for takeoff the next day. I told Mimi the next day but she threw a fit like I had never seen her do before. She told me to cancel it as it was a dangerous trip. She said people had told her how horrible they were treated on those trips to a point of many losing their lives. I guess death, when approaching, first deafens. I called Ms. Barwuah to tell her I would be gone for a while but would surely be back. Something I said just to make her feel assured. I named my big son Kossi. He was vulnerable but adorable and followed me around. I asked Shai to take care of him and told Mimi I would eject her from my house and cut all ties with her if she so much as bullied him, on my return. Ten percent of my profits were to go into his care. 

Mimi just insulted and cried. It was sad how she only cursed God for blinding my reasoning. I sneaked out of the house after bribing the security man who loved me as a daughter. My light bag in hand, I chartered a taxi and went straight to their office. We all took off ten minutes after my arrival, to Accra. It was a four hour ride but we were held up for 33 minutes because of the dense traffic around Achimota. I was thrilled as it was my very first travel outside the country. We were taken to Travis Bar and Restaurant to eat and proceeded straight to the airport. Our passports were given to us with tickets when we were going through the security checkpoints. There, I saw Mexico written on it and was confused. Our caretaker might have read it on my face so passed me a note that we’d go through Mexico. I relaxed a bit, but couldn’t get rid of Mimi’s voice and tears. 

We reached Mexico in what seemed like days because of my anxiety. Mexico City was beautiful but nothing too special from my home capital. Only, people seemed more livelier and carefree. We were driven to a neighbourhood called Merced. There, we were locked in immediately our rooms were shown to us and left there to rest. We were 48 in number but only 10 of us were kept in the house I was kept in. I went straight to bed because I was very tired. Others spoke at length about how weird it was but I had no ears to listen. They too, eventually slept. 

The next morning was a real struggle. We tried to look for a telephone to no avail. Called out to neighbours but none seemed to hear us. We all tried to break the door when a giant screen in the hall showed us a wrinkly Mexican, probably about 45 years old but looking older than his age. He barked and ordered that we sat to listen. We were to be prostitutes to grow his company. He would be generous to feed us but if we tried to run away, he wouldn’t mind sending us to our graves. To him, we were his slaves. He dared us to try to defy him. One loud girl whom I never had the opportunity to know, not even in name, barked back: “This isn’t what we signed up for Mr. This is illegal and against…” before she could finish her sentence, a bullet rushed through her forehead, killing her instantly and giving us temporary deafness. Fear surged through all of us. We didn’t know where the bullets came from, we only saw a hole on her forehead and another at the back of her head speeding through her in opposite directions. Pretty as daylight, tall as a mermaid, with a choco brown skin anyone would die for. She was that first candle in the torrential tsunami. 

We were to be tested before our roles would be given. Those who were able to satisfy their men would be sent to their own flats with security men. Those who couldn’t would be trained and given a maximum of three months to cope. Failure to cope within the three months was tantamount to death. Our lingerie were beautiful and perfect for our skins. After eating, we were asked to wear them and wait in our various rooms. I saw the fear in the eyes of the youngest amongst us. She was fifteen. Dansoa was her name. She told me of the fact that she was an orphan and a virgin. She just wanted a new environment to forget her parents’ death. My heart went out to her but my hands were tied. I didn’t have the power to do anything, let alone help her. 

My guy came in a minute after noon. He looked normal, not tall, not short, just average Mexican with black teeth. I nearly vomited upon seeing him slyly smile at me but I remembered what Mimi taught me. “Think of the best person who made love to you and use it to satisfy pigs.” And so I did, and decided to take charge. As I got up from the bed, he just slapped me so hard, and pushed me on the bed, tearing my lingerie apart like a savage. It all took me by surprise. Before I could gain my composure, he penetrated me like a horse. It surely was painful but bearable compared to what I had seen and experienced before. I only hoped he’d stop biting my breasts but was afraid of what might happen to me if I showed even a little resistance. Yet I could not help thinking about Dansoa. The pig went on and on and on for over 45 minutes, thrusting and not coming. Nothing surprised me anymore so I laid there in an uncaring mood. He finally came when I used my forefinger to insert into his ears. It took him by surprise but he came. I was shocked at his cumming manners. He kept on hitting me and roaring like a lion and a boar combined. That was the first sound I had heard so different from the cum sounds of maniacs I had encountered. He left after a minute of rest and I crawled to the bathroom to see what was left of me. It was bearable. Black skin was after all better with bruises. The bites were visible, the slap marks were also representing on my face but promised to go down soon enough. I rushed to Dansoa’s room hoping she was alright.

She was lying on the bed terrified by her own shadow. I asked her to go to my room. She thankfully understood and went. I took her lingerie and waited for her client. He was a gigantic pig with a mean look. He wasn’t aggressive at all. The sex was thankfully okay as he wasn’t too big. It lasted for a little over fifteen minutes. He laid in bed for ten minutes, kissed my cheeks and left. I hurried to my room and asked Dansoa to go back to hers. She was grateful but I didn’t know how I was going to keep up with it. 

Two hours after our first clients, our boss walked into the house with three men. He called all of us to the hall, nine of us and called me out together with Dansoa to step forward. I knew there and then that there was trouble. The slaps I got said it all. He barked like a wounded dog and asked who I thought I was outsmarting. Then he held Dansoa by her hair, threw her on the floor and called his men to step forward. My heart sank into my stomach. What did Pedro want? What did he want to do to the poor girl? What scars was he going to give to the poor orphan? I knew the tears of a virgin was a curse to a rapist in some parts of my country but didn’t know of Mexico. A place where human lives are taken over by just anyone with power. Dansoa looked into my eyes, her terror visible and calling on me to do something. But, but, but…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​WHAT YOU DON’T SEE


A star that annoyingly glitters

With just a 26 alphabetical order

One whose words are like blows

One whose words are like lightning

Striking bad clouds and digging goosebumps

One whose words can draw beauty in minds

One who has arrived in many towns of the nation

And continues to charm

That may be the words on your mind

But what about those you don’t see?


II

A skeletal build

With veins of neglect

Blood of stress and thirst

Meat of hate and pure hunger

Skin of punches of cold in a harmattan visit 

And bowl of heat in sunny days

Nails which have tasted the hammer of many quarries

Eyes which have joined the run against death

Legs which have collapsed and been whipped by need to a wake

Why do I see them so well?


III

In every glitter lies a story

A story that can reflexively call for your sorry

And may even unchain your worry

To get on your sympathy lorry

So clap not in jealousy

Bite no tongue in a revenge challenge

Think of the worry within the glitter

And applaud its shine

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan 27, 2018

IF I HAD LISTENED TO MAAME (CRAZY STANZAS)

If I had listened to maame

I won’t be stuck in the middle of this road of life

Carrying a burden that my shoulder breaks

One that has taken over my sanes

Farming bloody rains around my once starred eyes


II

She did tell me not all that glitters are metalsmithable

And adviced I cleaned, bit into, burned

To verify authenticity before singing the Hallelujah of worship

No matter the wings and shine of my find

Did I listen?


III

The sun preyed on my fancy

And connived with all the garbage in shinning stones

Winking in blinking into my sinking

So I picked what was not

Thinking it was what was

Now I stink so bad

On a heavenly road whose scent mask me out


IV

How can youth so blind

Making this head turn behind 

Even when legs pull?

How can age not be shed

Like skins which outlive their time

To fetch rightness in the past?

How can perfection so wrinkle

In time’s deadly exploration

In giving surprised heart attacks?

How can remorse not be a magician

To right all wrong in all that is strong?

How could I have been deaf to youthful exuberance

Letting maame’s voice go

With the deadly winds of the past?


V

If I had

If only I had

If only I had listened to maame

If only I had honoured the words of my vehicular womb

Earth would certainly have been kinder

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 26, 2018