Apemso palace sat in all its royalty. It was the only wooden structure in the whole Akan Kingdom. Made up of a cluster of storey buildings constructed by some foreigners Ohene Asaa’s father brought getting to the end of his ruling, Apemso Ahenfie was the heaven on the Akan earth. It had sixteen rooms to a storey, four in all. The King’s, Queen’s, Princes, Princesses and workers. Since there was only one heir to the throne, and a Princess at that, the Prince’s building was a white elephant, and now the princess’. The light in the palace was off. King and queen both felt bored at all times, one or the other called maidens to ask about the well-being of the princess in their confusion only to be respectfully told she had been taken away by her husband.
Ohene Asaa was lost in thought when his praise maker’s beautiful appellations woke him. He saw one of his spies kneeling in front of him. The leopard skin on which his knees tasted shook somewhat. He knew there was trouble in paradise. There was friction just three days in the marital camp of the princess. “It seems her husband is not happy about something and dislikes her guard like no man had ever shown.” The king’s heart leapt. He dismissed him and proceeded to his wife’s chambers.
The meeting was arranged in the Apemso palace. Ohene Abrokwah Gyan sat in one of the beautiful stools in the secret chamber sipping palm wine in a polished calabash, awaiting the King of Akan Kings. He was always glad to be in the presence of the great Ohene Asaa. One whose appellations could drug a hardened opponent.
“King of the royal gods of all lands, one with the mind of the blend of an ant and hare, face of a lion, claws of a tiger, bones of an elephant, eyes of an eagle, heart of a conqueror, and a body of a spirit! One whose footsteps bless the earth, spittle serves serenity on the heads of fertility, urine is the best drinking water even in rain, approaches.” Nana Abrokwah stood to welcome him and the pleasantries followed until they were sure they were alone.
“A house surely needs a spark. What is a house where fires are never lighted? Of what use are trees without fruits? Even strangers can try cutting them down with certainty of getting away with it. My good friend and in-law, the elders say we speak in proverbs to the wise and I know you have grasped what I am driving at. When nuts fall from your hands into mine, there is no loss because we are standing at the same place, at the same time, trying to feed the same mouth. Let’s try securing the biggest because you know the hosting lacks nothing in security even if its golden couple fly hither. My mouth has fallen.”
Nana Abrokwah was always intrigued after Ohene Asaa spoke and what came out of him did not surprise him. If anything, it made his respect for him soar.
“Who is a bird to battle a big and heavily rooted tree, when a small stone from a young hunter’s catapult can snuff the life out of it? You have spoken well King of the Royal Gods. From the day those birds were put in one nest, they had been even more of yours than mine. I know the gods blessed me with many birds but they did put many eagles in a perfect soul just for you. Every minute I spend with your treasure is a pleasure I can’t measure. But I know this is the better soil to plant those two seedlings, so they can get better care. For we are all farmers but aren’t you the best of the best and the highest? Thank you for considering my permission important. I know you did not need it. I will treasure this courtesy forever.”
With that, the conversation was over. Nyamekye and her husband were to stay in the Apemso palace until they officially gained the stool. Kumnipa was not enthused. The first thing that came to his mind was “they want to bring me closer in order to bully me”. But after carefully considering the words of his father, he saw the prospects in the idea.
“Why live beneath the anthill while your seat idles above? Consider that even little ants bite better if they taste a different skin. You are fortune’s best pick. One who fought the giants for a hand he was never to have and won. Do you know the nightmares I had when the battle was announced? A man is he who keeps his fears in his pillows. No matter what your fears are, you will have to sit and drown them in your determination. A word is enough if it is to the ears of the wise.”
He tossed and turned. Obviously he had no idea about his plight. No man could stand carrying a drum for someone else to beat and take the glory. Yet what his father had told him that day after his outburst at breakfast did make sense.
“A man is he who smiles even if his woman spits on him in public. Why? Because one who loses his grasp in chambers is sure to lose his face in the midst of friends while playing draft. A woman feels respected if issues of discomfort are discussed without a fifth eye. A man who gets a woman like the one you have, can never eat his food and expect a full plate there and then. Trust me, you can only have that in a vomit. If you need the love of your subjects, respect from your followers, dignity for yourself, treat your woman as you would treat yourself no matter the circumstances, at least in public. You did not buy her, you earned her with your life.”.
The night was cold; harmattan whistling through the dark and biting nostrils in delight. In the mind of Kumnipa, the battle continued and promised no end. He was to choose to stay close to his powerful blackmailer king of a man, with one he earned with his life. One whose beads would never willingly submit to his touch. What was worse? He could not open up to anybody, not at all. He regretted asking for Ama as a token. She was never a compensation. Not at all.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics


The palace of Gyae Saa was the biggest mansion in the whole empire. With its vast compound, thick mud fence wall and over twenty bedrooms of magnified clay storey building, three open huts, it stood out from whichever part of the empire one stood. In the night, the thatch torches made it even more beautiful. Children gathered outside its park-like outage to play. Kumnipa clearly heard their adorable voices as noise and added to his irritation. He stopped himself from opening the door severally but the urge became stronger each time. He gave in, boldly opened, only to see Nyamekye wrapped in the arms of Boadu, who was looking adorably at his sleeping secret bride. He lifted his eyes to see Kumnipa and made to sit, waking Nyamekye in the process.
“Please is there something you want?” Nyamekye asked calmly. “I was just checking if you needed something.”
“That is sweet. Thank you. We are alright.” With that, she pulled her man to lie on his back and laid on his chest as Kumnipa and Boadu locked eyes. One could sense the silent battle brewing between the two. Nyamekye kindly asked him to get some rest as it was a long day. He reluctantly stepped back and closed the door behind.
Once in the hall, he realized a functioning mind is the most dramatic thing a body can have. His mind became a stage where so many stories of happenings in the chamber played. “Boadu aggressively tearing off her beautiful dress and taking her by force, no, there was no sign of torn clothes. She playfully biting his ears and whispering “I am yours my love, take me and do with me as you please”. Boadu greedily flipping her on the soft thatch bed with cotton covering specially made for him, and pounding her to his delight…” Kumnipa could not stand it. The part where his imagination portrayed him a laughing stock anytime his back was turned drove him ill. Going out would mean he left his bride on the first night and generate gossip, staying in that hall was also driving him crazy. After over three hours of pacing and making up stories in his head, he called his trusted body guard, asked for one of his clothes and left with him to the archery field in the palace. Kronom knew better to question the crown prince of Gyae Saa and the future king of Apemso. So he just competed with him and lost terribly. Still, he sensed his uneasiness. He even felt the prince was crying within, but if ordinary men were not to cry, who was he, a common body guard, to suggest a whole crown prince was?
They went back before daybreak. He just laid on a mat in the hall until he heard a knock. It was a little after cockcrow, around 5am. The maidens had come for the lady to help her get ready for breakfast. Kumnipa quickly got up, barged into the room and asked Boadu to go to the hall and dress appropriately. Boadu was angry but just looked at Nyamekye who signalled him to cooperate, picked up his clothes to cover his nakedness and went out. Nyamekye wanted to say something but a look at Kumnipa, and all that vanished. She decided to bring up the conversation of respect for privacy in his lightened mood. He refused to sit on the bed, and just rudely asked “Won’t you get up and dress? Your maidens are ready to give you a bath.” She picked a cloth from a table close by and wrapped herself beneath the bedsheets. Just then, there was a knock on the door, Kumnipa opened, clad in mmarintama, as the maidens happily accompanied the princess out. He did scatter the bed in his rage after, but there was none saw it as the servants put things together right after he left, giggling about the intensity of the first night. Judging by the blood stains and the scattering.
Boadu stood behind the princess during breakfast. “What are you doing there? Foolish guard! Who is going to kill the princess here? Know your place and wait outside!” Kumnipa barked when he entered. His beautiful kente with its matching beads made him look grand, his heavy ahenema, made him regal and his mean countenance made him seem in charge. Ohene Abrokwah Gyan was startled by his son’s outburst but was not one to call him out in the open. He just looked at Boadu, who stood quite scorned and at the same time petrified, and with a wave of his right hand, dismissed him. Nyamekye lost her appetite, as she watched Kumnipa. Everyone at the table saw her displeasure as Kumnipa, who could not be bothered, ate heartily.
Ohene Abrokwah called his son into the inner room. When he reached there, he watched him for a while. Kumnipa fidgeted having an idea of what was to ensue. “Sit, I have a story to tell you.” Uncomfortably he sat, all the while asking, which tactic is this?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics


Many factors contributed to winning the battle of warriors where a princess’ hand was concerned. Favour from the gods, favour of the royal family, skills in wrestling, favour of the weather (some fought better in harsh conditions) and emotions involved. All the Men among the MEN fell one way or the other with bruises and fractures leaving three MEN. Warriors, MEN of MEN born by MEN with strength, skills and traits worthy of kingship. Barwuah, the Prince of Akonta, Barnieh, the son of the king of Amansan and Kumnipa Kwasi Gyan, heir to the throne of Gyae Saa were the men left. All strong with personalities that charmed one way or the other. The King and Queen wished with all their hearts that Barnieh would be defeated as he was known to be one of the proudest princes alive. He might have felt the hatred and acted a bit distracted, causing him to taste the sword of Barwuah, helping Kumnipa to also pierce Barwuah to end the fight. Kumnipa who fought in the wrap of a lion, raised both hands as he observed the hails of all except the princess of Apemso who looked like a goddess, clad in the most beautiful of Kente and beads to match. Her ahenemma was one made with class. Everyone noticed her unhappiness but dared not mention it. It wasn’t that she favoured either, her countenance was just unreadable all day.
The marriage ceremony begun that night with preparations and lasted for more than a fortnight. During that period, Nyamekye’s parents worked on the understanding of both men. Kumnipa disagreed at first, saying it was even a crime against the gods of their land for a royal to push a horse while a slave rode on it. Boadu who was shocked after getting to know the status of the love of his life asked to be allowed to think over. Many things played on his mind. He conceiving children that another would claim in the eyes of men, he owning a body that another would be known for all through, he being called a guard in metaphorisms. He was just confused. It was more like the case of the Santrofie bird and the dilemma of the hunter. Hit it and it is a taboo, let it go and you let go the best fat ever. What was he to do? When he saw Nyamekye, all the confusions cleared. He knew he could not live without her and agreed. Moreover, his whole family was brought from Apremire and made a family of repute with just a rumour of their relations to the royal house. Even the elders were fooled as the king told tales of the former king begetting Boadu’s mother in secrecy.

With Kumnipa, Ohene Asaa dug deeper into his escapades and realized he was involved in the attack of one of his brothers which resulted in his death. That brother was the crown prince before him. Kumnipa after being blackmailed, reluctantly agreed knowing the repercussions of his big secret coming out. In exchange, Ohene Asaa asked that he chooses any damsel he fancied in Apemso. He had heard of Ama and had wanted her from the moment he heard of her exploits as a warrior. He chose her and the Ohene Asaa had no problem getting her consent. Both men were sworn to secrecy. Boadu was to be one of the camouflaged guards of the queen during the day, and her bedmate at night, Kumnipa was to be the husband known throughout Apemso and the world at large. The meeting was intense as both men nervously looked at each other until the end.
On the last day of the ceremony, Ohene Asaa and his bride advised Nyamekye to be bold and smile in order not to raise any needless suspicions. She was more than glad to oblige. For she had gotten all her heart desires. Kumnipa’s family brought the last gifts as merrymaking went on the whole time until the bride was given out with her guards and servants to be sent to Gyae Saa. In order not to arouse suspicion, Kumnipa ushered Boadu and Nyamekye into the royal chamber while he slept in the hall. It was funny the way thoughts of Ama vanished from his mind. Hardly had they settled did he get the craving of peeping and getting to know what they were up to. He had not thought it would be that difficult. He did not anticipate the boiling of his blood, racing of his heart and taunts on his mind. He stood up, held the door knob as his heartbeats shook his very ground. He was jealous beyond measure and above all angry.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Banter in Court: A Sizzling Play Directed by Elsie Srodah Showing July 28, 2018

A thrilling play is about to rock your world in Accra. The play, to be performed at Terra Alta, Abelemkpe Traffic Light opposite Allied Filling Station and stars Bex, Cecilia Anno-Barnieh and Gideon Boakye. It is happening on the 28th of July, 2018 at 7pm. Rate is a cool 40 cedis for advance tickets and 60 cedis at the gate. It was written and directed by Elsie Srodah.

A sneak summary:
Banter in Court is a dramatic comedy set on an intriguing playground with many disclosures to offer. Fiery lawyers Alexa Bill and Martin Yeboah are joined by other raconteurs: the tell tale clerk; an eccentric scientist, adulterers, a quack Bishop, a no-nonsense woman and some perpetual beings. Together, they highlight the many legal, ethical and personal quandaries people can relate to.
Meanwhile, it is Judge Koomson’s 10th anniversary on the bench and he is in no mood for time wasters. Perhaps, it is time to give the gavel a break. After all, the wheels of justice grind slowly.
Tickets are selling at Airport Shell, Terra Alta, Food Market opposite Round House. Call 0268032534 for further enquiries. Don’t miss it. It’ll definitely make your day.


Tickles followed giggles, smiles followed even the dumbest of jokes. Beautiful flowers were murdered through forceful plucking to be gifted for swoons. Edible ripe fruits fed Nyamekye and Boadu until the sky begun to frown, telling them there was a house and people they needed to go back to. Ama was worried and had combed the area severally with Akoto, Boadu’s sister, in search of her princess. But they were not seen until they wanted to be seen. And when the land of the house finally tasted their feet, all eyes could not help but notice the change in both of them. Ama wondered if she had been placed under a spell. Auntie Mansa and Akoto were shocked to see Boadu smiling from ear to ear anytime his eyes met that of Nyamekye. It was clear Cupid’s arrows had pieced those hearts together.
That night, Boadu caught the biggest and most beautiful antelope ever. He did that flawlessly too, making him think even nature supported his new found treasure. He worked on it in the bush, looked for palm leaves and made bɛdɛ (a kind of bag made out of palm leaves) and used it to carry the meat home. Nyamekye heard him return and went to welcome him. Although he chastised her a bit for not checking before coming out, it was all smiles and happiness throughout the fire lighting, roasting until dawn when they were told by Auntie Mansa to go to bed as Boadu needed to catch some sleep.
The girls stayed in Apremire for over a month, helping the family in their farming activities as Boadu fed them with all the delicious game he was lucky to have hunted. Sometimes, he took Nyamekye hunting to the displeasure of Ama. She was always baffled at how he knew exactly where he had laid his traps, when to shoot arrows, when to act dead to lure his game, when to hide for dangerous animals to pass and how he heard and distinguished between the various sounds of animals no matter how faint.

Ama had made her promise to leave exactly a month and three days and her pride would not let her have the shame of postponing it. She told Boadu, who was so sad and begged to go with them but she lovingly turned him down. Auntie Mansa, who had grown to love Nyamekye as a daughter in law, and Ama as family and her daughter, Akoto, were heartbroken. Nyamekye promised to be back for Boadu. She described Ama’s family as hers and went on to part ways, breaking her own heart. She always looked at the wooden bracelet Boadu gifted her anytime she missed him, but it didn’t help much.
The rest of the journey was not as fun for her as it was in the beginning. They went to Opim, Adabre, Emuanna, Baamukye and passed through Asewase through to Amasan and finally to Apemso, their homeland.

They spent close to four months on the journey. The royal family was thrown into merriment. The king was particularly happy just as the queen was. All were invited to eat and drink in thanks to Odomankomah for his protection. Ama was asked what she wanted for her good job. She asked for a chance to be added to the warriors of the land. Although her mother was against it, the king granted her her request.
A week after they returned, the king and queen woke Nyamekye up at dawn and told her about her man hunt. The fact that warriors from fifty empires had been invited to battle for her hand in marriage. She got up and burst into tears, asking why they did not consult her before sending those invitations out. It was the first time she had raised her voice at her parents. She apologized when she saw how shocked they were and explained she had someone she wanted to marry. She told them to their horror that he came from Apremire and was a local hunter and not a warrior. The King was horrified and retorted “Apremire? Do you know they are accursed slaves of Apemso?” And what is worse, you are a princess who will be the queen and needs to marry a warrior who will show above all else that he is mighty, strong and will be able to take care of this land.” Her mother calmed the king and reminded him through a whisper, about the promise they made for her birth and the repercussions if breached.
“Maame, do you want to be the queen of this land?” Nyamekye emphatically affirmed her interest saying “It is my destiny. I have to be queen of Apemso, to help the land prosper through any means. I want to make my people happy”. They asked if she could choose between the two and she refused, saying she needed both. The King and Queen were at a loss. On one hand, she wanted to be the queen and on the other hand, she wanted to have a tabooed relationship. Nana explained to her the situation in which she was placing them but she would have nothing of it and made them promise to make her marry the love of her life and also be a part of the ruling of the land.
That night, the king cried and the queen helplessly looked on trying to think through a way. After days of thinking, they agreed on a solution. A solution the gods of the land would definitely see and punish them for, but a solution they would nevertheless use as their hands were tied. They will make her marry both men. Boadu in secrecy and the victorious warrior publicly. Whereas she would share a bed with Boadu who would act as her bodyguard during the day, the warrior would just be her ceremonial husband.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics


Hands seized both girls and swung them on a rope across trees. Ama wanted to fight it off but a sixth sense asked her to wait for an outcome. Three minutes later, they were on a vast grassland with a visible settlement. Ama held Nyamekye, lowered her into the sharp grasses and with a sliding curve, swung her underneath. Nyamekye had never known fear that intense and could barely catch her breath from the experience. She stayed in Ama’s arms until she let go to find out about the arms. But she was not to search for long. “Come out girls, we need to get out of here as soon as possible. My house is close by. You’ll be safe there. Here in these grasses, snakes…” He didn’t finish before Nyamekye sprung out shouting on top of her voice. The voice laughed so hard, followed her voice and caught up with them. “Your Majes… I mean Nyamekye, remember you were fortified against snake bites so you have nothing to fear”. She stopped talking when she realized that the voice hosted a slim and tall man and that man was standing very close to them.
“Before any introductions, let’s get out of here into safety.” He had barely finished talking when he led the way. After walking for what looked like forty minutes, they reluctantly entered a small settlement with three mud houses. He took them to an empty room which had straw mats and few cover clothes with a lantern. There, they saw how handsome and young he was. Ama started questioning him as Nyamekye just starred. When she came into consciousness, she heard him talking. “I am a hunter who fixed ropes on trees to serve as an escape root in case I needed it. My father, who is now late taught me to do that. You were lucky I heard those hooligans chasing after you. They are brutes who could have killed you you know. How can girls like you walk unprotected in these dangerous slopes? Apremire is one of the dangerous villages in these parts. Weren’t you told?”
Nyamekye explained that they were definitely not told. We are wanderers, trying to know these plains. We are from Apemso. “Apemso. Our bosses. You know they own these lands? The very richest bosses in the whole of Akatamanso. Don’t worry. You’re now safe. My name is Kwabena Boadu and I live here with my mother and younger sister. They sleep in the room to your left. On your right, that small structure is the bathroom. The other one after is a place of convenience. The room after my family’s is mine. Knock on that door if you need something. Meanwhile, there are big pots outside with water in case you need it. For wanderers, you have very few things.” Ama thought for a while and realized it was true. Nyamekye had insisted on taking nothing besides few gold coins and few clothes with a cover cloth each. With it two manageable gourds filled with water. They were to feed on fruits in the wild and buy food if they were lucky to meet civilization. She only sneaked in a small foldable knife. Both girls got their sponges and had a bath before sleeping. All the while, Ama was on a lookout and very alert. Nyamekye kept assuring her that there was no cause for alarm. She kept watch as her princess slept. There was no order that could make her blink. She didn’t want to disappoint the king.
At cockcrow, she heard the sound of a sweeping broom, then a humming. She knew the sister of Boadu was the one sweeping. Nyamekye woke about an hour later and they both went out only to see calabashes of white porridge served on a waiting table. An elderly woman sat with an empty calabash in her hands. A young girl who could pass for their age mate greeted them with happy and dancing eyes and offered them saawe (sponge made out of chewing sticks) and a calabash each of water to wash their faces. “Your hot water is ready sisters and I sent them to the bathroom for you.” Both of them went to kneel in front of the woman of the house, Auntie Mansa, and greeted. She was happy to have them stay over and asked them to hurry so they could eat. They bathed, ate and the familiarity made Ama comfortable to the delight of Nyamekye. She excused herself to sleep as Boadu took Nyamekye around. She couldn’t stop staring. His skin was as black as ebony and shone above the morning sun, his height was above the normal range of most men his age, he was soft spoken and very hairy. So much so that the bente he wore with the cloth tied on part of his shoulder showed very beautiful and shiny hair on his chest, hands and legs. His facial hair looked soft and when he smiled, Nyamekye nearly fell. He was however swift to catch her, swinging her to face him as their eyes met blocking some rays of the rising sun. Nyamekye’s heart raced but she heard a louder heartbeat from the chest whose eyes had pinned her down. “I think I am, I am, I am…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “…in love? If that is what you meant to say then I am too” Kwabena Boadu said, his breath and grin making it barely audible as she nodded smiled like one who had stumbled on a treasure.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 39 (18+)

All pains are pains but every pain has its painful pivot which knots the centre of the heart. Undergoing a major plastic surgery in Winter was nothing like the pain I had known. Even in a well heated room, I felt the fingers of cold poking into my bandaged sores. My cheeks burned, areas around my upper lips itched, areas around my temples ached and every fibre within me served as an irritant. Billy was calm all through, taking my nagging with humour that mostly left me ashamed. I remember telling him to go to hell for his sins and leave me in mine, he replied “Hell without my Attaa? Gosh that would be the hellest of hells. I will fight Satan tooth and nail and die in that hell where you are”. He was a perfect gentleman, a very cool comforter and the best nurse I had ever had. Although I had a special nurse who was in charge of me, Billy was always there. Even when something required his urgent attention, he’d have them sent through mail or Skype to talk it through. He only left for a day or two when the matter was of security importance and called almost every two hours to check on me.
The physical pain was nothing like the emotional pain. For some reason, I Googled “plastic surgeries gone wrong” and Jocelyn Wildenstein among others filled my screen. I was afraid, devastated, and anxious. The “what ifs” filled my mind making me lose myself in sadness. My mood swings fluctuated like Nigeria’s power outages at its worst times. I was complete wreck. One minute I was in a deep melancholy, sitting and staring blankly into space, another minute I was crying like my life depended on it, another minute I was pessimistically surfing the net for all that could go wrong, another minute I thought of my blessings in being able to outsmart my chasers, another minute Ntwanu was looking for me in my mind, another minute I blamed myself for not being loyal to my saviour, one who had seen me through all that I had gone through. It was a bad state to be in. After three weeks of ingesting supplements including Vitamin C and other pain killers, Dr. Grashem came to take off the bandages. Even a minute to that, my anxiety made me vomit in anticipation.
One bandage after the other and Billy looked at me with countenances that sunk what was left of my soul. “Is this normal?” Billy asked. The Dr. was sure that it was normal. I begged for a mirror to see for myself. That was when I saw the swollen parts of my face with all the bruises that looked like a battered boxer after meeting a cruel contender. I nearly passed out until the Dr. told me it was a normal healing process. He cleaned my face, gave me some more injections, smeared some balm on it and bandaged it again telling me he’d be back in two weeks. Truth be told, the pain had subsided but I still felt too sore to engage in sexual activity. What was worse, I couldn’t imagine myself as I saw in the mirror, making love to Billy. It was too shameful that I locked myself in the bathroom afterwards, causing Billy to sleep in front of the door until I was ready to come out, eight hours later. I felt stupid after seeing his posture. I learnt about his patience and maturity with each passing day. He could have ordered for the door to be broken down, chosen to chastise me in the most authoritative way to make me feel worthless, but he just opened his eyes, got up, held me in his embrace for over a minute and asked if there was something I needed to eat or drink. He never for once asked or suggested even in manner, for sexual activity. It made me respect him more but a part of me also felt he may feel I was too shameful to touch. Anytime I felt like the latter, I acted rude towards him but he never for once complained.

Billy continuously assured me that all would be alright because he was going to ensure that. I noticed so many things in that house. There was an ultra-modern cinema, a nice swimming pool, a very well maintained gym, and a meditation garden only filled with scented flowers of different colours and just one comfortable sofa. I had everything to help me heal but every healing thickened my cruelty. I felt the world had failed me, the world which lived in classification of beings through birth, monies, gender, cognitive blessings and talents. The world in whose cruel hands I fell, culminating in my quest to be better and hence choosing the worst paths, the world where no good comes out right in a bad field, the world which only spanked the needy even in the same pot of the wealthy, writing “outcast” on foreheads of poverty. I felt angry, pained and ugly from within. Instead of repentance which I felt was one of the arbitrary doctrines to subdue Christians, I felt determined to do more in order to feel better. Suddenly, I had reason to hate instead of love. For those who had been good to me seem too few as against monsters in my chase.
I couldn’t wait to completely heal, I couldn’t wait to completely deceive, I couldn’t wait to completely face my enemies on a battlefield of anonymousness. By Jove, I felt like the murderer the world carved with torture, and I couldn’t wait to work my part.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 37 (18+)

“If your superior has complete control over you, they can take off your ring through your shoulder”. This is a proverb my father liked very much. Lying helpless on someone’s bed without the knowledge of any beloved, this proverb came to mind. Billy could kill me to stop any rumours from circulating. He could easily find my true identity by just a picture search through the internet, so what was the point in hiding anything from him? I waited until he got a grip on himself after his laughter and told him everything about me. From my real name and where I really came from, to life in Kumasi to the Mexican trip and turnout, to bolting. I only downplayed Ntwanu’s role with his gang because I knew it was a matter of national security even in the United States. I also didn’t want to cause him any trouble.
Billy sighed loudly and left me by myself. I looked around the room and realized the only way out would be through the ceiling but there was no trace of an opening. There were no windows in the new room I was and I was too weak to try an escape. I could barely think. He came a little over an hour with some articles from Mexico about me. He was practically in tears. I had seen people care for me but hadn’t seen the ache and sympathy perfectly painted in the mirrors of his eyes. He had softened so much, knelt and took my weak body into his arms. He sobbed softly for a while and whispered into my ears “I will protect you. I will protect you even if it takes my last breath.” It was my turn to be shocked. I was fed and treated well but there was no sign of letting me go until he opened his thinking pods for me to pick my peas in choices.
“Either you choose to live quietly without going out ever or agree to a facial plastic surgery. The thing is, Attaa, the latter would be better”. I loved the way he mentioned my name breaking his two syllabic sounds in between the double “t”. It felt good being called by my own name after five years but it was heart-breaking, what he was presenting to me to pick a choice from. He further explained that there were easy ways observant people could see through disguises. So the more radical the approach, the better my life would be. He also quoted the internet mantra: The internet never forgets.
I wept that day. Thinking the face my relatives knew must change for my safety and peace of mind made me more miserable. “Would my family take me back? Would they accept me if I begged them with proof of who I am? How do I live with a face God didn’t originally give? Is it not a sin to altar the creation of the most high?” These questions flooded my mind but it was obvious I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I so wanted to talk to Ntwanu but at that point, couldn’t get through to him no matter what I did. So I chose the surgery. Even that, I thought it through so much. Won’t the surgeon squeak? Will Billy and I last forever? If not won’t it be risky entrusting this important way of escape in his hands? The pain was nothing I couldn’t handle knowing what I had endured in the past so I made up my mind to let it go.
I was in a towel after my bath when Billy walked in. Surprisingly, he turned instinctively when he saw me and apologized. I was in awe and I couldn’t hide it so asked him. “You’re someone I need to respect from now on. An inspiration I need to treasure so I need to give you your privacy”. This answer mesmerized me. I walked straight to him, held him from behind so tightly that he had to beg to breathe. He turned, I stood on my toes and kissed him with passion, tears rolling from my closed eyes. He froze at first, not knowing what to do but I ordered him to please me, to touch me, to satisfy the burning need I had for him and he yielded. It was one of the most passionate love I had ever made, from the bottom of my heart. We cuddled and ordered in meals happily presented by his cook, then he told me about the date for my plastic surgery and the surgeon contracted to work on me. I started shivering from within with a new surge of fear whose source I didn’t know. Billy held me tight.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 2018

Photo Credit : Google Pics

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 34 (18+)

Those who have much to lose, tiptoe in foot wears of society’s deviation, lest they are fried in their acts in its gluttonous mouth. It was a long ride to the destination. I was blindfolded when I was picked and had to sit with it all through the ride. Ntwanu knew I had a job so I felt partly safe although we were not talking much after I started work. I had gotten in touch with Mimi who was very glad to hear from me and wanted us to catch up on old times but had to be careful because I was a wanted woman in Mexico. The silence was scary. I was about to let the driver know I needed to use the bathroom when the car stopped. I was helped out by the very gentle driver who made sure I made my way to my destination safely.
A voice asked me to take off my blindfold and go to the bathroom to change into the army attire. It was more like a bikini. I looked stunning and the heels that matched it looked classy and made me bold. When I re-entered the room, I saw a man who looked important by the way he dressed, looking at me like some sort of prized carving. He came closer, inspected every part of my body including my little me, and turned to take off his golden cufflinks. He was in a white long-sleeved shirt which looked really expensive and what looked like a trouser suit with a texture I found difficult to tell in colour. He wore a cap which almost covered his face. “Make yourself comfortable young lady”. His voice commanded and demanded respect all at once. He had the heavy accent of the American; fast speaking and flawless. I still could sense his need to hide his face. I sat on the very large and comfortable bed, stretching and letting down my guard a bit.
“What do I call you?”
“Lover Viv” I said in confidence.
“I need two things from you, discretion and surprise. What do you say?”
I just didn’t know how to reply this but I managed a “both would be my pleasure” answer. Then he turned, bent down to look into my face making me see his as well, although not entirely. I knew I knew him, one of the most powerful men in the House of Lords. I did know him because he was mostly the voice many respected, if he said a bill won’t be passed into a law and vice versa, so be it. He was not married, looked like a 56 year old but was young for his age. I was trained through my experiences never to show surprise, so my mood and countenance did not change, making him bold enough to take off his cap.
I got up from the bed, chose what seemed like a bat among the many sex tools in the sofa, and ordered him to sit down. He was both amused and surprised but definitely thrilled. He obeyed. Take off your clothes like you’ve met your master. I yelled, deliberately intensifying my accent so as not to be caught from inside my body. I watched as he pretended to shiver, took off his clothes one after the other until he stood naked in front of me. I had learnt some tricks in acting in military style and rocked it. “You’ve been a bad bad boy Billy. I asked you to take off your clothes like you’ve met your master but you acted like my boss. Turn for your punishment. He knelt down beside the bed, his naked bottom right in my face. I hit him once, not with force, and he flinched a little but I could sense his pleasure, continued to hit him harder until he ejaculated.
I asked him to get up, stand on one leg for a while as I gave him a blow job. The instructions were not to make the mistake of making the other leg touch the floor and cuming before I told him to. His hands in the air, he murmured “Your wish, my command”. I knelt, first licked his balls, he started shivering, then took the whole balls in my mouth and watched him pleased and desperate to obey me. It was really relieving. When I took his hood which stood erect in the man world, he started swaying from side to side. From deep throat sucking to playing with his stem, then his tip, he was mesmerized, coming into my mouth even before I was done.
Because he failed at one of the instructions, I stopped, picked one of the vibrators, lubricated it and shoved it in his rear. He laid on the bed, shivering in pleasure but sobbing like a baby, pleading with me in the process, as I sat there looking at him. A master turned servant in the bedroom far far away. “Women are tools in themselves” I thought. For three minutes, I watched as he held the vibrator which worked on his ass and felt good about myself. I felt in charge and told myself I was one of the strongest people in the world. Why? Because one of the strongest people in this world kowtowed to me. I took over the vibrator, roughly shoved it in and out as he whimpered, removed it abruptly and started smacking his buttocks. It looked like roasted beef by the time I was through with it.
His shouting could be heard miles away if the room was not sound proof. I ordered him to do thirty press ups without a break and he obeyed. I could see he was very tired after the eleventh one so asked him to stop. I went into the bathroom, fetched some heated water, picked a towel and asked him to lie on the bed. I tended to his buttocks, then cuddled with him beside me and started a passionate lovemaking process. I kissed him, caressed him, but by the time I was ready to be worked on, sleep had knocked him out. So I held him in my embrace and slept. I woke up after 6am.
He was watching me, in reverence. I sensed something more, like he wanting me to be closer from then on. I kissed his forehead and told him I had to go.
“I will give you 50, 000 dollars every month if you stay as mine and mine only.” I was shocked but did not show it, I got up from the bed. “I would get you a luxurious place to stay, with everything thing you can possibly need, Lover Viv, please think about it”. I still did not know what to say but after a while, I turned then asked “Can I see other people?” a big fat “NO” was the answer. I told him I’d think about it, went to the bathroom, freshened up, took a cheque four times the promised amount and was seen out. The driver was given specific instructions that shocked him. He opened the door for me without suggesting a blindfold and drove me home in silence. I did meet Ntwanu sitting in the hall, looking into space. I greeted and made to go to the bedroom when I heard “How was it?”
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 2018
Photo Credit: Google Pics

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 33 (18+)

Change has its upsides and as well downsides. The sex with Ntwanu was just okay to my disappointment. I felt a déjà vu that was unusual and daunting and strained to have it come to an end. He was no fool, so he felt it but was too sad to ask. I was also too ashamed to bring it up. It wasn’t my intention to make him feel bad, I had not the slightest thought to communicate displeasure through our pleasure. After all, I initiated it. That evening, we both walked on our toes, afraid the slightest sound might cause chaos in the house. I was particularly uncomfortable because everything in that house belonged to him, including common water to quench my thirst.
As I slept like a stiff wood right beside him, I felt him hold me tight in his embrace after what seemed like forever. I pretended to be asleep but my veins may have given me out. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you now Bee. You know what our relationship means to me.” I felt some warm liquid on my back, and realized he had been crying. My saviour, lover, friend like no other, but I had managed to break him. I turned slowly, with no knowledge of my own tears, and started wiping his with both hands. “I am sorry. I don’t know what is wrong or happening to me. I definitely love you, it’s just that something feels different and I don’t know what”
His silence was a very sharp cane. His tears were my worse nightmares but he told me he understood after a while. “I have never seen a strong girl like you before. I know you have been through a lot and will surely want this connection even if it means just being your guardian angel although it would break my heart”. Those words cut into me like a sharp machete and broke the skies of my eyes. I cried until my pillow drowned.
The next day, he took me to a party. My kind of party where connections to utilize my expertise abounded. It was easy to be signed up for a booking which promised to pay 15,000 US dollars for an hour video. All I had to do was present my body, be ready to follow the script of sex styles and pretend to enjoy the raw sex even if I didn’t. I was assured though that the man involved would be tested for sexually transmitted diseases and told to see them for my blood sample before leaving. I was very happy because I was going to make my own money and not depend on Ntwanu who had come to be known as Manor. The party was classy with so many refined people. I felt good about the profession.
Ntwanu was happy for me but sad I had chosen that path again. To him, he wanted to see if I had gotten over it, put me through school if I wanted and set me up. But that was not in my plans. I wanted to, of course, further my education but had no plans to rely on someone to do so. At first, I thought of returning to Ghana to see how Mimi and our business were doing but upon getting the contract, I decided to stay, get some money before leaving the states.
The set was bright pink. I was to act a spoilt brat of a very wealthy man who loved big black dicks and was to engage in a one man fantasy. The sofa was white and pink, the bed had light pink bedsheets with about four pillows and six little side pillows. The chandelier was huge with what seemed like tear shaped diamonds which had a special glow in its lit stated. I was mentored to initiate it to make it impossible for the guy to resist and I did.
I called for water and he brought it, I poured it intentionally on the frontal of his trousers, then held it in my bid to pacify him. He tried to pull away but I forced my left hand into his supporter, bringing his little man out and forcing it straight into my mouth. It was scripted to be his weak side so he became weak with need and succumbed to the pleasure. Then he tore off my pink lingerie, turned me in doggy style and stroked for more than five minutes, laid me by my side with one leg up and pumped me for more than six minutes, lifted me to the sofa, put my ass on its armrest and pumped me for more than three minutes. I had not known the guy would be as big as he was, did not know he could stroke for as long as he did and in such painful styles. But I was not to show pain, all I had to do was show pleasure by smiling, moaning and begging for more. At first hand, I felt the pangs of hypocrisy right in my skull. I asked myself how actresses and actors live with thoughts of pretence in exchange of money but I guessed they are mostly not as fucked as I was. What irked me was the fact that I was supposed to swallow his cum and pretend it tasted like my favourite ice cream. I tried my best and lived as they wanted all through the hour, had my cash sent in the name of Vivian Vevoda and left with my bruised beneath.
I did all these things in my disguise, went home, sat on hot water and ordered some mending products online for my little me. That hour of pain and shame did not equate the wealth accrued. So I thanked my stars. That same evening, I had a call that a powerful man wanted me to entertain him for 5000 dollars just for a night the following day. I was to be blindfolded and dressed in an army wear which would be provided for me at the entrance. I tried to guess which powerful person it would be until sleep, which knows no excitement nor pain, stole my consciousness on the excuse of rest.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

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.

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

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

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

Barcamp 2017, Tamale

Barcamp Tamale 2017 is a free networking forum bringing people together for a day of learning, sharing, networking and dialogue on Tamale, Ghana and beyond. It will take place on July 29, 2017 at the  Tamale Sports Stadium. The theme for this year is “Empowering the Youth through Innovation and Professionalism”. About the theme, the lead coordinator for Barcamp Tamale, Nashiru Muntasir, said “This year’s theme seeks to foster innovation and professionalism among the youth.”.

The GhanaThink Foundation has successfully organized 72 Barcamps in Ghana as part of its Barcamp Ghana program since 2008. BarCamp Tamale 2017 will be a showcase of leaders, entrepreneurs and innovators in the Northern Region. Discussions will center on empowering the youth for better development across all sectors. It will be an event for many people who live and are interested in Tamale to learn, share and network. Ato Ulzen-Appiah, the director of GhanaThink Foundation, said “So many young people here have been empowered through Barcamp Tamale, and this is the 7th edition. We’re excited about its continued impact”.
The Barcamp will feature multiple user-generated breakout sessions about business, social entrepreneurship, technology and development, alongside topics relevant to the Northern Region and beyond. There will be a speed mentoring session where mentors will give insights and answers to questions from attendees. Confirmed resource personnel include Alima Bawa of CowTribe, Sachibu Mohammed of Green Eaf and many more experienced mentors. 
Register/RSVP at the BarCamp Tamale eventbrite website ( or text “Barcamp Tamale [name] [email address] to 1945 through any mobile network. Contact the team at barcamp at about any partnership opportunities or enquiries. Barcamp Tamale 2017 is supported by Tigo Ghana and  Coca Cola Ghana Ltd. Our media partner is StarX TV and Zaa Radio in Tamale. Join us to move the Northern Region and Ghana forward.
Stay tuned via our #bctamale hashtag.

Stay tuned via our social media. Twitter | Facebook | Google+

Launch and Live Streaming of FaceOff With the International MP by Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng

This link is for the live streaming of today’s launch.

Foreword to FaceOff With the International ‘MP’

“It is often said that we take ourselves too seriously, and do not laugh enough. If this description fits or suits you, then please stay as far away as possible from Rodney and his writings [scratch that!]: read the book in hiding. I introduce to you a reverently irreverent writer who pulls no punches, wears no kids’ gloves, bars no holds and suffers no fools gladly. There is not a topic that Rodney is shy to address, and frontally and bluntly too. Rodney treats, [scratch that!] specialises in the topics that one might want to avoid; but by the time he is done, you absolutely relate to both the matter and his treatment of it. Or you hate him for it. His presentation is rich in language, imagery and humour. He is not shy to take digs at himself and so when he does that to others and the issues that he handles, it is just Rodney being Rodney.
I first ‘met’ this self-described “Honourable MP for Facebook” on (you guessed right) Facebook. Nobody elected him. He does not stand for re-election. He is self-anointed, self-appointed and self-titled. And to top it all off, he has chosen his own “Stool Wives” (three of them!), explaining that the position of an ‘African’ MP on Facebook must come with certain ‘fringe benefits.’ He has carried this make-believe ‘marriages’ so far that once when he had a public ‘tiff’ with one of the ‘Wives’, he received a genuine inbox message from a reader, reprimanding and excoriating him for quarrelling with his spouse in public!
We were students in the University of Ghana at the same time; or so he claims – I have absolutely no memory or recollection of him from those times. And I don’t remember whether he requested my ‘friendship’ on Facebook or I did his. I think that was the time he was about to relocate to Ghana from the UK. But somehow we got connected and hit it off like a house of fire. Once he settled in Ghana, he turned his fire and ire on the things that keep us back from moving forward as a people; and with his finely-honed wit, unrestrained humour and biting sarcasm, he has sought not to throw the fabric of who we are away, but to change some of the weak strands of the fabric, one frustrating strand at a time.
Rodney does not hide his obvious political bias, and freely admits that his political views are deeply influenced and coloured by that bias. Yet when you read him teasing, and ripping and tearing into his own side of the political divide, you are left wondering where that bias is…, until he returns to teasing and ripping and tearing into the opposite side of the divide. When he does that, he invites leading proponent-opponents to read his writing and answer back. He relishes in the exchanges and is full of witty comebacks. He wears his opponents out with sheer energy and vim.
Occasionally, he takes one on the chin. But I have seen him ride the punch and come back even stronger. He is your YING-YANG, at once your light and darkness, softness and hardness (Rodney, no naughty puns intended), in and out (Rodney, be careful!) and giver and receiver (Rodney!!!) This book marks his transition from the soft copies of electronic media to the hard copies of traditional paper books. But it doesn’t change who he is and what he does: an enigma and a riddle, confused and confusing at the same time.
You will find in Rodney, your well-hidden antithesis that is probably your real self, the self whose existence you deny to everyone and even convinced yourself does not exist. Thus in welcoming you to this book, I just welcome you to yourself. ”
— Ace Kojo Anan Ankomah. The 290-page book by Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng, his third book, is published by DAkpabli & Associates, Ghana, and will be launched on 23 June 2017 at the Christ the King Parish Hall, Accra. All are invited.

Kindly like and follow when we are live, you will get notifcations.

(Courtesy: Nana Awere Damoah) 

Buy Books by Amoafowaaa Sefa Cecilia on Amazon



“Her head did not fall within the norms of beautiful heads, it had two chambers and a frontal porch, (something far from the round head society deemed beautiful) and her physique was nothing to write home about. She was skinny to the bone and those bones were glaringly conspicuous. She raised her head to the silent and terrified stares from the sophomores and the final year students. She knew she was not beautiful, but she didn’t think she was that ugly until she saw the looks on their faces as they watched her”

Rigo Tales is your classical high school story retold to you in all its ramifications with the crude edges intact. Set in the cold Kwamo highlands, the inexorably thickening plot launches the reader on an excitingly breath-taking trek down the memory lane. At each turn and curb, what counts for the reader is the ring of authenticity.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia excels at pacing her narrative, which races forward, mirroring the frenetic lives chronicled; school boys and girls swept up in the bewildering change; the almost stoic persona of Abena seeking solutions to problems never faced before, the humanity of GKA the prim and proper school head teacher, the relentlessness of Ogunsa, the happy-go-lucky and mean Nipasco group; all melting into that bottomless pot called Kwamo Rigo.

Perhaps, what makes this book a  breezy read that keeps you devouring the pages and yearning for more, is the courage of conviction, strength of character and love for family that encapsulates the very existence of the ugly-headed yet sweet-spirited protagonist. She affirms life while admitting its turbulence, melodramas and misfiring passions.

A solid meaty tale that does not disappoint; dramatic, suspenseful.  The smooth reading makes it easy to forget the time and keep flipping the pages.

Amoafowaa Sefa knows how to wring the emotion out of the briefest scene and I am so honoured to foreword this book.

Chris Worla Essikpe

Lecturer, African University College of Communications – Accra


Also on Amazon:


(Also to all new writers in Ghana, you can contact Nana Awere Damoah to help you publish on Amazon for a small fee. Contact him through Facebook.)

Know that for each book you buy, 30% of proceeds goes to support the Autism Help Foundation. Thank you)



This Saturday and Sunday, #GIGI will steal the show at the #ChaleWote festival.

Everyone who comes to the fair wearing #GIGI will leave with something exciting.

There will be a draw, and winners will get FREE #GIGIs (show up at the WearGHANA stand in your #GIGI, drop your card or name on a piece of in the bowl and you could be that lucky customer)

But there’s more, come take a pic with our #GIGI koliko, load that up on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram with #GIGI, get the most likes and you get to win a #GIGI. And there will be an amazing #GIGI parade of #GIGIlets. You really don’t want to miss out on that.

Together, let’s steal the show. #GIGI anaa no size. Enti hy3 wo #GIGI na hyia y3n w) #chalewote

Nana Damoah and Kofi Akpabli to Host Book Readings In and Outside Accra

Last year, two Ghanaian writers Kofi Akpabli and Nana Awere Damoah gave themselves two targets: to do regular (preferably quarterly) public book readings and to extend the reading sessions beyond Accra.


Last year the duo held two readings. But could not go outside Accra.

For 2016, they had the same objectives and so far, they have done three readings: at PaJohn’s (Jan), Sytris Bookshop (Feb) and Vidya Bookstore (June).

For this quarter, Kofi & NAD intend to do two readings and finally achieve the second target: a double-strike; readings in Accra (3 Sept) and Kumasi (24 Sept).

They continue on their mission to make reading hip again. These writers, with 10 books between them including popular titles Tickling the Ghanaian, I Speak of Ghana, Romancing Ghanaland and Sebitically Speaking, believe that reading should be done for pleasure as well and not only for exams.

Come enjoy the sound of the written word.

Do share with another friend! Bring a friend!

Get caught reading.

#Like #Share

2016 Barcamp Tamale at GNAT Hall a Huge Success

2016 Barcamp Tamale came off at the GNAT hall in Tamale on 30th July, 2016 with over 200 people in attendance. The motto was as usual “Vim” and “More Action, Less Talk” with the theme “Empowering the Youth for a Productive Nation”.  Many mentors from Agriculture to Humanities to Aeronautics mentored participants who left satisfied and motivated. Senyo Kpelly, Ruka Yaro, Hikmat Baba Dua, Abdul-Mumin Damba Tahidu, Victor Pul, Nafisa Adams, Carole Donkers, Nana Kyei, Ken Kubugu, Abdul-Mumin Yussif, Ibrahim Mustapha, Yaw Adu-Gyamfi, Innocent Kafembe, Peter Kwarteng, Udit Shetty, Geoffrey Buta, Nana Kojo Bartels, Timothy Akanpabadai were the capable mentors. 2016 Barcamp Tamale was sponsored by TigoGhana and Tafta, Savannah Signatures, Hopin Academy. There was the open floor which was the starter, breakfast, speed mentoring, lunch and another group mentoring. All mentees left satisfied and well networked. Speaking to Ato Ulzen Appiah who is the director for GhanaThink Foundation he said:

It was great to see an impressive diversity of #bctamale participants, many who participated for the first time. We had over 15 mentors who have gotten rave reviews from the mentees. This is the 6th Barcamp in Tamale and the fulfilling thing is that, some participants from the first one in 2011 mentored today. This signify growth.

It was indeed a successful programme and the organisers: Maccarthy Lomotey, Peter Awin, Nashiru Muntasir. Yakubu H. Yakubu, Kofi Larbi, could not ask for more. The breakfast was cool and lunch was delicious. Below are pictures from the event.

IMG_1737 IMG_1736 IMG_1734 IMG_1724 IMG_1723 IMG_1722 IMG_1721 IMG_1720 IMG_1719 IMG_1717 IMG_1715 IMG_1714 IMG_1713 IMG_1710 DSC00617 DSC00512 DSC00511 DSC00510 DSC00509 DSC00506 DSC00505 DSC00504

Photo Credit: Amoafowaa and Jaward.

Fresh on Amazon “Secondary Rhythms” by Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

Introduced by Onyeka Nwelue and forwarded by Chris Worla Essikpe, Secondary Rhythms is fresh on Amazon.  Dr. Mrs. Philomena Yeboah, Lecturer, KNUST English Department had this to say about it:

“Amoafowaa’s Secondary Rhythms captures the daily battles of her protagonist Abena, who fights against the emptiness and squalor of her family and personality, using diligence and long suffering as efficient tools. Abena, irrespective of her limitations, thrives academically and morally in Kwamo Rigo, a low-grade secondary school. Amoafowaa powerfully maps out the tortured routes of female progress. The young writer has called on us all to cast a retrospective glance at our past again so we can learn and share lessons through Abena’s journey through adolescence into adulthood. Abena will make a lot of friends all over the world and this is because each of us continues to traverse the rough roads of life – yet with optimism that success is assured.”

You can buy it on Amazon through this link:


Remember, for every purchase, 30% goes to fund the Autism Help Foundation in Ghana.

Nana Awere Damoah and Kofi Akpabli’s Book Reading on 18th June 2016


Nana Awere Damoah and Kofi Akpabli’s book reading at Vidya Bookstore takes place in Osu on June 25, 2016.

“She couldn’t take another year in prison. She couldn’t even think about it. It had become so loathsome that it was almost preferable to die than to waste away any longer behind those walls. So her appeal began, not to the Governor, nor to the warden, but to the prison undertaker. The undertaker was responsible for all inmates who died. He placed them in coffins, sealed the coffins, and took them out for burial.

After some time, and using female wiles, she was finally able to persuade the man to help her escape. The plan was simple. The next time someone died, he would allow her to get into the coffin with the dead body. He would then nail the lid shut, take it out to the graveyard, bury it, and return under the cover of darkness to open it and free her. There would be enough oxygen in the coffin for that amount of time.

Eventually the opportunity came. Someone died. According to the plan, she sneaked into the darkened parlor and crawled into the coffin with the body. Shortly after that, the lid was nailed down. She felt the movement of the coffin as it was carried out to the waiting wagon. There was a rocking motion as it was pulled out of the prison yard, through the gates that were locked upon her for so many years, beyond the walls that she could never climb. She felt the wagon stop in the paupers’ graveyard, sensed the downward motion of the coffin as it was lowered into the hole dug for it. A swelling sense of victory filled her. The ploy was going to work!

She heard the clunking noise of earth being shoveled onto the coffin, until at last she could hear no more. Now it was only a short wait until the undertaker would come for her. Being curious, she lit a match to see who had died.

In the brief flare of the light she saw who it was. It was the undertaker… ”

— Nana A Damoah, Excursions in My Mind

Join Kofi Akpabli and Nana Damoah for more at their mid-year reading.

**Picture credit: Paa Joe – Master Coffin Maker



What do you call an oufit that you can share with your brother or sister, wife or husband, boyfriend or girlfriend?
What do you call an outfit that looks equally great on males and females alike?
How about GIGI?


That’s what the folks at WEARGhana call their latest creation: the world’s first truly super-cool unisex outift with a touch of African. And before you say unisex ain’t your thing, remember two words: polo shirt.
A truly creative fashion label, WEARGhana has always sought to expand the frontiers of Ghanaian fashion. And this is another mighty leap forward, and in the right direction


According to Co-founder Awura Abena, this is what led to the creation of GIGI, “At WEARGhana, our aim has always been to help Ghanaians look great at all events, wearing made-in-Ghana outfits. We noticed that while a lot of progress had been made in the formal and semi-formal categories, we really didn’t have worthy alternatives for casual foreign outfits like the polo shirt. And we realized that was a huge market.”
So what did they do?
“We went to work to produce an outfit, that was easy to wear and maintain, fun, great looking and truly casual. And affordable. And we ended up with the beauty we have christened GIGI”


Angorkor, the other half of the WEARGhana duo added, “GIGI is a t-shirt with unique statement print details. It’s both dressy and casual. Initially we were torn between presenting it as gents or ladies wear, and then ended up thinking, “why can’t it be both”? A ‘dress shirt’. So we tested the concept for a while and the response was overwhelming.”
Now here’s what you need to know about GIGI: 
It’s available in countless exciting colours (navy, white, yellow, turquoise blue, purple, fuchsia, green…) and comes in 2 designs: the flap and the diagonal.


Ladies can wear it really short for those hot events or knee/ midi length. And guys can rock it like they would a polo shirt or t-shirt.

And it’s moderately priced. At GHS 70, you can afford to stock your wardrobe with enough GIGIs to make unforgettable fashion statements wherever you go.
So now we can’t wait to go to parties, the club, and see the GIGIs driving the polo shirt crazy.
Go on, call/ whatsapp us on +233243766202 or +233244827003 to place your orders. Or simply send us a message on our Facebook/ Instagram (@WEARGhana) page or website:


Efya performs. She looks great in her dress. Make up on point. Very on point.
Efya can really sing. And she is a Great stage performer!
Gospel Artist of the Year goes to SP Kofi Sarpong.
Hi Life Artist of the year goes to Bisa KDei with Mansa. Presenter of the award was Tonyi Senayah of Horseman Shoes
Hip Life/Hip Pop of the Year goes to EL still with Mi Na Bo Po.
Reggae/Dancehall Artist of the Year goes to Stonebwoy with Go Higher.
Omar Sterling of R2BEES represents on stage. Cool performance. There is some classy thing about his performance. Mugeez joins and the stage lights.
The Best Female Vocalist of the Year goes to Mz Vee!!! Well deserved! She looks stunning.
Best Male Vocalist of the Year goes to Pat Thomas. I must ask what was Hamamat Montia wearing? Soo horrid and where have her breasts travelled to?
Best Rapper of the Year goes to Sarkodie.
African Artist of the Year goes to Wizkid.
Joe Mettle performs. What a voice! Very powerful performance. It should have been the opening act.
Best Collaboration of the Year goes to VVIP with Skolom.
Best Group of the Year goes to VVIP.
Best Producer of the Year goes to EL with Mi Na Bo Po.
Best Music Video of the Year goes to EL with Shelele. Sparks controversy.
Best Record of the Year goes to Sarkodie featuring Pat Thomas.
Best New Artist of the Year goes to Kofi Kinaata. Well Deserved. Susuka was, is and will forever be a hit!
Most Popular Song of the Year goes to Bisa KDei with Mansa.
Wizkid performs. Cool performance. Wizkid announced that he has signed Mr. Eazi to his record label Star Boy Records. On it are R2Bees, Efya and himself. He called him on stage to perform.
Album of the Year goes to Bisa KDei.
Artist of the Year goes to EL.


Songwriter of the year goes to Kofi Kinaata. I must say it is well deserved. Susuka is a very very cool song.
Gospel Song of the Year goes to Nicholas Omane Acheampong with Aposo
The High Life Song of the Year goes to Bisa KDei with Mansa.
Reggae Dancehall Song of the Year goes to Stonebwoy with Go Higher.
Adoma who is an internet sensation rocked the stage although her beginning was a little too dramatic.
Bisa KDei must be commended for rocking his African Print suits. Cool stuff and his performance is okay. Not dramatic at all although a bit dull.
Hip Hop Song of the Year is Sarkodie with Hand to Mouth. Was expecting R2BEES’ 1990 to make the cut but what do I know?
Hip Life Song of the Year goes to Atom with Ye Wo Krom.
Afro Pop Song of the Year goes to EL with Mi Na Bo Po.
Finally Kofi Kinaata on stage. Been looking forward to it for long. His first performance is just okay. Not too special. Just okay.
Finally my favourite song from him in performance; Susuka. Nothing can go wrong with this performance. Well, it flopped on stage but still, I love it.


TESA MUSIC GROUP takes the Traditional Music Award.
Winner for the  instrumentalist of the year is Justice Williams, aka Shikome.
Sound engineer of the year goes to Kaywa
All presented by Obuor and Minister of Tourism, Culture and Creative Arts
Best Music for Development is Milla Odartey Lamptey popularly known as Gasmilla. Takes home five thousand Ghana Cedis sponsored by Midland Savings and Loans
Lifetime Achievement Award goes to A. B. Crenstil. He takes home five thousand Ghana Cedis by the Ministry of Tourism Culture and Creative Arts.
Stonebwoy’s performance was, to me, average. Sometimes performing head on is best than giving it too much side additives. So average for me.

Ob Abenser’s Ghanaian Fashion Showcase at the Accra International Conference Centre on 24th April 2016

What do you think Andrew Carnegie would have said if you had asked him in the 1800s if there was a steel industry? Somehow I can’t imagine him saying that it was non-existent. I can almost hear him say ‘it’s growing and it’s going to transform many industries throughout America and the world.’

One of the commonest questions about the fashion industry in Ghana is ( you guessed right): 
Is there a fashion industry in Ghana? 
I guess people ask because they can see many many areas that need to be improved in the industry. Like our primary school teachers, they mark our scripts and write in red ‘can do better’ sometimes even drawing an akokɔti 🙂

So why and how did such an industry attract a man as brilliant as Ob Abenser? I guess like Andrew Carnegie, he sees how this industry can impact the country and continent.

Ob, who describes himself as a documentary filmmaker and blogger holds a B.A. Sociology from the University of Ghana, Legon.

In an interview he says he had gotten tired of the complaints about the negative narrative on Africa by the western media. ‘If you won’t do anything about it, shut up’.

So he did 2 things. He established a full house media production outfit, Excelsis which has gone on to work with clients like Vodafone, KACE- AITI, Google Ghana, The African Regent Hotel, etc. This would enable him tell the African story the African way.

Then he founded Auntie Oboshie ( then FashionistaGH). He had noticed that there was a vacuum. The most popular stories (apart from the ones on disease and wars) on Africa were on politics and sports and he had noticed there was some brilliance being displayed on the Ghanaian fashion scene. He wanted it highlighted and documented.

Ob and his team have organised several shopping festivals, lecture series and business soirées, all with a focus on Ghanaian fashion. In 2013, he was named an Innovation Hero by Google and the Ministry of Trade and Industry for his outstanding contribution in using the internet in innovative ways to improve society.  
In 2014 he was named Social Media Contributor of the Year at the Fashion Icon Awards. 
But Ob’s greatest award is undoubtedly the respect he has won throughout the Ghanaian fashion industry. Almost every fashion house in Ghana has an Ob story to tell.

This Sunday, 24th April, 2016, AuntieOboshie presents a showcase of Ghanaian fashion from the 60s till now. The event will be held at the Accra International Conference Centre from 1- 9 pm. It’s free to enter.

Come. Come for 2 reasons.
1. To support Ob and his solid team
2. Come and see for yourself what Ob saw in 2011 –  the strides being made in Ghanaian fashion. 
#WEARGhana and several other leading fashion brands are bringing their A game and it promises to be an exciting event.

We salute you today Ob and we celebrate your contribution towards making Ghanaian fashion globally relevant. Ayekoooo!!!!

#AuntieOboshiePresents #HearUsRoar #CelebratingGhanaianGreatness
Story and phito credit: Awuraa Abena Agyeman of Wear Ghana.

childreN of the mountaiN; One of Ghana’s Most Powerful Movies of all Times World Premieres in New York on 17th of April 2016, and on July 1, 2016 in Ghana


When I was told about publicising a Ghanaian movie on, I showed no interest but my friend Perez Dziwornu insisted I did because of a special surprise, then this caught my attention.

New York, NY USA: The 2016 Tribeca Film Festival (TFF), presented by AT&T, today announced the first 55 films to feature in this year’s festival. Among the films selected was the film “childreN of the mountaiN” produced in Ghana by I60 Productions.

The film is the first feature from writer, director and producer Priscilla Anany who took her short film “Hospitals (Korji)” to Cannes Film Festival in 2013. “childreN of the mountaiN” is about a woman who has a child with cerebral palsy and a cleft lip who believes she can get healing for her child. She wonders from disappointment to disappointment trying to leverage her meagre earnings as a yam trader in the market. The film is set in Accra, Ghana and also a remote village of the Volta region of the country by Lake Volta. The film is in Twi and Ewe and stars a fresh Ghanaian/Nigerian actor called Rukiyat Masud who has done films like “Chelsea”, “Black Beauty” and “Sorrow of Madness”. It has some industry heavyweights like Akofa Edjeani, Adjetey Anang, Grace Omaboe (Maame Dokunu), Dzifa Glikpoe, William Addo (Akpatseh) and Bex (Agbeko Mortty).

Films are submitted in their thousands to the major festivals. Sundance this year had 12,793 films submitted of which they chose only 122 features and 72 shorts. Tribeca received 6,626 films so for Ghanaian film to be selected is a big accomplishment.

Robert De Niro, Jane Rosenthal, and Craig Hatkoff founded the Tribeca Film Festival in 2002 with the mission of contributing to the revitalization of lower Manhattan in the wake of the September 11 disaster. Thirteen years later, the Festival has grown at a remarkable pace, and brings together members of the international film community and movie-lovers of the US to the greatest and most diverse city to celebrate the power of film.

Writer∕Director Priscilla Anany said of the news “It took some time to make the film and it got to a point where the struggle to complete the film overshadowed the reason why I had started out to make the film in the first place.  Being accepted into the Tribeca film festival awoke my drive and motivation and reminded me of why this story is important to share with the world any why it’s important to me.”

Still not convinced, he told me the movie was in two Ghanaian languages; Akan and Ewe with subtitles in English. That got me interested. For these two beautiful languages of Ghana to be promoted worldwide for others to see and familiarise with them was something that struck a chord. Then I watched the trailer and I was totally charmed. The story line of a dedicated mother with a child who had cerebral palsy and a Cleft palate facing challenges from within (in self doubt, pain and disappointments), facing challenges from the society who thinks it abnormal for a woman to have a child with disability, some associating it to all kinds of evil ( and we know that this is the reality on the ground where Ghana, I know, is concerned), For the Writer∕Director; Priscilla Anany,  to think of this evil in society and make it into a movie whose dialogues catch attention and appeal to the senses of all is something that is not only commendable but extraordinary. So I thought, finally, some women will be empowered, finally, some parents will be stripped off their clothes of shame and clothed in understanding and love as they should, finally society will rethink its unfairness towards people living with disabilities and their families, finally some evil in the society is being shown the exit as enlightenment appears to claim its throne in the heads of those who lack understanding where people living with disabilities are concerned. Humans deemed snakes will reclaim their human status, humans tagged evil will have the evil severed from them. I thought on and on and on and they were all delightful thoughts.

What is equally catchy is the fact that this film represents the first full length feature film produced in Ghana and by a Ghanaian to be officially selected by such a major internationally recognised film festival. To applaud like I am doing now, you need to be there for the world premiere in New York on the 17th of April 2016 at Regal Battery Park Stadium 11 (RGL) 102 North End Ave, New York, NY 10281 6:30pm

childreN of the mountaiN” will be first premiered on the 1st of July 2016 (Republic Day) at the Silverbird Cinemas, Accra Mall.

After my interview with Agbeko Mortty known as Bex, I understood that the movie was made for all the right reasons. Even the title having a special feature of end capitals to depict that anyone can have a disability. Luck may be a deciding factor in all that regulates the world. Although I would have loved for the Editing to be done in Ghana by Ghanaians, I will say it is absolutely a good start.

Good movies we watch, good books we read, give us the right knowledge, give us the right wisdom to discern facts and put ignorance in shame. A satire by all standards that raises questions and strikes the chords of conscience of every individual no matter how uninterested. For those in the USA, please watch the premiere and see from a different geographical era the cultures that differ, the love that anyone can relate with, the pain that anyone can feel and the humanity we share. I highly recommend this movie for anyone, everyone who wishes to be enlightened and wants to be in touch with his or her humanity.

For more information on the film one can engage with the producers on social media; . Twitter @cotmfilm and Instagram @cotmfilm

Look out for the hash tags #ThisAfricanFilm #cotmfilm #indiefilm and #tribeca2016

Picture Credit: Q-Vision Limited.


Headed by the indefatigable and hardworking Randy Sedem Agbodo and supported by Charity Batuure; the Autism Help Foundation got the full backing of the Wa School for the Deaf’s section of neuro disorders and the walk came off in the morning at exactly 9am.
Some members of the community joined to lend their support to the children as they celebrate World Autism Awareness Day on April 2, 2016.















The Wa walk was also a huge success. Thanks to all stakeholders concerned.


April 2 of every year is World Autism Awareness Day and to commemorate this day, Autism Help Foundation organised walks in two regions, Northern and Upper West and partnered the Autism Ambassadors of Ghana to walk in Accra. The Yendi walk, with the pupils of Yumba Special School and Portia Dery’s African Youth Writers Organisation members, started around 11:00am as the rains made travelling from Tamale to Yendi a hurdle. Thankfully, the Yendi Police Commander made sure our escorts were ready by the time we reached there.

Protected by five strong escorts, we started off at the palace of Kampakuya Naa Yakubu Abdulai, the Regent of Yendi who gave his blessings days before the walk. We spoke to many people, enlightened many whose idea of people with neuro disorders ranged from evil to spirits to witches in rivalry. We were thankful most of them confessed they had learnt to keep them alive.

Enjoy some of the pictures.






Great thanks goes to Autism Society of Ghana who supported this project, Nana Awere Damoah, Alexer, Mash Cudjoe, Portia Dery, Ruka Yaro, teachers of the Yumba Special School, and all the volunteers. And to the AHF team and its chairship, I say Ayekooo!!!

Any Other Monday Premiers at SilverBird Cinemas, West Hills Mall and Accra Mall on March 4 from 6- 9am

Any Other Monday is a family drama produced by Abc Pictures and directed by Pascal Amanfo. It will be premièred in Accra at the SilverBird Cinemas, West Hills Mall and Accra Mall all in Accra on March 4, 2016 from 6am to 9am.
The movie, directed by Pascal Amanfo and featuring Yvonne Nelson, Kafui Danku, Doris Sackitey, Jose Tolbert, Kunle Rhemy, Selly Galley, Victoria Micheals, Emman Donkor, is a satire which makes us see that we all wear masks. A wise man once said “We all live a LIE
at some point or the other”. You want to know how true that is? Make sure you make time for the premier on March 4, 2016.  Who others think we are may be different from who we really are. Fact or Fiction? Truth or Dare? Our secrets, no matter how long we hide them, will eventually surface like oil hidden deep into water and stare us in the face. When that time comes, it will be on a day like ANY OTHER MONDAY.

(Photo Credit: Kafui Danku)


Today Noella Wiyaala is dropping the video for Leno (This Place) and releasing the song worldwide as a single on all digital platforms.

As an independent artiste owning her own label (Djimba World Records), she is free to go in whatever artistic direction she chooses. Wiyaala used her opportunity in the UK to shoot a video for “Leno” in Yorkshire. “Even better, Charlotte Appleton (Rock My Body, Go Go Black Stars) the director, came up with a great storyline set in historical times” Wiyaala said.

In the video, she plays the role of a beautiful African temptress who bewitches and seduces a young man (played by British actor Neil Tattersall)…. You will have to watch the video to see what happens!

And there is lot’s more news to come! Wiyaala’s film acting debut in “No Man’s Land” will premiere at The Accra Silverbird on the 13th February.  She is travelling

to South Africa this month to shoot a video for “Hiizi”, a song collaboration with Mzee & Rafiki, from their upcoming album with artistes from all over Africa including Salif Keita from Mali.
Wiyaala wishes you a Happy New Year!

(Info and photo credit: Noella Wiyaala)


Gradually, theatre is gaining grounds as a formidable, alternative source of entertainment in Ghana. Something big in this industry is going to happen this February. The eve of Valentine just got more interesting.

From the ink of playwright, Kobina Ansah, comes a new romantic comedy, ‘I Want To Sue God!’ Writer and director of the first ever seasonal play in Ghana; This Family Is Not For Sale, says this satire mocks how we blame God for almost every misfortune that happens to us when indeed we are the cause. Typical of most humans right?

Set in a contemporary society, this piece highlights how young couples spend extravagantly on weddings only to live the rest of their married life regretting. After entangling themselves in a mess, such couples blame either God or the devil for what they have brought on themselves.

In I Want To Sue God!, Bishop Akpanya, General Overseer of The 13 Apostles Divine Ministry, prophesizes the marriage between Kekeli and the singing bird, Arhinfoa. After throwing a luxurious wedding party, Kekeli finds out his “heaven sent” wife, on whom he has spent his lifetime savings to wed, is exactly opposite what he had imagined. She’s everything but a wife. Decision? Someone needs to be sued!

Showing on Saturday, 13th February 2016 at Central Cafeteria on University of Ghana campus, I Want To Sue God! promises to be suspenseful, fun-filled and entertaining. Kobina Ansah hints, “We seek to achieve three main ‘Ls’ with this satire; leisure, laughter and lessons.” He added, “Young people spend on weddings too much. It is about time we used theatre to correct some of these ills in society while we laugh at them.”

Laced with humour, the five-cast romantic comedy is a product of Scribe Productions and proudly sponsored by Scribe Communications. First show is at 4pm. Second show is at 7pm. Don’t miss it.




Writer Nana Awere Damoah, author of five books including I Speak of Ghana, Sebitically Speaking, has called on Ghanaian publishers to do more to push Ghanaian writers on the world front. The writer, in a chat with Amoafowaa wrote:
I Speak of Ghana listed as one of the “to read” books for tourists to Ghana. Sadly, it is the only one listed which is written by a Ghanaian:

Check out the top 50 books in the “Travel Guide” category on Amazon for, say West Africa, and you will see my point even more clearly: most of the authors listed are not West African.

Our publishers must do more to get many of our great titles on online sales platforms. We need more GH writers. We also need to promote our own.”
He also added
By the way, two great books for anyone visiting Ghana: Romancing Ghanaland and Tickling the Ghanaian, both by Kofi Akpabli.”

Photo Credit: Shika Nornoo.

Invitation to the Launch of Akua Agyekumwaa’s Hurt People Hurt People

You are invited to the launch of Akua Agyekumwaa’s inspirational book, Hurt People Hurt People. This is the blurb of the book:
“Blood boils through your veins manifesting in the seething of your teeth whenever you see them because of the pain they caused you. The sexual abuse, verbal, emotional and psychological abuse that made you feel dirty and useless any time you think about it.
Are you tired of going through all the emotions and tired of the tears? Are you tired of having broken relationships as a result of the abuse you went through? Are you too ashamed to open up to people but anxiously in need of healing?
Then this is the right book for you.
Akua Agyekumwaa shares wisdom she gained from her own experiences of various forms of abuse and practical scriptural principles to help liberate the broken hearted and bring healing to all who have suffered all forms of abuse.
You will find out
• How to identify abusive situations
• The difference between forgiveness and reconciliation
• Practical steps to help you heal
• True life stories of people who have been through abuse and have been healed
This book is the beginning of your journey to wholeness. Wholeness that will give you a peace of mind to pursue all you want to be and have fulfilling relationships.”
If you want a copy of Hurt People Hurt People, please Place your orders here:

We deliver worldwide


Nana Awere Damoah’s launch was a successful launch. The programme which took place at the GNAT Hall in Accra on December 4, 2015 saw the likes of many huge personalities in attendance. Guests arrived at 5:30pm and this was the programme line-up.

0600   Opening Prayer
0605   Welcome – MC
0610   Introduction of Chairperson and Keynote Speaker – MC
0615   Poetry – Nana Asaase
0625   Chairman’s Response – Romeo Djan
0635   Sebitically Reading – Maukeni Padiki Kodjo, Petra Asamoah & Stephen Anti
0650   Book Review – Seth Bokpe, Daily Graphic
0700   Poetry –  Chieff Moomen
0710   A Touch of Wofa Kapokyikyi – Nana A Damoah
0720   Appellations – Achiebold Acheampong
0730   Keynote Address – Prof H Kwasi Prempeh
0745   Launching & Grand Auction – Samson Lardy Anyenini
0805   Vote of Thanks – Josephine Afriyie Acheampong
0810   Closing Prayer – MC
0815   Music, Refreshment, Book Signing

MCs: Kwame Gyan, Katutey Ocansey


DSC_0002 DSC_0003

Little Damoah at post, usher extraordinaire. DSC_0004


DSC_0008 - Copy







Kwame GyanDSC_0022



As usual, Nana Asaase gave a stunning performanceDSC_0027 DSC_0029

DSC_0031 DSC_0033

A full auditorium it was DSC_0034










DSC_0055 DSC_0056









The man of the moment; Nana Awere Damoah talking about Wofa kapokyikyi the wise drunkardDSC_0083




Archibold, the great Akwapim poet who wowed his audience with his heavy lyrics and Akwapim ascent. DSC_0093

The very learned forwarder, if I can put it that way. The man brought books written by learned people from early African civilization. And spoke like the knight of words he is.DSC_0098 DSC_0099





















DSC_0135 DSC_0137


DSC_0140 DSC_0142

The time for some tedious work by the author and the lovable chase by owners who need autographs

DSC_0143 DSC_0144













Multipixel Limited (Book design and layout)
Biggles Multimedia (Publicity & Program design)
Type Company Limited (Book printing) (Online bookstore for e-books)
Wear Ghana (Clothing)
THREADEX (Clothing)
Horseman Shoes (Shoes)
Mashke Express
A Piece of Cake by Nuerki (Cakes) ( – online bookstore for hardcopies, for delivery in Ghana and globally)
Beyond Events (Decor)
Sena Fiawolikplim Wemakor (Décor)
Abeeku Entsua-Mensah (Video streaming)
Shika Photography
KP Photography

Launch of Nana Awere Damoah’s Sebitically Speaking: December 4, 2015

We will be streaming the book launch tomorrow live on YouTube.

Please bookmark the link

Not just a book launch…it’s a family gathering.

Sebitically Speaking cover_preferred

Nana Awere Damoah’s Sebitically Speaking to me, is an ice breaker if ice is sluggishness and breaking is salvation. The book takes us into a journey of advice through satires and threads many paths from personal to political. Once we all have breath and live in the same world, everyone is likely to see a part of himself in the book and hear the call of change, the power behind the writer’s voice.

That said, Sebitically Speaking will be launched on December 4, 2015 at Teachers’ Hall, Accra from 6-8pm.

Here is an excerpt of Nana Awere Damoah’s Sebitically Speaking:


“Sebitically Speaking: The Legend of Kapokyikyi

This week, I have been thinking of my ancestors a lot. Of Kwame Bassanyin the first and second; of Nana Ntiako; of Premang Ntow the second; of Bombay; of Somiah; of Egyabima and Abakoma. Of those who have gone ahead to prepare the way for the rest of us who will surely traverse the road which doesn’t lack pilgrims, willing and unwilling. I thought of Kapokyikyi. I bring you greetings from all these names, as I reflected on the memories of their lives and times.

The spirits of my ancestors keep me company as I prepare to go to my village to see the Old Man off on his journey to join his forebears. I go to Wasa to bury my uncle Kasapreko Nana Kwame Bassanyin III, the nephew of my grandfather Nana Premang Ntow II (known in private life as Nana Kwabena Damoah). I go to the village to say goodbye to the man who bears the same name as my dad Bombay and my son.

And I think of Kapokyikyi. It is now time to tell you about Kapokyikyi. You see, Kapokyikyi is not a fictional character. Kapokyikyi was my dad’s brother; you would say a half-brother as his mum was not my maternal grandmother, Efua Abakoma. But in my language, there is no word for ‘half-brother’; nor is there a word for ‘cousin’. That word is alien to my tongue and that is why Kasapreko is my Wofa. Kapokyikyi’s mother was one of the fourteen wives of Nana Premang Ntow; go to Wasa Akropong (the big city) and ask of Africa Woman, Nana Asieduwaa, and she will proudly tell you that she was the youngest wife of my grandfather. She is alive and still goes to her farm. I don’t know her age; I doubt that she does. Nana Asieduwaa, it was, who asked me once when I visited with the Wasalets:

“Nana Awere, when are you having your fourth child?”

“Nana, we are done”, I replied.

“Nonsense,” she blurted, “if your mother had stopped at three, would you have come into this world?”

Nana Asieduwaa, the Africa Woman.

Kapokyikyi lived in the old palace, which was the traditional family house and the residence of Kasapreko before the new palace atop the hill near the Ehyira River was built. I don’t remember Kapokyikyi being married. So he ate in the house of his sisters and slept in Kasapreko’s palace.

Kapokyikyi contributed no chop money. The little money he had, he spent it at Liberty Base, where the ‘hot stuff’ was sold. The stuff that Kofi Akpabli says no one ever drank and smiled.

VC 10. Kumepreko. Anferewoase. Efie Nipa. Akpet.

My uncle, Kapokyikyi, was hardly ever sober.

But his mind was sharpest when he was not sober.

And he certainly spoke his mind.

Mostly to Kasapreko. He who was reputed to speak once and definitely.

So one day, Kapokyikyi was said to have confronted Kasapreko on an issue and asked him, “Nana, wo gyimi a, wonnhu?” meaning, “Nana, don’t you realise it yourself when you are being stupid?”

Sebitically speaking.

I said it o! I did! That what a man says when drunk, he thought about whilst sober.

Kapokyikyi would exercise his sharp tongue even on his sisters who fed him, at the risk of losing his next meal. Ka na wu (speak your mind and damn death), he would say.

This week, I say I am thinking of my ancestors oo. Of Bassanyin. Of Ntiako. Of Kwame Atta. Of Yorke. Of Premang Ntow. Of Kapokyikyi.

I am thinking of the founding fathers of our nation, Ghana. I think of the courage of the ex-servicemen, the veterans of World War II, who stood up to the colonial powers. I think of Nii Kwabena Bonne III. I think of Sergeant Adjetey, Corporal Attipoe and Private Odartey Lamptey. I think of the vocal activists who shouted themselves hoarse and spoke out to get us our independence.

And I ask, what has got our tongue as a people?

I read the articles of the late writer and lecturer, Professor PAV Ansah, in these reflective moments; I juxtapose them against the current times and I ask, what has made us so silent as a people in the face of issues that demand that we speak out and straighten the crooked paths our leaders are traversing in open view?

Did the culture of silence in the eighties produce citizens of silence?

Where from this culture where we speak from our stomachs instead of from our minds? Where political patronage defines the exercise of our speech and the fear of being tagged restrains us from expressing our views on national issues?

Unless we all speak out about our speedy spiral into the valley of national ineptitude, no-development and directionless-ness without fear of being branded, there will be no hope of a turnaround. That ka na wu attitude.

I think of Kapokyikyi. I think of my own dad, Bombay, who called a spade a spade. ‘Old solider never dies’, he would say. Friendly but firm. Brother and close friend of Kapokyikyi. Kapokyikyi who would tell Kasapreko to consider his own folly, sɛbi sɛbi.

Every leader needs a Kapokyikyi. Okay, those who are biblically inclined would say a Nathan, but one definitely infused with the spirit, whether brewed or unseen.”


Greeetings ooooo
Finally, finally the D day is here.
To give thanks and praise to God almighty for how far He has brought us, we are holding an online church service.
Here’s  the order if service please. We know it might take a life of its own but this is to give it some structure

Order of service
Moderator intros day’s activities
Invites Grey for prayer
Invites Seyram and praise team
Moderator invites pastor, osofo maame and interpretor to stage
Pastor invites visiting pastors I.e. NAD, Nenebi, Asaase to say a few words
Scripture reading
Pastor preaches
Invites Amoafowaa to talk about autism project
Prosper gives women’s fellowship announcements
Ends with praises

Introduces second part of program I.e. launch of website
We put up the we are live artwork
Put up pictures of outfits
Invite people to buy

Throughout service moderator encourages people to load pictures for beauty pageant



I have three wonderful things to tell you about!This Saturday 19th September at 9pm at Accra’s +233 Jazz Bar & Grill, Noella is in concert with her official band, The Djimba World Band. The show will start at 9pm sharp and they have designed a pulsating two hour set list for you to feel the heat and rock your bodies! Don’t miss this chance to see Wiyaala & The Djimba World Band in full flow. If you’ve not seen her live, here is a little taster!

For anyone in Germany on the 3 October, she will also be performing a concert at The Kampnagel Concert Hall in Hamburg which is the climax of the two week “We Don’t Contemporary” Arts Festival celebrating the diverse African arts scene.


She has 3 nominations at the All Africa Music Awards (Afrima) due to be held in Lagos 13th to 15th November. This is a very prestigious African awards event which attracted 2558 entries from all over Africa this year. She is very honoured to have been selected. Her nominations include best Female West Africa, best African Rock Song and African Album of the Year for “Wiyaala”.

The video for her song “Africa” directed by Stanley Adjetey was also nominated in the Best Video category. This award goes to the director.

Last year she won two awards; Most Promising Artiste in Africa and The Revelation of The African Continent. And that was thanks to the enthusiastic voting from her fans.

If you want her to win again, here’s the thing…

“To win awards like this in the face of Nigerian competition with their massive population advantage is not easy. That means I am calling on all of you who support Ghanaian music to take time out to support our musicians. Now! And I mean right now!

We did it last year and we can do it again. So, please just take a few moments of your time, CLICK THE LINKS below which take you directly through to each voting page and vote Wiyaala! Please do it NOW!”

Heard from her very self. Click now.

Best Female in West Africa for my song “Africa”

Best African Rock for my song “Angel”

Best Video for “Africa” (award is given to Director)

“Album of the Year is decided by a panel of judges. Other artistes from Ghana who have been nominated include, Sarkodie, Edem, Stonebwoy, Dark Suburb & Efya. I am sure they would also appreciate your support.

Thank you and have a great day! And come on Saturday! You will not regret!

With love and peace! Wiyaala”


Press Release for Sebitically Speaking by Nana Awere Damoah


An Irresistible Literary Tiger Nut …Sebitically Speaking is released ACCRA, 14 AUGUST, 2015 Sebitically Speaking, described by Daily Graphic’s Samuel Obour as ‘an irresistible literary tiger nut every lover of Ghana must chew’ has been released in paperback, written by the Ghanaian writer and engineer, Nana Awere Damoah. The fifth book released by the writer in eight years, Sebitically Speaking is a collection of Sebiticals, no-holds-back articles infused equally with humour and satire, a commentary on socio-political happenings in Ghana and Africa. “Inspired by Damoah’s late uncle, nicknamed Wofa Kapokyikyi, who was known for speaking his mind like nobody’s business, Sebitically Speaking is set around responsible citizenship and nation building. The 26-chapter read, which focuses mainly on Ghana with references to neighbouring Nigeria and Africa as a whole, exposes the country’s vulnerabilities and highlights her prospects. With the economy, energy, health care, education, political process; even family, faith and morals forming the bulk of the contents, the subjects in this book aren’t what strike you as unique. It is how Damoah drums them home in a manner that transcends mere commentary to provoke action,” writes Antoinette Herrmann-Condobrey, a freelance journalist based in New Jersey, USA and a columnist for The Africa report. Sebitically Speaking is available for purchase on Amazon sites globally and in outlets in Ghana from September 2015. It is also offered as eBook on Kindle, iTunes/iBooks, Azaliabooks (in Ghana, where payment can be done with mobile money) and other eBook platforms. About Nana Awere Damoah: Nana Awere Damoah is the author of three non-fiction books: I Speak of Ghana (2013), Through the Gates of Thought (2010) and Excursions in my Mind (2008) and one fiction book (a collection of short stories), Tales from Different Tails (2011). He has also contributed to two anthologies. He keeps a personal blog at and is a columnist on, writing under the column Sebitically Speaking, where the Sebiticals in this book were first published.

Portia Dery’s Funky Read-Write Clinic

Portia Dery is a young writer making waves in Ghana. She won the Golden Baobab Award for Children’s Literature and she is the main brain behind this writing clinic which will start on Saturday, 20th June 2015 from 9am to 10:30am at the Children’s Library, Tamale.



11206048_833838730025948_6296996902104631613_n 11251001_833838813359273_8519750537731161681_n


The funky ReadWrite clinic is an intensive incubator grooming clinic that lures children to read and write through play activities/games, AYWO’s curriculum and technology.  The aim of this clinic is to groom children to pick up pleasure reading and creative writing as quality leisure activities hence in the long run making them avid readers and prolific writers.

The Funky ReadWrite Clinic has two key distinctive features;

  • A funky reading clinic where children are exposed to a wide variety of books. Children are taken through an exciting journey of reading via play activities/games and technology.
  • A mentoring creative writing clinic which systematically stimulate the imagination of children. Here, creative writing is used as a therapeutic tool to help children open up, be confident and become more vocal about their emotions. Children are taken through intensive writing courses and also mentored by top African writers around the world via online programs.


11337081_833838496692638_2046812282088840554_o 11407105_833838610025960_3464681463194307318_n

Why the need for this?

Ghana’s educational system has undervalued the importance of pleasure reading and creative writing for children in schools. Over the years emphasis has been on ‘text book’ education and story books have been subtly pushed to the back.

 Children are constantly reminded, “you must read to pass your exams!” as a stern warning making most children view reading and writing as ‘ a dreaded monster.’ Thus, reading and writing is often promoted as a means to an end, which is for exams only. Hence children miss the opportunity to explore and stimulate their creative minds.

The above worsens the already high illiteracy among children. UNESCO clearly says that more children are illiterate in world’s poorest countries than believed.

Although a national problem in Ghana the situation is worse in the northern region of Ghana. For instance, whiles the rate of illiteracy in the Greater Accra Region  is 21% Ashanti  40%, 54% in the Brong Ahafo Region, it rises to an alarming  76% in the three Northern regions(  




11407190_833835066692981_8264613423977045679_n 11427197_833838583359296_8969405636964692302_n


Why are beneficiaries  children from deprived communities?
   Children in deprived communities have no access to good schools with good educational facilities. These children are usually very timid, less vocal, their reading and writing abilities are low and therefore find it extremely difficult to understand their lessons in the classroom.

 Their parents earn below the minimum wage hence would never be able to afford extra reading & writing lessons or buy enhanced reading materials.



 17 school children are selected from 4 schools within 4 deprived communities; they would be groomed in this intensive clinic for 4-5months.   After which the second batch will be enrolled.

These children would become reading ambassadors and change agents for their schools and communities

 There is a local proverb which is best transliterated “he who climbs a good tree deserves to be pushed”. Let’s show our support in sponsorships and show up in our numbers to help train some children to love reading so as to impact positively their peers.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Yesterday, a very good friend of mine; Sylvanus Bedzrah, nominated me to tell the world what makes me a Ghanaian. Well, I’ve thought it through and these are the things.
1. My name is Abena Amoafowaa Tawia Mansah Sefa Cecilia; Abena, a name I gained after touching the Ghanaian ground on a day ordained by God in birth. Amoafowaa, my box cum part of my surname, a name my late grandmother used to stand on three legs to mention with its appellations: Nana Amoafowaa Jemremedua! Princess of Nana Yaw Adjare of Ekona Clan. No knife must touch you lest it breaks bones of the holder, no harm must come to you, lest the harmer risk his or her family’s extinction. You are the old wise one reincarnated! You will live long!!! (Smiling at this point). Tawia, a name I earned by the sole reason that I was born after twins, Sefa; the other part of my surname. Mansah, another name earned because I am the third of females born continuously without a male. I make the “Cecilia” my last name because it was borrowed. I could legally remove it but I loved and still love the one who added that name to my list of names, plus, she is late so it is more like a deed of hers I want to live with. Legally, I am known as Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia. This is one thing that makes me a Ghanaian.

2. My palate knows grasses and weeds and alien vegetables and also knows indigenous foods like tuo zaafi, banku and okro, ampesi and “potogum hwei gum” but to mention a few. The lands produce good food and I love eating them in style, it is easy to find others calling me names like “a villager” and the rest, what sort of tag is that? Every body comes from a village, please the good food and demonstration of me eating it always, makes me a Ghanaian.

3. We can bicker like old maids, insult politicians who are accomplished as though they are slaves, hail stars and bring them down (not proud of), but many extend their hands when someone is genuinely in need. Family are sacred entities. By the end of the month, money attracts dead relatives who spring up from nowhere, but when help is needed, all hands (sometimes a few anomalies) are on deck, they are always there to show their support and love. Me giving most and receiving no cash but much love; pure or otherwise, makes me a true Ghanaian.

4. I can watch a local parody of Lil Wayne on Ghanaian screens and laugh at the laughing stock that is associated with the original. No tattoos on this one but the face, mannerisms and gestures tell tales of freedom and humour which gladdens my world. The laughter of life which echoes from me and can travel to others in an infectious manner, makes me a Ghanaian. The elephants can battle the umbrellas on the field of politics all they want, but never see the shoes of wars. Even comedians are among political aspirants allowing electorates some comic relief, my pride in most things we do making life interesting makes me a Ghanaian.

5. Whatever you teach me, I can do it to an extreme (on the good side though). So teach me to fly with wings of a hen and I will make sure I get that of an eagle. Hard work earns me the name “witch”, typical Ghanaian show of successful African women.
Kwaku Atta can date 6 women together, he can only be called Kwaku Attah the he-goat. Let me defend one of his women who has two men, and I get to be called defender of prostitutes; melody to my ears. A woman from another planet may choose to go to court for this, as for me, I know this makes me me and shows I am doing well because I am a typical Ghanaian.

6. I know no snow because the sun mostly dances in my Ghanaian sky, sometimes goes overboard, but what do I care? I get to live, feeling its massages on light clothes. I don’t need to live in hundred clothes a day. Snow can never restrict my movement. Just sponsor a trip with me inclusive abroad and you will know by my shrivelled cries that I am a true Ghanaian.

7. Celebration of excellence is the Ghanaian way. Fail and no one knows you. Be around me where writing is concerned and you will hear, “oh her? I know that girl, she is a very close friend of mine”, go abroad and let someone mention my name and you will hear one who has never seen me say; “Oh! That is my sister” That is just by the way. Everyone we respect and love has a “brother” or “sister” attached to his or her name.  Yes, sisterhood and brotherhood, that makes me a Ghanaian, so if I call you Sister Sylvia or Brother Maxwell, know it is a Ghanaian thing of love and respect..

8. So I love taking “trotro” because talking about love, life, politics makes life worthy of living. It is easier to get the biography of an unknown person or know all about the antagonist of another’s life without asking questions. People talk to people freely, known and unknown. So see me talking to someone I just met on “trotro” or in a taxi and laughing my heart out, there is no doubt that I am a Ghanaian.

9. I am a manager by default. The cost of my food alone can be 1000 cedis, school fees, hospital bills, transport cost etc not inclusive while my take home is less than 1000 cedis. Trust me, I can live through the month in perfect stride, don’t mind my “sign dan ho”, my managerial skills makes me a true Ghanaian.

10. I love the natural sights of the Kwahu Mountain, the beautiful Damongo Game Reserves, the intriguing Monkey Sanctuary, the many beautiful waterfalls, the legendary temples but to mention a few. The beauty of nature in Ghana reflects my being, ask me about the realisation of most of these serene places and I will tell you about the many hunters or farmers who chanced upon them. Trust me, that makes me a true Ghanaian.

There are many more I may share in future life if God permits. For now, I choose Nana Awere Damoah and Namerl Tagoe to tell the world ten things which make them Ghanaians.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Beautiful, Intelligent and Creative; Meet Awura Abena Agyeman of Wear Ghana

  • Our guest post is a beautiful, very beautiful (no exaggeration) lady inside out. She is a fashion designer, a motivator, an inspiration, a Ghanaian patriot with a golden intelligent head on her head. She is one of the stars of Africa where innovation in creativity is concerned. She is none other than Awura Abena Agyeman.

    Awuraa Abena Agyeman on
    Awuraa Abena Agyeman on

    AMOAFOWAA: You’re welcome to

    AWURA: Thank you

    AMOAFOWAA: Please tell us about your family and growing up

    AWURA: I come from a large family filled with lots of love and support. I’ve got 8 siblings and a fantastic mum. If I had to choose the single most valuable asset I have aside God, it would be my family. They’re my anchor. I grew up as a silly chubby girl who could talk from here till forever and yet I managed to convince my teachers that I was the quietest person in each class I got to.

    AMOAFOWAA: Lol. So Wear Ghana. How did it come to be?

    Awuraa Abena Agyeman on
    Awuraa Abena Agyeman on

    AWURA: Well it started in so many little parts.. A promise to a friend to make him a shirt after he had ordered me some sewing books… a project with my brother to find a way to revive the clothing and textiles industry … a conversation with two of my brothers with one of them suggesting the name WEAR Ghana for an event … my sister going out to tell a neighbour I was a fashion designer after the neighbour had shown interest in an outfit I had designed for her (my sister)… to having my best friend of so many years, Angorkor Nai-Kwade partner me. Looking back I realise these were just sign posts leading me to my calling. But all in all it really happened when I realised I had landed a promotion at work and had been offered a nice position in another bank and was still feeling empty. It was then that I realised WEAR Ghana was my only way to achieve true happiness in my work life.

    Angorkor Nai-Kwade, partner of Awuraa Abena Agyeman on
    Angorkor Nai-Kwade, partner of Awuraa Abena Agyeman on

    AMOAFOWAA: Who is/are your role model(s)?

    AWURA: I’ve got many. At various points in my life I’ve found myself learning from many different people… A fantastic boss, my siblings, even a character in a book or movie. My role model is anyone who has a trait I find admirable.  

    AMOAFOWAA: Who do you dream to dress in the whole world?

    AWURA: Oprah. All the African presidents, Chimamanda, Will Smith, all Ghanaian presidents, Obama, Patrick Awuah, Mensah Otabil to mention but a few.

    AMOAFOWAA: What inspires your designs?

    AWURA: We draw inspiration from so many random things.  Trees, light… I find that I’m most creative in a moving vehicle. Perhaps it’s because those are the few times I’m truly sitting still. I should be still more times.  I’ve decided I’ll learn how to meditate but it takes a lot of practice to master.

    Works of Wear Ghana on
    A design of Wear Ghana on

    AMOAFOWAA:  Can clothes speak on beings?

    AWURA: Hopefully I understand your question.  Clothes do a lot of talking.  There are people who you have probably never spoken to who assume they know you because of your appearance. And clothes take up a huge chunk of one’s appearance.  Sometimes without even getting close you can imagine how a person’s breath will smell, just because of how they’re dressed. Kojo Yankson of the Joy Super Morning show demonstrated this perfectly in one of his ‘messages from the morning man’ in which he speaks of a robbery where thieves get easy access into a building because they dress up as firemen.  

    Designs by Wear Ghana on
    Designs by Wear Ghana on

    AMOAFOWAA: Yes, you understood perfectly. Any hobbies?

    AWURA: I love dancing and chatting with people whose minds I find beautiful.  Reading too.

    AMOAFOWAA: Can fashion contribute to national development?

    AWURA: Not only can it, it absolutely should. The global fashion industry is a multi billion enterprise.   If we think of fashion as a wealth creating force, we’ll approach it in a more business minded way. That’s what’s often missing in the local industry. There’s a disconnect between the art and the business of fashion.  

    AMOAFOWAA: What is your take on gender equality in Africa in recent times?

    AWURA: I honestly don’t see people in terms of male and female.  I see them as intelligent people or hard working people or kind people.  But that’s not to say there’s no gender imbalance. There are struggles women go through that men would never fully appreciate. Like having a pervert grab my ass while I was shopping in a market. And the painful part when these things happen is that most of the people around including women think it’s funny. “It’s just a man being a man. Oh come on, don’t make a fuss” But on the other hand I know there are battles men have to fight on a daily basis that I may never fully appreciate.  At the end of the day, I think we should all just learn to treat each other with integrity and respect.  Male or female.  Period.

    A design of Wear Ghana on
    A design of Wear Ghana on

    AMOAFOWAA: Politics, does it affect the fashion industry?

    AWURA: It affects every industry and the clothing and textiles industry is no exception. The fact that at the end of the day it is politicians who run the economy and that the economy has such a direct bearing on how the business climate works, shows clearly that politics affects us all.

    AMOAFOWAA: Has formal education inspired you in any way?

    AWURA: I believe it has. If for nothing at all I’m able to browse the internet to learn ways of building empires and see how other clothing lines are being efficient.  I am however of the opinion that our method of education is seriously porous. And I doff my hat to people like Patrick Awuah who are redefining Ghanaian education.


    AMOAFOWAA: Sexual harassment as barrier of the realization of the hard work of women, do you think the world can break off this completely?

    AWURA: I certainly hope it does.  it can be such a distraction.  It’s negative and evil and I hope the men of this world grow up. Grow up! Period!  Learn how to shut up when your lust surfaces.  And I’ve come to realise it’s a power thing. Many harassers use harassment as a tool to show who is boss. That’s not to say women are not guilty too. So let’s all grow up, people.

    AMOAFOWAA: Awuraa, you are beautiful, tall, fashionable and hot with long dreadlocks. Considering the opinion of many Africans of people who wear locks, may I please ask what inspired your locks?

    AWURA: Eish eish! Please print your description for me so that I hang it on my wall those times when I’m feeling downright ugly. I was tired of perming my hair. I hate hair driers. I wanted to be free from them. And I love the natural look.

    AMOAFOWAA: If you are given a chance to go back in time to erase some parts of your life, which parts will you erase and why?

    AWURA: None. Each minute of my life has formed me. That’s not to say I’m proud of everything I’ve ever done. But it’s all been a learning curve.

    A designer of Wear Ghana at work
    Designers of Wear Ghana at work


    AMOAFOWAA: Single, attached or married?

    AWURA: Single

    AMOAFOWAA: Who fits your description of a perfect man?

    AWURA: Hmm. An intelligent man who is true to himself and has loads of integrity and character.  If he’s good looking and tall and dark too I no bore kraa smile emoticon

    AMOFOWAA: (Laughing out loud) Who can gain your respect?

    AWURA: Anyone who’s trying to make the world a better place in any sphere of life, in any discipline.

    AMOAFOWAA: You have made Ghana proud  and is still on course, are there some challenges?

    AWURA: Oh thank you, that’s very kind of you. There are. Our very brand name bears our identity as Ghanaians. And every time something goes amiss in the country and the way it’s run, we cringe. From dumsor to senseless flooding right down to the fact that there seems to be absolutely no national agenda. It affects businesses. It affects families.  

    AMOAFOWAA: Who will you describe as a perfect man of God?

    AWURA: One who is true to himself. Who admits his flaws and works towards becoming the best version of himself. Who appreciates the fact that God is wise and calls on us to be wise as well.

    AMOAFOWAA: Politicians, Priests and Imams/Mallams, Traditionalists, Public and Civil Servants, The Whole Nation, who do you think is the major contributor of the nation’s stagnancy in progress?

    AWURA: All of us. We are all responsible for where we are. Whenever I see people jumping queues I wonder how we even feel like we have a moral right to complain about politicians. It appears there’s something wrong with the way the majority of us think.

    AMOAFOWAA: Indeed. Any interest in sports?

    AWURA: In the past it used to be any football game between Ghana and another country. But I’m losing interest in even that.

    AMOAFOWAA: Lol.  If you have any advice for Ghanaians to use as ticket of progress, what will it be?

    AWURA: Let’s start thinking.  Period.

    AMOAFOWAA: What is your say on racial discrimination?

    AWURA:  It’s wrong. But I think respect is earned. It’s a human thing. When you come from a continent which constantly portrays itself as a laughing stock, you can only understand when others ridicule you. I think that it’s only when the African proves by his actions in his home country that he is a thinking and progressive being that the world will take us seriously. Everything else is begging to be respected because we are humans too and for me that’s not good enough. Even animals have rights. Not very impressive if you ask me.

    AMOAFOWAA: Wow! What is your biggest dream?

    AWURA: To be able to say when I’m old and dying, that I’ve lived as  best I could.  To be able to build WEAR Ghana into an empire that thrives 100 years on.

    Logo of Wear Ghana
    Logo of Wear Ghana


    AMOAFOWAA: It surely will come true with determination like yours. Now if you were to choose between teaching, preaching, news casting and petty selling apart from fashion, which will you choose and why?

    AWURA: Hmm. What makes you ask? Lol. Maybe teaching. Maybe.

    AMOAFOWAA: How do you choose fabrics for individuals where Wear Ghana is concerned?

    AWURA: Personality, design, occasion, amongst other factors.

    AMOAFOWAA: You are an achiever; there are many wanting to step into your shoes, what is your advice to those people?

    AWURA: You think? Well I guess it would be this:  constantly strive to achieve your highest potential.

    AMOAFOWAA: Now please give your general advice to followers of

    AWURA: Keep following This lady rocks. And let’s all support her autism project.

    AMOAFOWAA: Wow! Thank you very much and thank you for your time on

    AWURA: Thanks, Darling.

     Her inspiration came in this form:
    Pretty flowers are known to have vicious thorns
    But I know a pretty flower whose thorns, if there ever are, never show
    And her smile brightens the skies


Pretty flowers are conceited

Deriving payments from their view

I know a pretty flower who works harder than normal flowers


Pretty flowers care not about their heads

All they need is a bright light to show themselves

I know a pretty flower who is her own light and values a good head


Yes, I know a pretty flower called Awuraa Abena Agyeman

You have seen no flower if you haven’t seen this flower

Long legged

Natural in shine and beauty

Creative in decorum

Like an earth of forever sunshine,

None can blame those who wish for only flowers of Awuraa’s kind

In a world so blessed but cursed with many flowers of thorns in sluggishness

Love her or hate her

If there are stars of Africa,

Her motivation and strides makes her the moon worth following

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Make Time for Serwah Attafuah’s Exhibition: 3rd to 10th June, 2015


Serwah Attafuah’s exhibition starts from Wednesday, 3rd June (the opening night from 7pm until 9pm) to 10th of June 2015 in Sydney, Australia. The gallery will open from the 3rd until the 10th of June 2015 for viewing.

There will be free drinks and great works by Frey Abraha and Khadijah Ali. Please be there to support this budding artist.

The venue is Alpha House, 226 Union Street, Erskinvile, Sydney-Australia. Please be there to support and be inspired.

Meet the Budding Artist; Miss Serwah Attafuah and some of her works.

Our guest post today is a young woman I refer to as “a beautiful bag of talent”. From a talented family, she paints to perfection. Although she is still a student, she is working soo hard to make stamp her in the world. Our inspirer for today is Miss Serwah Attafuah.

Serwah Attafuah on
Serwah Attafuah on

AMOAFOWAA: You are welcome to

SERWAH: Thank you for having me!

AMOAFOWAA: Please tell us about you and growing up, schooling etc.

SERWAH: I grew up around a lot of creative people. Both my parents are artists and performers and encouraged me to pursue any talents I liked. I spent most of my childhood dancing and singing, but lost interest once I started high school. I had a lot of difficulties in high school because I didn’t fit in and the work didn’t stimulate me. In class and my spare time, I would draw in my textbooks. I left high school one year ago to study at design school.

AMOAFOWAA: Which religion do you belong to?

SERWAH: I dont belong to any religion anymore. I like to explore all religions and spiritual teachings as I believe that you can find knowledge in each one.

AMOAFOWAA: You are a budding artist, is that all you do?

Painting by Serwah Attafuah
Painting by Serwah Attafuah

SERWAH: Right now I am studying a Diploma of Live Production design. Im learning how to build and design sets and props for film and theatre.

AMOAFOWAA: Any hobbies?

SERWAH: I play electric guitar in my spare time. I also play bass in a band called Spiral.

AMOAFOWAA: Wow! Tell us about your passion for art and what sparked that passion.

SERWAH: Ive been involved in art for almost all my life. But only in the last 2 years have I been more serious about it. I think what started it all was that I needed a way to express myself and I found art as a method I liked.

AMOAFOWAA: What inspires you?

SERWAH: Artwork from the impressionist and pop art period inspire me. Video art and photo accidents have also had an influence on my recent art.

AMOAFOWAA: Who is your role model?

SERWAH: One of my role models is Jean Michel Basquiat. He was a young pop artist from New York.

AMOAFOWAA: Who did you grow up reading from?

SERWAH: I was a big reader when I was growing up! I really enjoyed fantasy novels like Harry Potter. My favourite author growing up was Karen Mccombie 

Serwah Attafuah on
Serwah Attafuah on


AMOAFOWAA: Whose songs can inspire you any day?

SERWAH: John Fruciante, who is a solo guitarist. My favourite album of his is Niadre Lades and Usually Just a T-shirt.

AMOAFOWAA: Of all the works you’ve painted, which is your most cherished and why?

SERWAH: Probably the Giesha I painted in 2013. That was probably the first time I did a painting I liked.

AMOAFOWAA: Tell us about being an independent female artist and its challenges

SERWAH: I haven’t had any trouble being a female in the art scene. Sometimes its hard to find money and time to fully realise the paintings I would want to paint.

Painting by Serwah Attafuah
Painting by Serwah Attafuah


AMOAFOWAA: What is your favourite colour?

SERWAH: Probably crimson, I like to use it a lot in my paintings.

AMOAFOWAA: You have had the chance to travel to many countries, which country do you find most beautiful and why?

Serwah Attafuah; right.
Serwah Attafuah; right.

SERWAH:  Canada. Its a lot like Australia but colder and the people are nicer!
AMOAFOWAA: Which country’s culture really appealed to you?

SERWAH: Netherlands; so many kind people and an awesome music and art scene

AMOAFOWAA: Which country’s foods do you find most delicious?

SERWAH: Italy!

AMOAFOWAA: I smell a maiden exhibition. When and where will it take place?

SERWAH: My first exhibition will be at the Alpha House Co-op Gallery in Erskinville from the 3rd of June, until the 10th. The opening night is 3rd of June at 7pm.

Painting by Serwah Attafuah
Painting by Serwah Attafuah

AMOAFOWAA: What should we expect during the exhibition?

SERWAH: I will be exhibiting most of the works I did over the summer and a handful of paintings from late last year. I do a lot of portraits and people

AMOAFOWAA: Can painting be used to give advice or send a message?

SERWAH: Definitely, in many cultures people use paintings to tell stories and send messages.

AMOAFOWAA: Now to what all the male fans out there want to know, are you single?

SERWAH: Yes, but no time for boys. Too much painting to do.

AMOAFOWAA: How do you see yourself in 10 years?

SERWAH: I see myself  in a big warehouse like Andy Warhols silver factory, and driving a black hearse.

AMOAFOWAA: Hehehe. There are many girls with no ambitions, they have been suppressed and made to believe without men, they are nothing. Please, any advice for them?

SERWAH: You need to go within yourself and find out what truly makes you happy.

AMOAFOWAA: Please advise people who have suffered rape and are battling with depression.

SERWAH: If you have been sexually abused, do everything you can to have the abuser put in jail. Reach out to those in your community who can help you, dont go through this alone.

AMOAFOWAA: Now your advice to those who want to be like you.

SERWAH: My advice would be to work hard at what you like to do. I work towards my art every day. I try to live by this quote; plant your seeds today, reap the rewards tomorrow

AMOAFOWAA: If there is a thanksgiving and you are the one hosting, who are the people you will want to feature in your words?

SERWAH:  I would thank my whole family, they are the biggest supporters! The friends who support me. Also friends I make on the street sometimes give me great advice, Thanks uncle Mike!

AMOAFOWAA: Thank you for your time on Amoafowaa.

SERWAH: No worries, thank you for having me Amoafowaa!!!

Her inspiration came in this form


She is a sky

A sky sweet in unpredictability

Serwah Attefuah is a sky

A sky beautiful in many shades

She has eyes so apt

Hands so gifted

Head so perfect

Capturing right; the world

Living large and brightening like the sun

One who knows no gender

One who knows no slacking

Hard work is her fort

Dreams are just her passing thoughts

She is a sky

Swerwah Attefuah is an artist sky

So she will definitely capture the world

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015


Mexico puts on screens

How social stratifications

Are  breeched by love sensations

And many of the lovers are in their teens



Koreans put on their screens

Deeds of kings who lived in days of old

Depicting their cultures in many fold

Breaking clean the outmoded in keens



US puts many stories on screens

Telling tales of love, drugs and toughs

Showing how racism trashes in roughs

Shaming bigs and praising leans



Come to Ghana

And you get cinemas with witchy seats

Come to Ghana

And see their witchy brooms on the silver screens

Come to Ghana

And see how horrifying Satan is made up

You will think God’s word of Satan’s beauty

Is a thing said in lies

Well, there are few work on the classies

But bring your witch broom if you reach Siano

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015




Shegee Styla
Shegee Styla

Good songs beg for listenership and having listened to Shegee Styla’s new album titled “Let’s Go” I am inclined to share it with all you lovely followers of The song is set in the slums of Accra, Ghana, and talks about the fact that people in the slums also have lives and live lives to the fullest.

It tells of their everyday activities, shows those in the slums have hope and are strong in facing life’s hurdles.

Check it out on Youtube if you are a lover of music:

(All for inspiring good talents)

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015