IN HONOUR OF MAJOR MAHAMA

Image result for pictures of major mahama maxwell

We cry your liquidated soul

Which has been forcefully fried

From your solidly mobile form

We hail your gallant nurture

Which prevented your strong nature

To harm a hair of your enemies, oh you with good stature!

We pray for your hovering soul

Which stands on the invisible soles

Of all that you hold dear

We pray for your fruitful walk into eternal rest

Even as your wronged soul

Deserves a fair revenge

The law stands and haunts

The law whips and taunts

The law whose neglect saw to your fall

Calls and stalks to fetch and prosecute culprits

You are a warrior of heroism

Caught in a silly sport of cruel tragedy

Death bemoans your shining presence

Just as your wife feels the absence of your presence

And your children’s growth miss their oblivious presence

We pray for your forgiveness

For cutting a tree which yearned

To stretch in the sky way above the ground

Depriving its roots from its warm and cool shade

Walk like the soldier you are

Model like the gentleman you are

Take strides knowing we have fantasized your future

The future you envisaged

Your Major dreams have been achieved

Major Mahama Due ooo!

Damirifa Due!

Major Mahama! Damirifa Due!

Due Due ne Amanehunu!\

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 9, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

PITY OUR LAND

Image result for images of beautiful ghana

Pity our land

A land arrested and tamed

Into a free wild horse on its very habitat

Sat on and dragged with so many heavy things

Fed crumbs from our own pots

Oh cry! Cry for our land!

II

Pity our land

A land with so much yet thinks so little

And was confined by the mere sight of a gun

A land which fought their greatest enemy’s soldiers

Into a slight wake

A wake that stuck at freedom of body

And not of mind

Oh pity! Slap this land into Wakefulness!

III

Pity our land

Cry for this land of loam

Whose knees love the taste of sea sands

Oh Pity! Pity this land!

A land whose thoughts love to steal from itself

Digging its seeds before they germinate

Soiling its rivers before they join their seas

Oh pity! Pity our land!

IV

Pity our land

Pity our land so full yet so empty

A land so beautiful but stuffed with self-hatred

A land so wealthy with brainwashing of poverty

A land ridden by shadows

Shadows which blend with our darkness

Darkness with no distinction

Oh pity! Pity our land

V

Pity our land

The land which knows no greatness unless its sunset

And knows no morning unless neighboring cock crows are heard

No matter how hard theirs drum in crowing

A land whose day lovers suck its blood at night

And pretend to water and till in the day

A land bedeviled by its own thoughts

Haunted by fake nightmares

And flogged by manipulations

Oh pity! Pity my land!

VI

Pity our land

 Pity the land bleaching away its melanin

In hopes of seeing protected blood

Thinking vulnerability is ability

When its suns spew wrinkles and wilting

Pity o pity!

The land which lives in begging dreams

Begging which begs for its own destruction!

A land of scribes filled with filth 

Pity! Oh pity my land!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 7th June 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

IN HIS MAJESTY’S QUARTERS

Image result for pictures of a african king and queens

In His Majesty’s quarters

Women are flowers to be gathered

Into an unharmonious bouquet

From colours black to white

II

In His Majesty’s quarters

A step calls for stooges in circled clichés

Ones who see God when his shadow

Draws in closer drawings

III

In His Majesty’s quarters

The devil’s shed stands for evil check

Spraying calamity in hunger

Trapping murder in anger

IV

In His Majesty’s quarters

A rude act calls for nakedness

He who loves his head

Checks his weirds in His Majesty’s quarters

V

Bring hunger for murder

Bring problems for slaughter

Work like a great servant for titles

Gift in gratefulness for mentions

In His Majesty’s quarters

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 18th April 18, 2017 (After visiting the Aseyin of Iseyin

PHOTO CREDIT: GOOGLE PICS

A FLYING BIRD

 

A flying bird in troubled nest

Can never have a needed rest

A flying bird in a troubled nest

Clearly may have no request

 

II

I flew from heaven to here

Thinking I could find beauty in the road to steer

But found a rope around my leg as the ground did cheer

Poor me and a pain so dear!

 

III

Thinking me tied

A fly I tried

But my wings’ strength were immediately dried

By stones a mischief did so fried

 

IV

Now my love for nature has turned to pain

Although an angel did all insane

To have me freed from my ropy chain

And nursed my wings to its strength gain

 

 

V

Exploration turned exhaustion

Reverence in clear abortion

Now I do have an apt notion

After drinking from the experience potion

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (April 2017)

 

MY MAMA MY LOVE

Mfoni mbuayɛ ɛma PAINTINGS OF MOTHERS AND THEIR CHILDREN

Maame

Mama

Maa

Ima

The first pillar of contact

The first room with the warmest of bedding

The first breath shared like a sweet meal

The first wall in a kick

Maame

Mama

Maa

Ima

One who accepts madness for what she terms the blessing of motherhood

And feels the pangs of her child’s suffering

Like a super bluetooth which gets signals

Whenever, wherever

The one who sang the best lullabies

No matter how difficult

To chant out sleep to soothe her young

“Oba yi

Hen aba ni

Maame Yaa ban i

Wonfa no nkoshe abe ase

Abe ase wo nsoyensoy

Wonfa no nko si onyina ase

Onyina bebu abo me ba

Abo me ba

Abo me ba ei ei!”

Oh all the playful songs of assurance

Of trust

Of love

Of fun!

Maame

Mama

Maa

Oma

Your palm hits are like massages of comfort

One who chastises to pamper

Beings who develop wings like angels

In protection of their kind

He who sang this song did sing from truth

“Sweet mother

I no go forget o

For this suffer wey you suffer for me ei

Sweet mother

I no go forget oh

For this suffer wey you suffer for me ei

When I no chop

My mother no go chop

When I no sleep

My mother no go sleep

She no de tire aa

Sweet mother

I no go forget this suffer wey you suffer for me ei ei

Stop stop

Stop stop

Stop stop make you no suffer again o”

Yes he did sing it right

But his last point was like a rubber bullet on a thick metal

The beak of a hen knows no fears

When its chicks are in danger

And no matter the warning crows from cocks

The safety of her wards reigns supreme

Mother

Mama

Ima

Slender like a doll

Strong like an eagle

Where in your bodies lie your strength bank?

You are fierce like lionesses when woes chase your young

Mama

Mother

Maa

Ima

Just as dawn paves way for the morning

You are our dawn

A dawn that is never curtained by daylight

A dawn that battles furious suns and storms to bring warmth to her offspring

A dawn that shadows to love wholeheartedly

And will willingly submit to the fingers of death

If that will bring safety to her young

Mother

Mama

Ima

It is sad to know you are our mistake punch bags

It is sad to know your knees are never shy to kneel when our flaws stand out like Afadzato

Why do you accept our blames when you are in no wrong?

What kind of love flows like the rarest of spring water

Even in drought?

All the pinches of our hearts

Are calmed with just your touch

All the clashing sounds in our heads

Harmonize at the sound of your voice

Mama

You deserve this song of praise

“For my Mama an honour

For my Mama this praise

For my mama all thanks

Oh mama my love

You deserve it all

The showering of love

You deserve it all

The attention in all

You deserve it all

Our pampering

You deserve it all

Our faith

You deserve it all

The celebrations

You deserve it all

Our all

Flowers and buildings and money can’t show

Hurdles and mountains and shame oh can’t blow

Mama o mama my love

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

THE FOURTH ARM

 

It is amazing how the fourth arm

Works with its arms

From acting like robbers with arms

To being eyes without qualms

II

These are the times

Growth with accountability rhymes

These are the times corruption bells must chime

To wake sleepers who throw in their dimes

To get fingers acting in mime to get to all needed dimes

III

So if whipping pens

Turn their powerful dens

Into coop where they turn hens

Then there is no lens

For our motherland and fake men

Will turn power upside down

IV

Those climbing the truth tree

Which is being shaken to free

If you fear your downfall and go on a running spree

Then truth  losses to its opponent

In your hands as your land weeps

V

It is the time for shoot

That time to praise

Shoot for the wrong

Praise for the right

You are the power hands

The right arm for the right path

So power up to lead the change

 

MY FAVOURITE COLOUR

Artistic, Bright, Color, Colored, Colorful, Colors

Some questions echo and bounce

Pinch and scratch

Confuse and drain all morsels of words

In the earthenware of my mouth

One such is what is your favourite colour?

II

Red is the colour of my blood

And is like the bridge from chaos to my peace

It is the symbol of life’s fluid

A hidden river which defines humanity

The color of fire which drives cold

The colour of courage and visibility

Its connotation of danger and mourning

Does nothing to take away from its beauty

And reminder of its continuity through life’s baton

III

White is the colour of victory

Of perfection

Of innocence and purity

The colour of clarity

The colour of truth

No stain can hide in any part of its world

White is the colour which defines cleanliness

Even sacred beings are seen in white by all minds’ eyes

What is there not to like about it?

IV

Black is the colour of power and of sympathy

Like the safest room in a chaotic house

It shields the weary

Comforting for tears to flow until eyes dry out

It is the cocoon every eyelid needs for rest

A colour of elegance and formality

It has its flaw of aiding and abetting creepers of criminalities

And has its portion of grief

But life without black is life impossible

V

Green is the colour of fertility

The colour of growth

The colour of vegetation

Without the colour green many plants will lose themselves

Green wakes for famine to flee

The colour with much healing prowess

Oh colour of wealth!

Even its lack of experience association

Cannot dim its enduring trait

Every heart that loves not green

Backstabs itself when it feeds to live

Oh colour of hope for the future!

What is there not to love about green?

VI

Grey is the colour of wisdom

Black turns grey on every head land

To tell of days bodies have travelled through time

The colour of maturity!

The colour which is the bridge between youth and elderly

A phase normalcy grants all lucky in living

Is it not a colour of blessing?

VII

Gold is the colour of refinement

A colour with the best advice through its processes

Going from earth to dug

Dug to fires

Fires to moulding

Moulding to refinement

It shines to reflect in stardom

After its beautiful end

Ordinary in nature

Star through fires

A colour everyone loves to own in something!

What is there not to like about gold?

VIII

Blue is the colour of strength

The colour of the best part of the sky

The colour of independence

Of intelligence

Of trust

Of tranquility

Of sincerity

The masculine colour of stability

The colour which serves the best seas to eyes

What is there not to like?

IX

Pink is the feminine colour

A colour which flutters hearts of teens

And glitters hearts of females

The colour of romance

The colour of love

The colour of friendship

A colour which gives possibilities of daydreaming

A colour which makes femininity a beautiful possibility

What is there not to like about pink?

X

Yellow is the colour of the sun

The colour of sunrise and sunset

Of ins and outs

An associate professorial colour to pink in feminism

The colour of beginnings and serene endings

Beautiful and cool

XI

Brown is the colour of satisfaction

The colour which reminds all of the goodbyes of love

Such sadness and melancholy

With obvious message of living to the end

Brown is the colour of the earth

The mother of all living

The colour which makes the tree of life sane

Springing into elimination

Brown is that colour not many bodies get the chance to be

Let alone to willingly fall

Still, it is a colour to die for

XII

From purple to indigo

Violet to wine

No colour lives without a charm

So why should I choose one?

Why would I choose just one among the lot?

 

 

Photo credit: Google pics

FLY

Try not to cry but fly

You broken bird on a land so dry

Try not to cry but fly

The only right thing to get you by

II

Try not to cry but fly

Manna falls not at the sound of a sigh

Try not to cry but fly

Like antelopes knowing danger is nigh

III

Try not to cry but fly

Pain, when worked right, takes you high

Try not to cry but fly

Instead of only asking why

IV

Try not to cry but fly

It is in what you vie

And what you try that kisses your fails goodbye

Try not to cry just fly, fly, fly until you reach your high

TELL ME ODIKRO

With the arms of the mountains in protection

Tell me the brooms that sweep nightmares into heads

Show me the airs that aid their heads into homes

Is it the calls of horny beads of widows for what fate has snatched from their sides?

Or the rumbling stomachs of widowers for their gone lovers?

Tell me Odikro, protector of peace

II

There should be many things that little head heard

To drive it into flights of fright

When darkness yoked the earth

And day strolled outside earth

Tell me Odikro, all seeing

What you saw from her inverted pupils in sleep

III

Could it be because the ancestors

Have been replaced by prophets and saints?

Could it be because the gods have been booted from heaven doors

That we shout in vain to reach the heavens?

Could it because seers have been mistaken for devils

With plucked eyes and defeated souls?

Tell me Odikro, this itchy ears need it

IV

If the shrines call for fowls in tones undecipherable

And the trees feel the disturbances in sways unreadable

Write us a letter in our sleep

Not nightmares which stretches goose bumps of fear to our skin

We are your children after all

No matter our colours, no matter our greed

We are the results of your lovemaking with thoughts

 

WEARY FEET

Image result for pictures of new year
It sheds its skin of years
 When time travels from J to D
 Like the proverbial snake who sheds, marks
 And never looks back
 Each spot remains on the shed
 As the new skin makes its history into shedding
 I am like the year which acts like the snake

II
 He who builds mud on destroyed skin
 Has lost a wiring in the upper house
 He who peels the skin
 With no thought to pain,  further invites famished flies
 Who eat into scarring
 Like the year, I wait for nature's shedding
 And a crown of faith
 Knowing a fall is nothing permanent

III
 Old leaves fall for new leaves to rise
 Trees lose no hope when their leaves and fruits
 Are shed through wind's cruelty
 Life pinches to soothe
 So I live like the year which lives like the snake
 Shedding pain

Shedding troubles

Shedding squabbles

Shedding old victories

Into the arms of history, for new
 Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 1, 2017
Photo Credit: Google pics

​Sebiticals Chapter 31: The Biegyanisation of Sikaman — Nana A Damoah

In the fourth year after the old Odekuro Asomdwehene Obenefo Yohani Atta Nikanika died, there arose three men from the land of Montie who came shouting in the wilderness: “Make way for the Son of Drahama, Odekuro Okasafo Yohani Mahani Nikaboka, he who has been anointed to rule in the affairs of the land with […]

via Sebiticals Chapter 31: The Biegyanisation of Sikaman — Nana A Damoah

WHITE HANDKERCHIEFS REJOICE

(This post is to wish all Christian followers of amoafowaa.com a very Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year. You have been there always, reading, following, encouraging, correcting, liking, commenting and sharing. May God continue to bless us all. Enjoy…)

There are infant tears

Which like handkerchiefs, will wipe our fears

A holy mother, a higher angel bears

Praise to Jehovah, hope, above sinful uglies, its head rears

II

There are shepherds who heard

Because the father really cared

And there is a king who heard

Because the father really dared

III

Oh darkness always gets swallowed by light

God is in this state of warrior flight

Knowing beings can’t face the fight

Of pursuers, in whose race evils delight

IV

So raise your handkerchiefs all in white

God has brought us all to his site

Hoping only for hallelujahs  to praise and bite

The kings of demons whose craze are tight

V

Take your handkerchiefs and sing:

Behold the heaven bells ring

Good tidings the son of God brings

No matter the mud Satan slings

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 25, 2016

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Comments Policy

Says it straight and makes no bends!

Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit

This is a direct response to a nasty comment made on one of my previous posts. I am not a nice person when somebody says or writes the wrong things so things are about to get ugly. Real Ugly!!  You May STOP Reading Now.

As Creator and Moderator of this blog I reserve the right to call out any stupid, racist, sexist, dumb ass or ageist comments.  I recently ReBlogged a post about an All Black Cowgirls Team. Anyone who has an ounce of good sense and a knowledge of racist American History should know why Black people in this country need and must have All Black Teams, Events, Organizations, Groups etc….. There has rarely been and given the upcoming administration will be any societies, organizations, groups, etc… where Blacks are or will be seen as equals. We’ve been having this battle for 400 years and even through the eight…

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DUST IN OUR EYES

We are our illnesses
We, golden children
Conceived painfully and graciously
By Asaase Yaa, the goddess of nature
How can we heal?

II
Our legs flirt with fine dust of deceit
Enthroning it to build mansions
In our priced noses
Distributing coughs of fear
Digging pain of panic
Blinding us and
Developing weaknesses which deepen our sores
Helping flies to travel to feast fat
On our blessed bodies
Who is our saviour
If we are our own devils?

III
Yesi yesi
Has a palace with shrines
Worshipped by many
Including skilled minds
Anything dished on plates of our minds
Are consumed gratefully
Without a thought to its ingredients
What kind of minds eat
But do not weed let alone grow to process?

IV
Vanishing genitals
Human hunters
Defaming saints
Promoting angels of Satan
Which action fiction scripts can’t we write
With our mouths and thoughts?

V
Gift of discernment
Heaps of choices
Apt analysis
N ever ending options
Appropriate conclusions
Can we not be refined through this order?
Rhetorics are best left hanging
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 2, October, 2016

Ghanaian Pilgrims to Mecca; Idol Transitionists or Holy Worshippers?

Image result for images for hajj

Hajj is one dream all Muslims have in common; at least,  so Ghanaians have been made believe. A person who goes to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for hajj, washes away all sins and if that person dies thereafter, after notable rituals (worship), he or she is said to go straight to heaven.

The puzzle of this journey,  for me, lies in the ritual of titles, the fact that Ghanaian Hajj returnees, especially in northern Ghana stay in their various houses like gods and goddesses receiving greetings from loved ones and friends, some for a month and over!

When quizzed about this, a Muslim friend, Abdul Zaapayim Doo said it is believed that those returnees are now holy and exude holiness so all who have not been able to travel for hajj and even those who have travelled but could not go in a particular year seek to tap from their holy spirit.
The returnees must also cook for visitors to enjoy,  some asking for gifts.
To my understanding,  one must sweat to gain finances in order to go to hajj. It’s a pillar of Islam that can be optional because you would need enough resources for your household, your air ticket to and fro and for your upkeep there! Well, so I thought. With many rumoured to be sponsored especially by politicians and people of high standing, I sought the counsel of Sheik Alhaji Illiasu of Sagnerigu, Tamale.
In an interview with Sheik Alhaji Illiasu Imoro of Tamale, he explained that, people can be sponsored according to the holy Quaran to go to Mecca. He also educated that Mecca is a religious requirement in Islam. As to why people from Mecca stay indoors to receive greetings like gods and goddesses in worship, Sheikh Alhaji Imoro said it is not necessary. He further went on to explain that those who stay indoors do so so they can bless their neighbours who couldn’t go. He said the holy Quaran teaches that those who go to Hajj are cleansed from all their sins. So at most,  one week of rest to bless is essential but the women exaggerate and stay at home for sometimes as long as 40 days, cheered on by their friends.

I guess there are extremists in every religion. Hajj will continuously breed self satisfied and feeling-all-important idols. So be on the look out for the next Hajia or Alhaji ( I hear it is a title which means stranger), For who knows, a strange might show you an idol style or might just bless you in holiness.

(Photo Credit: Google pics)

TONGUE

Tongue
When you taste the sweet
Savour the taste
And dance to its beat
Like a queen who has conquered in war

II
Tongue
When you taste the sweet
With bitter pinches
Hold your reins
Like a great warrior at war
And follow the trot-rhythms
Of your cherished horse

III
Tongue
When you taste the bitter
With sour swords
Which cut into the roots
Of your teeth’s canal
Like a strong Atongo
On his farming ground
Hold your pride
And send back the tears
With visions of sweetness
In the future of sourness
Even when sores plague your ground
For you are a conqueror
A great great warrior
Who holds her head
Even in defeat

IV
You are just like fresh meat
I know
But have conquered many heat-like foes
Even those who leave scars
Have been battled and battered
Tongue
You are not on an ordinary
But on the great Jemremedua
Hold high your head
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2nd July,  2016

Purchase my New Book “Secondary Rhythms” on Amazon

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My second publication is finally on Amazon. Thanks to all followers and well wishers.

High school is a level by itself. It is the stage where teens grow into adulthood and elites seek to better themselves into tertiary. Secondary Rhythms tells the story of a girl who goes through it all; poverty, bullying, jealousy, challenges to pass through senior high school. Please help share and buy. Remember 30 percent of all purchases go to support the Autism Help Foundation. Help purchase it from here:

https://www.amazon.com/Secondary-Rhythms-Cecilia-Amoafowaa-Sefa/dp/1534805702/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1468934770&sr=8-2&keywords=amoafowaa

OUR PATH

In the beginning of creation
Sicknesses were the greedy hunters of death
They poxed
Boxed
Layed their coughs
They shivered
Angered
Boiled and ached
Then taboos added to the list
Until death added a new recruit
War

II
War was planted from our greed
The land which owned
We sought to own
The will for each
We sought to breech
So war was crowned
Hunter of hunters
For centuries
Until death added another
Luxury

III
Luxury and comfort
Like lost and ambitious gods
Reigned and still reign
Smoking into lungs
Poison and lasers
Hunting and hunting
On the hierarchy at its peak
Roots are always important
So we travel back
And dig our own
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

POETRY

Times have travelled
Travelled far
But what the seers see
In closed eyes
Even the tallest man alive
Will never see with million eyes wide opened
So they speak not in plains

II
Poetry is not naked words
For thoughtless prostitutes
Neither is it naked wires
To shock into reality fools with no eye thoughts
It is words fetched from pots of wisdom
Ones sages seek to open
And open to pick
And pick to unwrap
And unwrap to digest
Tasting every bit of its ingredients
To get all its tastes

III
Conversations desire no riddles
Words flow and walk anyhow without modelling
Poetry is like wines of riddles
Which model on stages of the learned
Their frame so beautiful
Their clothings so dense
Their strikes burdens to thinking heads

IV
If poetry were a sky
It would be a moonless sky
With clouds
Which need time and patience
As minds battle through dawn
To light the sun of understanding
To fetch its clear colours

V
If poetry were water
It would be clouds
It takes so much to get down
To bless the earth
In understanding and fertility

VI
Every hand which learns can write
Every mouth with sound can speak
But true poets, like spiders, weave their words in clothes of wisdom
Hiding intriques
Fun
Morals
In high corners of thoughts’ skies
Begging to be chased
Caught
And used

VII
Poetry is no child’s play
It plys no roads of loose mouths
And thoughtless tongues
It is reserved
Reserved only for the dignified
Branding non-thinkers weak
As they lose their ways to their entrance
Never finding their routes

VIII
Poems are gems
Hidden in cages of words
Legs of veins
Chase through darks
Hands of blood
Tear through webs
Skulls so strong crack to reach
It sure is medicine for elitist minds
Scribes of the future
Paintings of reflections
Which when unravelled
Remedy to bless
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

BARCAMP TAMALE, JULY 30, 2016

image

#Barcamp #Tamale is networking the best of Tamale on #July30.
#Bctamale is a day of learning, sharing, networking and mentoring.

What to expect?
Mentoring by professionals or entrepreneurs.
Networking with likeminded individuals – you could find your business or project partner
Celebrating some of the best of Tamale and beyond
Breakout sessions that you can also lead

Register via https://t.co/7L2Bmmg7PF

Credit: The Barcamp team

BM’s Poet Of the Week – Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

Wow! I just saw this. Thanks very much.

amoa.jpg

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia is a Ghanaian poet, novelist and an occasional dabbler in article writing. Its evident from her blog here that she has been a passionate writer all her life. She is eclectic in her writings – from the beauty of the sun to special tributes to fathers to birthdays; nothing escapes her, only feeling complete when her works evokes the right emotions in people’s hearts like its been doing for sometime now. She has been on the literary scene for a LOOOONG time but is currently an English Teacher at Tamale Secondary High School according to her Twitter bio@Maame_c.

I was always curious when @dancingpalmtree beat me to reading her stuff be it short stories or her poems. But I must confess that her blog is a staple for me (more like a dose of medicine needed to feel alright). Her words reach out into your soul and…

View original post 38 more words

Dates: The thumb-sized powerhouses

Worth reblogging. Cool post.

The Hidden Prestige

Dates

Don’t you love Ramadan?

The month of fasting, prayer, charity, and dates?

Edible ones, of course. 😉

This blessed month, when the small, sweet fruit seems to be everywhere, let’s take a moment to see how something so small can be so beneficial.

Breaking the fast with dates is a well-known Sunnah of the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم  :

عَنْ أَنَسِ بْنِ مَالِكٍ، قَالَ ‏ “‏ كَانَ النَّبِيُّ صلى الله عليه وسلم يُفْطِرُ قَبْلَ أَنْ يُصَلِّيَ عَلَى رُطَبَاتٍ فَإِنْ لَمْ تَكُنْ رُطَبَاتٌ فَتُمَيْرَاتٍ فَإِنْ لَمْ تَكُنْ تُمَيْرَاتٌ حَسَا حَسَوَاتٍ مِنْ مَاءٍ ‏”‏ ‏.

‏Anas bin Malik narrated:

“The Messenger of Allah صلى الله عليه وسلم would break the fast with fresh dates before performing Salat. If there were no fresh dates then (he would break the fast) with dried dates, and if there were no dried dates then he would take a few sips of water.”

(Graded Hasan, Jami`…

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My Vision Duet

From another perspective. Love or life.

Aubrey's Arch

Hypnotic and erotic
Your soul psyche is exotic
Universal dine and goddess
To taste your Magic is my florist
Depth and duty do you flourish
You’re the beauty that I nourish
Unending power that we current
Could your love reveal my soul
Can you make my heart whole
Is this home you must own
Erotic and heroic
Is the Throne

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OCD

Have learnt a thing about OCD today.

William Chasterson

The best way I can describe OCD for someone who doesn’t have it is the following. Imagine your driving to work but instead of going straight to work you inadvertently turn off and park in the library. A similar situation has probably happened to everyone so you laugh it off as nothing and you head to work. The next day it happens again but this time you go inside the library sit down and immerse yourself in books. Remembering you have to go to work you rush out of the library perplexed and head to work but you arrive late. When asked why you are late you feel as if you can’t tell your boss the truth because the truth sounds ridiculous and will most likely require further explanations which you are unable to provide. You lie about why you are late and promise not to let it happen again…

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Acres of Seclusion

Sometimes reminiscing takes us here and there, the centre between happiness and pain. Cool poem.

No Talent For Certainty

The boy and girl who traveled here
Have vanished in the swirl of time;
In acres of seclusion sits
A cabin in a glade

And trav’ling far, I stop my car,
And breathe in autumn’s snowy clime;
Recalling now, in fits and bits
The promises we made

The key still hidden by the door,
I turn the lock and enter in;
The stove, the bed, still side-by-side
Where once we lay, entwined

And then, anew, the scent of you,
The soft feel of your glowing skin,
The many ways of love we tried
Come crowding in my mind

The promises we didn’t keep
The hours that we didn’t sleep
The hands that we held thoughtlessly
With love but lightly clad –

The acres of seclusion we
Took with us out into the world;
Two broken people, using up
The one last chance
They had

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Quotations on Courage

Great quotes.

charles french words reading and writing

I have focused on this theme before, but I believe it is always important.

EdmundBurke1771

(https://en.wikipedia.org)

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”    Edmund Burke

While today, we would say people instead of men, the importance of  the message remains. When evil or the potential for it exists, it must be opposed.

albert-einstein-1165151_960_720

(https://pixabay.com)

“The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.”     Albert Einstein

Both men from very different times and different political and social backgrounds give a moral imperative to people to stand up to evil, that it cannot and should not be ignored.

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INTRODUCING GIGI: WEARGHANA’S LATEST MASTERPIECE

Mum C writes

image

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?
Unisex?
Dressshirt?
Genderless?
Androgynous?
How about GIGI?

image

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

image

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…

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AFRICAN UNION

image

From Algeria to Zimbabwe
Only minus Morocco
The strong 54 stand like a team
Combating like dedicated soldiers on the battle front
Cool huh?
Thank you Dr. Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana
For your visions which birthed this union

II
Although little mosquitoes are proving difficult in battle
Undemocratic regimes shielded in greed stand as your opponents
Civil wars hold hands with poverty
Draining the standard of living of you and yours
Famine, desertification,
Lack ecological sustainability
And Western Sahara battles legal issues,
You are doing what Napoleon couldn’t
Taking the walk, though slowly
To the land of union you seek

III
You held Togo’s second Gnassingbe’s neck
With words
And forced him to the election polls
In 2005
Your discipline of Mauritania still stands
Teaching her slowly since 2007 to be sane in democracy
Your helping Mali to find its feet in 2013
Is a feat worth mentioning
You are a great union
AU you are on your feet

IV
Your active participation for peace
Makes you a Moses
Leading us to the land of peace
From crises in Darfur
Through to Somalia
Cote d’Ivoire and more
Are just proves of your dedication

V
We hold hands to pray for your dreams to mature
In 2023
So our free trade area
Customs union
And central bank will walk into active and successful reality
To give us more power over our economy

VI
You keep representing us
Fighting for us like the small David
Some may have no hope in you
But when our problematic Goliaths fall
There will be no division
We will wave our flags in oneness
Knowing no differences
Seeing no varied colours

VII
Thabo Mbeki
Joachim Chissano
Olusegun Obasanjo
Dennis Sassou Nguesso
John Agyekum Kufour
Jakaya Kikwete
Muammar Al Gadafi
Bingu wa Mutharika
Theodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo
Yayi Boni
Hailemariam Desalegn
Mohammed Ould Abdel Aziz
Robert Mugabe
Idriss Deby
All you whose buttocks have tasted the chair
And all those yet to climb for the crown of union
Prayers for you
You are part of our frontliners
You stand for us
We say Ayekoo!
Ayekoo!!
Ayekoo!!!
For the great works you are doing
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016
Photo Credit: Google pics

GRANDMA’S SUGAR OR RIPE FRUIT

Eno Abena ei
I need to tell you something
Something that Awo Pokuah said
That sugar attracts many ants
Ripe fruits attract many birds
But faeces shut eyes
Repels noses
And frowns faces

II
So I should try being sugar
To get many ant companions
And stay sweet on tongues
Or be a ripe fruit
To get many birds to plant well my seeds
Awo said like a climber
Who fears height
I should never look down
As flies are no welcome visitors
Let alone companions

III
Eno Abena
I want to be a fruit
But I lack the needed fertilizer
As a weak plant
Under a huge tree
I hardly see the sun
Feel the rains only at my feet
Only the air helps me stand
Mostly after visiting many

IV
I need not think about being sugar
Who will grant this sugar cane audience?
Who will process me to attract without cost?
In rawness, I attract only thieves and flies
How good is that?

V
Eno Abena
Am I disappointing Awo?
Awo who was my odum
When the storms stormed out
My sky, when I needed rain and sunshine
My fan, when air got scarce
How do I face her in yonder world?

VI
I am fighting
And will continue to fight
If you meet her before I do
Please tell her I am in the battle
Tell her although she gave no formula
I am searching frantically
Like a trained dog
To be sugar
Or a ripe fruit
Just as she asked
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Stretch Goals: Nobody’s Jackknife

Love the comparison. Cool blog too.

Eleventh Stack

Poetry is a lot like yoga: it asks you to stretch out of your comfort zone, and the level of difficulty varies from situation to situation. Nobody’s Jackknife, the first full-length collection from Pittsburgh’s own Ellen McGrath Smith, functions as a master class for advanced readers and a challenge to motivated beginners. Like the best classes, it is by turns gentle and fierce, and by the time you get to the end of it, you should be glowing and panting a little bit; if not, you might be reading it wrong … or, at least, not wholeheartedly.

The yoga metaphor fits because Smith used it first: an entire section of Nobody’s Jacknife is made up of poems that bear the name of specific poses. These pieces explore the nature of the pose and its relationship to the world in which one poses, as explained in “Downward Facing Dog (adho…

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A DAY TO LAUGH IT OUT

It is a game of healing
And gives great feeling
An emptying so fulfilling
Frees strength jailing

II
Knock your mind
To knock your lips
To show your teeth
In a smiling pose
Touch your stomach
And raise a sound
Ha ha ha
Isn’t it a great feeling?

II
Laugh it out
Rain out the pain
Laugh outloud
Smile out the disdain
Lips so curled in pleasant frame
Capture eyes and share some love
So ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
It is a day to laugh it out
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Season’s Romance

Cool.

joyindestructible

A rosy morning sunrise prances…

(In a delicate sunbeam ballet)

Upon snowy February branches…

A frosty-day-sparkle-melt-away!

Spring warmth on winter dances;

Quick encounter a seasonal play!

Yearly rendezvous brief romances…

Warmth of life leads cold astray!

Icy dissolve nurture life’s chances,

Green rises to overthrow all gray!

Glitter-to-glint magnifies enhances,

Hope- for-spring-time-dream-day!

Slow-waltz Winter’s Spring princess…

Youthful rosy blush heats icy-day!

Old man Winter lost! Love entrances…

Summer entices Spring’s love away!

Summer falls to Autumn enchantress!

Bad-boy Winter flirt Autumn is prey…

Scandalous affairs seasonal romances!

Begin every year in a sunlit ice ballet;

Icy rose morning sunlight take chances…

Season’s romance spectacular display!

 

 

 

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Dear Human.

Reblogging Monday. Found this a refreshing read.

For friends without borders

Hi guys,
Zee here, just wanted to share this beautiful piece I came across:

“Dear Human: You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. This is where you came from and where you’ll return. You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty Love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often. You didn’t come here to be perfect, you already are. You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous. And rising again into remembering. But unconditional love? Stop telling that story. Love in truth doesn’t need any adjectives. It doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection. It only asks you to show up. And do your best. That you stay present and feel fully. That you shine and fly and laugh…

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THIS FLIBBERTIGIBBET

www.pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com

We met as a set
Fitting halves that chanced to jet
Fluttering hearts that attracted many a bet
And in between, no room to let
Bad winds and whispers did feel their fret
Which they threw like a ball freed fresh from the net
Sad that I am now his flibbertigibbet

II
If anyone had given a future photograph
Of our road map of present
By plotting an effective graph
I would have had his angelic side in a bad box to resent
Such a rhyme turned an unrhyming sound
From a cool set to a flibbertigibbet?
Such hug-able space to a hellish distance
Should I talk in an aside
Or a soliloquy?

III
The seat of the crown
Now wears a pierced water-filled bucket
Dripping in mud shoes
On the face he kissed
To wash the feet of disappointment which parades this heart
A flibbertigibbet,  he says

IV
Oh airy air!
Do keep me company
But keep my pain
In a door and windowless stone
One which has no mouth to echo
For this pain is so insane
Heart which roars like an angry lion
Needing that healing and the doors of Zion
I guess I have a space in a future bio
To rain cool words
On a burning heart
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

JUBILATION OF ONOMATOPOEIAISMS (CHAPTER 2)

Before long, carnivores called for a meeting. A meeting chaired by Hyenas.  The head of Hyenas, Hues, spoke

“I know that I am from one of the least powerful group here but I called this meeting to draw our attention to the implication of Lion’s message. It will kill us if we move from carnivores to herbivores. We only know a few herbs which cure our ailments. We don’t know them as food. If we give Gyaas the nod, we are doomed. We are finished, we are done for. A mass funeral with our carcasses on display will be our portion”

All present said “May God forbid”

“Then either we talk to that Gyaas or find a way to make sure he losses. You know the latter is difficult to achieve as he has won all the herbivores over. Even among the omnivores he has a huge backing. Killing Gyaas and making sure all his family are extinct is not an easy task”

Python chipped in “The things you say Hues! Let’s just speak to Lion. I know he may have a solution. After all, he is part of our zone. Good to know you are thinking but that law could actually save you from Lions and your masters at your superior end of the food chain but I guess your greedy thirst will not make you yield to the freedom the law promises you. Let’s go and meet Lion Gyaas then”

All the carnivores marched to the den of Lion Gyaas and presented their case. Gyaas surprised them by laughing so hard upon seeing the serious faces they wore and listening to their grievances.

“My dear family. You know you are my family. Will I sit by and watch you die together with me? This is a game of thrones. We need to be the royal family. When we climb that stool, we will know how to go about our deeds. This time, all we need is their nodding. The more nods we get, the better our chances of hunting for more. Instead of going to hunt, they will bring their game selves to us.  Don’t you get tired of playing hide and seek with your dishes before hunting them down? Just play along. This is a game in our favour. We need wisdom to succeed. He whom royalty fits must have a good head. We are in one class so understand. In the meantime, make sure no one sees you hunting another animal. Do that in secrecy to help me gain power. Power for me is power for us. Remember, even one hawk does not fear catching a chick in the midst of many fowls because of the power of strength. Strength coupled with all nods is absolute power. Who can fight against that?”

The carnivores heaved sighs of relief and shook hands with Lion and his wife; Striker, who had grown bigger in just a few hours, reeking of blood. The young ones came out with blood all over their mouths. The family head of Vultures, Opeteristas, stood on the far end of the tree close to the den and cheered them on silently.

Meanwhile, herbivores and some omnivores sang and danced to their hearts’ praises, loving the idea of freedom. While the other omnivores looked on, asking whether or not they would be able to quench their thirst for blood or curb their cravings for meet.

Crocodiles went into their seas and campaigned massively for Lion after Swans had campaigned. Even the water animals jubilated upon hearing the good news from the mouths of the propagandists who so differed in their choices of food and lifestyle. That every animal on land spoke for Lion won all nods even before the Nodding Day.

On the Nodding Day, every animal who could make it represented. The Nodding Day took place on the shores of the biggest sea which was barely a sea so all animals were able to represent. The land around that area was full, the sky around that area was full, and the sea was filled to the brim. Many sea animals travelled for days through the dirtiest of mud to be able to make it to cast give their nods. Even weak birds flew from North, South, East to the Western Palace Land to give their nods. Animals in the deserts walked miles on end to give their nods. In the end, Lion had the nods of all animals except Owl Watcher. But no one recognized his nod as anything important. At last, Lion Gyaas was king of the Jungle Kingdom. The first thing that happened was all animals bowing before him as he stood with his face into the sky as if telling God “I did it”.

Watcher asked those around him why they bow when they are all supposed to ascend the stool but they called him a disgruntled wizard of a bird who only loved catastrophe.

After the nodding, while all the animals moved to their original zones, King Gyaas made all grown porcupines his protectors, moving all the lion family to the most comfortable part of the jungle. He named the place, The Palace. Most of the animals were surprised and some started complaining. Hawk who was given the position of propagandist told a few animals that that was King Gyaas’ own way of studying the most suitable land and making in order to make the rest of the kingdom same for all. Within the day, almost all the animals had heard of this thought and praised the name of King Gyaas as the wisest king to rule Jungle Kingdom. Those who lived close to The Palace zones visited and were given water as the birds with the most beautiful voices serenaded them into complete reverence. They left with the song on their lips

“Gyaas is the King of Kings

The king who pain flings

The king who catapults fear in slings

The king who peace bell rings

Oh Gyaas is the King of Kings”

Meanwhile, Watcher made it his business to tell all those who cared to know that their king was the most cunning animal in the Jungle. He told Bat Bright

“You just study the carnivores in the night instead of hunting for food. And you will see what I am talking about. I will not open my mouth to tell why I am strongly against Gyaas and I won’t stop saying he is the worst thing that happened to Jungle Kingdom but I am confident you will find out soon enough.”

Three days after the nodding, three porcupines arrested Watcher in his sleep in broad daylight. The animals did not know what to make of the arrest. For no one had been arrested before in Jungle Kingdom. All animals were asked to sleep and not to wander around. Ant Ntat risked his life and stuck on one of the porcupines’ fur to know what all that was about. The protectors threw Watcher on the ground. Day burned his eyes as he struggled to see what was going on.

“So you go about talking ill of me huh?”

Watcher recognized the voice immediately. Gyaas’.

“You can fool all the animals in this jungle but you can’t fool me Gyaas”

Gyaas became angry. “What? Gyaas? You dare defy me by calling me Gyaas? This is pure treason. Tell me why you disrespect me so or pay with your life”

Ant Ntat regretted being stuck on a fur shivering like weak cotton in the winds. Gyaas’ voice had turned deep. He shook like he suffered from epilepsy and all his body decorations fell like on an order. He stood as himself, mane and all. Echoes of anger reverberating from him as his sweat poured from his mane. Something Ntat had never seen before.

“I know whatever I do will lead to my death. I see through you. I know your little secret. I got to know even before the Nodding Day. If those fools had listened to me, they would never have given you their nods. Angel in the day, hunter of souls at night”

Gyaas roared like he had never done before. The kingdom shook although none knew what had caused the King such anger. He roared and roared as the porcupines sought grounding so as not to fall.

END OF CHAPTER TWO. WATCH OUT FOR CHAPTER THREE NEXT WEEK

(Image taken from www.broadway.com)

CONTEMPORARY WRITER, NANA DAMOAH, SPEAKS AGAINST BAD EMERGENCY RESPONSE MEASURES IN GHANA

The accident involving a Metro Mass bus which claimed 62 lives has set many on furious road. In a chat with amoafowaa after the Joy FM NewsNight, Nana wrote:
“In examining emergency preparedness and response in the aftermath of the Kintampo accident.

See, unless we start speaking with bluntness about the state of affairs in our nation, we won’t improve.

For some of us who travel across Africa and not just across West Africa, it is clear how far we are being left behind as a nation by others who a few years ago couldn’t hold a torch to us. Our politicians continue to blow grammar in praising their abilities to throw crumbs our way, when they are in power, and join us to lament the mess they have created for us as a nation, when they are out of power. The only people who remain with the mess at all times are you and I, the ordinary people.

There is zilch emergency response in Sikaman. The best health policy is the grace of God and if you don’t have grace and money, you will die faster than the rate at which sim card prices fell.

Our leaders continue to praise themselves. The slide downwards continues. The people look on, afraid to talk. Content to be in political camps.

Long live the farce.

Nsempiisms. My mouth has fallen.”
Many are the rumours flying about. Many claim that most drivers of Metro Mass buses, which is state owned are mostly drunk, rude and drive recklessly. Others claim they are not even serviced as they should from time to time. Nana calls on all Ghanaians to speak bluntly so issues can be resolved. He further stated that his focus is on the bad emegency response which Kintampo only served as costly example.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

THE LOVE DANCE (VALENTINE SPECIAL)

fineartamerica.com
fineartamerica.com

“Kwadjo, nobody loves me. Why don’t they love me? This is my 17th relationship. And they all leave me before even asking me to the altar.” Shiela squeaked amidst the flowing tears.

“Am I that ugly? Am I that stupid? Do I love foolishly? Are there things I do that make me unlikeable? Kwadjo please tell me! Say something”

Kwadjo looked at his friend of fifteen years. Having loved her for over sixteen years, he had watched her go through all the relationships. It all start with her swearing the man is the “most awesome man on the planet”. Then she will talk about their romantic moves to woo her, show him their gifts and giggle while receiving their calls, all in his presence. Then it will get to the time when  she struggles to get hold of them without success and the depressing breakups and his dirty job as the wiper of her tears. She will cry in his arms and treat him as though he is nothing but a jobless feminine friend.

“What do you want me to say Akosua Korantemma” Shiela stopped crying and looked at him.

“This is the first time you have called me by my maiden name. What is happening? Am I boring you with my tears and whining?”

Kwadjo nodded. “You really are grinding my heart into sand.”

It was Shiela’s turn to act surprised. “What did I do? It must have been bad. I have never seen you act this way”

Kwadjo sat down and was amazed at the concern on her face. “Are you that concerned for me? Then look into my ears, feel my heartbeat and form your conclusion”

Shiela did and felt weird. It seems Kwadjo wants her as a woman but it is something she could not see herself doing. She regarded her as a big brother. She felt bad immediately. She had never seen him with any woman before. Her mother had always called him “Adwoa the Dog” for following her and supporting her without anything in return. And he had seen all her relationships. How can a man endure so much? She felt ashamed of herself and felt like a horrible friend who never saw his tears but always made him clean his. Seventeen boyfriends and he had been there all through. Not that he is good for nothing, not that he lacked money, not that he is stupid. She knows so many girls and ladies who are dying to be with him but can she be one of them? If she goes out with him, there is a probability that their relationship will also be ruined and she will lose his friendship and regret forever. And now that she thinks about it, if she does not go out with him, their relationship can never be the same again. Then again she could use this to her advantage. Going out with her best friend will make her know what she does wrong to ruin her relationships.

“Say something Shee Baby. You are making me nervous. This is the first time I have seen you speechless. And it is shaking my grounds of nervousness” Kwadjo pleaded.

“Promise me one thing Kwadjo” He readily agreed. “That no matter what happens between us, you will never cease to be my friend” Kwadjo promised whole heartedly but Shiela made him sign a bond of agreement. He signed that amidst laughter.

“Your first mistake is to make me sign this bond. It is telling me that you have a vision of a failing end. But I will show you that love is selfless. And knowing you as I do, I know I am ably aided” Kwadjo said. Shiela felt caught. Could it be that he knew he was using him? She shrugged and forgot about it.

So started a relationship that Kwadjo treasured but Shiela dreaded but after their first kiss, it was obvious it could be one of the fairytale stories. It was all smooth until Kwadjo was transferred to the neighbouring town; Kome to take over their company there. Back in Krapa, he had lunch with Shiela who was his colleague. He went to work with her and came back home with her. Having a car, he dropped her at her house before heading home. That had been their ritual for almost seven years.

Shiela cried secretly when news of his transfer broke. The co-workers looked on. Some sorry for both of them, others relieved because of their annoying love taunts. Kome was a boring place after work but the work schedule was too much being the regional capital. There was hardly time to breathe at the bank. Being the manager, there were always meetings and supervising and also solving one drama after another. He had never been as busy as he is in recent times. He spoke to Shiela first thing in the morning, called her at lunch and called her when he goes home. But Shiela kept calling him even in meetings. He tried explaining what was happening but she was too angry to listen. Before Kwadjo knew what was happening, Shiela had turned into an abusive lady, always suspecting him of cheating and or neglecting. So he arranged for her leave and brought her to Kome to spend time studying his schedules. Each morning he left with her for work. He created a room for her in his office and made sure she saw everything he did. From skipping meals to attending meetings, Shiela felt sorry for him.

“I am sorry Kwadjo for all the insults and troubles. I did not know. Maybe it was because of my failed relationships” She said in a shameful tone one evening after work.

Kwadjo took her into his arms and stroked her hair. “A man is a man and seeks to be a man to his better half always Shiela. Once you insult a man, his ego becomes bruised and most men run off after that. Some men cannot stand needy women. A woman who calls her man all the time is deemed needy because most men refuse to think of the possibility that they are lonely. There are opposing fears here. The man might decide to terminate the relationship or the woman might stop complaining and calling when she gets the attention she seeks somewhere. Relationships are huge examinations which require practical answers in historic happenings”

Shiela felt ashamed of herself. She instantly recognised that she had been the cause of most of her breakups. She loved calling to complain, calling to accuse, calling to insult. She held on to Kwadjo tightly without saying a word.

“The worst of troubles in relationships is when the woman calls out for a breakup. The man becomes afraid at first but the seed of jilting is planted firmly and so he begins to look for a replacement instead of trying to solve the issue at hand. Immature men do this. Promise me you will always think of things before saying them to me. I love you Shiela and my love is above all our problems.”

Shiela knelt down with tears streaming down her face.

“I cannot promise you this. I just have to apologise first. No man has ever taken me through his mind, into his heart to show me what goes on there. You are the first. I am so sorry for all I put you through, my harsh words. I don’t deserve you Kwadjo.”

Kwadjo took her into his arms again. “Don’t say that. We live and learn. There is no kneeling apology between people who love each other. Just the usual “sorry love, I now see my mistake” will do. I love you and loving you means taking all your faults and trying to make the bad better. When I wrong you, tell me lovingly in secret. That is what love is about”

With that, they made up. Shiela became content with her three calls. Time hardly flew by when news reached Kwadjo that one of their colleagues was dating his Shiela. He took his leave and went to see things for himself. He went everywhere with her. He was in Krapa for three days without Shiela knowing. He felt jealous because Shiela did not tell him about Dan, her colleague. He followed them into a bar and saw them drinking. Something he used to do with her a lot. He realised that he had been the cause of some of her breakups. He approached them and looked at their faces. Shiela was pleased and jumped to embrace him while Dan sat with traces of jealousy on his face. Kwadjo knew then what was happening. He was beginning to love his Shiela. He saw himself in him and pleaded after one drink to take her home but Shiela said

“Why plead? He and I were just having a drink. If my boyfriend is here, my friend can understand. Let’s go Kwadjo dear.”

That statement absolved all his doubts but he took her to his apartment and gave her his little present. Then decided to talk it out with her.

“Dan? You never mentioned him.”

Shiela laughed. “I never discuss my male friends with my boyfriends. It is just not right. I feel some way about it”

Kwadjo laughed. “Telling your boyfriend about your male friend puts him at ease. Trying to make them friends actually works better. I could have the misconception that you are lovers. And that can make any man withdraw. I must say sorry. I actually came here to see things for myself after I was told by over three people that you were going out with Dan. Jealousy is a bad feeling Shee Baby. Promise to tell me things and to at least put some limit between Dan and yourself.”

Shiela was amazed at the man who sat before her. Why on earth did she go out with all those jerks? Well, maybe she acted like a bitch to turn them into jerks. “Sorry honey. I never thought about that and I promise to watch out and put some distance between us.”

Kwadjo asked her to open her parcel and it was a car key. He had taught her how to drive and had forced her to get a driver’s license. Shiela was thrilled. “It is a car! A car for crying out loud Kwadjo”

She hugged him “I am so lucky to have you. I carry the bond we signed everywhere. Here, I am tearing it up. I know we can overcome all our problems no matter how intense. You have shown me with every hurdle we’ve bridged so far. You are the best part of me. God bless you.”

Many are the problems they faced in their relationship but none was able to shake their foundation. Kwadjo had ears to listen, Shiela had a mind to think rationally and they both had the maturity to admit their faults and make up in every bad situation they encountered. Love is friendship of respect and a mind of maturity to dissect all that the heart processes. So Shiela and Kwadjo tied the knot and lived as happy as any human couple could live.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

 

 

 

 

Romancing Ghanaland, Valentine Special

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Kofi Akpabli, multiple-award winning journalist and author of 4 books including Tickling the Ghanaian and Romancing Ghanaland, teams up with Kapokyikyiwofaase Nana Awere Damoah of Sebitically Speaking and I Speak of Ghana fame to bring you another exciting evening of book reading!

Come join them romance the valentine sebitically in the newly-opened Sytris Bookshop, East Legon.

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Date: 13 Feb 2016
Venue: SyTris Bookstore, East Legon near A&C Mall
Time: 4.30pm – 6.30pm

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Don’t come alone!

Brought to you under the auspices of Writers Project of Ghana, and supported by THREADEX.

(7) DeBorah and A Better Balance

Support Debbie. Fighting for a good cause is all that we need to be fulfilled.

Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit

Source: (7) DeBorah Le Raconteur

Me and two Members of my A Better Balance Team helping to get justice and the right to care for my brother Stephen who has Autism!!

Removing the stigma thrust upon caregivers and their disabled relatives by the workplace! Go Team!!

Here is an article from A Better Balance about the Paid Family Leave Rally and my personal fight for Stephen!!  Please read and Please support A Better Balance through generous donations.  Thank you!

http://www.abetterbalance.org/web/blog/entry/vice-president-biden-and-governor-cuomo-champion-paid-family-leave-at-manhattan-rally

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