An open mind is never limited. The things I see, feel, and touch daily, they are my greatest assets. You will get to know me as a person since there's usually a part of me that's expressed in the things I write. And if you are inspired, then I'm encouraged. That's the goal of a writer; to inspire.
her concern about how nosey some maids are, Twumwaa has always trusted Abigail
and treated her like an elder sister. She liked her the very first day Abigail
was brought into the house by her mother, and since then they’ve been very
you trust me enough to tell me if anything is the matter, right?”
on Abie! How many times do I need to tell you to stop calling me ma’am, huh?” “It’s
not me ooo. You know I’ve been doing this for a while now, I guess it’s part of
me now. Besides, that’s the right thing to do.”
Abie…And who told you that calling me ma’am is the right thing to do,” Twumwaa
replied. “I’d really appreciate it if you could stop calling me ma’am.”
to your question, yes! You know I’d tell you if there was something bothering
me. For now, I’m incredibly fine. There’s really nothing serious going on with
me.” “Is that so?” “Yes of course, Abie!”
“Trust me, if something is wrong with me, you’ll be the first to know! Twumwaa
who was at the other end of the phone with ma’am yesterday? And what does she
mean by, things aren’t okay with you?” Abigail asked.
Abie, I really don’t know what ma’am’s problem is ooo. She has been acting weird
lately and it beats my imagination. Honestly, I have no idea who was on the
other end of the phone, and I don’t know what she meant by thing aren’t okay
with me,” Twumwaa replied in response.
a while, Abigail mumbled to herself as she stood up to continue to clean the
room. As she began to mop up the remaining part of the floor, she said to
Twumwaa, “actually there’s something I had wanted to ask you since last week.”
and, why haven’t you? She asked. Abigail scratched the back of her head and
said, I wasn’t sure if it was my place to ask.
you don’t need permission to ask me anything, okay. I’ve always told you, that
you’re like a big sister to me.” Come here… sit down. “What is it that you wanted
to ask me?” she asked her. “Last week I noticed you’ve cut your hair short, and
I was quite surprised because I’ve never seen you do that and now that you are
contemplating cutting it even shorter, I’m tempted to know why?” Perhaps, that’s
what ma’am is worried about,” she said.
they continued talking, Abigail heard a knock on the door.
you hear that?” Abigail asked in a low toned voice. “Hear what? What are you
talking about?” Twumwaa replied. “I thought I just heard someone knocked.” Stay tuned for the next episode Thank you. read, comment, share (xoxo)
Looking back and reflecting on the happenings during the campaign period, particularly over the weeks leading up to the 7th December Election, as the idea circulated in the minds of most Ghanaians that election results might be heavily protested, I noticed the focus was, to a large extent, on the presidential candidate of the opposition New Patriotic Party (NPP), Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo and his running mate Alhaji Mahamudu Bawumia PhD, and the supporters of the NPP. This is not to say that there was no focus on the John Dramani Mahama and the NDC camp. Perhaps the focus on the NPP camp was at the level it was because the NPP had carved a reputation for itself having protested the previous presidential election. Also, the focus was more on the NPP and the Nana Addo camp because until now, a sitting president has never lost an election.
However, depending upon your political association and personal views, as well as your source of news, there would be no cause for worry from the camp.
The December 7th election presented a stupendous defeat and trauma moment for the NDC and its supporters. So what's the appropriate response to that moment for the NDC faithfuls? Through WhatsApp chats, Facebook posts, blog posts and tweets, I've heard from so many NDC faithfuls - their disappointment over the election results, the fear over what life under the Nana Addo regime will be like for most of the NDC big guns. Their frustration and tears, and for some, the fear that the Nana Addo regime has nothing to offer to promote the development agenda of Ghana than to witch-hunt the big guns in the NDC, has become the song on their lips.
Let me propose a more neutral perspective to both camps - "take it to the Lord in prayer."
As for me, I'll be praying as someone who went to the polls unenthusiastic about the two major candidates for president because none was able to convince me enough. But I voted because I had hope, and I wish that all over Ghana, people will accept that change has come so we need to move forward.
And as president Nana Addo stated in his inaugural speech, that we should all be responsible and play our part in moving Ghana forward, I shall pray that, Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo, president of Ghana, will be a better president than most people expect. I pray that he will be open to life transforming perspectives regardless of whichever quarters they originate from. I pray that he will receive advice and good counsel from the team he will assemble. I pray also that he will open his heart, mind eyes and ears to those outside of his chosen team, who have the interest of Ghana at heart. Most importantly, I pray that Nana Addo becomes the most successful president yet, because Nana Addo's success is Ghana's success.
I was particularly happy when I heard former president, John Dramani Mahama encouraging everyone to give the new president all the support he needs. I therefore appeal to every Ghanaian, regardless of which camp you belong or faith, to pray for president Akufo-Addo because a prayer for Akufo-Addo, is a prayer for Ghana.
Let me officially take this opportunity to wish you my cherished reader and followers a Happy New Year!!!. May this year, 2017, be our best year ever.
Late last year, I took to Facebook to inform my Facebook friends that I'd be releasing a maiden series called "The Girl Next Door." It's with great joy that I present to you the first episode of this inspiring and revealing series.
Don't be surprised by what you'd discover as the story unfolds. I can confidently tell you that these are happening in our everyday lives. It's my hope that this story will inspire and teach us some valuable lessons.
entered Twumwaa’s bedroom and found her standing in front of the mirror,
examining the length of her hair. I’m contemplating cutting it even shorter, what
do you think? Mom thinks I’m going crazy, do you think so too? Twumwaa asked,
turning back to look at Abigail.
shrugged and regarded her. “Not sure – you know what they say. When a woman
cuts her hair, there’s no going back and as in your case, when she’s not married,
she’s indirectly saying she’s not interested,” she said.
Twumwaa gave a short
laugh. The mirror reflected the spear like look in her eyes to her favourite
maid. “Those are just fallacies. If a man is meant for you, he will notice you
whether you have a long hair or short hair. It’s about what makes me
comfortable and confident. So, don’t believe everything you hear,” she said.
Abigail asked. Abigail dipped the mop into the water, a few steps away from
Twumwaa’s bed and began to mop up the floor in a methodical manner.
what I said,” Twumwaa replied as she covered her head with a scarf.
began to make a humming sound, “take it to the Lord in prayer.”
what she was doing. “If you have something to say Abigail, just say it.”
opened her mouth, and for a while it looks like she was about to say something.
“Hmmm, I have nothing to say oo.”
“That’s not true and you know it. Each time
you hum such tunes, you always have something to say, so what is it?” Abigail
hesitated for a while, “alright, I don’t want you to think that I’m being a
gossip, ma’am I just heard there’s”
of all, do not call me ma’am, I’m not my mother. Second, and for the record, I
don’t think you are a gossip, ever. We’re friends, remember?” Twumuwaa
Abigail placed the mop on the floor and walked over to Twumwaa. She sat on the
edge of her bed and held her right shoulder.
“Is everything okay with you,
child?” “Just that yesterday, I overheard ma’am say something over the phone.”
Twumwaa arched her brow. “What did she say?” “That, things aren’t okay right with you-
that she’s trying so hard to get through to you but you just wouldn’t budge.”
“What things? What are you talking about?” Twumwaa asked as she cleared her
shrugged. “I don’t know. It just got me wondering, that’s all. Since yesterday,
I’ve been worried about you, trying to figure out what the problem might be,”
Twumwaa grunted. She has always liked Abigail and considered her
as a sister, the one she never had, even though Abigail is much older than her.
But the awareness that she possess intimate details about her ordeal disturbed
She has an idea of how maidservants like to huddle in hidden coners,
whispering about their employers. The last thing she needed was any form of
rumour spreading about her life.
a moment, she wished she had not cut her hair. But she did that just to get her
mother of her back. Her mother has, over the past two weeks worried her to go
out to the saloon and get her hair done, when all she wanted to do was to stay
at home after she has taken some time off work. Now, it seems Twumwaa has found
a way to get her mother of her back.
This morning as I walked down the street of Accra Central, I
thought about the numerous strangers that I’ve passed by.
What's their story?
There was this crazy looking man by the crosswalk yelling at almost everything that passed by, whether cars or people. What's his story?
Did he sell drugs to rich friends so he could attempt to keep up with their lifestyles
and now he has an addiction to the commodity? His friends nowhere to be found.
Tired of his shit?
What about the smartly suite-up lawyer who was caught jumping the traffic light
while speaking to someone on the phone?
Is he late to work because he had to take care of the kids ?
Or the heavily built guy with his old and dirty clothes with headphones in his
ears, whom I couldn’t tell who he was or what he does? He turned out to be my
angel. His presence kept the crazy man from yelling at me as I crossed the
What was his story?
Perhaps he was oblivious to my gratitude. Maybe he is one of those guys who
carry heavy loads for market women and others for money.
Do any of these people wonder about my story? The school girl with curly hair
with a backpack slung over her shoulder. Do they know how I carry the weight of
the world on my shoulders? Do they see I am trying to stay strong as the storm
rushes in and makes changes in my life?
Do they know I'm worried because a lot of responsibility on my shoulders? Do
they know I face financial uncertainty? My girlfriend expects me to meet almost
all her needs.?
No they probably don't know this but maybe they know as I know that no matter
what is thrown in our paths the ultimate purpose is love pulling us closer to
He sat on a circular wooden centerpiece, the smooth ceramic pot just behind his back, and there were people mingling all over the place. The entire hallway beautifully illuminated by a strand of light bulbs. The atmosphere, so serene, and the breeze which came towards the hallway were gentle and warm. There was a low continues background voices as people laughed and chatted among themselves. There were only a couple of people he knew there, and even them he knew from his college days. So it feels very awkward to be there with people he hardly knew; just like the feeling you get when you are surrounded by more people you don't know at all. He had no idea why he came. He figured on a whim, why not? He usually don't hang with these guys and he begun to question why he bothered coming out. What interests these people does not interest him. He doesn't really like to do what the like to do. The closest link was that they were class mates.
As he was deeply lost and buried in his thought, he noticed that there was someone sitting close to him. She seems to have similar thoughts on her mind, frustrated and nervous as he was. He saw an opportunity to kill his boredom, and felt he should start a conversation. She's a cute girl, clothed in a very beautiful flowered blouse over a blue jeans trouser and a pair of red shoes.
He sort of started a conversation. She'd laugh and giggle, he'd concur with what she said. Then a few drinks and the two of them were in loose tongues as they engaged in an in-depth conversation about a popular local TV series called "YOLO."
Later that night, they went to his place and engaged in a further conversation, with a recall of a few good moments from the earlier part of the night, which became more than that. There was an embrace, then a kiss, so deep and passionate..., and for the rest, your guess is as good as it can get. The next day, neither he nor she had regretted what had transpired the previous night. It then went on for weeks and weeks became months, and soon he asked the question she wanted to hear, "will you be my wife?" With a few tears of joy, she responded "yes."
Before his eyes, there she was walking down the aisle, in the gown of her dreams, and it was as white as snow. And him suit up in a smartly cut Italian tuxedo, in the midst of his friends, in his boyhood church. They both said "I do." And there it was; what every guy dreams of. Then he looked around him, and the church, the snow-white gown, the excitement' all gone. Just the light that illuminates the hallway was all he could see, and he was left there sitting on the circular wooden centerpiece only to realize he was daydreaming.
Baffled, he looked round to see if he could catch a glimpse of the mystery girl. Then he looked to his right and saw a girl that fits the description of his mystery girl, and the first question he asked her was, "what do you think of YOLO?" She looked at him and said, "I love YOLO!"
Initially, I was very reluctant about the idea of writing, not alone contemplate the possibility of blogging. I was really skeptical that my thoughts, ideas, feelings and perspective on things were important enough to share. The thought that someone might read my stuff and criticize me about how bad a write I am was what terrified me, so I said to myself, "why even bother."
Twumwah is a very special friend. The first time I ever had a face to face conversation with her, it felt as though we had been friends for years. Perhaps, she was very receptive and such an amazing communicator. This fact I've established over the course of the duration of our friendship.
During the course of our conversation, she asked me, ''if you're given the opportunity to ask for one natural ability, what will you ask for?'' In my response, without hesitation, I said, "the ability to express my thoughts, ideas, feelings and emotions on paper; to be a good writer. That's what I'd ask for."
"What's preventing you from doing just that?" She asked. "I'm not sure I have the capacity to write," I replied. "Let me tell you, you can write if only you want to write. Don't sell yourself short. The possibility is there, don't limit it," she said.
She telling me to give it a try because the possibility exists did not guaranteed that I'd be a good writer. However, I wouldn't know until I decide to write. All along, I use to think that you have to be some scholar of a sort in English to be able to write. But then I realized that I don't have to be an English scholar or someone with a major in English to be able to express my thoughts, ideas, feelings and emotions. For some reason, I decided a blog was, maybe, the best way I could explore this possibility. To say the least, something has changed.
As simple as my writing may seem, it does not change the fact that my thoughts, ideas, feelings and emotions may be important enough and needs to be shared. Limitless Possibilities is more like me and for me. It is a medium through which I express the thoughts and ideas wondering on my mind, as well as my personal feelings and emotions. I don't suppose that I have a large readership, but if you decide to read these feelings, emotions, the thoughts and ideas of mine which I have expressed, then I crave your indulgence not to say to yourself, "he's such an amateur." For I'm fully cognizance of the fact that these expressions of my feelings, emotions, thoughts and ideas are nothing more than a roughly organized ramblings, but it's who I am - absolutely raw
I've decided to name my blog Limitless Possibilities because that's what I've come to believe in, that the possibilities are limitless. I now live every moment of my life with the mentality that whatever I wish to do, and whatever I wish to become, the possibility to do or become that which I wish to become exists and there's absolutely no limit. The only limit there is are those which we have created in our mind. That's why legends have it that, "if only you can conceive it in your mind and believe it in your heart, then you can achieve." Bible then says that, "whatsoever things ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive and ye shall receive." And so, your faith in God will carry you through every moment and make it glorious.
I'm talking about Limitless Possibilities because, the Possibility of whatever you wish to do or wish to become really exists and I for one have realized it.