A Prayer for Akuffo Addo is A Prayer for Ghana

 

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.

The Girl Next Door - Episode 1

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.

Inception

Abigail 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.

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.

“Everything?” 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.

“That’s what I said,” Twumwaa replied as she covered her head with a scarf.

Abigail began to make a humming sound, “take it to the Lord in prayer.”

Twumwaa stopped what she was doing. “If you have something to say Abigail, just say it.”

Abigail 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”

“First 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 interrupted her.

“Okay.” 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 throat.

Abigail 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,” she replied. 

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 Twumwaa. 

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.

For 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.

Stay tuned for the next episode

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(xoxo)

What's Your Story?

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 street.

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 it.

Broken Hearts

He wants to get married to her.

She wants to marry him too.

Their relationship  may not be perfect but whose is?

He's good to her and reliable.

They are best friends.

She knows he loves her despite her flaws

He loves her.

She brings excitement.

She stood by him through thick and thin.

There's a comfort level.

She really wants a wedding.

She wants the proposal and the ring.

It doesn't have to be big or fancy.

Simple and small is preferred.

However her family says no.

They are supposed to support and be there for her.

They said no because of some ancient fallacy  with no logical reasoning

Family has broken their hearts.

Where's the love they've always preached?

They've destroyed young love and lives because of tribal sentiments.

And he knows if it doesn't come from their hearts, it is not free.

And he doesn't want to be into it.

Because he doesn't want to incur the wrath of her family

So what happens next?

Do they fight for their love; their happiness?

Do they denounce their families

What would you do?

A Boy's Fantasy

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!"

Limitless Possibilities

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.

                                                                                                         

  

My Super Dad: The Hero Within

When I was a child, it was easy to look at my dad and think that he was without a doubt the coolest, bravest, strongest and the most successful man in the world. I watched him cleared hectors of land within days with  his crocodile branded machete (cutlass) alone, build a tree house storage facility for the end of season harvest, taught us, his children, about everything, from being successful on the farm to being successful in almost every aspects of our lives, and I pretend he was a superhero. My imagination equates him to the likes of the superheroes I've heard of and seen in science fictions - the Superman, Thor, Achilles, Arrow, etc who did everything with the greatest of ease.

As people, we are born to worship. We have the inborn desire to idolize something or someone. We find that which is good and make it into something great. This is the ultimate reason why we have superheroes in the first place. They have the outlook of the ordinary everyday people, but beneath this ordinary everyday people's appearance, they are so different, and are set apart. As a child, I idolized my dad and ranked him up there with these super-humans because he was the closest thing I had to a superhuman.

But as I grew up into a man, I've learned that my dad was flawed. He became less and less superhuman, and more and more ordinary, perhaps, because I was fast coming up into a man of my own. I've seen that life is not just about a sequel of glorified success, but a journey of daily failures and accompanying victories. I've watched him work and hurt and toil and grow and be frustrated and he has made mistakes. We've pulled the pedestal out from beneath him and he fell down and became just another man, getting by as best as he could in this confused world.

Then something truly amazing happens, I've come to realize that my dad really is a superhero, and he has been all along; not as I've imagined as a child but in a way that makes him worthy of truly being a hero. A real dad, I realized, is one who spend hours of his day on the farm for every single day that I've lived., working on the same farm doing the same thing for decades, who wakes up at 2 am and goes into the woods to tap palm wine to raise money for his children's school fees. A real dad is one who, for the sake of his family, break the bones in his fingers, had his skin and finger nails peeled off without even knowing.

A real dad, I've come to understand, is one who after a long day on the farm, still comes home to help in the kitchen. A real dad, you've taught me, is one who disciplines and mentors his children. He's their best friend, and very importantly, pays the bills, and all of this not for his own sake but for the sake of those he loves. What makes my dad a superhero is not that he's an extraordinary man, but because he's an ordinary man who sacrifice his own glory and became a selfless man for our sake.

In this light, dad goes from being an ordinary man to being a superhuman because of love, the greatest power of all; the selfless kind of love that put us, his children and wife before himself. He sets aside his personal desire, dreams and glory so he could be the best dad and provide for us. Rather than worship you as a superhero, I aspire to be like you because you are normal and real, and ordinary, and because you are an ordinary man who has done extraordinary things.

There's no other better and ordinary way to be grateful than to say THANK YOU DAD for setting aside your desire, dreams and personal glory for our sake. Thank you for teaching my brothers and me to love the ordinary man's way.

You're my Dad, my Superhero