Akaa & Alima II

The second part is out! (Already!! Don’t I deserve any accolades please? Lol!) Thank’s for the feedback on the last one guys!

PS. It might get a bit steamy in here… lol, but lets see how it goes eh? As always, please let me know what you think. (Especially what I can do better :D) If you haven’t read the first one yet, find it here: Akaa & Alima

Enjoy your weekend! ❤


She was 12. Obviously the youngest in the maternity room. And shrieking in terrible pain. “Your colleagues are sitting behind desks studying, and look where you are!”

“Don’t you dare scream – you shouldn’t have been sleeping around in the first place!!”

“If I hear you one more time, you will spell out to me this minute what you were doing with a man, when you were supposed to be in school!”

There were only two nurses that were actually nice to her.  Some were indifferent. Others only insulted her behind her back. None of them actually knew the story, but it didn’t really matter. She was in so much pain, she doubted their being nice would make any difference. She just wanted the thing out of her as soon as possible.

The doctor had scheduled her for a C – section, but she’d gone into labour way before. She was apparently already close enough by the time she got to the hospital. So they let her try.

At the point when she thought the pain was going to make her pass out, one of the nice nurses started shouting! The head is here, finish hard!

It was a baby boy.

Adzo never really knew who her father was. He could have been any of the many men her mother brought home from time to time when she was much younger. When she was ten, she started seeing one man more often than the rest. He was a scary bulky man, for whom her mother would cook proper meals. He seemed to give her money also, because suddenly they were eating better than before, and wearing better clothes.

They moved in to live with him about six months later. And that’s when it all started. It started with little anger issues. And steadily progressed to very harsh words. “If I hadn’t brought you and your daughter out of that gutter you were living in, would you be here telling me whatever you want to say?” A few times, there were actual hot slaps!

A few months after they’d moved in with him, she could tell her mother was fed up. But she needed the help. She wanted Adzo to go to a good school, and she wanted to get more from the provision store he had set up for her. And of course, she was enjoying the ‘upgrade’. She was no longer the rumour of their tiny village. Those who insulted her in the past no longer had grounds to.

He started forcing himself on Adzo when she was eleven. She was so scared, it took her a whole month to report him. The first time she told her mother, she slapped her hard across her face with the back of her right hand! Her large fake ring left a tiny cut on her face. ‘You are a witch! You want to spoil my marriage eh? You and that bastard father of yours were brought into my life to destroy me eh?! It will not work!’

He was there that evening. He knew why she was being beaten. He knew he had leverage now. So he kept at it.

She had no idea when she got pregnant. Her period hadn’t even regularized since menarche. She passed out in school one hot Wednesday afternoon, and was rushed to hospital. All she saw when she got conscious was her mother wailing.

“Adzo you just want to disgrace me in this life.” Her stepfather was sitting next to her, looking just as disappointed. That was probably what confused her the most. “Who is the father? Which schoolboy have you been messing around with?”

Apparently she’d gotten anaemic, and a routine pregnancy test they did for all young girls showed she was pregnant. Her parents had been called and told. Suddenly, she was the bad girl.

She remembered crying so much, wondering if anyone was ever going to believe her. One afternoon, before she was discharged home, one young doctor walked in and sat with her. “If you want me to call the police, I will.” That’s all she said. She knew. Someone finally believed her. Of course she had asked her not to call the police. It was a taboo to bite the hand that fed you. She didn’t want her mother hating her all the rest of her life.

After the baby was born, her mother had her sent to live with her father’s family. She never actually met the man himself. But after a week in their home, she was sent to the City. She’d heard them talk about where they were sending her. They assumed she could only speak Ewe. She had friends who spoke Twi. She knew they were sending her someplace that took young girls and gave the family good money. She didn’t care at that point. She didn’t know what the point of her existence was really. They might as well send her far far away.

It was the last time she saw any of her family members.


It was at noon that Akaa was given the letter. Alima (Her name was Lina to her clients.) was brought in to him an hour later. She was dressed in a wine tank top, and mid-thigh length white jeans. She was beautiful. Very beautiful. Tall, and dark. Glossy dark. Lupita kind of dark. Her eyes were big and searching, her lips were naturally very full. Akaa hardly met females that were anywhere near his height. But this one could easily stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

“You must be Mr.  007 – it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you!” Her heart was thumping the whole time, as she extended her hand to greet him. He was even more striking than he looked in the photo.

“I am, and you must be Lina, you’re very beautiful!”  

They exchanged pleasantries, and decided they wanted to go for a swim.

The agency had two indoor swimming pools, and two outdoor ones. Their whole resort was very security conscious, because of the clientele they had, and the kind of privacy they required. So it didn’t matter which of the pools they chose – they would have all the privacy they needed.

They decided on the outside pool. He wanted to see her beauty in sunlight. She changed into a dark red bikini, which complimented her dark skin so beautifully. Akaa had seen so many beautiful women. He’d dated many, even had many of them move to him. But this young girl somehow had him reeling.

“I’d be really happy if you could put this sunscreen on my back… my skin tends to feel a bit weird when I’ve been in the sun too long.”  Akaa was more than happy to. He lay her on her back, and lathered the sunscreen all over, in a very salacious manner.

“Is this why you have such beautiful skin? Sunscreen?” She laughed.

“My skin is all good genes. Almost no effort. I wish I had some sort of routine to share.” They both chuckled.

Lina had been taught all what to do… she’d been prepared a whole year for this client. But it seemed as if she was forgetting all she was taught. She genuinely liked him! In preparation, she had had five other clients, and none of them were anything like Akaa.

They were hardly interested in her as a person. They only wanted the discreet adventurous sex they paid so heavily for, and that was it. Probably just one of them actually knew/remembered what her name was.

Akaa was interested in her. He wanted to hear her life story – of course she was not supposed to tell it. She didn’t. He looked at her like he wanted her – not just for the sex. Like she was desirable, as a person. He gave her butterflies. And that was almost a new concept for her.

In the swimming pool, he wasn’t interested in groping her underwater, as apparently was the custom of many of the men. He wanted to race her for a few laps. He splashed her with water, and she retaliated. He was fun. She liked fun.

Lina had been instructed to tease him – and that she did. Tease him till the stroke of midnight – no sex, no head. They’d watched a movie in the living room of his suite. It was one of those touchy feely ones, and she had been in his arms the whole time. Stroking his thigh half the time, noting how aroused he was, and purposely pretending she hadn’t.

He swung her head around at one point, and kissed her. It was a slow kiss. As if he really wanted to taste her. She didn’t protest, until his hands started going up her shirt. It wasn’t quite that bad till she felt his fingers on her right nipple. She started questioning herself. She was probably not going to be able to hold back till midnight like she thought. This was the first man she had actually wanted. The others were obviously duty, even though she was great at acting as if she wanted them. This one, she wished she could have – and they hadn’t even made love yet.

“You’re torturing me, Lina!”  She only laughed, and walked to the bar, to grab a drink. She swayed her broad hips as much as she could – she knew he’d be watching.

It was a little after 10PM when their movie ended. And she had to figure out a way to fill the time, or he’d have her on her knees in five minutes.

“You know, you still have this innocence about you. And I know that to be working here, and be sent to me in particular, you must have been here a while.”

She smiled. “I don’t think I’m innocent, Sir.”

“Please call me Akaa. I know I’m not supposed to tell you my name. But I like you. Call me Akaa.”

It was when they finally got round to love making that she knew she was screwed. She knew there was no way she would forget him. There was no way she could work with other men without thinking of this night. While she was bent on pleasing him, and ensuring that he had a grand start to his 40th birthday, he had his mind set on ensuring her pleasure as well. As she squirmed uncontrollably in his hands after he’d expertly eaten her out, he lay watching her for a while, and then started kissing her face and ears and neck and chest.


Akaa was amazed. Not many women had brought out this feral sex beast out of him. Lina was beautiful. She was… innocent, for the lack of a better word. She knew what she was doing, but she lacked the outrageous expertise that came with knowing a girl had been with so many men.

She was just perfect. Didn’t try to make a show of her orgasms – they overwhelmed her thoroughly, she seemed almost embarrassed by them. She didn’t seem like a sham. He knew many of the girls were.

And when she went down to give him head, he could swear he saw shooting stars! She started slow and thorough, and before he could say jack, she had him all the way back to her throat. He came in her mouth, and she gagged for a bit, trying to swallow it all.

What a woman!

“I love it when a woman can tell me what she wants or doesn’t want during sex.”

She seemed surprised by his remark.

“You want me ranting and raving and panting altogether?” He chuckled… “Was I that bad?” She laughed out loud.

“I don’t know for sure if I know exactly what I want. I haven’t been with m….”

She paused, embarrassed. Because she knew that she was supposed to be experienced. She was supposed to know these things, somehow she really didn’t.

“I did enjoy everything we did… She said, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

He kissed her neck and held her tight against his chest. He realised she was going to be in his thoughts anytime he and Dionne made love.

And none of the girls had ever had that effect on him.

Akaa & Alima

It has been months since I wrote anything proper. Writers block? Coronavirus? Work? Let’s blame them all lol. I’ve been working on this lately since Perspectives publishing is taking forever (thanks to the global pandemic).

This is an incomplete story, about some realities of life. I don’t have a title for it yet, so let’s just call it Akaa & Alima. Thank you guys for reading my stuff, and critiquing me, and encouraging me, even threatening me! Perspectives will definitely be published soon. In the meantime, here’s Akaa & Alima.

PS. To all the Barca fans out there… my condolences? Lol! It gets better… take it from this Arsenal fan!


Dear Mr 007.

Today, we have a special young lady for you. We realised you were getting tired of seeing the same old faces over and over again, and we took it upon ourselves to change that today.

As always, this young lady is to be at your beck and call for the duration of your visit here. She is to ensure that you have a comfortable stay in every possible way, especially considering that tomorrow is a special day for you. To ensure that tomorrow is made extra special, she is under strict orders to disallow anything sensual, until the stroke of midnight, when the day begins. Everything else, however, is allowed.

She is a deeply affectionate lady, and has been trained to take care of you, and your needs. Don’t hesitate to let her know if there’s anything you’d want or need. As much as it may seem so, she will not be a passive partaker, rather, a very active one. Unless of course, at any point in time, you’d prefer her passivity.

She is not a good dancer by many standards. However she will enjoy dancing with you, and is very warm to that prospect. She knows you do not want anything extra … however that term ‘extra’ is very relative. By her standards, there will be nothing extra.

 As you always do, We know you will treat her with all the respect, dignity, and care that’s necessary. You are set to have an amazing visit, which will constantly replay in your memories, and leave you wanting much much more.

We, as always, have you in mind. You remain our favourite client.

Cheers.

Management.

PS. As you already know, this message will self-destruct an hour after you open it.

Akaa could already feel his loins twitching. It had been a long while. Initially, he did this once every month or so, when he could. At least for the most part. Because of business though, and a few other things that needed handling, he hadn’t visited in close to eight months. But they knew he’d be back for his birthday month. He needed the time away.

‘They’ were a company that ensured that his sexual needs and fantasies were all taken care of. They were very discreet, very reliable, and had never failed him in the past 2 years that he’d been frequenting their facility

Akaa was a married man. Married with three beautiful kids – A six year old boy who was a spitting image of him, their surprise 5 year old girl, and their adorable two year old girl.

His wife was beautiful! His most prized asset, he called her. Whenever they attended an event together where he had to speak, he’d call her up and introduce her – always, without fail. “And everyone, this is my precious Dionne, my most prized asset.”

Dionne was very light skinned, with delicate features. She was mixed-race, half Lebanese, a quarter Ghanaian, and a quarter Ivorian. She was also very petite – didn’t look like she’d had three children. At thirty five, she looked twenty. She was the lead Pharmacist at a large pharmaceutical company. She was great at her job, great at being a wife, and even better at being a mother. Only issue he had with Dionne was how unadventurous she was. But that was okay. He didn’t want to bother her with things that would put a strain on their marriage. So he made sure to take good care of her, and the kids too, while ensuring he was also well taken care of from time to time. He took her everywhere whenever he could. She knew most of the nitty-gritty of his work, and knew when he had to be out late and when he had to travel for work. She was also a pretty busy person. Hence she trusted him – there was no room or time for mistrust.

Once every month or two, she ‘knew’ he had to travel for an audit. It was held in different places, and she could not possibly suspect a thing, when she was the one who always packed and unpacked his bags, and never found anything odd.

He didn’t want to disrespect her by finding a side-chick, or some regular girl, that would one day show up at his house to blackmail him. So the agency was ideal, really.

He had stumbled upon the agency quite by mistake actually. He had driven out of town once when he needed to think – there was a great business deal he was getting into, and much as it was going to be lucrative, it also had excessive risks. Driving helped him think. So he’d driven two hours out of his home in Accra, somewhere close to the Kwahu Mountains.

He was cruising somewhere in the mountains, in a particularly deserted area, when he spotted the building. It was almost underground. Initially it looked like a fancy new factory that was half above ground, half underground. After circling it for a bit, it looked like a huge hotel. There was no signage, so he got curious. He drove in, thinking he’d call Dionne and say he took a drive and only just realised he was too far out to drive back home.

He wasn’t allowed in initially. The security man had to confirm from the front desk if he could be allowed in. he was asked for his name, and a photo ID, to be able to get the verification from the front desk.

Of course most people had heard of him. So it wasn’t hard getting in. and when he did get in, he was ushered in the manager’s office. She was a beautiful young woman, looked mid-forties. She had a short perm cut, and had well-done make up. Her eyes were big and beautiful, and when she got up to meet him and shake his hands, he realised she had long, beautiful legs.

She was a pleasant woman. She explained that they were an up and coming human resource centre that was planning to train different people from all walks of life, for different positions in different companies. They exchanged pleasantries, and he returned home that evening.

It wasn’t until a few months later, that an old colleague visited from Switzerland. They were in deep conversation at the golf club, when he mentioned an agency that ensured that men had their needs well taken care of. They however had a number of rules, of which discretion was the biggest. They gave code names to each member, and communicated via special email servers, with emails that would automatically delete a few hours after being read. It was a very well planned and very thought out system they had. It excited Akaa.

They never forced any of the girls into anything. They took care of each girl’s education and wellbeing, and none of the girls ever had any complaints about the system. Their facility also had everything in-built, so there was little to no chance of getting found out. They had surveillance cameras all around and did not let just anybody past their gates. And if they did, they fronted as an HR institution. Each person also signed series of NDAs, so it was somewhat foolproof.

It dawned on Akaa then that it must have been that facility he saw. They allowed new members in only via referrals. So his friend got him hooked up, and that started his new lifestyle.

It made his life so much easier. There were no plans of destroying his marriage – he had a great marriage. And he had a great sex life on the side. He didn’t have to worry about the fortnightly missionary sex they had. He was fine with it, because he knew that he had a regular supply of doggy-style, wheel barrow, good head (Dionne didn’t give head) etc. and it was all no strings attached! It was an expensive agency, but it was very well worth it.


Alima was fifteen when she was sent in by her uncle. She had always been the beautiful girl everyone envied – she developed rather early, and was quite voluptuous for a fifteen year old.

She was the tall wide – eyed girl, with rich black skin, and thick full hair. She’d been lucky in that regard. Her brothers all had their father’s skin – light with freckles, and their mother’s physique – stout. She on the other hand, had taken her mother’s black luxurious skin, and her father’s family buxom figure.  Black, silky smooth skin, with no effort required to maintain, and the body of a goddess! She was also a very smart girl. Although her father did not believe in education, she had heard about school from one of the rich boys, who had lived in the city for a while, and been to school. He could read, and had started teaching her a thing or two. Everyone knew it was only because he wanted to marry her.

Hamamat, her mother, was the first wife. There were three wives. She’d had only sons initially – six of them. Alima was the last child, and the only girl. Her mother loved her so! No matter what happened at home, she was always the favoured one.

Her father wanted to marry her off quickly. Because of her exceptional beauty, he knew he could give her away for a very large dowry. But Hamamat wouldn’t have it!  She wanted her daughter to go to school and have a beautiful future. She didn’t want for her the kind of life she had been dealt with – the kind she had no say about. Her daughter would have a say.

So she delayed the marriage many years. But she knew her tactics were not going to keep working. So when she turned 15, her mother asked her brother to send her to the city. To ensure that she somehow got the education she wanted.

Abu had only recently been told of the consult that took girls and made them into high class women. He didn’t know the full details, but he had heard they gave you money for bringing young girls, and when they returned 5 – 10 years later, they’d be high class women who wore modern clothes, and spoke good English. He had been put into contact with one lady there, and arranged to send Alima there. The person who told him had made him know that he was not allowed to let anyone know anything about it.

When the day was up, they left at dawn. Hamamat didn’t want any of the other family members interfering with her decision to give her daughter the best. Her husband was out of town, so he wasn’t the problem. The plan was to cry and pretend that Alima had run away into the city, because she’d heard so much about it.

It was a whole day’s journey. They weren’t just going to the city, they were going to the capital. They stopped in 3 different places, and rested at the sheds while waiting for the buses to arrive.  Alima didn’t know what exactly would happen, but she was happy about the prospect of going to school, and becoming a high class lady. She saw women driving in the city, and decided the next time she visited her hometown, she would be driving there.

Her uncle sent her to Aunty Nita, the lady who was to take care of her for the next few years. They met at the bus station, and she took them to a small restaurant to eat while they discussed and signed all that needed to be signed. He had lied about her age and said she was eighteen. (She had already been told not to ever mention her actual age, or they might send her back to the village.) He was given a hefty amount of money ‘for his travel.’

Nita was a nice lady. Not very beautiful in the face, but she was soft spoken and very pleasant. She was also very classy. The exact kind of person Alima wanted to be. She was in a very trendy jumpsuit, with a stylish updo, and her nails were painted a beautiful plum. She was very calm and quiet.

In the first one year, Alima and 4 other girls were taken through formal education. They were taught to read and write, and only allowed to communicate in English. She was everyone’s favourite because of how fast she learnt, and how zealous she was.  They were also gradually taught to use computers, to type properly, and to do basic receptionist work. At the end of the year, each of them was given a diploma in typing.

The next one year was for grooming. They were taught to walk, and talk, and act like ladies. Taught to sway their hips when they wanted to attract men, and to bat their eyes in sensual ways. They were taught to eat like ladies, in the most posh settings, and to drive and swim.

It wasn’t until the third year that they found out the reason their families were given money for them to be educated. By this time, they knew and loved most of their instructors, and felt indebted to them, especially due to how well their families were compensated, and how far they’d come as ladies. So there was no going back. They were taught the art of seduction in the third year.

Alima in particular was specially groomed for one client. She had seen a photo of him – tall, extremely dark handsome man in black sunglasses, wearing a T-shirt and blue shorts. He was laughing. He had a glass of wine in one hand, and was waving with the other hand. One look at him and she had butterflies in her tummy.

He was the one she imagined every time they were teaching her to do something. Twerk, pole dance… or whatever. She prepared a whole year to meet him.

She was only allowed five practice clients and those clients were really just to be sure that she was ready for that one client – Mr. 007.


Akaa & Alima II

Akaa & Alima III

Akaa & Alima IV

Akaa & Alima V

Akaa & Alima VI

Akaa & Alima VII

Akaa & Alima VIII

Perspectives X

March 2020! Just three months into the year and somehow we wish we could start it all over! We pray for much better times ahead!

I’ve got a big surprise! As I mentioned, this will be the final online part of Perspectives.

I’m happy to announce that Perspectives is getting published into a book in a few months! I’m grateful for all the support and the love and the feedback (also for all the threats and the 2am discussions – I really love you guys!) Let’s anticipate the book! Let’s share Perspectives with the world!

Aaand If you’re a little late to the party, or a little behind, you can find the other parts right here:

Perspectives IIIIII , IVV , VIVIIVIII & IX

Love,

Elise


Sometimes, God’s answers are a firmly shut door.

The funeral was very solemn. He was a well-known, well-loved man.

There was none of the usual celebrations that people were used to at funerals or wakes. The atmosphere was grave… literally.

Sarah was inconsolable. It was as if she’d finally realised what could have been.

She’d played so many scenes in her head countless times! Like that time when he took her on a boat cruise because she was stressed. She kinda gave him hell, but she had a good time! Then there was that time, when she was pregnant, he’d rub her feet every evening before she went to bed, because he knew it felt good and she liked it. There was no way she was going to land a man like him again. Especially with her attitude, and she knew it.

Oh, Bruma!

His little girls were in cute black dresses. The oldest had been very quiet. She could somehow tell what had happened, and she knew that this was tragic. The youngest was in wondrous oblivion, running between different family and church members. She was a happy soul, much like her father had been a few years ago.

Nadia wasn’t at the funeral. Sarah knew because she looked out for her.

God, Bruma was a good man, I’m so sorry!

As the senior pastor preached, Sarah thought back to that letter she had written to him before he died. Was she to blame?

“So many times we question God. Why do good people die? Why does such a great man of God have to die so soon?”

“What becomes of his family? Did God not think about that before taking him away?”

I didn’t love him as much as I should, but God, Bruma deserved a good end to life!

“There’s never an appropriate answer to these things. One day in Heaven, there are so many questions God will answer for us. Sometimes we say this person or that person deserved a happy ending. Brothers and Sisters, Pastor Bruma’s good ending is in the bosom of the Lord! This world of rot isn’t where our happy ending is. This world of disease and death, stress and fear… This world isn’t great!”

It was a good thing that Bruma’s brothers were not stressful people. The extended family had started some drama, but it was to be expected. They knew Bruma had some wealth, and they knew there was no way they could have it all. Sarah wasn’t going to let them.

She thought about Nadia. Where was she? Why didn’t she show up? It was pretty obvious she was in love with Bruma, and Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they did have a thing before he died.

It didn’t matter now. He was gone. She had disappeared too.

Sarah was jostled out of her sleep by Nadia opening the door. The door had this squeaky sound it made.

It had been 4 weeks. Maybe this dream was the indicator.

The doctors had discussed it with her so often. His brothers had visited, and had also been talked to. Initially it was a very vehement No.

With time, it was looking as if there was little that could be done anymore.

He was taken of the vent a week ago, and he was somehow breathing spontaneously. He didn’t have the abnormal heart rhythms anymore. But he was still not conscious.

Bruma was gone. Sarah sighed.

It was time to pull the plugs.


Dear Adeola,

Your letter was quite interesting to read.

I think about you too. More than I’ve thought about any man before in my adult life. And trust me, there have been an insane number of men who have assumed I should think of them.

Unfortunately, I wish the letter was enough to let me let down my guard and run back into your arms… I do miss you, but I don’t know if this is it.

Regarding your wife/ex-wife/soon-to-be-ex-wife… I’m sorry about your loss. But hey, don’t you think it’s so unfair of you to decide to hold her back because you’re not ready to move on?

It’s interesting how some men will always try to find a way to control women. I’m glad I ‘brought you to your senses’ and glad that you’re finally signing your papers and getting your divorce. Good on you!

Unfortunately this makes me wonder what lengths you’d go to, to keep me from doing something if it didn’t agree with you.

You take me back to my twenties, when I still had butterflies in my tummy for a man, when I lived and dreamed that fairy tale life. It’s a beautiful thing. It feels good to know that my ‘heart of stone’ can actually fall in love again. And I’m grateful to you for showing me this!

But apart from the fact that I barely know you, I’m gradually getting the feeling that you don’t take it too well when things don’t go your way. Things will not always go your way Adeola, and that’s not always a bad thing. You move on, and you make it work.

I wish this was the reply you anticipated. I wish I could say that knowing the full story makes it easier for me to run back to you. I’ve come to care a lot about you, and this isn’t an easy decision.

I’m happy to remain friends with you, to figure out if ever I can stop being sceptical about you.

Thank you for sharing the truth with me however. Somehow, it puts things into perspective for me. On a lighter note, it looks like I can check ‘falling in love with a married man’ off my bucket list!

I’m happy to hang out and meet once in a while, but please don’t expect too much.

Best,

Yaa.


They had somehow fallen into some sort of unwritten, unspoken routine. Sarah did the day shifts, usually heading home at around 6pm, to return at 6am. Nadia did the evenings and nights. It had been a week, and there was little to no sign of improvement. There was one time when Nadia thought she saw him move. She rushed out to call the nurse in the corridor, only to come back to a completely still Bruma.

“It must have been a figment of your imagination Ma’am. There’s nothing to show any activity. I know you want this badly, and sometimes it can make you see these things.”

Sarah hadn’t said anything about the letter yet. There was no use. First of all, because there was no telling if he would even come back to life, secondly, she didn’t enjoy drama. But mostly because she felt indebted to this woman. All she knew about her was that her name was Nadia, and she was from the United States. Whatever affair she had with Bruma, it was unlikely they were physically intimate, he hadn’t been to the US in so long. And when he did, he was in the company of church people. Unless of course she had been the one to come to Ghana, she didn’t see how an affair was possible.

You’ve pushed a man that cared so much about you to an early grave!


Wendy had discussed Adeola with Yaa after the letter. Somehow it looked as if she was looking for excuses to not be vulnerable – and she’d told her this. Even though she didn’t think she was going to be with any man anytime soon, (or if ever), she knew that Yaa was in love. It was obvious. Yet she didn’t seem to want to be put into that vulnerable situation anymore. “That’s the thing with you ‘boss-chicks’, Yaa! You don’t want to be helpless in any situation.” She laughed.

They were walking the baby around Yaa’s neighbourhood. He was such a bright eyed baby boy, turning his head to look out of his pram at everything they passed.

“Give him a chance! At least now you know he’s gotten that divorce.”

“Madam, I thought you had sworn off men a few months ago, look at you asking me to run after a man!”

This was the friendship they both needed. The kind of friendship every woman needs. No judgement, no fear, just true, profound companionship.


The minute she woke up, everything from the day before started flooding her mind. She could almost see it all again. She felt blank for a short while – almost as if she was watching it play in a movie, something unreal. And when that lifted, that’s when she felt pure heartbreak. For over an hour, she cried hard. For all she’d given, all the sacrifices she’d made, all that she’d almost given up, and most importantly for what she was about to do.

At noon, she knew she had to check out. She also had to eat something. She ordered a sandwich in their restaurant, and picked it up on her way out.

She made straight for her parents’ house, knowing that her dad would be home and would have questions. She didn’t know if she was ready to talk. All she needed was to work. To get her mind off all of this.

“OJ… This is Dr. Akyia.”

“I know I haven’t called you in ages! I’ve been out of town for a while, and I’m only back for a short bit.”

“I can’t say I’m well.”

“I need your help with something. I need an expedited divorce!”

“I caught him in bed with another man.”

She almost broke into tears saying those words. It still felt unreal.

“Yes, Monday morning should be fine. Thank you OJ. I appreciate this.”


Andrea woke up in OJ’s arms a very content woman. He was still fast asleep when she woke up. He didn’t snore much, but he had this heavy breathing that for some funny reason was endearing to her. And she felt his breath tickling her neck.

She didn’t want to move much and wake him.

The music was still playing, but it was more hush now.

They’d spent most of the night drinking and dancing in his living room. He was such a good dancer. And he was goofy. They did rap battles to really old songs from when they were kids, and then they slow danced to Luther Vandross and Backstreet Boys songs. The night ended beautifully – drunk sex!

How had she missed out on these little things in her marriage? Or was it the marriage tag that took them away? She and Gyedu had never had anything remotely close to this – not even when they were dating.

Yet she hoped he had no plans of asking her to marry him anytime soon. She wasn’t ready… and she didn’t want any of this disappearing into thin air. This is the happiest she had been in so long!

It was probably close to noon, but they hadn’t really made any plans. They’d promised to pick the boys from her mother’s place to see an animation at the cinema later in the evening. Speaking of her mother, she knew that she had many questions to answer soon. She had seen that look on her face, and she knew she had to start preparing her answers.

He stirred behind her, and held her closer, nibbling on her ear. “You dance so well even in bed!” He grazed his fingers lightly on her arms, giving her goosebumps.

It felt good. She turned around to kiss him. Morning breath or not, they started making out, and she could already tell what they’d be doing all afternoon.

They were interrupted by a phone call.

He wasn’t going to pick up, but she shoved him towards the phone.

“Oh hi, Dr. Akyiaa,”

“Haha yes, it’s been really long! How are you doing?”

“Wait, what? Why? What happened?”

“Oh wow! I can clear up some things from my Monday morning. Is that fine with you?”

He hung up, with a faraway look on his face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“You can’t tell anyone this! My friend caught her husband in bed with another man! She wants a divorce.”

Andrea was suddenly nauseous.


Nadia was doing some work on her MacBook. There was a lot that needed to be done in person, and they wanted to know if she was coming back anytime soon. Of course she couldn’t be too sure. It had been a month already. He was off the vent and breathing by himself now, so that was definitely some progress. The doctors didn’t seem too enthusiastic though, but she knew he would come to. He had to!

That’s when she heard Bruma sigh.

She thought she’d imagined it. Probably like that first time when she thought she’d seen him move.

But it happened again, and his eyes started to flutter.

Nadia sat still for a minute. Her heart was thumping!

She needed to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. She shut the laptop, and placed it on the floor.

Bruma opened his eyes. He looked into her eyes, and she didn’t know what to do. What if she moved, and all this turned out to be some illusion?

He coughed a bit.

It was real. He wasn’t dead. He was moving. His eyes were open, he was alive!

“Dry.” He whispered, pointing to his neck area.

“Water.”

Nadia was on her feet, but she couldn’t move. She was dumbstruck… totally dumbfounded.

He shut his eyes again for a minute, and she moved closer to his bed. Maybe she really was hallucinating. He opened his eyes and tried to reach out to her with his hands. It was a weak effort. She went straight to him now, in tears.

He noticed the tears and tried to touch her face. She crouched by his bed, her face close to his, grateful, and joyful, with so many emotions bubbling in her heart.

She heard the footsteps, but it was as if she had been glued to his side.

He was alive!

“I don’t know if you understand, Doc. I had a very vivid dream of what his funeral would be like. Maybe it was a sign.”

“It has been a little too long, and chances of full recovery are very slim. But I believe we can give it another week?”

“I think it’s time to end all this. Let’s pull his plugs, Doc.” Sarah said as she walked through the door.

She gasped and dropped her handbag, almost losing her footing…

Bruma smiled at her. Nadia gasped.


I hope you’re looking forward to the book the same way I am! I’ll send updates and progress reports when I can. In the meantime, let’s share this with everyone! Leave a comment, ask a question, tell me what you think, and tell someone about Perspectives!

PS. Let’s get ready for another online roller coaster soon!

Perspectives IX

Happy February Guys!! It’s the month of Love, and I wish everyone as much love as possible in the rest of the year! The Penultimate part of Perspectives is here! And as always, please keep the feedback coming!

Also Perspectives is likely to be published into a book sometime soon…. Hands up if you’d be interested in a copy lol!

Aaand If you’re behind, you can find the other parts right here: Perspectives IIIIII , IVV , VI  VII & VIII

Hugs,

Elise


Sometimes, God is quiet.

God, you can’t let Bruma die. I don’t know what I’d do. I’m distraught. And I’m scared. And I don’t even know if going is the right thing to do, but I’m going anyway.

The only available flights out were first class tickets on a South African Airline flight, which required that they fly out to Dulles, transit for an hour, and then fly ten hours directly to Ghana.  She didn’t mind the outrageous cost. She was numb and tired… and terrified. Mackenzie was a bit fussy initially. But he seemed to realise his mother was not quite in the mood for his fuss.

It was a very long 10 hours.

She imagined the worst – and the best. Sleep evaded her all ten hours. She wanted to hurl at a point, and she knew she couldn’t blame the crappy plane food or air sickness.

Dear Bruma

If you never get to see this letter, I’ll be the most miserable woman alive. I’ve lost love once in the past. I can’t lose you a second time Bruma. Doesn’t matter that we don’t get to be together, it matters that at least I get to see you, or talk to you. It matters that you’re alive, and that I have my friend of so many years with me.

It hurt me that you would even wonder if it would make any difference to me if you died. It would make a world of difference Bruma. You matter. And you don’t only matter to me.

So many nights, I create this mini family in my head, where you’re the father, I’m the mother, Mack has an adorable baby sister, and we’re one happy family. I day dream about the loving man you are….and how I know for sure I wouldn’t have to bother myself wondering if you loved me.

I haven’t particularly come back running into your arms the way I wish I could because… well life… Considering the circumstances, with Sarah, the church, and all that society does and says, I didn’t want to be the reason why your family would break apart. And even if I wasn’t the reason, the church would never understand that – people in general, would never understand.

My mind is dashing everywhere… all the things I left unsaid, all the things I wanted to say about Sarah’s treatment of you… all the support I wish I’d given you, how I wish I’d had the courage back then to stand up to your mother. And how I feel like maybe if you’d had just a little courage in standing up to her I’d have taken the cue.

I can’t believe you tried to do this. I can’t imagine how bad the hurt must have been. I wish I could have seen through your pain and your efforts. I wish I could have done more. I really really hope you live, Bruma.  

I love you so much!  I never stopped. I never will. And this 10 hour flight is too much time, I don’t know what I’d do if you died. Please Bruma, choose life.

I know how broken you were, and I was so proud of your efforts – therapy, prayer, actually speaking about it (on the few occasions that you did). Being broken doesn’t make you any less of a man, Bruma. Accepting it and working on it is the bravest thing to do, and you did it. You did it! The world can be a terrible place… and of all the cruelty we’ve ever had to deal with, I hope your death will not be one. Not now.

I love you. Please come back to.

Please Bruma

Nady.


Sometimes, God probably just laughs at us from above.

Bruma was in a coma. Sarah didn’t understand how it had happened or how the other woman had known. Bruma was all sorts of things she didn’t want, but he definitely wasn’t a cheater.

She was frantic, pacing in the hospital half the time. Was she the reason he had committed suicide?

The doctor couldn’t tell if he would come out of the coma or not. There was no indication of how much of the drugs he had taken, but if it was enough to get him straight into a comatose state, then it was definitely a lot. She wasn’t paying much attention to what the doctor said she didn’t know what to feel.

This was a man she didn’t quite love, but he had been good to her. So good to her! Very few men were like him. And although he annoyed her and often made her want to leave, death wasn’t what she wished for him. She didn’t know what she’d do. And the girls definitely didn’t love her the way they loved him.

God, I will try to be a better wife if you wake him up, I promise!

He was still not up the next morning. She had wanted to go home to shower and come back, but there was no difference, and it felt so odd seeing him lifeless. She had informed the other pastors and the presbytery to pray. And she’d asked that none of them visit, because really there was nothing to see. Their prayers were enough.

She couldn’t get the nagging feeling about the other woman out of her mind though. Was Bruma actually sleeping with her?

She convinced herself that he was – she could barely remember the last time they were intimate. And much as that was her fault, he had stopped initiating completely. They also hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long. The longest form of communication they’d had recently were through those letters they wrote each other. She felt her heart beat faster when she remembered the last one she wrote to him. He was not her choice – true…. But maybe she shouldn’t have been so cold about it.

“Bruma please wake up… I’m so sorry!”


There are things nobody prepares you for. Usually, a cheating spouse is one of them. And for some reason, it hurt more that he was not cheating with a person of her sex.

He was sleeping with a man.

Akyia was really seeing stars. Before she managed to get to the car in her confused state, she had thrown up all over the lawn. She didn’t understand what was going on. It was as if her brain had decided it didn’t want to carry on.

Was this new? Had she pushed him to do this? Is this something she could ever forget? He’d had his member in her so many times… and now it was in a random man’s ass! She knew that man… she was trying so hard to remember exactly where it was from. She didn’t think it was the hospital. Because then she’d have known him. Or was he a new friend?

“God why?!” She shouted out as she drove. She didn’t want to drive to her parents’. Didn’t want to answer any questions – at least not yet.

Her husband was suddenly a homosexual…

Was it sudden? Or was he just curious? How long had this been going on for?

Maybe she was hallucinating? To think she’d almost given up her lifelong dream to save this sham of a marriage they had!

The tears were blinding her and she knew she shouldn’t be driving in that state.

She parked on the sidewalk for a minute to think.

The tears weren’t going to stop, and she was giving herself a headache. She hadn’t even rested after her flight!

She drove to the nearest sensible looking hotel, and checked in for the night. She didn’t even know who she could talk to about this. At this point, she didn’t even want to talk. All she wanted was to pass out for a few days. Her head was pounding so hard by the time she got to her hotel room. She hadn’t eaten all day but that wasn’t her primary concern. She grabbed the beer in the hotel fridge, and downed 4 Advils. She lay on the bed wondering what she’d do.

“God I’m so happy there are no kids in this marriage…”


The queue at immigration was outrageous. She was glad someone pointed out that she could skip it because of Mackenzie. She scaled as quickly as she could, and was glad she hadn’t checked in a suitcase. Manoeuvring both of their hand luggage and a sleeping boy was difficult. She ordered an Uber before getting them outside.

Luckily her driver arrived just in time. She rushed him to her mother’s house, to drop Mackenzie. She called Sarah and asked for the hospital. She seemed hesitant initially, but told her anyway. It was about thirty minutes away. She changed the location and went back with the same Uber.


One look at her pained face and Sarah knew that she was in love with him. A woman always knows. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Because if not for this woman, she may not even have realised Bruma had taken anything. She would have assumed he had fallen asleep. And this morning they’d probably be at a morgue and not the hospital.

You’re probably headed to a morgue soon anyway.

They were both silent. Both of them just looking at the lifeless body. Nadia asked if Sarah wanted to take a break to freshen up.

She wanted to. But she didn’t want to give this one the satisfaction of being the one there when he woke up. If he woke up.

As time passed, the chances of his waking up became smaller and smaller. The doctor said his heart was the main issue now. Whatever he had taken had not only put him into a coma, it had also caused his heart to start functioning abnormally.

She eventually went home around 10PM.

Nadia watched him through the night. She held his hand through the night, speaking words to him. She took out her tear stained letter and read it to him. She prayed with him. She tried to pretend he was only taking a nap. She tried not to panic when her heart could tell he was slipping away.

There was no change in the morning when Sarah returned.


Yaa was meeting with Andrea and Wendy together for breakfast. The plan was to have a mini bible study, discuss a few things…. really just some girl chat. It felt nice hanging out with both of them. They’d only done it once, and already it felt like a thing she was ready to add to her weekly routine. Not only was it fun, it was helping her get over Adeola.

“I listened to a sermon by T.D Jakes…. can’t remember when it was, and it got me thinking about church…. about our church. He talked about how the pressure of fitting into a religious environment can tempt you into hypocrisy. We become more concerned about being accepted by the people we worship with, than we are about being used or accepted by God.”

“Back when Gyedu and I were having issues…. I asked that we go and see a church counsellor…. he told me he didn’t want anyone in the church thinking he was not in charge of our affairs – when clearly he wasn’t. It hurt me that he cared more of what others would think than he did about our failing marriage. He didn’t want people hearing about the divorce, he didn’t want people hearing anything remotely not normal about him. And I think that sickened me.”

Yaa completely understood her. Hypocrisy was stinking in the church. And it wasn’t something that was going to go away quick. She had days when she had to quickly correct some passing thought she’d had about someone, because obviously, she had no idea what she’d do in their shoes.

“Same thing as when I got pregnant. I expected some compassion I think. Even if it wasn’t from my friends, maybe from the presbytery? The pastors? Their wives? Heck I’m not the first to get pregnant out of wedlock, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. And sorry as I was, the church made me defiant. My main crime was getting caught to be honest. Because half of the churches population are shagging each other, and because they’re not ‘caught’, they get to look their noses down and tell me trash….”

Yaa knew she had to get in control of the emotions here.

“But hey ladies…. we were not called to a perfect church! We are the church, and just as imperfect as we are, everyone else can be. True, the self-righteousness and hypocrisy really should go… But whatever it is, Christ wants us! Wants our help in making His body whole!”

She hated the fact that it sounded as if she was preaching.

“I’m not righteous. At least not by my efforts I’m not. And I don’t hold anyone to the standard of Christ. Not even the leaders. Christ was the only one who was tempted in every way yet without sin. We’re not. Ours is to love, and do our best with the help of the Holy Spirit. And fellowship with other imperfect people to help build the church!”

She said the last statement with an obvious smile. They both knew what she was driving at.

Yaa said a silent prayer in her heart for their lives, and their churches, and this lovely newfound fellowship they were enjoying. She felt so much peace. Of course she prayed for help to get rid of Adeola from her heart.

Their breakfast ended up turning into a full blown lunch, with great mimosas. Andrea apparently knew one of the bartenders at that restaurant, so they managed to have them unlimited.

Yaa knew she was a lightweight – and an overly sentimental drunk. In Uni, she had been the first to get drunk after a shot. She would slow dance herself to loud Celine Dion songs, and cause her flat mate to go to sleep with ear plugs – there were probably just about 3 such occurrences. 

She had planned to spend the rest of the day at the beach, listening to music and reading a novel. Now, she knew she was going to go home and fall asleep singing Backstreet Boys. Wendy gave her a letter just when she was headed home.


Dear Yaa,

I really hope you decide to read this letter. Wendy told me she couldn’t help me meet you, but begrudgingly agreed to hand you this letter.

I’m so sorry Yaa. I don’t know why I never told you about this… her…the marriage.

I never took off my ring because I didn’t want a bunch of women assuming I was an eligible bachelor. I was so hurt by Fatima and her family.

You made me forget totally that I even had it on!

Fati and I got married despite the long talk from our families about incompatible tribes. She was an educated woman, from Chibok and all that ‘Hausas only marry Hausas’ was really not our cup of tea. She wasn’t really a staunch Muslim, and that worked for me, cos she was happy to join me to go to church services.

Her parents were also semi – educated, and I guess that made it a bit easier?

We had no issues for the first two or so year – actually, we had a very beautiful marriage in those years. We did not let the negativity of others faze us, and we had a united front. A few months into our third year, we started having petty quarrels… all boiling down to the fact that we had tried everything we could, and we still couldn’t have kids. Her parents were suddenly against the marriage like the rest of her family was, and were on a hunt for another man for her.

What hurt me, was the fact that she wasn’t vehemently against the idea. It made me so mad.

I noticed she was very calm about our issues. Never wanting to fix anything, quietly listen to me rant, not saying anything that bothered her… all of that.

My decision to not sign the papers for so long, was my silly way of punishing her, of rubbing it in her face that I still had some control – that she couldn’t go ahead to marry him until I’d signed the papers.

‘Him’ was another Hausa doctor that her parents had found somewhere, who was apparently going to bring an end to the infertility I had brought to their families.

It had nothing to do with me remaining in love with her or anything remotely close.

You’re a special woman. A few weeks of being friends and you have me wrapped around my finger – you have me ready to allow Fati to move on.

I have tried to get you out of my mind, because at some point, I felt like an idiot stalker. Please agree to lunch with me – breakfast even.

I’m really sorry about this whole misunderstanding.

I’ve signed the papers, Yaa. I’m a single man.

Regards,

Adeola.

Yaa looked at the letter half drunk, and smiled, humming to herself.

“Sometimes I wish I could, turn back time, impossible as it may seem, but I wish I could, so bad, Baby… Quit playing games with my heart”

************************

Nadia went to freshen up for a few hours. Her mind was too clogged.

She held a sleeping Mackenzie in her arms, and cried quietly. She didn’t want to wake him up.

Lord, please don’t let Bruma die. I can’t lose him twice.

***************************

Sarah saw the letter on the fridge top. It was semi crumpled, and had tear stains. It seemed to have been written in pencil, so some of the words were not legible.

Her heart beat faster and faster as she read the letter. Bruma was actually cheating?

She could only see snippets of the letter.

“Considering the circumstances, with Sarah… … …  I didn’t want to be the reason why your family would break apart. ……… the church would never understand that – people in general, would never understand.”

“….. Mack has an adorable baby sister, and we’re one happy family. ….. about the loving man you are….and how I know for sure I wouldn’t have to bother myself wondering if you loved me. “

….. “I love you… please come back to me”

Sarah was stunned! Her husband was cheating!

Perspectives V

Dear everyone…..Perspectives is back!!💃🏽🍾🎊

If you haven’t had a chance to read any of the previous parts of ‘Perspectives’, you’ll find them here: Perspectives I, II, III & IV

Thank you for all the support, 🙏🏽 the ‘patient’ waiting , 🤦🏾‍♀️ the grumbling, the threats and warnings, 😂etc. I’m happy to be back, and to be ending perspectives soon!! 🎊

Hugs, Elise❤️


Dear Sarah,

Remember the day I asked you to marry me? I don’t remember it in full detail. I remember that it was tough. I remember that we had no emotions between us. I remember knowing right from that day that this wasn’t right for both of us. I knew you knew as well. But I guess we did what we needed to do? You we’re destined to be a pastors wife, and I was determined to do something right by my family. Ours has been such an odd relationship. Functional, but odd.

You know this thing we keep telling our counselees? About foundations? ‘The depth of a foundation matters just as much as what it’s built with.’

It keeps ringing in my head….

The Bible verse that says build with good material, because your works will be tested with fire?

I know we’ve been building with good material….

I know that we’ve both tried. But I know also that our foundation was shallow. I know our foundation isn’t something we can fix. Because God knows I tried. I tried dates, I tried books, I tried conversation, and none of them seem to bring us closer together. We’re basically bonded together, only because of the kids.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed that the past few years have been harder for me than ever. I don’t know if you noticed the meds, or noticed my early morning/ mid-evening hospital visits…

I don’t expect that you noticed, because I tried really hard to hide it. How would people react to a depressed pastor? How many would even believe it? How many people would understand that I preached hope and love and faith, and yet I had suicidal thoughts on some days? How many would ask me to pray it away? How many of them would go about gossiping about the pastor that says he knows God and yet wants to kill himself. How many would understand? Would you understand? Would you, Sarah.

The past few months, I’ve had a lot to think about. I’ve questioned God, and I’ve told him my heart. I’ve asked him for a way out, a way to not feel so trapped. I’ve begged him on my knees and I’ve begged him in our bed. I’ve fasted, and I still can’t seem to figure anything out. I don’t know what to do. So this letter is to ask you. Sarah. Are you happy? Are you happy carrying on with this sham we’ve done so well with for so long, or is there something you want? Do you want us to see a professional? Do you want us to work on our foundation? Is there anything you want besides being ‘osofomaame’? Do you want me? As a person? Or is it just the title that you want? I’m making changes this year, Sarah, and I’m done being quiet about the things that hurt me. I’m questioning things, and I’m willing to change what isn’t working. I owe it to myself to be happy, as long as it remains in the will of God.

There are so many times when I see you chatting with a friend, and I wonder if you’ll ever get to a point where you can have a normal chat with me as a husband… not about the children and not as your pastor.

I want to be able to laugh with you about those funny hats Abrefi wears to church, but I can’t, because you will consider it slander. I want to be able to wake you up at 3am, just because I had a silly dream and I’ll probably forget it if I go back to bed without telling you. I want to be able to come round the kitchen and stress you, while helping you make my kontomire stew. But I can’t.

Sarah before anything else that I am – pastor, father, counsellor etc., I am your husband. You’re the one person I should be happy to see and talk to everyday. I used to be a very happy, carefree man. I don’t think God wanted me to be unhappy. And I know for a fact he doesn’t want you to be unhappy either.

Marrying you was a thing that was supposed to make me right in my family. I wanted my parents to know that I’d done one good thing. Now I wonder if my mother looks down from heaven to see if I’m happy.

When Mama died, I was devastated. I knew you were sad too. But it never once even crossed my mind that I could talk to you about how I felt. I wanted to be held. I wanted to cry – to wail. I wanted to tell someone that I wish mama had met our last baby. I wanted to scream to the world that the one person I wanted to impress the most in life was gone.

Instead, all my grief was bottled up in me, Sarah. I had to be strong, you said. I had to man up. I had to amidst the tedious task of planning a funeral and dealing with family members, hold my heavy grief so deep in my heart that it couldn’t show. On the day of the funeral, I felt things I’d never felt before. I considered taking my life.

I’m not saying that any of this is your fault. I’m just as much to blame. I’m just letting you know that I really wish it had all been different. I wish I could be your husband sometimes and not have to always be your pastor.

You know that I’ve never really figured sex out with you? It’s been close to 9 years, and I don’t know how… I don’t even know what I don’t know. I just know that it feels as if you never want me. And when because of that I decide to let you be, you come rushing at me with your passive aggressive words, asking if I no longer find you desirable. I don’t know if I can ever figure it out with you, but I’m willing to try – only if you are.

I want us to consider counselling, Sarah. I mentioned earlier that I started therapy after the suicidal thoughts I started having. It took a while, of course, but now I can wake up in the morning and not feel that dark cloud there all the time. I can speak without the tightening in my chest that kept happening. I can laugh genuinely again, Sarah. And I want us to be able to be happy. We owe it to ourselves, and then, to the kids.

I care about you, Sarah. You’ve been an amazing mother to our kids, and an amazing Osofomaame. One day soon, please be my amazing wife.

Brumah.


The finality of it all shocked her.

They were finally over? The twins were with her, but he’d promised to continue to provide for them. He’d signed to that effect. And he hadn’t really made a fuss.

There are days when she kept thinking maybe he had a mistress somewhere? But she didn’t want to think that way. She wanted to think that he was just not very sexually attracted to her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe that meant that he could find someone out there that he was really attracted to, and who would be fine with his bedroom shenanigans, or the lack of them.

She’d expected the divorce to feel exhilarating. She expected that she’d be extremely happy. On the contrary, she felt raw fear. Had she done the right thing? Would the kids understand when they were older? Would she ever find someone else? Did she want to find someone else… she knew she did.

She looked at the one day old message from Akua.

“When are you ready to get back to the dating scene? I have a friend you should meet!”

Was she ready to flirt and date and do all those things she really hadn’t done so much of? Had she just thrown away her marriage for things like these?

But then again what was her marriage? She was unhappy for years. Unhappy and tired. She grabbed the bottle of gin, not bothering to use a glass.

Finally, she replied the message.

“I’m ready…. I guess?” He better be sensible, she thought.  I’m not ready for games. And the kids are certainly not ready for games either. Lol.


The whole flight, Akyiaa kept wondering if maybe she had made the wrong decision. She’d tried. She really had. But if the man she loved was not in favour of her pursuing her dreams, then was that really love? She’d tried to stay back, to decide that she could hold off and stay. But she’d started resenting him, and she knew that if she didn’t figure it out, she could probably become capable of murder at a point. His smugness about being the head of the family and having the last word made it so much worse. She couldn’t stomach it anymore. Good thing she hadn’t emailed to say she couldn’t make it. She’d bought the ticket two weeks earlier, waiting for a good time to tell him. But there was never a good time. The evening she left, she left him a letter. A very long letter. She passed by her parents’ house, and her dad drove her to the airport. They had no idea that he didn’t know. They had no idea that she’d neglected to tell him. “I’m really glad Papa came to his senses.” Her father had said. She only smiled and said nothing. She knew he was likely at the hospital, or with the guys. And that he’d be very upset. But she had to do this for herself. There was no way she could live with herself twenty years down the line, thinking of what could have been. She knew she had tried to live with it. She’d tried to not hate him for not wanting her to go. But she had failed. And ultimately, she knew she would fail at the marriage in the long run if she did nothing about it. She had to do something.


When the baby was put in her laps, it was almost as if her whole life had been brought to a standstill. She could barely pay attention to the people around her. She was exhausted. And completely and utterly dumbfounded. His dark, tiny fingers, his awfully tiny nose, and the way his lips curled when he yawned or stretched or whatever it is he was doing.

The pain she’d been in the past 8 hours had been completely forgotten. And she finally understood how people could have so many kids. The joy that followed the birth of one was intoxicating. As she put him to her breast, and felt his first tug, she shut her eyes, only now realising that she had been crying.

When Yaa met with the doctor concerning Wendy, he assumed straightaway that she was the mother. He discussed everything with her, and answered all her questions. He was a constantly smiling gentleman, who looked to be in his mid-forties. He looked tired – in a chronic way. As if he’d been tired for so long, and his rest wasn’t taking care of the tiredness.

When she asked if there was a protocol for adoption, he realised she wasn’t the mother. Yaa explained the whole situation, and he seemed happy to help even though he didn’t seem to know exactly how.

Yaa didn’t know why she went to look at his ring finger, and why she was disappointed when she noticed the wedding band. She chided herself and went back to paying attention to the man’s words.

They made a plan to meet together with the social welfare team, and Yaa left, wondering what kind of a family man he was, and how lovely he must look in shorts. She scolded herself countlessly, but she couldn’t stop wondering.


Nadia and Brumah continued to keep conversation. Not daily – they’d told themselves they couldn’t do that. They emailed weekly. So she knew about the letter Brumah had written to Sarah, and how for weeks he still hadn’t gotten a reply, or any change. She knew that Brumah’s therapy was better now than ever, and they’d started cutting back on his medications. She knew that he had work that was going to take him to some villages for a while. She knew that his daughter had just had her first tooth come out, and she was super excited.

He also knew that Mackenzie was increasingly getting more involved in the swim team, and it made him happy. He knew that she had gotten a good advertisement deal that could land her a large amount of money. He knew that she had plans of coming home to visit her mother with Mackenzie, but he didn’t want to get over excited. He didn’t even know if they would get to see each other. He wanted Nadia, but he also wanted to honour his marriage.

He knew though, that his days were a lot happier, because he felt heard. He felt needed. He felt wanted. And that feeling beat many other feelings he’d had in the past couple of years. He could pray without feeling any guilt about not keeping Sarah in the loop. Because he’d literally poured out his whole heart to her. Well almost all of it. And it didn’t seem to make any difference for her.

Recently he had a hard time though preaching at church on some occasions.

In one of his last sermons, he spoke about Destiny and the will of God.

How too many people put their destinies in the hands of mere men, mere mortals. How God had a path for everyone, and yet not everyone wanted to follow in that direction. And how God never forced humans. How he gave us all free will.

He remembered the tears in the beautiful red haired doctor’s eyes when the sermon was over. He remembered wondering to himself if he’d taken his own destiny into his hands by marrying Sarah. Later in the week when he emailed Nadia, he asked her if she thought he did. But her reply hadn’t come yet.

Nadia didn’t know what to think about that. All she knew was that she had survived him leaving, and much as she wanted him back, she knew she couldn’t. And she was content with this new friendship they’d started – at least she prayed she’d remain content. What she didn’t know, was if he had taken his destiny into his own hands, by leaving her for Sarah.


Dear Papa…

I know you’re probably going to hate me forever for this. And I don’t know if, or when you can forgive me. But I do know that if I’d stayed, we’d both have been very miserable. I know I tried. Really tried to be the submissive wife everyone has been asking me to be. But I really don’t see myself putting this dream on hold just because your ego can’t handle it. (And if there’s another reason why you had wanted me to stay, please do tell me, because I really can’t seem to find it.)

Three week ago at church, when Pastor Brumah spoke about destiny and the will of God, I felt as though God was talking to me. And I know that God doesn’t contradict himself. I know he says to submit to the husband. I know also that he asks husbands to love their wives. I really don’t know where the love we had is, Papa. I know that this residency is something I’ve worked so hard on for so long, and something I’ve dreamt about and prayed about and longed for since forever. And you know this too. So I can’t seem to understand how come you don’t want me to go.

Unfortunately, it’s too late now.

I just want you to know that this is not me asking for us to break up or for divorce anything at all. If anything, I want to be able to prove to you that we can do this. That long distance for 3 or so years is really not going to be as bad as you think. Especially because we’ll get to see each other a couple of times each year.

I left in the freezer stews and soups that should last for at least six weeks. Hopefully before the six weeks are up, your anger may have gone down, and we can figure out food for the rest of the while that I’m away.

You don’t know what I’d give to have your support, and to have had you go on this trip with me. To help me settle, and to know that even if the situation is not the most ideal, that you’re in it with me. I wish you knew.

I’ve attached to this letter a ticket for this Christmas. I know your visa expires in about a month. But then your leave isn’t till Christmas. And I’d be really happy if you could renew the visa, so I get to see you at Christmas. If you decide not to, I understand.

But I want you to know that going away was a good thing. I started resenting you after I made the decision to stay, and I realised I couldn’t let that decision rob me of both my happiness and my marriage.

So please understand. Please understand that I really needed to do this. And please understand that I love you. And I tried so hard to stay and forget about this, I just couldn’t do it.

Love,

Akyiaa


*Osofomaame – Pastors Wife

For Not Pitying Me…

They tell you they’ll treat you like everyone else.

They tell you that your disability doesn’t really matter.

They’ll make it look as if it’s really not a problem.

But you see, it always becomes a problem. Always.

There have been all kinds of stories. From “I wish we could eat at a place without drawing so much attention to us,” to “I’m not so sure the guys will feel comfortable around you,” to “I really don’t know how I’ll introduce a one-legged woman to my father.” Even with the girls, there’s been “you know our ‘hanging out’ is usually swim-time – it would be awkward to invite you when it’s so obvious you can’t swim.” (Never mind that I actually had learnt to swim with my leg and stump!)

Of course it hurt. And it hurt more because I’d lost the leg because of something too stupid to say. It didn’t help either that I was not a quiet or subdued person. But frankly, what made it worse was the pity. They tell you they’re fine with you, but their eyes tell a different story.

With time, I’d learnt to have what I called ‘superficial fun’. I could meet up with colleagues and acquaintances and have a good time. Shallow talk, drinks, and then goodbyes. It worked well. No inner circle, just mum. No actual friends, mainly co-workers.

When I started the firm, I knew that a lot of the favours I got were because people pitied me and didn’t expect that it would amount to anything (Although I know you strongly disagree) – but look at us now!

I remember one of the university interns asking me how I could be so strong when people had almost no regard for the handicapped. She was one of the few that didn’t have that pity look. She was straightforward and genuine. One day, I hope she gets out of law school and comes here to work. Or that she builds a firm to rival mine.

She had no idea that before you, it really wasn’t much strength. It was more of a daily motion. Put one leg in front of the other each day – actual leg, then prosthetic leg, or crutch, or whatever. That, and the occasional ‘superficial fun’.

She had no idea the countless nights when I felt that my left leg was burning – even though it actually wasn’t even there. She didn’t know how much I’d cried over the stupid pitying glares that people gave me. She had no idea how much love had been lost… how many heartbreaks I’d suffered. And how I’d decided that love was not for the ‘crippled‘.

She, like many others, did not know that you were the one wake-up call that I needed.

When I met you, I was in my old wheelchair. It didn’t seem to bother you… because you stayed and talked, and drank with me, and teased me, and sort of flirted with me. I thought it was the drinks. I was pretty sure that we’d sober up the next day, and you’d remember that the girl was in a wheel chair with a stump, and decide to forget about it all – it was all too familiar!

But you called me the next day, and asked to go on a date. I told you I had a fitting for my new prosthetic leg, so I didn’t think it would be possible – thinking that that would remind you that I really was in a wheel chair.

But you asked to tag along “I’m on leave, so I’m pretty free! I could tag along and then take you out to dinner after?” – At that point, I must say that I was starting to get smitten! I had to sit in front of my mirror, and remind myself that this was all ‘superficial fun’. I could not afford to ever be heartbroken again.

Yet after that physio appointment, I knew that I wanted you. It didn’t matter in what context – brother, friend, doctor buddy, boyfriend (even though this possibility was so far-fetched to me). Whatever you were offering, I was willing to take it… I needed as many people that treated me as if I was like everyone else, as possible.

I remember the stupid smirk on your face when I asked the dude if I could go back to wearing miniskirts with the prosthesis. How you got into doctor mode, bantering with him, and not being arrogant about all the answers he gave – which you already knew.

That day, I decided that if I had just 2 people that didn’t care about my cut leg, 2 people that would treat me normally, after a day of dealing with pitying glares or hurtful comments, then I’d be okay.  I had mum already. And now there was you.

After 10 months, I got back to practicing, and there were times when I could swear that I won the cases just because the judge saw that I wore a prosthetic leg. You wrestled me out of that thinking of course – “You’re a smart young woman – helluv vibrant, irresistible, nothing about your absent leg has anything to do with your winning any case! You’re efffing brilliant – and you should even start your own firm! ”

I fell in love with you that day. Proper love, you know. It was just unexpected. You motivated me. Before you, a lot of my colleagues knew how to bring me down easily. Especially with regards to the incident, and the leg. And of course, the pity.

I remember when you got to mine, from the clinic one afternoon, and I was so upset about Le-Ann’s child abuse case. I was poring over my books and barely noticed that you were there. My leg was somewhere on the couch, and I was sprawled on the floor, in a tee and shorts.

You claim you stood there for about thirty minutes, just looking. I noticed you only when I turned to get my bottle of water, and I was startled, wondering why the hell you were standing there staring at me that way!

“I’ve been lusting after you for some time now…”

I thought I was imagining it. I mean I knew you cared about me, and respected me as a person, I liked that you hugged me often, and made me feel mushy on the insides. I knew that our relationship was special, and we would always be in each other’s lives, caring for and motivating each other. But I had no idea that you found me attractive in any way. It took me by surprise.

It took me by surprise too when you got down on the floor – lab coat, stethoscope and that weird bag in hand, and kissed me. All the raging hormones that had been banked securely for years were breaking their boundaries and pushing me over the edge🙈 . It’s why I started tearing up. I know you probably knew that. My lies about how emotional the case made me didn’t seem to appease you.

Later on, when we’d just eaten, and I was going over the case with you, and planning out my arguments, you did it again. Out of nowhere. “I want to marry you, Diane, and make many little Dianes with you.”

I remember also when I came by the clinic one evening to bring you food, just because. How one of nurses asked me if I was sure I was in the right place. I remember how mad you were when you finally came out. I remember them loud-gossiping about ‘the boss’s girlfriend’, how I must have used some sort of ‘juju’ to get you, because how would such a good doctor – tall dark and handsome, settle for a ‘cripple’. That word! It was the first time I saw you irate!

I’m getting too emotional over this letter…😫 The point, is just to say, thank you… For not pitying me. For loving me. For showing me that being ‘handicapped’ in anyway, is not the end of life. That life can be amazing regardless. Thank you for dancing with the one-legged girl… For 3 years of seeing me as whole, when I had doubts. For dealing with my issues – phantom limb and the low-key low self esteem being the worst of them. Thank you for all the fights we’ve had – it’s refreshing to know that you don’t let me win them just because… (Oh and thank you for all the make- up sex we’ve had to have🙈🙈. The most recent of which may have led to a thing…😂🤣😂🤣😬😉)

We’re expecting.

I have a feeling that you already know, and you’re just waiting till I say it. I hope it’s a boy. And I hope he becomes just like his father… (just without the leaving of soapsuds in the bathroom part😋).

Thank you for everything. But especially, for not pitying me!

Diane.

juju – evil spirit, fetish or black magic.

Six Years Late III

Thanks for getting to the end of ‘Six Years Late’, guys! I know for many people this might not seem like the happy ending. But hey… 😀 Please leave a comment, tell me what you think, and do share it with anyone who might be interested.

In case you missed the other parts, you can find the first part here: Six Years Late, and the second, here: Six Years Late II .

Hugs!

Elise


I was sitting in Ebo’s couch, drinking a glass of sparkling red wine. It was one of the finest bottles of Lambrusco there ever was– one of my favouring bottles – La Battagliola… Though sweet, it had that spicy, bitter bite right after.

He was one of the few people I knew that enjoyed it as well. The girls usually preferred white wine… and even when they had red wine, Lambrusco was not an option. It was the kind of wine you could get through, without even realising! It could also get you drunk without any ‘tipsy prelude’.

 He had that E.L.’s song playing over and over “Mi sweety jole, my one and only my shorty…”

Kweinuaa, Sakyi and Annie had fallen asleep a short while before I showed up. Apparently they’d been running round the house, playing tag, and putting him out of his mind with all the noise.

“Remember when we were kids and we’d play ‘pilolo’, and ‘zanzama’?”

I could already feel a buzz from the wine.

“I was the girl that would always knock the guys the hardest whenever we played zanzama. The other girls would take it easy, cos they wanted to be spared when it was their turn… I could not be bothered!”

Where did that happy carefree girl go to?

 “Mi naa bo po po po, Mi naa bo po po po, nk33, hef3 he ni maya, moko moko moko b3… mi naa bo po po po…”

He was looking at me… in that lazy, yet serious way that only he seemed to be able to. I’d only noticed recently that he had a small dent in his cheeks – it wasn’t a dimple, more like an indented scar. We’d spent more time together in the past 4 months than we ever had before. I’d noticed things about him I’d always overlooked. Like how his jaw did a twitching thing, when he was contemplating things, how he gritted his teeth very subtly whenever an argument came up. And how his smile, though rare, brightened up his face entirely!

Nii had quite suddenly become a common face at any function we attended. After the last time he’d showed up at the house, he’d showed up at some church programmes, and at my office on six different occasions (with flowers and/or lunch). He’d packed out of Ebo’s house, after an argument about whose side he was on, and apparently gotten himself a place at the  Trasacco Valley. I still hadn’t sorted out the way I felt about the whole situation. I was civil about him, but I was not swayed. I had a beautiful life built, and I was not going to bring back toxic memories into them.

And I was sure that I was going to have a happy ending. Maybe just not yet, and surely, not with him.

I handed him the letter…

“So I suppose you’ve come to a verdict?” He said when he saw the addressee… His jaw twitched, as he took it from my hands, sliding a tad closer to me in the couch.

Dear Nii,

I never thought I’d write a letter like this. After about 6 months of your absence, I stopped believing I’d ever see you again. But this is life. And I suppose the unexpected should always be expected.

I was very shaken when you suddenly re-appeared. I didn’t expect to be this affected by your return. I didn’t expect to be put so off-balance. And yet already, it’s been over four months!

A few weeks ago, the last time you showed up at church, I had quite a number of people asking me if I’d forgiven you, if there was going to be some sort of reunion. I didn’t know what kind of answer to give. I had not forgiven you. You see, I had buried all of the hurt inside some dead part of my heart, and slowly, without realising it, you were still chipping at my heart… year after year, taking chunks away, from inside out…

Last week, I decided that that had to end. I decided that I would forgive you. I would set myself free. I decided that my heart was too fragile to let this keep festering. I would not let it destroy me.

Now I want to be clear about something. Forgiving you has nothing to do with getting back together with you, making it work, or whatever words you’d prefer to use. Unless the Holy Spirit Himself comes down to speak to me concerning that, I honestly do not see it happening. So I want you to continue to remain as far away from me as possible. It’s been quite liberating hearing your story, honestly. I’m more liberated to go about my own life. I’m only thirty – three. And my life will count. It will count without you in it. I’m glad that I never had that delusion that these young girls keep growing up with these days, thinking that they cannot function without a man. Thinking that they need a husband to validate their lives. Much as it’s helpful, it can be done without. And for six long years, Nii, I’ve made it work.

So I’m going to return to the dating scene, my dear. And I’m going to be a very happy woman – even happier than the woman you married – if that’s possible.  I will spend drinking nights out with the girls, I will laze about my house and read books. I will drive to the beach whenever I feel up to it. I will go to church and enjoy services, and pretend I cannot see or hear all those who seem to think they can decide what I do in life. I will not spare a thought over you – as I have not done in years. I will do what’s best for my daughter and I.

Oh, and just so you know, we know exactly what heaven on earth is like. It definitely doesn’t have you in it.

Now, about my daughter. Yes, Nii, you read right – my daughter – Kweinuaa. I’d like for you to stop harbouring any intentions of ever getting close to her. Because if you ever try it, Nii… I will get a restraining order. And if you send me to court, I will fight you. I will fight till I make you go bankrupt. You know better than to let this go unheeded – I’ve done my research, and I know how to make it work. She was not your daughter when I had her. She certainly isn’t now. 

Ebo and Ofoe have been amazing fathers to her. She will be just fine.

 

He paused and looked at me with a funny simper… I downed a little more of the wine. My heart was racing, and my chest beginning was burn a little. I could tell I was somewhere on the verge of drunkenness. I’d have to consider an Uber… or Ebo could drive me home?

 

And one day, I hope that you find some other woman, who can handle you. Someone who’ll be fine with a decision to bail anytime things don’t work. I hope she makes you happier than I ever made you. I hope you have babies with her. Because my baby girl is not to be shared. She’ll always be my daughter. Not ours.

All we have left, Nii, is the memory of a beautiful marriage, a horrid separation, and now, a surprising and civil re-acquaintance. Nothing more is ever going to come out of that.

Now that you’ve made your apology and intentions known, I’d like for you to know that you’re forgiven. Only forgiven so I can be free.

I will have a happy ending, Nii. But it won’t have you in it.

Regards,

Parker.

Ebo looked at me, and smiled – fully this time. It was an intent gaze. He took a sip of his Lambrusco, and kissed my forehead.

Maybe… just maybe, this was my happy ending.

 

 

The End.

 

 


This is the link to the E.L’s song that was mentioned. I don’t know the full meaning of it, lol… I’ve just recently fallen in love with it, and I hope you like it too.

E.L – Mi Naa Bo Po (Official Music Video) – YouTube

PS. Thanks Ike for the illustration 😀

A letter to you from Jail…

Disclaimer: This letter, as is the case with most of my letters, is highly fictitious. It’s as usual, a work of my crazy and twisted imagination… (LOL)

A letter from Jail

30 – 12 – 2014

I never thought I’d get caught. Of course they promised me so much. And for a couple of years I enjoyed all of it. The money was beyond this world. I went wherever I wanted in the world – I’ve been through about four or five passports in the space of just four years!

You know all this already. But there’s a lot you don’t know.

There’s a reason why I did it….

You’ll probably call it greed.

We weren’t doing too badly, but I definitely wanted more….

I still keep wondering…. Was it worth it?

I haven’t been sentenced yet, and already, I feel like a caged bird. How will I survive for the next few years? Will my sentence be any lighter if I report the actual truth and call everyone out?

Or will I still rot in here and feel satisfied that they might rot too?

But the boss has promised me a lot of money after my term – however long that will be.….. Is it worth it?

What if he dies before then?  What if?

What if I die before I get out…. That’s a very grave possibility.

There’s so much abuse in here. The women are much larger and much more aggressive.

My life is in shambles. I can’t describe the fear that’s built up in me.

I can’t begin to describe the tears I’ve shed. I can’t tell you how much I wish you were here.

Your warnings keep coming back to haunt me. Maybe if I had listened, we’d be home today, sipping some wine and watching in the news the story of the ‘Drug Baroness from Ghana’. We’d probably be so relieved that I decided not to take up the offer.

I keep wondering…. Why did I do it?

Now that I’m here, I wish so so much that I had listened to you.

I know, I know…. Cliché…. ‘Had I known’ is the fools cry…

I’m glad we never actually decided on a wedding…. And I’m especially glad we didn’t have kids. I wonder what it would be like for any child, seeing your mum all over the news for wrong things she did. Wrong decisions she made.

I know that you’re hurt and you’re probably mad too.

I’m sorry.

So sorry.

I deserve this – but you don’t. Please move on. If you can possibly forgive me, please do. You know me well. Circumstances together with my choices have brought me here. I don’t want you to suffer for my wrong doings. So please do move on.

Even if I get a ten year sentence, which I’m told could be the minimum I’ll be getting, I don’t know for sure if I’ll come out alive. I don’t know for sure if I’ll be the same girl you’ve been in love with for the past six years.

I might be abused beyond normalcy.

I may be depressed beyond all sanity.

They never come out the same, you know…. Never.

Hardly better either.

All that I ask is that you don’t judge me…. I know there are one hundred and one stories going around. I know everybody seems to have their take. Until you hear my full story, please don’t judge me. One day, you’ll know it all. Maybe you’ll understand, maybe you won’t.

Until then,

Love.

Naayele.

08 – 01 – 15

I’m in now…. 8 years and 8 months…. I’ll make it somehow… pray for me. Please don’t condemn me too. Everyone else will, but please don’t. One day, I hope you can visit. One day soon. They say there’s a silver lining to every cloud. I’m guessing mine is that I wasn’t caught in Ghana… I might have gotten a worse sentence, and I would definitely have had a much worse experience.

And maybe I’ll get to know Christ in here…. You never really talked much about Him, especially after you realised I was never paying attention.

They took the house… and everything else, but maybe I’ll gain something in here.

Pray for me.

I’ll get over the tears soon….

I’ll get over everything soon…. At least I pray so!

I miss you, and I’m so sorry!

Naa

The Difference in Four Hours…

So I entered the land…

Kumasi!

A mere four hours away from home….

I’d heard so much about it, yet I had no idea what to think about it

I was excited! I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew that life here would be totally different!

The people seemed normal so far…

Until I tried to take a taxi!

“Boss, please I’m going to the Kejetia market. How much will you charge?”

 

“Mo de3, mosore aa, na 3y3 mo s3 obiara te brofo! Nkwasiasem!” [You think everyone can speak English here? Nonsense!]

I was astonished!

Imagine an extremely good looking young man, (myself of course) with a stupefied look on his face!

Much as I understood what he was saying, Twi wasn’t really a strong point for me, and I didn’t want to end up saying something funny.

When eventually we had gotten over our supposed language barrier, I got in and we set off.

 

Things weren’t that remarkable. There were sellers all around, much like there were in Accra, the capital. It was even a lot cleaner than Accra was.

I got to Kejetia, paid the driver, and started walking around. From my earlier experience, I knew not to go around speaking English!

“Madam, paaky3w, akok) nam no 3y3 s3n?” [Madam, how much is the chicken?]

“Aah, paakyew tiles no de3, one pound y3 10 Ghana. But n’akyi no y3 5 Ghana.” [The thighs go for Ghc10 per pound, and the other parts go for Ghc5 per pound]

Tiles??????? Hahaha….. This was going to be an interesting stay.

I ventured buying a few utensils from an old lady, and I was met with a fifteen minute lecture on how the non-stick frying pan was essential to my stay, and how the burner she sold was going to last me so long that I could take it to my marriage home! Her customer service, together with her persuasive tongue got me buying a lot more than I knew I’d ever use…. But like she said, “Wode b3k) aware3”

 

I got hungry on my way to get a cab back, and I decided to buy food from a fast food joint not far from where I stood.

“Fly rice no y3te no 4ghana, 5 ne 6. Jollof ne nso y3te no saa.”

Fly rice! I could not believe it….

In high school, we laughed at the Kumasi kids once in a while, when they made such blunders

But this…. This was hilarious!

Four years here was going to be dope!

 – @elisetirza

Goodbye my friend…

Image

 

You’ve been one hell of a friend you know….
In a few hours, you’ll be gone, and there’ll be nothing left but memories of the time we had together…
I must say quite frankly that I learnt a lot from you….

There were times when I wanted you to slow down, so we could spend some more time together, but many other times, I was truly really sick of you….

You had your way of hovering around when I wanted you gone, and flying far away when I really needed you…. 

You taught me many lessons, I must say… your crazy highs, your lows, your break-ups, and your many break downs….

The tears and the depression…
The laughter and elation…
You showed me all! 

That period of time when you taught me what real loneliness was…..
It wasn’t that I was alone, for I was constantly in the midst of many…

Yet I was alone. 

I learnt from you what it felt like to cry deep inside you, and smile, and laugh heartily on the surface, so no one knew! 

Even God felt far away….

So many times, I had to fill my days with activities… 
Meetings, Classes, Dance, Music, Foolery… You know….

That way, there wasn’t much time to think and wonder the why’s and what for’s 

Did you ever wonder if I’d give up? Or did you know I’d make it through?
I know you came to teach me… For I wouldn’t know so much if you hadn’t come along.

I’ll forever have bitter-sweet  memories of you… But I’m glad you’re leaving….

Our last days together though, were the most amazing… You managed to leave on an incredible note, and I’m very grateful…

I have this new friend…..
He seems more promising than you ever were… So I’m going to run along with him, and see how it goes….

I’m sure it’ll be great…
I’ll miss you… Of course, especially our very last days together…

So here’s to you, my new friend….
We will surely have the down times, but hey, those are only going to make us stronger!
We won’t give up…
We’ll make it! 
love, 
Nana.

PS.

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,

When funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit.

Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is weird with its twists and turns

As every one of us sometimes learns.

And many a failure turns about

When he might have won had he stuck it out:

Don’t give up though the pace seems slow –

You may succeed with another blow.

Success is failure turned inside out –

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.

And you never can tell how close you are.

It may be near when it seems so far:

So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit

It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

 

–  C. W. Longernecker