Football - A View from Ghana

The ball rasps the net and drops in little bounces till it comes to rest on the cushion of grass behind the goalpost. The striker had cradled it in his broad chest, let it drift downwards, and booted it on-the-volley, twelve inches above the turf. The winger had deftly dummied it past himself, and torn after it down the flank. It had been a speedy counterattack, and he had only needed to skirt one tired lunge before floating it into the penalty box. It had started as a goal kick. The goalkeeper had launched the ball straight down the middle of the pitch, and seen the ball travel to number 10. Number 10 had feinted this way and half-turned that way, sweeping the entire opposing midfield out of his way. Then, he had lobbed the ball over a couple of legs to his team mate on the wing.

Football is rather like real life. No, football is real life dramatised in a grassy arena. You have to play the game; throw in hard tackles; ride the tackles of others; deal with censure and yellow cards; be buoyed by the cadence-cries of the fans cheering you on; throw the ball back in, when it goes out of play; rely on your team mates (be they family, friends or workmates). And football replays all life’s real problems in ninety minutes. It figures that we hate a goalless game.

Day One at Office Retreat

Day one
At office retreat
Having fun
With slogan repeat

The Simple Life

I'm making it simple
Nothing is half as bad
As it looked last night
I had no need to worry

The Shrew

Sharp tongue
Shallow heart
Carps long
Gallows tart

DIY or DI-Costly

I haven’t applied myself to DIY in anything. It has been labour-lightening to pay workmen to fix fractures, while pursuing more mental and sensual interests. So journeymen have always had their say and way with me. I tried a new mechanic yesterday, and found, to my horror, that my existing ‘expert’ was killing Maxine (my car). Allowing for the possibility that the new man was badmouthing the old in order to acquire the Maxine retainer, I discovered that Maxine was running hairy low on all essential liquids but petrol. And Maxine was serviced only a couple of weeks ago! Further, a constant, queer quivering was the outcome of a-dime-a-dozen replacement parts purchased ‘brand new’ by Old Mechanic with my nostril-hair-tweezed savings.

I’ve suffered too much to trust wholly in them, but I still have too little time for Maxine and the other things I call my own. I keep a few books strewn in dark, un-dusted nooks at home. One of them treats automobiles. I’m going to devour it whole this weekend, and make sure that no Accra mechanic takes Maxine for a ride, with or without me in her. My verdict on the new mechanic – he solved Maxine’s strange shivering, and created another one which simply wasn’t there in the morning. A rattling sound is singing sickly songs under the bonnet even on very smooth roads. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll start reading up on DIY even before the weekend comes! When basic auto repair, carpentry and plumbing are required, I'm going to fix it by DIM. Now, that’s said, oh for the time to fulfil this one-thousandth wish!

Post-Obama Epiphany

I’m not the only one to realise this swelling response. But while some gushed and gurgled in red-and-ready waterfalls, my epiphany evolved and sauntered from Normal Life to Hibernation to Mental Ovulation. And, here I am!

The answer is direct and unvarnished at the end of the experience. I am who I am; I must be! And I must breathe down the neck of my dream(s) – the thing(s) that make me jaunty and lightsome. The dreams that will make me happiest, in proud pursuit, are the ones with which I drove dull care away as a tender child.

Itching Palm

I can hardly wait
to caress, at my gate
tonight, the moment that's played
on my mind for days, and then always delayed!