Wicked Armed Robber

It is not grinding poverty that is your wicked warrant. Your methodical mind and paramilitary planning could have banked you honest money. You are just lecherous, lazy, envious, cruel and, frankly, downright demented. If Poverty is a disease, then I curse your arse with the most virulent form!

Children of Bawaleshie

Eking an existence near Easy Street (that’s excessive East Legon), they gobble gruel of cornmeal for bare breakfast, kenkey and protein-pinched pepper dip for lunch and more cornmeal gruel for dead-man’s dinner. Fish is a fairytale feast! They know what milk means; they’ve never lapped milk.

The Prostitute

She stands scantily clad on the sunless streets of candied Cantonments or carnivorous Circle. She supplies live, natural delights for a fatuous fee. She possesses no other sustenance skills, and would have perished waiting on one or other gormless government or on nonchalant neighbours. Through her sensible skin trade, ten or so dependants can eat. Family infants are fed, clothed and schooled.

Poverty

Let’s talk about poverty, this week. My initial theme was “Poverty is a Crime”. I thought about it again, and since I could not put my finger on the ‘criminal’, I changed it to; to See Poverty, to have the ability to do something about it, but to do nothing, is a crime”. This picture was taken by Kevin Carter (poor man), who saw this and was constrained or tricked into not doing anything. The vulture was waiting for the child to die to pick at its flesh. The child was crawling to a UN food centre 1 kilometre away. It is not known if the child made it. Poverty!

(Picture: www.pulitzer.org)

Identity Symbols

There are rainbow recitals of the sundry symbols same-sexual-polarity people flaunt to recognise one another. They have hues and tones, rings in earmarked earlobes, foreknown fabric, etc. I wonder weakly – if they are ordinary people, why do they need special symbols?

Same Script, Different Cast

Jo has been obscurely ogling the delicious, dapper dandy in the pinstriped navy suit for a queer quarter hour. He’s quaffing whisky; whisky-tippling men – Jo’s great weakness. Jo doesn’t feel the faintest guilt for his lurid lust. After all, he’s just having sex with Kwame; they aren’t married; can’t be, right? Jo brings his mind back to the bar. He’s unable to approach the delectable drake. Somehow, one cannot approach the same sex the way one does the opposite sex.

Eden

Nana Ama lies wakeful at night. She made loyal love to her handy hubby, Kobby, just 30 minutes ago. He’s fast asleep and basking in some paradise at the back of beyond. But Nana Ama is flushing and longing for her little girlie, Sena. She’s only person who has made her come in her whole life. And Sena creates heaven every time they make love. She looks sadly upon the blissful face of sleeping Kobby. Then, she turns over and reaches for her phone.