Laurent Gbagbo – Bush, Crazy Child

Musical chairs. Enfant terrible wriggles his way to the final. When the music suddenly stops, Enfant Terrible is still standing; stunned second. He bawls out to his family, who come to karate-kick the poor winning child off the champion’s chair. Now, Enfant Terrible is perched on the seat. He feels supremely stupid in his skin, but pretends to have retained a speck of self-dignity. Urchin. Vermin. Bush crazy child. Why did not his mother terminate the pregnancy?

Ghana’s 2010 Memorials

2010 has wickedly whizzed by, before our best-laid plans have got grip. If you were quizzed about Ghana’s most memorable moments in this low-yield year, what would you venture? To make matters murkier, let’s exclude football’s fascinating World Cup.

The 5 Which = Me

Well, I was asked this question with the line (a little harmless self-promotion)


Cute


Funny


Creative


Articulate


Kind



What are your 5 best qualities?

Little Litterer Learns

A little girl stood at the edge of the road, holding her father’s hand. Her brother sat on a high bench behind them. It was 7 am, and she was eating from a polythene bag. When she was done, she sneaked her hand behind her. I imagined what she was about to do. As it turned out, her father guessed too. She dropped the bag on the ground. Quick as lightning, her father rapped her on the head. It was a healthy, disciplinary clobbering delivered through her ‘fro. He scolded her and asked her to ‘pick it up’. That was a happy morning for me.

Medofo Pa

Oh Kojo Antwi, you made me cry this morning. In the thick traffic panic, I was seized by your poetry; emotions got clogged, eyes let go, as I sang along with a quivering voice.

Se ofiri adwuma eeba’a, mede amirika n’ebeko akohyia no, na ma ye no awawa tuu. Odo yewu w’aba aa tenase, na me nhwe w’aniwamamu, eno n’ema me awerekyekyere, me hu wo aa na me no ete me, ah odo yewu ee.

Dayum, I’m smitten.

Odo ni ho aa, medaa enda ... Odo ni ho aa, eni nsuo nkoaa ...

November

As November scampers by

And December’s wind is nigh

I think back to January

And this year’s changes in me

Mid year’s emotional meltdown

And how I learned to lose my frown

Learning to love myself again

Dealing with last year’s piercing pain

As November flies away

I’ve no real regrets today

Breast-Slapping in the City of Accra

Office Female #2 said at lunchtime today that she was in a trotro 7 years ago, when a suckling baby decided that its mother's breast was not the solution to its crying. The choosy baby disengaged without warning, causing the milk to squirt freely over other passengers' shoulders onto Office Female #2's sparkling shirt. She says she was more upset by the smell than the stain (she says the smell of breast milk is not adult-friendly). Well, what did she do to mother and baby? Nothing. But she felt like slapping the baby quiet, and then slapping the offending breast back into the baby's mouth!