The Oldest Thing I Own

The oldest thing I own is an old book that belonged to my Grandfather. It is about 50 years old. It is a book on jurisprudence - the philosophy of law - and he wanted to be a lawyer. Unfortunately, he did not go far enough in formal education to be a lawyer, even though he made it to magistrate (career magistrate). I loved him to bits.

He called me "Senior Brother", and died before I discovered I wanted to study law. Maybe I did it for him. He died sitting up in a hospital queue. He was 84 and very ill, but nobody would let him jump the queue.

I have never read that book - I never may. It holds much more than just the complex writing in there: life, love, sentiments, a deep bond.

What is yours? What is the oldest thing you own? What's the history behind it?

Who Would You Wait in a Line For? Or What?

The longest I've lingered in a line has to be between freshman registration day at the University of Ghana and waiting to cast my ballot in the 1996 Presidential Election. It must have been 6 hours apiece.

But, God, I really hate to be held up in any kind of queue for anything. Come to think of it, I wait in 'line' all the time as a lawyer waiting for my case to be called in court. Shucks. Need to change jobs.

What 3 things would I gladly wait in long lines for?

1) Maybe Lil Girl after she's been away for a while.
2) Maybe Obama (or Nelson Mandela), if he will actually exchange a sentence with me.
3) Can't think of anything else.

What about you?

Judges Only

As seen next to a courthouse elevator today.

Apartheid? Nah, just kidding.

Mmm, The Pleasure of Reading

While the ‘Benighted Estate’ spent last week and this week jousting over politics, International Children’s Book Day slithered past almost unnoticed. World Reader, Golden Baobab and the Read Worms Club (Ashesi Uni) travelled to Adeiso (Eastern) to read with school kids.

The kids have been provided with electronic readers by World Reader so they can read books without turning pages. Mmm, pleasant. World Reader is a not-for-profit. They are doing this as a calling.

The reader pilot programme is running at Adeiso, Kade and Teacher Mante. Adeiso is the kid’s-gloves child. The kids have e-readers, Saturday readings with visitors from World Reader and Read Worms. Kade has just the e-readers, and at Teacher Mante the kids just have government books or government no-books.

After a while, Adeiso, Kade and Teacher Mante will be compared, and we all know what the scale would be.

E-reader providers, African-content promoters, and undergrads with purpose are coming together to build a sparkling future for our kids, and it hardly makes the news! It’s at once one of the most wonderful, heart-warming, ‘smileable’ things I’ve heard of since ...

I’ll Never 4give You

Anon text message I received from a UK number while writing my blog post for today:  I’ll never 4give u.

My reply: Dunno who this is but Matthew 6:14-15.

April Fool? Remember Wilkinson & Downton

1890s England. A regular at a public house told the owner’s wife that her husband had been seriously injured in an accident and was lying in a ditch with broken bones at Leytonstone. He asked her to bring 2 pillows and a cab to take her battered husband home. It was untrue, and he was only playing a practical joke on her.

The harrowing news however caused a violent shock to the woman’s nervous system, causing her to wretch and her hair to turn white. She suffered other forms of permanent injury and incapacity including mental distress. Her husband was put through expense trying to restore her health.

Her husband sued the juvenile joker in court for damages, and the court held that the fool who thought he had jokes was liable to pay damages for his wilful lies which had injured the poor woman.

Play your pranks with care on All Fool's Day and every other day.

Fire Burn Your Arse

One night, a group of boisterous youth blows up a blazing bonfire in a grassy glade. They gym-jump over it to prove brazen bravado. Opana is one of them. He’s forgotten that he’s plugged his infirm derriere with a thick tuft of cotton wool. He leaps over the flame, and a flint catches his pants. A flare eats the wool up Opana's sorry arse.

He who lives in a glass house...