The Baby Fence-mender (Tooli Bibii)

On the eighth day after the birth while the moon was yet to evanesce, kinsmen thronged the now famed compound to witness the miracle baby. It was a replica of a shanty town; unplanned cluttered dwellings with very good asphalted roads flanked by open drains.

"Did you find it easy to get here. Here, taste this." I was greeted at the wooden gate by my fiancee, Dede, offering a calabash of fresh, hot, dark corn wine she had fetched from the cauldron sitting on flaming logs, yet to boil fully.

"Oh yes," I slurped a little. "I told the driver I was headed for Asere in Ga Mashi...Lante..."
"Lante Djan We" , we synchronized. "Yes, yes!"

By now kinsmen and friends, all clad in traditional white had carved a crescent seating formation, leaving the middle of the compound bare, where I noticed a ring of ash. I took a seat.

"That's my Uncle Kwei Mensah and his wife, Ny3kw3 Kai", Dede nodded. They were old and grey; I could say almost or a little past three-score.

"It's indeed a marvel", Dede explained. "She has been childless for decades, and my grandmother has given her no rest at all."

"Your grandmother has patience the size of my baby finger", one lady behind us interrupted our conversation, unwelcomed. I could detect an ample doze of tartness in her voice. She sounded salty.

"I know, Ny3kw3 Amateokor. Let's not ruin today", Dede, skinning her teeth, was not one to take offense at a first jab.

A towering old woman came hobbling across the compound clutching a baby wrapped in a piece of white calico safely to her bosom. The rite was set in motion.

The moon was still blessing us with good light. She commanded much respect, for everybody either rose to bow or wave at her as she lurched into the ring of ash and rid the baby of its cloth.

She held the baby up towards the moon and chanted, "We present this infant to the Supreme Being", then laid the baby down in the circle of ash, repeating the process twice.

"Oh it's beautiful...it's lovely. Our ears will rest henceforth". Ny3kw3 Amateokor was still casting vengeful subliminals, this time echoing it across the entire compound.

A bowl of water, signifying rain was thrown unto the aluminum roofing sheet and allowed to dribble on the baby. Next, the aged woman gently tapped the back of the baby and repeated, "Never lie, steal or cheat. Take after me."

I stared at Dede. "She is held widely as the eldest kinsman of good repute," she explained. I nodded.
"This is water, and this is wine. Know the difference." I saw the baby suckle on the old woman's finger as both corn wine and water were put in her mouth.

"Henceforth, you shall be called Lamile...Lamile Amoaben-ajaaku."
The uproar which erupted was thundering.

I followed as the kinsman handed the baby over to her mother, slapped the cork of a bottle of schnapp and offered libation on behalf of the infant.

"Agoo Ataamei ke Awomei.“Tswa Tswa Tswa omanye abla'o Tswa Tswa omanye abla'o. Tswa omanye aba, Osoro (Osu) Ahatiri, Obu Ahatiri, Oboro dutu wokpe, Wodsebu wodse nu, Wo ye wo nu wo kodsii adso wo, Gboni bale etse yi ana wala, Enye yi ana wala, Esee tuu, Ehee fann, Eyi aba gbodsen, Ese aba halaann, Wekumei wona faa ni wo fa le, Eba tsu eha wo ni woye, Eko atasi ni eko aba, Ganyo humile koyo tsua dani owieo, Tsua Tsua Tsua manye aba,”
"Hiao!", the guests said Amen to that!

After the neighbours had chucked down enough meat and emptied the cauldron of its corn wine, and everybody was dancing to the E.T Mensah's "Abele", I noticed Ny3kw3 Amateokor had locked Dede's grandmother in a seemingly fond embrace, both swaying to good hi-life music.

"Look at them," Dede sniggered. "This baby has made brothers of Nanumba and Konkomba."

By Michael Nii Moi Thompson

About Writer : Michael Nii Moi Thompson is a US-based Ghanaian poet/ writer of fiction. His debut book of short stories Tooli Bibii, is scheduled for release soon.

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THIS LOVE BUSINESS

Setting:

 Amu’s chamber, dirty drapes hanging loosely down the windows, and partly covering the peeling paint of his walls. Clothes lay flung across the floor and on the single, mahogany bed with brown sheets and spreads. 

A smiling picture of a striking Esenam used to hang up there somewhere, and he used to worship it every sunrise. It was his single photo gallery, and all his friends were forced to see it upon entry. But something happened; he cannot exactly tell what, except to battle with his left and right conscience.

Amu’s soliloquy

“My love for Esenam had drained faster than food in a colander

Yes I adored her hips and curvy contours, Yehowah!

Her lips tasted like fire

Burning with the slightest touch…Liar!

Keep mute, right conscience!  Do not call me a liar

I loved Esenam with a desire

Not for curvy contours and luscious lips…never!

I speak of bells, gowns, and a priest at the altar”

“O laka l3”….daabi, mi laka ko l3, you know

I like fair women with tall legs and long hair, although

Esenam’s skin should glow

Have blue eyes and lashes that show

Whiter teeth and fuller lips or so

Maybe I was carried away, tonight will tell…”

Setting:

Esenam’s mirror; with her reflection staring at her, wanting to burst forth and slit her throat with a broken piece. She admired the nakedness of that young, dark woman in the mirror, who had grown slender for her lover, Amu. 

Esenam envied her curves…maybe her freedom, for she was stuck in the mirror and away from the work love burdens its captives with.

Esenam’s soliloquy

“How such brawny arms turned so old

And the red hot flame, go cold

Is best left a story untold

I loved him…Liar! You loved his apartment and the cars he sold

Even a gold ring does corrode

But first cut was deepest; I feel it in my node

Or maybe I should hold

Tonight will tell…

Tonight, somewhere around Osu

Amu threw on a crumpled polo shirt over faded jeans, paying little attention to the Nike sneakers caked in layers of mud and filth.  He chuckled and shrugged as he took his seat at the table of the eat-out where he first took Esenam. 

He remembered how he had ironed his shirt back then, and traced his trousers with the tip of the iron to avoid double-lines. Now he cared less, and as Esenam appeared, he realized she too could not be bothered.

There was no hug, no greeting…

“How long have you been waiting?” Esenam asked perhaps innocently, while hanging her bag on the seat and straightening her messed-up hair. Two months ago, she had braided the latest, most complex rasta with expensive Brazilian wig.

“What time did we agree on?” Amu retorted.

“Let us make this short,” Esenam advised.

“Don’t worry,” Amu cut in sharply. “I have better things doing with my time as well”

Esenam rolled her eyes in disgust at Amu’s sarcasm. She hated him for that.

“Oh, like milking cows?” she wanted to hit back at him, but realized it was not working, for he just blew his nose and feigned indifference.

“I realized that we are no longer compatible. Fine, we like the same food, the same music, can carry on a conversation for hours…” Esenam started. “But that connection is lost”

“Guess we were all attracted by the wrong elements,” Amu shrugged, and that was it. They hugged and locked each other in a passionless embrace for a second or two and parted.

As Esenam left the venue, she had Braa Kwami on her mind, and yes, his brawny arms, accent, the sleek Chrysler PT Cruiser he drives and his tall stature charmed her most. 

Amu was on his way to Odornaa, and then head on to Nima to meet Aisha, who had fascinated him three weeks earlier with her fair complexion, near-green eyes and a curvy frame crowned with well-greased lips, as though they had just been dipped in frytol.

‘Such vain cycle; this love businesses’, the wind sighed, but they both were ear-clogged!

Originally Written and Published in May 23, 2012 by Michael Thompson 

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On Strife and Voice (a review of BrymO’s “Prick no get Shoulder”).. Rated 18+

By Myers Hansen (@myershansen on twitter)  

BrymO

you’re old enough to fuck
you’re old enough to know
nobody gives a fuck
 your wahala na your own

BrymO has a new CD out Tabula Rasa (the gift), it is made up of great songs. BrymO has a brilliant new song out, Prick no get Shoulder; those are the first four lines.And in the end, this is why in my opinion; every true artist should go through the valleys of the shadows.  Oh, it could be anything; a brutal accident, a sudden cancer, death of that one person who regulated their soul, or in BrymO’s case, a long sore tussle over contracts and consequences … anything. I don’t mind, as long as it provokes a return.

 Look, BrymO can sing! His voice is unpretentious; it is characterized by odd familiar truth, a root. Have you heard “Good Morning”, from his Son of a Kapenta album? Ok then!

The man can sing, but perhaps until now, it is all he was doing –singing. Now though, he has our conscience and chest…today, he’s grown into an artist and has taken charge of his craft. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure all his songs before his last two albums, especially this last one, were written from deepness. But God, listen to Merchants, Dealers & Slaves, his very defiant 2013 album which was obstructed largely by his prolonged public legal battle with former record label, Chocolate City Group.

There were issues of an injunction and large possible fines. Even if no one would admit completely, someone was harmed. Publicity on M, D&S was not enough, which is why this is the first time you probably are hearing of it. It is wrong for such a strong project to be that unknown. It is wrong to soul, it is wrong to art, it is wrong to life –for then, art is incomplete…and that’s not a good thing. So, listen to M, D&S, and then let’s talk.

Meanwhile, BrymO has a new CD out; Tabula Rasa (the gift), it is made up of great songs. BrymO has a brilliant new song out, Prick no get Shoulder; these are words from the bridge:

For this world
Wetin you sowYou must reap
Na true thing
Nahin I talk
We no dey chop
For where we shit…

BrymO

Usually, an artist’s best work is their first album, or when evil spirits have visited them…because then, there is a flood of emotion and story waiting to be shed or shared. That’s where we usually find the artist, for then, he has witnessed purpose and wrestled with/ for his tabula rasa, his gift. There, he has interacted with a height and awareness…of beauty, of strife, of neighbors, of little things and vanities, of secrets and prophecies…of Merchants, Dealers and Slaves. His every word suddenly contains spirituality and is aimed at the bottom of our hearts. There, let them say “Kofi is going to school”, and we can relate to it. Let them say “…prick no get shoulder/ you put e head, the rest dey enter”, and it builds a lump in your throat and invokes thoughtful smile. When an artist is at that point, their truths converse with our truths, and god is achieved. Therefore, an artist’s troubles are a periodic requirement and their blessing.

BrymO himself said in a tweet that M,D &S was his best attempt at music, but then admits that Tabula Rasa is “something sweeter”. BrymO, within a year, has given us two albums which are undisputed chefs-d’oeuvre, both containing a voice which, in my opinion, he never may have found had the last two years not happened to him. An artist’s voice is their tool, their weapon, and whether they find it with their first or third album, it is still that perfect reward for their pursuit of happiness.

Nowadays, when BrymO sings, he’s naked, he’s bare. He does not intend to impress, he only attempts to converse. He keeps it short and to the point, and has become a disciple of the philosophy “the beauty of simplicity”. He feels live and here…like you can say stuff back at him, like you can see sweat on his brows and nose, like you can tell a what point in recording the song he smiled or lifted his left hand.
You like to kiss the ass
He hit you when he fart
You take am take fat
Your wahala na your own

The people at Mikky Sounds Factory definitely facilitated that. It’s always good to have someone who can help make physical the atmosphere in an artist’s head. He too should be commended, he’s a musician too. He’s been able to listen carefully enough to hear what the artist hears in his head. They too are responsible for why nobody can rush through the album.
If e sweet o
I go take am slow slow

The album is gorgeous.  I’ll come to Fe Mi, the first official single off the album, pure love on beats we call “Agbadza” here. I’ll talk about Dear Child, divine homage to an honorable grandmother, 1 pound, something which makes you love trumpets and whistles and reminds you of hunger and Fela, Back to Love, which invokes similar sentiments you would feel for Asa,Nothing’s ever promised Tomorrow, which is what the album is about anyway – honesty, courage, love…Life and living. It’s just, reviewing art as serious as this takes time. Finding words to describe 11 true songs requires patience.Tabula Rasa, which is of Latin origin, suggests a clean slate or the fact that training and observation make us. BrymO says the expression hit him deep when used by a judge during a hearing in his recent weaning troubles.BrymO has a brilliant new album out, Tabula Rasa (the gift), it’s a great album.Brymo’s single, Prick no get Shoulder. These are the words of the chorus:

Prick no get shoulder
E no get shoulder
Prick no get shoulder
You put e head, the rest dey enter
Prick no get shoulder
E no get shoulder
You put e head, the rest dey enter
Prick no get shoulder

The writer is a freelance journalist and art critic based in Accra, Ghana.

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The Devil Wears White... A Fisherman's tale

Losing a lover is a heart ripped off, losing a brother is a soul taken away. June 13 1982 was the scissors which broke Nii Lartey Tsuru III from his umbilical cord. He was raised on the beaches of James Town where fishing was the oldest trade in the family and indulged every healthy looking male child.

After his kid brother was outdoored Nii Tetey Yen II (after their grandfather), Lartey Tsulu made a vow to protect his brother till death. “I’ll go to the end of the world to keep you safe. No son of Adam or daughter of Eve shall ever come between us”

The two brothers grew up like climbing plants, entangled in each other’s affairs. They would leave for sea early in the morning and return with their shoal at night. But in the rainy seasons, they left around 6am and returned the following morning with a bountiful catch. The women in the community are solely responsible for marketing the fish.

One Tuesday after my usual visit to the family house at Abolakpatashi, Nanaa packed fired Octopus and said “ kɔ mɔ mɔ lɛ fio fio kɛ ya shɛ shia.”

Tuesdays are traditional off days for all the fisher folks. They usually stay at home and mend their nets or service their outboard motors. I perched with half-buttocks on a bamboo bench at the shores of the sea, eating my snack and sipping on a bottle of club soda. After a few minutes, I heard a voice saying “Anyɛmi ha ma gbabo sane ko”. He introduced himself as Lartey Tsulu III and started his story.

He and Tetey Yen always went fishing together but on that sunny Thursday afternoon, he went to queue for premix fuel so they would have enough for the coming days. When the ‘Lɛ lɛ kɛ yaa’ was afloat, Tetey waved at him and shouted “tsɔne lɛ mli ye ni kpakpa, wɔ baa na loo waa”.

Early the next morning Lartey carried a gallon of premix and set out to meet his brother. All the boats had returned with the exception of the Amugi’s and theirs. After 5mins, he saw Amugi’s boat approaching the dock but theirs was nowhere to be found. “Ngbɛ wɔ yaa yɔɔ,” he questioned Amugi. Ngbɛ Tetey wɔɔ …. The news sank his spirits. “Your boat capsized and Tetey drowned in the process”, Amugi narrated. “The boat sunk and his body could not be recovered.” Tetey who had won fastest swimmer at the annual James Town Homowo swimming contest got drown at sea? Amugi you must be joking, Lartey fumed. “Produce my brother now now oo me I’ve told you.” It took several hours to come to terms with the obvious reality that Tetey Yen II was no more. Later that night after enough wailing, Lartey decided to take solace in the bottle. He moved to the blue kiosk near by and drunk his head off. Mostly, he drank his tears in place of the hot Apkɛtɛshi gin he was clasping.

Lartey found himself floating on the sea clinching on to his green bottle. Out of the blue he had a voice “Lartey Tsuru III do you want to join me here or do you want to know what really got me killed” It was Tetey dressed in a white suit –something which was very usual of him because he never liked the color white- . “Come, let me take you to where it all started,” Tetey said.

As though in a trance, Lartey felt a sharp pain in the head and before he knew it, he and his brother were standing in their boat. Tetey put out his lantern and started pulling his net into the boat. His net had caught a lot of fish, and was bursting at the seams due to the weight.

Then they both heard a loud cry “Tetey jump, the ship will kill you…” before Tetey could heed the call, his boat was destroyed by a foreign ship. His body was drawn by the current from the super powered motor of the ship and was instantly sliced into two. In a split second, Lartey saw himself standing with his brother. “This is what actually happened, this is what killed me…The white man’s ship.” Lartey went blank, coming back into his body to realize he was lying on the floor in a bar, holding on to his green bottle.

“So that is what happened to my brother… tell those politicians to stop drinking the FONKAR beer while they smoke the ‘all die be die’ weed” .

“I lost a brother…. Another lost a father…another lost a son… some other lost a grandfather. I thought they said Pair trawling was a thing of the past?

“Go out there and tell my story… tell the world how I lost my brother.”

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The Love Call

My six-figure salaried banker friend called me on the phone, hysterically wanting to tie nuptial knots with his girlfriend who was also a student nurse. However, he needed one crucial litmus test; a test to prove the quantum of love his girlfriend had in her love pot for him; whether it overflowed and touched the lid, or it formed just a drop at the bottom of the pot. He wanted us to take her through a little drill. I came up with a few ideas; we put our heads together and were set to put our idea on wheels. He called her and conferenced the call;

Banker: Sweetheart will you marry me if you heard I cheated on you two nights to our wedding with your best friend?

Girlfriend: Yes, I’ll forgive you and get even with your best man. Hahahahaaa…. I’d love to see the look on your face after that.

Banker: Will you marry me if you heard I lost my job.

Girlfriend: Yes, that wouldn’t be a problem because I’d also be working so I’ll take care of the family but if you don’t get a job within a year, we will start a business or some sort of trade with all the money we would have saved.

Banker: Will you marry me if I lost my legs?

Girlfriend: Sure why not. You’ll be 99.5% of the man I love and I wanted to marry and with my little knowledge in Math; you will still be ‘that guy’ for me.‘100 perfect.’

Banker: Will you still marry me if I became impotent?

Girlfriend: The devil is a liar!!! I’m afraid my answer to that one is no. how can I be the mother of your kids if you are firing empty shell casings at a fully armed woman like me?

Banker: Nii, did she pass the test?

Now that was when she realized that they had not been alone the whole time and asked if I heard everything. I answered in the affirmative.

This was what I told My Guy;

Dude, is this the girl you introduced to me as your girlfriend years ago? She is crazy but one thing is for sure, she loves you very much. Marry her before someone else does.

Then the girlfriend who couldn’t stop laughing asked, “Nii how much did I score?”
“Congratulations dear, you scored 99.5% which according to the lil Math I know is 100‘perfect”, I answered.

But before I leave you two love birds alone, who will that lucky best man be?

Then they both yelled “You”.
Oh hell Nooooooooo. They’ve got to be kidding.

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Tears of the Wind

She yelled out of a terrible dream when the clock struck 4. “ooh, its morning already. I have to get the girls ready for school.”

She hurriedly finished her chores, woke her husband up and had a warm bath. It was time to play mummy once again.
“Wake up girls, it is time for school and we don’t want to be late”. Little Naa was carried in her sleep while Ayikai took her mom’s hands and they were marched straight to the bathroom.

“Mummy my toothbrush,” Naa yelled “Mummy my sponge,” Ayikai joined in the exasperating chorus . In about 20mins, the kids were ready for school but they had to go take breakfast while she got ready for work.

She was ready to leave . “Alright girls, let’s get going”. She waited for minute but heard nothing. She moved to the dining and realised the girls had neither a taken a sip nor a slice.

“Naa, Ayikai, won’t you eat your food,” she asked. Naa, the youngest of the girls ran to her and hugged her. She looked really sad, “mummy, I don’t want to go to school today. Please don’t make me go.”
Ayikai also joined in the hug and said: “It’s ok Naa, go eat your food and I’ll take care of you when we get to school ok.” They both sat with their sad faces and ate their food.

She was running late for work. Daddy was already in his car but the Taxi driver who sends the girls to school had not arrived yet.
Just when she brought out her phone to call him, she heard the sound of a car pull into the house. “Madam, I make sorry waa for my lateness,” he said. “My car dey worry me sorry, Fa ts3 mi, ense bio.”
As the taxi started moving out of the compound, Naa and Ayikai waved their parents goodbye.

She got to work late, organised a Press Conference for her boss and before the conference was over, the day had ended. It was 4pm and she had to pick her kids from school. She called up the Taxi driver and asked him to go pick up her kids from school.

She got home at 7pm and her kids were nowhere to be found. “Where are the girls”, she asked her husband through rattling teeth.

“I went to the school and I was told you had asked someone to come pick them up with a taxi so I assumed they were with you at work,” he replied.

The taxi was supposed to bring them home, she yelled as she angrily brought out her phone. After four times of calling, the Taxi driver finally answered, Madam my car spoil oo , I dey come. Your pikkins dey fine, then he ended the call. Nothing annoyed her more than his perverted version of the pigeon language.

She tried to call the line again and this time a strange voice picked the call, hello maame make you stop dey call, you no go see the pikkins again
, the strange voice said but before the call ended, she heard her daughter screaming and crying.
Oh my God, she shouted as she fell to the floor.

“Daddy, our kids have been kidnapped”.

Her husband quickly picked up his phone and called the police. My two daughters have been abducted, he told the police. Few minutes later, the parents where at the police station to put down their statement. The Police inspector then deployed dispatch units to go search for the girls.

Suddenly, Goose pimples rained all over her body, she remembered the terrible dream she had that morning.
In the dream, she was playing with her kids on a road which appeared to be covered with snow when a strong wind blew and carried the two girls away. But as she yelled for help, the girls kept smiling and waving goodbye. That was when she woke up.

She fell to her knees and broke down in tears. “I’ve lost my babies, they are gone, I feel it in my soul. They are gone,” she wailed.

“It wasn't you,” she told her husband, “it was all me, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed them to go with the Taxi driver. Please forgive me.”

Her husband hugged her tight and as the tears rolled down his cheeks, he murmured, it was never your fault, I will never blame you. God gives and He takes away. I need you to be strong for me.

A couple of days later, the Taxi was found with body parts in the boot. The police together with her husband identified the part and confirmed that the body parts were that of the kids.

The driver was apprehended by the police at his hideout in no man’s land. He is to appear before a court on the counts of abduction and first degree murder.

What happens to this murderer is up to God and the court.

What happens to the family –the mother and father- is another story .

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I killed Michael

ANOTHER DAY IS gone am still all alone, how could this be that you are not here with me. This is the song I heard my Sara, my 24 year old wife sing when I woke up. She was a dog lover and her favorite dog was dead.
Three months ago, on my wife’s birthday, I bought her a very cutie, brown bull dog. She was so happy because her last puppy died of food poison and for a month I was treated like a King that was when I realized how much my wife loved animals especially dogs and how much she appreciated me. She named in Michael, after her favorite musician.
One Sunday morning, I decided to pick a stroll with Michael, I let it loose because I didn’t like to see animals in chains especially dogs. We walked from my house to the main junction which is about 0.5 kilometers. On our way back, in an attempt to kill a scorpion, it sting Michael. Fortunately for Michael I was close so I killed the scorpion and rushed Michael to a vertinary shop. On my way to the vetinary shop, one thing kept rolling in my mind “what will I tell Sara if Michael died”. The doctor treated it and I brought it home. I told my wife nothing about what happened, that incidence was really close so I decided to stay away from the dog for a while.
A week after the scorpion sting, I was home alone, reading on my roof top then I realized the house was empty and too quiet so I went down to turn on some music and went out I see if the sound was too loud. Michael was dull and it was laying still, this was because it was in chains so I let it loose, gave it a ball and let it in then went back up to continue with my reading. Michael came upstairs with the ball making waves that it wanted to play fetch; I took the ball, throw it downstairs and kept reading. It came back with the ball again but this time when I took the ball I threw it over the roof because I was reading, my bad. Michael just followed the ball and jumped off the roof and went straight down to hit the paved floor, little Michael was dead, I tried to revive it but it was to but it didn’t work so I put it back in chains and left I as if I didn’t know what had happened.
Sara got so heartbroken when she saw the dead dog and mourned it for a week. I couldn’t confess because I thought I will make it worse. She kept singing Michael Jackson’s “You are not alone” whenever she was reminded about the dog. I decided to confess but I wanted to do it in a grand style.
One Sunday after church I went to town and got a similar bull dog just like Michael, came back and gave it to my wife. I saw a big smile on her face then I went down on my knees and asked her if she would ever forgive me if I told her I knew how Michael died. She gave me a kiss and answered yes. I narrated the whole incidence to her and ended saying “ I killed Michael your dog”. She just looked at me and said “I love you dear and yes you are forgiven”.

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Will I ever remember?

By: Bismarck Nii Ogbamey Tetteh
I took my girlfriend to my grandfather’s house on Valentine’s Day four years ago. I wanted to surprise her so much that I had everything plan out well.
The House had been empty since my grandparents died but I made sure that the house was always in good shape. I loved music a lot as a boy as a result, my grandfather thought me to play the piano. On his sick bed he kept telling me “Alex, I want you to take good care of yourself and my grand piano when am gone. Make sure you keep it clean and practice always.”
Esi, my girlfriend loved Kwabena Kwabena’s songs so much that she would stop whatever she was doing to listen anytime his songs were being played. I wanted to propose to her that night so a week before, I got on of Kwabena Kwabena’s albums and started listening and learned how to play them on the piano.
That night when we got to my grandfather’s house, we had a candle light dinner and then watched my favorite movie ‘I walk to remember’. Esi then decide to do the dishes and went to the kitchen. “This is a perfect time for the surprise.” I told myself and walk to the grand piano. I placed the lyrics of the song I was about play on the piano and starting playing the prelude.
Esi upon hearing the song dashed into the study where I was, the look in her eyes was so romantic when I started singing. In the middle of the song, I stopped and asked her to marry me. To my surprise tears started to run down her cheeks, she hugged me and answered “ Yes”.
On our way to a boutique two years after, to select her wedding gown, we had an accident. I woke up two days later in a hospital. The doctor came in to see how I was doing and asked for my name. “My name, I don’t remember anything” I answered. The doctor explained that I was involved in an accident and as a result hit my head hard on the ground. He told me I was suffering from amnesia and hopes I will recover.
The doctor later introduced me to some people as my parents and asked me to go home with them. My parents told me all they could on our way home and mentioned the wedding, I felt like a formatted hard drive.
A few days later my wife to be was introduced to me, she was beautiful. I asked her not to worry because everything will go on as planned. We got married but at my wedding reception something strange happened. I requested for a live band and when the band started playing, I had a strange feeling to go play the piano. I asked the band to stop playing and when they did I walked to the pianist and told him I wanted to play something to for my wife.
After touching the keys, it came to me; I remembered sitting behind a piano hence I started playing, my wife after so time came sobbing. She told me the song I was playing was the one I play the night I proposed to her. “The Kwabena Kwabena tune I loved so much. Do you remember anything dear?” she asked and to her disappointment, I told her no.
We have been married for the past twelve years, we have two kids and my piano skills are back but I still don’t remember anything about my life before the accident.
“Will I ever remember” a question I keep asking myself.

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THE PROPHECY

By: Bismarck Nii Ogbamey Tetteh
WHEN Komieteh turned twenty, he went to see a fortune teller so he would know what his future would be like.
“All is well, your future will be great, blessed with children and riches.” the fortune teller predicted. She however added that there was going to be a complication. Komieteh was going to loose his first child when the child turns twenty and his death would be remembered by his family.
Mr. Komieteh was initially worried but after five years, when things started to look good, he forgot about it. He got married to Sally and after some months, she was pregnant, when they went to see the doctor, he confirmed that it was boy. When the baby was born, the couple named it Bruce.
In his youthful days, Bruce was very helpful and industrious. Not only would he do the chores for his lazy brother John, but he could fix electronic gadgets, small toys and even sometimes his father’s television set when it got broken.
When Bruce turned twenty, he had an accident whiles trying to save Jane, a five year old girl who stayed across the road from being rundown by a car. When Mr. Komieteh, heard about it, what the fortune teller had told him about his son immediately struck him. Naturally, the thought of losing his intelligent first boy frightened him.
In that accident, Bruce suffered a serious fracture in his leg and was hospitalized for three months. And even after he was completely healed, Komieteh could not leave him all alone at home so he took three months break from work.
The three months was up and he had to go back to work. Bruce had then recovered fully but he had to stay indoors because his dad begged him to. After two days of staying at home all alone he asked his dad to help him get rid of the loneliness.He allowed Komieteh to baby sit for Aunty Sarah, Komieteh’s sister. Jane had three children.
One Tuesday afternoon when Bruce thought he had put the three kids to bed, he also decided to have a short nap. Whiles he was sleeping, Kweku, one of the kids lighted a candle and it accidentally fell on one of the mattress in their room. Bruce who was in the next room woke up when he heard the kids screaming, rushed into their room only to see that the most of the things in the room were on fire. He called the fire service department and tried to get the kids out.
While waiting for the fire fighters, he went into the fire and succeeded in getting two of the children to safety but the third one was trapped under the bed. With all bravery, Bruce managed to get into the inferno and saved the life of the last child. Unfortunately on his way out, the door frame fell on him.
When the fire service people got to the house, that particular room was on fire and the kids were standing outside. They put out the fire but Bruce was died. Incidentally, he died out of suffocation, and not from any burns.
On the day of his burial, Komieteh told the people present that his son died saving three children. What the fortune teller told him some years ago had come to pass.

Moral Lesson: “Heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences”.

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Could This Be Love?

By: Bismarck Nii Ogbamey Tetteh


I sat in my room trying to figure out what this wonderful feeling was; I mean the abstract word ‘love’, and which of the two women in my life the rightful person is.
I had met a very lovely lady in town on my way to lectures last semester, I was stunned at her beauty and asked for her name ,got her contact address and phone number . I promised to call her as soon as I got home from school. Back at home I called her, and sounding so caring and asked me to save my credits for “free night” so we could chat for a longer period.
At dawn, I saw ten missed calls on my phone when I woke up; it was Caroline, the lady I met in town. She was so excited I returned the call. I realised we where so alike, got along well on the phone and it was as if we had known each other for ages.
After two months, I couldn’t do for a day without speaking to her and she also could not go to bed without hearing my voice. It became clear at that stage that we were in love.
One lovely Sunday evening, after some ‘doses’ of palm wine, the inevitable happened. We made love. Even though we both felt guilty over what happened, Caroline accused me of raping her. This resulted in a very painful break-up.
During that period of disappointment and heartache, a ‘angel’ from my school, Jane, gave me all the comforting I needed. She kept telling how much she liked me and that she would wait patiently for me to get things straightened up.
All the ‘codes and signs’ were thrown my way but because I was so hurt by what Caroline did, I could not decode them.
One afternoon after aMass Communications lecture, Jane walked up to me and whispered “I love u” to me, after which she kissed. And while I stood rapt in confusion over what to do, my phone rang. Lo and behold, it was Caroline.
She started crying, apologizing to me, asking if she could come back. Even though we were far apart, I could feel that she had regretted her action.
“I have forgiven you but let me think about the other option of reconciling”, I told her.
I am torn between the devil and the deep blue sea. Who should it be, the devil I know or the angel do not know?

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He Lives In Me

By: Bismarck Nii Ogbamey Tetteh

I AM Albert Atta Dodd, two years ago I was diagnosed of having a very serious heart condition and that heart transplant was the only way out.
Around that same period, Albus Atta Dodd, my identical twin brother, was also diagnosed with leukemia. Even though we are identical on the outside, we are totally different people in many ways.
“I would rather die than endure all that pain in chemotherapy” he said, when he was diagnosed.
While Albus liked jazz, classical music and R&B, I loved hip-life, reggae and dance hall. Albus was a very calm, slow to anger but I was erratic and got angry easily. He loved slim and God fearing ladies and I admired ‘bad girls’ with huge booty who loved it rough in bed.



In my case my doctor told me I badly needed a new heart and that if I did not get one within a month, something bad could happen. Consequently, he put my name on an emergency list. The situation was getting bad and when the heart was not coming, I became so very disturbed.
One night, I had a call that Albus had been rushed to the hospital. When I got there, he was in a hospital bed and he looked very pale, with his hair almost gone.
I broke down into tears, something I had never done since I became an adult. He looked like he was already dead.
“I was going to loss my life and my only brother was also dying”, I said to myself.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and within a couple of seconds I blacked out . When I was resuscitated I felt so weak and tired, and could not breathe well, so I called for my doctor. He told me that my heart had become so weak that he was not gong to allow me to go home or walk around.
I quickly asked him about my twin brother and he told me that he was ok, and allowed me to speak to him on phone.
After 2 months, my doctor came running to me one early morning that he had found me a heart, and that I was to get prepared for surgery. The operation went well. After two weeks, I became worried because I had not heard from Albus so I asked the nurse to take me to his ward but she refused. When the doctor arrived and I asked him of my brother, he told me that I had not recovered enough and that I needed to recover fully before I could see him. I started to feel uneasy about his response.
That evening I bribed a male nurse, who was on night duty, and he took me to my brother’s ward. When I got there, his bed was occupied by another patient so the nurse took me back to my room.
After I was discharged, the doctor told me that my brother left me a letter.
“Where is he” I asked with anxiety, but he told me to read the letter, adding that "all the answers you needed are in there." It read:
“Dear Albert, let me explain why I had to do this. You were at a point of death at a time where my heart was healthy. And because you needed it to survive,I asked the doctor to give mine to you as soon as he realized it was time for me to die, so you will at least have your life back and my heart will be beating inside you. We will then be one. I hope you understand that it was the right thing I did. While the doctors think only one of us had to live, I think both of us can live but in one body. I will always be there with you. From your loving brother, Albus”.
Those were my brother’s last words. It’s been two years since, and anytime I think of him, I have a feeling he is inside me. My life has completely changed, and I now like most of the things Albus used to like. I am as calm as he was and any time I talked to people who knew him, they keep telling me that I sounded and behaved like Albus.
The only logical explanation for that is his heart beats inside me.

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