The Average Ghanaian

Who, do you consider to be an average Ghanaian?



A man with a steady job earning between 1,000 and 1,500 Ghana Cedis a month?

A man with a car which he drives on the regular?

A man who shares a two bedroom flat with a friend so that he may defray cost and save more?

A man who eats out regularly at between 6-8 Ghana Cedis a plate?

A man who if he so chooses travels internationally once a year?



or



A man with a part-time job earning between 150-400 Ghana Cedis a month?

A man who takes the occasional taxi but moves primarily on tro-tros (commuters)?

A man who rents a small a single room which he shares with his wife and child?

A man who always eats at home or from the 'corner caterer' for less that 2 Ghana Cedis a day?

A man who has seen neither the inside of a plane nor the 'Welcome To...' arc of a neighbouring country?



or



A man who does odd jobs here and there for what ever is given to him?

A man who takes the occasional trotro but primarily walks to his destinations?

A man who has a kiosk or rents a mat when the sun turns in?

A man who survives on sporadic meals?

A man who thinks of travel only as a means to take him back to the bosom of his village?



....or is there yet another man who forms the benchmark of the average Ghanaian?

Today was a Good Day

while the sun shines, do make hay

while you are young, be merry and gay

when you are thankful, rejoice and say

My goodness; today was a good day

I Told You So

You say you want to

I say, don't try

You say you'll have to

I say, you'll cry

You say you need to

All I do is sigh

You say you love me

I say, bye bye!

What do you see?

Black and white, shades of grey
green, green grass, bales of hay

the sweet smell of rain, cometh the monsoon
a beautiful house, boy locked in his room

a nice shiny car, blood sweat and tears
a nice shiny car, shattered dreams full of fears

religion in issue, clashes and destruction
smiling politicians, broken promises and seduction

a child's imaginary friend, neglect and confusion
a fat man with cake, gastric bypass operation

a couple holding hands, beatings and bruises

an F for math, female student refuses

an African nation, a people in strife

an African president, a country for a wife

...sometimes Music and Movies don't mix!

Watching the Dark Knight for the 3rd time I was joined by my elder sister who has the knack for asking too many questions about movies she would never watch.

- Oh, that’s BATMAN!

She says..

- Yes it is.

I reply...

- Why is he doing that?

- ‘cos he is a hero

- But he’s hurting them…

She exclaims…

- They’re bad people I reply

- Well that’s not very ‘hero-like’ is it?

To my relief she remembers she is cooking and leaves. However she returns later with yet another barrage of incessant questions much to my dismay

- Who’s that, and what happened to his face?

- Harvey Dent a.k.a Two Face. He was burnt.

She paused and proceeded in a enquiring tone…

- ….Two Face Shakur?


I smiled in silence.

Get Down On It!

R2Bees, 'I Dey Mad OH!' resonates from the speakers.
she took to the dance floor, her jewellery shining, her smile widening.
her enthusiasm, overwhelming.
her moves made my eyebrows inch closer to my hairline.
she was bobbing like a snake and shaking like a leaf.
as she 'went down' her arms reached for the sky and her bottom almost touched the ground!
shouts and whoops echoed from her peers, shock and disbelief evident from mine.

she has told me on many an occasion, 'the music you young people listen to today is trash, nothing like the good 'rhythms' of the old days. how can you even dance to it?'

Once she catches her breath all ask my grand-aunt the same question.

Grief...

We live, we love, and as life goes on we lose the ones we love.
When they pass we are told that we should cherish and dwell on the good memories and times we had with them ....

.......so my question to you all is....

Why then do we take pictures at funerals?

Too Much Love

...a loving sister told her sister, when you go to school i shall miss ya:

a tin of 'cerelac' she did buy
to wish her little sister a fitting goodbye

with hugs and smiles they did part
each loving sister playing her part

off to school the younger did go
over a terrible rough road she did go

the 'box-room' key she did entreat
to treat herself to a treat

the tin she did open
her mouth stood open

the foil in the tin was torn in half
the contents of the tin stood at half

nestled in the tin there was a letter
the younger began to read every letter

her big sister in the letter did say,
I’m sorry 'sis' don't know what to say

hope when you read this you are alright
i had to make sure the 'cerelac' was all right

Alone Inside

I'm alone inside
But not for long
The crown has gathered
To hear my song

The lights are lit
The mood is set
The people await
With bated breath

The curtains are drawn
Necks are strained
Performance performed
They call my name

The lights are dimmed
The cheers have died
The people have left
I'm alone inside

The Saga of a 'Returnee'

he sits in the corner completely blank
he creases his brow, deep in concentration
the result; beads of perspiration
he stares straight ahead into the emptiness that is his mind
his brain is parched, ideas no he longer finds
his heart is hollow, passion has left
in exasperation he exhales his breath
he raises his head and wipes his brow
through the fields and wilderness he must plough
for now his (writers)block must become his brick
until the passion and ideas return fast and thick