The one-night stand

She managed to express something between a long deep breath and a sigh, after which she gently rolled off his broad hairy chest to lie a little farther away from him. As soon as she felt comfortable enough in her new position, she reached for her Smartphone, which was obviously smarter than her small mind. She was about to browse her increasing guilt away. For her, the feeling of not being on the phone for the past thirty minutes or so could be likened to a neglect of her world for many light years.

Normally, she would have to reply texts, return missed calls, and look around her Facebook community for gossips, and to answer messages on Whatsapp, Tango, Viber and anything that makes the nothingness grandiose, except this time around, she had an objective, which was to find out if the poor lonely boy she has been flirting with, for the past three years was still single and waiting on her forever, as he always offered. 

She fervently hoped and prayed with bated breath for the poor thing to still be available as she quickly navigated into her inbox. She dug into her long list of messaging pals, until she came by the name she was looking for and frantically typed a “hi” before heaving a sigh. Even though the green light which indicated one’s presence on line was off, she silently hoped it was off for a reason. What was she going to say when a “hi” pops up? Was she going to out-rightly tell him that she was now available or she would diplomatically elicit information her own way, she deliberated.

She was apprehensive and would not hesitate to make it evident. Life has changed and it was her turn to want, to have, and to keep, and it didn’t matter if she was desperate. She was the one who always looked forward to having a good man; a man she could be proud of, a man who will assuage for her rolling stone of a Father who never was there. 

Growing up without a real man in her life, all she envisaged were men playing different roles and doing all sort of magical things with her. Men who were at his beck and call but only existed in her mind. She had her own notion of what love should be and had her own idea of which man she deserved. A checklist she always failed to literally carry about, which makes her ends up with the same wrong men. 

Her idea of a man is the heroic type who will defeat other men and go for their ladies; the types that pop up in soaps and the cover of Playboy Magazines with two hour hairstyles painstakingly preened up like they were stalked. She always envisaged being with a real man who has his wardrobe lined with fine silks, colorful suits and pairs of shoes for every occasion. She wanted Denzel Washington, maybe a knight in a shining armour or Superman himself, forgetting that, they will all be busy saving the world rather than serving her breakfast in bed.

If she wasn’t this finicky and too keen on what society would think of her, she would not always end up with intelligent and attractive but foolish pricks; guys who would like to be qualified as geniuses instead of the everyday smart she was used to. She always wanted to be important by being with important people who always ended up abusing and breaking her self-esteem.

Here she was, with her resolve as a woman, broken into tiny fragments by the man she was looking up to, as the husband in the making. Even though his need and sense of carefulness has often come up as leads, she failed to follow through and is now about to pay for her negligence. Maybe she fell in love as usual and now reality is jostling her through the exit door. She has to go. She cannot take it anymore. Only fools don’t change their minds and she was not one.

She suddenly felt a surge and thought it was now time to face her fears. It was now time to move on and never again was she going to allow her discriminating mind to split her reality. Life is too short to be contemplative. She quickly went through her contacts, as she bit her lower lip, hoping she had saved the phone number Conrad gave her some time ago but could not find it. If only she had even called him once, she thought.

Conrad was one of the men who held Asantewaa in high esteem and would have done anything to make her happy.  Even before the advent of Bruno Mars, Conrad would have jumped in front of the train for her, but all he got in return for his noble intent and unadulterated love was to be denigrated and treated like a rag. To her, it was pretense because Conrad ought to have known that, they did not belong together. He should have known that she was too classy for him.

“Indeed!”? She thought aloud. 

 “Take me home” she spat out

“I am definitely doing that soon”

“I mean now”

“Come on, you know that is ridiculous. We barely started and…”

“I need to leave here, just take me home now” as she woke up from the bed towards the dresser,

carrying her pair of styled jeans, a yellow lousy blouse and a pair of flat-heeled shoes she picked at the foot-end of the bed. She dropped her things on the stool in front of the vanity set and quickly slipped into her underwear, followed by her Jeans. She hastily wore her dress and walked briskly to the slightly opened door and slammed it behind her as she walked out into the silent and cold whispering night to the amazement of Mr. Playboy who does not mind anyway.

She was going to look for Conrad or wait for him, wherever he has gone to. She has learnt her lessons the hard way, that heroes were only good at saving the world but not at making women feel good and wonderful. Conrad will be her all purpose man. He can and will make him happy, after all she does not need any Superman.

Even though making mistakes was human and expected of us, she was afraid that making one more could turn her into a Superhuman, then it dawned on her that, she had not considered so many things; things that could just deflate her renewed energy and motivation if it didn’t go well.

What if Conrad is nowhere to be found or finding consolation somewhere in the arms of someone who took advantage of the opportunity when the chance presented itself?

“Opportunity never comes once”, she said to herself and started jogging into the night….

Making sense in a senseless world

“The middle of both sides is the asshole” – Anonymous

 

How logical is it for Marriage Counselors to be filing divorce every now and then? How about animal rights activists adorned in leather foot wears with fine belts strapped around their waist still preaching against the killing of animals for social or economic gains? How sensible is it, if buck doesn’t sound like fuck or fuck sounding like fork, yet are worlds apart when it comes to what they mean and represent? How about the Church admonishing the youth to stick to one sexual partner when it is their preserve to ensure that, they don’t even stick at all or engage in amorous relationships until they are actually ready or Police Officers getting apprehended for stealing the very things they were recruited to safeguard?

Evidently, these and many more examples that might bore you to the marrow do not make sense, unless you find yourself in the position of these unfortunate people who always give us a reason to appear sanctimonious.

Even though I am sometimes compelled to conform to the norms and play to the gallery, the only times I do not feel the need to justify my actions and inactions is when I am in control of myself, and as rare as those moments may be, these moments serves as a platform for me to throw caution to the wind and express myself very well.

These moments; the only time, people’s opinion and observations do not matter to me, the only time I happen to deviate from the norm and fall outside people’s expectations and do not give a damn about their comments and reservations.  The only time I project my imperfections as if they were my best features and attributes (trump card). Sincerely, these transient and amazing but exceptional moments, only leaves in its wake an awesome feeling, making me wish it had lingered on for a while, simply because it turns out to be a moment of yet another personal discovery.

Why do we go through thorns and thistles to pick rotten mangoes we can’t eat anyway? Why do we try to explain ourselves even if nobody seems interested in our explanations? Is it to boost our ego or to be accepted as part of the fray? Do we feel inadequate and inferior enough to be the ones to set the standards? It beats my mind why we try so hard to make sense in a senseless world? 

Somehow, I found myself trying to get the right spelling for a practical joke we used to indulge in, way back from my childhood, which comes in the form of teasing, and the realization dawned on me that, I wasn’t making sense to myself. I also realized that, it was the more reason why we should be guided by prudence to let sleeping dogs lie, unless there is an intruder we want it to bark at. I just could not tell if the game was called shiela, sheela or shila o shila as the intro that always preceded the game, but the consciousness was enlightening all the same. A highlighting moment where I realized that, so many things do not make sense if you look at them critically. Yeah, the closer you look, the less you see.

It’s funny how we sway to and fro like a pendulum because we all want to follow where the road leads. It is even disturbing when the queued up folks who usually don’t have a mind of their own are making it difficult for the daring ones to tear away. They indirectly ask you to be like them or you risk being liked by them. 

Evidently, being a loner is no child’s play and only attributive of those who know where they are coming from and by extension where they are going, which behooves the individual to make up their minds. It is serious business being a loner who doesn’t yield to group-think simply because they trust their instincts and abilities as unique individuals. So, by all means from the year 2014 and beyond, go where you want to go, say what you want to say and be who you want to be as long as you are not cloning anyone.  Cross your t’s and dot your i’s and stop justifying yourself to your audience because they will watch and comment anyway. Just believe in yourself and spearhead your life because being in the middle only makes you an asshole!

Merry Christmas to you, my cherished reader. May you enjoy the yuletide to the max!

Sex: the controlling factor

Yes! Sex controls you and I. It dictates our feelings and by extension, where we go, what we do, which dress and fashion sense we wear. My mom is probably stuck with my Dad simply because they had sex, no, most likely because they gave birth to me, no, it possibly could be, because they got married. Sometimes, we don’t even know which one comes first, but unlike what pertains in our modern dispensation; I am cocksure, they did not jump the gun. 

Maybe these days of being online does not give anyone the luxury to really care anymore. Things have changed, but how long have they been like this? Perhaps, I have been oblivious of the fact that it has been same way since the days of Adam, but, thanks to whoever threw me the curve ball, I have finally arrived.

If you have noticed the sharp and radical contrast that characterizes a relationship when it transits into intimacy, then you probably may have had a firsthand experience with the context and situation I am trying to depict here. Even though, it is not always accompanied by a rude awakening we realize that, we are either being audited or queried or find ourselves doing same to our partners.

They ask us where we are and even deem it their preserve to know. Sometimes, we have to tell them our plans ahead of its implementation. We even feel less important in their lives when they don’t involve us in decision making processes, simply because of the sex factor. Either their fashion and sixth sense rubs on us or they subtly influence us to pick it up or in rare cases, allow us to be.  in the case of religiosity, their degree of inclination and how we fit into it generally becomes a warfare.

And to think that, these hitherto sex partners were meek, tolerant, understanding, self-sufficient, accommodating and probably independent thinkers before sex only makes it unintelligible. When people have sex, they become emotionally attached to their partners except in handful cases where they detach. We try to subconsciously demarcate our space in their lives and vice versa. We assume a partial sense of ownership which is why we become territorial and do not allow others to come around.

We have a propensity to think that, our partners are answerable to our sometimes miserable questions just to satisfy our ego which we don’t let go, even if the writings on the wall seem so legible for our comprehension. As conflicting as it can be, we subconsciously find ourselves wearing and choosing their favorite colors, appreciating and singing the songs they listen to and also conforming to their ideal definition of what their ideal man or woman should be – as we take a long hike into what their predispositions were.

I really do not care what you are thinking or which category you may have classified yourself to be in, but we all become stressed towards people we have sexual relationships with, several times before the sun sets, sometimes over petty issues like jealousy, their commitment or lack of it, simple dis-agreements over what to eat, wear, who to associate with or even where to do the association. Then, you would turn to yourself and ask, why all these unnecessary drama?

Dear reader, the answer herein may seem oversimplified but it is simply because you guys have had sex or still having a sexual relationship and if you are wondering why these drama and attitude of yours does not extend to your other friends you are yet to experience intimacy with or even in extreme cases, your Ex, then we are on the verge of discovering the answer together.  We may almost be concluding this article by agreeing that, sex controls our lives, so be careful who you initiate intimacy with.

An Open letter to Shatta Wale

Dear Bandana,

I don’t even know if you still respond to the name Bandana anymore, but I had to use it to make a point, to let you know that, I have been around from when you stepped on the scene with Moko Hoo  till now.

From the time you dropped your first single featuring Tinny, which made waves on the Ghanaian music scene, stopping everyone in their tracks, a lot has happened in-between. You have been in the news for everything but good reasons. You are either caught up in a video smoking weed which is usually not a Hi-grade or insulting Event Organizers and any other perceived entity standing in your way in the full glare of the public.

It is time to focus on the man in the mirror because the only person you hurt is you and your future, as long as your music career is concerned. Nobody will contract a perceived irresponsible icon to be their brand ambassador, which is bound to affect their image and reputation nor support your cause. It is good identifying with the grassroots but isn’t that typical of anyone who is not at the top yet? It is time you look at the bigger picture.

Honestly, Apart from your hard work which is not usually acknowledged by the larger audience, I must say you rose to prominence because of the empathy many of us had on you after your rants and raves at the aftermath of the Vodafone Ghana Music Awards. Some of us thought you deserved some acknowledgement to serve as a platform for you to work harder, but I think the little recognition which could be assumed as fame has gotten into your head.

The earlier you realize that you are in a competitive world and playing by the rules of showbiz (show business) the better for you to start pulling your acts together. It is high time you realize that you are in a competitive world with scarce resources where no one will dole their money to manage or produce an ailing and non-performing artiste; an artiste that is so cocooned in his own world without being mindful of the values its society holds dear.

How many people do you expect to buy and play a song that has pussy, suck your morda and other unprintable words in them? How many brands can you become an ambassador for, let alone talk about being a model for the upcoming artistes? 

Maybe, your management is not helping enough, but it is time to build a brand. It is time you build a brand that has the potential of convincing everyone that, you are a work in progress. Many of us believe in your raw talent and hail you as the self-acclaimed Dancehall king that you are, simply because you have paid your dues to the genre. When others were swaying to play other genres, like Afro Pop, Azonto and Alkayida, just because it was what was in vogue and bankable, you remained faithful to the genre.

As much as beefing in showbiz is a thriving force for record boost and sales, your beef with Samini Dagaati, the Music man, is needless and uncalled for. It is probably making you lose sight of the main act which is how to brand and present yourself to the public. Your presentation is very necessary as long as the business part of the show is concerned. 

I know you are in business. I know you need some money to defray your cost, to build a brand and to probably start recording in platinum studios. Fact that, you don’t play your gigs in orphanages and on the street alone shows that you are not in a charitable venture but business. You have to take yourself serious.

It is undisputed that you are now the acclaimed Dancehall king “inna di whole Ghana’ not necessarily because of your hits but fact that, it is all you have known and represented, but you really need to relax and learn one or two things from Samini, who is nationally and internationally known, versatile and appealing on all fronts. Samini has worked with a lot of musicians which eventually has given him an in-depth experience and exposure you can tap from and make it to the very top. Sit back and sift through the comments and opinions of the very masses that will make or break you and tailor your game according to their needs. 

However, I must congratulate you for making it to the levels of Samini. Fact that you are being compared to him on the big stage alone is even a feat you can bank on. It means, the people have recognized your efforts. It means the people are divided on who to support. Do not make Samini your standard, work on the contents of your song, your image and personality as far as the public is concerned and you can become the official poster child for Dancehall in Ghana.

Shatta Wale, we love you for your perseverance, we love you for thriving against all odds. We love you for whipping a renewed enthusiasm in the music industry and for bringing the Dancehall genre to the fore. Once more, we love you for making the music scene vibrant again. Shatta Movement for life!

Your Biggest Fan 

The beauty of writing

I know a lot of people who knew me some two years ago would have noticed an apparent change in me and it is even remarkable how they have not taken the pain to ask or pass a comment on the evolving me, but I reckon they are also working hard to finding a balance between their evolving selves. Perhaps, they don’t have time to spare. Maybe, they just don’t care or I can even die for all they care. We all have our devils to deal with.

Is that hypocrisy or plainly telling me in the face that I can go hug an ECG transformer which is bound to kill me anyway? I doubt if that’s really what the case is, because I probably may have been a part of the deadlock thus making it quite difficult for a few who could have broken through the territorial shield. 

Sometimes, I like to refer to this change in attitude as growth. I feel it is just me trotting ahead of the big run. Yeah, just like you, I also get skeptical, knowing that this big run may never come off, but I don’t give a mind as long as the trot is making me build momentum. It’s good as long as the trot occupies me and leaves me no luxury of time to sit with hands clasped in my lap. That is me growing out of group-think. That is me biding goodbye to playing to the gallery. That is me being practical with this rationality thing.

Shouldn’t things make sense to me?

I haven’t become uptight; I just cracked the code. I just chanced upon the blue print that keeps you busy all night around the round table. I am now privy to the game plan even though it threatens my very existence. I just stopped saying yes, when the answer should be a bold no. I only stopped laughing at your lame jokes. I just stopped dabbling in frivolities even though you think my absurd situation has just worsened. I know you know that, so let’s keep it on the down low.

Well, Check out if I have changed that much? I haven’t been in Church in a while and same applies to school, even though I would give anything to return to both sooner than later.  Never really been scared of death in a while, because all it does is to take my loved ones away from me. I have also taken a particular interest in how money works now, because apart from death, it is the second most factors to have scattered family and friends abroad and also because it can help me make a rippling positive impact on my generation and probably beyond.  It has simply denied us those positive vibes we used to share, but not by any means necessary.  

I haven’t read a book in a while neither have I swum in a while because I dreamt I got drowned.  Do not be too quick to conclude that I’m being superstitious. I call it trusting my instincts. Let’s just say I trust it because it is the only significant other who stays here with me through it all.

Dear Reader, before you start wondering what I’ve been up to lately, with those times and resources, then let just say, I have been finding a continual equilibrium between the old and new  me since it is being run on pilot basis. Talk about the gains and losses, the times and its related experiences and the need to delve into the nothingness; the void.

 All I do is to take a kingly ride through my Utopian alleys and rat-runs. I also like to watch the wind whirl around, while i wait for my time. I just bask in my comfort zone and watch the world go in slow motion while i ride alone in the fast lane. <cackles> I’m over speeding again.

Why do I heed if it doesn’t make sense to me?

Why do I agree if I actually disagree?

Why am I being compelled to keep appearances?

Is the unnecessary interplay between power a means to prove superiority or dominance?

Humph!

Sometimes, unnecessary thoughts such as, would we have made this stride as humanity without democracy, which prescribes the vital few to speak and eat on behalf of the masses? Thoughts like, are we ever going to have a revolutionary sort of a President who would crack the whip and save the gullible and the dying? Did Bandana have to demonstrate that unnecessary drama to be acknowledged and accepted in the Ghanaian Music Industry and beyond? Why are the Officiating Pastors still asking the newlyweds to recite same old epitaph of a wedding vow which becomes an albatross on their necks when they can actually be allowed to say a word or more to express how they actually feel before the trusting congregation? I also wonder what Rick Ross means when he says “I fuck her good”. Yeah, I keep wondering if Rick Ross could actually fuck that well and tell it to the whole world. Progressive, right? 

The aforementioned and other thoughts occupy my mind and leave me no space to even think about productive things. They make life intriguing for me. They make me want to scream. They make me want to get lost. They make me want to have power to at least, stop some of these absurdity and positively so, they make me yearn for enough wisdom to understandably navigate through this labyrinth of a life. 

As long as the fool will still be thirsty in the abundance of water and the rich man’s wealth being the center of attraction in the city, we as a people must face the truth to make life a lot easier for us. If we can stop the charade and come together as a people fighting a common enemy, and as a people synergizing to overcome our overwhelming woes, we would forever remain a hateful lot. We would supple in idiocy by rewarding bootlickers with high economic returns or even social praise. In other words, let us call a spade a spade.

Sometimes the careful and creative stringing of my real or imagined experiences plus the ability to say everything there is to say, just by creating a character makes me write these stuffs. It’s just one of my insane thoughts I would like to table before your sane mind to ponder on.

I have read some beautiful stories in my life and no matter how fictional they were, I was bound to relate to a lot of the scenes in the real world which only leaves me appraising their writing styles. I wonder how they do it so well and easily. To me, it is the flair with which they throw words about, devoid of conventional writing styles and the outstanding oddity is what becomes the icing that gives it that extra oomph which leaves the reader in admiration. It is that edifying moment when you realize that there can be endless possibilities. Even though I really wouldn't know if I was able to captivate your thought and imagination thus far, but without further ado I would like to say I was just practicing a writing style.