The Little things (II)

Story so far...

Sammy and Dede have lovers since their undergraduate days at the University of Ghana, Legon, and have decided to tie the knots soon after graduation, but the harsh realities of life would not make their fantasies come to pass. After several years of struggling, ambitious Sammy landed a job far away from home; Dede, and that was the genesis of their nemesis… Read on.

Sammy stopped travelling down south because he gets so tired travelling to and from Accra to the hinterlands which was seven hours and Dede stopped asking to see him. She either went up north to visit or stayed over at home to attend to other things. Even though Sammy owed his allegiance to Dede and was not into any other relationship, the steam in the engine was lost. He was thinking of other things and why not? 

They stopped discussing marriage; at least Sammy was no more enthused about the idea of marrying that early. All he had on his mind was how to retain his job. He needs that job forever, and was determined to do anything to keep it, which requires that he upgraded himself. He wanted to further his education at the expense of the marriage they have been planning for the best part of five years.

He was not aborting the marriage, he was still in love with Dede, whatever that meant, but he only wanted to postpone it until he was assured that his employment slot was secured, and then they could marry and live happily ever after. That’s all. Too much to ask?

True to his word, he started a 4-semester course spanning between sixteen and eighteen months, which took the better part of his time and Dede also grew tired of convincing him, that, they could still get married while he attended school. Dede was what we referred to as a virtuous woman, the kind who understood what the ideal kind of love is, and the kind most men will be happy to have. She was supportive and loving but her biological clock was ticking. She was tired of wishing to cuddle. She was tired of desiring to be loved and cared for under the same roof. What she wanted was a legit man for a companion, a man to complement her, and she was tired of waiting.

Maybe their happiness was not tied to each other’s, that’s why he chose education over marriage when it was all they were looking forward to. It was the more reason why they prayed for the job, but if he has chosen to further his education at the expense of their marriage, then it was her turn to choose immediate self-gratification at the expense of the deferred happiness --- After all life is too short to spend it in limbo. Time and tide waits for no one and life is how you make it. 

As would be designed by fate, Sammy was engrossed in school work and could not call or stay on the phone for the long hours they were used to, which came to deepen the apathy Dede was having for the relationship. To her, the relationship was headed nowhere since they no longer shared the same dream. They now have individual dreams and are better off as individuals rather than, as couples. 

And all the while this warfare was going on in Dede’s mind; Sammy was working by the clock and turning things around to make it up to her. He has disappointed Dede, once too many times, but it was to ensure their sustained happiness and strong marriage foundation and from his perspective, it was only guaranteed when he was still in employment. It was only guaranteed if he remained the man in the relationship and from the part of the world, where he hailed, manhood was determined by how much you have.

Unknowingly to Sammy, Dede had decided that is was over between them, and she was not willing to actually invest in the relationship any longer, so she stopped picking most of his calls with all kind of excuses. She has all of a sudden become very busy without tangible explanations. Normal conversations were even becoming herculean; so awkward and sometimes, they even have nothing to talk about. 

One night, while he lay in his dormitory bed, Sammy reckoned he’s made a mistake by not going ahead to marry as soon as he made some money. His thought weakened his resolve, but there was nothing he could do. He could only wish time flies fast, so he can see his dream materialize as the proud husband of Dede. 

He recalled how they met in their second year after a three credit hour paper that messed up all of them. He even recalled how they met the following day as scheduled under the trees near the Athletic Oval, where their desire to date was sparked up and since then, they have never looked back. They were perfect couples if that word ever existed. Their feelings were mutual and they appeared to be the envy of most of their friends. He couldn’t have come this far only to lose her to someone who doesn’t deserve her and might probably not treat her like the Queen she is. He has to save the situation.

Art is Life

Madonna of the Carnation by Da Vinci

Art is very expensive and a serious business, because it is rare. Rare things come with some unusualness and have an air of extremity, and often, these attributes become the outstanding features of the said art. I am convinced beyond doubts that, no one can actually replicate a creative art without using the original one as a guide or a format, even though, I stand to be corrected.

Artists become so competent in their chosen field with time and practice, empowered by passionate desire to create out of the vacuum. They go within themselves to conjure images, breathe life into them by applying effort and skill to bring the conceived images to reality. The subconscious mind with time, then becomes accustomed to their creative instincts, which in tend make them create with less effort and make their arts an almost perfect one but, no two arts can be the same.

You can only have two ‘Madonna’ paintings and that of the ‘Universal Man’ or that of ‘the last supper’, – the first, always being a guide to the other, and neither can two people create the same piece of art. Even God in his own infinite wisdom has not been able to create twins to look entirely and absolutely the same, how much more, an infallible man. There’s always bound to be a difference when you look harder. 

The rarity of arts is what has informed its collection on the part of those who can actually afford and take care of them through the ages. Just like a vintage wine, the more a good art ages through the years, the more expensive it becomes. We would at least agree on the fact that antiques costs more than boutiques. It is also expensive because, it’s not like, you can get the same piece elsewhere. These and more other reasons is why, art is so cherished by those who understands what it really means and what it actually is. You would even wonder why people go crazy over arts, or the authors of the said arts that eventually becomes an object of their obsession.

Just in case, you are not drawn into my argument yet, art covers all aspects of our life and without it, our life would be very, very mechanical and maybe, lifeless. It is rightfully so, because, art among other things includes painting, sculpture, printmaking such as clothing and textiles, photography, Music, theatre, film, dance, architecture, literature and other forms of performing arts.

Art helps us to relax our minds. They take us on endless journeys and usually promises fun, as the mind revolves around the creative piece, until it is finally absorbed into it. Art is magic, it even has the ability to make us forget about our own very existence, as it takes us through different realms and its related experiences, but I beg to differ that, the kind of arts some people in the Ghana Music Industry is churning out is rather throwing our minds into turmoil instead of soothing them.

A good artist should have a very bottomless depth of creative ideas but the Ghana Music Artistes lacks this. Maybe, my opinion doesn’t matter, but I would like to say, I love the arts and have an impeccable taste when it comes to choosing my pieces. Even though I don’t know what inform my choices, they tend to stand out in the long run. 

The Artistes in the industry may not necessarily be doing exceptionally well, but they get most of their acts right and would be pardoned, because they are well vexed with the rudiments which comes after very long years of practice but the least said about the musicians the better. 

As relative as truth may be, it still must be voiced out without fear or favor that, some of the current crop of musicians parading our stages are bereft of ideas and must sit up, if they really want to take their career interest to a different level. 

How creative are you, if only one or two songs on your album become popular with the people for only two months? How long can you actually sustain the interest of your audience with your nine unpopular and two popular songs? How creative are you, if you go into oblivion after dropping some three singles and never to make a recording anymore and still walk around calling yourself a Musician?

I am usually quick to recommend them for their efforts, but Arts go beyond efforts. Arts is inspired from within by stimuli from without so when you venture into by an inspiration from without, it will evaporate into thin air and leave you clueless, which is what is happening to most of the Artists in the industry. Nobody gets paid to do or create Arts, they only get paid for doing it, so money should not even be the motivation, lest, you will stop when it starts trickling in.

Artists should take their time and create from the wide range of what the environment has to offer because, there is enough to be created by everyone, and society must be ready to reject works that are shambolic and in the same vein, praise and support creative pieces that beholds the eye, for it is the only way, the artists can be sustained in what they do. 

Disc Jockeys have to be ethical by politely advising these artists to put in more work and make refined arts that would outlast them, rather than taking payola from them, which is eventually killing the industry. It is even informing the reason why most parents are not encouraging their children to go into the arts industry, specifically Music.

And to conclude my article, we all have to make it a point to get what we deserve, by indulging the Artists to think outside the box -- the only guaranteed way to make them create out of this world.

The Chase

No one has ever been able to stop a mob action...

“O julor eh, julor eh, mor l3”, “Ewi, Ewi”, “shoot am”, “Barawo, Barawo”, “mun kyinu”, “Fiafitor” were some of the words, the agitated and overactive mob springing from all the crannies were chanting, as they gave the tall burly man a hot chase of his life --- A chase he would live to regret if he literally survived this ill-luck situation.

The soared dust that had been dug up by the heels of the incensed mob and all the noise they made, as they outrun each other in pursuit of the fugitive was enough to red-wash any building. It was just a matter of time when the alleged thief with no exhibit was caught. He flipped over walls and inter-weaved between speeding vehicles as he maintained his pace. It was all he could do for now because his energy was sapping and his limbs were getting weaker, especially his wobbly long legs. 

“Why did I not calculate the situation well, oh God, you have to help me” he murmured to himself. He was now tired and has to stop somewhere to meet his timed death. Yes, at least, he knew he was going to die within minutes, looking at his looming assailants. They carried all kinds of unimaginable weapons – like, clubs, metals, stones, machetes, not to talk about the number of them that wielded these weapons. 

Hitherto, his pre-occupation was exactly, where and when to die, but the area and the cause of his imminent death were now known, and he had just spotted a Church building in the distance and knew exactly where he was going to die too. He has to die in the house of God and as to which barbaric people would kill in the Lord’s presence; he chose to leave it to posterity.

The lacerations and bruises he received from his earlier wrestling when he was first apprehended has started burning deep, cutting through his marrow and was eating into the very fibre of his being. He has to give up, but he knew what awaits him. 

It has been a very hot and a scorchy day since morning, due to a heavy downpour of rain the previous night, and many people who worked along the streets, and those who could readily be spotted even from afar had taken shelter in any visible shadow and could barely be seen by just any onlooker, unless you actually were looking for shop owners and keepers alike, thus making the whole area deserted, which gave the alleged thief the impetus to pull a fast one on this elderly woman whose five Grandsons was visiting from all walks of life.

One of them had just arrived from his ten year sojourn in the States, which had attracted the rest of them to the house to catch up on all the years their cousin had been absent and stayed incommunicado. They teased each other, talked about everything until it was time to debate who amongst them was the eldest – and it was when they all barged into the store from the rear door that connected the store from the house, only to meet the ugly scene going on. 

The suspect had cello taped the mouth of the old woman which was an extreme thing to do anyway, considering what had ensued between them and if not for anything, respect for old age. The old woman who could barely walk and had being furnished with a store to keep her stationery and busy had apparently commissioned the young man to work for him, but when it was time to pay, the situation degenerated into an altercation, resulting in the old woman yelling “Thief, thief” on top her tired voice. All efforts to stop the woman from causing a scene and probably landing him into a big trouble fell on deaf ears, which forced the man to take such an awful action.

The first Grandson to enter the store couldn’t help what he saw and without hesitation or any prompting, jumped onto the insensitive guy, but could hardly hold on to him. The latter was punched in the face, which made him black out and has since become a casualty, giving the seeming encroacher a leeway to flee from the scene. He had to abort the ‘operation-shut-up’, due to miscalculation and take to his heels. 

He did not run past 100 meters before he was apprehended, which resulted in a hot battle; a battle for the very miserable life he lived. The remaining four Grandsons, coupled with concerned onlookers closed up and started lynching the outlaw, but he somehow managed to ward off some of the blows by using his hand as a shield and stamping others with his foot which gave him another chance to finish his last lap towards the Church building.

From time immemorial, the Church has been, and seen as a sacred place by many, regardless of where your faith and allegiance laid, so he thought running in, to seek asylum would be the best and wisest move in his situation, but his energy would not take him that far – another case of the soul willing but the flesh being weak.

Say No, to mob action

He was not a thief and should not die as one, but he knew that, no amount of reasoning or pleading will assuage a group-think action. He wished he was rather arrested and interrogated but it looks like caution has already been thrown to the wind and he was home bound to meet his ancestors. For the first time in his life, he lauded the proponents of those who wanted the act of instant justice, scrapped from the system because it was barbaric. He thought about the many innocent people who have died this way and his countenance fell once more. Life is unfair.

No one has been able to control a mob yet; a mob without a leader to calm his people down, one that has prejudiced minds all gravitating to one centre and with a desire to see justice done, because the wheel of justice grinds very, very slowly and in some instances, doesn’t grind at all. The justice system has failed them once too many times and now, they have resorted to seeing to it themselves.

The ugly scene that was chanced upon by the Grandsons still required that this young man was punished, but dying this way was another way to poke the system in the eye and maybe which behooves that, we have a lot of work to do on our justice system. 

His already lamenting and weak soul was giving up on itself at an accelerating rate. After all, no one will allow him to explain himself, but he was still hopeful of covering the small distance between himself and the Church, because at this juncture, it was all he had on his mind. Before he could be halfway through his resolve, he stumbled and fell flat on the face and the spectacular speed with which the towering man came face-down was enough to defy Sir Newton’s gravitational force of 9.8m/s². The chase has come to a grinding halt. It was finished.