Unscripted

It’s my birthday and I am going to tell you about a typical day in my life; a very true story at that. Being someone who like to play in the shadows of discreetness, I must say talking about myself gives me an indescribable feeling I dislike, but it’s probably because most are not worth writing about. I am a bad guy in a very good way, so anytime I decide to talk about me, I am either reveling in my deviance or gloating about the very few bright spots fate has littered along the journey or talking about the mundane things everybody experiences which is uncool for me. 

I would rather talk about things, discuss ideas, or join the men at the coffee shop or even listen, which is most of the time, than trying to impress you beyond reasonable doubt, simply because I am one of the very few who believes in the maxim water finds its own level. Yeah, who no know no go know, unless they know; the very reason that informs our choice of books by their covers. How else do you pick your books anyway? 

I must however confess that till now, I haven’t settled down on what to write about because I don’t know if I should talk about me in my teens, my twenties or now, my thirties. I don’t know if it should be me at the church, school, in the Club, at the Parties or Carnivals, Beach at night or during the day, on road trips or with family and friends and most importantly, I don’t know if it should be one of my downsides or upsides, but yeah, I’m hell bent on telling you one of my stories to at least inform or correct one speculation or a perception thereof. 

Alright, I will indulge you in how I was unanimously elected the Psychology Course Rep. in the first two years of my University Education at the University of Ghana, Legon until I relinquished it and stopped attending lectures altogether. It was the second day of Lectures and most of us were yet to actually understand where we were and what was happening. University education has begun and we are here some, at the Premier University. And you have no idea! 

Expectedly though but things were brisk and different. And yet, while some of us were still struggling to find the locations of lecture halls and theatres or struggling to memorize semesters instead of the terms we were used to or even trying to convince ourselves that we knew what credit hours meant, I was battling it out with a T.A. who was then a Law Student at the UGSoL to retract his words in course of his lectures to which he obliged, which in turn made me happy and we’ve since been friends.

Psych 101 is underway and the topic at hand is sources of Knowledge which he explains are divided into two main parts, namely scientific and non-scientific methods and he delves onto Tenacity, which is one of the non-scientific ways of acquiring knowledge. He explains tenacity as holding on fast to something or a belief and goes on to say, for instance, Christians believe in one stupid book which tells them that a certain King Solomon was and shall be the wisest man even in the absence of verifiable truth to which almost every student exclaimed “Oh!”

As if on cue, I yelled “Sir, you can’t say that” from the back to which everyone exclaimed “Eh” and
silence befell the lecture hall. You could actually hear the tick-tocks of watches and he asked me to stand up and I did. Things are about to get real shady, I told myself and then he asked me to explain my reason(s) for the retort.

Then I say “Sir, you can’t say that just because it did not happen in your time or there is no verifiable truth. Most of us were not born in the era of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah and cannot say for a fact that he lived even though he did and led an awe inspiring life which is already mythical to our generation. How much more a legend that is two thousand years? In fifty years time, anyone who chooses not to believe in the Kwame Nkrumah Story can resort to deriding him and his opinion will not become the new truth. Besides, Sir, the Bible symbolizes the faith of so many people here which is why you can’t say that” and the whole class cheered yeah, yeah, hear, hear, and anything people say when they pride themselves in a Champion.

The Lecturer managed a smile and thanked me for the perspective and instructively retracted that analogy and apologized by actually saying sorry which was humbling as he continued with the lectures. About ten minutes into time, he calls and beckons “You at the back, come here” and the class with their usual exclamations that sways in allegiance of who is winning or losing the turn of events exclaimed “3h3” meaning ‘as3m aba’. Honestly, I felt the jitters as I walked forward to the front of the hall.

“Gentleman, what’s your name?”

“Alfred Kpodo”

“I want you to be my Class President, will you?”

Hesitatingly, I answered “Yes, I will” then he turns to the Class and asks…

“Do you want him as your Class President?”

“Yes.”

“From now onwards, you are the Class President”.

“Thanks”

Then he asked me to take my seat to which I heeded and that first step I took after the introduction marked the beginning of my enjoyment of special favors on Campus. 

And, just so the import of my recount does not lost on you, all I am trying to say on this very beautiful day which also doubles as my birthday is that I am a Cancer and I can be very infectious. God bless as I dedicate my first Unscripted to my parents for showing the way in my quest for happyness.

Happy Birthday to me.

writer tweets @vilejah

The near misses...

He reached for his two brown loafers, fitted his feet into them effortlessly and then looks at her intensely with a somewhat expressionless face for what seemed like a couple of seconds, bade her a goodbye and then storms out of her room through the big living room which was spatially adorned with nice fittings and fixtures in an unusual manner. For a reason he couldn’t fathom in that little space of time, he felt happy and relieved he was leaving Awo’s end with less drama than he anticipated and the fact that he was not harboring his usual look-back-go-back feeling except the assertive wind that snatched and banged the trap door into its frame as though he was upset at the turn of events.

His energy is sapped and he doesn't want to continue like this any longer. Even though he did not know how they found themselves in their current situation, one thing was certain - it was over. How long will they continue to fight over everything; same things that made the relationship thick in the not so distant past. It was time to hit the road, so he dared and prayed silently that the feeling was not false. 

He walks to the roadside which was just a stone throw away depending on who throws the stone and flags down a Taxi. He sits at the back of the car, diagonal to the driver's side as though he owned it.  He couldn't care less and couldn't care about sitting positions - his bane, which was out of habit.

He peered through the half rolled glass on the window into the distance as street lights and neon billboards display all kinds of merchandise money can buy glides by. He hardly can have a grasp of a billboard or the concepts they seem to eternally illuminate before another one comes by – a sudden realization that the driver is speeding and he loved it. A little speed in his life right now is welcomed.

He observed that part of the city was half shut-off, a reminder of the ever present ECG which no one seems to care about, even the Govament! Pockets of blur lights in the distance illuminating like floodlights, resulting in less human and vehicular traffic. The airy night was just perfect as it readily influenced where he should go and do for a getaway.

A perfect setting for all the wrong reasons...

KoLo is confused about who he is and by extension, what is expected of him. He is preoccupied with conflicting images and ideas of who a real man should be. Trends are changing so fast than a dog can trot. Bat an eyelid and the world moves ahead a decade leaving you lagging behind.

Things have changed. You can't really be yourself any longer. Everybody is supposed to have a role-model or be one. By all means, act and behave like one of the leading men in the drama series or just someone popular to get by. Just be anything other than you.

According to some lifestyle magazines, a real man should keep a job. A real man should visit the meds periodically. A real man should be represented or associated with prim suits, big watches, at least a big car. A real man should be greeted with a rousing welcome when they make an entry or make everyone sad when they leave the party. A real man should not make his lady cry or lack anything, not even her emotional needs and the list goes on but thanks to some alcohol, some irresponsible friends and some Daddy's legacy, he has been able to push thus far.

He is tired of being subjected to the standards of Hollywood or wetincallit. He is ordinary and wants to remain as such and tired of keeping appearances. After all, no one is dedicated to making up his face ten times in an hour, neither is his hair primmed to stand on like bristles from time to time. He adjusts well and whips up his not-so-smart phone, unlocks it and start wiping his finger on the lit screen with dexterity in a way you have never seen before. He seemed to have done that all his life.

He delves into his gallery and start swiping pictures of him and Awo. All the nice moments they captured in the fleeting scenery and the beautiful imagery it provokes, the laughter on their faces especially that of hers, as though she couldn’t live without him. She even said it so many times. But how he managed to live with this lie is something he is not even prepared to think about, not to talk about the promises, the good life they envisaged together and just everything they share. He realized he was getting sentimental again, so he puts the screen off and slips it back into his pocket. If only he could do same for his mind. How relieving it would be to just snap something; maybe a finger and the mind shuts.

Everybody including Awo wants something, so it turned out that she wants the good life, travel around the place if possible, hang out with the Socialites among her circles, and spend some real cash. She also wants a real man out of her man which means anything that makes her feel good even at the detriment of the significant other. A man who compliments her shortfalls – a need dictated by her suppressed emotions….

…to be continued.

writer tweets @vilejah