Pale Shadows

After a long hiatus, I decided to break the jinx that has characterized my inability to publish my reeling thoughts and perspectives in recent times by pondering over why I stopped in the first place which ostensibly launches an onslaught of careful diagnosis and its attendant prognosis into a deep ROOTED problem in my environment.

Feelings distract. Once you catch an unguided one, you are on a downward spiral to nothingness. Void. At most you'd only be left with a pale shadow of your former self - a work that was in progress and could have blossomed into a thing of awe and glory. 

It is necessary to note herein, that whatever you are daring at requires time to maximize good utils to make one satisfied and if this pursuit is not meaningful then one should by all means desist. When was the last time you did something you loved to do? When the last time you actually did something that made you fulfilled and got you feeling like you were chipping at what life is going to be; the future and the feeling of what is to be?

 A day at a time.

Whatever you do, it doesn't matter if it’s the characterizing money, plaudits, platitudes and fame that spurs you on, it makes someone happy and so should you. By all means find something you love to do and do it regularly because in the end, it's all that matters. It's all that would ever matter.

What are you known for? What are you contributing to the society, and most importantly is it just situational or you are passionate about it?  Is it what you set out to do or it’s just accidental? Spurring yourself on to whatever you may be falling in love with may be the curve ball, and therein lies the root of the mishap.

Life is supposed to be simple but our daily choices make it complex and it's even saddening to note the effort we put in to make ourselves unhappy. Reading comes to me with ease and anybody who is looking through the looking glass should tell you that it's even easier if you are the one trying to churn out your perspectives for public scrutiny and engagement. And right there marks the groundbreaking to writing again.

We stop because people don't seem to like nor relate to our style or in worst scenarios, our presence. We stop because the plaudits are staggering and spatial. We stop because we haven't won yet. We stop to scratch people's asses. We stop just so we can be validated. We stop when we begin to be too focused on ourselves. We stop when we become inadequate. We stop when we want it so bad. We stop because we feel we are not good.

Well, I just might start publishing again because I cannot have my thoughts and sentiments deadlocked on my computer when I ever fail to wake up one day, for death is inevitable.

Writer tweets @vilejah

The doomwatcher's almanac

So, I was having a random chat with Ringo, the other day, and we came up with some interesting observations about people and society which I would gladly share with you in a jiffy. But before I indulge you further I think it is expedient to introduce you, my dear reader, to Ringo; my imaginary friend who is always there when I need to dilate on issues.  And just before you go off the tangent that Mynah - the talking bird, is at it again, I would like to preempt your mind that, unlike you, who doesn’t have the time when I am ready to engage, Ringo is always there to interact.

 

It’s funny how most people think they are the last link in the human chain, thus placing too much

importance on themselves or even on their watch. For a moment, we become susceptible to all kinds of hogwash, making us believe we are at the tail end of the world and by extension the end of human history. Is it not interesting when some folks express their disgust about how the world has or is coming to an end when bad and turbulent times come around? 

Conclusively, some will die en masse every time a catastrophe befalls us which doesn’t mean that the world has come to an end. No! The world survived the holocaust; it even survived the great flood that saw only a handful survive, so what more can come? At most, you might fall a victim directly or indirectly but come tomorrow, the sun will still rise from the East and set in the West. People will work, eat, merry and have sex to procreate, except you, who would have become a part of the statistics, which is sometimes exaggerated for future generations to read, thanks to Historians.

As generational cohorts, we are not fine as it seems but it’s just our fair share of trouble and disaster being dished out to us. After all, dread has always characterized generations before us, except ours are highly sophisticated and cancerous; sometimes through the simple administering of a pint of a deadly chemical and the plunging of a syringe or even a nuclear bomb. It’s even more deadlier when you think of suicide bombers and viral infections such as Ebola on the other hand.

But whether these stories of conspiracy are personal or polemical, perspectives or allegorical, it would be in the interest of the reader to see beyond the matrix to see the reality therein, since there’s usually a devil or God in the detail. And while it is hopeful to have solace in the fact that good shall triumph in the end, be however mindful that the world has kind of thrived on terror and trepidation such as Powerhouses fighting against each other for superpowers, tales of big stones raining from the skies to end our existence in such a morbid manner, deadly and viral infections that yields to no cure, economic crunches that cannot survive all the economic theories and spiel and wetincallit. So before you go about there spreading rumors of your gullibility that the world is coming to an end, take note of your existence on earth, subtract it from how long the world has existed and the answer is your demise is near, not that of the world.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

writer tweets @vilejah                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

The Untold Stories

They say its attitude, I say its perception!

I must admit most of my write ups are usually not for public consumption but somehow they find their way into the public domain. The need to keep at least those I deem inapt for the public is because they are laden with too many of my warped view of the world - my disappointments, dejection and rejections, gloomy moments and some little successes which are not detailed enough or anything worth highlighting. 

On the other hand, I think I can quickly hazard a few guesses why my subconscious still makes me publish some of these write-ups instead of keeping them to myself even against odds. Firstly, it’s because it makes a lot of sense to hide our valuables in plain sight which is rightly so because the more we look, the less we see. Chances are also that you may overly get used to it and probably write it off at your own peril.

Secondly, I think I have been using diaries incorrectly. I remember the good old days when it was fashionable to own one, year after year. The prestigious feel of either carrying the pocket sized ones along or coming back from the hustle to write in them. However I think I have outgrown writing in them.  I simply can’t make do with the care and security that comes with it any longer; the fear of someone unapproved reading my failures just yet. The handful bright moments and the fleeting aspirations, not to talk about the penchants and the wavering emotions as they delve into my innermost quietude without my consent or any interaction whatsoever. You can say I have become paranoid and you are right.

Thirdly, I think I want to be a part of the struggle. I want to hone my voice till it becomes loud enough to be heard. Keeping my muse to me is negative energy hence the need to contribute my quota. I am mostly aware of my limitations but I don’t see how it affects my efforts at trying. I can talk about the ease with which I can easily reach out rather than being sought for, the technological advancements, the new world order and what have you but unfortunately, it is not the import of this piece.

Sometimes, I think I talk too much but I always marvel at my invisibility anytime I take a trip through Twitter Avenue and Facebook Crescents. Herh! People can talk papa. The way they seemingly appear as all-knowing, having a thing or two to say about everything, professing theories and beliefs as though they are the second coming makes me think that we all talk too much. The only difference herein is how group dynamics affects our interaction and the way we tend to adapt. 

The difference thus affects what, where, when and how you choose to express your opinion or present your facts and the number of people you are willing to engage at a given time and still not losing sight of the fact that these interactions are somehow guided by (common) Laws.

There are so many things we don’t talk about especially in the public domain but feels comfortable talking about all day with a friend or two and I am confused as to which one is better. In same vein there are so many things I have not talked about publicly or at least with you. For Instance, I have not told you that I sometimes get disappointed when I remember all the numerous ladies, both young and old who used to call me My Husband when I was just a child. I have not told you that my dream of becoming an accomplished Musician is only short of someone believing in my potentials and giving me the platform to work on my lots, neither have I also told you that the dream is in limbo just because way back in 2008 when I met the then celebrated Jay Q, he insisted I sang in Twi which already had a Market against the backdrop of my (global) English stance in the quest of creating my own market. But If only I could  come across the people who produces and manages acts like D-Black, Asem, Nana Boroo, Akoo Nana, OJ Black, Tinny and other artistes of their ability, that singular dream could be realized easily but I am hanging in here and hoping…

Ever since I became privy to the fact that silence being golden does not mean it is gold in itself, I changed my mind - simply because the Gold fascinates me way pass the glow.  Yeah, that is the only enlightening thing about being enlightened. Changing your mind as and when new perspectives are illuminated. Going with the flow in a steady pace while still being mindful of the race.

They say life is short, live happily, cut yourself some slack, don’t be hard on yourself, don’t wallow in the past, develop an attitude, don’t complain, be thankful, say your mind, develop a sense of humor, start new things, go downtown or uptown (depending on which divide of town you reside) from time to time to acquaint with life there, eat healthily, Exercise a lot, dare to dream, laugh heartily, take vacations and capture bright moments but unfortunately, most of us are living contrary to this long list of what can make life thick and enjoyable for humans.

They have failed to prescribe another list of to-dos for those of us who are living far from this myth. They have failed to provide for those of us who can’t think past what to eat and where to sleep. The irony of working all day everyday yet can’t make ends meet juxtaposed against those who are working less of the time but have more to stash away simply because the former is touted as not working smart and other readily plausible explanations.

At least we could have a list that reads like, wake up before it is actually time to wake up or wake up even though you hardly slept, wake up to other noisy neighbors screaming at a stray animal or their children, work all day every day because it is good for your spiritual upliftment, eat less nutritional foods in messy surroundings, take selfies even though your face is wrinkled and your smile is wry, perpetually be inclined to the past, don’t save, refuse to have a sense of humor, don’t ever call over friends and family over to merry with you, have apathy for success, refuse to be a Socialite and at worst be a Masochist. We are obviously on our own.

We are continually faced with so many things to say – social issues no one cares about. These and many other issues which have become our untold stories simply because it does not put bread on anyone’s table, neither does it affect the price of kenkey.

There is so much to say but in the light of developing social trends, it is also worthy to note that some of our stories will forever be untold even though someone must hear us by all means necessary. And while at it, let us also be mindful that of all the things that can elude us, we have to steadfastly hold on to hope and positive self esteem in its right proportion lest you are declared the official douche bag of the Century.

Follow the writer on Twitter @vilejah

The Running Man

He ran home as fast as he could, panting like a hunting dog feeling accomplished after pinning down its game. He dashed straight to his door and reached for the knob as he frantically dug into the back pocket of his faded denim Jeans with the other hand for his key.

After what seemed like ages to properly insert the key into its hole, he opened the door with ease, entered and slammed the door into its frame behind him as though he won't go out again. He would have still been turning the key in its hole like a demonstration globe in its axis if it was his former lock set. He's had nasty times with that lock but the most embarrassing of all times was the day a borrower followed him home for some money he owed the latter but for some inexplicable reasons, he could not open the door until after three or more hours. And I am not even about to delve into what transpired in-between the time he was battling to get the door opened. Times have been tough and rugged. He must be thankful for the seemingly little things such as changing the lock just last week.

All the while he was ripping the door apart, his neighbors were just looking on as though there was nothing distressing about the young man's activities. It was his umpteenth time so they were used to it.  Sometimes he barged into the house with the whole community in tow and other times it was the Police. They were used to his showmanship and his adept ways of solving his fallouts with members of the community. He is terror personified and no one dares to meddle in his affairs.

He sat on his single bed and fell on his back. His breath uneven, sweat breaking into tiny bubbles, eyes wide open as he stared into the Ceiling.  No polished or patterned ceiling to draw him in or play tricks on his mind. Apart from his double bulb holder that has held his ever faithful blue bulb and the remains of the fan hook where his spoilt fan used to hang, there wasn’t much to see anyway. His mind was blank indeed.

 It was just another passing moment in his neighborhood except this passing moment occurs one too many times. He loathed his community and longs to see when things will change. Longing for days when water will flow through their taps again. To see days his beloved community will stop experiencing erratic power supply to prolong the life span of their electrical appliances and gadgets. His community must have a recreational park like any gated community. They should even have a Football Park. The days where every nook and cranny will be rid of the decaying blue kiosks that will do anything for money even if that includes selling alcohol to minors. And Lord knows they have been responsible for far too many deaths in the community than statistics can avail.

He despised his community. It was a congregation of people who think alike. Everybody seemed to be thinking as though they have been programmed. He doesn’t even know which one of the two words best suits them; Clowns or Clones.  They all do things the same. No role models. For a community that has the presence of the Police even more than a barracks can contain at a given time, members of the Community are locked away in Cells and Prisons every day and sometimes without offences. Your looks are enough cause for concern and the perpetual fear of waking up to traumatic experiences such as people vanishing without a trace and in extreme cases people dying without a known cause. A community where the Police never finds the culprit in murder cases.

He doesn’t want to think that they have been forgotten by the Government because that would be tantamount to sentencing legions of generations into perpetual physical and emotional pain. He even recalled hearing the President in the recent state of the Nation Address the other day on his old President TV reassuring them of good times ahead.

It must come to pass! This is non-negotiable. The government must pull them from their predicament and there shall be no more sixteen and Seventeen year old proud mothers who do not know a thing about babies neither will there be ladies bleaching their skins any longer. They need good schools like any other community because the fight for survival has become global. They must also celebrate birthdays and take vacations just like his friends from the other side of town.   

No! He is not a coward as his friends from the other side of town like to think. They only front because they don’t know what it takes to be at the battle front by default; just by virtue of your bloodline. He is not always running around and through the community because he has athletic prospects. It’s because he has seen enough trouble to last him a lifetime and tired of having one more. Unlike them, no one will come for him should he be whisked away so none of their taunts will get to him neither will his new accolade of a Running Man  deter him from sticking to his guns. 

And until these things have been provided somehow to drastically change things considerably and to level the playing field for him and his friends from the far end of town, he will be running with all the speed he can gather home, to his room – the only place he can find peace and he doesn’t care if his perceived cowardice or actions are justified. Infact, he must run until he finally runs out of town.