The strange bedfellows; Love and Lust

We make so much noise about love and hardly talk about lust and that is a fact! We relegate lust to the background at the expense of love; meanwhile the latter is just a medium through which we subtly or consciously express our lust.

We like to lie to ourselves to deepen the mystery simply because it makes us feel good about ourselves. It is even assuring to think of ourselves as important in other people’s lives by continually reminding ourselves that they love us when we don’t even know what their definition of what love really is. We don’t know what people mean by love because love is intangible and relative according to each other’s experiences and expectations but we all can at least define lust and get it right. For instance, most relationships that first went through the bedroom before ending up in marriage had a lusting factor attributed to them. That is not love, it was lust expressed through love and other attachment deficiencies…

We consciously or unconsciously lust with so many people without an iota of love. That intense feeling we conceive when we see and feel attracted to people from the opposite sex. The aura and the attraction of their alluring persona which activates our pervasive minds to quickly or slowly undress and have sex with them in different ways; ways we cannot even make manifest even if we are given a comfortable turf to make it happen.

Society kind of abhors those who explicitly talks about sex and even label them as perverts while dwelling on love because we as a people without a doubt feels comfortable talking about the things we don’t understand and can actually speak of. 

How do you love someone and still cheat on them whether it only entailed flirts, kissing and sex itself? How then do people agree to derive or give sexual favors and still claim, they don’t love them or are just friends with benefits? Again, how does too much or lack of sex constraints a relationship that is built on love and I have heard people praise pink lips unend and all these do not qualify as love in my opinion. I have heard folks say and do all kinds of things that set your mind thinking what really the deal is?

At this juncture, I think it is even safe to say love is just an idea because we only have an idea of what it is or should be while lust is the real deal because certainly, a sample of five people defining love will result in five different definitions whereas same cannot be said for lust simply because the latter is factual and precise. 

Consequently, most people have indulged in sex without openly discussing it for once except being equipped with all the hazy and wrong notions about what love is, which eventually lands them in rock-strewn arenas - getting both wrong. 

My bother however is why we like to relegate the pervasive and fundamental ideas that wholly make us while cloaking ourselves with ideas that are not sustainable and substantial to say the least and where do we draw the fine line between love and lust? Thus far, if we all cannot have one simple definition for what love is or should be just like lust, then no one has the moral rights to actually advise or coax another to love their way.

And just so you know, what people mean when they express their love for you is “aside everything you know and think about love, can we have sex?” and this subtle means of expressing our lustful desire is not going to stop anytime soon until we as a society have eroded the ambiguous usage of the term love and fine-tune the role lust plays in these love-lust dichotomy.  

Follow the writer on Twitter @vilejah

 

The Regressives

I see a melee of regressives
hurrying back into the future
boasting and priding in adhoc features
with no direction nor perfect pictures
A cue signifying their illusion is real

The simple and good; their last resorts
The bad and the complex; their ideal slots
Reverence for the superficial; their delight
Their purpose; fizzled, blurred and hazy
With no desire to nurture their sixth senses

A legion of leaders without willing followers
Goons who only wage war for the sake of peace
From their gated abodes, they protest with ease
Terrified, as they stare at the petrified rebels
heckling free men in shackles...

I am not leaving because i stopped living
Neither will i stop because i stopped moving
I am rewriting the scenes to avert the common sins
To bring to the fore, the damage and the carnage
Until everyone is freed from their raged anger

For their respite, they will need expressive love
To break their silence in the face of freedom of speech
To make the simple and good; their ideal slots
The complex and bad; their last resorts
And Get back to the basics to become progressives

Burying the Ghanaian in Peace!

Komla Dumor aka the Boss Player

It has been five days since Ghana; my beloved Country was thrown into a state of mourning.  Komla Afeke Dumor - touted as one of the Ace-Journalists to ever walk this part of the earth has passed on, into the yonder and the gripping shock is yet to free some of us from our inactive state, to probably continue from where we left off.

Tributes from sitting and past Presidents, notable and unknown persons from every nook and cranny have trickled in, amidst suggestions of all kinds for the man who could neither consent to nor disagree with them. But, from all indications available on social media, there is no disputing that, the man lived par excellence; a beacon for Africa and the world as a whole.

Even though I cannot say for a fact, if these suggestions are from authoritative sources such as a family spokesperson or from the Presidency, but, they have given me much to reflect on. Firstly, how every group or persons are trying to associate with the once British Broadcasting Corporation Broadcaster, despite, he was a peoples’ person. Secondly, the good-hearted people who are proposing that a fund is set for the upkeep of his Children or nuclear family and thirdly, those proposing that he is given a befitting state burial.

Apart from the clamouring from the general public, the Ghana Journalist Association has officially come out to propose a befitting state burial for the Boss Player and an established fund to cater for his survivors and the first question I found myself asking absentmindedly was “why?”

As a nation, I think this is another opportune time to reflect on our values and what should be held in high esteem. Do we have a policy which is known to all sundry as to who qualifies for a state burial and whose surviving family should benefit from such funds if any exists at all?

Does working for a leading international broadcasting Corporation or other multinational companies of that comparative stature qualifies one for such benefits? Is the benefit only limited to only the top echelon of the political circle? How long should one work in such capacities to be honored with such benefits or just getting there is enough? Exactly, where do we cut the fine line to avoid this habit of talking and denigrating the efforts of people when they are dead and gone?

This is where we are: deliberating on what to do with the mortal remains of Komla Dumor and how to manage his lots when we should be pre-occupied with what actually made him a bright shining star in a dark world and the journey thus far.

Mr. Komla Dumor interacting with Ex-US President, Bill Clinton

Ghana, like any other Country is made of different ethnic groups and by extension, different cultural practices which is usually binding on the individual, but I still believe we as a people can come to a consensus to have common grounds and say, when matters of this nature arises. The policy makers have to be circumspect and proactive in projecting their foresight even before we are confronted with the imminent situations.

Can we propose for the Government to take over funerals in this Country just as it wades in to seemingly alleviate aspects of our lives such as the National health Insurance scheme and other instituted social programs to take care of its citizenry or leave it as it were, where some people conveniently erect billboards for their departed?

How about the Government subsidizing funeral costs of Citizens or scheming funeral plans in tiers, so you and I will know our fate even before we decide to die? 

I know that, the aforementioned questions have cost implications and may further dig a hole in the state coffers, not to talk about how governance will be worsened with the incidence of skyrocketing tax falling on the individual, but all I am trying to say is we need a plan. 

There must be a plan!

And in the wake of Government taking over by subsidizing or organizing free burial for its citizens, how do we handle the agitations from family and friends who would be denied the opportunity to organize upscale funerals for their loved and departed ones, especially if they made more money in their lifetime?

There would also be cultural insurgents and gatekeepers who would be denied the chance to bury their royalties according to accepted norms, not to talk about the businessmen who would be denied revenue from privately organizing funeral for families but somehow, there must be some kind of uniformity.

We cannot continue to characterize the death of notable people who have contributed immensely on individual and national scales with such uproar and non-uniformity, because the least we could do is to allow them to rest peacefully.

To this end, I can only express my condolences to the bereaved family and close friends of Komla Dumor, who would definitely feel the loss on a very personal level.

R.I.P. Komla Afeke Dumor!

Fare thee well 

Xede nyuie!

  

The Storyteller

Things have never really been the same again. He went up North and she went down South. According to her, he has lost it. He has lost what she wants; the very thing that energizes her and brings her alive. She doesn't remember when they last had any quality time in a world where everything was quantified.

He was jarred and getting lost in his world; dealing with his devils. He was up against everything, except himself. He hasn't lost the magic that fixates her and hasn't lost the charm befitting a Prince, only, no one had told her that reality is harsh. She has shut her eyes to the occurrences around her and given up on life. However, she clung and became friends with hope; an attribute she needed so badly in that dire moment.

Hope will come around anytime, even uninvited. Hope tells her it was going to be alright. It also tells her to take it easy and hang in there. Lastly, hope assured her that, her man has not lost the magic of loving her the way she wanted, neither has he lost the art of telling her stories. Even though, she didn't believe, she smiled at the insight.

The insight energized her and brought back fond memories, so she reached out for her backpack and stuffed it with a Walkman, a pen and a paper, a couple of assorted fruit bonbons from the dining table  and her phone she had switched off all day. She was headed for their favorite spot at the beach to have a quiet time. For a change, she was going to do what she hasn't done before. She wants her man, and she is going to do everything, maybe, just something to have him.

She is going to try her hands at penning down her feelings in simple terms. She is no award winning writer. She is just a lover who wants things better than they were.

Just before she set out to write a sestet for him, she felt some eyes boring into her. She frantically looked around, but saw nothing, so she began writing.

My bony ebony
If only I could see u 
I would not be this blue
And we might just sail through 
just as wishes will not be horses 
I can never get over your kisses

As soon as she dotted the last sentence, the apparent feeling manifested. He has come looking for her, after calling her phone all day. He hugged her from behind and a combination of fear and a clout of mixed feelings of whether to be indifferent or hug back came to the fore. But before she could actually think, her body, spirit and soul has taken over reasoning, and she hugged back. He then pulled a mail envelope from the back pocket of his branded Akademiks denim Jeans, while the moment was still tensed up and he gently shoved it into her already opened hand.  "Here", and he started to walk away.

She quickly opened the envelope and shakily removed the pad  but it was tightly folded. She unfold,ed the first one and it was blank. Second one, and it was the same. These, coupled with the fact that the distance between them was widening was not amusing, she was becoming apprehensive. The suspense heightened till the fifth, which was coincidentally the last one and this had something scribbled on it.

I haven't lost my story telling abilities to u and I'm still your man. i will forever be your Prince Charming, and I want you to now and always be mine. Call me when you are ready and let's make up. Come see me and let's change the world!

And now, with her lit eyes, she didn't even know if she should just jolly after him or sit back and refine her poem for him.

2013 Facebook Awards

Dear Friends,

I have always wanted to present to you some 'friends' on my timeline who do more than just posting statuses or keeping up appearances. These personalities are more than just another 'man' in their chosen endeavors and I must say are very outstanding in what they do, and this has nothing to do with their shortfalls and successes outside Facebook.

Unequivocally, we all stand out once in a while but these fine brains whether latently or manifestly, are bound to draw you in consistently to at least, observe their opinionated stance on their perception of the world.

 Their uniqueness; borne out of the depth of their expressive thoughts and the tenacity that characterizes their projected ideas, thoughts and overwhelming persona is something you cannot refuse to be adamant about or overlook. I can only say that, their potentials, if harnessed well can help their immediate environs and Ghana as a whole out of its stalled quagmire. Simply, these are fine brains everyone should have as a friend on their timeline so as to have a peek on their walls from time to time.

Without much ado, it is time to present to you the exhaustive list of Fb personalities for the year 2013 under review:

WRITERS

Qouphy Appiah Obirikorang (satire, fiction, creative, non-fiction)

Nana Awere Damoah (satire, fiction, character sketches, non-fiction, news articles)

Kwame Gyan (editorials, opinions, non-fiction, complaints)

Nana Tsiwah Theophilus ( Transformational, Opinions, non-fiction)

Jude Edze Davids (Abstract, poetry, fiction, non-fiction, Anecdotes, character sketches)

Kojo Akoto Boateng (non-fiction, opinions)

Bright Simons (opinions, editorials, transformational, non-fiction)

Efo Dela (character sketches, poetry, comic strips, non-fiction

Kola nut (travelogues, non-fiction)

Zulkiffe Bare (humour, jokes, comic)

Gid Is (humour, jokes, comic)

Abubakar Ibrahim (news articles, opinions, reports, complaints)

Selorm Branttie (opinions, travelogues, transformational, complaints)

Jose-Marie katende (Anecdotes, fiction, non-fiction, satire, creative)

Ayimadu Theduke (creative, non-fiction)

Kofi Yankey (animal fiction, non-fiction)

Chris Worla Essikpe (complaints, opinions, non-fictions)

Andre Jnr (humour, jokes, comic)

Kofi Gbedemah humour, jokes, comic)

Kwabena Opoku -Agyeman (news articles, opinions, non-fiction)

Yvonne Amenuvor (opinions, non-fiction)

Ann-platinum (opinions, non-fiction)

Patriarch George (transformational, opinions, non-fiction)

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (poetry, non-fiction)

Maame AB (opinions, complaints, transformational, editorials, non-fiction)

Musah Mustapha (transformational, fiction, non-fiction)

Godfred Kofi Ofori (opinions, non-fiction)

Abdul hanan-confidence  (non-fiction, fiction

Benjamin Joe Danso (non-fiction, news articles)

Qwarme Erzuah (news articles)

Precious kweku Obeng (non-fiction, news articles)

Selasi Kuwornu (opinions, non-fiction)

Kwabena Is-Onbreak (non-fiction, poetry)

Samuel k. Obour (reports, news articles)

Auntie Adjeley (reports, news articles)

Bernadette Araba adjei (non-fiction)

Chinda ajebota (humor, jokes, comic)

Abaare Cletus (news articles, reports)

Michael Bokor (non-fiction, news articles, editorials)

Kwaku sonny (poetry, non-fiction)

Poetra Ama Asantewaa (Poetry)

Selikem Geni(satire, fiction)

Emeka Awere (non-fiction, poetry)

Manasseh Awuni Azure (news articles, editorials, reports, non-fiction)        

SPORTS (Tit-bits)

Manuel Castro

Manucho Maghandi

Seth Asiedu

Nii Aryee Qwaqwalanya

Maame Acey yamoah

George Sam

Isaac asempah

Nana hemaa osihene adiepena

Emmanuel nixon eshun

CONSCIOUSNESS

daBiggest Boss

Meester Sheriee

Shiela Dzifa Dorkenoo

Tlorm beEnie

Turkson richardson

Edem koku wotordzor

Ebenezer Mario gbormittah

Elorm c. Ahadzi

EVANGELISM

Stedem kwame ampeh

kobby ray

cornelius

larry martei

hiram elzerah Emmanuel

kingsley St John Enninful

bernadette araba adjei

Samuel dake

Seth senanu  kpodo

POLITICS

samuel fahren otoo

frank mandela bawumia

dela Coffie

kwesi Dawood

sam George

kofi Goka

kwame Gyan

PUBLICITY

Prez Al-Haj De Bunk

Kojo Akoto Boateng

Abubakar Ibrahim

kwame Gyan

Dan Ash

Nii adjieteh - socialGH

Jonas nyabor

Elorm beenie

Kennedy kenddiluv koffie

Abdullai isshak

s. gameli hamelo

PHOTOGRAPHY

Edem Asamany

Makafui Kpodo

UNASSUMING

Jonathan agyeman

Yaw duose

Prosper afuti

Esenam allen

Centy cathares

kwame Kekeli Bokpe

Francis Bokpe

RISING ICONS

Ike wan (fashion)

kofi Baldwin (knitting)

kush Elikem dotty (music)

ENTREPRENEURSHIP

Awura Abena Agyeman (fashion)

Empror’gyau (telecommunications)

Delasi Fafali Kpodo (clothing and textiles)

EmperorTonyi Senayah (footwears)

Owura Owoahene Acheampong

In the end, only three groups of people would be looked out for; those who make things happen, those who look on while they happen and those who come asking, "what the fuck went on". by all means, remember to be part of one. Thanks

Ps: criteria for the winners remains my sole prerogative :p

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!