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

Sensational Edem to Go'getem

I enjoy being a critic, i.e. to observe and study situations to offer differing or lacking perspectives to appear more intelligent than the initiator(s) but I have decided to do something different today – to take time off to sing the praise song of one of the sensational and versatile acts of our time, the VRMG’s Edem, before the eulogies starts trickling in.

Swagnificent Edem in a happy mood

I have micro blogged a couple of times on Twitter and on my Facebook page about the rapper who has refined his brand from Ayigbe Edem to Edem, but I am of the conviction that dedicating a full blog on the heels of the rapper’s ability to win the Best International Act at the just ended Black Canadian Awards in far away Canada would be timely and proper.

Edem beats the likes of Mafikizolo from South Africa, Davido, Yemi Alade and Oritse Femi, all of Nigeria and Eddy Kenzo from Uganda among other African artistes from other parts of the continent over the weekend to become the crowned King of the Black Community in Canada. 

Just like I predicted for other enduring Acts, Edem was promising with his official debut as soon as he stepped on the scene and caught up with everyone like a wildfire in a dry season and has lived up to the billing over the years by featuring both local and international acts.

The award winning rapper and singer whose recently launched album ‘Books and Rhymes’ features dope songs waxed with beautiful storylines, literary prose, watertight lyrics and good compositions deserves a special mention for his immense contribution to shaping the musical landscape of Ghana. This recognition for me should even be a notch higher considering the fact that as a poster child for VRMG, the rapper who raps mostly in Ewe, defied the odds and made a breakthrough when other rappers could barely string words together, let alone over beats.

Edem, who cannot be exactly touted as the torchbearer of the Ewe rap has however worked hard to pay his dues by putting Ewe rap on the map of both hip life and hip hop genre and has quickly risen to become the one to inspire all the aspiring Ewe rappers who are seeking to cement his legacy through the lingua.

Edem, in one of his performances feat. Gemini, a Dancehall Act

The VRMG Poster child who does Reggae, Hip Hop, Dancehall and Hip life is by far one of the most versatile artistes in Ghana with strong collaborative pieces that touches on all facets of life and a convincing force to reckon with as far as the music industry in Ghana is concerned. The funny Volta Regime Entertainer who won best album of the year, best directed video with ‘the one’ and Afro pop song of the year 2015 under review, exudes intelligence and depth if his lyrics and compositions are anything to go by. 

To this end, Edem is incontrovertibly the forte of Ewe rap music by being the first to cross country beyond Africa and the musical ambassador representing the Volta region while still making inroads into the international scene where he’s had several nominations, some of which he eventually won. He has three studio albums to his credit namely 'Volta Regime' , 'Mass Production' and 'Books and rhymes' Edem is more than a rapper and a force that will not stop until his work is done. Kudos Edem for blazing the trail and while having solace in the fact that the ghetto will rise one day.

Writer tweets @vilejah

...Of floods, fire and brimstones.

I have not been inspired to write for your reading pleasure or torture thereof in a while because the system I speak to, seem so resilient and fortified by its unrepentant folks but I am compelled on this black day in the history of Ghana to pass a few comments.

This morning while observing my usual meditation, I was inspired from the words of the Legendary Robert Nesta Marley’s “Many more will have to suffer, many more will have to die” to pen to whom it may concern that the death toll we recorded last Wednesday night into the wee hours of Thursday as a result of the torrential downpour in our nation, Ghana, may just be a precursor to what is to come. My view!

I was so livid when I managed to wake up somewhere in the countryside to the macabre images that were splashed all over, thanks to social media and I knew shit has hit the fan which made me somewhat indifferent to all the telltales that were being churned out by any social media account holder. May their souls rest in perfect peace.

I hardly know what really the cause was, but I don’t want to believe that we are an ungrateful lot who pray for the rains to come only to turn around to accurse God for the mayhem that visits with our requests. I also think what happened at Circle was avoidable but for a few greedy folks who wanted to line their pockets at the expense of the nation and rightfully so if you quantify the loss and I will outline why I feel so strongly about my conviction.

Even though our attitude as a people underlies all the factors that contribute to these bizarre happenings anytime the rain sets in, I would first attribute it to leadership crisis. Our leaders have woefully failed us by by-standing while the laws, regulations and by-laws lie fallow on their dusty shelves. They hardly enforce the law because the buck stops nowhere. No one to ascertain that the right things are done and rarely are people held accountable; our bane.

The second factor is over-monetization of the system, such that, we have thrown our values to the dogs. By all means, do anything to make money even if it’s despicable and inhumane because it is the only way to be glorified in our society. If you are very observant, you would realize that Fuel filling stations have sprung and are springing in every nook and cranny in our settlements and even in the big cities which is not the way to go. I am of the view that we need more fuel to power the nation but I beg to differ on the proliferation of fuel stations even though I stand to be corrected. 

Growing up in my area, Chantan, near New Achimota, I had one bitter experience which makes me bemoan the powers that be. The only football park where all the community members come together to recreate was sold to ONE PERSON TO MAKE MONEY. He turned the place into a filling station, which eventually allowed the devil to set in to find jobs for those who found themselves idle. Today, some of them are languishing in jail for peddling in one drug usage or the other, petty thievery and what have you.

Thirdly, the Permit issuing authorities should bow down their heads in shame for selling every small opening in our areas of settlements to be transformed into gas and petrol filling stations which are highly inflammable. How many times are these setups going to explode too destroy lives and properties before we take drastic measures that these setups cannot be situated at places where people inhabit? Sadly, the truth is the community members cannot be careful at all times so it behooves the authorities to sit up and do something good that will outlast them for once. The laws should be enforced somehow because we do not want to wake up to these gruesome happenings. They are daunting on our national psyche and scary to say the least.

I have seen many buildings marked ‘STOP WORK, PRODUCE PERMIT BY AMA’ that have seen the light of day after a few visits to the office. What changed to warrant the approval of such buildings to be built?

Fourthly, our civic institutions must sit up to educate the people as mandated by the very powers that established them. They should educate the people that demolishing structures that are situated on waterways or on roads does not mean that they cannot live in Accra if that is what they want by all means necessary. It only means, they should relocate for the greater good of all. It only means that we are gate-keeping for the generations to come. It only means that we are poised on doing what is right. It only means that we want to commit to something greater than ourselves.

Fifthly, the government must pass a law to ban fuel filling stations to desist from allowing people to park their cars at their premises. That way, when mayhem visits against all odds, only a few casualties will be recorded which we can contain as a nation. Just as people are admonished to have a verandahs before acquiring monkeys, people buying cars should consider where to park them to avoid being adjoining explosives when fire and flood decides to inflame.

Sadly, I have been tossing the sixth point in my mind for a long time without an answer even before this tragedy erupted and I guess it’s time to be radical in our approach. To use the bottom-up approach, I would like to know what is the use of Assembly men and women in our society? When I was growing up, I recall Assembly heads organizing communal labor which brings together every member in the community every one Saturday in a month where gutters were desilted, streets and corners were swept and kept squeaky clean, so what happened? 

Truth of the matter is, Ghana has most of her priorities misplaced; in that, we have to wait for a massive sum of 200 people to die and many more displaced and livelihoods shelved, for those who lost breadwinners through the raging inferno to expend Gh¢60million, and as though that is not enough, to declare three days of productivity to mourning their departed souls. And then what?

How much more are we going to dole out to the dead should a disaster of such magnitude happen again and how many more days is the state going to declare when we could prevent all these self-afflicted catastrophes that are far-fetched from natural disasters?

It is even unfortunate when these so-called experts are arrayed on our TVs and radios to tell us what could have been done. Where were they when these politically incorrect structures were being erected all over the place and the least said about the print and the electronic media who are supposed to hold fort for the ordinary man, the better. The rhetoric is helping no one, somebody should crack the whip and rein us into line since a little force and brute can get things right. 

Writer tweets @vilejah

Fallible gods

Thanks for life, the wishful thoughts, the hour glass and so on…

Yeah! So many things to be thankful for, but can we?
Do we?
Not when we are only spurred on by the lesions

 

Admittedly, the last time was not the last time
I have come to admit that I am human and fallible
I have fallen and not able
Disabled

 

You constrict and leave me frail with fracture
A total knockoff that always misrepresents my posture
My dented frame, shaking frailly in its structure
So unwilling to go on but for the big picture

 

To unshackle myself from the haunted past
I dare concentrate on the lessons and blessings
And be thankful for the gunpowder in my hourglass
For the sun sets even in Paradise

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The writer tweets @vilejah

Nigeria's Elections and Matters Arising

It’s the aftermath of Nigeria’s successful elections even though the real or imagined turmoil is yet to settle and these happenstances seem to have a daunting impression on the body politic of Ghana.  Aside economic relations that have binded the two countries together and fact that they are all west African countries, I am not able to draw any line between the unsubstantiated inferences that are flying about.

According to some observers and social commentators who mostly align with the main opposition party; the New Patriotic Party (NPP), the final results of Ghana’s General election which comes off in 2016 is just the true and exact reflection of what happened in far away Nigeria. The erroneous and oversimplified assertion which leaves no margin of error only makes one want to ask if these people are really serious about governing our ailing state that needs timely redemption.

Admittedly, Ghana is not doing well and requires a formidable opposition that can flaw the modus operandi of the ruling government and offering better alternatives thereof. An opposition that will put forward, realistic issues that will bring everybody to the table and a better campaign message that will translate into a beacon of hope to the hopeless and finally a can-do person we can all rally around to move us out of the quagmire we find ourselves in, but if people go about touting some bogus analysis that won’t fly, then I am tempted to think that the opposition is not ready to take over the reins of governance from our dead goat of a President.

For crying out loud, how can folks even come out with analysis such as, Buhari won the presidency at 72 and so is Nana Akufo Addo by next year at 72 and while Jonathan is already 58, Mahama is yet to hit 58 by next year? While they are both known to take over the reins of power from their bosses after their demise in office, the PDP and NDC of Ghana are symptomatic of the umbrella as their emblems, so by inference, APC, a Socialist party is NPP and Nana Addo, the same as Muhammadu Buhari. Additionally their respective opponents, Jonathan and Mahama have both been alleged to preside over massive corruption, mismanagement of the economy and bad governance which makes the plot Grande.

I shudder at these porous analysis because it looks like that is where the coincidence starts and ends and Nigeria’s elections outcome has got nothing on Ghana’s Presidential elections come next year. These people who think Buhari’s win is a precursor to Nana Addo’s win simply because of a handful coincidences have also forgotten that the political terrain in Nigeria and it’s demographics is far different from that of Ghana and whereas Jonathan woefully failed to contain the actions of the insurgents, Boko Haram, John Mahama has nothing to contend with except the chronic dumsor which has always bedeviled Ghana anyway.

Conversely, these impoverished thoughts have blinded the commentators to forget that the 72year old Buhari is more astute and agile than the 71year old Nana Addo and cannot really be compared to, in terms of health and zest to do the work at the Presidency. It is also noteworthy that Buhari has been a Major General in the army before and comes on as a hopeful candidate to restore peace and to quell down the rampant death, arsons and insecurity as a result of the insurgence of its people. They have also forgotten that as someone who comes from the North, he succeeded in garnering support from the Muslims who almost outnumbers other religious sects combined. And if Buhari has once been a Prime Minister through a Coup d’état, how realistic are these comparisons by comparing Nana Addo to him as though he has also executed a coup before? 

In the same vein, they have forgotten that the sterling performance of the Ex-Army General and

someone who has once being a President speaks for itself while Nana Addo is still contending his Lawyer Status or yet to convince all and sundry that he was called to the Bar? They have also forgotten that unlike Buhari, who is a Muslim, the two main contenders on our terrain are both Christians and are bound to split votes on that score. What more? Buhari has not side stepped the constitution to impose women on their constituents at the expense of their male counterparts or has not issued a caveat to the Ibos not to contest elections in the Yoruba dominated areas, thus denying aspirants and other sympathizers, their constitutional rights to enjoin in anything.

Why has age even become an issue in our political discourse if the constitution has not placed a limitation on it? Are we bereft of ideas and issues that will see us progress? And if there is anything to go by, barring other things, shouldn’t old age be synonymous to wisdom? Methinks it is time we as a people drop this age factor in our body politic to rather focus on abilities and capabilities?

We are already disappointed by the government of the day for not providing the basic necessities that will ensure better socio-economic lifestyles of its citizens but it gets a lot more painful when the opposition to check them comes on with this voodoo analysis and knee jerk reaction that does not stand the test of time. It is even more painful when all they seem to do is to be shifting goalposts and dancing in circles which will otherwise make most of the people who are bedfellows with the NDC  not hesitate to sleep in with the incumbent which will eventually give a closure to Nana Addo’s political career. 

In other words, we have gone past these armchair kinds of Politics, so the Politics in a bid to coming clean and taking the people serious should refrain from all these gimmicks and compose verifiable messages that Ghanaians can identify with, because the comparisons and differences in the two candidates who seems worlds apart can go on unend. And while these similarities are being bandied around, have we also thought about the aspirations of Ghanaians which may not necessarily be like that of the Nigerians?

Going forward, can we agree to play with the thorns on the roses and tell ourselves that the child’s play is enough?

writer tweets @vilejah  

Life...

Life...

where you are giving;
or being given
just to make things even

strife...

times you hit the road and everything's steep
make a detour home to bed but can't sleep
tick-tock and nothing is worth the keep

Rife...

Tills all day only to find empty, your fills
chagrined and livid 'cos you can't pay the bills
then you stride away from it all hoping for auto-fills;
 
providence!

The writer tweets @vilejah

The Rising sphinx

With his itchy and picky fingers to touch the right spots, wandering eyes to illuminate every pore of the hairy brown and spotless skin and lecherous mind to ravish the poor and excited dame who lay on his high density mattress waiting to be devoured, the world can go take a hike in the Himalayas, a certain Asiedu can wear a corset and the economy of Ghana can crumble into shambles and he doesn’t care.

It was their first time and they have both looked forward to a time like this.  A beginning of a time that will transcend time itself; and a lingering memory thereof. Time, so right like the Republicans, mood on point like a nipple and psyche, so hyped and sustained to last as many bouts as they are willing to go. 

If there was anything called love at first sight, theirs would be one of the prototypes. The aura around them, so entrusting that no word has yet been scrutinized nor subjected to an iota of doubt. Suffice it to say, there were no trust issues. Love, so strong and binding like an adhesive, erases all forms of abuse and hardships when one falls in one. All he is preoccupied with is how to make her happy – maybe, just make himself happy.

He inched closer and breathed down her neck, exuding a warmth they will later talk about when this budding hot and sizzling ménage a deux is done and over with. It was time to give this whole tease a closure. A time to please.

With a renewed desire, he traces her lobes with a couple of fingers, down her nape to the region of her turgid and filled breasts. He cups the handful mound into his sizeable hand and slowly tightens his grip until it did not make any more sense just because he could. Just because he had to, so he can be sure it was really happening. He did because he wanted to find out the boundaries of his limitations; how far he could explore on before she asks him to stop or even asks him to intensify his antics and her feelings thereof.

He props up and slips his other hand up her thighs into the silky fabric of the lady and goes straight to her triangle in-between which sends a tingling sensation through her. She further entrusts herself into his bosom for more of his magical touches. Contrary to the awkwardness she thought, she finds herself enjoying the moment, the intense desire, his touches and fact that she feels fulfilled. To hell with those who say life is not good.

For him, it is yet another moment to revise his stance on the womenfolk. Somebody is about to rate women yet again and he is cocksure of his feelings. He was sure it was love at work. He did not even want to think that it was the cloud nine factors. His ego won’t allow him to think in that vein even though the thought brought shame to his face indicating a flash of truth. The bolting rush was so negating that his surety just went limp in an instant, probably in the same manner it arose. 

He went blank and with a sudden uncontrollable contraction of his muscles, he squeezed the breasts tighter which sent a painful spasm through her. She feels her body rip apart, opens her eyes and dies emotionally from the look she saw on his face and fact that his essential limb has suddenly gone limp.

Big deal? 

Yeah! They say it casts a daunting feeling on the psyche of women – gives them an impression of undesirableness but this couldn’t be same. He loves her and she knows that. And whoever says sustaining a hard on for a lady is the only way they can feel loved anyway. He was only fighting his own devils. He was seeing things – reel of images that are so vivid as though he was reliving them. All his escapades playing on a giant screen before his eyes; in his mind, maybe.

He was even engulfed more with the realization that his feelings for her won’t endure. He knew that too well because this is how he felt towards Bomba, Annabel, Stella, Flora, Dzifa and all the other ones before her. For once, he thought his feelings for her were different and real but it was a lie; a façade. 

Would he ever love?

*raps on the door*

The rap was so loud, untimely and intruding that it made him cringe.

Is it death himself at the door?

As much as he would love to act dumb to the raps on the door, he also needed some respite, coupled with the fact that loud music was playing from the room, indicating that someone was inside, so, he quickly wore his boxer shorts which he pulled from the pile of clothes on the bed, musters courage and answers to the unending raps on the door.

“Who dat?” He asked like the boss as he fidgets with the door only to find out it was a man and a woman clutching bags in the hollow of their shoulders.

“Excuse me Sir, do you have some time to talk about Jesus Christ. We are from the Kingdom hall of the Jehovah’s Witness”

 The writer tweets @vilejah