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Dream

of peculiar flowers/like sound of laughter/fluid in words you could spell/only after lettering down/libations on territories/virgin with mystic bites/of your footsteps/creating gardens/of hope beyond tales

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Not Love



It was the line both kindness and idiocy shared—that was what confused our meetings. I took my action for kindness and she saw idiocy, the kind imposed by love. A love that didn’t exist between us, at least not until I said “I could easily love her…” and she told everybody I had said that and in her mind we were in some kind of a relationship already. What she didn’t know was that my ‘idiocy’ extended to everyone else in that same measure. So, I became a flirt and unfaithful in her manic eyes. She needed me to be hers. I cared as deeply for women less beautiful, less educated, and less complicated as she and that offended her. If she could make me crave her and only her, then maybe then will be the time to dump me in our imaginary relationship. It was all confusing, this woman and what she was doing in my life or me in hers.

She complained if I called often, she cried when I didn’t. I was wrong in every action I took, until I decided I would let her have what she wanted but she didn’t want anything from me. That was what she said when I asked her, “nothing.”

“Then you should have no use for me,” I said.

“What do you mean? How about me, don’t you want anything from me? Don’t you want me in your life?”

“Actually…”

Before I could finish my sentence, she had grabbed me by the arm and thrown me on her chest. I had no idea, she was that strong. Why did she act so girly for someone bearing such strength? If she could pull me, and I was twice as heavy as her, why did she scream in a high-pitched voice when she saw a wall gecko? Her lips were pressed hard on mine. All adults should have “don’t stop” in their vocabulary and it should belong to the ‘overly used words’ bit of the vocabulary. That was what I was thinking but,

“stop, what are you doing?!”

Is what came out of my mouth instead, I know I am such a jellyfish. The good thing is that she didn't stop.
She tried to push me on her couch but she missed. My ass hit hard on the floor before my head did. The sound of my head crashing to her tiled living room floor must have echoed in the neighbor’s flat. She pounced on me with a giggle and tore my shirt open.

“I’ll fuck you and make you mine.” She said.

I was in some sort of a twilight zone at that point; her voice sounded ten blocks away. I could feel the moist from the back of my head. I knew I had cut my skin, I could smell blood. I finally lifted my hand to touch hers on my chest and that is all I can remember.

According to her, everything I have just told you is made up. She didn't kiss me, ‘she would never do that without my permission’. She couldn't push me to the ground, where was she going to get that kind of strength from?

I had come to her flat with milk she had requested for. I had brought one for myself and was drinking from the bottle when I got there. I spilled my milk and in rush to get a mob, I slipped and fell. That was her story.

Maybe the fall has affected the way my memory, she said. I knew she was lying but it was my word against hers, right? And I had no plans of telling anybody anyway, especially my girlfriend. I had promised my girlfriend I was never going to see this woman anymore. So why was I sending her milk? If I wasn't sending her milk as I remember of what happened, what was I doing there?
She was sitting by my bedside holding my hands. Her’s were sweaty. I asked her to go, she said she wouldn't go. My girlfriend had called that she was on her way over. We needed a good story to tell before she got here.

“I got a phone call from you, your stomach was upset and you were dehydrated. You asked me to get you pills from the pharmacy. When I got to you house, you had puked all over, I didn't see it, I slipped and fell, hitting my head hard to the ground.”
“But that’s not true,” she said.

“Nobody knows the truth. That is what we are going to say.”

"Is your girlfriend an idiot? She will know I haven’t been sick, look at me, do I look sick to you?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" I asked taking my hand from her sweaty hands.

"Why don’t you just tell her the truth?"

"What truth? I am lactose intolerant; I don’t take milk. I will not be caught drinking milk especially in the afternoon. We both know your story is fiction."

“Baby, are you okay?” My girlfriend walks in and hugs me on the hospital bed.

“oh my god I was so worried when you weren't picking up my calls, are you okay, are you going to be okay, what happened?” she hadn't yet said a word to her.

“I slipped and broke a little skin at the back of my head, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh my god where?”

“the back of my head”

“no, I mean where did you slip?”

“Oh by the road side, I was buying phone credit and she called me, pointing at the unwanted guest in the room, I was trying to jump the gutter to say hello to her at the other side of the road and I slipped on a pure water sachet.

“Aw, my poor baby, I am so sorry, what are the doctors saying?”

"I lost a little blood but I’ll live."

“Hi, thanks for being here for us, but you can go now, I’m sure you would like to rest” she finally spoke to the other human being in the room.

“You don’t have to say thanks, it was my fault in a way, if I didn't ask for the milk… I mean the phone credit, there would have been no falling into the gutter”

“Baby, you fell into a gutter?”

“No, yes, I mean I don’t remember”

“oh my poor baby, are you hurt anywhere else apart from your head?”

“yeah, I hit my ass hard on the tile”

“Which tile?”

“I mean the tarred road, I am a bit confused about the whole thing now, my love, I am not sure exactly what happened I am just happy you are here.”

“I know” she leaned in a kissed me.

She tried to button up my shirt but there were no buttons left on to work with.

“what happened to your shirt?”

I looked at her and she looked at her.

We knew she knew.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Stank with Sweat





The brave face
I wear is never washed
It stinks with sweat
my mother’s and mine
She taught me how to put it on
to fit my wobbly bones
to be the face that you would know
My brave face
has a smile
it lasts for thirty seconds
and plays back after a minute
My brave face
belongs to my family
I owe it to them
and to my children
the ones I planned to have with you
But you think I do not feel
You should see my eyes buttoned on
my brave face
my brows frown like a powerless child
to remind you that
I am tough
I can show you my face now
how it’s stained with blood
And you would realize
my brave face is what you want to love

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

In the middle of my body



The thing that sets me free is caged
covered with skin and breastbone
The thing that sets me free is sore
overworked, stretched beyond today
and when it beats I feel the past
and when I sleep it runs without me
My heart won’t stop
Going places without my charge
Tattooing names in her pulse
Controlling my mind
Moving my feet
Showing me smiles in the face of pain
My heart is sore and I can’t touch it,
maybe you should.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

A new relationship



I’ve gotten too close to my tears
It misses me and comes out to see me
when I’m eating
when I’m sleeping
when I’m fucking

I’ve gotten too close to my tears
It leaves trails on my skin
so I won’t forget it
It wets my memory with pain
Two rivers running down my cheeks
I can’t swim, I can’t drown, I can’t stay dry
It floods my heart with ache

I have become my tears
It’s all I have to show
It’s everything I feel
It’s the end I see


My tears have taken over
my body my heart my being
I died yesterday
When my tears got closer than you
stayed longer than you
was more sincere than you
slept with me and not you
I am not here anymore

Saturday, January 5, 2013

In this too much School


We learnt how to flash aged feces with a liter of water. The trick was in the angle of the bucket. You didn’t need force, only precision, and a liter of water could carry away any amount of feces leaving you with brown-yellow-green residual, depending on what kind of food produced the flashed shit.

“This school is too much, why?”

From behind our window he screamed I was more frighten than the day the doctor had to part my tights in insert cold instruments there. It was more frightening than when I thought that maybe, a part of the creature was still stuck inside me, maybe an eye, or a limb, I wasn’t sure but it felt like not everything came out. There was something remaining in my stomach, for I was sure it wasn't still in my womb, maybe it fell outside the womb onto some other organ, at least in my mind there was something remaining. A week after after not being able to feel that my body was all mine. I went to the doctor.

“Can I see what you took out?” I asked.

It had been discarded that same day. Now I would ever know. The doctor wrote down a number on a prescription form. Go and see Dr. Nkansa, she will help you.

“Why?”

“Just someone to talk to, she is one of Ghana’s finest psychologists, go talk to her, okay? Tell her i asked you to come.”

“I am not crazy, I am perfectly fine, I just wanted to be sure your removed everything. I feel there is … never mind, you think I’m crazy.”

I left the prescription form on his table and turned to the door.

“Do you go to church?” he asked.

“ yes, once a year, on the 31st night vigil, I love the candles, my family is catholic.”

“ok,” he said.

He took another prescription form and wrote a number on it. Here is the number for Father Amuzu, he is both a Father and a psychologist, he is a very friendly and he isn’t based at the Legon hospital, you said the other time that you didn’t like hospitals. He has an office in the Mensah Sarbah Hall on campus, so you don’t have to go to a hospital. Take both numbers and use whichever you prefer but use one. And listen, I took everything out, it’s not like it was shredded, I took it out whole, you have nothing to worry about.”

I left the consultation room with a nod. And then I came back and said thank you. He only smiled. Nobody knew what I had done and nobody knew what had happened to me four months ago.

“This school is too much, why?”

I didn’t have to see him to know it was him. I caught an immediate fever and begun to bleed, I could smell the blood from down my vagina.

“This school is too much, why?”

My roommates stopped talking about the last person who went to the toilet and didn’t flash right. One of them was upset.

"the person didn’t even fill the one liter cook bottle with water for the next person to use."

They went to the window to watch him. They hadn’t noticed I had caught a fever. The lights were off and they had always said that I whispered in my sleep. I was crying and mumbling something, I think “stop.” They must have taken my sobs for whispers.

“This school is too much, why?”

He used to be a student in the zoology department. He got crazy while trying to cram for his final exams in 2004, and he has been living on campus ever since. Others say one of his cousins texted him about the sudden death of his mum while he was on his way to a beach party. He started talking to himself and to no one else. Nobody knows the true story. Sometimes you don’t see him on campus; no one knows where he goes. Then he appears noisy all through the night. He has been captured and sent to Accra psychiatry many times. Campus is where he wants to be. One of the girls put the light on.

“ei, what is wrong with her? She is shivering, bring water”

“Get a taxi,” another girl said.

“where are we going to get a taxi by this time.”

“We need to take her to the hospital. If she dies in this room, I can’t stay here anymore.”

“God forbid! how can you say something like that? I’m sure it’s just malaria. Don’t you have a friend who has a car on campus?

“Keep the towel on her head”

“She is bleeding.”

“ei maybe she has internal bleeding”

“Internal bleeding doesn’t show on the outside”

“oh I hear that sometimes, it does wai, my aunty died of internal bleeding after she had a car accident and thought she was fine so didn’t go to the hospital.”

“She hasn’t had an accident, she has been in the room most of today”

“you guys, we need to take her to the hospital.”

No one spoke to me or tried to find out what was happening to me by asking me. It was all speculations. One of the girls who climbed up her bed to pray, was convinced I was under a spiritual attack. It wasn’t that I could have answered if they had asked me anything, perhaps they knew this. I don’t know how it happened but I woke up in the morning at Legon hospital under drips. There was nobody in the room. There was on empty bed on my right. I tried to get up, I wasn’t ill, I was just afraid. I need to get back to my room, but first I needed to figure out how to pull the needles that connected with the drips out of my skin. I carried the drips with me and tried to walk out the door.

“This school is too much, why?”

He followed me? I caught a fever again and fell head outside the door, feet in the room. I didn’t blackout, I was just too afraid to be able to stand on my feet. Five security men, carried him pass my door.

“This school is too much, why? This school is too much, why? This school is too much, why?”

A nurse, walked pass me to him.

“call Dr. Nkansa?, he needs a tranquilizer, officers put him on the bench and nurse Grace, the student they brought last night is lying out her room, see what’s happening with her…”

She saw me? ‘This school is too much, why?’ was all that was left to ring in my head. Nurse Grace came at me angry.

“where did you think, you were going, why are you students so troublesome, one person has smoked wee and he is crazy, you too what is wrong with you heh? There is no child in Ghana anymore; all of you instead of studying are walking around with adult worries.”

She tried to lift me up, I was too heavy for the tiny nurse. She called the security men to help her. I couldn’t believe the same hands that had touched the mad man was going to touch me.

“No No No.”

“No, what?”

“please leave me alone”

“you want to sleep on the floor?, please officers, carry her for me”

Two of the men lifted me off the floor onto the bed and left the room. The nurse took my temperature and looked for something under my eyes. I don’t know if she found what she was looking for but she wrote something down on a card.

“Are you in pain?”

I ignored her question, turning to the empty bed on my right. She pressed my abdomen and watched my face carefully. My face was blank.

“Do you have a headache?”

The officers walked into my room carrying the mad man, he was now quiet, almost asleep.

“No, you can’t put him here” I said.

The officers turned to look at me and then at the nurse.

“Please put him down, he has been tranquilized, he will fall asleep very soon, you would have to take him to Accra Psychiatry after eight hours.”

“Auntie Nurse, can’t the hospital transfer him? It is not our job to do that ooo, we are security men on campus and he was disturbing some students so we brought him here, please, we can’t do anything more.”

“oh my God what is wrong with you?”

The nurse asked trying to turn me over to check where the blood was coming from. I was bleeding again.


Thursday, November 15, 2012

The 7th December Palm wine






Natural valleys appear like mountains
for party men who reach to greet feet of busy hands
when thumps are the flags that move out, in, or onward

Our memories leap in the air as indelible liberty
wanes in the space from one to four
but the right to lie, to deny and to beg is again ingrained

We forget daughters and sons who balloted with a modest proposal to count
in matters of bills and policies and cake— from the national bakery

Our thumps may have fractured the future,
nudged aspirations into despair,
voted here instead of there
but we will not break our bones,
disregard the signs or forget to pray

We brew the December palm wine!
we’ll waits to savor the strength
what we taste, we shall spit or sip some more
and we will hear no songs louder than our heart beat

Friday, November 9, 2012

Charley! —A word with a thousand meanings



“Charley” commonly spelt as “Chale” is a complete statement, you don’t agree? Charley basically means buddy/friend, right, but it also means “I know what you mean”. Charley, means “stop it.” Charley could mean “let’s go.” Charley charley charley could be decoded as, “can you believe this?”, “I’m not feeling this” or “I’m feeling this”, “you know?” So Charley, like “I’m off this”. Charley!, “I am happy”. Charley, “shocked.” Charleeey can be “I know what you are up to” or “I’m in trouble!” oh Charley!, “I’m disappointed,” “I empathized.”

It all depends on when and how you say it. Most indigenous Ghanaian languages are tonal; like in twi “papa”- fun “papa” -father “papa” -good and there is my favorite Ga sentence, “l3 l3 l3l3 l333” which means, it’s true the ship is large. You need the perfect pitch and charley you are in!

So how the hell do we belittle such ingenuity and music in a language that we have made, inherited, will leave behind for future generations.
Charley, I shock sef! We for go more local, you no dey see? You d3r I go catch you laRRa kraa wai. ;)