drunk husbandMy friend Kobe has been around. Back in the day, he’d start his Friday night at Purple pub in Osu, where the booze was strong and cheap. He never stayed for longer than an hour, the real fun was elsewhere. He’d grind a little at Aphro, move to Boom, then return to Citizen Kofi in Osu. It was a summary of loud tracks, kaleidoscopic lights, cloud-smoke air, bare-clad women plus excess booze and loose morals. Sometimes, he’d go to Epo’s further down the road hungry. Their food and booze was much cheaper than in the clubs and they stayed open till dawn. That was usually the last point of call till he picked a drop home, all the way in Adenta. If he picked up a girl or a hooker (there’s usually little difference at that time of the night, at those places) he checked into the Blue Gate hotel or little Tokyo lodge and let lust reign.

But that was then. Now, he’s in the choir at his church. I call him the leashed beast and tease him about the havoc he could wreck in that small church choir if he should ever relapse. He tells me a lot about his past. I can tell he enjoys it because I’m always, always amazed. My pupils dilate, my lips part, my body leans in, like an enthralled kid hearing about ‘Madam Red High Heels’ for the very first time. Last week, he told me a story. It shook me. Read More The Drunken Husband.

Blog

Rebecca1I spotted the most beautiful woman last Saturday. I’d gone for a wedding at the Trade fair in Labadi, and everyone was moving to the reception on the lush lawn close by. Then I saw her smiling as she posed for a picture. There was something striking about her. As cliché as it sounds I felt we’d met before, she looked too gorgeous for me to have forgotten a previous encounter, but I still couldn’t place her.

Half an hour later, after the bride had thrown her bouquet and one of “all the single ladies’ had caught it, I noticed that the seat beside her had become vacant. I’m past the stage where I dilly dally about talking to a captivating girl, missing the chance and bashing myself for weeks after. After all, I have an impressive complimentary card, I’m no ‘likkle buoy’.

“Hi,” I said sliding into the chair beside her “you have the kind of weekend glory that makes the bride seem like a regular weekday.”

“Sorry?” she asked, genuinely baffled

“Ummn” I stuttered “Sorry. I should stop that…ummn, no no, I meant I shouldn’t have said that. I’m terrible at pick-up lines, somehow I imagined that’ll make you smile.” My palms were sweaty and I puffed out air like I’d just jogged a mile. Read More Rebecca & I

Blog

lust masqueradeWhy do you deserve to live? What have you done so well that you’re entitled to breathe and walk and wake up every morning? I mean you work and earn a salary. You apply and maybe get a scholarship, you invest and reap returns, you call, spend, flatter, con and ron and you finally get that girl of your dreams, but really, what have you done to earn the life you have?

Everything else is mostly good for its own sake but life, life is a passport with a universal visa. With life, you can achieve anything, become anyone, right wrongs, wrong rights, fall, get back up, heck you could even become a legend. With life. So if you’re trying to place the value of life somewhere between a new Bugatti and a political victory, reconsider.

Being free doesn’t mean being of little value. Because if you achieved all your goals and became all you dreamed of and realized all your fantasies but lost your life, really, of what good will that be?

I lost a friend this morning. We weren’t close, but he is, well was a swell guy. His skill and talent were generations ahead and you could sense his goodness from the other end of a crowded stadium. But he lost his life this morning, to an ailment so rare you’ll wonder how the heck it got into Africa. But he’s gone, and I’m here, and you’re here, with your life intact. How dare you mourn your heartbreak for this long? How dare you invest so much time into plotting how to sleep with her? How dare you nurture such bitterness? How dare you whine over that relatively insignificant incident? How dare you give up, with life still in you? Read More A Life for Sale.

Blog

sad groomWhat is this thing we are into? We are in relationships we haven’t prepped ourselves for. It’s like sitting behind a plane when all you have is a driver’s license. We’ve been selfish our whole lives and somehow we hope that the person we end up with will understand and love us anyways. We’ve been stingy and proud since we’ve had birth dates, and somehow we imagine we can hide it under some blanket in the hope that the person we claim to love will never notice the gaping holes in our personalities.

We’ve concocted our own ideas about what love is and how it should be, just so that we can qualify to be lovers. We’ve spent more time getting a degree than we have, understanding how a woman thinks or a man feels. We’ve built walls around our hearts so that under no condition does anyone get all of it. Because of one unfortunate heartbreak we’ve resolved that should we ever get in another relationship, we’ll be the one to love less.

We enter relationships with an end date in mind, and that informs how much we’re willing to sacrifice. When it’s too good to be true, we run off at lightening speed, not wanting to be around when the dream is over, not thinking ‘Maybe it’s not a dream, maybe this is for real, and I deserve it.’ We have so many cards under our sleeves we could start casinos with them. Nobody plays the fool, we all play to win. It’s a game, and the better player wins, playing human hearts like counters ball.

Time flies, and before you can recover from immaturity you’re walking down an aisle, to an alter with an unsuspecting soul waiting to pledge his soul, her very existence to you. You’re entering the most sacred of all institutions, with the mentality of a child and the attitude of an unambitious National Service personnel Read More Unqualified to Love.

Blog

I drive a wine 2005 model Corolla. I call her Nikki because her physique brings Minaj to mind. Living at Haatso and working at Airport residential has grave traffic implications. Every morning like clockwork, I’d turn Nikki on and set off before 6:15. Over time I realized that, for every five minutes I delayed, I wasted an extra fifteen minutes in traffic, so I was as punctual as a hawker.

girl in pontiacI drive through Westlands, GIMPA then past Fiesta Royale. My office is on the lane behind Nyaho clinic. I hardly give lifts because of a bad experience I once had; the elderly woman asked me to make three inconvenient stops en route. I figured she was a caterer because on the third annoying stop right after the Fiesta Royale traffic light, she collected a tray of rice and another of stew from a person whose gender I was too bored to notice. Minutes later, half the stew spilled onto my spotless cream upholstery! Anyways, that’s a story for another day, this is about the Pontiac girl.

I was making a right into the Westlands road one morning when right in front of me, a silver Pontiac tried to make a 3-pointer, in the T-junction! She was either a learner or a cra-azy driver. Her windows were rolled down, so I could see her face. I call it face because English restricts me. Her eyes hid behind stunning black sunglasses, but her smooth dark chocolate skin with a soft sheen, even, white teeth, delectable pink lips and Rihanna haircut deserved a better description than…face. Read More The Girl in the Silver Pontiac.

Uncategorized

robbedThe best thieves don’t have the biggest guns or the most menacing faces, what they have is the rare skill of robbing you clueless. They leave you smiling, not knowing that you’ve lost your most precious possession, until you really need it.

But what are your most precious possessions, really? Because if you recognize the wrong things as precious, you won’t even notice it when your true valuables are stolen. Matter of fact, you never even guarded them. What use are legs to a fish right? Just make sure it isn’t a case of mistaken identity and you really are a fish, because if your humanity returns after your legs are stolen, hurray you’re a mermaid!

My old boss (God bless his meager paychecks) used to say Read More You’ve Been Robbed! By You.

Uncategorized

There is a way of thinking that’s more dangerous than a drunk driver, than a nation in wrong hands, and I caught myself thinking that way minutes ago. God is good, by default. He’s so good to us that sometimes we take it to mean that we’re too special to be cut off, no matter what we do. We’re wrong.

We cant remember the last time we were crippled by illness, dumped by a girl, stark broke, jobless, robbed, involved in an accident or failed an exam. God’s goodness has shielded us from so much of life’s hazards, in spite of our secret sins, in spite of our action-implied ingratitude. Over time we start to think…maybe we’re beyond reproach?

We’re not like other humans, we’re too special for God to abandon. We could slip, join an orgy, wake the following morning, say a ‘Father forgive me’ prayer and have the Holy Spirit hop back in like a booty call. Read More The Ninja In Your Mind.

Uncategorized

 

 

Back in 2007 a new term emerged, it changed the terrain of ronning girls in Ghana; Otoolege. Otoolege is a guy who invests a fortune in a girl he doesn’t stand a chance with. He buys her wine when she says she’s thirsty and tops it up with enough pizza to power a drink up. He uncreatively professes love over phone, not knowing he’s on loudspeaker, not knowing that all her roommates and their friends are snickering to his hilarious entertainment.

He gets an air-blown kiss for buying her an expensive phone and doesn’t have a problem with being sent on errands by her. That fam, is an otoolege. But he has a new-age brother, and that’s a Bismark. To really get the Bismark term, i’ll give you a backdrop. Read More Bismark –The Otoolege upgrade

Uncategorized

Over the weeks, you’ve been captivated by the story of Kobe, who didn’t properly get over Afua before falling for Sarah. You’ve felt Sarah’s pains; sharing a man with his past. At a point, you even wondered what made a woman a mistress. Was it a matter of who a man was with technically, or who he was with in his heart?

Today, this epic story ends, and in style! Like I promised, I have compiled it into an e-book so you can seamlessly read the story from start to finish. Here is the link; —> Perfect Mistress, the e-book.

You can read it online or download it. It’s a small file, if you have any problem downloading it, send an email at Read More Perfect Mistress -The e-book.

Uncategorized

Yes, I checked the date and it’s well into the new year, but there’s so much newness lingering in the air. Like the almost-new anti-harmattan Vaseline I have in my glove compartment.

Last year was the best and worst for Goldinwords. We rose high and got hacked low. But now that our feet have touched the ground, how much lower can we go herh? I’ve been taking helium injections you know, so each day the sky feels closer.

This year, I’m taking a more humble approach to everything; nothing is really yours you know. Everything you have can be taken from you, what remains is your true value. Self value is what you can make of yourself when you lose all-but yourself. When you’re a Christian, the equation is different; you have God to help you bounce back.

This new year, I wish you inexplicable resilience. May you stand in the face of your greatest fear, pick the speck in its eyes and blow it out of coverage area. May what would have otherwise crippled you only give you a muscle pull. Read More New Year Ronnings!

Uncategorized