Grat - emotSo it happened just by accident – cross my heart. I was just sitting there enjoying my emo tuo with palmnut soup that afternoon when my ears pricked almost of their own accord in the direction of a conversation occurring on the table just behind me.

You see, I was at a canteen on some *ahem* personal business, which coincidentally turned out to be the same venue for a workshop on some Public Health topic or the other. Now, if you’re even a little bit health-inclined, or happen to have an ear out for headlines in Medicine, you’ll know that that’s one of the fastest-growing fields currently.

Grat - 4x4I’d seen the 4-by-4s and branded pickup trucks and, as usual, had subconsciously formed an impression of the ‘bigwigs’ meeting together to discuss research findings and have brainstorming sessions to determine the direction of health policy in Ghana:

Step 1: Write Proposal.

Step 2: Get grant money.

Step 3: Use some of grant money for project and make a killing on the rest.

Step 4: Present findings in a paper alongside and gain academic clout.

Step 5: Repeat.

I judged them harshly, I know – I’ve confessed my sin and have received God’s forgiveness (what about you? But that’s another matter altogether 😉 )

So, this is how the conversation went somewhat: Read More Don’t Dull, Don’t Slack!

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Eye-witness account: trucked goats!
Eye-witness account: trucked goats!

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, all protocol observed. As I write this, there are more goats on the highways to Accra than there are human beings. Tipper trucks, 207 buses, pickups and ambitious motorbikes are all literally bleating! The cows are snickering, insha Allahu Ramadan is a year away. The chickens are fully aware of the genocide ahead. The cockerels are working the hens like Russian immigrants…this earth won’t be their home for long and they know it. The adolescent cocks smile at their lean thighs and bony backs; the reasons why they never won a fight are the same ones that will now increase their life expectancy.

The pigs are not sure how to react. Ghanaians have become too fond of ‘Pork Show’ joints and business class domedo hang outs. They had more hope when the Muslims were celebrating…Christians don’t hear. You know, there’s no question about the fact that Christmas is about the birth of the Messiah, but it also reminds me of my best childhood days. Christmas is when all the joys and luxuries missed out on during the year are compensated for with jollof rice, full boiled eggs, minerals, chips and Piccadilly biscuits. Read More State of The Christmas Address.

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I had something else to write about this week o, but something just happened, and I’m its hostage till this is done.

I just came out of the loo. I don’t feel…I don’t feeeel (clears throat) released to tell you what exactly I did in there, but I can assure you it was a smooth success. No extended wait-time, no hiccups, a rather smooth excremental transaction which ensured that I had much less toxic substances in my body when I left than when I entered.

As I zipped up, I remembered something that arrested me and turned a seemingly normal incident into a humbling miracle. Read More  The Cash Value of Your Piss.

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When I was much younger, I had one thought that kept me calm in the face of wild dog attacks. As I walked through their kingdom to the porch of that fine area girl i was crushing on, I’d hear their sinister growl and notice them looking like they’re not looking –through the corner of their eyes.

Dog chase, christian blog
Herh Rambo! I’m the ooollldddeeerrr!!

The playful house-help would say “Herh Rambo!” and dismiss it as if nothing could go wrong. “Chain the bloody hound!” my head screamed “what if Rambo goes gaga?! Huh, whose tiaps were on the line?” But I had to show face. I had to master the art of walking briskly without seeming like I was running. I had to hide my fright without insulting the dog’s wildness.

Then when she left me in the porch to go get Phyllis, and Rambo called out my spirit with his throaty growl, I’d think Read More Goldinwords Has Armpit Hair! [Voice Note]

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Before you start, I must clarify; I’m not the guy in the image above, he’s better looking 🙂 That being said, this year has been extraordinary. At the start of it when I was saying all those fancy prayers and asking God to break and mold and do all the work that must be done, I had no idea He was taking me so seriously. But now 2015 is hours away and there is no iota of doubt about whose grace has done this.

This year, I’ve gone out of many comfort zones, telling you potentially scandalous stories and just spoirring myself. To crown it all, in this last post, I have done the one thing I could have sworn I’d never do; making a voice-recording. Now I really have done it all!

It’s a pretty big deal because I’m very conscious of how I sound. I think it’s the weirdest thing listening to myself in a recording, but I so badly wanted you to hear (not read) what I had to say. In putting this up, I am suppressing a million thoughts and reasons saying it’s a bad idea. I mean with regular posts if  you like/dislike something it’s mainly based on how I wrote, but now there’s “Ooo, he sounds funny, oo he has a lisp, oo was that a st-sta-staaaamer? Oooo he gbaaa, oo, he’s trying too hard, ooo is that accent Ewe? Ooo…. Read More My 1st Voice Note To You.

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Definitely not me :-DWhen I was in senior high, there wasn’t enough flesh on me to make a fowl with. Now though, I think I could wrap around two cows fairly easily. Of course I’m kidding, just one cow will do. I still am!! but you get my drift? The hollow in my shoulder is long gone and the stomach that curved inwards is now slightly inverted (note the emphasis on slightly).

My friend Yaw has this theory; pot bellies are the preserves of men with poor childhoods. It’s highly contentious, but just you wait.

You see, some of us grew up in zongos where giant gutters were game reserves, not sewage outlets, heck we cooked good food with sand and hibiscus flowers. Egg (whether boiled or fried) was shared among at least four children. There were times you’d go for your plate of rice and stew and see the shiny white bulge of an egg perching right there in the center. You’d flip it over and see that you’d been tricked! It was just half of the thing! If a stubborn ah-don-care auntie or uncle happened to be around and your plan was to save that protein for the last bite, you’ll learn very quickly that earlier is always better.

Powdered milk was dished out in tiny teaspoons and the evaporated milk was served in droplets. Coke -and his brothers- was too concentrated to be drunk like that so it had to be diluted and shared among (at least) two kids. Cerelac? CERELAC? Cere-what??!! Go and drink Ma koko and Tombrown wor hor wor hor. If Arlecchino Ice Cream depended on my childhood to succeed,  Read More Pot Bellies & Poor Childhoods -The Magical Link!

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