EVERYONE knows the famous “ask and you shall receive” verse. Eeeeverryyyyone and their grandmother. I’m one of those people who falters between not asking because how-can-you-make-something-like-that-happen and ask-anyway-because-theres-the-likelihood-you-wont-get-it-mpo.

Typically, I end up at ask-anyway. Because I’m all for shoot-your-shot and see where it lands.

My favourite (I know, I know, you’re not really supposed to have favourites, but stay with me) verse regarding prayer and whether or not it gets answered is when God asks Moses, “is my hand waxed short?” Every time I think about asking for something and I think it might be too big an ask, I try to remind myself of that.

How can it be too big, do you know who you’re asking? My friend, ask worhor. “ – is the running monologue I have with myself.

Read More This Kind Prayer


You’re called to have big dreams. Your imagination is supposed to run wild. There isn’t anything you can imagine that cannot be done if God willed it.


We cannot compare our dreams to that of others. Maybe you are praying for all four years of your university tuition to be paid for, room and board as well, textbooks included, plus even a little extra dough for some entertainment. You also have to be a cool kid. You have been praying fervently and waiting patiently. Then someone who has had a similar prayer comes by one day and tells you they just had their tuition for the upcoming semester paid. Yet here you are, still praying and waiting with nothing to show for it. How annoying is that?

Read More Do You Want This or Nah?



IT was one of those parties at Christmas where you didn’t actually know the person throwing the party. However, you knew someone who knew someone else who knew the party-thrower, so that was basically an invitation. And of course you would bump into people you knew because everybody was at these parties.

Myma walked through the gate and saw a group of boys standing around talking and laughing. Going through the line-up she realised she knew some of them, so she went to say hi. She initially only said hi to Dennis, a friend of hers, but because her mother raised her properly, she extended a smiley hello to everyone else. Just as she was walking off, she was summoned back by Dennis because his friend wanted to talk to her. Apparently, said friend, Jason, found her attractive and as is usual with boys, Dennis thought it necessary to let Myma know immediately, in front of all his other friends.

Read More Near Perfect Isn’t Always For You


THE more time I spend with different groups of Christians, the more I recognize the one prayer request that always makes an appearance – one for a family member to come to know Jesus. I’m unsure why it is such a rarity to find a family with all its members on fire for Jesus. I have seen families who have all members living for Christ, so I know this isn’t impossible. It just so happens that those families are very rare.

I’m not sure when exactly I began pondering this idea, but I wanted to know why it was so prevalent. I wanted to ask God why it was, that only some parts of the family got to know Him, and the others were uninterested or grossly disgusted by the idea of Him.

I have always thought there was a certain beauty in flaws and imperfection. Ergo, I tried to find that in a family that had some members who knew Jesus, but I failed to see the beauty in it. Sometimes, I ponder ideas such as this and let them go, however this was not one of those situations. Unable to let the idea go, I carried my concerns bl3oo1 to God.

Read More You, Worthy Disciple


There is a Nigerian proverb that owns a special spot in my heart; The man with a beautiful wife and the farmer with his corn by the roadside both have the same issues. Kwerrrr, dating a drop dead gorgeous woman, it’s a special calling o, trust me, I KNOW.

We all have things we wish for in the person we’ll marrry, like for me she being a fantastic cook is such a big deal! Im not going to deny it, I love body! The way I see it, if the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, well how about some curvy architecture for the worshipper!? But that’s just me, for you, he being rich or ambitious could be what gets you weak in the knees. Or she having Krobosutra potential could be what kills you.

There are girls who love a man because of the family he comes from or the school he went to and there are men who love a woman because of the length of her hair or the lightness of her shade…which begs a whole new conversation about how she ended up halfco when she was born ebony black. But let’s leave that for another day. Read More The SEXIEST Thing About My Dream Wife


Sunday church is not enough for me. Not because I’m some shpiritwa breda with a dozen tye & die long sleeves and countless Christian fellowship t-shirts with a tongues-induced coarse voice. I’m not that guy who knows more verses off-head than he has female friends. Still, Sunday church is like jollof rice for me; it’s just not enough. I guess I’m just that needy.

My need is so great that a two hour service a week just wont cut it for me. My mom laughs, she says she sees how our generation is more on fire than her Orthodox one. “It’s understandable,” she said “ the temptations and demons in the system these days, they know computer, they know Facebook, Instylegram (lol, dont laugh at mum!), in fact they are wilder and more high-tech than when I was in YPG.” Goodness you’ll have heard me laugh from Togo. Read More Sunday Is Like Jollof Rice!


susuWhen I was little, I kept a piggy bank. I lie, piggy banks actually looked piggish, mine was the creative masterpiece of an unaccomplished area carpenter. It was still good though. It was a small box with a slit on the top of it. Susu box, that’s what we called it; the Ghanaian child’s first encounter with the concept of saving.

Originally, those things were meant for keeping pocket change. If you kept dropping spare money in it long enough, you’d eventually get a significant sum. Well not in my side of Osu; there was no spare money or change anywhere. You had to rely on generous visiting uncles and faded coins dropped and forgotten in sandy, sun-scorched corners. Forget Jack Sparrow, those were the real treasure hunts. Sometimes the most coins were in Nyaniba Estate gutters. We’d ‘fish’ them out, wash them and ‘launder’ them in our susu boxes. Because of the sparse flow of spare change, it took quite a while to get any meaningful amount in your box. The most heartbreaking days were the ones that you’d return from school to find your box smashed and your big brother or cousins gone. Untraceable!

Those were the risks of ultra-small scale micro financing back in the day. It wasn’t always like that. There were good times when after months of dropping coins and folding paper, you’d pry your box open and find enough money to become your own Santa. You became the area star when you walked onto that bald, sandy pitch with your-own-sweat ‘case 5’ football in your armpit. Even though the whole world knew you were crap at football, Read More Susu Boxes & Useless Prayers.

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