BURNT OUT

She made her way briskly through the throng. Watching her from a distance, she looked as one walking towards a purpose as she maneuvered her way around the human traffic. One walking towards a purpose, not away from it. She had just come from a job interview where one guy on the panel tried to paint her as a liar and all because she had told the truth. She had been asked where she saw herself in five years and she had answered saying she sees herself with her post grad. Degree. Of course, the guy had argued that since it hasn’t happened yet, she was technically lying. Who does that? Who puts intelligent people like that on panels? Was she interviewing to be a lawyer or something? She had thought. She knew he had just been trying to rile her to see what she was made of, considering the position she applied for involved lots of ‘people business’. Still, it got under her skin anytime someone called her a liar. She made the best out of a sticky situation and hoped she gets the job but she wasn’t holding her breath. Her demeanor never gave the outside world a clue to the crushed spirit within the carefree soul.

It was the time of day when the hopeful and enthusiastic smiles of people had started looking drawn and forced. The sweltering heat brought about by the unsympathetic sun as it attacked everyone’s head and exposed skin wasn’t helping matters any. Cool and collected, she made her way to the trotro station to board a bus home. Home. Home where she had her share of bills to pay and a boyfriend’s ego to stroke. Just before she turned a corner, she heard someone let out some insults; ony3 soormmi. The expletive was probably coming from a male porter somewhere. Yes, tensions were definitely high. She felt a clammy hand grab her right wrist. Stifling the need to sigh out loud, she turned to come face to face with a man in his mid-thirties, in a suit with a briefcase. The briefcase wasn’t what set out the ‘you-are-not-going-to-like-this’ alarm in her head though. It was the Bible the man held in his hand, which he was struggling to do, now that he had one hand gripping her wrist. Why would a person be holding a bible in his hands when he has a briefcase which can do that for him, if not for show? She reasoned. She plastered her best cryptic smile on her face and gently but firmly, tugged her wrist free. She so badly wanted to take out her handkerchief and rub away the feeling of foreign sweat on her wrist but didn’t know how to do it without offending the ‘man of God’. “Listen young lady, I don’t know you from anywhere but I feel in my spirit to talk to you.” He began with the accent and demeanor of one from the Ashanti region. Yep! I am definitely not going to like this. She thought. “I wish you had spiritual eyes to see with me what I see in the spirit about you. Are you married?” Biting her tongue was all she could do to keep from asking why he couldn’t see that in the ‘spirit’. “No, I am not.” Because fake or not, she had been brought up to respect ‘men of God’ and she didn’t plan on being rude unless it was totally necessary. “Do you know you are really blessed?” She didn’t feel like she was considering her current job situation but she knew for a fact that she was so she just kept looking at the man. “I see the kind of favour queen Esther had on you. What is your name, dear.” Esther. She mentally shook her head. She almost laughed out loud. Good job on coincidentally hitting a mark, man of God, but no chance am I going to give you that name to fan your spiritual delusion. She thought gleefully to herself. “My name is Nana Abena Amponsah.”

Make a date with me on my next post as I bring to you what happens next. **********************HAPPY NEW YEAR********************

SERENDIPITY

He had taken a turn for the better; character wise. He can honestly call himself a matured man now. The thing about pasts, presents and futures however is that, they are like building blocks and one cannot exist without the other.

Ernest Kojo Mensah is forty years old, a father of four; all from different mothers and all born out of wedlock. Granted he is currently married to the mother of his youngest child, a self-made man driving his own commercial bus (trotro) and a deacon in his church but you never truly outrun your past. Not on earth here, you don’t.

He would be the first to admit the credibility he doesn’t have was of his own doing, even discounting the string of offspring he’s left in his wake. 

His two oldest sons, Ekow and Fiifi turned thirteen a month ago, his third son, Ernest (Junior) was eight and he lived with him, his wife Naomi and their little girl, Adoma.

From the profession he’s chosen, it’s very obvious he had other things occupying his time and mind during the time he was supposed to be getting his formal education.

He was still trying to make the best out of the situation he found himself in. He knows he got off easy with only four kids because in his day, he would admit that no self respecting Casanova actually tried to mar his experiences with condoms. Thus he became a hunter of the unsuspecting females in his path. He hunted for the hymen.

It was this habit however that prevented him from denying it to himself whenever he was faced with the paternity of yet another pregnancy. Not that he ever admitted it to anyone but himself though. The age old “deny, deny, deny” has been his haven all these years.

His aged parents are always looking at him with the disappointment they could not quite hide. His meek sister, an ideal example of the well-trained Ghanaian woman, Evelyn, idolizes him. To her he’s always been “big brother”. His beautiful but brash and haughty not to mention rich sister, Alice hated him with a passion. It’s evident in the way she talked to him and their parents whenever it involved him. It always baffled him too because, of his sisters, he was rather fond of Alice when they were kids.

He understands now that everything changed the night their parents decided that the money they had could only sponsor one kid and they’d rather have their “only son” take as many re-sits as he could to qualify him for a tertiary education even though his sister already had the grades to take her to the university. Hell broke loose that night when Alice without mincing words told their parents that they were more or less taking a stupid decision. The old man of course was incensed; no woman talked to him like that let alone his own daughter. To him, they had done enough giving her an education to the secondary level and they must concentrate on the ‘man’ of the family. After all, he was going to save his family. Their father drove his sister out of his house that night, for a son that would amount to nothing!

Alice was a beautiful woman but her greatest asset perhaps was her brain. Not that it was any help to her in the early days though, apart from her studies that is. She loved to rub her intelligence in people’s faces, especially her male counterparts.  With years, however, came wisdom. She came to understand that though the majority may be stupid, it doesn’t help anyone to keep pointing that out. It certainly didn’t get her things she wanted; just enemies. She put herself through school, got her certificate and a job. It was quite a journey for her and no one dares blame her when she flares up whenever the “it’s the man’s decision” argument came up in family meetings. She had no compunction whatsoever to tell whoever to shove it. She would most times end up bankrolling the projects anyway.

She grew up hating the dynamics of her family. She saw her father as a tyrant who shoved his decisions down everyone’s throat, her mother as a spineless mute who never stood up to her husband, her sister as the mirror image of their mother and a never do well son she had the misfortune of calling her brother. To be fair, though, fate might just have dealt her a bad hand. She probably just had the misfortune of being born generations too soon for her own good.

************

This morning had started off as any other morning for Ernest. In the mornings, the majority of his clientele were the formal sector workers interspersed with a handful of market women. Fuel prices were up again and it was all everyone was talking about or wanted to talk about. Usually, he would just switch on his radio to drown out the sounds but his mate had broken it a few days ago and since he hadn’t budgeted for a new radio or even repairs, he endured the morning and all that was for the day. 

HER DUE

For you, I will dream again.

I will go back to that naive, carefree, possible world where seeing your smile of pride was the fuel that fed my engine.

I feel like a fraud taking advantage of that smile.

Yet making you cry would be the real crime.

Inside me, I want to be the genuine reason for your pride in motherhood

When I venture into that seemingly proud and fulfilled place,

I want to be able to boast of what sterling example of an object of pride and affection I've been

I want to believe in my child and never stop

Otherwise what is the point in this relationship?

This one between mother and child?

You believe

In me!

So I want to keep on believing

Thank you for keeping on dreaming for the both of us.

THE COCONUT SELLER

At first I was drawn to him because I was thirsty

He was the only one for miles around.

He wouldn’t look at me or any other customer around though.

He was “hip”

He had a makeshift mask made from an extra T-shirt

Wish I could genuinely say he was the ideal salesman; drawing attention from his face to his merchandise.

Then like a revealing wave, the wind blew the mask off part of his face.

Then I understood

Don’t know if anyone else noticed but I did.

He was imperfect!

He was unworthy to breathe the same polluted air I breathed every day.

He was terribly scarred.

See your hypocritically judgmental face.

You see, he was flawed, damaged.

His scars were not hidden like the rest of us

His scars were visible

There was no way he could be “the emperor with the new clothes, even for a second”.

Pity made me drink from the coconut I had already ordered

The drink which curiously tasted like quinine tonic

Guilt made me go back the following day..... and the day after

In my skewed thoughts I was helping him bear the burden of the mask that society had placed over his head

 Not help him take it off.....no!

Just to help him keep it on so society can feel comfortable

He still keeps it on but I wonder

I wonder if he ever dares take our sanctioned mask off

I wonder if any one of us is brave enough to kiss him goodnight

And to kiss him good morning when he wakes

And I wonder if the breeze secretly makes love to his face in the darkness

Away from our disapproving eyes

And I wonder if he ever lets her.

THE PASTOR'S WIFE II

 

BEFORE

It didn’t use to be the way things are now. Patrick, the man she dated wasn’t one you would call religious or spiritually astute. He was the guy that sat at the back of the congregation observing the goings on. His whole demeanor seemed to suggest the Pentecostal settings of his church were not really his style and that he would be more comfortable in an orthodox setting, kind of. He was the classic mysterious and brooding guy that happened to be a constant in the fantasies of most girls. It was no wonder Stella fell for him too. To Stella, he was God’s answer to her prayers. He was the last person she would call zealous when it came to church business, which suited her just fine, as long as no breeze of kingdom service touches her hair. It didn’t take a genius to know that his career trajectory was as far removed from the pulpit as possible. In church, he could easily be mistaken for a mute; a mute who suddenly seemed to find his voice once outside the church walls. Then came all the prayers to make him more committed to the things of God than he currently were, just not to the point of stewardship and Stella’s prayers were answered or so it seemed. Patrick himself had categorically stated one day, that he doesn’t know what would even give him the desire to want the responsibility of a pastor. That had been the icing on the cake for Stella.

**********

This morning as she stood in her kitchen with her hands absentmindedly massaging her forehead; one of her numerous nervous gestures, the wheels of her mind were as busy as those of an over speeding Ferrari.

It took every available willpower in her not to bring up the subject at breakfast this morning. She had learned over the course of their marriage to first pray about any heavy topic that had the potential of becoming a big deal before broaching it at all. Patrick may seem like an amiable guy but he has a stubborn streak that Stella honestly believed nobody could tame. His mother certainly couldn’t. As his wife, she had discovered this used to clash frequently with her strong will and it had taken a lot of hard work from both of them to come to some form of an understanding on the issue. By the wisdom of God, they had both agreed to pay more attention to the other’s viewpoint before taking an unshakable stance on any issue. So far, it had worked so well for them.

The issue of whether or not she wanted her husband to become a pastor however is something she so desperately wished wouldn’t come up at all. To her, it seemed like the very foundation of their marriage was threatened with this seemingly non-issue.

Standing in the kitchen, thinking and rethinking the whole business just served to get her more agitated so she got out into the grounds of the house. She decided to take a stroll right inside their compound to clear her head. After a few paces, she decided to do what she knew she must do; take it to the third person in their marriage.

The Prayer:

“What happened? I specifically asked you for something, why does that change now. Am I married to the wrong man? Now that he’s got this idea in his head he won’t let go and you know how he gets.

Can’t we just serve you another way without becoming reverend and missus?

“Are you not going to talk? I probably look like a mad woman, standing here and talking to myself.”

The one sided conversation went on for an hour at least until Stella seemed to have exhausted her list of unfair situations to gripe about. She felt tired and reclined in a garden chair to see if any other complaints would come to mind.

Meanwhile, Patrick spent the hour’s drive to work wondering what had peeved his wife this morning. To the best of his recollection, she was chirpy all through dinner last night, even before bed and he was pretty sure he fell right asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow so he couldn’t put his finger on what he might have done or said to make her moody. He had done what he usually did when he didn’t have all the relevant information upfront. He had decided to postpone dealing with her mood until he assessed every available angle before bringing it up. It had probably upset her more that he didn’t ask her what was wrong but sometimes he thinks the woman expects too much of him. As soon as he got to the company’s premises, Patrick shoved his misgivings in a compartment of his mind till a later time and started planning strategies for all he had to do for the day. Domestic issues could wait; he had to be at his best today!

“Are you done whining?” an inner voice asked. It was so loud it startled her into opening her eyes and looking around. But of course, there was no one around.

Stella: You finally answered!

God: you finally kept quiet long enough to listen.

Stella: whatever! What is all this pastor business Patrick was talking about last night?

God: I don’t remember Patrick saying anything to that effect last night. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?

Stella: are You kidding me right now? What do you mean by You don’t remember? You are supposed to know everything.

God: yes I actually DO know everything, thank you very much. I just can’t remember something that never happened.

Stella (squinting her eyes in a semblance of a thoughtful action): oh my God! You are in on it.

God: don’t use My name in vain. I’m in on what?

Stella: You want him to be a pastor! He’s talked to you about it, hasn’t he? You are on his side?

God: another accusation which isn’t true. Have you talked to him about this? Have you asked him?

Stella: no, I wanted to talk to You about it first.

God: what you really mean is; you wanted to accuse Me first before you accused Patrick, right? Apparently all we do all day is sit and plan your unhappiness.

Stella: I don’t mean it like that.

God: if there is something like that in the works, you do realize it would be about Patrick becoming a pastor and not about you, right?

Stella: how effective would he be without a supportive wife? It is about me too.

God: you may be right on that score.

Stella: wait oh! Did You say I was dreaming last night? That my memory didn’t happen?

She didn’t get any answer to that particular question.

Stella: see, I have to go take care of some stuff. I have a busy day today, kind of. Talk to You in the evening.

God: talk with you tomorrow.

True to form, she didn’t get back from town till late in the evening. When she got home, Patrick had already taken care of their supper. Her mood that evening seemed an improvement from that of the morning and her husband was relieved. He had planned not to query her about it when he got home and she still hadn’t returned from town. They had a companionable evening and retired early for bed.

It was early morning when Patrick had left for work that Stella realized she hadn’t resumed her conversation with God yesterday. She understood then, what He meant by His parting words.

Something else struck her as peculiar. Patrick brought up the same issue of his pastorship last night at almost the same time as the night before, about 11:30pm. She seemed to remember his words stating his intentions were almost verbatim to the night before. This struck her as odd and she began to think that the whole thing was a dream.

That morning when she said; ‘good morning, Father’, she had an idea of what the whole thing might be about. Two scriptures dropped into her spirit. 1 Samuel chapter 3 and Acts chapter 10. She knew what was in the third chapter of 1^st Samuel because she had read it sometime ago in the previous week. What shook her was the specificity of the scripture of Acts chapter 10. She could explain away the first scripture reference as one from her memory and imagination but she couldn’t do that with the second scripture reference from the book of Acts. She didn’t know that scripture was the one about the Apostle Peter’s vision. It suddenly dawned on her that her memory of Patrick’s pastoral ambitions was an open vision, the first ever in her entire life.

Her new revelation gave her an understanding that it wasn’t just Patrick’s ambition she was dealing with but with God’s intention as well.

Stella: I can’t be a pastor’s wife.

God: says who?

Stella: I have assessed myself and I know my strengths.

God: and you know yourself so well more than I do?

Stella: well…………..well……

That evening at dinner, Patrick mentioned that he ran into an old acquaintance who had turned a pastor.

Patrick: I don’t get people most times. I mean, what does it even mean to get “THE CALL” to be a pastor? When they can’t make it in the business world they tend to think becoming a pastor is their best option.

Stella: hmmm! So I take it if you ever get “THE CALL” to become a pastor you wouldn’t heed it?

Patrick: what call? I hardly think God would ever call me in that capacity. He knows I wouldn’t be good at it.

Stella just couldn’t hold back her mirth. She burst out laughing so hard at the absurdity of the whole situation. You have a lot of work on Your hands, Lord. She thought to herself. Patrick didn’t see the amusement of the conversation.

Patrick: what is so funny?

Stella: oh, nothing. Nothing at all. This should be interesting……………

THE END

THE PASTOR'S WIFE

She, a pastor’s wife! She doesn’t even like people that much to be cast in the perpetual role of godly hostess the rest of her life. This wasn’t about Patrick, this was about her. Over the past few years, Patrick’s spiritual growth and that of his relationship with God has been a blessing and an amazing thing to witness but a pastor? She had no doubt he could be one and an exceptional one at that but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that; she didn’t want to be that wife who undermined all her husband’s hard and noble work with her attitude. She wasn’t called to the office of pastor’s wife, period!  

***************

MC: Praise the Lord!

Audience: hallelujah!

MC: It’s now time for the word. Someone, say ‘the word’.

Audience: the word!

MC: oh, I didn’t hear you. Let’s hear you say, ‘the word!’

Audience: the word!

MC: yes, the word. The bible says: ‘man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God’. Pardon me, I still love my old King James version, amen? ‘Proceedeth’, that’s what I’m talking about, hahaha. Amen!

Audience: amen!

 MC: It is now time for our spirits to be fed and watered and we are blessed to have with us; Mrs. Stella Kudjoe to minister to us, what has been given her by the Holy Spirit, tonight. Hallelujah! Without wasting much time, we call on Rev. Mrs. Stella Kudjoe to give us the word. She is the wife and helpmeet of the man of God who couldn’t be with us here today. You might have noticed her in the front seat. Even the Queen of Sheba would be envious of her beauty. Ah, snow white kwraa, is no match for her beauty.

The student body gathered in the auditorium that evening burst into applause as Stella mounted the stage.

Stella: Hahahaha! Thank you, Michael. Hello, everyone! Hahahaha!

Audience: Helloooo!

Stella: What an introduction. Snow White! Oh, my dear Michael! Hahaha! I bring you greetings from Rev. Patrick Kudjoe. He is awfully sorry he couldn’t make it here today. I know how it is; When I was a student, I would have had a strike each against the organizers of this program and the substitute speaker already. After all the hype they gave the guest speaker in their posters and all. I pray you don’t be like I was back then, ameeeen!

Audience: Amen.

Stella: Rev. Kudjoe has his heart set on this institution because it is one of the structures God used to groom him into who he is today. So you guys are special, Amen!

Audience:  Ameeen!!!!!

Stella: This is his alma mater and mine as well. This is where we met, so those of you so bent on the “exters”, “inters” are good too……..praise the Lord!

Audience (mostly male voices): Bor hor bioo, bor hor bioo! 

Stella: shall we pray. Lord, we thank you for the gift of life and for the grace you have made available for us to be able to meet you like this. Minister to each of our hearts as you see fit. Let us leave this auditorium with a testimony that, indeed it was good we were here. In Jesus’ name…….amen!

Audience: amen!

*****************

BEFORE

It didn’t use to be the way things are now. Patrick, the man she dated wasn’t one you would call religious or spiritually astute. He was the guy that sat at the back of the congregation observing the goings on. His whole demeanor seemed to suggest the Pentecostal settings of his church were not really his style and that he would be more comfortable in an orthodox setting, kind of. He was the classic mysterious and brooding guy that happened to be a constant in the fantasies of most girls. It was no wonder Stella fell for him too. To Stella, he was God’s answer to her prayers. He was the last person she would call zealous when it came to church business, which suited her just fine, as long as no breeze of kingdom service touches her hair. It didn’t take a genius to know that his career trajectory was as far removed from the pulpit as possible. In church, he could easily be mistaken for a mute; a mute who suddenly seemed to find his voice once outside the church walls. Then came all the prayers to make him more committed to the things of God than he currently were, just not to the point of stewardship and Stella’s prayers were answered or so it seemed. Patrick himself had categorically stated one day that he doesn’t know what would even give him the desire to want the responsibility of a pastor. That had been the icing on the cake for Stella.

LIGHTENING BOLT

Palms without lines

A heart without love

A tree without roots

An earth without  a sun

I couldn’t be that much of a speck without recognition

A snow flake, like any other on the snow carpet

I could be noticed if I were stained red

I would be missed if I bled

Bled, bled and bled out

My blood for my  fame

 
My life for the legend I’ll become

My dreams will collide with reality one of these days

And sparks would fly

Tinders would burn

 Doubtful hearts would believe

Loyals would give a teary sigh

Because it would be that spectacular

Aurora borealis herself would be no match