Tag: Childhood
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Jérusalem
Can’t remember who died. But what I do remember clearly was that it was a big funeral that brought many of our relatives in neighboring Togo to our village. The ceremony extended from dusk to dawn. Even the generator that powered the mics and lamps all night became hoarse. The funeral grounds was the only…
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Only if
the wind lashes through the lush unkempt hairof the conductor of the rickety bussending shock waves of foul odoracross noses of passengers packed to the brimnoses curl in silent protestbeside the road in the scotch morning heatare two pupilsa little girl and her brotherholding handsdesperate to get through the traffic to schoolthree loud bangs on…
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The road to Damascus -page 5
I used to attend one of the top senior high schools in the country. Everything there was unlike its reputation. Many teachers were mostly absent from their post, and whenever they showed up in class, half of their teaching hours were dedicated to sharing jokes that had nothing to do with the lesson at hand.…
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Sunday night drama
I turned to find mother crying. I did not understand why. But I always kept the incident in my heart, together with the storyline of the movie we were watching that day. When I was a child, every Sunday night there was this programme on television by name “Akan Drama”. It happened that on one…
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Life in Northern Ghana 2/10
When I was a child living in our little village with my parents and siblings, life was very different. The weather, for instance, was highly predictable. We knew the rain that ushered in the rainy season and the rain that ended it. On the last day of rain, tiny ice cubes fell from the sky…
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We always smell it from afar
Back then, we knew nothing about sexual harassment. All we knew was that teacher Musah loved Mansa and we all envied her whenever she walked about the school head high like a princess. Many ugly girls in the school winced at the thought of not having half her beauty. That Mansa was a minor, we…
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Expedition to Mango heights
It was a long wall along a busy road. We stood by the wall, waiting, patiently. There always came a moment the busy road became quiet, kind of deserted. The very moment we were looking forward to. Ali bent, I stood on his bent back, and yet couldn’t properly reach the top of the wall.…
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Mother’s ritual
Mother and her syringe. Colourful symbols of my childhood. As I reflect on the past, I see my legs high up in the air, suspended by mom’s left hand while her right held the syringe filled with a herbal mixture. First, I am bent over, the syringe is inserted into my anus, and the green…
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first TV in my village
The first person to buy a television in my village was the envy of village gossipers for months. Clansmen who lived in distant places heard of the new wonder. The excitement in the village was electrifying. The man at the center of the news was a womanizer. Imagine how easily he magnetized desperate women longing…
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Traces of the virus
I used to crave for attention. I would do anything to get it, although at the time I didn’t realize it was an obsession, tainted with subtle pride. It started in my childhood when a neighbor’s wife used to call my brother and send him on errands. She would sometimes give him gifts for being…
Diary of a Wanderer 