Guy walks up to a gal standing next to a gutter.
Guy: I have been observing you for quite sometime and I just want to say that I love you.
Gal: (looks up at guy; surprised) What?! (she exclaimed)
Guy: I love you and I want to marry you.
Gal: Ask my Dad (pointing at an elderly man sitting on a chair outside the house; all the while thinking; 'this guy is not serious kraaaa, How can you just walk up to me and say you love me and want to marry me This guy has been watching too many telenovelas')
Guy: I am not joking. I will tell you Dad.
Gal: (thinks; 'How disrespectful can you be? The gall!, tell my dad!') Please don't.
Guy: Why? Are you dating someone?
Gal: Yes, I am.
Guy: That does not matter; too much fish does not spoil the broth. After all, you ain't married to the guy.
Gal: I am not interested; thank you (then walks away)
Guy stands there for a few minutes and goes to sit in his car. He later beckons the gal to come to him. Gal takes her time to finish washing her hands and walks up to guy in car.
Guy: Can I have your number?
Gal: No
Guy: Why not?
Gal: Remind me to give it to you the next time we meet.(but thinking; No way, man!, I don't want you stalking my phone) Bye.
This actually happened to me; though we spoke in Fanti (a Ghanaian dialect). I haven't seen the guy since then and if I do, I bet I won't recognise him.Has this ever happened to you before or have you done this before ?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Surprise!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Fall On Your Knees
It is not a marriage proposal,
A declaration of love.
Fall on your knees.
While you are at it,
Hear the angel voices.
I was there,
The night that Christ was born.
It was beautiful.
The look on Mary's face competed with the radiance of the sun.
Fall on your knees.
The pride on Joseph's face rivaled the conquest of a hero.
Hear the angel voices.
Fall on your knees.
Worship the Prince of Peace.
Love, cherish
A declaration of love.
Fall on your knees.
While you are at it,
Hear the angel voices.
I was there,
The night that Christ was born.
It was beautiful.
The look on Mary's face competed with the radiance of the sun.
Fall on your knees.
The pride on Joseph's face rivaled the conquest of a hero.
Hear the angel voices.
Fall on your knees.
Worship the Prince of Peace.
Love, cherish
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Memory Spillover
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| www.hamptonroads.com |
In One Gold, my mum stopped applying chemicals to my hair, and started braiding it. I had a soft scarp and still do; it was difficult to braid but I loved my natural hair in braids. During Christmas, I got my hair braided with long-stranded-wig and hot-water-curled it.
The last day (Our Day) in Two Lilies, my elder sister hot combed my hair for the last time; remember Miss Addico did not like girls with their hair up in braids, she preferred it short. I spotted a huge afro to school and had a blast. Afro, because I wanted everyone to see I had a lot of hair, which will be cut off before we got to Three Matthew. :)
In the new year, I will continue the series with experiences in junior secondary school. Next week, I will post something small, yet exciting? :)
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Responsibilities, Competition, Jealousy @ 6 Jupiter
6 Mercury, 6 Jupiter, hmmmm. I learnt a lot about leadership in my last year at primary school; I was selected the Compound Prefect (democracy had not dawned in my school yet, :))and informed in a crazy manner, by the headmistress. Allow me to tell you something about that headmistress:
Back-flash: Mrs. RO was feared by everyone in the school; even the teachers, though they pretended not to be. No one dared walk on the same veranda with her. She had a perpetual frown on her face and can often be seen pacing up and down the veranda with a cane. We heard that she had given one teacher some lashes with that cane; it could have been true; I did not witness it. I had an encounter with her the first week in class 6. I did not notice her coming up on me while I was standing in front of my class. She punished me for not being in class by making me stand out in the sun for about an hour. It seemed longer.
Imagine my surprise when I was called to Mrs. RO's office. The thoughts running through my head were not too pleasant; I wondered whether she had discovered that I sometimes go out of school during lunch to go to the Ghana Library Board and get back almost thirty minutes after lunch break?, had she been told I hide storybooks under my desk and read during lessons?, did she know I sometimes ate in class while hiding my heading under my desk? I went to her office, greeted her and listened to her grudging response. After I had waited for 'eternity', she peeped at me atop her spectacles and said "You have been made the compound prefect. Do you accept?" without bestowing a smile. I said yes, then she said I could leave. I heaved a sigh of relief; was that all she wanted to say? Whew!
I was the class jump rope champion till a new girl came to join the class and beat me in the jump rope competition during a PE period. I must say, I was pretty jealous and tried to get over it bymanipulating for arranging another competition, but she won again, then she became a friend but I could never get her to teach me her technique.(Darn it! lol)
There were four work groups named Guggisburg, Mensah Serbah, Nkrumah and something (I cannot recall the fourth one; maybe it is on account that they were always the last in any competition.) We held spelling bee and mathematics competitions every Monday between the sections during general assembly and it was always a tight competition between Nkrumah and Guggisburg.(Of course, I was in Nkrumah and we always win!)
To commemorate our passing from primary to junior high (JSS), we had a class party; each class member contributed an amount of money, which we gave to the mother of one of our classmates to prepare something for us. It was a wonderful way to end the school year.
(I wonder why I can't remember most of my teachers' names with the exceptions being Miss Addico, 3 Matthew; Mrs. Quaye, 4 Alpha. Try as I can, I can't remember my class 6 teacher's name; he was a great teacher; disciplined and funny.)
Back-flash: Mrs. RO was feared by everyone in the school; even the teachers, though they pretended not to be. No one dared walk on the same veranda with her. She had a perpetual frown on her face and can often be seen pacing up and down the veranda with a cane. We heard that she had given one teacher some lashes with that cane; it could have been true; I did not witness it. I had an encounter with her the first week in class 6. I did not notice her coming up on me while I was standing in front of my class. She punished me for not being in class by making me stand out in the sun for about an hour. It seemed longer.
Imagine my surprise when I was called to Mrs. RO's office. The thoughts running through my head were not too pleasant; I wondered whether she had discovered that I sometimes go out of school during lunch to go to the Ghana Library Board and get back almost thirty minutes after lunch break?, had she been told I hide storybooks under my desk and read during lessons?, did she know I sometimes ate in class while hiding my heading under my desk? I went to her office, greeted her and listened to her grudging response. After I had waited for 'eternity', she peeped at me atop her spectacles and said "You have been made the compound prefect. Do you accept?" without bestowing a smile. I said yes, then she said I could leave. I heaved a sigh of relief; was that all she wanted to say? Whew!
I was the class jump rope champion till a new girl came to join the class and beat me in the jump rope competition during a PE period. I must say, I was pretty jealous and tried to get over it by
There were four work groups named Guggisburg, Mensah Serbah, Nkrumah and something (I cannot recall the fourth one; maybe it is on account that they were always the last in any competition.) We held spelling bee and mathematics competitions every Monday between the sections during general assembly and it was always a tight competition between Nkrumah and Guggisburg.(Of course, I was in Nkrumah and we always win!)
To commemorate our passing from primary to junior high (JSS), we had a class party; each class member contributed an amount of money, which we gave to the mother of one of our classmates to prepare something for us. It was a wonderful way to end the school year.
(I wonder why I can't remember most of my teachers' names with the exceptions being Miss Addico, 3 Matthew; Mrs. Quaye, 4 Alpha. Try as I can, I can't remember my class 6 teacher's name; he was a great teacher; disciplined and funny.)
Monday, December 13, 2010
My Account
Oh, stop sulking,
It doesn't become you.
But you kraaa, wat b ur wahala?
I should be the one putting up airs,
Of offence, hurt.
Maybe I shouldn't bother.
It will be back to the drawing board.
What to bet an eraser on it?
Continuation of my school days coming up on Wednesday. Enjoy the week.
It doesn't become you.
But you kraaa, wat b ur wahala?
I should be the one putting up airs,
Of offence, hurt.
Maybe I shouldn't bother.
It will be back to the drawing board.
What to bet an eraser on it?
Continuation of my school days coming up on Wednesday. Enjoy the week.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Gal-in-the-Cupboard at 5 Toniolies
5Toniolies was great. I had discovered romance novels during the last term in 4 Alpha. I came across two Mills & Boons books in my dad's bookshelf (I had read all the other novels he had). I wanted more. I got more. I started exchanging books with students in higher grades. I started saving some of my allowance to buy books to read and of course, exchange. I remember closing from school and roaming around the doctor's flats at Korle-Bu to buy ice cream, which we had dabbed 'Gummy Bears' after the cartoon because of the colour. (5Selomey was the other class)
I 'locked' my classmate in the cupboard for the class. Please before you go judging me, she deserved it. Our class teacher asked me to write names of those who talk in class when she is away. After writing for awhile, I decided to give it to AK to write the names because I had a book I wanted to finish. I don't know at what point I spoke to someone but she wrote my name and I was given a beating by the class teacher when she came back. Our teacher said she was disappointed in me and that I was a culprit when I had been asked to be the police. I confronted AK during lunch break and asked her who I spoke with; she named someone who wasn't in the list she wrote. I asked her why she did not include that person's name on the list. She gave me a rather silly answer, which got me all 'mad'. The school does not allow for fights, and I did not want my anger to get the better of me, so I held her by the collar of her uniform and pushed her into the cupboard for our books in the classroom, closed the door and leaned against it. After she had pushed for sometime, she gave up and after waiting for a few moments, I stopped leaning against the cupboard, went out for lunch and came back in good time before the bell rung for break-over. AK had still not come out. I must say I did not really notice until someone asked where she was. I saw her come out of the cupboard; suddenly my heart started pounding. I was scared she will tell on me to our teacher, but she held her tongue. We are still friends by the way even though the last time I came in contact with her was when I accepted her facebook invite.
I was an early developer physically and was taller than the guys in the class; any guy who picks a fight with me is invited to meet me at the Indafa Park after school so we could settle scores. (I was a streetfighter! Ah!, just kidding). Somehow, the guys I pick fights with never make it to the park (if only they knew how much I prayed that they will not make good on the challenge I threw to them! All made from sheer bravado)
Next week: P.E at 6Jupiters
I 'locked' my classmate in the cupboard for the class. Please before you go judging me, she deserved it. Our class teacher asked me to write names of those who talk in class when she is away. After writing for awhile, I decided to give it to AK to write the names because I had a book I wanted to finish. I don't know at what point I spoke to someone but she wrote my name and I was given a beating by the class teacher when she came back. Our teacher said she was disappointed in me and that I was a culprit when I had been asked to be the police. I confronted AK during lunch break and asked her who I spoke with; she named someone who wasn't in the list she wrote. I asked her why she did not include that person's name on the list. She gave me a rather silly answer, which got me all 'mad'. The school does not allow for fights, and I did not want my anger to get the better of me, so I held her by the collar of her uniform and pushed her into the cupboard for our books in the classroom, closed the door and leaned against it. After she had pushed for sometime, she gave up and after waiting for a few moments, I stopped leaning against the cupboard, went out for lunch and came back in good time before the bell rung for break-over. AK had still not come out. I must say I did not really notice until someone asked where she was. I saw her come out of the cupboard; suddenly my heart started pounding. I was scared she will tell on me to our teacher, but she held her tongue. We are still friends by the way even though the last time I came in contact with her was when I accepted her facebook invite.
I was an early developer physically and was taller than the guys in the class; any guy who picks a fight with me is invited to meet me at the Indafa Park after school so we could settle scores. (I was a streetfighter! Ah!, just kidding). Somehow, the guys I pick fights with never make it to the park (if only they knew how much I prayed that they will not make good on the challenge I threw to them! All made from sheer bravado)
Next week: P.E at 6Jupiters
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
4 Alpha- Mental Alabahda
"Pam! pam! pah!"; the sound Mrs. Quaye's whip made on my upturned palm. It is Monday, the day every pupil in 4 Alpha dreads; the period is right after morning devotion; the standard drill, "Take out your mental books". 'Mental alabahda' (a term coined from the craziness of doing mental mathematics) takes place Morning mornings after devotion. Mrs. Quaye, our class teacher, dictates the questions with only a minute interval between questions for answers to be written down. The maximum number of questions, ten(10), were too much considering the fact that for every mistake made, you get a lash from the slim-lined whip Mrs Quaye claims as hers. The frequency of lashing eased some-what when a pass mark is set, and the setting of it did not start until we were in our second term in class 4. I remember envying the other class, 4 Beta, because their class teacher did not conduct mental mathematics drills. I appreciated Mrs. Quaye for it, though I will always hate the lashes; I learned focus and practise.
Mrs. Quaye would usually send me(sometimes accompanied by someone of my choice) to get her 'fufu' from my cousin's chop-bar during lunch time.
I ate pork chops for the first time in class 4 when I had lunch with Mrs. Quaye's daughter, Sheila. I also learned I was allergic to pork because I got skin rashes right afterward and again when I disputed that fact. So please don't be offering me pork chops or anything to food to do with pigs any time within my lifetime.
Next week: 5 Toniolies
Mrs. Quaye would usually send me(sometimes accompanied by someone of my choice) to get her 'fufu' from my cousin's chop-bar during lunch time.
I ate pork chops for the first time in class 4 when I had lunch with Mrs. Quaye's daughter, Sheila. I also learned I was allergic to pork because I got skin rashes right afterward and again when I disputed that fact. So please don't be offering me pork chops or anything to food to do with pigs any time within my lifetime.
Next week: 5 Toniolies
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