DIARY OF A COAST GIRL

         A LETTER TO THE GENTLEMEN Dear Gentleman, I wanted to say the brightness of the day has given me this unique opportunity to write y'all this letter but looking at me wrapped in one of my mother's favorites clothes this dawn and shivering like a wet chicken, permit me to say the coldness of this early dawn breeze has pushed me to write y'all this letter. Before you run ahead of me because of "coldness" I want you to also know the matter is not a good one so just hold your smile and stick to my line both literally and figuratively.  In one of my random thoughts and in finding the answer to the question "Why do men lie?"My inner man, who is so far one of the men who hasn't lied or tried to be who he is not, dragged me to the Garden of Eden, and made me watch from the beginning when the serpent appeared till the end when Adam had to lie to save Eve. It then dawned on me, men lie to protect women. In fact, Adam did, how much more are the sons of

                                                                     PART ONE It was a breezy night, the moonlight showed brightly in the sky just like the stars. The chirping of the crickets could be heard all over. And the cats jumped from here and there after the family had their supper, perhaps they were arguing about who was supposed to take the bone that was taken by another. My grandma had done her singing and storytelling and everyone went to bed just like we do every night.  My mum came out of her room after putting my baby sister to sleep to pack some things before sleeping. She turned the lights off and went to have a night's rest. I believed my daddy, who had been the watchman of the house, had done his checks to know if everyone was in bed and their mosquito nets respectively in all the rooms including my grandmothers'.  I also went to sleep just like I always do in my room. I had no light in my room then though there were lights in all other rooms except that one

You know, there are people you meet in life, often in strange ways, who, even if they leave, you can never forget because of the memories you created together. It is the same for animals too. Growing up, we had a lot of cats that worried the hell out of our lives, but none of these cats were ones my parents or grandparents went hunting for, let alone buying. One just found us and became attached. One wounded orange cat started coming to our house. Nobody knew where it came from, but my dad used to feed it anytime it came. Then, before we realized it, the cat came with a kitten: a black-and-white cat that won the heart of everybody. The kitten was called Shaggy. Shaggy was the kind of cat that would run to meet my father even before he entered his room. He enjoyed every food my father enjoyed, and even in the morning, he was offered milk when Dad was having tea. When it was time for dining around our small table, you would hear people calling out, “Shaggy, Shaggy here, Shaggy there,” be

  Dear Osa, I woke up today trying to find another piece of my missing self, and you were all I could think of. Since the 25th of April, I’ve dedicated every Thursday to adding a piece to the puzzle. Today I’m here, wondering if I would have ended up differently if you were still alive. My inner voice answers, “Of course, I would have.” Even that little voice knows the impact you had and the one you would have continued to have if you were here. Over the years, I’ve lost myself. In fact let me say over the years since your death, I can’t even remember the last time I placed 5th or 3rd in class, let alone 2nd. The last time I recall is the first term of JHS1, when I came 3rd. Even then, I was on probation. My positions have ranged between 11th and 20th, until the worst happened in the 3rd term of class six, and my dad lost it. Your boys, however, continued their pace, always making 1st and 2nd. They even had the same grades when they completed JHS. FEE earned an award for being the best

  When I first came across Maya Angelou’s quote, "Embrace Your Stories, for within its chapters, you may find the key to your true self," I did not just love the message but was triggered and quickly countered, "Not all chapters should be embraced." This quick response served as a soothing balm to my “all active”  inner man who would have dug the buried chapters of my story that hold terrible memories if I had agreed to it.                                              NUGBIDOGBE. As the early birds ministered their song of the day, the sun was up and about to journey to the east as well. We equally made our way to our classes for the day’s lesson. Our Literature teacher, before delving into that day's lesson on the novel Native Son, asked about our dreams and aspirations. Caught between honesty and the casual responses of my junior high school days, I said "store owner" when it got to my turn. Laughter was the feedback from my colleagues, and the teach

         The Unsuccessful Student At age 15, I started writing a story titled  "The Unsuccessful Student," which was an altered story about me. My life as an individual has been the worst roller coaster though I have never been on one. In the earlier stages of life, life whipped and dealt with me that I felt the best solution was death. This was a story I started when I was fifteen. The chirping birds' melodious sounds awoke me to a sunny day. Since I was on vacation there was no rush to start the day's activities. I was in primary six, and the previous term ended with our promotional results yet to be announced, unlike the typical end-of-term results, which were announced on "our day", the day of vacation. As I went about my business, I heard a masculine voice say my name, and the way the "MAVIS" sounded told me it was my father. I yelled "Paaaa" and dashed over to him. My father was sitting beneath the mango tree, holding a white sheet

 5 years ago today I was liberated.                                                          FREEDOM

                         MEN TRY Before the last cockcrow, I was set, waiting to set off after the last cockcrow before the early morning singing birds took over. I've been in Accra for some time now, and being trapped in early Monday morning traffic is the normal worst thing that could happen to you.  I got my Accra car at the Atomic Junction and the journey started. My only aim is to beat the rush hour though I know very well, the people I'm going to buy from won't open their stores that early. It was a blissful dawn, the lights on the streets and the headlights of cars were beaming. A beautiful city it is in the dark. At the time of the sunrise, we were at the Airport area And there I saw a light blue car with the inscription "MEN TRY". It caught my attention and that got me thinking. " "DO MEN TRY"? I asked myself. " Of course they do," my little man whispered. Ikr, Men really

                                                         WHEN THE SKIES ARE BLUE                  I honestly don't know, but there's something about nature that attracts me. Growing up in a coastal village, I loved spending time at the beach, and it has been nothing but amazing. Sometimes, I even ditch the town way for a walk on the beach to my grandmother's house or my aunties'. But I realized later in life it wasn't just the beach. In the early mornings, I always enjoy watching  the sunrise and taking photos with a big smile. When there is a unique change in the usual way, I take shots of it. And When the sun and my skin get intimate? There's a new birth of melanin. I used to shout and talk to the breeze at the beach when I was hurt, hoping the wind would take it far from me. Somedays when things go well, I look at the sky to check if it's brighter, and when things go bad, I look to see if it's dark.   On rainy days, I record videos of how the greens g

HOMECOMING Once I went to the lands that swallowed the remains of my umbilical cord, The walls whose ears heard the boring sounds of my tears and echoed them to the world.  The lands where my dreams of a better life started, Where the greens waved to the winds and opened up to the heat of the day. But I was met with webs of spiders, With the clouds of dust making new buildings. The greens died leaving a dessert, And the walls waiting for a saviour or else they hug their brown brother  The laps on which I danced and the hands that joined together to make rhythms,  A sound pleasing to my ears seems weaker than talc Alas! I know what the end of this tunnel is. There is no light but just darker shades of growth.  Where the thought of death comes playing tricks in its victims’ ears and sleep Leaving the ones who once danced to the rhythm now  Believe in seeing a light in the tunnel But where I once called home is nothing but a picture of my end in the years to come.