THOUGHTS OF A VILLAGE BOY

It was a Wednesday and the date was the 28th of May, 2014. I had just taken breakfast at the office canteen and I sat there watching the world go by. Then my cell phone rang. It was a colleague of mine who was related to a prominent son of the motherland I’ve always admired. She said, “Village Boy, where are you?” Before I could reply, she added, “The  old man  wants to see you.” I was speechless. A billion excited thoughts flooded my  ‘faculty of thinkology.’  Please don’t go looking for that phrase because it doesn’t exist in any lexicographic manuscript. “The old man wants to see me? Eeeeei! Why, when, where?” “Now,” she exclaimed. “Can you make it to his office in thirty minutes?” “Tell him I’ll make it in fifteen,” I blurted out. “When you get there tell the…” I was too excited that I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. I jumped into my jalopy I had christened  ‘Mimi’  and I sped towards the old man’s office. I could...

As Emirates Flight EK201 touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York, there was only one thing on my village mind - the Sony FS100 High Definition video camera. I had long dreamed about owning that camera, but the only thing separating me and my dream was the 'green stuff' - money. Now here I was in Obamaland - wait a minute, was Obama president yet? He was. It was January 2013. In my pocket was a brand new wallet. Of course when coming to Obamaland you'd naturally want to be awash in everything new. I wouldn't tell you that even my jacket was brand new. Pause! Does the jacket deserve a ‘brand new’ accolade? Mehn, I had carefully picked it out of the tired looking lot whilst on a 'first selection' shopping spree at 'Kantamanto market' ahead of my trip. Ahaa! I know you want to scream, “Obroniwawu” – second hand. My friend keep your thoughts to yourself. I didn't ask for your opinion. Yes you! I mean you the one readin...

Image credit: Yori Narpati Something has been nudging at the tranquility of my village mind for some time now, and I think the time is just ripe for yours truely to express his village thoughts on it. Boy meets girl. They sort of like each and they start a relationship. Boy begins to anticipate the day he'll be made to drink from the holy grail below girl's bosom. Well he didn't have to wait too long to get that opportunity. After persistent and well coordinated lobbying, he gets the nod to taste the wine from the holy vineyard. Just as boy lifts the cup to his lips to intoxicate himself with it's sacred content, girl gazes passionately into boy's eyes and says, "Sweet heart, please wait." Boy mutters under his breath, "What the ..., not this time." Girl continues sweetly, "Do you love me?" Hmm, I guess many of you are familair with the above scenerio, aren't you? My village mind wonders why 'girls' ...

Image courtesy PenciledCelebrities We look on with ‘orgasmic’ pleasure or with sheepish nonchalance as an alleged armed robber is lynched. As he lay writhing in excruciating pain, seeing his very life fading away moment by moment, our bloodthirsty cravings heighten and we watch with elation as the ‘neigbourhood Rambo’ lifts his hefty club to administer the exterminating blow. The misguided citizen journalistic tendencies in us awaken and we take out our smart phones and jostle each other for that ‘magical’ shot of the death strike. We gleefully share the gory images on social media with captions such as ‘otwea’ – it serves him right or ‘a similar fate awaits all armed robbers.’ We care less because after all he’s an ‘alleged’ armed robber and not related to us. Are we mad? A few days ago, we were awaken to the unpalatable news and horrendous images of how Capt. Maxwell Adam Mahama, a distinguished officer in the Ghana Armed Forces was mistaken for an armed robber and inhumanl...