A few weeks ago, I was going gaga over Beyonce’s pregnancy. Now it is not so certain if she was ever pregnant at all. I expressed surprise at the sudden nature of the pregnancy a few blog posts below. The question on everyone’s lips now is whether Beyonce is wearing a prosthetic and deceiving the rest of the world or whether she is really expecting. Here is a Youtube video to validate the rumors. I do not necessarily agree with the title.
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Steve Jobs, the brains behind Apple computers has passed. I don’t know why I feel so sad about it. Little was known about his private life, he hardly divulged anything about himself. The only time he seemed to relish in the spotlight was when he introduced the latest gadget from Apple. Besides an i-pod, I do not own any Apple appliance. But after the news of his death, I want to buy one of the newer products from his company. The company will certainly change with his passing and I want a keepsake from the “excellent era” that is Apple. The last time I was in the store, the Apple i-mac , the little white ones had been discontinued. That was a shocker. And I don’t want other products to vanish in like fashion. The man was a genius and I think people are going to rush in for his products now that he is no more.What is fascinating to me the most is how a boy, given up by his own parents and put up for adoption could rise to become one of, if not the most admirable, innovative inventors of our times. What happened between his childhood years and now? What factors shaped his upbringing? For these unanswered questions , I wish Steve Jobs would have opened up to us more about his personal life. I think there was so much he could have taught us in terms of overcoming adversity, letting go of childhood scars (having been adopted and possibly feeling rejected) and just not letting the past get the better of one’s future. To be kicked out of a company you founded, start afresh, learn your lessons and come back to make it one of the most valuable companies the world has known, all in a little over a decade is just phenomenal. How did he dust himself off and try again?
And less I forget, he ditched college.
Perhaps we will know more about Steve Jobs with time. For now, I will say Goodbye to one of the most brilliant men of this century. RIP Steve.
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Heyyy!!!!…Miss Beyonce Knowles just announced that she was pregnant and expecting her first baby with hubby of 3 years Jay-Z at the Video Music Awards (VMA’S) !!! Whooo!!!! I am so happy for her. Wow. She did a good job of concealing it! I watched her promote her most recent album ”4″ a few weeks ago and none was the wiser that she was expecting. What a surprise. She definitely sprung that on everybody. Beyonce was wearing a pair of white pants and pink sequined jacket when the announcement was made. I can’t wait to see this baby! Jay-Z was on his feet cheering with everybody when his wife made the unexpected announcement. Congrats B!!! Jay-Z i know will be a great father.
Beyonce was CLEARLY showing her baby bump in her orange gown. My question is HOW did the paparazzi with their high definition cameras NOT have noticed this very obvious bump before now?? THAT is the shocker. Beyonce has said in interviews that she would like to be a mother by age thirty and she has lived up to her word. Congrats again Beyonce.
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Rumor has it that Will and Jada Pinkett Smith are separated after 13 years of marriage. I would like to say I am surprised if the rumor were true, but no, I wouldn’t be too surprised. At the beginning of their marriage I thought they made the cutest couple. With time, I came to the conclusion that Jada Pinkett did not deserve a man like Will Smith. If indeed they are separated, I would chalk a bulk of it to constantly telling the world about their most private moments together, which has made me cringe many times over. There has been a gender role reversal with these two for years. Will looks beat down, emasculated and miserable to me. Jada seems afraid to show her femininity and comes across very mannish, unpolished and ghetto if I am to be frank. What happened to her? I miss the softer, more refined Jada of the 90′s. So much for a perfect marriage if the rumor holds water.
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Willow and her brother Jaden Smith are raking in the dough….they made the list of richest teens in Hollywood …and the girl is not even in school! Oh my God…had I known ….lol…..If your parents are Will and Jada Pinket, you are connected to Hollywood insiders like a spider web. But seriously, it begs the question that is school the only way forward for the rest of us?
Jaden Smith was credited with earning $5 Million throughout the 2010 calendar year, with $3 Million of that coming from his award winning role in the blockbuster classic remake of Karate Kid.
Willow Smith had her own breakout year with her first über popular hit single “Whip My Hair.” In 2010, not only did Willow made $4 million off Whip My Hair and she even signed a lucrative record deal. And they not yet teens…All the fingers are not equal indeed.
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The word is that a gay advocacy group wants the producers of Sesame street to marry two male characters Bert and Ernie.
The last time I watched Sesame Street was a few decades back so I had to look up who these characters were. I was driving home last night when I heard the story over the radio. My first reaction was shock which gave way to laughter and then disbelief. What will the gays ask next? That homosexual acts be performed on the show? It is children’s entertainment for goodness sake! The gays should want for others what they ask for themselves; freedom to form a relationship of one’s choice. So we cannot have a platonic relationship of the same-sex unless there is sex involved? Come on. That is ridiculous.
It is this tendency of some gays to force feed us with their agenda that will bring the movement crashing. If indeed God, in all His wisdom created some people gay, then we will have no choice but to accept gayness sooner or later. But because He did not, -AND YOU KNOW IT-you are in a mad rush to convince even the most innocent child to buy into your propaganda. Remember, that what goes up must come down. Keep pushing your agenda too quickly down our throats and we may regurgitate. Projectile regurgitation.
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Hello! to my lovely readers. I have been MIA for quite a while. Life took charge. So many things needed my attention that I decided to take a break from blogging for a while. While on hiatus, I came across a book titled No More Christian Nice Guy by Paul Coughlin. In a nutshell, the book says that being a Christian Nice Guy takes you nowhere.It equals disaster.
It contrasts how the church expects and conditions men to be versus how Christ portrayed it. The book reads that though some Christian men appear nice and agreeable on the outside, they are actually fearful and manipulative on the inside. Jesus was not a nice guy. He was not effeminate, weak-willed, agreeable and afraid of confrontation. On the contrary, he spoke his mind clearly and concisely. He did not shy away from conflict. He faced it head-on. Do present day Christian men posses these qualities? Or do they go through life with a meek and mild mentality. Was Jesus meek and mild as He has been fed to the church?
A few quotes from the book:
“Outside and especially at church, you are warm and friendly;you appear to care about others. Inside, however, you carry frustration and rage.”
“The popular nice guy misconception is that Jesus didn’t drink, swear, get angry, use sarcasm, confront, avoid questions, grow impatient or complain. Conversely, the record shows that he did all of the above, and the gospel includes no apology, confession or repentance for any of them.”
“Jesus was not a bearded woman” Lol
It also explores how Christian men can achieve sexual and emotional integrity and intimacy.
I would urge both men and women to get it.
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A few years ago, I was fresh out of secondary school and like many of my friends, I wanted desperately to be accepted into and attend a US college. I had made up my mind not to set foot in Legon. Or Tech. I got what I wanted when I was granted a visa to the US. I enrolled in a community college the following year and graduated with my bachelors in 2006. I maintained an international student status all four years and to say those four years were difficult is an understatement. I wish somebody had prepped me about the realities of being a foreign student in the US. You see I did not come from a rich home. I was not one of those fortunate Ghanaian girls who received a full scholarship to an elite private school. I could not count on my parents for financial support because they did not have the means. I am the first-born and there weren’t any older siblings to ask for money. There came a time when I had to find accommodation, pay all the bills and pay international student tuition rates. Life was not a bed of roses. So how do you avoid the headache and get an education should find yourself in my shoes?
Sometimes I Wish I Had Stayed in Ghana: Looking back now, I would have received just as good or even better of an education at any of the public or private Ghanaian universities. There are more options in terms of higher education in Ghana now than there were when I graduated high school. Your chances of getting into a professional program like architecture, nursing, medical or law school is greater and pretty hassle-free. Your chances of graduating on time are far greater. So think long and hard before you rule out our own institutions. They have a lot to offer.
Do not let The International Student Office Intimidate You: They love to do this, knowing that you are new to the country and a greenhorn. They will tell you your “status” in the country will be at stake should you fall out of line in the least. This gave me many sleepless nights. Do not take it to heart. They put you in an impossible situation, knowing you don’t have the money to pay them and they take advantage of your naïveté. Do not be afraid of them. Speak to them with confidence. Let them know they do not intimidate you. They should never stop you from transferring to a school of your choice. Take their words with a grain of salt.
Consider A Community College: They are AFFORDABLE. I was one of those people who spent a lot of time at the USCIS in Accra selecting colleges and seeking advice from Nancy Keteku. I remember I was strongly discouraged from even thinking about applying to community colleges. I was given the impression that they were inferior institutions. Well beneath me. That is a lie! I’ll tell you, I had a more fulfilling experience at Nassau Community College than I had when I transferred to a 4-year college for several reasons. Community colleges are unpretentious for one. They are more transparent and straightforward unlike some so-called prestigious schools that gave you impression they can make you grow a second brain at the end of 4 years. Tuition is very low compared to the kind of schools the USCIS in Accra recommended for me. The state and local governments fund community colleges in the US. Depending on where you work, you may be eligible for a tuition discount. You can juggle a job on the side and actually have a life outside of class. The student population in community college was mostly middle to lower-income Americans. I found them to be more down to earth and pleasant to interact with. I belonged. I was not intimidated to go up and speak to them for fear of being snubbed. Classes are more personal and the professors I found were more approachable.
Transfer To A Cheaper College: Do not let the cost of paying foreign student tuition burden you. Look for another school that offers your choice of major and transfer. Look into off-campus housing if you have to. Find other Africans and ask them if they will not mind being roommates.
Choose A Major Wisely: A friend of mine told me yesterday that it is what you mange to do with your education that counts. It is not so much that you went to Harvard or Fisk.
The sheen of having a college degree is fast fading. It’s how much money you have that counts now. Selfish but true. In this US economy, I will go for a major that equips me with a relevant skill I can enjoy while making money. Those majors are out there. You just have to look hard. That is why community colleges can be a real winner. You can acquire a skill at low-cost in a shorter period. Do not rule out majors like electrical engineering tech, digital arts, film, childhood and special education and allied health. Community colleges are renowned for having programs like these.
Do Not Get Depressed: This advice was given to me by an East African cab driver a while back. He said of all the mistakes you can make in America, getting depressed is the worst. Why because it clouds your judgment and you end up making poor decisions. And from my experience, making a bad decision in America only sets you back because it takes time to recover from it and in a country that is ever evolving, the rules of the game might have changed by the time you finally come around. Try to think and speak positive things. It will also be to your benefit to surround yourself with positive people.
Ask Your Financial Aid Office For More Money: If you didn’t think you could, I have good news: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN. I have friends who have gone there and wept, rolled on the floor, got on their knees…Americans are pretty generous and they cannot stand to see somebody in need for too long, as cold as they may seem. But if you are new to the US, it can be intimidating and this option wouldn’t cross your mind. Be persistent until they increase your financial aid package. With a little luck, you will be paying less.
Never Turn Down a Scholarship Opportunity: I did this a couple of times. Can you believe it? I am still trying to figure out why my head wasn’t examined.It is a relief to graduate from college loan free and a full or partial scholarship will put you on this path. You can pack your bags in a few years and move back home if you so wish. Loans hold you back.
Be Careful Of Private Loans/ Indiscriminate Borrowing: Private loans come with big interest rates. It is tempting to consider them when your back is against the wall. I say transfer to a community college first before you ever think of applying for a private loan. To me, it’s just not worth it. First of all, you will need a co-signer. If you were in my situation, chances are you do not know of anyone who will be willing to so-sign a loan for you.
Enjoy your experience and lots of laughter on the way!
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I watched Oprah today. Tyler Perry shared the raw sexual and physical abuse he experienced at the hands of people. Adults. Family members. Friend’s moms. People you trust. People you don’t know. People you know. I had goosebumps when he mentioned how his body ‘betrayed him’ during some of those encounters.
A long time ago, my body betrayed me too. I am a woman. I didn’t have an erection, but my body welcomed the sensation of their hands on my little body. Some of them. One dirty pastor *everybody and their mother knew he was a pedophile. Even the dogs withdrew into their kernels when they saw him. One dead uncle *he robbed the dead. Dug them out. He was beaten to death. Death by hemorrhage* One cousin I haven’t seen in years. Now you know why we haven’t spoken in year’s right? Oh my, I totally forgot. *leans head against the sofa, eyebrows raised, remembering another one* Lets call this one Frank. I stayed with Frank and his wife on a vacation to London when I was about twelve years old. Frank had a lovely voluptuous wife and two sons. I took to his wife as soon as we met. I learnt a lot from her. She taught me how to cook and how a girl should prepare for marriage. Like she had done. She was so armed and ready, she saved her virginity for Frank. Nine years into the marriage, two boys later, he was on top of every woman in Nottingham, including her best friends. I was his latest target. Well, by then I had become pretty used to older men taking a sexual interest in me.
Like Oprah said, I thought I must have had a banner on my forehead advertising something I didn’t know I was advertising. He waited until his wife was out of the house of course. He put on some music and proceeded to dance with me. I was shocked. Is this how this man is? I was stiff as a rod. Every fiber in my body was tense. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He didn’t break eye contact with me either. I have never been stared so intensely in the eyes before or since. He was looking for trust. His eyes were asking me if I liked him. Loved him. Wanted him. Anything. A sick little smile on his lips. My 12-year-old mind laughed. He must have thought himself a prince, Mr. Charming? I don’t know. You are not the first, I was thinking to myself. We had been moving now for a few minutes. What if his wife walked through the door? The insides of my head felt hot. My ears were on fire. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. Where was I going? I was living in his house. I knew what was coming. I knew what he wanted. What if he kicked me out? I don’t remember when or how….but I know he kissed me fully on the mouth. With his tongue. That’s when I broke away from him and walked off to the bedroom. I wanted to spit. I wanted to tell his wife. I think I saw him smile some more behind my back. He helped himself to a beer. Drank it with some satisfaction? Surprise? Was he surprised that I had walked off ? He didn’t think I had the will. I will tell his wife when she comes! I will so tell. But of course I didn’t .
I remembered instead how she had poured her heart out to me about his infidelities. Did I say I was 12 years old? I felt sorry for her. I felt pity for myself, but a part of me had become numb at this point. Shrugs. Maybe this is what our family friends did in private. Behind closed doors. In marriages. Whatever. I wanted no part of it. This was grown up life I guess. I couldn’t wait to go home to my mother.
My mother.
Hmm….
Frank was the last person to give me what Tyler Perry said I didn’t want. I had been given many gifts by the time I was thirteen and I have carried it long enough. I never asked for it. Never. I body betrayed me at times. But I never asked for it. But I got them. Gifts. They have been wrapped and tucked away for too long. It’s about time I sent a thank you note those who were so kind to leave such nicely wrapped boxes for me. Gifts. Nye yi wala don.
Thankyou. Thanks for ruining my life. Thanks for such a pleasant childhood. My mother tried. She really did. She tried to put food on table. Tried to pay the bills. Single parent. She imparted whatever hopeless knowledge she knew about life to me. I call it hopeless because her wisdom never helped me as an adult.
My mother’s eyes didn’t see any of this. If they did, we were not in a place where such matters were to be discussed. We were in Ghana. Our house was not the place. She was preoccupied with raising her children. The reverend father who was a constant presence in our house, who my mother knew very well played with children *back then, we didn’t say pedophile. We just called him a very bad man. We even giggled about it* was welcomed without suspicion. It’s no surprise I went into a shell. Forget snails. I recoiled more than they. I just didn’t want people around me. It was better that way. People just took advantage of me. I was small, I was quiet, and I was a target. But thankfully, it stopped…along the way. I could have made one heck of a psychiatrist! I have the experience.
Its 1987. Class 1. First grade for those of you who….
I am six years old. Don’t remember if it was break time or not. The classroom smelled like a mix of wet shoes, piss, unopened lunches, dirt, and the toilet, which was an arm’s reach from the classroom door. The toilet door was green. The classroom door was red. She was the only girl I was taller than….We moved in packs. We went everywhere together. Never walk alone. It was unwritten rule. To the next class, to the field, to see friends, to the toilet. Specially the toilet. Never go alone. Go with someone. We went in packs. Let’s go and urinate. Let’s go pee. Where are you two going? Oh, she’s going to help me pee. It was like that. So I accepted the offer. The last cubicle. Stinky. Wet. Smelly. Feces. I remember her telling me to drop my panties. Let me see.. she said… *bends her head, lowers eyes, looking at me* Spread your legs a little. I was dumbfounded. I was afraid of her. I was humiliated. She was so authoritative and sure of herself! After all these years, that is what amazes me the most. She had been here before. Here. In this situation. I couldn’t believe it. This girl??The one everybody liked? The one whose family went to ablochee *abroad* But she was so nice! So sickening nice. Broad smile, white teeth. I don’t remember anymore if she touched me or not. I think not. I remember I was finally out of there and from then on, she looked at me with a kind of conquered look. Up until class whatever, when her parents whisked her off to wherever.
I want to meet her. I have always wanted to meet her again. I saw her picture on Facebook. Same smile. Pac said some things don’t change. I know better now. Somebody made her experienced. Somebody gave her a gift I am sure. I hope. How else do you explain it? I have fantasized about showing up at her doorstep and cocking my head to the side, with a sweet smile on my face. Hi ****! How have u been? I think we have something to talk about.
Thoughts come alive. I did run into her. At the airport. Didn’t recognize her at first. She had gained weight. 9 years ago. She saw me and averted her eyes. She frowned. She sat down and stared at the floor. Not in remorse, not in embarrassment. In anger. It seemed. Was she really angry? Did she have a right to be angry? An angry mask? I wasn’t a small girl anymore. She said nothing. I think I sat a few seats away from her. I don’t know. I was awkward like a six-year-old all over again. I was unsure of myself again. Here she was and I was a little scared of her. I was ashamed. It would be best not to say hi to her again I thought. Maybe saying hi had angered her. Did I greet her? I don’t remember. When it was time to board the plane, she moved quickly. She was lost in the crowd. She never looked back. I really wish I could have lunch with her. But me thinks she will be too much of a cowardess to eat lunch with me.
I should have been an actor. Thandie Newton. Touch me on the inside part. I would have been damned good.
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Okay. So Willow Smith’s début song whip my hair is still making waves among young and old. I must admit, I get a spit uncomfortable with the way Jada and Will openly talk about their private life over and over. We get it. You guys have great sex. But my adult years have taught me that the best sex is kept secret. The last thing you would want to do is to share it with somebody.That is why I doubt that Will and Jada are enjoying their sex life as much as they say they are. Actually, I do not think the Smith’s are having as great a sex life as they claim.Real intimacy, when found with another is kept in the deepest crevices of one’s heart. I liked Jada better back the days of Set It Off and Jason’s Lyric (If you haven’t seen that movie, get it).Then Jada went rock band hard. Here comes Wicked Wisdom, her punk rock band. And then my love affair with the petit one faded. And faded. And faded. Jada can look very scary at times. I wonder if Will is ever afraid of her.I found myself shifting in my seat when the Smith’s were on Oprah, especially when Jada was talking. Her way of speech emphasizes every word. You get the impression she is trying too hard to impart wisdom we already know. And frankly, it gets uncomfortable to watch. For me at least.
Now let me talk about Willow Smith. Jada is obviously raising her up to be an independent, free-spirited woman. The girl appears to have a good head on her shoulders.If you ask me, I think Jada has greater parental influence on their kids than Will does.She clearly wears the pants in the family. So are critics right in saying Willow Smith is too grown for her age? Nine-years-old wearing leopard prints? Dressing to the hines in unconventional outfits? Is there anything worrisome about that or have Americans boxed themselves in so much that when a nine-year old chooses to express herself, people find all kinds of fault with that? Some Youtube commentators say that Willow should be playing with dolls and barbies like other nine-year-olds. Are they right? What is it about the way Willow Smith is being raised that makes many Americans uncomfortable? What would Americans think of these Zulu Girls?
Is it that Americans are not accustomed to seeing a little Black girl exude so much confidence and self-assurance? Is it because her parents are rich and that guarantees her a certain lifestyle? Or are these harsh economic times a reminder that some of us will never have what Willow has at age nine, no matter how hard we try? As ‘grownup’ as Willow is, I do think there is a tinge of race underlying the uproar over the nine-year old. But wait a minute. What would Americans have thought of this little girl here? Would she have been labelled arrogant too? Notice her hand gestures and facial expressions and the way she moves her feet. The dance steps command respect without her having said a word. It reeks of pride. Is it that Black culture , I don’t like that word, imbibes a certain amount of pride in our kids than other cultures? Most African-Americans hold the view that Willow Smith behaves in an age-appropriate way. Maybe we need to see more little Black girls like the Ashanti girl performing her Adowa dance . I do not think Americans see enough images of self-assured black children. Or if they want to see it. I think the Smith’s are doing something right with their daughter. As long as they do not let fame get to Willow’s little head.
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I was in the supermarket shopping the aisles as usual. Pick this, put-it-down, pick that, put-it-down. I walked towards the counter with the few items in my hands and I see Madam Vanderbilt in the line, waiting her turn to pay. Her back was turned to me. Ms. Vanderbilt was an older woman. Forties? Glasses. Short hair. Darker skin. She was standing to my right. Corduroy pants, educated woman no doubt. Me,shorter than she, casually dressed, so so educated. I turn my head to the right, just as she turned to take a glance my way. Our eyes meet briefly. She is a little embarrassed. A scared look in her eyes. An awkward moment. I raise my eyebrows in greeting, and crack a smile, not showing teeth. But her head is already turned. She is now looking straight ahead. She shifts from one foot to another. I begin to shift too. There seems to be a magnet, an invincible magnet between us, acknowledging eachother’s presence and yet repelling us. She pays and checks out. She dosen’t look back, though I feel her leaving. I think she felt me too.
We are at a wedding reception. North Carolina. Haven’t seen these people since we left secondary school, way back in Ghana. We are all in some college or the other. Studying something. Wanting to graduate. Medical this, law that. Africa’s future. Ghana’s so-called hope. So why can’t we talk to each other? Why can’t we look each other in the eye? What’s the silence? Where is the silence coming from? We are put together at a table. Six or seven of us. You can feel the tension building. You can almost see it. I can sense the discomfort. The pretense. The fear. Who is going to break the silence? Any bold one? Forced smiles. Until somebody at the table breaks the ice. Heyyyyy whazzuuupp?? Haven’t seen you in so long? How you doing? Fine. Ok.
Next question: What school are you in? Oh X, Y and Z
Oh that’s nice. But the hidden look on his face says he was expecting some better Bougainvillea League school. All the same…
Back to silence.Trying to avoid eye contact. Africa’s future.
Those who were passing by stared at the floor and hurried past…as if there was a threat. Somebody was out to get them? I can only guess. What has the White man’s ‘education” really done to us?
When I am around Black Americans, those considered poor and uneducated, I am right at home. Not all of them. I went to Ghana . I stayed clear of the élite. I looked for the ordinary, so called poor, I-have-never-been-abroad types to spend my time with. The carpenters, the painters, the traders in the market places, the dressmakers. I was looking for a fisherman, but that will have to wait until my next trip. I found them refreshing. I learnt so much from them. Their energy was infectious. Their honesty, I didn’t know how much I had missed. There was no pretense with these folk. I didn’t have to be anybody else but Naa Sakley.I didn’t have to list my pedigrees and degree’s and affiliations to be accepted. Being me was OK for them. They didn’t stand back, access to see if I was worth having as a friend. If I would fit in their circle of accomplished, degree holding friends. Oh, how revitalizing it was!! I miss being accepted for being me. I miss the old ways. I miss real, honest people. I miss them.
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This was back in the day Ghana. They shaped our childhood and made living in Ghana fun. We just couldn’t do without some of them back in the day. Do you remember..
Sunlight Soap
The all famous yellow bar. It came in a blue and yellow plastic wrap that made a bit of noise when you opened it. It was one step above key soap. Ha-ha. Washing on Saturdays was quite fun.
Choco Milo. We used to chew these things manya manya.
Frytol. Sheeee…the “quality” cooking oil. The advert went something like this: Frytol Cooking Oil, Frytol..
Milk of Magnesia. You remember it came in a bottle? Tasted like chalk!
Old Cell phones. These babes were LARGE. Larger than cordless phones of today. But you were the man if you had them back in the day.
Old Ghana Passport. It looked wrinkly, as if you could iron it. These old ones are the size of today’s mini bible.
Peugeot 504. This was for the big boys back then o. If you had one parked in your compound, you had arrived.
OSIBISA. Can you forget them?
Akosua Agyepong. Ao Frema…!
Remember Blue Band and Planta margarine?
Old Dusting Powder
Old School Lunch Box. If you didn’t have one, sorry for you.
VW Beetle. This baby made some noise!
Bentua! OMG.
Ghana Broadcasting Corporation. Remember their Sunday movie special? Sheena?
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Happy New Year y’all!
I spent the day watching an Akan movie called Abokyire Bayie. Now I don’t usually watch Twi movies because I have a limited understanding of the language. But boy I am glad I gave this movie a chance. I was hooked from the beginning. The story line is tight. Addictive even. I just spent the day watching this. I even went to the African store to get part 3 and 4. Its that good. I am absolutely convinced now that Akan movies are better developed by way of plot, story line and acting than Ghanaian English language movies. So whats the story?
The plot is full of twists and turns. Nana Hemae Dokua plays Auntie Maggie who had a wayward daughter named Vivian. They lived with her neice Efe who had a wealthy, educated and charming fiancée, Jake. Efe’s lifestyle was in sharp contrast to her cousin Vivian who only seemed to fall for ne’er-do-well’s. Auntie Maggie is frustrated by her daughter’s choice of men and she hatches a plan. When Jake pays a visit to Efe’s house, Maggie spikes his drink with a charm that was made to turn his affection around for her daughter Vivian. Permanently. She goes to the kitchen to grab something and Vivian comes downstairs to keep Jake company. Jake is on the phone. Vivian takes a sip of his drink and instantly falls madly in love with him. Her mother walks in to see her daughter taking a sip. She is horrified. Jake is confused and he leaves. Ester cannot tell her daughter what has just transpired. She goes to the juju man in hopes of reversing the charm. It cannot be undone. She is sent away in a slew of threats.
What to do now? She tries to win Jake’s affection for her daughter by all means necessary. Remember that Vivian now has eyes for only one man, Jake, and it cannot be undone. Efe is bewildered to say the least. Auntie Maggie kicks her out of the house one night. She finds solace at a friend’s house. Vivian in the meantime hounds Jake, confessing her love for him. Auntie Maggie is in full support of this, showing up at random places where Jake can be found to literally beg him to love Vivian. My gosh, this movie was good. She is so desperate, she promises to add to his wealth and grant his every wish. Jake is not sold. He marries Efe. In frustration, Ester phones her relative in Kumasi for a solution. On arrival, the cousin confesses that she is a witch. She promised to help win Jake for Vivian, but on a condition. Of course. It being that she would have to make Maggie a witch too. Maggie is horrified, but she eventually accepts the offer.
Things start spinning out of control for Jake and Efe as well as Jake’s relatives. In an effort to curb the problems, Efe seeks the help of a pastor while Jake is away on a trip. She is caught red-handed in bed with the pastor. Jake kicks her out. Maggie and Akyaa, the witch gaga, bad mouth Efe to all who will listen, claiming she is cursed. The plot thickens and Vivian ends up married to Jake. To Vivian’s surprise, her witch mother and aunt pack into her house with the aim of tying up all loose ends in the marriage before the aunt leaves London for Ghana. Akyaa’s visa expires in two weeks. She is bush,loud and uncouth-ed and has overstayed her welcome as far as Maggie is concerned. Akyaa has news for Maggie. She will leave Jake’s house when her witch superiors have been paid for their services. Maggie is miffed. What pay do they want? Vivian’s first child.Or children. And Akyaa is going to stay around until her boss has been paid.
I give this movie a 5/5. The acting was solid and there are many lessons to be learnt in the end.
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This speech touched me deeply. It gave me the chills. We’ve all failed at something. Often, we try to disown it or distance ourselves from it. It is difficult to acknowledge that we have fallen short. It is hard to admit to having failed because failure strips away at the superficial, exposing our flaws to us and for everybody else to see. It takes a lot of introspection to learn from our failures. But it must be done if we are to learn from our mistakes. A few quotes resonated with me.
There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations.
Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life.
This woman has absolute control of the English language. I love her choice of words.
Enjoy the speech
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If you haven’t heard it already, Oprah Winfrey has her OWN network. Miss Winfrey’s initials worked beautifully didn’t they? The programming has not been as original as I thought it would be, but a few programs on OWN has caught my attention notably Masterclass and In The Bedroom with Dr.Laura Berman. Let’s talk about the latter shall we? Have you been following the show and what do you think of it? Do you get it on cable? I don’t, so I called Time Warner this afternoon to upgrade my service, just so I could have access to OWN, but wait, to be more specific In The Bedroom. I didn’t upgrade just so I could watch Mystery Diagnosis. Thank you very much.
On my part, I am just in love with the show. I love it, love it, love it! I love the honesty. I like Dr. Berman’s expertise in dealing with very sensitive sexual matters, the couple’s willingness to bare all in hopes of fixing their marriage… But most of all, the show is very educative. It’s a big eye-opener for everyone who has experienced sexual frustration or problems in a marriage or relationship. You will definitely see a reflection of your sexual problems in one couple or the other. Dr. Berman peels away the layers of emotion, and gets to the heart of the problem the couple is facing. It’s quite fascinating. While watching an episode last night, I couldn’t help but wonder how great it would be if the couple sitting across from Dr.Berman were Ghanaian/African. A Ghanaian couple willing to let a professional sex therapist into their home and marriage to help them achieve a more satisfying and intimate sexual relationship. Mmmm….nice. Lets let our imagination wander a little…what sexual problems could our Ghanaian/African couple be having? Years ago, there was a radio program in Ghana called Wu Ba Ada Anaa (Is Your Child Asleep?) I am telling you, that show was more explicit than anything I have ever heard on In The Bedroom. So, no, Ghanaians are not as shy and conservative as you might think. Back to the question. What could have brought Dr. Berman into our couple’s home? After watching a couple of episodes and from my little knowledge of psychology, here are some probable causes I came up with:
He/She was raped earlier on in life
She had an abortion, or he pressured someone into having one
He/She had a habit of masturbating before marriage and now finds satisfaction with his/her partner difficult
Both or either of the couples was sexually abused or assaulted
Lack of connection to one’s partner
Role reversal, making the woman view the man as a wimp or the man seeing her as controlling
Early exposure to sex or sexual literature
Growing up in an overly protective or ‘traditional’ environment.
A woman of the opinion that sex is dirty, ‘good’ girls don’t do certain things.
I can see how the above reasons would create a barrier(s) to an open, enjoyable sex life. Seriously, there is a need for this kind of platform for married couples from Africa. Ours is a conservative society where issues like these are not easily discussed. The truth is a lot of Africans experience sexual frustrations. We have many unanswered questions just like any other group of people. And we need help in making sense of why our sex lives are not what we hoped they would be, if that is the case.
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I did myself! No, I finally did. I have always prided myself on not being one to follow the crowd. I like to be different. I am generally content with who I am and what I look like. So what happened to me? Why did I do this to myself? Three years ago, I went over dear friend’s house. I hadn’t seen my girl in years. You need to start taking care of your skin she said. My skin is fine I thought. Very fine. My complexion was uneven, but smooth. My face was a light brown color but my skin was darker around the chin and forehead. My complexion had always been slightly uneven. But I was happy with it. I was probably one of the few people who went through the teenage years without one lone pimple. So whatever! My face is fine.
She took me to her bedroom where a big blue bottle of cream sat proudly on the dresser. This she said, lifting the bottle, is what you need. Knowing her, that bottle must have cost a small fortune. It did not take long to find out. It is expensive she said, but very good. Why am I not surprised I thought. She had a penchant for highly priced goodies. But you could trust her taste in quality. I nodded and took a closer look at the bottle. I remember thinking that the bottle was huge. It read Fair And White. For someone who had jumped both feet into the world of nappturality, natural hair and earthly things, the name disturbed me a bit. No, not a bit, a lot. It smacked of unconscious self-hatred to my newly ‘enlightened’ self. It is probably a bleaching cream I was thinking. Or ‘toner.’ Whatever.
Anyway, the conversation ended there but that was not the last thing she had to say about the supposed state my skin. If she was exaggerating about my skin then, she would not be now. I saw a degeneration of my facial skin about a year ago. I hadn’t altered my lifestyle, I ate the same foods, but I drank very little water. I have to admit that. I do not like drinking water. Healthy huh? My face had become dry and flaky, I saw darker patches as the days passed and it only got worse. I didn’t know what to do. I tried hydrating myself, but it helped little. My friend’s advice came to mind, so I pulled into a Korean owned beauty supply store downtown a few weeks ago to get the supposed wonder cream she had spoken of.
I do not like going to beauty supply stores. The weaves, the sight of Black women caressing fake hair that can never be theirs….dont get me wrong, I am presently wearing braids and I recently got a perm after wearing my hair natural for 5 years. I see nothing wrong in switching hairstyles every now and then. But some of the sistas you meet at the beauty supply are complete weave addicts…..women who would rather have a coronary than be seen with their own head of hair….
Anyway, I got my blue bottle of Fair and White, 
after the sales girl came and unlocked it from behind a glass cabinet . As I held the box in my hand, I heard that small voice deep inside my head asking why I wanted the cream in the first place. Was I really out to even my skin color or did I want my face to be lighter skinned? I think I wanted both, frankly. My not having answered that question honestly made me uncomfortable as I made my way to the register. The voice in my head was almost screaming now.
The bill came up to $49 and change. Fifty bucks! I have very sensitive skin, so I have always stuck to Palmers and or plain old shea butter. It has worked for me every time. I didn’t trust this Fair and White thing and to top it off, the word Whitenizer was scribbled across the box. I began applying it to my face, only after mixing it with my regular body lotion. I thought I saw some improvement albeit a burning sensation every time I applied it. It continued like this for about 10 days, almost twice daily.
Bottom-line, in less than two weeks, I have managed to destroy my complexion completely! This cream is bonkers! A total flop. Damage. You name it. It does not belong anywhere on human skin. I look at my face several times a day in the mirror, and I want to cry! My face looks ten times worse than it did before, and I don’t know how to remedy it. I have a sinking feeling that the damage is permanent or at best it will take a couple of years to go back to what I had before. You don’t know what you got till it’s gone indeed. Looking at my face now, I will gladly take back what I had before. What was I thinking? I have had to fight back tears when I look in the mirror. I now have dark round lesions under the dermis (top layer of skin) of my cheeks, around my nares, just below my cheekbones. I don’t look the same and I hate myself for it. I am really disappointed in me. I cant stand it. I went against my intuition, my better judgement and see the results…..shame on me.
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