I once took an Uber alone . I just confirmed my destination and slept off till I reached it. That’s when I knew it was time to wake up because this wonder I doubt has ever happened in Ghana.
The other day after work, I was going through my posts in a trotro while seated a row in front of a man with a very loud radio. All of us passengers had no choice in the bus but to listen to the preaching coming from the radio which this man had against his ear. So, I was scrolling scrolling down my feeds when I felt a tap. It was Radio Passenger. He told me, “Sister, please can you scroll back up?” He was interested in a fashion ad that had popped up on my screen. I granted him his favour.
#LessonOfLife – There’s no such thing as privacy on public transport.
Photo Credit: freepic
A couple of months ago, I had fears that my brother was going to give me trouble about this marriage issue that other family members are constantly asking since I finished school and started working. My brother can have quite modern views but he made a comment sometime about a woman living single without a man that sank my heart. I could feel that pain Julius Caesar felt that he had to exclaim, “Et tu, Brute!” So, I had psyched myself for tough days ahead from external family and especially this younger close relative until the other day when an observation he made convinced me that he was a feminist after all.
We were sitting in the hall; I was watching a movie and my brother was discussing some future scenarios with our mother. Well, it got to a point and my mother made a comment about me never moving out unless I am getting married. I said nothing and only sighed inwardly. The room was quiet and then my brother remarked that the world could be so unfair to women. Why was it that at every point in her life, the woman was owned by one person or the other, her father or husband? Why could she not be free to do as she wanted without one person or the other feeling so responsible for her? I still did not say anything but I had a very big smile on my face. So, all hope was not lost with my brother.
The situation gets scarier when I think about what some married women go through; they will never be accepted back into their parents’ homes after the wedding day. For better or for worse, they have to make their marriages work. It is crazy, chale! I am just glad that recent times are seeing more and more economic empowerment of women. This means that we women can now have better control of the future and making the most of the one life we each have. Chale, we cannot keep killing our dreams while men are living theirs. So, my dear women out there, I would like to ask a question. Is it our fault that we were born women?
So, it’s been five years since I started this blog. I know this sounds cliche but really, time flies. It feels like just yesterday when I was this scrawny student (Well, I’m still scrawny) hustling my way through school thinking big dreams in my head.
Have I achieved all those dreams? No. As the days go by , I understand more and more what people mean when they say it’s hard to change the tv channel when you’re married, not to talk of changing the world. I’m not even married but I cannot even blog frequently like I thought I would and juggling relationships and trying to get eight hours of sleep and getting to read all the books and and and…There are just so many things to do and so little time.
These coming days, I hope that I will be able to keep up with writing. Writing always brought me calm but I realise it is becoming less and less so.I’ll try to finish all those unfinished poems and stories that have been waiting for me. I have quite a backlog to clear and I wonder the state of mind of mind I was in when I started these stories.
Well, while I am alive and full of hope, I’ll try to be a better writer. This will be an interesting challenge in the coming days. I am keeping my fingers crossed.
Below is an English translation of Surah Al-Kafirun, the 109th verse of the holy Quran.
Say, “O disbelievers,
I do not worship what you worship.
Nor are you worshippers of what I worship.
Nor will I be a worshipper of what you worship.
Nor will you be worshippers of what I worship.
For you is your religion, and for me is my religion.”
No matter how I look at things, I will never be free. I don’t like talking. It’s something one will notice a few minutes after meeting me. I like to make it count when I talk but recent happenings have made me wonder if I really will ever have the freedom to not talk about “maybe unnecessary things.” Is it a punishment that I want to be a Muslim?
When I wear a head-covering, a lot of non-Muslims want to know why I’m wearing it, what would happen if I were to take it off and why other Muslim ladies don’t wear it. That is the main topic for discussion. And then next, they want to know when they will see my hair.
When I’m not wearing a head-covering, a lot of non-Muslims want to know why I’m not wearing it and if I am a practicing Muslim. They always want to know if I also pray five times a day. No matter what, I can never seem to be able to convince them that I am a practising Muslim who just happens not to be wearing a head-covering.
This veil-wearing-or-not is so often the ice-breaker in conversations with new people I meet. Respect comes in many forms; like when you know you’ll not convert to another person’s religion and you pester the person with questions whose answers you already know just to compare notes and decide anyway that your religion is superior. It’s so not cool, people.
You will not be a worshipper of what I worship; neither will I be a worshipper of what you worship. For you is your religion, for me is mine.
I am a Muslimah who likes other things too. Yes, I am Manchester United FC and Real Madrid FC supporter. No, I don’t follow the Game of Thrones seasonal movie. Yes, I think the Game of Thrones books are more awesome. No, I have not listened to all of Kendrick Lamar’s songs. Yes, I think Kendrick’s Humble video is cool. I think Lorde is awesome. I enjoy watching black-and-white movies from the sixties. I am interested in learning to play the violin or piano someday. I can’t decide which Ghanaian season I love most, harmattan or rainy season.
Yes… basically I love other things in addition to my religion.
It’s been a while. I did the equivalent of what people do when they let themselves go with this blog.
All I’ve been doing is just observing. It’s time to write. Mmmmm…what should I talk about?
Well, I recently read a book titled Prom and Prejudice by Elizabeth Eulberg which takes after Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. In case I have never mentioned this before, I am obsessed with Pride and Prejudice. I have a hard copy of it, soft copies in pdf, epub and mobi formats. Yes, I know. That is how badly I love the book. There can never be an excuse for me not to not be able to read it and I have re-read it so many times and will do so again many more times to come.
As a lover of Jane Austen’s works, I always find myself attracted to other creative works that borrow from her storyline like Prom and prejudice. I did not regret reading this book by Elizabeth Eulberg. The characters were just as interesting and it simplifies the original Pride and Prejudice in about 140 pages.
In a few lines, it tells the story of poor Lizzie who happens to find herself in an expensive private boarding high school called Longbourn Senior High where she is bullied by most of the other students because of her financial background. Her only two friends happen to be Jane, her roommate and Charlotte, another scholarship student.
In Longbourn, the crowning event of a girl’s stay is to be invited to prom by the perfect guy from Netherfield Boys’ High School wearing the perfect dress. When the story begins, Jane is making plans to go to a party where she gets to meets Charles Bingley, a guy she had been socializing with prior to his semester abroad in England. Though Jane does not admit easily, she is besotted with Charles and hopes that he asks her to prom. Lizzie is reluctant to go but she agrees to accompany Jane. It is at this party that she meets Will Darcy where she decides she hates him based on a comment he passed to Charles about not wanting to mix with scholarship students.
Jane is annoyed and classifies Will with the other school bullies. She tries to avoid him but somehow fate seems to bring them together. Will is always at the coffee shop where she works and makes it a point to always walk her back to her school. Along comes bubbly Wick who captures Jane’s heart not only with his personality and similar financial status but also their mutual disdain of Will Darcy. When Will asks Lizzie to prom, she explodes and tells him her bottled up feelings about his negative interference in Charles and Jane’s love affair in addition to his unfair treatment of Wick.
Well, I don’t won’t to spoil the book for others. Somehow Lizzie and Will are able to work out their problems and feelings. The End!
As I said earlier, I enjoyed it. It’s a fluffy read but it’s well written; the grammar is good and the conversations are interesting. I’ll recommend it to other Pride and Prejudice lovers, people who have heard of this famous Pride and Prejudice and don’t have the heart to read the original , people looking to be entertained for a short while, people interested in reading this blog, people who like me, lol.
It’s a good book, simple. Hopefully, I get to keep up with updating this blog.
“Aunt Baaba,” Moses said. “Where can I find a barber in the neighbourhood?”
“There is one just around the corner,” She replied. “Walk two houses to the left from here. Turn left and you’ll be facing it.”
“Thanks,” Moses replied. He pocketed his wallet and took out an afro comb from his hair. “Off to the barber’s .See you later!”
He was back in five minutes confused. ”Are you sure that the place that you showed me is the barber’s? It seemed more like a salon to me. Aunty, are you sure? “
“I’m very sure,” His aunty said. “Mansa’s son was there earlier today. Maybe you’re the one who didn’t get it.”
THE BARBER’S: TEN MINUTES EARLIER
Yayra walked into the barber’s looking agitated. “Good afternoon,” She greeted. “Please, I am here for a haircut.”
Nana Bempong, the assistant barber was free. “Have a seat, Ma’am,” He said to Yayra. As the only woman in the room, naturally, the chief barber and his current client eyed her.
Before Nana Bempong could ask her the style that she wanted, she said,” Cut everything. I just want something low.” She untied the scarf that held her hair to reveal a think mass of kinky hair. Nana Bempong could not help touching a strand of it and stretching it to its full length. It ended past her shoulders.
“You have such beautiful hair,” The chief barber said. “I didn’t know untamed African hair could be this long. Imagine if you permed it!”
“Yes,” Yayra answered. “I’m tired of it. I just want to be rid of it.”
“Why? “ The other client asked. “It’s so beautiful .Other women would kill for what you have.”
“Yes, “Yayra said. “ It’s my former boyfriend who liked it. He encouraged me to grow it but now we’ve broken up. I don’t need it anymore.” There was sadness in her eyes. “I just want a fresh beginning.”
Nana Bempong got a pair of scissors and passed his hands through Yayra’s her to straighten it. He was about to snip off a strand when the chief barber said, “Are you just going to allow her to cut it?”
“Miss, “The other client said. “Don’t make rush decisions you’ll regret later. So, the other guy left you. Maybe he’ll come back or there’s another person who’ll love you more. A fresh start could mean dyeing your hair. You don’t have to cut it out of spite.”
“Yes, “The other two agreed.
“For all you know, someone else has fallen in love with your hair and loves you the more, “Nana Bempong added. “ I don’t think I can cut it.”
The chief barber left his client and walked to Yayra. He took out a strand, split it into two and started twisting it. “This is so cool and simple. I don’t know why you girls spend so much on hairstyles when twists are just as beautiful. “In a matter of a minute, he was done. He stepped back and admired his handiwork smiling. “That’s nice. I could do this all day.”
“It’s that simple?” The other client said. He also got up from his seat and twisted another strand. “It really is cool! “ Normally, Yayra would have protested but she said nothing even when Nama Bempong started twisting another strand.
“Tell you what? “ The chief barber said. “Don’t cut your hair. Why don’t you let us twist it; if you want, we can dye it to give you some sort of fresh start. You can come here anytime you want to change your hairstyle. “
“Yea,” Yayra said. “Right, because now you’re a hairdresser.”
The chief barber laughed. “It’s never too late to learn. It would be nice to include more services to attract more customers. What do you say?”
Some minutes later, a young man stood in front of the barber’s and peaked through the front glass. What he saw were three men around a woman who were busily twisting strands of her hair. One of the men even had a cape on and what looked like a half finished haircut. This young man felt that it would not be a good time to interrupt what was going on inside.