IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES

If tomorrow never comes 

….then today shall be a long day.
A long day that will see the creation and invention of many things.
If tomorrow never comes, then today will never end
And I will have the freedom to do the things nature prevents me from doing……

….freedom from procrastination
Freedom from night with all its fatigue
Freedom from waiting for that mysterious pipeline
That harbours all progress to release my projects.
If tomorrow never comes, I will be the most successful human today has ever seen.

DZIDZOR

 

I have a story to tell. I must tell my story. My tale is a sad one embellished in the juicy stupidity and ignorance of a young me. It is said that he who laughs last, laughs the best and good things come to those that wait; but it is not always so. I am living proof of that assessment. I am an epitome of a soulless man wandering this earth for the next available force to snatch up and destroy.

There was this girl I admired so much. So much that I would readily make the ultimate sacrifice for her any day and anytime of my sorry existence. From far away, I could tell she admired me too and would readily accept my proposal. But fear and cowardice stood guard over me every second of everyday. They stretched their poisoned swords towards me and cautioned me not to take a step farther. And being an ignorant fool, I thought I had time and that love would surely take me one day into the compounds of Dzidzor, my love.

One might be tempted to be content with the proceedings of my story. Do not be! As this tale is not that of a happy ending. For he who drinks a calabash full of the locally distilled akpeteshie; with a smile on his face is a hypocrite and a liar. A fool like I was, I believed I had time to make myself a befitting gentleman, worthy of asking my Dzidzor’s hand in marriage.

For this, I embarked on a journey to my mother’s village, to find myself a good job so I can make enough money to offer my love the happy life she deserves; one befitting a princess. After six months of hard work, I had made enough to return home to fulfill my ambitions. My mother had died three months after I got to her hometown. I was grieving, but I had the memory of my Dzidzor to give me comfort.

I began my two-week journey back to my father’s village. Fourteen days until I saw Dzidzor again. Fourteen days until I could call her mine. A week into my journey, I saw Dzidzor on a dusty footpath leading to my village. She had a few of her clothes tied up in her favorite wrapper. She told me she was fed up with waiting for me and so she set out on this journey to ask me to come back home, and that she wanted nothing from me; nothing, except my love and devotion. You should have seen my excitement when this news came to me. I was surprised she knew the reason why I had left the village, since I told no one the reason for my journey. But why tempt fate and ruin such a good fortune? We celebrated our love on our way home. We made love. We were happy. We were in love.

When we got to the outskirts of our village, we were greeted by a mighty stench. A smell that was foul enough to drive flies away. But Dzidzor asked me to go pluck a mango fruit she had seen about five hundred meters back. She said she had a sudden craving for one. I happily set out to pluck this fruit for my love. When I returned, Dzidzor was nowhere to be found. I searched for hours and decided to go into the village to look for her. Perhaps I spent too much time plucking the mango. Perhaps she waited for me at home.

The village was empty, buildings were destroyed, the palace was torched, bodies lay everywhere. Apparently, there had been a war shortly after my departure to my mother’s village; and all the townspeople were killed. Women and children were not spared. The head of the chief of our village was on a spike in front of the torched palace.

I quickly ran to Dzidzor’s hut, and there she was, as beautiful as ever. Even in death, her smile consoled me in many ways.

No! She can’t be dead. No! I had been with a ghost this past seven days. No! Death has stolen from me the essence of my very existence. ‘Blewu lorlornye. Baba!’ This is my story; and it’s a sad one indeed.

Kofi Dzogbewu

SOUL FOOD

Feed my soul
For my soul longs for you

Replenish my aching soul

I have lost it to the soul eater

So have many others
I see it now; the others; like me

Who have had their souls fed

The soul food is love

With every breath of love, a part of my soul is restored

He brings happiness to my heart and fuels it with pleasure

He radiates nutrients to my soul and restores the essence of my person
Love feeds my soul

I now smile at the world, for I have found what I had lost

Through love and happiness, they have returned to me

Now I embrace you like a bench vice

With a mindset of never letting you go.
              -Kofi Dzogbewu 

​LIFELESS STORYTELLERS

This is a piece of writing in response to Poetra Asantewa’s “Coroner”

(A Response to Poetra Asantewa’s “Coroner”)

Death beckons on us all at the climax of purposely arranged circumstances

Whiles Life sits idly by and mocks our struggle against fate

I have investigated by inquest hundreds of deaths not due to natural causes

Some sad. Some pitiful

Some occurring with a bang –

and some of them so pitiful, you can’t help but give in to laughter

I spend all my days hiding from the commotions of the living

I prefer to hang around the silent corpses and dead essences of once promising humans

The stories these lifeless bodies tell are so full of life, its poetry.

Yesterday, the body lying on my table told so good a story, I broke out in tears

The seeming delicacy had within its splitted hollows an artistically woven autobiography of a life lived in solitude, love and music. 

The dimensions of her story branched out in colorful embers of vicious membranes laced with tunes from a flute of African descent

Others have told tales of heartbreaks and migraines and depression smothered by injustice and tribulation that the mind can’t begin to imagine

They told stories of young humans getting caught in a web of pointless affairs and insignificant hurts of yore.

They spoke of modern butterflies plagued with curses of ancient moths and whispers of the dead.

These lifeless storytellers all have their stories spiraling in an abyss of guilt, regret, torture, shame and a lot of unanswered questions; except my dearest Afreh 

My favorite storyteller – Afreh nuamah – narrated her tale in acoustic tunes of contentment

She had a steady stream of happiness in her life story

This, she acquired through defying society and chasing after her own happiness

She sung tales of gigglish love affairs and tickling streams of pleasure ……
Dear voice seeking answers, you define your own storyline in your own handwriting

And even I, your coroner, cannot tell you your story

I can only read them within the splitted catacombs of your lifeless body.
Image source: https://goo.gl/images/Qh7sa5

BOUNCING BABY BOYS 

TALES FROM 2065 – Episode Two (Part 1)

A series of stories about the experience of a young boy in the University of Ghana. The stories are mostly true with some fictionalized parts for the benefit of the story.

TALES FROM 2065 – Episode Two (Part One)

It is a mystery why babies love bouncing so much. When a child begins to really move on his own, though it is crawling or walking yet, they still want to be on the move. They love to jump and bounce no matter where they are. I do not know why babies are referred to as “bouncing”, but from the way they love to bounce always, it must be the reason they call them “bouncing babies”. Amazingly, when baby boys grow up, they tend to hate it very much when they are bounced (especially boys in the University of Ghana).

“To Bounce” – according to the Ghanaian Urban Street Dictionary, is the act of rejecting the proposal or request to be dated or be in a relationship (love) with somebody. 

Being in the university, my closest friends – Roland, Brian, Erik, and Kobla – are some of the boys that have been bounced on several occasions by their female counterparts. 

Let’s begin with the annoying and most unapologetic bouncing baby boy of them all. Roland, the lover boy of the group is like a pest to the ladies. They avoid him when it comes down to being in a relationship with him; but buzz around him like flies always to spend his money. This left my dearest friend always broke and looking for the next way to deceive his relatives to score more cash. Roland’s favorite quote is the Accra Hearts of Oak’s slogan, “Never say die until the bones are rotten”. Roland is the most unrepentant, serially bounced human being I have ever met. This young fella has been bounced by course mates, hall mates, friends of friends, strangers and food vendors on campus. It is as if his superpower is the ability to be bounced by every woman he is attracted to. 

He was bounced by course mates like Nora, Rica and Nella among others. He’s been bounced by hall mates like Dorcas, Ofie, Mimi to name a few. And he was also bounced by friends of friends – Rhoda and Ohemaa. I’m running out of breath mentioning their names. He would have broken down, I’m sure, if not for the welcoming bosom and attention he gets from one lady who I have totally forgotten her name. I however remember the lady’s name is the name of a color. Had it not been for the occasional fix she gives Roland, he would have totally given up on women totally. Roland is a true bouncing baby boy and we accept and love him for who he is. Lest I forget, I heard he has been bounced four times already by his female National Service colleagues. Just so you know. 

The next on the list is Erik – the proud bouncing baby boy. Erik was very matured in thought and deed. He was the most courageous among us. When we spotted a lady we thought was attractive and begin doubting our chances with the lady, Erik would make a move and everything would go perfectly for them until he declares his intensions and then, he would be bounced. Erik has been bounced in by course mates, Robin, Princess and the course mate with the local name (I can’t really remember) and the other course mate with the local name that bounced him in public (in a lecture room, for all to witness0. Erik has also been bounced by the daughter of a well-known Ghanaian boxer. He was just lucky to have escaped with all his teeth intact. 

And the funniest bounce of it all, he made a move on and was bounced by our gorgeous, slender-looking T.A. “Hahaha. Dude, we came to school to learn and not to get married. Chill!” it would interest you to know that Roland and Erik were engaged in a fight for months over a girl they both liked. The sad thing is that, Charlotte – the girl they were fighting over – bounced the two of them. God have mercy ………… 

to be continued

Photo source: Getty images.

Dreaming My Life Away

Salifou professed his love on a Tuesday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, Lisa had told him she was going to think about it. By next month Friday, Salifou had decided to forget about Lisa and focus on his books. Tomorrow is Saturday. Salifou has an Interim Assessment (IA) at 7:30am tomorrow and he was very determined to make at least a ‘B’ in the paper.
When it was 10am, he picked some books and made his way to the reading room. University life had proven to be more complex and difficult than Salifou had imagined. His elder brother and sister had told him about how the university was full of fun and how you didn’t need too much hard work to be successful in your academics. This was not the case when Salifou got to the University of Ghana.  The Grade Point Average (GPA) among other things had been raised, making life in the university close to impossible.
For the next fifteen minutes, Salifou was studying his notes, bent on passing his exams the next day. Suddenly his phone made a beeping sound. Lisa had posted a message on their group page on WhatsApp; wishing everybody the very best in the exams the next day. All of a sudden, thoughts about her flooded Salifou’s mind; making it impossible for him to learn.
“What do you want as birthday present?” Salifou asked excited. “All I want this year is your company throughout the day,” Lisa replied. Good! Salifou knew then that he had made a good choice for a girlfriend. That day, they went to the mall and got some ice cream. Then they watched a movie in the cinema. The happy couple walked hand-in-hand to ‘Shoprite’ and bought some cake.
Lisa nearly run out of her room when a group of her friends hiding in the shadows jumped towards her and shouted “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Salifou had put together a surprise birthday party for her. Lisa run into her boyfriend’s arms and kissed him. Salifou couldn’t be any happier than he was then.
Abruptly, it seemed like a dark shadow had been cast on Salifou. His vision became dark and people started grunting and directing insults at the government. The blackout had shaken him from fantasy land. The reading room was very dark and people were moving out…

*****
…and then she walked away, leaving me to my fantasies. But unknown to her, all I have to do is close my eyes and dream; then we are the happiest couple in the world. The only problem is that I am dreaming my life away.
So you are in love with this girl who is very indifferent towards you. You try as much as possible to get over her and find out too late that she is going to be the cause of you failing your exams. Even though they say love is blind, you can see your failure very clearly and there is nothing you can do about it. Maybe yours isn’t love. Maybe it is a phenomenon yet to be named. You are in love with somebody that you are not so sure will return your love and you are already failing examinations for her.

photo source: aliceofwinterland.tumblr.com

STORY UNTOLD

I see a manwandering the earth from one corner to the other. 
He is drenched in abject misery with eyes as red as a wench’s blood

He wears no sandals
and flies are feasting on his leg wounds.
His ankle is cracked;
and within those cracks, a story begs to be told.

I see a man
Baptized in pure agony
Petrified by the sight of all other men.
He says nothing to any man;
His eyes blink more than the flapping of a tsetse fly’s wings
and his lips are drier than bread.
His clothes are tattered and torn;
but they contained a story yet to be told.

I see a man,
made ugly and sinister by experience and life.
A man with nothing in his heart;
I doubt he has any at all.
He moves from one location to another
Searching for something; something important.
As to what it is, I can’t tell.
‘Hello sir, how do you do?’ I asked.
He looked at me surprised, and replied, ‘how do you do son?’
That said he smiled his way into death
taking with him the story untold.