Published in the Ghanaian Saturday 'Mirror', Saturday September 23, 1995
The man behind the desk was bent over sheets of paper spread all over the desk. He was seriously working, oblivious of the rhythmic humming of the air conditioner, the soft music being played on the radio, and the continuous knocking on his door. The secretary, who was not unaware of this occasional eccentric behaviour of her boss, opened the door and entered the office after knocking for well over three minutes. The man still went on writing, his handsome face contorted in concentration.
Miss Ocansey smiled at the bent form of her boss. She really loved working with him; she had been with him for about three years as his personal secretary, and she had loved every minute of it. What a boss to serve! Committed, dedicated – and handsome too. Mr. Stephen Benson was a man of about thirty two years. Slim and tall, he had a body which spelt inner strength and a face bright with intelligence and vision. A graduate of Oxford University, he had pursued a series of courses, coming out an editor and publisher, all in one piece. For the past six years, he had been managing his own firm, churning out a total of twenty splendid novels in this period, each novel a bestseller. He was unmarried, and flirtatious bachelor of the highest degree too.
“Sir, a visitor to see you, please.”
He still went on writing. Miss Ocansey hesitated for sometime, and tried again. This time, Mr. Benson looked up and realised for the first time that it was past mid-day and that he was very hungry. He had been working for about five continuous hours on the novel “A day to remember”, written by one of his best clients, Nii Noi Narh Snr. A great writer, and a great novel. He wanted to finish it within the month and take a well-deserved rest for a period of time.
“Yes, what can I do for you, Miss?”
“A lady visitor to see you, sir. Can I show her in?”
“Yes, yes. Please do. And a cup of coffee for me, please.” And with that, he resumed his work, with the same serious concentration.
He looked up soon to meet the stare of a lovely lady, standing a short distance away from his desk. She was about twenty-five, he reasoned, and by God, beautiful. For a moment he absent-mindedly stared at her before he came to himself and showed her to a chair in front of him.
The lady sat down gracefully, and with the same grace placed her handbag on her lap. A split moment of silence as their eyes met…
“Mr. Benson Stephen, Editor-publisher at your service, ma’am.”
He had said this a million and two times in his career and he always felt refreshingly confident each time. Today was no exception. It assured him always of his competence.
“Miss Akosua Nketia is my name. I am an author. I have a novel I want published and a friend recommended you to me at a party. She said you were the best this side of the world; so I decided to rush down to see you. I have the manuscript here. Can you take a look, sir? Here, thank you.”
A knock on the door, and the secretary entered with the steaming cup of coffee. Miss Nketia politely refused Mr. Benson’s offer to have a cup made for her. He took the manuscript and skimmed it, taking sips of the coffee intermittently. As he read, he thought also of the beautiful homo sapiens seated before him. A nice fish worthy to be sailed after. Having finished with the script, he placed it on the desk and smiled at the lady.
“Can I call you Akos? Good. The work is perfect, the plot is excellent, I am just in love with the suspense, and your climax is just splendid. I think you’ve got a deal. Anyway, everyone will like to deal with a … beautiful lady like you. Well… let’s see…can you meet me on Friday at eh…Sadisco Hotel so we can discuss this in more detail? At 4.00 pm? Good. See you then.”
Friday evening found them seated around a table on which were two bottles of Star beer and two glasses. They had been chatting for about an hour when Mr. Benson made his next move:
“Miss Nketia, tell me, what do you do with your beauty?”
She smiled shyly and sipped her beer. Mr. Benson asked her to tell him more about herself and how she became a writer.
She proceeded to give him details of her life; what she didn’t tell him, however, was that she was married to one Lieutenant Patrick Atiemo, and that her husband was on a peace-keeping mission in Rwanda. The night turned out to be a long one, with a lot of dancing together. At the end of the day, both had no doubt in their minds that they were in for a something more than a business relationship.
“Friday nite” turned out to be a favourite time for these lovebirds. They went out together to many places, and were hardly apart. Akosua ended up partly giving up her house, and staying with Stephen. This, of course, had a great effect on Stephen’s commitment to his work, failing to publish Nii Noi Narh’s novel, and even that of Akosua; actually, she didn’t care for it any longer. They continued this relationship with an intensity akin to madness until a tragedy caused its abrupt end.
Lt. Atiemo had returned from Rwanda to find his marital home empty, his wife nowhere to be found. He wanted to surprise her, so he didn’t send any notice of his arrival date. After waiting a couple of days without her return from wherever he presumed she had travelled to, he called on a good friend of his to enquire about Akos, as he was getting worried. What his friend told him shook him to his very bones. His wife going out with someone and, not just that, sleeping in his house as well. He just couldn’t take it.
Back home, he thought about the whole situation. He wasn’t one given to wine but he drank that day, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All these years he had lived for his wife alone, toiled to make her life comfortable, been faithful to her. In Rwanday, whilst his colleagues sampled the native women, he had remained faithful to his vows, to love Akos and only her. And what does she offer in return? God, he surely had to end it all. End it, blast it, shoot the bastards in their stomachs for sure.
He took out his pistol and loaded it. His military mind was set in motion. They were the enemy. He knew what he had in mind, the enemy didn’t. He knew they existed, they didn’t. His next move was to find them.
Stephen and Akosua had had a wonderful day. Akos had finally agreed, after a lot of persuasion, to take Stephen to see her home. In high spirits, they entered the sitting room. Stephen instantly felt Akos freeze beside him at the sight of the man sitting behind the dining table with the pistol in his hand. Akos just couldn’t believe her eyes. She never expected her husband to be back so soon; at least, he should have written to inform her he was coming home.
Before she could recover from her shock, two shots rang out – a bullet each finding its mark in Akos and Stephen. As they fell, Atiemo shot his head off.
Stephen was shocked the most about the whole incident. As he went down in pain, he cried “Oh God, save me…” but all he could perceive was darkness, deep darkness enveloping him…
Stephen was sure he was in heaven, and an angel was looking down at him. All around him was bright light. This must be the light that, he learnt ages ago in Sunday school, was supposed to shine forth from the throne of God.
The angels moved about. All he could whisper was “Have mercy, Lord, and give me another chance, another chance.”
Slowly, his gaze focused and the haziness cleared. He was looking up at a nurse, and he realised that he was not in heaven but in a hospital, and the nurse holding his hand was speaking to him.
“Yes, He will give you a chance again, sir. Thank God you are alive and recovering. Been in a coma for the past three days. Shot in the shoulder, you were, and the only one alive of the three of you. Give your life to the Lord, take Him as your own, and you will never regret you did.”
And regret he did not, as later years were to prove. He repented of all his evil, past ways and turned over a fresh new leaf, eventually becoming a minister of the Gospel.
His favourite sermon was the “The Showdown”, the story of a great deliverance.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Story 3: You cannot conceal evil
Me Kweku Ananse, m’eni ate yie (I, Kweku, I am really smart)
Amansan nyinaa bo medin, yiee (Everyone mentions my name)
Me, ye woo me ewia kete kete (I was born at noon, in broad daylight)
Me papa mpo ante asiee ei (Even my dad didn’t understand)
Azaa diee me fa no kwa (I am cunning beyond measure)
Na se me sesa paa diee, me nnye da! (As to changing my ways, I will never do that!)
Anitee ne waga dire diee (Cunning and cheating…)
Ete se m’ataa die! (…are like the clothes I wear!)
Se wo de me kyim a (If you doubt me)
Bisa me nyonko Akoto (Ask my friend Akoto)
Megyee ne yere a na oto nko (I won his wife over, when he was dozing)
Emere a oko Aborokyire mpo (When he had traveled abroad)
Na ewiase bone nsuma no nti (Because, in this world, you can hide sin)
Me suban bone no eda edi (My bad character was exposed)
Nanso eno ekyire nyinaa no (But after all these…)
Me, me koso aye saa daaa!! (I will continue in my trickery!)
The spider worked tirelessly, spinning his web in the corner of the cubicle. It was a huge web with intricate designs. It hummed as it worked, tired but hopeful, hopeful that a good work yielded great dividends. It is he who labors who enjoys the meal.
The fly was enjoying the flight through the nice ambience in the room. The day’s peregrinations have been fruitful. He had traveled far and wide, and he enjoyed various substrates. He was in high spirits and had already started looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Life was good, life was wonderful, and life could be great. The wind was his friend, the air was his companion and he knew no enemies.
It was with such warm thoughts and with such abandon that the fly flew directly into the spider’s web. The fly’s house was just around the corner and here he was stuck in the trap of the dreadful, wicked spider. The fly struggled to get out of the entanglement, silently praying that the spider was asleep. His prayer went unanswered, as he spied the spider coming slowly towards him, with a smile of contentment of his face. It is only the tongue that can interpret a palatable meal, thought the spider as it moved towards the fly. The sweetness of the pudding is in the eating. The fly struggled to go free, but fate and time were not on its side, as the spider moved towards it for the kill, with the fly struggling, struggling, struggling, but in vain…
Akoto woke up with a start, sweating as if he had been in a struggle. The room was warm. He felt hotness on his skin, and got up to sit on his bed. His room-mate slept on, snoring like a scooter motor bike whose exhaust pipe had burst. Kweku M. Ananse was his name and he was the most carefree person Akoto had ever seen. So full of life and ideas.
The hall clock, which was reputed to be as old as the University, chimed five times. The myth was that when the clock stopped chiming, the University would produce the premier first class student in Physics. And the story went that to prevent this, the Physics department set a tithe of its budget each year aside to ensure the clock was always in good shape. Akoto didn’t mind that story much; all he cared for was that the clock was as reliable to offer the correct time as his room-mate and friend, Kweku, was in being mischievous.
Akoto didn’t remember the last time he had dreamt. Even if he did, he didn’t remember the full plot when he woke up. Kweku was the dreamer; he had a tale to tell each morning he woke up. And you could be sure to hear another tale if he slept in the afternoon. Akoto teased him that his many dreams resulted directly from the sumptuous meals he managed to eat each night, before he slept. That and the fertile ground for constructing mischief, the ground he called his brain. Kweku the smart guy, Kweku the mischief, Kweku the fox.
It was five thirty in the morning and try as he could, Akoto couldn’t go back to sleep. The dream was simply interesting and he couldn’t find anything useful to brood over in it. Even though he has seen the namesake of his friend in it. Spiders always weaved webs and that was not news at all.
“Massa, wake up, wake up”, Akoto tried to rouse Kweku from his sleep.
The man slept like a puff adder who slept both day and night because it couldn’t distinguish between the two.
“Kweku! It is time to get ready for lectures!” Akoto persisted.
“Hmm, hmmm, won’t man get any peace in this world at all?” Kweku mumbled. “What is it, eh, what koraa is the matter?”
“Time for bathing, lazy booonnnnneeessss!”
“Kai! And I haven’t ironed too!”
With that, the Spiderman jumped from his bed. He was nicknamed the Spiderman because of his surname. As first, he wasn’t too pleased with the alias, but after watching the movie Spiderman, he realized the character really epitomized what he, Kweku Ananse, could achieve: almost anything. To Kweku, the whole world was like a draught board and the smartest player could always win the game. The rules of the game were: the end justifies the means. It is only the squirrel that sings “things must be done in the right way”. In the gospel of life according to Kweku Ananse, life was hard and the smart take it. His father had made it through life by being smart and the offspring of the snake cannot be short. The elders had advised that one should not be happy when people remark that you were a chip of the old block, because your father might have been a questionable character. But Kweku loved it so. He was indeed the Spiderman.
Akoto was already in the bath-house when Kweku left the room. It was Tuesday, and they both had to pass by the Obaasima Hall to escort Ama Adoma to lectures, hence the early wake-up.
Ama Adoma. The only one advantage his friend Akoto had over him. The prettiest girl he had ever seen in his fast life. Her neck was like ringed sausages, earning her the name Ama Konf, the girl with the beautiful neck. When she smiled, her checks reformed into two dimples, which could hold two pebbles with ease. Her walk was like that of a graceful Adowa dancer. The most beautiful lady on campus and she was Akoto’s fiancée.
Kweku and Akoto were both in their final year at the University College of Amenfi, and had a final semester to go. Kweku hailed from the mid-sector belt of the country and no-one really knew the exact town he came from. Kweku was as evasive about his hometown as he was about the secondary school he attended. When pushed to the wall about his origins, Ananse was known to say to his questioners that if you searched too deeply under the eyes of a corpse, you were certain to see a ghost. But his cunning and cleverness you couldn’t take away from him. Sometimes, Akoto wondered whether his friend really sat for any examinations at all, before entering the University.
“Kweku, please hurry up. We are running late.”
“Ho ho, you and your pushing with respect to Adoma, why? Is she a time-bomb? Will she explode if we don’t get to her on time?”
“Charlie, you can play with your fiancée when you get one. As for me, I won’t let any other person take away my girl with TLC – tender loving care. I will guard her like an Iraqi government minister!”
“Even the Queen of England is not treated like your Adoma. Anyway, I am ready. Let me not be the reason for any break-ups. But remember, there is bound to be a knot in any long string.”
On their way to the Obaasima Hall and then to the lecture hall, Akoto thought of what Kweku had said. Akoto’s mum lived in the United Kingdom and so he traveled abroad on most vacations. His visa had already been obtained and he was due to travel right after his final examinations. He wanted to spend a couple of years, slave away and come back quickly to Ghana to wed his queen. Even the vulture which is not edible nursed its eggs in the branches of a high tree, because man is hard to trust. And Akoto didn’t want to keep Adoma waiting too long after school before marriage and didn’t want to be too far away from her. A glance at Adoma by his side reinforced his resolve to marry her in the shortest possible time.
“What a beauty”, thought Kweku, as he also stole a glance at Adoma as they walked to the lecture hall. His plans were still under construction within his mind. Wasn’t it said that young people kept their money in the pocket of their parents? And for Akoto to marry this girl? Kweku had no problem with getting girlfriends, the problem was in retaining them. But Adoma was special, and he was beginning to like her a lot. A tooth loses its respect and place in an aching jaw and a nugget can never sparkle besides charcoal. Adoma was fit for him, Kweku, and have her he would. It was only in the community of pregnant women that an over-matured coconut dropped on its own accord. He was the smartest man on campus and he would certainly pluck this ripe coconut.
Kweku knew he would have to call on all his skills and fertile schemes, and he was prepared for it. He didn’t mind the fact that this could bring a rift between him and Akoto, because however kind a man is, he would not give his wife as a gift to his friend. He would bide his time and strike at the right time – it was with patience that the experienced hunter killed an elephant. Kweku felt that he was entitled to Adoma, on the same level as Akoto. Wasn’t he the go-between for the two lovebirds in the early days of their relationship and even now? Didn’t he help Akoto win Adoma? Indeed, a bedfellow in sowing the seed should be a part in the harvest, he reasoned. He didn’t mind what people would say when he succeeded. Ethics, friendship, betrayal of trust, all stupid impediments. The scarecrow was made to deceive the coward. He wasn’t a signatory to all those idealist codes!
Nyonko bi sen onua (A friend sticketh closer than a brother)
Nanso Kweku Ananse diee (But Kweku Ananse…)
Oye nyonko (Is a friend who is…)
Sasa bonsam (Like the devil himself!)
Anytime Adoma visited their room, in the absence of Akoto, Kweku tried to subtly suggest to her that Akoto would disappoint her someday. Especially, since he would travel abroad soon after their final exams. On the other hand, Kweku did his best to tell tales about Adoma to Akoto, slipping in little innuendoes about her escapades. Akoto kept his cool about Adoma, insisting that if the eye hasn’t seen it, it is not dirty. As long as he hadn’t heard from two or three witnesses, he would continue to trust his queen.
Soon, it was time to leave school and Akoto to travel abroad. Akoto was traveling right after vacation. On the departure day, Kweku, Adoma and Akoto traveled together to Accra for his flight. The parting was emotional; it was difficult for both Akoto and Adoma, and Ananse joined in their tears. He who cannot weep should not follow a funeral procession, and Ananse played the part of the true friend at that moment, empathizing with the two lovers.
Akoto reaffirmed his commitment to return as soon as possible to marry Adoma. Seeing the flood of tears overflowing the banks of Adoma’s eyes, he promised her that he will come back in less than the two years he had initially planned. Since Adoma was not staying in the city, and didn’t have access to the Internet and couldn’t also get letters through regular mail, Akoto decided that he would be writing frequently through Ananse.
“Akoto, my friend”, Ananse promised, “I will do my best to ensure that communication between the two of you is not broken. After all, the mushroom and the hill have not thanks between them. They are one and the same. What is yours is mine to maintain for your sake.”
“Me d’ase, Kweku. You have been such a good friend, and my heart is light knowing you are here for me.”
It had been six months since Akoto left and Adoma, who was doing her National Service in Breman Asikuma had not heard from him at all in the past four months. Not even a letter. Kweku Ananse called her at the Post office weekly and always said Akoto was yet to send a single letter down for her. After two or so letters in the initial months after his departure, Akoto had just gone mute. The mouth that is used to source a loan is not the same one used to pay it. Akoto had promised her heaven, and sworn to keep her in perpetual touch. Adoma was disappointed and was becoming increasingly disillusioned with Akoto. Her only consolation and forte of strength in the hard times had been Kweku Ananse. Kweku Ananse, an object she was having thoughts of.
Kweku’s plan was working to perfection. Parcels are made to facilitate easy recovery. And he made sure that with each visit and call to Adoma, his hidden message was easily deciphered. Initially, he had forwarded Akoto’s letter to Adoma, to give her the impression that if Akoto should write, Ananse would promptly deliver the letters. He had even traveled the whole night to Breman Asikuma, arriving at dawn, just to prove the point that he (Kweku) treated Akoto’s letter with urgency.
But when two bosom friends vie for one and the same lady, they have chosen a common road to be each other’s enemy. And Kweku was determined to win this war. And Kweku was the linguist in this affair, the middle man in this relationship. Did the elders not say that only the linguist can blow the chief’s ivory horn to sing his highness’ eulogy? Kweku had decided to blow the horn and produce a tune favourable to him. He kept subsequent letters from Akoto to Adoma and also kept those from Adoma to Akoto. His weekly calls and occasional visits to Breman increased in frequency.
“Kweku, this your friend, what sort of life is this? Eh, how can he treat me this way?”, Adoma asked Kweku one afternoon in Asikuma. It was in August, now about a year since Akoto left and many months since Adoma heard from him.
“Adoma, the head is not a coconut that you can open to see what is inside it. Though he is my friend, I cannot explain all his actions”, Kweku said, looking at the beautiful girl before him. It is only a toothless cat that doesn’t lick his lips when a mouse is playing near his nose.
“But Kweku, why? I have always been a faithful partner to your friend. And I have not given him any cause for him to treat me like this!”
“You can understand some men. You usually don’t know the worth of someone until she leaves you. In school, we had a prayer we prayed in the dining hall. Some want, they don’t get; some get they don’t want…”
“But we want and we get so we thank thee oh Lord!”, Adoma finished it. They laughed together. Adoma’s tone turned serious: “Kweku, what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, no, nothing serious. Except that, to the blind, the antics of the monkey and his gesticulations would never be enough to excite. But the monkey would seriously entertain the discerning with the same dance!”
When Ananse left that evening to Accra (he left earlier that day because he said his bank was organizing a week long course for all its banking staff – Kweku was the Human resource officer), Adoma chewed long and hard on his words. Was Kweku telling her that she was blind and not seeing how good he, Kweku, had been to her in those trying times? Kweku was good-looking and had been good, too good, to her. A bird in hand in worth two in the bush, and there was no use waiting for those two in the bush, especially when they still had wings to fly! Who knows what Akoto was doing in the United Kingdom?
But her love for Akoto was so strong, and, Akoto being her first love, she knew it would be difficult getting over him. She was so confused, and she had no other person to turn to but Kweku Ananse. Her many letters given to Kweku to mail for her had not been replied. Kweku informed her that anytime he asked Akoto about the way forward with the relationship with Adoma, Akoto was always evasive.
Akoto was surprised Adoma hadn’t written to her after the very first one he received from her, and that was in the first month he arrived. Thoughts of her filled his every minute when he was awake and thoughts of her put him to sleep each night. Beautiful, lovely, sweet Adoma. He was on track with his promise to return in a year and a half, and he was slaving his life away to accumulate funds. He had bought most of the items needed for both the customary rites (engagement) and the wedding. He had also prepared his costume for the two ceremonies. There was so much he needed to discuss with Adoma at that point – and so much to plan. But her silence baffled him seriously.
The only letters he received from Ghana were from his buddy Kweku Ananse, and they were not missives of good news. Kweku reported that Adoma had started flirting with the chief in the village where she was teaching. Kweku said after numerous chats with her to put a stop to the immoral affair, she still persisted. To Akoto’s query why Adoma wasn’t writing to him, Kweku asked him how someone who is busily enjoying a sumptuous meal would have time to talk. Yet Akoto didn’t lose hope and continued to write, care of Ananse his trusted friend.
Ananse the banker was seriously enjoying the game, and the web he was spinning around Adoma and Akoto. He walked into his dedicated cabinet where he kept the letters of the two lovebirds. The cabinet was divided into two, with labels: Adoma and Akoto. He laughed. He was doubling as a mailman too! He thought his friend a nice fool, and the adage that “a foolish man in a pensive mood is making no judicious plan; he is still a buffoon” came to mind. Kweku intended to take full advantage of his friend’s absolute trust in him. The storm was gathering and when the rains finally come, Kweku was sure to be ready!
So when Kweku proposed to Adoma in October, Adoma’s patience had waned and she was angry as well. If Akoto thought he could treat her shabbily, she would pay him back! Her heart told her to hold on and wait for her love, but her mind entreated her to move on with Kweku. Life was short and not worthy to be wasted on those who take their loved ones for granted. But she decided to wait for the time Akoto had promised to come back. Maybe, he has an explanation for this mistreatment.
Two years had gone by and still no news from Akoto. Adoma gave in to the incessant pressure from Ananse. The wedding at the Holy Tabernacle of the Lord, the latest charismatic church in town, was planned and executed in record time. Kweku convinced Adoma that, knowing her family’s preference for Akoto, it was not prudent to involve them. And in any case, before anyone took the message to them in Dunkwa-on-Offin, the wedding would have been over, and the deal sealed. With the certificate of notice from the local authorities, they approached the church and had the quiet wedding.
Kweku had won the target of two years and he felt so satisfied. In a little over a month, he was ready to move on to his new target. He had trapped the crab and not the water in it. The water could flow away for all he cared! In such a short time, Adoma was beginning to regret her marriage to Kweku!
In December, three years after Akoto had traveled and more than a year after he had promised to come back, Akoto came back to Ghana. He had used his time abroad to study part-time for his law degree. He was so excited on his flight back home. He had not been faithful to his promise, but he was sure Adoma would understand. Especially when he had written to both Adoma herself and Ananse (so he could add his voice to his plea), explaining his delay. Now, he was going to marry the love of his youth. Not hearing from Adoma all these years heightened his excitement further. Akoto trusted Ananse fully, and in many letters, Ananse had assured Akoto that his queen, Adoma, was waiting for him.
On his arrival, he went straight to Kweku’s home and that was where he came crushing down to earth!! His love, the object of his attention, the reason for his almost slave-like toil in a foreign land, the lady of his heart married in his absence! And to the one person he trusted above all, save God! The truism that the ant which would bite you is in your own cloth, so near you, hit him hard! He rushed away from Kweku’s house and went straight back home. He couldn’t forget the smile of victory on Kweku’s face as he left his bosom friend’s house.
Back at home, he wept all his hurt away. Finally, it was the image of his smiling friend that stopped his copious tears. One cannot weep and meditate at the same time. Akoto decided to do all he could to wipe away that smile from the face of the scoundrel. He decided to win back his love. And to teach Kweku Ananse that throughout history, honesty had triumphed over trickery and deception. Yam is sweet but one should eat it in the normal way lest over-swallowing chokes him. Kweku had eaten his yam and Akoto was determined to let him choke on it. He would teach Kweku Ananse that evil is always overcome with good and always exposed. If a snake comes out a hole and invites you to dip your hand into the same, be not afraid because the danger in that hole is already out. Kweku’s trickery and strategy was already out and Akoto knew he could beat him at his own game.
The next day, he went to the school where Adoma was teaching. She had been transferred to Accra after her marriage. Kweku had seen to that. The reunion between the two was frosty at first. At breaktime, Akoto was able to pull her away from her class to a quiet restaurant.
“Adoma, why? Why didn’t you wait for me? Why?” Akoto was holding back tears.
“Eh, please hold on. See the black pot calling the kettle black! I should rather be asking you why you disappointed me so. Why did you not get in touch with me for so long? Why did you not reply my letters? Why did you not bother to write to me? Did you think for once that I am a human being, a woman with feelings?” Adoma let down the dam that held all her hurts, mixed with regrets.
“Are you telling me you never received the many letters I sent to you through Kweku? Even though you had written only once to me? Even when I was informed you were not being faithful to me!”
“Whaaat!! Me being unfaithful to you? You wrote to me through Kweku?”
“Yes, Adoma. I have always written, sharing all my experiences, and also explaining why I had to spend more time to complete my law studies. And I even wrote the latest last month, informing you I was coming back in December. Did you not receive that too?”
“Oh, Jesus!”. That was all Adoma could say, as she broke down and wept. It became obvious to both of them that Kweku had played them apart, to his benefit.
“Adoma, I still love you and you know that. I know you still love me, and that would not change.”
“Akoto, I do know you love me and I still do love you, but I am still married to your friend, that cheat!”
They affirmed their love to each other and pledged to find a way to pay Kweku back in his own coin.
Providence seemed to be on their side. When Adoma told Akoto later that the customary rites were not even performed, Akoto knew he had Kweku by his neck! Because the notice for marriage from the local authorities was valid only on the basis that customary marriage had been done. And also, Akoto found out that the pastor of the church where the wedding was held had not been licensed to perform marriages by the authorities! Therefore, the marriage between Adoma and Kweku was null and void!! The fact that Akoto was a lawyer played no small part in the investigations! Indeed, knowledge of the law had triumphed over trickery!
Trouble, when it comes, doesn’t rain; it pours! Just about the same time that Kweku’s marriage to Adoma was annulled, an audit at the Accra International Bank, where Kweku worked, revealed a serious scandal which Kweku was involved in. A man that builds himself a house of lies usually provides himself with a large window through which to escape when he is in trouble.
Before the police could lay their hands on Ananse, he bolted. “Better escape with shots and injury, than to be captured for the fire” and Kweku was in no mood for the prison!
The wedding of Adoma and Akoto was held in grand style at the Holy Ghost Cathedral, with the heads of the Orthodox churches in attendance. As for Kweku, Adoma and Akoto thought he had his due recompense. Why should the chicken weep and fast in sympathy for a hawk which is imprisoned? In their joy, they had no tears for Ananse, no. Adoma and Akoto can be seen on the streets on Accra, living happily!
A little note: Kweku Ananse is still at large and his next victim could be you!
Amansan nyinaa bo medin, yiee (Everyone mentions my name)
Me, ye woo me ewia kete kete (I was born at noon, in broad daylight)
Me papa mpo ante asiee ei (Even my dad didn’t understand)
Azaa diee me fa no kwa (I am cunning beyond measure)
Na se me sesa paa diee, me nnye da! (As to changing my ways, I will never do that!)
Anitee ne waga dire diee (Cunning and cheating…)
Ete se m’ataa die! (…are like the clothes I wear!)
Se wo de me kyim a (If you doubt me)
Bisa me nyonko Akoto (Ask my friend Akoto)
Megyee ne yere a na oto nko (I won his wife over, when he was dozing)
Emere a oko Aborokyire mpo (When he had traveled abroad)
Na ewiase bone nsuma no nti (Because, in this world, you can hide sin)
Me suban bone no eda edi (My bad character was exposed)
Nanso eno ekyire nyinaa no (But after all these…)
Me, me koso aye saa daaa!! (I will continue in my trickery!)
The spider worked tirelessly, spinning his web in the corner of the cubicle. It was a huge web with intricate designs. It hummed as it worked, tired but hopeful, hopeful that a good work yielded great dividends. It is he who labors who enjoys the meal.
The fly was enjoying the flight through the nice ambience in the room. The day’s peregrinations have been fruitful. He had traveled far and wide, and he enjoyed various substrates. He was in high spirits and had already started looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Life was good, life was wonderful, and life could be great. The wind was his friend, the air was his companion and he knew no enemies.
It was with such warm thoughts and with such abandon that the fly flew directly into the spider’s web. The fly’s house was just around the corner and here he was stuck in the trap of the dreadful, wicked spider. The fly struggled to get out of the entanglement, silently praying that the spider was asleep. His prayer went unanswered, as he spied the spider coming slowly towards him, with a smile of contentment of his face. It is only the tongue that can interpret a palatable meal, thought the spider as it moved towards the fly. The sweetness of the pudding is in the eating. The fly struggled to go free, but fate and time were not on its side, as the spider moved towards it for the kill, with the fly struggling, struggling, struggling, but in vain…
Akoto woke up with a start, sweating as if he had been in a struggle. The room was warm. He felt hotness on his skin, and got up to sit on his bed. His room-mate slept on, snoring like a scooter motor bike whose exhaust pipe had burst. Kweku M. Ananse was his name and he was the most carefree person Akoto had ever seen. So full of life and ideas.
The hall clock, which was reputed to be as old as the University, chimed five times. The myth was that when the clock stopped chiming, the University would produce the premier first class student in Physics. And the story went that to prevent this, the Physics department set a tithe of its budget each year aside to ensure the clock was always in good shape. Akoto didn’t mind that story much; all he cared for was that the clock was as reliable to offer the correct time as his room-mate and friend, Kweku, was in being mischievous.
Akoto didn’t remember the last time he had dreamt. Even if he did, he didn’t remember the full plot when he woke up. Kweku was the dreamer; he had a tale to tell each morning he woke up. And you could be sure to hear another tale if he slept in the afternoon. Akoto teased him that his many dreams resulted directly from the sumptuous meals he managed to eat each night, before he slept. That and the fertile ground for constructing mischief, the ground he called his brain. Kweku the smart guy, Kweku the mischief, Kweku the fox.
It was five thirty in the morning and try as he could, Akoto couldn’t go back to sleep. The dream was simply interesting and he couldn’t find anything useful to brood over in it. Even though he has seen the namesake of his friend in it. Spiders always weaved webs and that was not news at all.
“Massa, wake up, wake up”, Akoto tried to rouse Kweku from his sleep.
The man slept like a puff adder who slept both day and night because it couldn’t distinguish between the two.
“Kweku! It is time to get ready for lectures!” Akoto persisted.
“Hmm, hmmm, won’t man get any peace in this world at all?” Kweku mumbled. “What is it, eh, what koraa is the matter?”
“Time for bathing, lazy booonnnnneeessss!”
“Kai! And I haven’t ironed too!”
With that, the Spiderman jumped from his bed. He was nicknamed the Spiderman because of his surname. As first, he wasn’t too pleased with the alias, but after watching the movie Spiderman, he realized the character really epitomized what he, Kweku Ananse, could achieve: almost anything. To Kweku, the whole world was like a draught board and the smartest player could always win the game. The rules of the game were: the end justifies the means. It is only the squirrel that sings “things must be done in the right way”. In the gospel of life according to Kweku Ananse, life was hard and the smart take it. His father had made it through life by being smart and the offspring of the snake cannot be short. The elders had advised that one should not be happy when people remark that you were a chip of the old block, because your father might have been a questionable character. But Kweku loved it so. He was indeed the Spiderman.
Akoto was already in the bath-house when Kweku left the room. It was Tuesday, and they both had to pass by the Obaasima Hall to escort Ama Adoma to lectures, hence the early wake-up.
Ama Adoma. The only one advantage his friend Akoto had over him. The prettiest girl he had ever seen in his fast life. Her neck was like ringed sausages, earning her the name Ama Konf, the girl with the beautiful neck. When she smiled, her checks reformed into two dimples, which could hold two pebbles with ease. Her walk was like that of a graceful Adowa dancer. The most beautiful lady on campus and she was Akoto’s fiancée.
Kweku and Akoto were both in their final year at the University College of Amenfi, and had a final semester to go. Kweku hailed from the mid-sector belt of the country and no-one really knew the exact town he came from. Kweku was as evasive about his hometown as he was about the secondary school he attended. When pushed to the wall about his origins, Ananse was known to say to his questioners that if you searched too deeply under the eyes of a corpse, you were certain to see a ghost. But his cunning and cleverness you couldn’t take away from him. Sometimes, Akoto wondered whether his friend really sat for any examinations at all, before entering the University.
“Kweku, please hurry up. We are running late.”
“Ho ho, you and your pushing with respect to Adoma, why? Is she a time-bomb? Will she explode if we don’t get to her on time?”
“Charlie, you can play with your fiancée when you get one. As for me, I won’t let any other person take away my girl with TLC – tender loving care. I will guard her like an Iraqi government minister!”
“Even the Queen of England is not treated like your Adoma. Anyway, I am ready. Let me not be the reason for any break-ups. But remember, there is bound to be a knot in any long string.”
On their way to the Obaasima Hall and then to the lecture hall, Akoto thought of what Kweku had said. Akoto’s mum lived in the United Kingdom and so he traveled abroad on most vacations. His visa had already been obtained and he was due to travel right after his final examinations. He wanted to spend a couple of years, slave away and come back quickly to Ghana to wed his queen. Even the vulture which is not edible nursed its eggs in the branches of a high tree, because man is hard to trust. And Akoto didn’t want to keep Adoma waiting too long after school before marriage and didn’t want to be too far away from her. A glance at Adoma by his side reinforced his resolve to marry her in the shortest possible time.
“What a beauty”, thought Kweku, as he also stole a glance at Adoma as they walked to the lecture hall. His plans were still under construction within his mind. Wasn’t it said that young people kept their money in the pocket of their parents? And for Akoto to marry this girl? Kweku had no problem with getting girlfriends, the problem was in retaining them. But Adoma was special, and he was beginning to like her a lot. A tooth loses its respect and place in an aching jaw and a nugget can never sparkle besides charcoal. Adoma was fit for him, Kweku, and have her he would. It was only in the community of pregnant women that an over-matured coconut dropped on its own accord. He was the smartest man on campus and he would certainly pluck this ripe coconut.
Kweku knew he would have to call on all his skills and fertile schemes, and he was prepared for it. He didn’t mind the fact that this could bring a rift between him and Akoto, because however kind a man is, he would not give his wife as a gift to his friend. He would bide his time and strike at the right time – it was with patience that the experienced hunter killed an elephant. Kweku felt that he was entitled to Adoma, on the same level as Akoto. Wasn’t he the go-between for the two lovebirds in the early days of their relationship and even now? Didn’t he help Akoto win Adoma? Indeed, a bedfellow in sowing the seed should be a part in the harvest, he reasoned. He didn’t mind what people would say when he succeeded. Ethics, friendship, betrayal of trust, all stupid impediments. The scarecrow was made to deceive the coward. He wasn’t a signatory to all those idealist codes!
Nyonko bi sen onua (A friend sticketh closer than a brother)
Nanso Kweku Ananse diee (But Kweku Ananse…)
Oye nyonko (Is a friend who is…)
Sasa bonsam (Like the devil himself!)
Anytime Adoma visited their room, in the absence of Akoto, Kweku tried to subtly suggest to her that Akoto would disappoint her someday. Especially, since he would travel abroad soon after their final exams. On the other hand, Kweku did his best to tell tales about Adoma to Akoto, slipping in little innuendoes about her escapades. Akoto kept his cool about Adoma, insisting that if the eye hasn’t seen it, it is not dirty. As long as he hadn’t heard from two or three witnesses, he would continue to trust his queen.
Soon, it was time to leave school and Akoto to travel abroad. Akoto was traveling right after vacation. On the departure day, Kweku, Adoma and Akoto traveled together to Accra for his flight. The parting was emotional; it was difficult for both Akoto and Adoma, and Ananse joined in their tears. He who cannot weep should not follow a funeral procession, and Ananse played the part of the true friend at that moment, empathizing with the two lovers.
Akoto reaffirmed his commitment to return as soon as possible to marry Adoma. Seeing the flood of tears overflowing the banks of Adoma’s eyes, he promised her that he will come back in less than the two years he had initially planned. Since Adoma was not staying in the city, and didn’t have access to the Internet and couldn’t also get letters through regular mail, Akoto decided that he would be writing frequently through Ananse.
“Akoto, my friend”, Ananse promised, “I will do my best to ensure that communication between the two of you is not broken. After all, the mushroom and the hill have not thanks between them. They are one and the same. What is yours is mine to maintain for your sake.”
“Me d’ase, Kweku. You have been such a good friend, and my heart is light knowing you are here for me.”
It had been six months since Akoto left and Adoma, who was doing her National Service in Breman Asikuma had not heard from him at all in the past four months. Not even a letter. Kweku Ananse called her at the Post office weekly and always said Akoto was yet to send a single letter down for her. After two or so letters in the initial months after his departure, Akoto had just gone mute. The mouth that is used to source a loan is not the same one used to pay it. Akoto had promised her heaven, and sworn to keep her in perpetual touch. Adoma was disappointed and was becoming increasingly disillusioned with Akoto. Her only consolation and forte of strength in the hard times had been Kweku Ananse. Kweku Ananse, an object she was having thoughts of.
Kweku’s plan was working to perfection. Parcels are made to facilitate easy recovery. And he made sure that with each visit and call to Adoma, his hidden message was easily deciphered. Initially, he had forwarded Akoto’s letter to Adoma, to give her the impression that if Akoto should write, Ananse would promptly deliver the letters. He had even traveled the whole night to Breman Asikuma, arriving at dawn, just to prove the point that he (Kweku) treated Akoto’s letter with urgency.
But when two bosom friends vie for one and the same lady, they have chosen a common road to be each other’s enemy. And Kweku was determined to win this war. And Kweku was the linguist in this affair, the middle man in this relationship. Did the elders not say that only the linguist can blow the chief’s ivory horn to sing his highness’ eulogy? Kweku had decided to blow the horn and produce a tune favourable to him. He kept subsequent letters from Akoto to Adoma and also kept those from Adoma to Akoto. His weekly calls and occasional visits to Breman increased in frequency.
“Kweku, this your friend, what sort of life is this? Eh, how can he treat me this way?”, Adoma asked Kweku one afternoon in Asikuma. It was in August, now about a year since Akoto left and many months since Adoma heard from him.
“Adoma, the head is not a coconut that you can open to see what is inside it. Though he is my friend, I cannot explain all his actions”, Kweku said, looking at the beautiful girl before him. It is only a toothless cat that doesn’t lick his lips when a mouse is playing near his nose.
“But Kweku, why? I have always been a faithful partner to your friend. And I have not given him any cause for him to treat me like this!”
“You can understand some men. You usually don’t know the worth of someone until she leaves you. In school, we had a prayer we prayed in the dining hall. Some want, they don’t get; some get they don’t want…”
“But we want and we get so we thank thee oh Lord!”, Adoma finished it. They laughed together. Adoma’s tone turned serious: “Kweku, what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, no, nothing serious. Except that, to the blind, the antics of the monkey and his gesticulations would never be enough to excite. But the monkey would seriously entertain the discerning with the same dance!”
When Ananse left that evening to Accra (he left earlier that day because he said his bank was organizing a week long course for all its banking staff – Kweku was the Human resource officer), Adoma chewed long and hard on his words. Was Kweku telling her that she was blind and not seeing how good he, Kweku, had been to her in those trying times? Kweku was good-looking and had been good, too good, to her. A bird in hand in worth two in the bush, and there was no use waiting for those two in the bush, especially when they still had wings to fly! Who knows what Akoto was doing in the United Kingdom?
But her love for Akoto was so strong, and, Akoto being her first love, she knew it would be difficult getting over him. She was so confused, and she had no other person to turn to but Kweku Ananse. Her many letters given to Kweku to mail for her had not been replied. Kweku informed her that anytime he asked Akoto about the way forward with the relationship with Adoma, Akoto was always evasive.
Akoto was surprised Adoma hadn’t written to her after the very first one he received from her, and that was in the first month he arrived. Thoughts of her filled his every minute when he was awake and thoughts of her put him to sleep each night. Beautiful, lovely, sweet Adoma. He was on track with his promise to return in a year and a half, and he was slaving his life away to accumulate funds. He had bought most of the items needed for both the customary rites (engagement) and the wedding. He had also prepared his costume for the two ceremonies. There was so much he needed to discuss with Adoma at that point – and so much to plan. But her silence baffled him seriously.
The only letters he received from Ghana were from his buddy Kweku Ananse, and they were not missives of good news. Kweku reported that Adoma had started flirting with the chief in the village where she was teaching. Kweku said after numerous chats with her to put a stop to the immoral affair, she still persisted. To Akoto’s query why Adoma wasn’t writing to him, Kweku asked him how someone who is busily enjoying a sumptuous meal would have time to talk. Yet Akoto didn’t lose hope and continued to write, care of Ananse his trusted friend.
Ananse the banker was seriously enjoying the game, and the web he was spinning around Adoma and Akoto. He walked into his dedicated cabinet where he kept the letters of the two lovebirds. The cabinet was divided into two, with labels: Adoma and Akoto. He laughed. He was doubling as a mailman too! He thought his friend a nice fool, and the adage that “a foolish man in a pensive mood is making no judicious plan; he is still a buffoon” came to mind. Kweku intended to take full advantage of his friend’s absolute trust in him. The storm was gathering and when the rains finally come, Kweku was sure to be ready!
So when Kweku proposed to Adoma in October, Adoma’s patience had waned and she was angry as well. If Akoto thought he could treat her shabbily, she would pay him back! Her heart told her to hold on and wait for her love, but her mind entreated her to move on with Kweku. Life was short and not worthy to be wasted on those who take their loved ones for granted. But she decided to wait for the time Akoto had promised to come back. Maybe, he has an explanation for this mistreatment.
Two years had gone by and still no news from Akoto. Adoma gave in to the incessant pressure from Ananse. The wedding at the Holy Tabernacle of the Lord, the latest charismatic church in town, was planned and executed in record time. Kweku convinced Adoma that, knowing her family’s preference for Akoto, it was not prudent to involve them. And in any case, before anyone took the message to them in Dunkwa-on-Offin, the wedding would have been over, and the deal sealed. With the certificate of notice from the local authorities, they approached the church and had the quiet wedding.
Kweku had won the target of two years and he felt so satisfied. In a little over a month, he was ready to move on to his new target. He had trapped the crab and not the water in it. The water could flow away for all he cared! In such a short time, Adoma was beginning to regret her marriage to Kweku!
In December, three years after Akoto had traveled and more than a year after he had promised to come back, Akoto came back to Ghana. He had used his time abroad to study part-time for his law degree. He was so excited on his flight back home. He had not been faithful to his promise, but he was sure Adoma would understand. Especially when he had written to both Adoma herself and Ananse (so he could add his voice to his plea), explaining his delay. Now, he was going to marry the love of his youth. Not hearing from Adoma all these years heightened his excitement further. Akoto trusted Ananse fully, and in many letters, Ananse had assured Akoto that his queen, Adoma, was waiting for him.
On his arrival, he went straight to Kweku’s home and that was where he came crushing down to earth!! His love, the object of his attention, the reason for his almost slave-like toil in a foreign land, the lady of his heart married in his absence! And to the one person he trusted above all, save God! The truism that the ant which would bite you is in your own cloth, so near you, hit him hard! He rushed away from Kweku’s house and went straight back home. He couldn’t forget the smile of victory on Kweku’s face as he left his bosom friend’s house.
Back at home, he wept all his hurt away. Finally, it was the image of his smiling friend that stopped his copious tears. One cannot weep and meditate at the same time. Akoto decided to do all he could to wipe away that smile from the face of the scoundrel. He decided to win back his love. And to teach Kweku Ananse that throughout history, honesty had triumphed over trickery and deception. Yam is sweet but one should eat it in the normal way lest over-swallowing chokes him. Kweku had eaten his yam and Akoto was determined to let him choke on it. He would teach Kweku Ananse that evil is always overcome with good and always exposed. If a snake comes out a hole and invites you to dip your hand into the same, be not afraid because the danger in that hole is already out. Kweku’s trickery and strategy was already out and Akoto knew he could beat him at his own game.
The next day, he went to the school where Adoma was teaching. She had been transferred to Accra after her marriage. Kweku had seen to that. The reunion between the two was frosty at first. At breaktime, Akoto was able to pull her away from her class to a quiet restaurant.
“Adoma, why? Why didn’t you wait for me? Why?” Akoto was holding back tears.
“Eh, please hold on. See the black pot calling the kettle black! I should rather be asking you why you disappointed me so. Why did you not get in touch with me for so long? Why did you not reply my letters? Why did you not bother to write to me? Did you think for once that I am a human being, a woman with feelings?” Adoma let down the dam that held all her hurts, mixed with regrets.
“Are you telling me you never received the many letters I sent to you through Kweku? Even though you had written only once to me? Even when I was informed you were not being faithful to me!”
“Whaaat!! Me being unfaithful to you? You wrote to me through Kweku?”
“Yes, Adoma. I have always written, sharing all my experiences, and also explaining why I had to spend more time to complete my law studies. And I even wrote the latest last month, informing you I was coming back in December. Did you not receive that too?”
“Oh, Jesus!”. That was all Adoma could say, as she broke down and wept. It became obvious to both of them that Kweku had played them apart, to his benefit.
“Adoma, I still love you and you know that. I know you still love me, and that would not change.”
“Akoto, I do know you love me and I still do love you, but I am still married to your friend, that cheat!”
They affirmed their love to each other and pledged to find a way to pay Kweku back in his own coin.
Providence seemed to be on their side. When Adoma told Akoto later that the customary rites were not even performed, Akoto knew he had Kweku by his neck! Because the notice for marriage from the local authorities was valid only on the basis that customary marriage had been done. And also, Akoto found out that the pastor of the church where the wedding was held had not been licensed to perform marriages by the authorities! Therefore, the marriage between Adoma and Kweku was null and void!! The fact that Akoto was a lawyer played no small part in the investigations! Indeed, knowledge of the law had triumphed over trickery!
Trouble, when it comes, doesn’t rain; it pours! Just about the same time that Kweku’s marriage to Adoma was annulled, an audit at the Accra International Bank, where Kweku worked, revealed a serious scandal which Kweku was involved in. A man that builds himself a house of lies usually provides himself with a large window through which to escape when he is in trouble.
Before the police could lay their hands on Ananse, he bolted. “Better escape with shots and injury, than to be captured for the fire” and Kweku was in no mood for the prison!
The wedding of Adoma and Akoto was held in grand style at the Holy Ghost Cathedral, with the heads of the Orthodox churches in attendance. As for Kweku, Adoma and Akoto thought he had his due recompense. Why should the chicken weep and fast in sympathy for a hawk which is imprisoned? In their joy, they had no tears for Ananse, no. Adoma and Akoto can be seen on the streets on Accra, living happily!
A little note: Kweku Ananse is still at large and his next victim could be you!
Story 2: Project Akoma
For making it to the classroom early, he was pleased with himself. The morning was good and the milieu was silent. Having rained the previous day, the humid air that blew combined with the peaceful ambience to give a soothing result. For the umpteenth time that morning, he was grateful to be alive.
It took some time for the next person to enter the lecture room. The lecture was not to begin till after the next half hour and it was the best time to reflect on the happenings of the previous day. To take stock and to re-strategise, so to speak.
Akos had been his target for almost two semesters. When the heart decides, it is left to the mind to make plans. His heart had sent a message through the fastest nerve couriers to the brain cells that it had finally found its desire. The missing rib. And will the brain act fast? He had started to think then.
It was found out that the target beauty was in the second year, on the tall continental block, in fact on the last floor, and in a different faculty. There were no common grounds for ever meeting. This meant that such avenues had to be found and exploited; otherwise, they had to be created. Akos, it was found out through research, was hard to get, and had been labelled a no-go area. That was another issue to tackle. The matter at hand then assumed project status. More literature review had to be made, all the various methodologies had to be considered, the best out of the lot had to be settled on, and the cost estimation had to be made and presented. Project Heart was born.
He recruited friends to join the project team. They had various assignments to do. He as the general overseer and the owner of the patent did the brainwork and asked for their help when required. He followed her to church, and observed her schedules throughout the weeks. After lobbying for a while, he managed to get introduced to the beauty after one Sunday service and managed to get her to remember his name. A few visits to the continental block assured him of the method to choose. The first two chapters were done with.
The experimental procedure was put in place. That meant that the costs had to be incurred. Gifts started to flow, and the visits took a more regular status. Reception wasn’t bad. Roommates’ attitudes were encouraging. Everything was going according to plan. Getting to the latter part of the chapter, a few strolls were arranged – even though they happened whilst he was being seen off.
Then, the last chapter. Results, discussion and conclusion. The previous day, he decided the time was ripe to spill the beans. He proposed. And the results were not good. Apparently, he didn’t prepare the grounds well, because the proposal bounced; the ground was too hard. Upon reflection, he had been able to do the discussion of the results. The methodology chosen was not appropriate. The optimum conditions weren’t achieved. The titration to the end point was not accurate.
The conclusion of the matter as he sat in the lecture room was this: the project will not be abandoned. Though he trailed at the first trial, he was prepared to take it up in the next academic year. He will have to do more research on the alternative methods. He won’t have to do any literature review since neither the topic nor the specimen had changed. If anything had changed, he had. He had gained more insight into such project. For one thing he was grateful: he knew one way not to do it successfully. He agreed perfectly with Thomas Eddison that discouragement was out, because “every wrong attempt discarded is often a step forward.”
It took some time for the next person to enter the lecture room. The lecture was not to begin till after the next half hour and it was the best time to reflect on the happenings of the previous day. To take stock and to re-strategise, so to speak.
Akos had been his target for almost two semesters. When the heart decides, it is left to the mind to make plans. His heart had sent a message through the fastest nerve couriers to the brain cells that it had finally found its desire. The missing rib. And will the brain act fast? He had started to think then.
It was found out that the target beauty was in the second year, on the tall continental block, in fact on the last floor, and in a different faculty. There were no common grounds for ever meeting. This meant that such avenues had to be found and exploited; otherwise, they had to be created. Akos, it was found out through research, was hard to get, and had been labelled a no-go area. That was another issue to tackle. The matter at hand then assumed project status. More literature review had to be made, all the various methodologies had to be considered, the best out of the lot had to be settled on, and the cost estimation had to be made and presented. Project Heart was born.
He recruited friends to join the project team. They had various assignments to do. He as the general overseer and the owner of the patent did the brainwork and asked for their help when required. He followed her to church, and observed her schedules throughout the weeks. After lobbying for a while, he managed to get introduced to the beauty after one Sunday service and managed to get her to remember his name. A few visits to the continental block assured him of the method to choose. The first two chapters were done with.
The experimental procedure was put in place. That meant that the costs had to be incurred. Gifts started to flow, and the visits took a more regular status. Reception wasn’t bad. Roommates’ attitudes were encouraging. Everything was going according to plan. Getting to the latter part of the chapter, a few strolls were arranged – even though they happened whilst he was being seen off.
Then, the last chapter. Results, discussion and conclusion. The previous day, he decided the time was ripe to spill the beans. He proposed. And the results were not good. Apparently, he didn’t prepare the grounds well, because the proposal bounced; the ground was too hard. Upon reflection, he had been able to do the discussion of the results. The methodology chosen was not appropriate. The optimum conditions weren’t achieved. The titration to the end point was not accurate.
The conclusion of the matter as he sat in the lecture room was this: the project will not be abandoned. Though he trailed at the first trial, he was prepared to take it up in the next academic year. He will have to do more research on the alternative methods. He won’t have to do any literature review since neither the topic nor the specimen had changed. If anything had changed, he had. He had gained more insight into such project. For one thing he was grateful: he knew one way not to do it successfully. He agreed perfectly with Thomas Eddison that discouragement was out, because “every wrong attempt discarded is often a step forward.”
Story 1: Across the Mecca Bridge
It was a rich white sky laced with blue that looked down on the earth that morning. It had rained the previous night and the streets were strewn with leaves and dead branches. The fragrance of earth, leaves, roses, soil diffused into one, filled the air.
The grass still held morning dew, forming cute little droplets on the surfaces of the leaves. There was no wind, no sunshine. It was all serene, peaceful.
Egyabemaa’s face matched the spirit of the morning. As usual, it was radiant with joy. She sang as she descended the stairs, a song she had been singing from the bathroom.
When peace like a river
Attended my way
When sorrows like sweet billows roll
She went through the great doors opposite the P-Lodge and into the street. Her heart was gay and she was at peace. It felt good to be alive!
Whatever my lot
Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well
With my soul
Others on their way to lectures passed her. Some waved and hurried on. She preferred to pass through Redemption Hall. The path under the trees was part of her route. As she went down the hilly plain towards the roundabout, Adwoa bypassed her. Her room-mate was always in a hurry. Egyabemaa looked at her wrist watch, and realised she had enough time to move on at her normal pace. She was over the Mecca bridge now.
It is well, it is well
With my soul, with my soul
It is well, it is well
With my soul
Many others were crossing over the bridge. She gave no attention to anyone and none gave her any tangible notice. She sang on as she crossed the street at the Agric Junction. The lectures were due to begin in five minutes.
Carl woke up with a start, the alarm clock’s high pitch notes piercing his eardrums. He really had to hurry up, if he was to see that lovely lady he had been stealing glances at across the Mecca Bridge for the good part of the previous couple of weeks.
He had found out through observational investigation that if he got to the Bridge around 7.10 am on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, he was bound to catch a glimpse of her and hear her sing one of those songs that sounded like heavenly angelic tunes in his ears.
It was clear she had seven-fifteen lectures on these days. He had been following and admiring her those past weeks but had not been able to say even “Hi”.
His room-mate had teased that Carl had an almost zero rating on the ‘Confidometer’, the confidence scale.
Carl was also described by his friends as one who saw ladies as trees and honestly he had no feelings towards them. But now, this mysteriously lovely lady, this singing nightingale, had captured his heart and the feeling he was experiencing was a little short of alien to him and he really wanted to see her again.
But he was late today. it was 7.50 am and by now the lady must have passed the Mecca Bridge already. He rushed to take his bath, and dressed up in record time. He had a lecture at 8.15am. Quickly he set out for Mecca. By then it was 8.30am.
As he approached the Mecca Bridge, he saw her. It was her, and she must have closed from her morning lecture. She was standing on one side of the bridge, reading a notice that had been chalked on the street, right on the bridge.
He approached the bridge on the other side, and stole a glance. Their eyes met, and locked for a couple of seconds. Then, she smiled. ‘Hi’, she said. ‘Hi…hi…hi’, he stuttered.
She asked him what Akataslopsa stood for; that group was to meet at Majesty Hall, the notice read. After his explanation, she expressed her thanks, gave him a smile that warmed his whole being and walked away, singing.
He was so elated at being able to talk with her, that it was minutes later that he realised he hadn’t even asked her name! “One day at a time, sweet Jesus”, he sang to himself, as he walked up to his lecture which was almost over by then.
It took Carl yet another two weeks of glancing to resolve to finally break the ice, and become friends with her. One morning he got to the Admin Block before 7am and sat under the shed, waiting and watching.
When he saw her walking towards the bridge, he crossed over to her and with anxiety written all over him in block letters, asked her name and room number. She just smiled. That was the starter he needed.
Their friendship evolved into close association, from strength to strength it grew. When in the following semester he proposed to her and she said “yeah!”, his joy knew no bounds. And guess where he made the proposal. Across the Mecca Bridge.
The grass still held morning dew, forming cute little droplets on the surfaces of the leaves. There was no wind, no sunshine. It was all serene, peaceful.
Egyabemaa’s face matched the spirit of the morning. As usual, it was radiant with joy. She sang as she descended the stairs, a song she had been singing from the bathroom.
When peace like a river
Attended my way
When sorrows like sweet billows roll
She went through the great doors opposite the P-Lodge and into the street. Her heart was gay and she was at peace. It felt good to be alive!
Whatever my lot
Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well
With my soul
Others on their way to lectures passed her. Some waved and hurried on. She preferred to pass through Redemption Hall. The path under the trees was part of her route. As she went down the hilly plain towards the roundabout, Adwoa bypassed her. Her room-mate was always in a hurry. Egyabemaa looked at her wrist watch, and realised she had enough time to move on at her normal pace. She was over the Mecca bridge now.
It is well, it is well
With my soul, with my soul
It is well, it is well
With my soul
Many others were crossing over the bridge. She gave no attention to anyone and none gave her any tangible notice. She sang on as she crossed the street at the Agric Junction. The lectures were due to begin in five minutes.
Carl woke up with a start, the alarm clock’s high pitch notes piercing his eardrums. He really had to hurry up, if he was to see that lovely lady he had been stealing glances at across the Mecca Bridge for the good part of the previous couple of weeks.
He had found out through observational investigation that if he got to the Bridge around 7.10 am on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, he was bound to catch a glimpse of her and hear her sing one of those songs that sounded like heavenly angelic tunes in his ears.
It was clear she had seven-fifteen lectures on these days. He had been following and admiring her those past weeks but had not been able to say even “Hi”.
His room-mate had teased that Carl had an almost zero rating on the ‘Confidometer’, the confidence scale.
Carl was also described by his friends as one who saw ladies as trees and honestly he had no feelings towards them. But now, this mysteriously lovely lady, this singing nightingale, had captured his heart and the feeling he was experiencing was a little short of alien to him and he really wanted to see her again.
But he was late today. it was 7.50 am and by now the lady must have passed the Mecca Bridge already. He rushed to take his bath, and dressed up in record time. He had a lecture at 8.15am. Quickly he set out for Mecca. By then it was 8.30am.
As he approached the Mecca Bridge, he saw her. It was her, and she must have closed from her morning lecture. She was standing on one side of the bridge, reading a notice that had been chalked on the street, right on the bridge.
He approached the bridge on the other side, and stole a glance. Their eyes met, and locked for a couple of seconds. Then, she smiled. ‘Hi’, she said. ‘Hi…hi…hi’, he stuttered.
She asked him what Akataslopsa stood for; that group was to meet at Majesty Hall, the notice read. After his explanation, she expressed her thanks, gave him a smile that warmed his whole being and walked away, singing.
He was so elated at being able to talk with her, that it was minutes later that he realised he hadn’t even asked her name! “One day at a time, sweet Jesus”, he sang to himself, as he walked up to his lecture which was almost over by then.
It took Carl yet another two weeks of glancing to resolve to finally break the ice, and become friends with her. One morning he got to the Admin Block before 7am and sat under the shed, waiting and watching.
When he saw her walking towards the bridge, he crossed over to her and with anxiety written all over him in block letters, asked her name and room number. She just smiled. That was the starter he needed.
Their friendship evolved into close association, from strength to strength it grew. When in the following semester he proposed to her and she said “yeah!”, his joy knew no bounds. And guess where he made the proposal. Across the Mecca Bridge.
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