It’s been an awfully long time, please forgive me! :’(
On the other hand,I just couldn’t conclude this piece in one fell swoop (it would have been too long and you would have fallen asleep halfway through!). So I decided to divide the last part into two. Next week, my story ends. But today, please enjoy…

I came to roughly about 5 minutes later as I heard a man’s voice, seemingly from very far away. I tried to get up, wincing as I felt a sharp pain in my right flank that caused me to grit my teeth, barely stopping a grunt of pain from escaping. I heard him a bit clearly now, closer – he was speaking broken English.

“Herh! What dey do you? You booze?!”

I ignored him as I reached underneath my car to retrieve the keys I’d flipped there when I dropped to the ground – or more specifically, when I was dropped to the ground. With no small effort, I heaved myself up to my feet and would have passed out once more as my head swam again, were it not for the security guard who caught me as I slumped.

He half-dragged/carried me to his post at the far end of the parking lot. I could tell that he was worried now, seeing my state – something of such a nature shouldn’t have taken place under his watch. He sat me down and with a resigned look on his face, lifted the handset of his telephone off the cradle to place a call – to Campus Security I guessed.

Before he could finish placing the call, I ripped out the cord from the wall jack, shaking my head.

”No. It’s okay, I’m fine.” He’d helped me so far and I knew he could get into trouble over the parking lot incident so I would do everything in my power to make it all ‘go away’. I saw the look of relief on his face as I waved him away from the phone and knew I’d done the right thing. He magically produced a makeshift ice pack which I placed on my pounding forehead.

“But you fit drive go like so?” he enquired, showing genuine concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I assured him. And it was true. My head had cleared up a bit, the pain receding into a dull ache that only became worse when I turned my head a bit too rapidly. Those bastards had really done a number on me!

In the next few minutes he had helped me into my car and I drove out of Faculty. Even breathing was difficult as breathing too deeply elicited the sharpest of pains in my sides. I started to reminisce on the events of the past few days that led up to the parking lot brawl that night to get my mind off my poor predicament…

I don’t know how I got to my room in one piece that rainy night as I left Marcia’s end. Arriving at my block in record time, that damning piece of paper was still clutched in my fist as I raced through the slow drizzle from the parking lot.

I sank unto my bed as I flipped on my bedside lamp to go over those words again: Love of my Love… dreams all true…beats for me… for you too.

I was floored. Two main issues became instantly clear to me, simultaneously presenting 2 new questions to me. Understanding the implications of answering one of them, I decided to tackle the other – what I’d subconsciously dubbed ‘The Case of the Heart’.

That choice still gave me some pause. One of my favourite characters in a story had made a statement that stuck with me long after I’d finished reading the novel. He said “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” I’d even used it a few times and found it always worked…well, most of the time anyway.

Here, the impossible was that Jason’s ghost or some part of his spirit was still hovering around, doing stuff – poltergeist style. Considering that I’d not experienced any ‘typical’ ghost-y moments so far, and that we had both learned our Sunday School lessons well : “…it is appointed unto man to die once, afterwards is judgement…” or something like that notwithstanding. So no, I wasn’t being haunted by Jason’s ghost. And if that was the case, maybe the simplest answer was contained in my new heart itself! Another Pop reference stated “when everything goes wrong, start from the beginning”.

I remembered something similar to my case I’d stumbled upon when researching for a Psychology paper I’d taken on for extra credit in First Year. Something about a cornea transplant patient who’d begun seeing strange people through that eye and something or the other happened…not much help, that memory. Or?

When in doubt – Google! I drew out my Ultrabook from the satchel I’d earlier left lying at the foot of my bed and within seconds had connected to the local Wi-Fi network and was typing in search parameters. “Memory in transplanted organ”. I hesitated for all of a full second before hitting the ‘Return’ key. Who knew what Pandora’s box I was opening now?!

Cellular Memory they called it. From there on out, the opinions were so varied that after a full hour skipping from site to site, I was thoroughly confused. All they could unanimously agree on was that it ‘probably’ existed, and that it made up for some really interesting transference of certain characteristics between donor and recipient – an affinity for beer or certain foods; change in social nature; and even a newfound attraction towards persons the donor had strong emotional ties too!

I purposely blurred over the last bit – I wasn’t ready to tackle the Second Matter yet. I instead decided to take a heads-on approach towards evaluating this ‘transference’ thing. My gaze was immediately drawn to Jason’s Mac. “Game on!” I said out loud.

————————————————————————————————————–

3 hours later saw me taking out the final Boss in Jade Empire, one of Jason’s games I’d never played before… I dropped the wireless gamepad to the carpet just as the final cutscene ended. Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! As before, it started up suddenly. But this time, I had a rough idea of what was going on.

“Let me get this straight,” I began, speaking aloud to no one in particular. (I found it at times helped to clear my mind when I acted as if I had an intelligent audience hanging onto my every word.) “So I got not just Jason’s heart…,” the thumping increased in intensity – THUMP THUMP! THUMP THUMP! THUMP THUMP! – “…but also some inherent abilities that he had??!” Speaking it aloud honestly did nothing to reduce the abject absurdity of the thought. But what about that incredible run down the court that afternoon? Jason couldn’t do THAT!

I got up from Jason’s Station and sat on my own bed instead, still deep in thought. The only logical solution to that was that somehow, we combined our abilities to do something we couldn’t have done on our own that afternoon. Ghanaian Firestorm?! I laughed out loud at that.

“So in conclusion,” I ticked them off with my fingers, “I can do some things that Jason could; I can access some innate abilities that Jason had and ‘add’ them to mine to do pretty amazing stuff; I have some of his memories & feelings now…” At this I paused, reluctant to continue due to Issue Number 2. Whatever, I thought finally as the loud thumping slowed to a single strong beat just before I confronted my biggest problem.

“And so therefore do I like Marcia because I do so, or because he did?!” The multi-million dollar question. The loud thumping had stopped.

——————————————————————————————–

That thought, or its many variations thereof, swamped my waking day for the next 4 days. During that time, I was practically useless at the Studio. ‘Useless’ meaning that I would show up  and do what was required but fail to add that extra bit of myself that would catapault my work from mere adequacy to the sheer brilliance necessary to ace the course. I simply didn’t have enough extra juice in me to process the ‘extra mile’ in anything else.

Marcia…Marcia…Marcia. I don’t remember the last time someone managed to get this deep underneath my skin.

————————————————————————————————-

I was walking by the roadside on Campus one day when a dark red Mercedes convertible pulled up. Strangely, I wasn’t surprised to recognise the driver – Jason!

“Hop in.” he said, leaning over to open the passenger door. Next thing I knew, we were in front of RS Hostel.

“Go see your girl man,” Jason said, switching off the engine and leaning over to open the door for me, but making no move to dismount.

I was confused. “Ah, Jason paa! No be you see am first? Go pɛɛ am ɛ!” I was slightly annoyed that he would test me like this. He hadn’t been the one to live through the past few days as I butted my head against the issue from every conceivable angle. And now here he was, playing with my emotions!

His response shocked me. He laughed!

“Nana, remember how I used to tell you that you always overthought everything too much? You’re doing the same thing again.” He got out of the car, prompting me to do the same as he strolled into the store, emerging just a split second later with that Sandra® ice-cream lollipop in his mouth. “Awesome!” he slurped as I stood leaning against the car, arms-crossed and slightly more pissed at his nonchalance.

“Hey chill, chill!” he said, raising his hands in mock self-defence when he noticed my lack of amusement at his attitude. “I really came to help you man. What I’m saying is that she’s beautiful & nice, you’re a pretty decent guy – things should be easy, no?”

Before I could protest again his hand shot up, silencing me with his next words.

“And besides, she’s alive, you’re alive, and I’m not.”

All the anger sapped out of me as I realised the truth of what he was saying. I was seeing my dead friend and I wasn’t freaked out by it…yet. All I was interested in was Marcia. As if he’d read my thoughts, he nodded.

“Yeah, see? You like her for you, not me. I never thought a woman would ever come between us like this.” At this he threw his head back and laughed. “I was prepared to be the ‘bad influence’ that your girlfriend/wife would jealously try to undermine someday. Little did I know that it would happen like this – you get my heart and then promptly go after my girl!”

At that, I had to support myself with the car – I felt so bad!

“Hey hey! I’m kidding o! See your face!” Jason quickly said, rushing over to help me up. “I’m sorry for that expensive joke – apparently some bad habits stay with you, even in the Afterlife. Forgive me wae.”

I looked up at him, shaking my head. Some things never changed. “Idiot!” I muttered good-naturedly. This was our Jason alright. The coolest dumbass I knew who would even pull legs when dead. “So what do you want from me today? Shouldn’t you be messing around with some angel’s harp or something?”

“Haha. Very funny. Look, I don’t have much time so let me tell you what’s up. This here -” he began, tapping my chest. “ – is my last gift to you. Don’t waste it on silly things. Don’t let it be broken too many times. Don’t hide it away to protect it or it will die. Don’t forget to fill it with everything good, everything that makes you smile, and every dream you want to achieve. Oh, and don’t forget Love – without it, this heart won’t make it. Feel free to start with Marcia.”

I was at a loss of words. But I still managed to say, “Man! That was just…unbelievably cheesy!” We both burst into laughter.

“But you know me. So cheesy even mice are attracted to me!”

I shook my head. Silly boy. I couldn’t believe how that heavy burden had just been lifted. It was me, & not the Heart that made me like Marcia! I heaved a deep sigh of relief as I turned round to notice Jason already in the car. I tried to open the door but it was locked from inside.

“Massa, gbele the door give me.”

“Sorry bro, no can do,” Jason said, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotta go now, and so do you.”

I began to panic. I couldn’t be losing him all over again! “Herh, stop joking and open the door!” I’d have jumped in if it weren’t for the fact that he’d already put up the convertible roof without me noticing previously.

“I know you initially were very sad you couldn’t say goodbye and that’s one of the reasons I’m here today. Isn’t this farewell better than the last one?”

I felt something wet against my cheeks as I kept trying to pull the door open but I ignored it. I was losing my best friend all over again! “But why won’t you let me stay with you even a little bit longer now?!” I begged in frustration.

“Because…” I heard his voice strangely closer now as I lost my grip on the door handle and in slow motion fell down towards the gravel of the parking lot. “…you’re waking up!”

My eyes popped open immediately after that and I found myself sprawled on the carpet, having tumbled out of bed just then. I folded my knees up as I sat on the floor, as the tears kept silently falling…

Related posts:

1. From The Heart : Part I Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! That loud noise was the first thing I...
2. From The Heart: Part II A week after the burial service I was back in...
3. From The Heart: Part III Sorry it’s taken such a long while to bring you...

“Courage sometimes skips a generation, thank you for bringing it back to our family.” I had to watch a dozen movies to chance upon one with a line this profound, backed by a storyline that renders me sober.

You know me, and how much I’m not for outings, especially on public holidays and festivities like Easter, when all our brethren from lake and grass lands come and join us in Accra to go watch the sea. The thought of scalding heat and winding traffic makes me develop a whole new height of love for my chamber and hall. So at home last weekend, browsing through my laptop’s video folder, I chanced upon ‘The Help’, and boyyyy was I helped to something transformational.

I’m a movie connoisseur. In my lifetime, I’ve spent more time watching movies than it probably took the Chinese to build the Great wall. Seriously. After you’ve done anything as long as I’ve been watching movies, you get a knack for telling good ones by just seeing the first frame. I could make out a good movie if it came disguised in toothbrush-length extended eye lashes and fake cologne, driving a ‘Lapaz Toyota’. On Easter Monday, I found one; ‘The Help’.

It’s not your typical gbush gbush cha(action-packed) movie with a blowman possessing 9 lives, steamy sex scenes and a killer who knows the perfect time to die; ‘The End’, no it’s not. The Help is set in Jackson, Mississippi at a time when the fight against racial discrimination was climaxing, in the 1960s. But the beauty of the movie isn’t so much about the gripping plot as it is about the quality of acting. Acting so rich, it transcends a job, a profession and reaches the height of a, a ministry.

I picked  half a dozen quality values from ‘The help’, like the essence of true friendships, the danger in getting caught up with the wrong priorities, the ‘moboness’ of developing our own codes of conduct and interpreting the Bible in such a way that we just couldn’t be wrong. I learnt that people are people, irrespective of race, gender or tribe, and writing someone off prejudgmentally is a wrong with no equal. But most of all, I watched the beauty of courage, the rarity of it, and the value it ultimately adds to lives, lives we’ll never even know of. I don’t think I have enough of it, but maybe I can infect you? And you, another? And we’ll start a conspiracy, the conspiracy of the courageous!

I think we have limited courage to war fights and potentially bloody risks. But in its truest form, it takes courage to walk right, to think straight, to be the best we can be. To believe in our passions and not fall for the lie that it’s not good enough. It takes courage to rise beyond our limiting expectations and try to right a wrong. In many arguments, the man accuses the woman of building castles out of mole hills, but I think it takes courage to see a mountain as a mole hill. It takes courage to preserve virginity and not find it archaic, it takes courage. It takes courage to say sorry and do just about any noble thing. I think if we have enough of it, we’ll experience limitless possibilities as a reality.

Imagine if you’re courageous enough to be the best you can be, huh? If you set out, to be the best you could be, triumphed over all your challenges and made mince meat of anything that stood in your way, what would you end up becoming? And if you did become that, will someone else’s life be bettered in any way? Is it worth it then? Is a bettered life worth your courage? How about a dozen lives, or a thousand? Because when you’re starting out, you really have no idea just how many lives you’ll be touching along the way. Because if yes, then maybe this conspiracy is worth a shot. It is a conspiracy because of it’s rarity. I stand to be corrected, but there are probably fewer truly courageous people than there are three-eyed albinos.

So it is a conspiracy, this thingy. And along the line, we’ll lose sight and succumb to the discouraging pressures of a bad day, but just so long as we regain sight and rejoin this conspiracy, we’re going to reach that point some day, when our courage will change a life, touch another and give hope to countless more. Know that there’s someone else like you, somewhere,  also trying hard to be courageous in their endeavor, you’ll never be alone.

So in our respective disciplines of baking, banking, fashion designing, auditing and lecturing, a conscious decision to be bold is really all that’s between us and what God wants for us. I say we give this conspiracy thingy a shot, what say ye?

If you make the golden time to watch ‘The Help’ –the end product of courageous actors- you’ll find lots of superb one-liners. The one I love most is what the starring maid Aibileen kept telling Miss Elizabeth’s toddler; “You is kkiiiinnd, you is smmaaarrt, you is important.” I say that to you today. You is important. Give courage a shot, let’s see how far we go with it.

PS: Share the link to this post on your facebook wall/status or e-mail. Imagine how many of your friends’ll benefit from it!

No related posts.

Sorry it’s taken such a long while to bring you the next part of this story – work & all, you know? But I promise you – It’s been worth the wait…

Marcia. Even her name haunted me the whole next week long. So much so that I even forgot to freak out about what had happened on the court the week before – and in retrospect, maybe I should have then…but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I was mostly preoccupied that week with trying to find her again. By the end of the second day, it’d dawned on me that I was on my own in this one – sweet Fate who brought her to me had washed Her hands off the matter and I had to do all the work this time to make sure there was a repeat scene of that awesomeness after the game.

If you knew me in person, you’d know that I rarely have my business ‘out there’ in the public domain, it just isn’t my style (besides, if it blasts, wouldn’t it be better to have contained it from Day One to reduce the ‘fallout’?!). So there was no way I’d go about asking around if anyone knew some Marcia Owusu Adjei.

I decided to systematically comb through all the Hostels I knew of, using any excuse I could think of to go a-visiting some of my oldest acquaintances in order to make my subtle enquiries. I was kinda hoping I would just walk into a room sometime and bam! There she would be – sitting by the window or watching some series, just being her unique awesome self! Fine, fine, that was a bit unrealistic, but you didn’t feel what I felt when I saw her for the first time!

Sure, I got a few stares after showing up unannounced at some of the rooms –people who I hadn’t seen or even spoken to in months – but the feeling would not be denied.

What was denied me was finding out where she’d gone.

“Ah Charles, I heard there was some girl bi here in your Hostel. My boy bi said he’d be at her place so I should holla at him there –‘Marcia’ or something…?”

“Hi Rita. How’re you doing? I just remembered you were here and I needed some help. Someone left some books of mine with some girl here but he didn’t give me her room number – and I can’t seem to get through to him. He said her name was Marcia…Owusu ‘something’ I think.”

“Yo Gasty! I see you kyɛɛ o! Chaa, you for come make I shake you for the court top this week o! I dey beg, my mommie say make I claim some stew she take send some my couson bi but I no get her number. Her name be Marcia. E say she dey this your place o…”

Yeah. I was kinda desperate after the first few days.

By the fourth day, I was tapped out. I just came back from the Studio at about 6:30pm – pretty early for me then– and I just flopped down on my bed, trying not to think about her as the A/C struggled to start chilling my flat nicely, a welcome relief after the warm humidity outside.

My mind at last was drawn back to what I’d been almost unconsciously trying to avoid thinking about – Jason’s…my heart. Now that I thought of it, it suddenly dawned on me:  maybe the major reason why I’d  immersed myself in my search for this elusive girl was because I didn’t want to contemplate ‘the Case of the Heart’.

I hadn’t had any other issues with the thumping again, not even during training the day before when the Coach asked me to repeat the manoeuvre I’d executed just before the final game. I expected my heart to go crazy again, even just at the thought of performing that move again, but curiously it didn’t. And what shocked me even more was the ease with which I did it again: Run. Bounce. Jump. Mid-air flip. Dunk! For the purposes of the game, the Coach then had me try to teach the other Forwards how to turn from the forward momentum of a dash into a leap towards the rim. Jean was still eyeing me suspiciously as I tried to take them through the motions, but I ignored the little rat.

Just then, my phone started playing the opening strains of Neon’s Animal – incoming call. I glanced over at it and saw it was from Lori, a girl in Jason’s class. He tried hooking us up at a Medical School party a few months before but she seemed a bit stuck-up to me so we didn’t quite ‘click’ – maybe something to do with that High School she went to. I considered not picking up since she hadn’t even bothered responding to any of my Facebook messages with anything except for an errant ‘lol’ or ‘sup?’ But I did.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Nana how are you?” Like you care.

“I’m good o, how are you? Nice surprise hearing from you.” Have you finished snubbing all your other friends and are now ready for a new batch to piss off?

“I’m ayt too. I meant to call you all this while but I’ve been busy – school and all you know.” Yeah. Right. Because I’m a coconut peeler and have soo much time on my hands.

Jason had explained it to me one day when I’d given him some grief about blowing off one of his mom’s dinners. “It’s simple – ‘Medical School’ is the best excuse to get out of something, second only to cancer! If I have the chance to use it, I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” he’d said matter-of-fact-ly.

“No problem Lori, I understand.” Is this going to take much longer??!

“Well, I was calling you because of some books Jason left in my room a while back – a few textbooks and some other books he used to read at times. I was going through them and I saw your name in one of them. A golden hardcover book – has a lock on it.”

I instantly sat up on my bed. That silly boy! I have no idea why he took my journal all the way to some girl’s flat! Or maybe it just got mixed up in his books, there was no way to tell now.

“Umm, thanks Lori. Where are you? I’ll come and pick it up in…” I looked at my watch: 6:50pm. “..like, now?”

“I’m at The Rising Sun Hostel, just behind the Fumesua Hospital. I thought you’d be tired after lectures by now. Well then, could you hurry up a bit? I’m about to go out with friends.”

I stifled a Yeah, right! (Yes, I did not like Lori Akua Danquah as a person – no matter what happens, or not, you don’t blow off people like that!)

“Sure,” I struggled to maintain a veil of tolerance in my voice. “I’ll be there in just 15 minutes, maximum. Room Number?”

“15B. Oh, and since you’re coming up could you please buy some Blue Skies fruit juice for my roommate and I – Pineapple, no ginger? Thank you Nana, you’re amazing! ”

She then cut the line before I could say anything. Maybe it was for the best because I’d finally decided to let her have the rough end of my tongue at her words, patience and consequences be damned!

I stared at my iPhone 4s, briefly debating whether to call her back and offload everything that had backed up in my throat or to just let things slide. I settled on a compromise – 10 minutes of a cold shower and a change of clothes: she and her posse could wait for me or just bounce in frustration for all I cared!

———————————————————————————————————-

20 minutes later saw me in casual wear now – faded jeans & a long-sleeved grey v-neck T-shirt – at the parking lot of RS Hostel (I did some research seconds before leaving my apartment to get my directions right – apparently only ‘newbies’ sounded out the full name of the hostel…go figure…University…!)

As I stepped out of the car, I briefly considered ‘forgetting’ her order. Till something strange happened as I stepped into the convenience store on the ground floor – I knew the store!

The feeling that I’d been there before was so strong it shocked me. I hid it from the shop clerk who’d been staring at me quizzically ever since I spent close to 30 full seconds with my foot halfway over the threshold of the store in the doorway.

I walked over to the see-through fridge and picked out the drinks before heading to the counter. I counted out the notes to the shop clerk, trying to smile reassuringly – failing miserably I think, based on the dry look she gave me in response. Then I did a strange thing – I turned away from the counter to a freezer just behind me to snag 2 sticks of Sandra® ice-cream out of the blue, which I didn’t feel any particular craving for – and I sure as hell wasn’t buying it for that girl upstairs! I couldn’t place them back in the freezer because I’m sure the clerk would give me a dirty look this time – she didn’t look like one of the nicer ones.

I paid for those too and left the shop, taking the stairs upwards to flat 15B. I pressed the doorbell (yes, doorbell!)

After close to a minute standing in the hallway, I heard footsteps from inside followed by the sound of the chain lock being disengaged from inside. The door swung open. And there was…Lori. I held in the impish smile threatening to erupt across my face at the barely-concealed look of displeasure  – at my lateness, I guessed.

“Hi there!” I beamed a positively infuriating (I hoped) smile at her. “Here are your drinks,” I said, handing her the larger package.

She tried to smile at that but it didn’t reach her eyes – so I knew it was fake. It didn’t bother me though because I expected it from her type of girl.

“Come in” she finally said, stepping aside so I could walk past her. I stepped past and sank into the first beanbag I saw in their tastefully-furnished sitting room. Its promise of comfort was genuine and I almost immediately felt myself relaxing as the pent-up weariness of my long day at the Studio came rushing back.

“I’ll be just a second.” Lori breezed back at me as she walked past me through a door I supposed led to her room. I heard other female voices from inside – the other girls getting all dressed up so they could get noticed by guys whom they would then ignore, I guessed.

———————————————————————————————–

I closed my eyes for just a second, it seemed, till I opened them again to find myself in dim lighting! I shot out of the chair, colliding almost instantly with a hardwood coffee table that attacked my shins viciously. Scrabbling for purchase, I went down a second later, luckily into a soft couch. I was now breathing heavily and my heart was beating strongly, though this time with adrenaline and not any unusual rhythm as during those times. I finally managed to grab the light switch on one of the table lamps and throw it on to find myself (thankfully) alone in the sitting room.

I righted myself in the couch to catch my breath and for the first time noticed a pile of books on the centre table with a note on top, weighed down by a glass paperweight.

I opened the note and the first thing I noticed was that there were at least 3 different colours and handwritings making up more than one message.

It first read:

Hi Nana! You looked so tired and peaceful sleeping there that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up so we decided to let you continue sleeping. Unfortunately, I’m going to be back kinda late so I had to take the only set of keys, but I left the door open. My roommate Achiaa will be in by 8:00pm (I’ve called her – she’ll be closed from Choir practice by 7:45!) These are the books I talked about. L8a!

- Lori!

Then:

Hello Nana! I just wanted to add that I think you’re cute!

- Jenny

And finally:

I think you’re cute too! Call me: Lori has my number. :*

- Tricia!

I didn’t know what to respond to first – the shock at being left to effectively ‘room-sit’ for Lori or her (a Biblical term came to mind) brazen friends’ suggestions! I found myself wishing I’d stayed awake a minute longer to see them in person – they’d probably be the kind who would instinctively look right through me on a normal day. Different story when you’re asleep, obviously!

I settled back into the couch with a sigh. Lori…Lori…Lori…

I looked at my watch: 8:00pm.

And that’s when my heart started the crazy thumping: Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump!

The anticlimactic part was when my heart kept up this crazy war-dance for the next 15 minutes. At 8:15pm, I decided to leave with the books because I was getting more apprehensive as the seconds ticked by, and no roommate showed up. The wild beating didn’t help matters either but I stubbornly decided to ignore it like I had on the court before my wild dash the week before. I even decided to enjoy the ice cream lollipop before I left.

Just as I picked up the first stick, Lori’s roommate, Achiaa, opened the door and entered the room, smiling. Marcia Achiaa Owusu Adjei.

“Wow!” The word escaped my lips before I could stop myself. She looked tired and, I noticed with surprise, drenched to the skin! Apparently, it had been raining outside but I hadn’t noticed it because of the drawn shades and the drowning out of sound by the airconditioners in the apartment.  I idly enjoyed a flash of delight as I crossed my fingers praying for Lori’s ‘Girls’ Night Out’ to be ruined by the rain!

“Nana Benyin, right?” she asked, walking around the couch towards the other door to her room – I supposed. “I’ll be just a minute, let me get out of these wet clothes.”

Good thing she had it all figured out and didn’t wait for my consent because for the life of me, I’m sure I couldn’t have said a single word then! I just nodded dumbly, shock fighting with happiness across my facial features.

I pumped my fist into the air, screaming a silent Yeah! as I jumped off the couch when she shut her door.

She was back in 20 minutes too long but the moment I saw her again, I forgave her. She was now in a thin-strapped loose green floral dress that paid homage to every curve that was God-blessed on her body, a little at a time, depending on whether she walked, turned, or stood still. The good ol’ Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! was going full-steam now. By now I’d decided to ignore the sensation and just go with the flow – nothing bad had happened whenever it went crazy so far, had it?

She plopped down into the beanbag I’d been on initially, exhaling a long sigh as she did so.

“I’ve had a very long day as you can tell, I’m sure. Lectures from 6:00am till 4:30pm, followed by University Choir practice from 5:00 till 7:45.” She ended this all with a dazzling smile, expecting me to say something in addition, I’m sure.  Just then her eyes spotted the note on top of the books and she snatched it up before I could safely grab it out of her reach.

“Ooooh! Hot cake huh?” she teased, after she finished reading it.

“Oh chale! Hmmm, so they say.” I managed to recover fast enough to say. Damn those girls!

“Wow, you brought Sandra ®! Just like Jason used to!” At the mention of his name her enthusiasm dimmed somewhat.

“I’m sorry about him. I hope you’re okay – well, as okay as anyone who just lost their best friend could be anyway.”

“I’m fine now – better, anyway.”  I smiled wistfully. This was the first time anyone had actually asked me how I was, in light of Jason’s passing.

“I’m sure he’s Up There trying to ‘ron’ some angel bi koraa!” I quipped, getting a small smile for my efforts.

Our discussion inevitably drifted towards Jason.

“And he was so quiet too!”, was what made me mentally screech!

“Oh really?” I asked, a disbelieving look on my face. A suspicion was slowly building up in my mind. I knew Jason and you could describe him in many words – none of which was ‘quiet’…In fact, the only time he was quiet was…

“Yeah. He used to come over to our study group meetings sometimes. Sometimes he would stay after our study group session just reading from your book. What’s in it by the way? ”

“In time, I’ll show you,” I replied, more intent on finding more about her Jason. “Tell me more about Jason.”

“Why would you want to talk about him now? I can tell it still makes you deeply sad to talk about him.”

“Well, though he was my best friend – brother even – I believe there was some part of him I never knew. Talking to those people who knew that side of him somehow makes dealing with him gone easier” I answered, only half-lying.

“Well, he was a really nice guy. So different from Rudolph, the other guy in our study group. He never laughed at those silly politically incorrect & racist jokes Rudolph used to make. I remember one time…” Her voice trailed off as I froze, thumbing through the journal I’d just unlocked.

I’d been idly thumbing through my notebook of poetry and random writings till that point when I came upon an entry and a sheet of paper wedged in between the leaves of the book. I read it, hardly hearing a word Marcia spoke from then on. The Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! sound  drowned out everything else as it filled my ears this time, louder than before. If not for my dark skin, I am sure that my face would have gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong Nana?” Marcia asked, getting up from the beanbag and moving towards me. She stretched out her hand as if to take the sheet from my hands to read what had stunned me so.

This time, I snatched it out of reach and bounded to my feet in one fluid motion.

“I’ve got to go now Marcia.” I said as I grabbed the other books on the table. I had to get out of there! I needed a place to clear my head STAT!

“Just remembered something I need to get for the Coach before tomorrow’s training,” I lied unconvincingly as I backed up to the door.

All the while, Marcia stood there stunned as I hurriedly beat a hasty retreat.

“I’ll come see you some other time, bye!”

2 minutes later I was in my car, drenched by the heavy rain as I’d dashed through the open parking lot to my Dodge Charger, but the discomfort was the last thing on my mind. I unfurled the paper I’d crumpled in my hand to re-read it once more, though I could have recited it from memory – after all, I wrote it.

Love of my Love draw near
Make my dreams all true
For as this heart beats for me
I would that it beat for you too

Signed- Jason

….For Marcia

—————————————————————————————————————

….to be Concluded….

- Tele…

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1. From The Heart : Part I Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! That loud noise was the first thing I...
2. From The Heart: Part II A week after the burial service I was back in...

Today, he meets her, his mistress. Last week;

So on the 13^th of May 2001, I left on a Delta flight, away from the land I thought would be home for me and Afua, away from the most notorious days of my life, bound to Ghana, with Sarah Swaniker lurking somewhere in the future, with business still unfinished with Afua, with a truckload of complications waiting to unfold.

*         *         *

It was close to midnight when dad barged into my room with a ripped-open envelope in hand. He noticed I was pensive, threw the envelope at me and said as he turned to leave.

“I hope you aren’t thinking of ways to sell my house, with me in it.”

I sighed, it had been like that since our return home to Abelenkpe, Accra Ghana, from Atlanta Georgia, America.

Mum had been the consoling one, telling me to pray more and think carefully about how I wanted my life to turn out. Think about how relevant my foolhardy outlook to life would be when I get too old to look good in a tattoo.

I noticed the blue University of Ghana logo behind the envelope dad had dropped. I reluctantly opened it to see an admission letter to read psychology, sociology and English. Officially, the University closed admissions in February, so for dad to have by-passed all that bureaucracy five months after, he must have pulled countless strings. I should have been amazed, grateful, thrilled or a million other positive emotions, but instead, I was blank.

I still had Afua in mind, she’d never left. You know how the pain is sharper when the Brufen fades off? Well my heart was louder now that common sense had moved back in. I sent her emails she didn’t reply, made calls she didn’t pick and sent texts she didn’t acknowledge. Then I grew tired and stopped. Through all this, Nana was there.

Nana was my classmate in PreSec, but was now a year ahead because I chose love over education the year before. We weren’t really friends back in school; our priorities were very different.  But when I returned, I didn’t feel like hooking up with the crew I used to roll with, I wanted to be by myself. All those guys couldn’t identify with what I’d been through, they had no idea what it meant to rise to the thuggish heights I rose to and fall to the sober depths I was now at. Their talks would be about fast cars, cheap below-my-hay-day’s-standard drugs, clubs and girls hot by myopic standards.

I had seen all that, more than that in fact, and I knew that there was no really true friendship in a crew where hardly anyone was sober or sane even at daytime. So when I met Nana at the washing bay and he told me about his Economics course and small micro-finance company he wanted to set up, I thought, ‘well maybe this’ the kind of company I could use’. In time, I filled him in on a lot. He never judged or criticized. His personal philosophy had always been “If there’re more pages of the book left, turn a fresh leaf and start writing”

So that’s the attitude I tried to infuse into my first day on Legon campus, but frankly it didn’t work. My i-pod was constantly plugged in my ears and I was always listening to some hip hop tune or the other. I’d drive around in the KIA Rio mum made my dad let me use, feeling cool and marking time. You know that twi saying, which when literally translated means “Even if a mad man is cured of his lunacy, the small he will use to frighten little children dier, it’ll be there.” Yup, so I still had a dose of my American shwag to pull in several babes and stir a small buzz.

I wasn’t seeing Nana often because of his coursework’s demands. Besides, the whole idea wasn’t to get me a babysitter. In all of this, I lost track of why I was really in school, and by the end of first year, I was in terrible academic shape. I didn’t travel, or do anything productive over the long vac. I tried to stay out of skirts and trouble, but only succeeded with the latter until the former got me into it. Everything changed on week nine of second year first semester; that’s when I met her. Sarah Swaniker.

*         *         *

If you’ve read up till this point, I needn’t expatiate on how drabby, bleak and relatively uneventful the last year and half of my life had been. I was living a routine, trying to get used to a life which was lifetimes less exciting than the one I’d gotten used to back in the states. I felt like a lightening trapped in an Everready AA sized battery. I still felt that way as I reluctantly walked into that Psycho group study meeting at the verandah of the Central cafeteria.

I hadn’t wanted to go and it took Nana nine weeks of unending bugging to get me to show up. There were four guys and two girls in the group, and one of the girls was roommates with Nana’s very good friend. Nana thought the world of her; “Sarah this, Sarah that, always studying Sarah, so serious Sarah, She also reads Psycho…” Then one day I stopped him mid-sentence and acquiesced

“Alright Nana, you win. I go go”

“There’s one tonight at CC”

“Ah, are you on my dad’s payroll or something?

“Sake of?”

“The way you make aggre about me going for this study group, it’s almost as if my dad’s bought you on it.”

“Look mehn, you not get case. Go tonight, and if you don’t find it useful, I wont bug you again.”
“Deal”

When I finally showed up, the meeting was about to close. The girl leading the discussion was exactly how I had imagined; petite, spectacle-wearing, boring attire, frayed, breaking hair and pimple faced. No wonder she studied so much. The quiet girl beside her was sharply stunning. She was in a white tank top and a blue jeans trouser, simple in words but fantastic on her. I am not sure if it was the contrast from the other girl, I was nevertheless captivated.

I got a mixed reception after I introduced myself and weakly explained my lateness. The tank top beauty totally ignored me. As they continued the discussion, I realized how little I knew of all they were talking about. I wondered countless times if I was actually in the same year group as them. The little focus I could muster was seized by the tank top beauty, the quieter, homely, attractive one. When the torture ended and good byes were exchanged, I caught up with the boring-looking petite group leader.

“Ummn, Sarah? I hear you pulled major strings to get me in. Thank you.”

She stared at me blankly “Ummn, you’ve got us mixed up, I’m Frema”

“So Sarah’s-“

“Driving off”

Oo, Sarah was the other one, the tank top beauty, and she was pulling up from where she had parked. She drove a yellow peugeout 206 model. I failed to catch her attention; her windows were rolled up and she was laughing to something one of the study group guys she was giving a ride was telling her.

I looked on as the red of her brake lights turned into tiny laser-like dots. But not all of me remained, a bit of me got into that yellow Peugeot, to her, and I let it go. It was a Tuesday, and the next meeting was all the way till Friday. As hours turned to days, I couldn’t help looking forward to Friday. I knew Sarah’s kind. I couldn’t be the ignorant, indifferent guy I was on Tuesday, I had to resurrect the )dadee (what Presec alumni are called) prowess and cram a whole handout that was just a shelf fixture before.

On Friday, I just so happened to show up first. Frema came next, and the shock in her face was tangible. Then Joe, one of the two she gave a ride on the Tuesday. By six pm –when we started- Sarah was the only one missing. No one knew for sure if she was going to show up. The uncertainty kept me distracted throughout the meeting. I was unable to translate all my cramming into sensible contributions, which made me angry at myself. I felt like a tool. Who was this Sarah girl anyway?  The fact that really, I had no reason to be angry aggravated situations, and by the end of the two hour session, I was in the foulest mood.

That weekend felt unduly long, and I brought her up with Nana, but only casually. She didn’t show up the following Tuesday, and I was getting impatient. I hate it when things don’t go by my plans. It really wasn’t a big deal but the more it delayed, the more it swelled. I don’t know how to park emotions and walk away, I had to get to the bottom of things. It was likely that after getting under her skirt by week two (which was long by my standards), I wouldn’t want to see her again. But until then, I had to get a hold of things. I felt like a yo-yo; being tossed unwillingly and unknowingly by the tosser.

So on Friday, thirty minutes to group study time, I drove to Jubilee hall. Back then, the porters weren’t as wild as they are now. I strolled random blocks hoping I’ll run into her and make it clear how accidental our meeting was. Not to be. But I saw Ananse exiting a girl’s room. Ananse was one of those guys who would have graduated with first a first class if university lectures were held in female rooms and were about the female anatomy. He only had to pause a second to figure out the girl I was looking for, her vital stats, car driven and room number. A software of his mind is all this world would have needed to serve as a ‘Yellow pages of fine girls’

“Boys make wild o” he teased

“O nothing. I jus for take my book from her.”

He didn’t buy it.

“Charley, me I go advise you to close your mind o. E be like that girl’s in a chastity pioto.”

“Chastity what?”

“Pioto pioto. The female version of boxer shorts. Only sey I sure sey her own be dade3, metal, with a padlock her father has the only key to”

I coughed and laughed simultaneously.

“Sake of?”

“None of the top guy’s have gotten in o” he winked, as if transmitting an unspeakable message via some biological Bluetooth.

“O charley, my mind’s not there kraa.”

“Yoo, walleva. Jus saying. Make you divert your energy into vim prospects”

“Hear ya Ananse” I said, to end the conversation before any mortal witnessed the spectacle of Ananse advising me on girl-matters.

I knocked on N21, and smiled at my incorrigible heart, beating like it was a recording studio device.

A busty girl in scanty clothing opened. She was chewing on a gum.

“Hi” She said, sizing me

“Hey, is Sarah in?”

“Swaniks?”

“Ummn…Swaniker, Swaniks…yeah I guess”

She smiled, I should have known she was up to something when she too willingly obliged

“Surrree. Come in.”

My entry was at the worst possible time. Sarah had just come out of the bathroom and was in a hairnet and a big towel that covered her chest to her upper thighs. My unpreparedness for the sight, the serenity of her body with its synchronized fair complexion, the just-after-bathing freshness of her smooth face…stupefied me.

If you could have taken a picture of my face and ran a check with all the animals in the world it would have registered a 95% match with an ass’.

So in the distance I heard her scream, and when I came to, I clumsily bolted to the verandah. Her roommates were in stitches, and she was unamused, but only for moments. It seemed like pay back, like I had offered busty roomy a splendid chance to get Sarah back for some past misdeed.

PS: To be continued (It’s not fun when it comes in one long tale. Or?)

PSS: Share the link to this post on your facebook wall/status or e-mail. Imagine how many of your friends’ll enjoy it!

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Sorry it’s taken so long to bring you this. I feel like i don’t even have the moral right to…to…to talk plenty, lol. So I’m just going to dig in. I hope you find it was worth your wait. But this’ where we left off last;

When I arrived in Newark, I sought her out and verbally assaulted her to felony-magnitude. It took me two slow, long, hard months to win Afua back. In the process, I discovered that I was in love with her, because it dawned on me that there wasn’t any other girl I’ll have gone through all that trouble to get back. Edien nkwaa? When we surmounted that hurdle, I couldn’t fathom what could ever separate us. We were nineteen then, I was, and she was eighteen. Though unspoken, we had it all figured out; I’d marry her in the Pentecost church I met her in, and we’d live happily ever after.

*         *         *

A bit over three months after we made up, I moved in with Afua. O yeah we did! By Ghanaian standards, it would have been unthinkable, but we were flying high in the land of limitless possibilities. Ask me anything right now, in any language, from any era, and still, answering you’ll be easier than explaining how moving in with her felt like. Imagine the happiest day of your life, what if you could relive it every day! (Ps: If it’ll get boring over time, then you probably haven’t really been that happy :-p)

It was some time in July, and I had gained admission to Legon, but who thought of schooling in Ghana when he woke up every morning to heaven-wrapped-in-flesh? My future was in the US, with Afua. Whether or not I’d continue with my education, how I’d get a job and stay independent of my father (who was outraged), was irrelevant at the time. Relevance was breathing Afua’s air, being in her space, loving her, knowing her.

It’s not really as scandalous as you’re thinking. Thing is, she was in her second semester at the University of Delaware and was sharing an apartment off campus with an Asian-American girl called Kim Sung. Campus was two hour’s drive from Newark, so it wasn’t so in-the-face of family and those-to-whom-it-may’ve-concerned. Long gone were the days of being Aunti Kakra’s little boy, I was a man now, and all I needed was some facial hair to consummate the look.

Afua had amazing energy, she partied hard, worked hard and studied hard. Around the time, she was making enough cash from two well-paying part time jobs. I didn’t have one then, but Afua spoilt me. We snuggled in bed on Sunday mornings and never once contemplated church. She put her all in us, and if time froze at the time, I’ll have had a content smile on. Time didn’t freeze though, it was our relationship that grew cold feet and hit the ice a year later.

What a shock right? I know, but she’d changed, well I had too. We had become strangers to our childhood selves.  I was a proud Ashanti man, and she was a self-sufficient, independent Westernized Ghanaian woman. That integral difference caused countless rifts between us, and Afua would never succumb or bite dust. She was like no girl I’d seen or been with. Our chemistry was heated, our arguments were heated, our make-ups were hot and everything was on turbo speed.

But I had the strong urge to make something of myself, and I eventually  found the way to. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you how, that information can cost me a future presidency. What I can say is that I was able to afford my own apartment, get a slick Buick, and become fully independent  five months later. So much had changed by that time. I had a pierced left ear and a pride that wouldn’t let me be.

I remembered Afua’s birthday in October, but didn’t  call.  I felt the way to preserve my dignity and man-up my masculinity was to act cold and indifferent, to cut back on the calls. I still loved her though, and the deeper I fell, the more vulnerable I felt, and the greater the need to be defensive.

She would have fits and insult me, and then I’d use her actions as ammunition to be colder. It’s a screwed-up mentality, I know now, but I was a screwed-up kid.

I had this ‘project’ all the way in Atlanta Georgia, so I moved there for some months. Afua knew I was doing well, financially, at least. I guess she expected me to reciprocate her generosity, but I didn’t. That Christmas I’d promised to pay for her plane ticket to come visit, to take her shopping and shower her with all the luxury I could now afford. She was excited and looked forward to it. At the last minute, after a flimsy argument, I called it off. I had no concrete reason, no good explanation, but just felt like what the heck.

She was disappointed, and lashed out at me, raining insults and utterly disrespecting my Ashanti manhood (no pun intended). In the heat of that argument she asked

“Are you sure this thing has any hope?”

“What thing?”
“Us”

“If a thing is what we’ve reduced to, then what’s the point in it?”

The line cut. It could have been Verizon, it could have been her battery, it could have been anything, but I took it to mean that she cut the call. Years would pass before she’ll tell me she thought I cut it too. But well, no one called back. That was that.

Three weeks later, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had gone to visit a friend who retailed white powder on the same day the Atlanta PD conducted a surprise drug raid. It took five months, almost all my cash and a chunk of my dad’s savings to prove my innocence. Each time he visited, there was more disappointment in his eyes than there was oxygen in the air. I won’t be surprised if several times during that phase, he had wished he used contraceptives the night he helped conceive me. That Wednesday when I was acquitted, dad had a ticket to Ghana waiting for me. It was nonnegotiable, and I’ll have been a fool to protest.

Jail had dissipated my ‘thugishness’ and turned my nigger-swagger into ‘lambish’ humility. I couldn’t look him in the eye. He reflexively spat several times when I was around, like the way pregnant women do, only this time I guess he was pregnant with disgust. It had to be mum, mum pushed him, else he would have left me to rot in jail. But I couldn’t blame or hate him, I was just grateful to be free. You’ll be surprised how much freedom excuses so many of the things you whine about. When you’re a jailbird, all of a sudden you have so much to be grateful for, things you took for granted before, like a love you’ve lost.

One good thing about moving to Atlanta was, it helped keep news about my arrest from spreading. Afua thought I had completely cut her off and gave up trying to patch us up three months after every effort to get to me proved futile. I didn’t call her when I came out, what was I going to say? “Hi I was locked up in a place where I couldn’t drop soap?” No, not to be.

So on the 13^th of May 2001, I left on a Delta flight, away from the land I thought would be home for me and Afua, away from the most notorious days of my life, bound to Ghana, with Sarah Swaniker lurking somewhere in the future, with business still unfinished with Afua, with a truckload of complications waiting to unfold.

PS: To be continued NEXT MON…(mean it)!

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1. The Perfect Mistress I was standing on the altar, with Nana behind me....

A week after the burial service I was back in school. I thought I was holding up pretty well given the circumstances. Since we’d gotten a 2-in-a-room flat just off campus together at the beginning of the year, I now had all the space to myself. Big deal. I’d just look over to Jason’s Station (that boy had a really cheesy system of naming things, I swear!) – the wide desk on at the foot of the bed upon which his all-in-one Mac sat -  and I’d half-expect to see him seated in his swivel chair, headset on, gripping his controller as he played one of several games he’d installed with such intensity.

Don’t get me wrong, Jason was always in the top 3 in his class. He was a natural who just needed to flip through a few books a week and he was ready for anything. Medical School was the breeze to him it never was for anyone else. I was the one who had to commit at least 5 hours a day to the thick Architecture manuals and projects in order to place within the top 10 at my Faculty! I’d come back to the room after sleeping at the Studio for over 2 days to find him either hard at it gaming, or splayed out on his bed, fast asleep!

I smiled ironically as I remembered the number of times I’d amuse myself as I crawled into bed exhausted, appeasing myself by thinking through a number of ways to mess up his sleep as he lay there – I never thought of killing him in a car crash.

I began to walk through my days then, smiling at every “Sorry he’s gone, Nana”, “We’ll really miss him”, and (my personal favourite) “E go be, eh!”

It became almost distracting, the way people who barely knew me would stop me to give their little piece of condolence. Oh, they all knew Jason – Dunk Champion for the past 2 years running, party boy extraordinaire, and a Medical Student to boot! He was the popular one of our duo and I’d always liked it so. The limelight was not too kind to me and I had little love for it in return. So it made sense somewhat that his fans would track me down to say their goodbyes to him, through me. And to hell with my grieving process.

I managed to wade through my dark time in a sort of faze for one more week, avoiding as many people as I could. Flat. Studio. Flat. Studio. Up until Jean came to drag me from the flat one evening to go training. I guess I forgot to mention that I was also on the University Basketball All-Stars Team. Deputy Captain, actually. I’d passed on training ever since I got back to Campus. I guess they’d let me be for as long as they could until they needed the team to be complete…well, as much as it could be, seeing as they just lost their star Forward…

I found myself wondering idly who the Coach had picked already to fill Jason’s spot until Jean interrupted my reverie once more.

“Nana! Are you there?” he asked, shaking my shoulder before snapping his fingers in front of my face. I hated it when he did that on the court when he called for the ball.

I gave him my best deadpan look, fully prepared to tell him to go climb a tree or chew a comb or something, and to my surprise I found myself saying, “Sure man, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I saw the look of surprise on his face at my answer and realised he’d fully expected me to give some excuse or the other. We were all brothers during a game, sure, but off-court everyone saw first to Number One. It also suddenly dawned on me that Jean, from the second string, would be the first in line for Jason’s spot now that it was vacant…and one of the two Forwards stood a more than fair chance of becoming either Team Captain, or Deputy! That was the only thing that kept me from taking back those unintended words.

“I’ll be there.”  He nodded in understanding. I wasn’t backing out.

I watched Jean’s retreating figure and shook my head, almost regretting that I’d have to show up at the court for practice. Nah, I told myself, gritting my teeth. I’m not getting run out of my own Team that easily.

——————————————————————————————————–

So that’s how come I found myself on the court during the major Hall Week Basketball Tournament. I must honestly admit: the 2 weeks of regular attendance at our training sessions did do me a lot of good. It however still took me by surprise whenever I caught myself actually smiling – I’d begun to forget how that felt like.

The weirdness began once more when Jean, Frankie, Kwabena and I got to the court a bit earlier than we needed to on the last day of the Tournament. Our final match was not yet up but we decided to oblige the MC when the hip-life duo set to perform before our match hadn’t yet arrived from their hotel, and the crowd gathered was getting a bit restless.

We decided to play a little game of ours we used to fool about with during training. We would engage in solo shots from anywhere behind the 3-pointer line, gradually stepping back if we made the shot, until we reached the centre of the court – the first one there had to make a run through the other players where they stood and try to dunk at the rim. Any style of play was permissible, as long as it made the shots. The only catch was that once that final run began, no other player was to even touch the ball until the central player making the run had dunked. If they managed to touch the ball, the twist was that you were out of the game! The problem usually lay in this – no matter who he was, no player on our team till date had ever managed to keep his teammates from touching the ball before he could dunk! So there were actually 2 ways of winning: you either managed to dunk or manoeuvred until you were the last man standing.

I left Jean to explain the rules to the crowd as I dropped my bag by the bench. He seemed to enjoy posturing in front of a crowd far more than anyone else on the team did anyway.

“…so those are the rules.” I heard him say. “And we have Kwabena in the yard this afternoon!” He continued with introductions as the crowd cheered in response to each player’s signature move. Kwabena had grabbed a basketball from the side-lines and was making it roll, first along his shoulders, and then over his clasped hands in front of him – the ladies loved him!

Then suddenly: Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! It started up again! I clutched my chest with my right hand as I clumsily stepped back, nearly bumping into a guy who’d come up too close behind me.

“Herh! Watch where you’re going man!” he angrily yelled. He then noticed my jersey and his expression changed.

“Hey you! You’re with the Team!”

I lifted my head up as I leaned against a pillar, trying to catch my breath to look at him, forgetting momentarily the unusual thumping in my chest.

“Oh really? You don’t say!” I sarcastically cut at him.

He barely seemed to notice the jibe as his look then became one of concern as he noticed my discomfort as I held my hand to my chest and supported myself against the pillar with my other hand.

“Are you alright man? You don’t look too good.”

I shook my head at Captain Obvious, choosing not to waste any more wit on him. I heard Jean’s voice over the speakers. “Yeah, yeah, next is my man Frankie!”

Frankie made a small display by the simple trick of spinning another basketball at the tip of his index finger for a short second before tossing it vertically into the air only to grab it in a split second with his splayed fingers! A somewhat lesser cheer went up for him at that, but for someone so naturally quiet, I guess it was to be expected.

Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! It continued, increasing in intensity as I realised my name was going to be called next. I left the pillar as it suddenly dawned on me that I wasn’t actually in pain! The feeling of the heart thumping incessantly just scared me into thinking that I was having a heart attack or something as sinister. Truth be told, I had begun to feel this rush of energy, similar to when you take a few rapid deep breaths of air when you’re at rest, only this time, it was much stronger! I looked at my palms with a sense of surprise as I felt the energy flowing all throughout my body, as if I had the strength of 10 men inside of me.

I heard Jean carry on. “Next up is our own Deputy Team Captain, Nana.” And that’s when I just exploded into action before I could think it through.

I spun around and blazed out of the crowd, only slowing for a fraction of a second to grab a basketball from someone at the sidelines. I then zoomed down the court towards the far rim, noticing idly that the crowd had gone almost silent – with shock, I hoped. It felt as if the whole world around me had slowed down.  Arriving at the 3-pointer line, I did something I’d never tried before – a manoeuvre I’d only talked about with Jason as we dreamed up near-impossible plays we’d love to see someone try out on court someday. I jumped into the air gripping the ball with both hands as if trying to personally deliver the ball into the hoop myself, but then curled in mid-air, executing a full body flip, righting myself just in time to dunk right through the hoop, hanging on for all of 3 seconds before dropping to the ground!

The crowd took a whole second to come to terms with the move I’d just completed before erupting into mad cheers! Their shock was only dwarfed by mine. I’d never made anything even remotely related to the play I’d just run! I turned round to see Jean slack-jawed, holding the microphone. Just then the hip-life performers walked unto the court, having just arrived when I began the run down the court. One of the blinged out young men took the mic from Jean as he walked past him up to me, extending his hand which I shook as he took off his shades.

“Man, that was wicked!” he exclaimed into the microphone, to which the crowd roared in assent.

My heart had still maintained its insane rhythm but had now dialled down a few notches or so.

“Oh that?” I goofily managed to respond as I found my tongue again when the crowd settled down a bit. Then the words came to me at last, seemingly effortlessly.

“That was in remembrance of my brother from another mother, Jason Okwabi. He left too soon but then again, without him, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” As I spoke, I felt a weight suddenly lift from my spirit. It wasn’t about feeling guilty and spending the whole day moping about. This was how I’d honour Jason’s memory – by living my own life to the fullest and being grateful for each day I got to do so!

The rest of the day went by in a dizzying flurry as we proceeded to wipe the floor with our main rivals from Legon. And I was on FIRE! I received the most passes, blocked the most shots and made the most baskets of the game! And all the while I had to comfort me the (now muted) thumping of my new heart, Jason’s last gift to me.

The match was finally won – 149:101. After the usual screaming and jumping around with joy after the buzzer sounded, we gathered below the rim after most of the crowd had moved on to the after-party, to share a word of prayer. The Coach was a Youth Pastor at his church also so it inevitably became part of our routine, and none of us complained: one couldn’t say no to any divine intervention on the road to success, could they?

It was after the prayer, when we started packing up, that the familiar Thump Thump! Thump Thump! Thump Thump! began again. This time, I wasn’t alarmed, only a bit surprised that it didn’t fill me up with that strange energy again. It only built up in intensity when I noticed a girl walking towards me.

I grew even more curious as she drew closer, a small smile on her face. It just felt right to realise that she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Looking at her, I was convinced that God had finally decided to balance the scales in favour of Africa after tilting them to the Latin Americas in the form of Salma Hayek and to the East in the form of Deepika Padukone (yes, I knew my fine women!).

All that was left was to find out what He’d decided to name her. She stopped just short of me, stretching out her hand to shake mine, her smile now a full-blown grin at my empty expression – she obviously was no stranger to the effect she had on guys.

“Hi, my name is Marcia Owusu Adjei. I liked your game today. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get your name..?”

The thumping in my chest had just reached a crescendo before it suddenly ceased just at that moment! I’d like to think that was why I unexpectedly heard myself saying as if in a daze, “Hello, I’m Jason Okwabi!”

Realising what I’d just said I hurriedly shook my head as if banishing the thought from mind as I corrected myself. “Sorry. I’m Nana Benyin, not Jason! I don’t know why I said that.”

She turned her head to look at me sideways quizzically in a fetching manner I knew I would come to love if only she let me.

“Nana Benyin, right?”

“Sure!” I quickly responded, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on how uneasy the exchange had made me. “But you can just call me Nana like everyone does.”

“Okay, Nana” she replied, smiling once again. “I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Sure.”

She turned to go, leaving me to watch her receding figure, feeling as if some part of me had somehow detached itself and left with her.

Too late, I realised that I hadn’t gotten a phone number, room number, or even a hostel on which’s lawn I could go and stand on to scream out her name! Classic dolu move…

But in reality, I was now more preoccupied with the day’s events and what my new heart had seemingly done. What the hell was going on?!

- Tele..

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Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! That loud noise was the first thing I remember, repeating itself over and over in my head. Gradually, I finally managed to open my bleary eyes a fraction at last.

It took a while for the blurry image in front of me to resolve itself into Mama Efua and Dad at the foot of my bed. All around was white: The Hospital. My mother had a look of concern she was trying bravely to keep under control but I heard her gasp with relief when I finally opened my eyes fully.

“Water,” I gasped. My throat was dry and felt scratchy.

She released my dad’s hand which she’d been clutching and came over to my side to pour me a glass of water from the pitcher on the locker beside my bed.

“Here you go Nana,” she said holding it up to my lips. Dad was smiling now. He knew his wife would do her own going-over to assess my condition for herself. Sometimes being married to a doctor was not easy but over the twenty-something odd years of marriage, they’d come to an agreement: when it came to health matters, he’d let her have her way – his turn would come whenever they needed a new room built!

“You should have seen your mother when they wheeled you out of surgery 2 days ago!” Dad started, shaking his head with mock longsuffering. “She was doing that her hummingbird thing again – hovering around checking your charts and cross-checking your medications and what not! Were it not that she had shares in this hospital I’m sure the Floor matron would have kicked her out pronto!”

I saw Mama Efua give him a look that would have withered watermelons! She opened her mouth to give him a scathing reply, I’m sure, but then seemed to change her mind. But I think I heard her mutter something beneath her breath that sounded like “As if I was the one checking with the staff every 10 minutes whether the surgery was over!” I don’t think he heard her…or he chose not to hear – wise man.

Then it all suddenly came crashing back! The rain, the slippery road, the girl who slipped and fell right into the middle of the road, stepping on the brakes, the car somersaulting –

“Jason! How is Jason?!” I exclaimed. The last I remembered was seeing him in the car one moment and then he just wasn’t there anymore as the car came to a rest after somersaulting end over end…and then blackness. “Where is he?” I asked again.

I dreaded the words that would come out of her mouth when I saw the pained look she shared with my dad before she turned to me again.

“Nana,” I closed my eyes tight, “I’m sorry but he didn’t make it”. My world imploded!

“You were both severely injured and the ambulance only got there in time because Jason was lucid enough to dial 911 when he was thrown out of the car.  He saved your life. Unfortunately he was in too bad a shape and …” She couldn’t go on anymore and was silently crying as Dad held her in his wide hug. I felt too stunned to say anything; so stunned. I remember feeling so cold as everything and everyone seemed to withdraw from my consciousness. Jason…the Only J. Gone…

It’s when everything seemed to go quiet that I realised that the strange thumping noise had increased in cadence: Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! What was it?!  I then noticed a dull pain in my chest for the first time. I guess with the way I was feeling all over, isolating this particular uneasiness would have been pretty difficult – at least, initially. Except that the odd ‘Thump-Thump!’ was coming from there.

“What is this?” I asked shakily as my hands hesitatingly went to my chest. Mama E. stepped away from Dad and I could visibly see her steeling herself.

“You were brought in with a 6-inch piece of steel in your chest. It had punctured your heart’s ventricles and you needed a replacement or else you’d be dead in 5-10 minutes after our machines lost the ability to keep up with the blood loss and trauma in general…” She half-turned to Dad who had moved over to lean against the window-sill, his arms crossed. He gave a half-nod before she turned back to me.

“When they heard about the accident Jason’s parents rushed over here. They were devastated but still asked about your condition. When they heard that you were still alive but still in danger, they…they shocked us all: they decided to donate his heart to you!”

For the second time in 30 minutes since I’d regained consciousness, my world had upended itself! The thumping now came even faster. Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! I had finally managed to clumsily open the hospital gown with my shaky fingers and found  myself staring at the dressing on my chest. Jason’s heart beat faster and faster. I didn’t even realise when Mama E. climbed into bed with me to hold me in her arms as she softly wept. I was barely aware of the silent tears running down my face too. Dad had turned away and was looking out the window. But I knew the set of his shoulders; he’d had that stance for days after Grandma had passed away.

The rain’s staccato died down to a random pattering of raindrops against the window.

————————————————————————————————————————

It was 3 weeks later, at Jason’s gravesite…’gravesite’ – such a cold word to be associated with one so young. Unfairly, it was a beautiful day. The sky was pale blue with dainty scallops of cloud here and there in a brilliantly sunny day. Some children present were running around giggling, children of family friends I think, who still hadn’t gotten old enough to ignore the weather and be gloomy enough, at least on the outside, to focus on what was at hand. They’d just started this new format in funerals in Ghana where we would have the burial service at the gravesite, surrounded by only a few friends and loved ones. The fully traditional part would come later.

Jason lay there in that white box, smart as ever in a two-piece white suit. I had a sudden recollection of when we tag-teamed as Two-Face during our Junior High Costume-themed Dinner. We both dyed our hair half-black and half-white and, since he was fairer, he wore a black two-piece suit and I wore a white two-piece suit. His date then – can’t seem to remember her name now – was in a white dinner dress while mine was in a black one. We could feel the envy practically radiating off our classmates who came as fairies and bunnies and what not…in Africa! He always had this way of convincing me to spearhead our crazy schemes. That was because by the age of 12 everyone was unto him and success usually only lay in my less naughty face.

It was when the preacher paused during the sermon about…oh hell, I don’t remember whatit was about! All I know is that it was during a pause for the choir present to sing one more mournful song that it started all over again: Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump!

Jason’s heart! It had never beaten so quickly and strongly before. It felt like I’d been doing a steady 30kmph for close to an hour. I’d idly read up on some articles on transplants so the first thing that popped up into my mind was “Is the heart rejecting me?!” I looked frantically towards the open casket, maybe expecting to see Jason suddenly come back to life, rising up with hands stretched out towards my chest!… Okay, maybe I was overreacting there. But I bet you’ve never been as panicked as I was that day. It still didn’t stop me from craning my neck to look once more into the open casket. Jason hadn’t moved. In fact, I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile on his face just then – but I guess it was just my nerves or something.

It then occurred to me to look around the gravesite: maybe something there had set off this panic mode subconsciously. As I turned away towards the back of the crowd, the heart beat even faster and louder in my ears. Someone must be able to hear this too, I remember thinking. But no one seemed to hear anything out of the ordinary. Mama Efua, sitting next to me, just gave me a quizzical look when she noticed my out of place behaviour, after which she smiled slightly and squeezed my hand before turning to the reverend as he began to read from a passage. That’s when I saw some classmates of mine and Jason’s, seated at the back. Then as suddenly as it began, my new heart stopped acting up. Weird? Definitely.

- Tele…

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Just because every story has a flipside…

‘Did you see that old man pass by?’ Nishi asked his companion in a conspiratorial whisper. He was pointing at an elderly man a few metres away, just leaving the Beer-sheba marketplace.

While Nishi was a rather gaunt-looking man, tall and thin with a perpetual look of distaste on his face, his companion was a portly man with a rather unwelcoming face to suit his usually gruff and heartless manner. He was known in Beer-sheba and its surrounding towns as the Merchant, Amron. Seemingly, the only one who could stand his company for any appreciable amount of time was Nishi. Probably because both men saw in one another the same untrustworthy and ruthless nature he himself already had. Together, they made up nearly half of the total business force of Beer-sheba.

Tossing the old man a side-long glace, Amron replied, “Yes? What about him?”

“I heard he left the land of his people to trek through the wilderness in wild pursuit of some god! He says it’s a god he cannot see or feel but he still believes in him, anyway!”

Amron then turned his head to get a better look at the receding figure. ‘What an idiot! I think he is a bit uh-uh up there!’ he retorted, tapping his temple with a finger! And then he proceeded to say the words that would forever ring in Nishi’s ears whenever he thought of his friend Amron. “I would never be that foolish! Doing all that with no tangible guarantee! If I ever do something as foolish, may I be struck down by the spear of Baal! In fact, if anyone or anything of my household serves this god, may he strike me down in my tracks, if he can!”

Nishi cast a quizzical look at Amron in shock. He had not thought that Amron would be so vocal and vituperative about the man’s story. And that usually meant that sooner or he would turn just as vindictive on anyone around. So to forestall that, Nishi quickly changed the subject to something he knew would make Amron happy.

“So when do we take delivery of Ber-roth from Zaki, the cloth merchant?”

At once, Amron’s mood brightened. Rubbing his palms together in a barely concealed glee, he chuckled, “I told him not till tomorrow … but just for the fun of it, let’s go get the ram after this game, eh?”

Happy at the turn of events, Nishi agreed. “Sure. Right after I beat you at this, so at least you’ll still have something to look forward to!”

‘Whatever you say my friend’, Amron replied, ‘whatever you say’.

By evening, just after tying up Ber-roth, the two men relaxed in a sitting room in Amron’s house, drunk on wine from a neighbouring town: tribute from a wine merchant wishing to curry favours from Amron to broaden his business.

Amron was half passed out; drunk with the wine, but Nishi stared still into his wine cup, his third of the evening. Events of the last hour at Zaki’s played over: Zaki’s wife crying over the result of their visit. Amron gloating with the ram on a rope in tow. Zaki standing at the door, crest fallen.

Zaki was a merchant who had once fallen prey to one of Amron’s loan-entrapment schemes. Now, in order to pay Amron back, Zaki had to give Ber-roth, his prize ram – a magnificent creature upon whom Zaki’s alternate income depended. This meant that for a period of time – days, weeks, maybe even months – his family would be forced to live from hand to mouth.

As Amron led Ber-roth away that evening, Zaki finally spoke out in a quiet voice.

“Amron, you have not shown me mercy. Neither have you spared a kind thought for my family’s survival. And because it’s too painful to acknowledge that I’m giving up this ram to a person like you, I give up Ber-roth to someone greater; to the One who made him. May He do what He wants with him.”

He then gathered up his family and shepherded them into the house, leaving the two outside, Nishi somewhat embarrassed, but Amron with a smug look on his face as he proceeded to drag the ram away.

Amron tied the ram to the fence when they entered his compound and without another glance at it, entered the house, calling for a drink.

Dawn, two days later, Nishi got up from bed with a pressing need to visit his friend Amron. In about an hour, he was at Amron’s house and was at once struck by the uncanny silence, despite the early hour.

He then noticed Ber-roth’s rope, somehow frayed, trailing in the dust and sand…no Ber-roth.

Just then, the front door of the house opened and Amron staggered out clutching his chest. ‘Ber-roth!’, he gasped, falling to his knees.

Nishi quickly ran to support him before he collapsed to the ground entirely. He seemed to be burning with a fever of some sort. And everyone seemed to be missing because Nishi’s call for help went unanswered.

Feeling Amron grasp his tunic, he turned to look at his friend and heard him wheeze painfully, “Ber-roth’s gone! He somehow tore the rope and ran off!”

With these words, he gave a last breath and with one last violent shudder, died in Nishi’s arms!

Fear gripped Nishi as he stared into Amron’s lifeless eyes, shocked. Then suddenly the pieces fit together as flashes of memory ran through his mind: the old man, Amron’s oath, Zaki’s words and finally, Ber-roth’s frayed rope. He then knew, without a doubt, the truth.

“The nameless God did this’, he whispered, ‘but Amron brought it upon himself. This is a mighty God indeed!’

Elsewhere, Ber-roth walked resolutely on to a mountain and into a bush to fulfill his destiny, in response to a Call…that of his Maker.

- Tele…

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It’s been a singularly tough week for me so as usual I turned to my therapy process: writing! And this time, it seemed the only thing that could fix me up was the hopes of a Dream, a Dream of what everyone wishes for: Love that would stick it out through everything.

I write like this simply because I still believe that the Real Thing is out there. And after all that happens and all the stresses of life, sometimes all you want to say to that Someone is simply, “Just Love Me…“

Outside it’s dark
Dark that’s spread inside
Inside our small 2-bedroom house
House that stands out like an island
Island dark, bereft in a sea of light
Light our neighbours take for granted
Granted, to each his own path
Path we’ve walked down that brought us here.
Here where the roof is leaking
Leaking cold rain as it storms outside
Outside where my jalopy lies rusting
Rusting because I cannot pay to have it fixed
Fixed our doors and windows finally though
Though no self-respecting thief would bother to rob
Rob us of possessions we barely have
Have we anything of value still? – I wonder
Wonder how we seem day to day to survive
Survive on a life of lottery
Lottery to pick everyday: Breakfast, Lunch or Supper
Supper of cassava, fish and pepper
Pepper is what it seems Life has thrown into our eyes
Eyes that threaten to go bleak with despair
Despair that would surely seal our fate
Fate could surely not be so cruel
Cruel in dealing us this raw hand
Hand-to-mouth existence is now what we’re reduced to
To take my life would be an easy decision now

Now I’m left with nothing and no one but you
But you give me strength to go on
Go on living this hard life till the sun comes out again
Out again to brighten up my world
My world that’s nothing without you
Without you, life wouldn’t be worth living
Worth living this pitiful existence.

So hold me now
Tell me today may be bad but tomorrow will be better
Tell me they may all detest me but you still love me
Tell me I may have lost it all but I’ll never lose you
Tell me I may be lost but you’ll always find me
Tell me I may have nothing, but you have me
- and that’s all that matters to you.

© February 2012

- Tele…

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This piece was actually inspired by an incident a friend narrated to me a while ago. I immediately told her that I’d write a poem about it but I guess she thought I was joking! Sometimes we pray for something so much and so hard that we forget to prepare for it and when we do get it, well, we don’t handle it too well (sometimes we don’t even realise that we’ve received out request  until it’s too late!) For his Girlfriend: When You’re Loving a Prayer Papa!

She was lost twice over
Before she met this Christian Brother
He told her life could be much better
And so he drew her near to meet his dear Father
Till with many days of desperate prayer
From her burdens the Lord managed to deliver her.

Whilst growing in His garden as a Pretty Flower
His servant, Christian Brother, drew still closer
Praying and fasting until he could finally lightly sputter
To Christian Sister that he truly loved her
And would be still praying for a favourable answer
Which, at last, she was able to render.

So Christian Brother and Christian Sister
Began a new Fellowship chaperoned by none but The Father
But as Life went on it increasingly became clearer
That Christian Brother was not a natural ‘carer’
And when Christian Sister needed a caring shoulder
All she could get was “Jehovah is our Provider!”

Now Christian Sister knew where to find one who ‘cared’ for her
Her former boyfriend of days past – Big Boi, the Player
Who’d always had an understanding kindly ear
And had been calling weekly since, for the past year
But she’d decided to relate as such to him no longer
For his conversations would usually stray into the realm of the improper.

Now all this she’d wisely kept from Christian Brother
Because she knew it’d only make him feel lesser – or even drive him to anger
And besides, running to Big Boi Player was not the answer
Someone would have to change Christian Brother!
Then turning to the One who had all the Power
She got down on bent knees to beseech her heavenly Father.

“Dear Lord who picked me from the miry clay
I come on my knees today to pray
Remembering You’ll not just clear obstacles that block my way
In my daily walk to triumph come what may
But will embolden me to stand up and say
- The Lord my God shall be with me every step of the way!
You were the One who brought Christian Brother along my way
And kept on teaching us how to love like You do, everyday
But it’s with a heavy heart I’ve come before you to say
He just doesn’t care for me in the right way.
Shrugs when I complain, saying ‘Anyway,
It’s all the Lord’s doing keep trusting in His way’
And that’s the constant response to whatever I say -
One-stop cure for every concern it’s supposed to allay!
When sometimes all I’d really need is for him to say
‘It’ll be alright; I’m here for you come what may’

So I get insecure at times
When he gives me those stereotyped lines
For I believe he doesn’t care
And uses Your Name just so
I can get out of his hair!
So God please touch Christian Brother with your Understanding
So he may show himself a man of Your own Choosing
Living what You truly meant by ‘Loving’
Instead of hiding behind the Excuse that it’s You that he’s Serving!
Amen”.

-Tele…

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