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Posts Tagged ‘Ben Anyan’

The Perfect Mistress iii

26 Mar

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. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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The Perfect Mistress II

13 Feb

Tell me, why does Kusi’s wahala captivate you so much? Is it because you’ve lived it, or you easily could? What do you think, does the childhood sweetheart win over the impending bride? This week’s piece clarifies things more. But just a reminder on where we left off;

After week one, Kailie and I hit it off like it we had never been apart. But I never really liked her, it was Afua, it had always been her and at the time, I didn’t know it’ll always be her. Because of Kailie, Afua and I got to speak once in a while, then it became more frequent till we could have ten-minute conversations on our own. She was delicate and intricate, sweet and obstinate, so strong willed, so…so…Afua.

I didn’t have to wait a whole year to return to Newark, Aunty Kay wanted me over for the Christmas break too. It was impromptu, but I was delighted to go. Kailie wasn’t expecting me till the next summer, and I guess the chilly winter made allowing Calvin Safo privileges seem like a smart thing to do. When I found out, I was hurt, naturally, but not devastatingly so. It was that vac Afua and I got really close.

*            *             *

I secretly thanked Kailie for her blunder and savored every moment I spent with Afua. Fortunately, they had had some girl squabble and weren’t on good terms, all the better! Things were fast-slow with Afua, I mean we were very close, but she wouldn’t let me in (I don’t meant that literally!). She was full of life and knew at thirteen that she wanted to be a top lawyer with a major New York firm. She was so intelligent, the first time I heard the word ‘evasive’ was when she used it to describe me. She couldn’t grasp how I always managed to dodge her serious questions, and there was something she just couldn’t figure out about me. In retrospect, I guess that’s what kept me on her mind.

Her mum and mine had gotten pretty close, and along with Aunty Kay, had become a trinity of sorts, all the better! On my last day, when she realized she wasn’t going to see me for another six months she gave me a hug so intimate, so pure I wouldn’t trade it for all the kisses I’ve had since (countless, with most meaningless). That’s why if you ask me, I don’t think the sweetness of a hug is proportional to how foamy the lady’s chest is. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

All-seasons, Loving you.

10 Jun

Hi people, it’s been too long since you were feasted to a down-right, through and through love poem that speaks the words your heart thinks but just hasn’t found the words for. So here you go.

I was in the mood, my mind was ready for a trip, so I just went with the flow. She came to mind too. I wanted to connect the fond feelings that come with holidays to that strong emotion that drives us nuts. Do tell me if I did a good job :-) Enjoy.

All-seasons, Loving you.

You climb down my mind into my heart like Santa down a chimney

You paint your glow on me like decorations on an Easter egg

And get me grinning like an Easter bunny

You set me alight like bulbs on a Christmas tree

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted in Love, Poems

 

I’ve lost it…for you!

11 Mar

This poem smears the sweetest words all over you like you were freshly baked tea-bread and it was Planta margarine :-) It describes the helplessness of being in Love. I should know how that feels like, i’m sure you do too :-P    

 I’m losing control,    

I can’t feel my soul    

 It’s rubbing itself at your feet,  

 And purring like a cat.  Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted in Love, Poems

 

Love & Sanguinity-Injected with a truth serum.

03 Feb

Hmmn, charley nsem piiii o. This is about the most difficult post I’ve written, because it opens me up…small, and that kind of makes me feel vulnerable. That’s understandable right? Did you know that your temperament –to a very great extent- influences how you act in your relationship? It permeates the frequency with which you want to be with your partner and how often you say those three majic magic (always spell that word wrong) words; I love you. How do I know? On the job training and a discerning diagnosis. Vague huh, lemme explain.

There’s a danger in misconstruing your actions and preferences as normal by everyone’s standard. I was like that.

  • I base the intensity of my friendships not on how often we talk, but by how easy it is for us to pick up where we left off and how long we keep at it when we do. I’m not the frequent-caller type. I’ll call, I will, but there won’t ever come a time when you’ll see my call and say “Aarrgghh Ben againnnn???!!”
  • I’d like that when we spoke, that it would really count. So if it’s just about the weather or whether or not you took Coke today instead of sprite, forgellaboutit.
  • It’s not that I easily and quickly get tired of the same company. Moderation is the key here. We can keep going and going, talking two hours every day, but to what end? Till it becomes routine and you base your assessment of our failing friendship on fewer hours of talk time?
  • I hate those times in a convo when both of us have nothing to say, and in order to avoid that gnawing, tense dead silence I desperately have to clutch on the first thought that comes to mind so we have something to talk about. So out of nowhere you’ll have me asking “Ei, so do you think Kufuor is a virgin??!!” loll, imagine that.
  • I hate conversations that are like classic old plays where everyone knows their lines and says the same things all the time. Like say you see me at the mall, we weren’t friends back in uni, and you could very well pass by, or just say hi without doing any damage, but you have to come over and say; (the stuff in bracket are what I’m actually thinking) Read the rest of this entry »
 
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Posted in Blog, Love

 

Melting Moments

22 Jun

I just finished going through my picture gallery, each one indeed speaking a thousand words. In one of the pictures, I was an innocent-looking 8yr old boy with a boil on my right eyelid (yes, eye lid o), wearing a second-hand corduroy car-wash, with what looks like worn-out, oversized mummy leather slippers, posing on the white-washed wall of our old family house in Osu for an original Kodak moment. In the very next picture, I’m a dashing 23 yr old graduate, in blue denims, a coffee-brown army-like fitting shirt and a (made in Ciano) D&G leather belt. To complement the outfit I was in a blue-black trendy nike sneaker and Ray Barnes stunners acting like I wasn’t even aware a digital  picture was being taken of me.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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