You were the kind of person who gave it all hundred percent, life and living it was not such a struggle because it was easy to let you heart lead your mind into deep commitment. Or maybe your life and living it was so easy because you mind was stronger than your heart so it lead naturally. It didn’t mean that there were no failures but even the failures were easy to deal with and rectify. Maybe all you had to do lift your spirit was a stroke of lipstick, your favourite colour of nail polish, or just maybe you didn’t need all that because the inner strength was all you needed. And that made giving it all so easy. So you kept going and you were in such a good place.   Then boom…….what just happened? you ask. If you are lucky you will get to know at what point you let off. You may realize when everyone passed you by…. At this point the music has stopped playing…realities check Your reality maybe that you have given up on what made your soul smile because kn your quest to live you became too easy to live. Your reality maybe the fact that you excuses made out of fear (fear of being alone, fear of being hurt or disappointed) has made you stop living. I woke up this morning with a smile….a realisation that I have another opportunity. I can start the music again because I finally realised it’s stopped. Thank you Baby Jesus


I WAS THERE IN THE ROOM. Eve Ensler, the author of THE VAGINA MONOLOGUE was present for the birth of her granddaughter. She was in awe of vaginas before that moment, she’s in deep worship now.




I was there when her vagina opened.

We were all there, her mother, her husband and I,

and the nurse from the Ukraine with her whole hand

up there in her vagina feeling and turning with her rubber

glove as she talked casually to us — like she was turning on a loaded faucet.


I was there in the room when the contractions

made her crawl on all fours,

made unfamiliar moans leak out of her pores

and still there after hours when she just screamed suddenly

wild, her arms striking at the electric air.


I was there when her vagina changed

from a shy sexual hole

to an archeological tunnel, a sacred vessel,

a Venetian canal, a deep well with a tiny stuck child inside,

waiting to be rescued.


I saw the colors of her vagina.  They changed.

Saw the bruised broken blue

the blistering tomato red

the gray pink — the dark;

saw the blood like perspiration along the edges

saw the yellow, white liquid, the shit, the clots

pushing out all the holes, pushing harder and harder,

saw through the hole, the baby’s head

scratches of black hair, saw it just there behind

the bone — a hard round memory,

as the nurse from the Ukraine kept turning and turning

her slippery hand.


I was there when each of us, her mother and I,

held a leg and spread her wide pushing with all our strength against her pushing

and her husband sternly counting, “One, two, three,”

telling her to “focus, harder.”

We looked into her then.

We couldn’t get our eyes out of that place.


We forget the vagina — All of Us

what else would explain

our lack of awe, our lack of reverence.


I was there when the doctor

reached in with Alice in Wonderland spoons

and there as her vagina became a wide operatic mouth

singing with all its strength;

first the little head, then the gray flopping arm, then the fast swimming body, swimming

quickly into our weeping arms.


I was there later when I just turned and faced her vagina.

I stood and let myself see her all spread, completely exposed

mutilated, swollen and torn,

bleeding all over the doctor’s hands

who was calmly sewing her there.


I stood and her vagina suddenly

became a wide red pulsing heart.


The heart is capable of sacrifice.

So is the vagina. 

The heart is able to forgive and repair.

It can change its shape to let us in.

It can expand to let us out.

So can the vagina.

It can ache for us and stretch for us, die for us

and bleed and bleed us into this difficult, wondrous world.

I was there in the room.

I remember.


BREEZY- the cultural fallout and my personal lesson.

Me I didn’t go and see the show so I kept quiet until the denials started coming from the organizers and sponsors, then I started believing there must be some amount of truth. Being a conspiracy theorist I tend to believe anything big corporation denies. (Don’t mind me. I watch too much TV)

I had followed the trend of criticism on social media and as much as I think CB was not cool enough to have done what we are all blaming him of, I think we are all blaming the wrong person just like we blame the white man for slave trade and all our woes.

Let us look at it this way; before I introduce my boyfriend to my father, (A million bucks guy no less) it is my responsibility to let him understand the culture of the old man’s home. The dos and don’ts, what will make him invite the man back for a drink and what is passable, if I do all these then I not to be blamed of any foolishness that he does in my father’s presence.

This is a 23 year old boy who has shown enough indiscipline as it were.  Where he comes from, attention and popularity is gained from such stupidity, therefore the organizer and sponsors should have been weary enough.

But as a people are we culturally aware enough????

But all said and done, dude has collected his million bucks and I am sure he is going to have a lot fun spending it….as usual all we do is talk after the occurrence rather than foreseeing it.

I prefer we look into ourselves and start taking some amount of responsibility for what befalls in all aspects of our being.

Lyrics to India.Arie’s I AM NOT MY HAIR……

I went seaching for this song because of some comments I had on one of my Facebook profile picture……Here is the link (http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151343435527150&set=a.464271677149.252785.525237149&type=3&theater)


Is that India.Arie? What happened to her hair? Ha ha ha ha ha
Dat dad a dat da [4x] Dad a ooh

[Verse 1]
Little girl with the press and curl
Age eight I got a Jheri curl
Thirteen I got a relaxer
I was a source of so much laughter
At fifteen when it all broke off
Eighteen and went all natural
February two thousand and two
I went and did
What I had to do
Because it was time to change my life
To become the women that I am inside
Ninety-seven dreadlock all gone
I looked in the mirror
For the first time and saw that HEY….

I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I ma not this skin
I am a soul that lives within


What’d she do to her hair? I don’t know it look crazy
I like it. I might do that.
Umm I wouldn’t go that far. I know .. ha ha ha ha

[Verse 2]
Good hair means curls and waves
Bad hair means you look like a slave
At the turn of the century
Its time for us to redefine who we be
You can shave it off
Like a South African beauty
Or get in on lock
Like Bob Marley
You can rock it straight
Like Oprah Winfrey
If its not what’s on your head
Its what’s underneath and say HEY….

I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I ma not this skin
I am a soul that lives within


(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better person?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better friend? Oooh
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair determine my integrity?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
I am expressing my creativity..
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)

[Verse 3]
Breast Cancer and Chemotherapy
Took away her crown and glory
She promised God if she was to survive
She would enjoy everyday of her life ooh
On national television
Her diamond eyes are sparkling
Bald headed like a full moon shining
Singing out to the whole wide world like HEY…

[Chorus 2x]

I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I ma not this skin

[Ad lib]
If I wanna shave it close
Or if I wanna rock locks
That don’t take a bit away
From the soul that I got
Dat da da dat da [4x]
If I wanna where it braided
All down my back
I don’t see what wrong with that
Dat da da dat da [4x]

Is that India.Arie?
Ooh look she cut her hair!
I like that, its kinda PHAT
I don’t know if I could do it.
But it looks sharp, it looks nice on her
She got a nice shaped head
She got an apple head
I know right?
It’s perfec


Happy Valentine’s day to all lovers

lyrics of “MY GIFT IS MY SONG

by Ewan McGregor

Moulin Rouge Soundtrack


My gift is my song… and this one’s for you
And you can tell everybody that this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
That I put down in words…
How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world

I sat on the roof and I cant tell for miles
Well some of these verses, well they,
they’ve got me quite cross
But the sun’s been kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes, I’ve ever seen

And you can tell everybody that this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world



I promised myself that, this blog is going to stay away from politics and all that intellectual crap but I guess I lied to myself again (it happens a lot).

Ok black stars lost and it hurt so as usual we are looking for avenues to settle the blame

Thank God that so far I have not heard it blamed on witchcraft (at least God of Ghana sent us guiding angels in the forms of Referees) the loudest nonsense I have head so far is that our team is not hungry enough…..I say bullshit (sorry for the unlady –like language). Why shouldn’t they be hungry?  Not a single member of our team has achieved a quarter of what Messi has but the young man plays with so much hunger it’s beautiful. So scrap you “hunger” argument please

Let’s look at this……

We sent a team with a captain who is also our lead striker…..who by the way has sworn off playing penalties because he got bashed when he missed a penalty at the world cup……  but then again didn’t he think he deserved the bashing? This is a guy who earns as much as someone’s annual salary before tax in 90mins. And we pamper him so much to allow him the luxury of what and when to play?

During TV3’S MENTOR first few seasons’ people thought Mike Okraku was a mean son of a bitch which I totally agree with but so is the industry they were entering. What I am saying is, it’s a harsh world out there and the country pays you enough to keep us happy so you do your damned best to keep us happy. And if you are the captain of the team you do double the task to inspire, push and shove every bit of energy you have. In my view, Paintsil was far more inspirational and would have been a better captain.

Don’t misunderstand me. I am not blaming our miserable failure on Asamoah Gyan…..I am blaming it on the ripple effect of a nation who is willing to trust without verification. A nation filled with people who feel entitled just because the live and breathe. You earn my respect when your success is consistent. When you can fall but rise up, dust yourself and reach higher motivated by your failure. But we vote in a presidential candidate because he has bid his time and we vote in a president because we believe we are being unfair if we vote him out after a few months in office. For instance who decided that he is fit enough mentally to be in the team thoughtless captain it. Besides money is the league he plays in more competitive than our premier league.

Oh and our coach decide to replace the one man who have managed to score all his penalties in the tournament with less than 10mins to go into extra time (brilliant) I am not a coach but common sense tells me that unless the chap is crawling on the field with blood from his nose you don’t take him off.

In Ghana, we confuse confidence with arrogance.  Glaring examples will be Dede Ayew and Nana Akuffo Addo. (You can choose to disagree)

We are also a tad unambitious. Maybe stems from the culture of not encouraging the young from being expressive so much that by the time they are old enough to express themselves their energy would have been sucked out of them by the system or they become only interested in sitting still and biding their time so they can enjoy their pension (that is if they do) or maybe it’s just who we are. (What the hell)

Would you like to bet with me that we would sent a similar squad to the next AFCON tournament.

What am I going on about? I stand to be corrected but I have never heard any class action suit against any service provider in a country where the electricity company has got the policy of a minimum of 24 hours to solve “faults” when they get complains…..(don’t believe me? Call 0302611611)

A nation suffering from short memory and “gyae ma n3 nka”

I remember a journey I made from Konongo to Kumasi when the 3 seater policy was introduced by the DVLA for minivans. If you have used a Hyundia grace Nkawkaw to Kumasi. The drivers mate decided that a passenger would drop of in Odumase so he would pick a 4th passenger and my loud mouth said no. the first person to call me “too known” was a lady passenger who thought it was “nothing”

Tell me you’ve not had to shut up and endure something because you were scared of the reaction of the other people around you.