Articles and Short Stories

 

       11 + - 11 =   .......

We stood there at the parade grounds with our all neat Monday school looks. Though my uniform was older than me, I still made sure it always was the greatest. Fuseni, who stood right behind me, playfully would dip his hand into my back pocket as if to rob me and at each time he did that I would turn and say "ooh stop it", "what have you to lose" would be his response.

The school prefects stood on a square block platform in front of the assembly. From there they conducted the morning devotion. It always followed the same procedures. The senior boys prefect would clear his course throat and shout with that his tiny voice "Eyes Close", the girls do most obey the command but we the big boys at the back would bury our faces in our palms allowing gaps within our fingers. There was this fair girl in class five, her father was the head teacher and rumours had it that she once lived in the UK and was the boys prefect's rose flower. It was obvious why he always called her to give the morning tune, and trust me, she got the voice of Lucifer, tiny, sweet and melodious (Gentle Jesus, meek and mild), "ready gooo" the prefect will scream just after the tune and we will all fall in the choir to pollute the song with our cockroach voices.

Mr. Bediako most of the times patrolled the back lines to check those who misbehaved at parade grounds with his cane called 'abaa kofi' (the longest cane in the school).

"And lead us not into emmation and forgave us our tlespassing" . . Mr. Bediako shouted from behind "Stop it, stop, Yes...Fuseni recite it alone". The whole grounds went into cemetery silence awaiting the explosion of some bombshells from Fuseni. As his best friend I knew for sure Fuseni wouldn't let out a word and certainly he folded his lips into his mouth. One thing Fuseni was popular for was his ability to take countless lashes of Mr. Bediako's abaa kofi without a tear drop. So when he refused to recite the Lord's prayer, the next action was apparent.

The matching song was again given by Laureen following the command of her Alex(the boys prefect). The Kindergarten clases were first to leave, followed by class one up to class six, the JSS pupils normally don't match, they just would walk to their class after we all have left. 

As it was the tradition of the school, every Monday was for class tests. We entered our class room and the arrangement of the desks had been disturbed. Some chairs stood on others and some tables also were climbing others. We all knew it was the class two pupils who had been allotted to sweep our class every morning. Quickly and angrily our class prefect with other big guys hurried to the class two room and ordered for the job to be redone properly under the supervision of their raging eyes. 

Some minutes after the classroom was brought to order, Mrs Akpabli entered, she greeted us in a smiling face and swiped his finger across her desk, obviously it was dusty, Esther rushed to her desk with a duster and did the cleaning.

Mrs Akpabli, instructed us to bring all our books and bags forward, then and there we knew it was another early morning stubborn class test coming our way. We opened our exercise books to the very middle pages and tore double sheets each. " 1. Don't forget to write your names on your booklets. and 2. " No cheating,... we all said it before Mrs Akpabli could continue. 

Mrs Akpabli called Fuseni and insisted that he took the exams on her desk, far apart from the class but Fuseni objected based on grounds that he too was one of us and could not stand been treated differently. So after some minutes She allowed him to sit behind me, She knew very little about the rather secret friendship that existed between me and Fuseni.

Our Madam, started pouring on the chalk board some ten maths questions on sums, subtractions and multiplications. They were as simple as the examples we had solved the past Friday, everybody answered the questions happily, including Fuseni who had not even called me for a help. We all finished within tens minutes out of the thirty minutes given time.
Mrs Akpabli went round and realized we took them so cheap that the questions had lost its value as a class test, so she quickly added a eleventh question.

(11) 11 + - 11 =
We were only familiar with the simple ones and we never had met the combination of addition and subtraction. So immediately she wrote the question the whole class screamed, I frowned. Mrs Akpabli promised that anyone who got the eleventh question correct would be mentioned the best student and would be presented at the closing Assembly for gargantuan claps.

Five minutes after the eleventh question, she shouted stop work and started taking the papers from the front roll, Fuseni tapped my shoulder and asked what my answer was, I turned and said undertone "nothing" , Fuseni then wrote zero in the blank box. And tapped me again, this time he enquired if I was sure the answer was nothing, I laughed and before i could explain to him that by "nothing" I meant I didn't answer the question, mrs Akpabli had long taken his sheet away.

Mrs Akpabli, shared the papers among us and together we answered the questions one after the other, each time a question was answered we all would mark the paper on our desk, finally it got to the last question and Mrs Akpabli called the Class prefect to give his answer and He said 22, others too said 11, and when it got to me I said madam I didn't answer it. Behind me was Fuseni and Mrs Akpabli asked him and he said "Madam me I writed zero" .....In a surprised face she shouted "YESSSSSS, Fuseni you are right, the answer is zero"
She quickly requested for Fuseni's paper to verify and Lo and behold Fuseni had scored all correct.

Madam kept her words and announced Fuseni the new Class prefect and cleverest in our class at the closing Assembly ceremony. On the Way home, Fuseni was seen walking with Laureen the beauty of the School and the boys prefect's eye was red.
Today Fuseni and Laureen are both in the University of Ghana studying Law and are still together in love.

By Kweku Atta Crayon

 

   She Left With My Saturdays

 

Another Saturday is here and it makes me miss her the more. I am sitting at the windows and eating the morning sun rays. That's where she normally would come behind me and ask in her melodious voice, "what would you take for breakfast besides the sun" and we both would discharge those funny laughs. Sometimes I turned my head to grab her lips for our first kiss of a Saturday, other days she would deposit her head on my shoulders, resting all her conscious heart, knowing well that she was safe in the shoulders of a beloved one. With me she said she had no worries and could spend her entirety only sleeping in my heart.

"Cliffy" that was how she called me and no one else dared called me same, she would scream at the person and say "please am the only one who calls him by that name and don't ask me why because the answer lies in our hearts"

She made life seem like the ones the characters in an Indian love movie lived. I didn't have to worry about anything for everything she would turn into a music.

I miss her everyday but it gets worse on Saturdays night. It either began in my room or hers. She would send me a whatsapp message "Am taking care of the night" and though I will be happy I would intentionally reply "my dear No, you can't spend on me, am the man"...."come on, then am not going, lest I do the spending tonight", she would respond and I would jump to the ceiling, convinced that my last ghc20 was safe for the next week.

She would turn swiftly like a model and ask me "hey how do I look?" I would clip my thumb to the next finger and place it on my lips and cut it across to say " perfect". You know my dear, one thing is true and it is that I am proud of the woman in you and outside you. Beauty.......heerrh stop it there, she would cut in. "If I don't stop you we will end up in another poetry performance in this room" she would say and burst into laughter. "But my dear, am proud of you as a Poet" she quickly would add.

She had this taxi driver friend, she would call her and away we gone to our favourite spot. We sit over sticks of khebab and some many bottles of assorted drinks.

We would drink and talk heartily, at some minutes we laughed, others we would discuss more serious issues which mostly included our education, life after school, our flamboyant marriage and our sweet unborn kids. We knew the gender of our kids and we always named them. I remember one night she said our first born would be Doreen and I questioned if it came a boy and she said, have faith, we want a girl first born and we broke into that our lovely laughs which called attention from the surrounding customers. A gentle walked to us and in a broad smile said "we have been watching you guys from our table and it is interesting, you guys make a happy couple" and we laughed.

We had smart wrist watches but we always measured time with the moon, just because we both loved playing with our predictions and anytime she won it generated another 'I woonnn, I won hits and teases' and I would play the cool gentle loser game.

Our Saturdays would normally end in a deep sleep on her bed. Her hostel was the one for rich students, one-in-a room. For mine, we slept six-in-a room and that was when we didn't have anyone perching.

We would sleep like loons and wake up when the sun had taken over from the moon. She would wake me up and serve me a breakfast on bed. And said it is Sunday, do what you know I would want my man to do.

Let me stop here I only wanted you to know a Saturday with my a friend who left me without a word about her whereto

     

 

    A HAPPY WEEPING NIGHT

A night ago I spent more than an hour listening to a war victim from La cote Ivoire. Her English was very bad yet she did her best to pass her grief onto me.
I sat right in front of her with my eyes rooted into hers. She wept and I couldn't hold back mine. We both had a beautiful weeping night. So sorrowful. she paused her tears and said, "Cliff, I fiiling Liberation, no one hearing me story before, no one wanna know, thank you".

I felt the true liberation in her voice and I could see her soul up and dancing in her tattered heart. I wished I could perform a magic,I wish I could speak to those pieces of heart to stitch together and return to normal. I looked on helplessly as she spread wild smiles through her drops of tears ( TEARS OF SELF FREEDOM).

"Can we make this a monthly recurring meeting?" I asked...."Oh oh Cliff, I English so big, what is your talk?" she retorted. I gave off a quick laughter and she chased me with a fist.
She hit her toe against a stone and trembled, I made an attempt to catch her from falling and she landed in my palms. Her eyes which were some few minutes ago a fountain of tears had now dried up to a mountain of beauty and she laughed like she never had known war or death. I positioned her fully back on two feet and held her left hand as we walked to nowhere or I knew somewhere?

We both knew we had no destination though we were close to our hostel, either of us was ready to break the company and so we took the air in the parks. The romance had just began.

We stopped by a mango tree which has for the past years been infertile. The talking ceased and we both grinned. Silence took the floor and the drop of a leaf could be heard. Fiorna said "Cliff I missing my mother and sister", I am sorry, God knows best, was all I could say. Inside me, I was praying she doesn't infest the moment with her horrific past.

For the first time, God clearly did not answer my prayers, she continued, this in a terrified voice " Cliff, the trees remember day Mum, Gerty die, Cliff please...(her voice was shaken now and I could sense the panic) please they die, they die under trees, trees like this, Dad killed them", I quickly interrupted "Hold it, who killed them?" I asked very anxiously and she raised her head and stared deep into my eyes. Goose pimples bathed me, I was frightened by the way she looked at me, it was as if to say 'YOU KILLED THEM'.

I took my eyes off hers, she held my head and said softly into my ears, listen to their voice in my eyes, can you hear them narrate to you how they died and do they cry for a revenge. This time I wish I could run away leaving her behind, my legs started shaking uncontrollably and I had no more bravery in me. "Cliff, please look my eyes, tell me how they die, tell me how they do now". I gazed foolishly into her eyes and I could hear a voice advised me to kiss her. I sent my head a lip closer and before she could voice a word, our lips had already met and the kissing was involuntary, it happened unconsciously.

She retired her head and said I think they love you. I shouted at her, PLEASE STOP SCARING ME WITH YOUR PAST, IT IS YOU AM SEEING NOW AND NOBODY, LET THOSE GHOSTS REST IN PEACE OR WAR. PLEEEASSSE. That was the craziest thing I ever did. She broke down in heavy tears now and started running towards the hostel. I followed and when I caught up with her, she refused to listen to me. she begged me to let go off her. I did so.

This morning she came to my room and her first words, "Cliff, thank you for yesterday, the past is past and the presence is here and now. sorry".
I smiled and rose to hug her.
Do you want to know something? She is seated right here next to me as I complete this story. And she is laughing her heart out. I guess tonight will be another walk, this time you can predict the title of the NIGHT.

A RECIPE OF DISCOVERY

She entered the restaurant in the steps of a model, she waved her waist like a flag. I threw my eyes across to check whether my attention was the only one she had arrested but I realized everyone including the females in the building were staring at this goddess who had just appeared in the midst of humans. She was the toast of all men seated or standing.
She grabbed herself a seat and beckoned the waiter, then and there I was so jealous of the waiter and I started regretting ever refusing a restaurant job offer some years ago. She was soon served with a sweating bottle of Smirnoff ice and she seeped whiles we all gazed foolishly.

Baam, I heard a sound behind me and turned, a gentle man in a political suit had just been slapped by the woman seated right in front of him, for which ever reason I was curious to dig, so I transferred half of my attention to the couple seated behind me. About a minute of silence applauded the slap of the day, after which a susurration took place between them. It was so faint that I barely could grab every word, it therefore demanded that I deposited all my ears and eyes. So this is what my ears collected
Man: Honey, why this slap
Woman: Don’t annoy me, what at all were you examining about the lady
Man: Is that why you embarrassed me
Woman: And I can do that again if you dare me
Man: If you had been as beautiful as she is, I wouldn’t have been staring
(The woman serves him another slap, this time heavier and the sound was deafening, now everybody attended to them)

The rest of the conversation came out of a microphone in their anger, I didn’t have to strain my ears again, and it was louder to the hearing of all around.
Woman: You are a very useless and shameful idiot
Man: If staring at the lady is what annoys you the most, then you are about to die
(the man got up and moved in the direction of the goddess)
Woman: go, go, you will one day realize the queen in me, ungrateful man, after helping you get a job, placing you in the suit you wear now…tears run down her eyes.

No sooner had the man neared the lady than she left her seat. This beautiful lady modelled her way towards the woman and threw herself into the arms of the weeping woman. We were all confused but happy to see the lady consoling the woman who looked like one in her late 40’s and the lady also looked like one in her mid 20’s.
From the sight of the man, he was left alone in disgrace and could be seen playing with his shame and the table cloth.
I quickly sent myself back to the woman and the lady who were then caught in some busy dialogue, seriousness had taken over the face of the woman whiles the lady kept pouring some words which none fell into my ears. After some minutes, the two were seen hugging and sharing tears which could best be described as ‘tears of joy’. 
Every living thing in the restaurant was confused and anxious to know what had happened. The man himself was lost in the movie, he also watched on with anxiety.
Then the lady cleared her coarse throat and wiped off the tears, generated a very broad smile with all her 32 teeth with each tooth presaging a good news to come, “She is my Mother” again tears started flowing. To us, she had worsened our curiosity and had pushed us into a deeper confusion. The man upon hearing that, left on the table his shame and the cloth and hurried his self towards her wife, he enveloped his wife who was now crying uncontrollably in his arm and asked what was happening. The lady borrowed the tongue of her mother and answered the man, “She is my mother, she abandoned me in the Pantang Children Home some 24 years ago,”. Quickly the man reached in for the hand of the lady and the trio headed outside for their car.

The whole restaurant was thrown into a hum drum and paired ones discussed the story under tone, I had no one to share with so I left for house and decided to discuss with my Facebook friends and Family.  

Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin

A MIGHTY TREE FELL BUT STILL LIVES.....HE Prof. J.E. Fiifi Atta Mills

Ghanians woke up to a cloudy greetings from the sky. It was indeed an augury to
herald a very important event. We slept the previous day with minds full
of the one year old cataclysm, it was barely a year when Ghana lost her
 president in office, first of its kind to occur.



In a sunny afternoon of 24th July,2012, a mighty tree fell in a jungle called Ghana, the abrupt change in weather presage his death even before official pronounciation on the nation's broadcasting channels.
A frigid wind blew gently across the nation touching each soul in the country, instantly thirsts were allayed, the happiest moments stopped in wonder, the busiest market came to activities halt and an unanticipated silence engulfed the whole nation, trees flagged their leaves less
intensively and animals were all motionless, everything living felt a jolt of pain either quickly or slowly pass through hearts.
Minutes after the Vice president had announced the demise of the sitting president, the whole country was thrown into a lachrymose state, water bodies increased in quantity with tear drops of touched women and some of us men-women.
I had just retired from a slumber when the news was been read on GTV, at a point I thought it was a day dream and so I said to myself 'hey cliff wake up', then I heard my younger brother
scream in a tearful voice 'oooohh Atta Mills is gone'. It was when I had my own taste of the news in town, I quickly chuted from the house to a neighbour's house and there too I was welcomed with the sad news, then I felt the coldness of the atmosphere.

I could sense the departing of something huge, I can't trust my instincts on whether it was the spirit of the Man or something else as more valuable and ginormous as the divine spirit of the late prof. Mills.

Today, Ghana celebrates the first year anniversary of the demise of prof. and
the weather surprisingly couldn't be any different from the day he died.
Meteorologists say that, on that day when he passed away , the rains
began from the Tema west and went through all of Accra, the rains
followed a very humid and cloudy atmosphere, and that was exactly what
happened today. Was it some kind of coincidence or this is Prof's own
way of showing up.

Ghana has indeed lost a father, brother, a hero but personally I have lost a mentor. A man whose dead
body unified all political parties in a heated political moment leading to the national elections. Even in his ex-animate state he still commanded peace, though it was amazing to some, it was very apparent of his peaceful nature to have witnessed a white dove descend from nowhere
unto the car which carried his casket to the burial grounds.

Today as we mark the one year anniversary, those who polluted his health with psychological hazards are the very ones expressing sympathy, need we consider it as coming from a sincere heart or a teasing one. If I am given the chance to contribute to the successes of Prof Mills, I will trash off all his developmental projects and replace them with his ability to resist temptation to reply to revilement and all slanderous defamation.
This was a man who expressed sincere bitterness against corruption in the various sectors of Government. He made Anas Aremeyaw Anas (a hidden identity journalist and investigator) his best
friend to uncover the secrets of corrupt government officials, this was a man who ruled with the constitution second to the Bible.
These machine heart men who are still in what I describe as perpetual mental slavery will not allow anything good in their own lands, why won't they eliminate you prof, to them all that matters is to serve he to whom they have sold their souls in exchange for wealth, fame and power at the
critical expense of their own people.

Until I close my heart I can't stop writing, this and many more in my heart I will vomit into a book that will subject every Ghanaian who has experienced this moment into the bondage of astonishment in some few years ahead, It is my sincerest prayer that you stay alive to have a copy of the book yet unborn "BURIED SECRETS'.

Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin

THE INTERVIEW SECRET DISCOVERED

Over time people have come out of the interview room with high spirits in
expectancy of the 'YES YOU ARE EMPLOYED" call but mostly it doesn't turn
out to be hurray but rather sorrryy. Just yesterday I found out the
secret to interview success.
The question of how much do you want to be paid has always been the source of failure for most job
seekers. Despite my few times experience of job interview, I can confidently say that the story below and the lesson deduced will be the ultimate remedy to cure your chains of failure.

A walk through a sunny afternoon down the street took me to a construction site where three stone quarry workers were in full day session. They were all seen sweating profusely under the harsh heat of the sun. As typical of me, I would hardly pass by without a greeting and short conversation,
so I greeted them 'edwumaa ooo' (Akan greeting for a working man) and their response was feeble enough to narrate their struggle. Following their faint reply was my usual faked grin.

The simple question I asked was that 'please what are you doing?'. The first man
said ' I am breaking down these hard stones' and I replied in the new language in town "like seriooouuusssllly", he nodded in affirmation and a face dressed in pains.
The second man quickly backed the first; 'yes ooo boss and the worst of it is that we are paid only ghc2 per day for this hard job' and I begun to cough out some sympathy.

The third man who had all through my conversation been working, didn't seem to have heard the question so he requested for the question again and I asked in rather reluctant voice 'what are you doing?' and he answered 'oh am helping to build a school for the community'. His answer filled
my head with some amount of amazement.
Right away in my consciousness, I answered the most threatening interview question from the third man's answer. The first man's intention was to make me realize the gravity or the hardness of the work,hoping that it will engineer the other to offer help out of sympathy. The second also weighed the job and the salary, which obviously means that he is much interested in the salary than the job. The third man did not only prove to me his love for the job but also sold to me his commitment to community and humanity, he was concerned with the serviceability of the structure to
the people.

Certainly if I had the chance to promote any one of these three men, I would be left with no other option than to select the third man. Most times when we are asked to state our expected salary in an interview, we should answer the question in the third man's eye. It can be put into a simple coat like "Excuse me sir, I applied for the job and is my belief that if I work harder to achieve the needs of the company, the board wouldn't have a problem paying me a satisfactory salary'. This answer will fill the heads of the panel with a song, this answer is all they need to employ you and keep an eye of
promotion on you.

This lesson works not for only job seekers but in all our fields of life. In anything doing just be mindful of the outcome but not the reward, reward and awards are accorded to
people who least anticipated them.

Written by: Oppong Clifford Benjamin 

THE BITTER TRUTH, hate or love it.

HIGH SCH GRADE:DETERMINANT OF YOUR UNIVERSITY PROGRAM,A MISHAP

Are you a dupe of the the title? Very bad, you are not to be blamed, routine life was your only problem which you couldn't say no to, perhaps because you dreaded what will be said of you if you had mastered courage to refuse acceptance of that program offered, because your results couldn't fetch the program of your choice.
My dear Primary Six Engineer,my sweet JHS Doctor, my best SHS pilot why are you now drinking some concoction of languages which I fear you might never travel to their spoken countries? Oh you the ten year old Politician, why are you now reading medicine,hearsaies has it that, it is the best
program, oh nice but why are you not the best in class, stop agitating?

Your Father was a teacher, you grew with the chalk and loved the board,steadily teaching found it way into your heart and you promised Dad, one day I would be like you, so why did you frown at the mention of training college? well don't tell me,I know it, it was because your results could carry you to KNUST and earn the title "tech girl or boy". A title which lasts for four years, or you would be repeating too in the university to hold the title for a decade, NA LIE. So with the help of your high school results you slapped your dream in the face and said NO to your most passionate name prefix (Dr., Hon., Eng., lawyer,..)

Your results had the veto power to change your nationality, I thought you were proud as a Ghanaian, why are you now learning and speaking Chinese, Korean and Swahili in University of Ghana,Legon. Now you are a stammerer and speak with uncertainty, pausing to check whether you are right, sorry you are all wrong and will forever be.
Now school is on long vacation, they are all going for their internships, you are in dispute with Mum for questioning your stay in the house whiles she queues for car every morning with your mates to work, please mum stop it, she weeps inside or she is confused,can't think of any company to fit in with all her gys (anthropology, psychology, doxology, legonology..just saying).

At the workplace, the Polytechnic Engineering student has no special tag to denigrate him from the university guys. Rather he distinguished himself with his practically inclined knowledge of the field. Now, tell me, were you wiser than him to have abandoned non-university education for the luxurious uni life, hell NO, it matters not in life after four years. So beautiful she walks in uniform of honour and respect, I guess she is now the most happy lady as a teacher or a nurse after following her long wished dream, after she stood against societal requirements and routine life, after she came to realization that peace and happiness are the direct results of feeding the heart desires.

In same view, the university student who also followed his dream and got admitted by his heart felt program rejoices. In fact he walks with the guys, learns with the ladies but his joy and inner peace are a step ahead theirs or frankly is in no comparison to theirs. Yes he is the true definition of a goal getter, studied hard in SHS, chased his dream to the university, he could do the medicines but he said I want to do this. Unlike the coins, he makes no noise when put among the rest, he is the note,more
valuable. Very noble in his character, when he meets non-university students, he humbles himself and learns from them whiles he shares with a friendly tone. We can leave the results determinant students to boss themselves around, whom are they deceiving, keep your pains in your chest room, with time we shall see it in your nose windows.

Exams week approaches and students kiss their beds good night for classrooms, what was designed by nature for rest is now the best of time for studies, try as much as they do,success keeps running away from them, why? because the trailing students had no word in their choice of program in the university, their enrollment was solely the works of their results. Tell me how you can define success without your goal.

Please my dear high school leavers, the six killer diseases are not any harmful than routine life. Do not let society dictate to you, just have a very pleasant time doing what you really want to become. After all the roads to a successful life are many for the wannabe. You can indeed be the nurse, doctor, pilot, teacher without your results, is just a matter of showing the red card to routine life and peer pressure. If it comes out that you had grade twenty and so you can't be admitted into the medical school in a university,don't worry much, it is not a whistle to the end line but a prompt to say, take other routes to becoming a doctor.
Thank you.

Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin