My Single Story Of Nigerians

MY SINGLE STORY OF NIGERIANS
( Malicious Defrauders Until the Poets Came.)

Just some few minutes ago a very good friend of mine in Florida, USA sent me a message about how she has been codded by a Nigerian guy. The guy who has always played the Mr. gentle and Saint game all these while has had his way into deceiving a struggling woman. He is a $500 rich fraudster.

The above story also reminded me of my past encounter with a man of same attitude. Some where in 2010 I was so desperate to study abroad, I started searching for universities in the USA and China, at a point in my search I clicked on a link which beeped "scholarship for African students, Study in USA and UK for FREE". This sweet link directed me to the blog of my supposed angel. It had a long form for scholarship and another for admission to any university of my choice, I hurried through the registration and just a day after an email of confirmation was received.

It was so positive that I thanked God for the come true of some dreams. About three days later another email was received in request of some credentials which included my Wassce results, my TOEFL, cover letters and transcripts. I went through all possible means to harvest these documents. The day I had my transcript I assured myself I was soon going to be an undergraduate student of North Carolina State University.

The process went on and on to the crucial point where payment was inevitable and I had gained the trust of the other person whom I never had known excerpt through emails and the fake website of the school. First it was the admission dues of $50. Which was quite insignificant. So I quickly paid into the account number given. Another email dropped affirming my payment and I was informed the School will review my admission forms. This message sent me into some serious daily prayers. I needed God to show me my admission letter even before the school sit to decide.

Just a month later, a very beautiful congratulatory message came dancing in my mail. I was admitted and the future had arrived. In the same message I was informed that there had been cases where students got the school's Visa Application letter and never really attended the school upon arrival in America so to confirm my seriousness I will be required to pay half of my school fees and the scholarship will take care of the other half and my accommodation expenses before the letter would be issued to the America Embassy in Ghana, of which a copy will be sent to me.

Who was I to doubt at that point where America seemed just a stone throw away from me. Again Man had to enter every hole, cave and sea to conjure some dollars from nowhere. The amount was paid and that ended the whole deal. The email address which I was communicating through stopped working, my own email address was blocked and the school website became non-existing url.

I stayed indoors for more than a month, and wept bitterly for been fooled. I told a friend who was so conversant with the internet and he screamed "OOOOOHHHHH CLIIFFFF YOU HAVE FALLEN PREY TO SOME INTERNET PREDATORS IN NIGERIAN"

I was particularly shocked when he showed me the same chain of messages I was receiving and some more. He went further to show me how to determine the IP address of an email to know the location of the sender and when we checked the IP of the email address it was Ojo, Nigeria.

There and then I pledged never ever to trust any Nigerian. Until recently I met the positive ones. The ones who brought the poetry side of me and even went further to call me a brother. Had it not been these Poets I still would have remained of the view that Nigerians are fraudsters and cannot be made friends. But am glad I went through this experience and it is my prayer that my friend also console herself and learn a lesson.

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How Much Is Life?

How much is Life?

I often have wondered how to die
That is, if it was the best option to cry
Wings if sold,would have buy to fly
I have seen tears descend on contoured faces
Life without a whistle has offered me many races
I run,swift and very Usain to be known the loser
I have many persons to blame,always a good accuser
Life itself is not worth me
God or god please let me be
or better deprive me of the chance to exist
If not so, then be calm whiles your commands I desist
Sometimes I wish I could shout to quiet all
Sometimes I wish I had no name or face at all
Sometimes I feel like stealing my life
With a gun,poison,suicide or simply a knife

My best shirt was someone's rags
My girl friend is someone's Ex
My prostitute friend was once a virgin
My account balance was someone's church offering

And when it stops for a minute
I think about things that are minute
And when it gets better for a minute I think about things that I really dont have to.

Tell me How much is Life, I will buy one for myself.

By Kweku Atta Crayon

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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

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The Cassava Too Is A Fruit

We lived and grew beneath the soil
Joyful in our minds that we toil
To someday come out us cassabreties
Signing autographs at festivities
Shoulders lifted up high
Teeth pushing out when saying 'hi'

It was morning, we heard harsh knocks
First time disturbed in our sweet underworld
The ants and termites say, “They can't be visitors”
True, they started hitting with rocks
We run deeper into the soil and curled
We have fallen prey to wild predators!

Uprooted us from our homes
Like it was their own
We had no say, first time seeing 'red and white monkeys'
Before we could fight for what was ours
The red pepper and tomatoes had long sold us
For mirror, cloths and gun powder

And they introduced themselves
“We here are from Overseas
Have come to explore and oversee
We are called the fruits
We make skin fresh and smooth
Our brethren in suits are legumes
They will be the masters in the checkrooms”

“Who are you black ones?”
No one sabi their question
So we started laughing
“Ok, You will be the cassava
You are starchy and strong
Will build ships in the sun
And cook the meals in the rains”

Exported us to the west
Used, maltreated and waste
Our joy is a cassava now rules the fruits
But, can a cassava be ever a fruit?

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Minutes with a Dead Friend

(By Kweku Atta Crayon )

I know its you coming, but must you keep blowing
all my papers away and shutting the door like you got issues with me. Look you got the curtains flying outside. Ok calm down man, I know why you here.

                   I know

February is here

Love
Love
Love

Is all that I hear

But I know what we knew

                             14th February, 2010
                             we drank, ate and you died


Am sorry I had to lie about the news

                          Truth be said, your family would have rued


And as St. Valentine comes with his love shit
Many will wear red and I too will wear a red fit
But unlike them, I mourn a friend


           Tonight I know Sandra will phone in
           And request a coffee date at that same inn
                           
                        I know you would like to pick your revenge
But hey, I got you covered on avenge

You see, since you walked on
She keeps saying, Cliff that was a mistake
I say fuck that, did you know Cris was gonna be a Hon.
And she got the nerves to scream back, that girl is snake

I was the Eve and you foolishly became the Adam
Man, forgive me, am pissed off

                                         But hey, anytime I try it
                                   I got my whole brain telling me NO
I know i was suppose to be a murderer in 2011, 2012 and 2013
You have my word Bro, 2014 won't be any timid
Am gonna pull that trigger, I ain't got limit
                                  Tonight you will meet Sandra in hell
                                   And though I will be a prisoner
                       I will rejoice because I served a brother well

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She Left with My Saturdays

 (By: Kweku Atta Crayon )

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

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CLASS 3 PRINTING FEE

He stood in a tired uniform
Well ironed and tucked
And his shorts fusiform
Today was exams day
and he couldn't wait to write

He walked to Mum in her room
for the usual morning blessings
But His Mum tried to tell him
that he probably should stay home
He bowed his head and she threw her eyes away
They both knew why, and why it was best to stay

But He knew what to say
To tell his teacher's cane
and his mates who might laugh again
Of why he will write but can't pay

His Mother knew this would be another day
when her second child will end education
And chase after life around the traffic light
She sensed the aroma of history
Repeating itself today and tried harder to keep him at home
But the little boy went to school
ready to tell all about why he will write but can't pay

They were many kids
All seated in arranged lines
and he saw the blank desk.
It was Obvious Kweku wouldn't come

One by one, the teacher
inspected their printing fee receipts
Some showed a full year, others for the term
And he sat there hoping to do magic

At last the teacher got to his desk
And every child was searching
With their faces covered with laughs
An old story, he will be thrown out again
And certain he knew today was a landmark

Show me your receipt, the T requested
If you don't have go home, a boy retorted
No printing fee, no paper, another dared to shout
And now, they all teased

"am sorry you will have to go home"
He stood up and looked backed
Opened his mouth as if to cry and again he shut
"Go on, do you have anything to say?", the T asked

In tears, he closed his eyes
Clapped both palms together
And like a humble prayer,he said

"I don't want to be like Kwabena, my elder brother
who lost his education on this same day
and whose daily bread is  now oven
by the red light on the street.

I don't want my mother to keep wishing for graduates
Yet cries to the truth that she couldn't afford one
I don't want any of my mates here
think am dumb without a chance to prove myself

Don't talk of my father, he is long resting
And heaven is far away from earth
He too had a task for me, become an engineer
Please Sir, Allow me education
One day we both won't regret.

This minute, you are deleting a future
This minute, you can create a destiny
This minute break the rules
To make an engineer, and Heaven will smile.
This is my humble plea"

He opened his eyes to his ultimate dismay
Every eye was already flooding
and the teacher apologized and promised him his help henceforth.

Her Mum, took the exams question
and asked; how did you do it?

Now he is a civil engineering student
An Award winning Poet.
and the author of this particular piece.

Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin. ( From "My Family and Money")

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FACTS OF LIFE ( A talk With Integrity Youth Club, Tamso,Tarkwa)

Friday Morning or true to say Friday dawn, the waking call came from UN Wygon Blazez (Our Chairman). And he wanted me to give a talk on our regular meeting which came off the following Saturday.

The proposed topic was 'FACTS OF LIFE'. I guess we know Life itself is a fact, come to think of the Facts of Fact. Well who was I to deny a duty, I did my best to gather ten facts which correlated with our deeds as a society of young men.
After a rather successful meeting,the chance was given for questions and our dear Chaplain John Ampah suggested that I post the whole talk here on our facebook page for the benefits of the absentees. So if you are reading this here, it is courtesy John.

1.It hurts to love someone and not be loved back, but it is most painful to love someone and never find the courage to let the person know your feelings.
You are not wrong to be thinking about the love that exists between a man and a woman, however it is the contrary here. Am talking about the love for our fellow brothers. It is a pity that society has taught us to only love the opposite sex but I tell you that, I have since 2006 enjoyed true love not from my lady friends but a male one. And It is an undeniable fact of Life that Love shown a brother births better rewards.

2. The Best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch swing with, never say a word and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.
In our noble fraternity, everyone is a friend but I live to confess that there is a friend indeed and a friend in need. A friend in need is a friend indeed. (NB: 'indeed' is ambiguous, and has been used interchangeably) That is the friend who will visit you in times of sorrowful challenges and will sit by you without verbalizing a word, yet you feel the love his presence brings.

3. The people that need you need in Life are the ones that need you in theirs.
Must you keep moving to a house you are not welcome just because you feel good in there, do you want to know what they say no sooner than you had left? "Doesn't he has a house,nkwasiasem". Yes they call you Kwasia because they need you not in their lives, take time, get to know the people that care and like you as you are, get closer to them regardless of their status and with them you will find the secrets of happiness.

4. When Life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show Life that you have a hundred reasons to smile.
In Integrity, most members are high school / technical school leavers and some are still home for whatever reason I deem worth the stay. It is a very challenging period to see some of your mates climbing the educational ladder whiles you sit at the same level. Well, let me in my own experience tell you that, it is far good or better you are there. Life is giving you a tear to cry but give life a smile to laugh because he who climbs late falls not like early, you will learn from the mistakes of hasty climbers. Mind you hasty climbers make a sudden fall. Never a teardrop, never a worried face and never your jaw in your palm, keep your head straight and up, smile and live whiles you beat Life at the game.

5. Always put yourself in the other's shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts them too.
Teasing has come to be a part of guys and so it is an attachable part of our association. However teasing can be very expensive and can break the unity and brotherly love that bonds us together. Therefore let us be advised that, before we pass what is suppose to be a comic comment, let us first put ourselves in the shoes of the person the comment goes to, if it hurts us then it hurts the person too, hence silence should be the remedy.

The remaining five will come later, am running out of online time

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YOU COULD PREVENT AN ALTERCATION

YOU COULD PREVENT AN ALTERCATION
(Cliff Human Relations Lesson 23)

The list is countless in truth, I have quarreled my roommate on innumerable cases. It ranged from his forgetfulness to leave the keys at the porters lodge to littering the room. Sometimes our quarrels result in two weeks or worse variances, we would not talk with each other and the room would turn into a cemetery or best to say we turn to temporal dumb and deaf.

Until one day I grew up and accepted the blames. I said Cliff you should know how to point out someone's mistakes.

During one of our silent days, I entered into our dirty and offensively malodorous room. My heart started swelling out of anger, I threw myself into my bed and warned my lips to stay zipped lest I cut my tongue off, and I calmed down till I could find wisdom drizzling on my tongue.

I could hear the door opened so I lifted my head to see who was entering, lo and behold it was him (my roomy). I could read from his eyes that he was ashamed to have again committed the same mistake I had spoken against several times.

Ben, I called out his name and he failed to respond, he knew what was next ( another hot quarrel, which we both never enjoyed). He answered upon a third call and I said, I am sorry I kept a stinking pair of shoes beneath my bed, I guess that has caused this ill-scent in the room. I was tired last night after school. " Oh Cliff, you think is the shoe, well I guess its the dirty bowls I have not washed since last week, I will do so right away". This time I was surprised to realize we both could be humans enough.

Ben washed the bowls and swept the room, I mopped up and we both worked happily and has since remained very cooperative roommates ever.
Never go hitting someone's mistake hard on his face, hoping to make a change. I tell you he will fight back.

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A LETTER OF DIRECTION

Do the spirits of our ancestors still hear our cries? Do they understand English? Do they have Facebook accounts or blogger? Have we lost the connection with the very people whose blood flow through us? Do they know that we walk on bituminous asphaltic roads and fly in the air like witches did in their time?
Sometimes I get a sentiment that our ancestors visit the land and they don’t seem to discover their root and their own blood children. They get lost in the walls, supermarkets and the busy streets. They go back to the grave and sleep again in total astonishment. Me,I want to see my grand mum again so I have written her a letter of direction.

A Direction to Nana

We are still here
Your voice we hankering to hear
Mum said we no more pray you
Must you keep drinking schnapps to rue?
Nana, things have changed ooo
The huts have lost their security
we not even safe in these heavy stones (blocks)
Where you left us, is now called the village
and nothing good gets down there
We too wanted to eat electricity,pipeborne water and good healthcare
Nana,next time when visiting,
Go to Asomdwe park, see ghost Atta Mills
He recently left, he must show you Accra

Nana, you will see this white house
When you hear a quarrel, good then you home
When you hear big English, it is that of the mayor
You will see a woman with a wrinkled face
Clearly defining poverty and hardship
You will see food served on the floor to be picked
Nana, then be sure you are home.
When you see a long convoy
dancing in wailing sirens
And lights all over
Nana wave too, is the president passing
Nana,look left, right and left again
To check that you safe
Before you enter, today we are followed.
Boys now kidnap everybody including ghosts too.
WELCOME HOME NANA.

Written By: Oppong Clifford Benjamin to his great grand mother Nana Nyamenakye)

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