Peacemaker

Still on that #KenikodjoMeetup hangover mehn!! I am writing a post just to tell you guys how it went but first, let me finish this short story that has been sitting in my drafts. As for those of you inboxing me with tear emojis and asking me when the next meetup is, I told you, didn’t I? My readers are too amazing for a meetup to be anything less than lit! 

Okay, enough gloating. On to the story! 

P.S: Shoutouts to Lamisi for hooking me up with the Northern day names. They are so beautiful!  (Asibi is the name for Saturday borns)

‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Nope. For the first time in a long time, I am pretty calm and grounded.’

‘No, Patrick, this can’t work. This has to be a mistake.’

Asibi avoided looking him in the eye.

He was pacing up and down, silently willing her to look at his face.

‘Asibi, I am not playing games with you.’

‘This is a mistake.’

‘No, I believe it is fate. God made this happen.’

‘Don’t drag the Lord into this.’

‘But he is the one who has a master plan. You are the one who told me that.’

‘For God’s sake, Patrick! Stop twisting my words.’

‘I am not. I am just showing you how this could be God’s plan.’

‘You think God’s plan is to make you date my childhood friend for 7 years and then decide to fall in love with me, 5 months to your wedding date?’

‘I think it is God’s plan to make sure I don’t marry the wrong person. Kelly is a great person-‘

‘Exactly. So stay with her. Or go somewhere else if you must. But forget me.’

‘Why?’

‘How can you even ask that? You came to me for help. You were having problems with my friend and you needed to know that you were not imagining things.’

‘Yes, and you helped me with that.’

‘Oh, I did huh?’

‘Asibi, I am not playing games with you. I am not some mean, hurtful person. I stayed in a committed relationship with your friend-‘

‘Say her name. She is not just ‘my friend’.’

‘Fine. I stayed in a committed relationship with Rachel for 7 good years. Never cheated. Never strayed. Never forgot an anniversary or a birthday. But when it is time to get married, you have questions. You wonder if you can actually deal with all the things that bother you that you have pushed under the carpet. I don’t have any sinister intentions, but every time we spoke, I became more and more aware that marrying Rachel was a mistake. And then I began to see you.’

‘Patrick, that’s what they call the Florence Nightingale effect. You fall in love with the person saving you, but it never works out. It never works, especially if the girl you are leaving is the childhood friend of the one you are chasing. We grew up together, our mothers are like siblings, I can tell what is on her mind from right across the room.’

‘And that is why I came to you. Because you know her and she is always talking about how smart you are. If there was anyone who could tell me that I wasn’t crazy and exaggerating the minors, it was definitely going to be you.’

‘And yet here we are. This is a mistake. This was a mistake. I have seen too many movies and heard so many stories like this. What business do you have falling in love with your fiancé’s childhood friend? That’s ‘

‘Who made it a crime?’

‘I don’t know. Society. E-e-everyone?’

‘Well, they were wrong. There is no rule that stops me from falling in love with you. You will be judged by gossips and meddlers, but their opinions don’t matter.’

‘Rachel’s opinion and those of every single person we have in common matter.’

‘Are you really going to sacrifice your happiness for what people would say? You are braver than that.’

‘You don’t know me, Patrick. You are assuming a lot.’

‘No, I am not assuming. I know you. I know that you like boiled plantains but not fried ones. I know you will pick out all the onions in your food before you start eating. I know you can’t sleep without your Amakye Dede playlist-‘

‘That’s cute- the fact that you listened when your wife to be was talking about me, but you don’t know me. The things you love about me, you used to love about the girl you were going to marry. The things that would irritate you about me, you haven’t discovered yet. So don’t do this. Don’t mistake me for your dream come true, your missing rib or the water that will quench your thirst. I am just a peacemaker.’

 

Don’t try to dismiss my feelings.

Room 1045 Ep09: Big Brother

Only God knows the mountains and valleys this story has had to cross to get to you guys. A thousand apologies to those of you who kept checking the website for an update. I was one of the people who was praying that January and then February would not end so soon because I had a few stories to tell that had not yet seen the light of day. Nonetheless, March is upon us and I trust that we will all make the most of it. Chapter 3 of 12 underway!!

MeetOh, and if you haven’t signed up for the meetup, what are you doing? 🤷🏾 Time no dey oo! I am excited about all the various things we will be getting up to. (And I can’t wait to meet all my silent readers!) If there is anything you think will make the meetup fun, please let me know. By the way, remember #8to5? Please send me an email (kenikodjo@gmail.com) or private message on Facebook, Twitter or IG if you are interested in signing up for the #8to5 photoshoot. I am particularly interested in seeing Edem, Dr Osam, Maku, Akwasi and our favourite footsoldier, Joseph. My inbox awaits!

Happy reading!

‘This is your favourite voice to listen to, Monday through to Sunday on 3rd Universe Radio, the only radio station that brings you all the juicy campus content and more! It’s DJ Sleek and the programme is still ‘I’ll keep your secret’, right here on 89.1 FM.  Send in your secrets and we will read them anonymously.  Don’t go anywhere.’

She turned in her chair and asked her producer the question she now asked every week.

‘Has the text come through?’

Every week, at the beginning of the show, they got a text from an anonymous person who always had some scandalous story about someone or something happening on campus. They had gotten tips on leaked examination questions, blackmail, rape allegations and scandals of all kinds. If there was a rumour flying around campus, Anonymous was more likely to give them the inside scoop. In many ways, it had made the show more interesting with every passing day.

Sometimes the secrets were so scandalous that even DJ Sleek wondered if she was not wading into dangerous waters by reading them out, because she herself was no stranger to rumours and fabricated stories. Big Brother’s texts always came with evidence- screenshots, audios, videos, recordings of phone conversations. It was almost like Big Brother had his own cameras set up everywhere on campus.

Ding.

‘Text just landed.’, her producer said, gesturing at the phone.

While MzVee’s Rewind played, they huddled around the phone to look at this week’s secret.

‘Senior staff love triangle: mother and daughter sleeping with a key senior staff. If the secret is fully revealed, it will turn this school upside down.’

This time, there was no evidence.

DJ Sleek read it anyway and on second thought added, ‘If you have any evidence, don’t hesitate to send it our way.’

‘Isn’t that Chukwu? And who is that girl?’

The roommates were seated on the short wall in front of the hostel, watching people come and go. Joan insisted that this was the best spot for the hall week celebrations. You could see anything and everything from that spot. She wasn’t lying.

They had seen the above school going age men who were parked in their air conditioned cars, waiting for the girls who didn’t mind being groped in the back seat of a car with way too loud music playing. They had seen the evangelists, clutching their Bibles and the A5 sized pamphlets to everyone in short skirts. They had also seen the entrepreneurs shun out their best ‘let’s make as much money from this as possible’ ideas. The food and music was flowing. So was the content for kokonsa.

Today was the first day of the hall week celebrations. Well, it was actually the 4th day, but nobody had been really interested in the motivational talk sessions, the book and career fair or the inter-hall sports competition. Today was the day that the food fair began. The musical show and the all night party would follow later that evening. The beach party was on Saturday and the gospel rock show was the last thing on the bill.

The girls followed Chukwu and the lady on his arm, with their eyes. He had clearly seen them and was bent on putting on a show to annoy Kesewa. He turned the girl towards him and started kissing her neck. She looked uncomfortable and tried to wiggle her way out of his grip. That was when they saw her face.

Kesewa gasped.

‘Marcia?’

‘Wait, who is Marcia?’

‘One of my friends. She told me time and again that Chukwu was bad news and that I should end it with him as soon as I could. I always thought she was looking out for me but as it turns out, she just wanted to occupy the girlfriend position.’

Sala reached out to restrain Joan from creating a scene.

‘Oh Sala, relax. I didn’t even think of moving.’

‘We know you.’

‘Don’t worry.  I wasn’t planning on going there. It is really her own funeral. She knows that he beats the women in his life and so if she has chosen to be with him, I am not going to waste time trying to save her. The only person I am worried about is Kess. You okay?’

‘Yep. I am Queen Kess, remember? I don’t spend time worrying about pigs when I can be readjusting my crown.’

‘Amen. I’ll drink to that.’, Joan said, raising her imaginary wine glass in the air.

‘I am worried about Stacy.’, Sala said absentmindedly as she shoved popcorn into her mouth.

‘Yeah, me too. We were just getting to know her.’

‘We were? She didn’t strike me as the open to sharing information type.’, Joan quipped.

Sala rolled her eyes.

‘You this! She did try to befriend me, maybe because I was on the bed above hers. Besides, you’ve been quite distracted lately. Everything okay?’

‘Things with Nii have been awkward since the Barima incident.’

‘I always knew you would scare him off.’, Kesewa said dryly.

‘I actually thought nothing I could ever do would scare him off.’, Joan said to herself quietly.

The banging on the door grew more and more intense.

‘What the-‘.

The rest of the sentence never made it out of Paapa’s mouth. He instantly wished that he had worn shorts instead of running to the door in his boxer shorts. The well endowed woman who was standing in front of him always gave him involuntary erections.

‘Adelaide, what are you doing here?’

She shook her head in disbelief.

‘You are really going to play games with me, aren’t you? You are actually feigning ignorance. You are a disgraceful man! Idiot! A mere prostitute!’

‘Adelaide, you are a married woman. Our on and off fling isn’t a full time relationship. What is the meaning of this?’

‘Paapa, I am not here to jump into your bed. I am here to demand an explanation. What kind of deranged man are you, to be warming your bed with both mother and daughter?’

For a few seconds, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

‘Come inside, please.’

‘Oh now, your manners have suddenly been activated.’, she scoffed as she made her way inside.

‘Adelaide, who else knows what you have just told me?’

She laughed. It was a long laugh, filled with malice and disdain.

‘Oh now you are afraid? Wait till my husband hears about this.’

‘Actually I’d love to let your husband hear about how you came into my office and seduced me. Sleeping with his daughter isn’t a crime. She is above 18 years and I have her consent. You, on the other hand, would have committed adultery. You will lose your husband’s trust and your coveted place among the ‘Rich Varsity Wives’, not to talk of your front seat at the Interdenominational Church. You want to risk all of that, just because you are jealous that your daughter is my lover?’

‘Lover? It is not an affair? Well, I hope you don’t plan on asking her to marry you. It would be a little weird to think of you as my son in law when I have seen you naked.’

‘Mothers have seen their sons naked. That is how the world works. I might just ask Ohemaa to marry me.’

‘Quit playing games. We have a real emergency on our hands.’

‘What’s the emergency?’

‘Someone knows about us, about you and I, and about you and Ohemaa. I overheard the administrative staff gossiping about that secrets show on 3rd Universe. Apparently someone sent in a text saying that a senior staff was sleeping with a mother and daughter at the same time.’

‘That’s it? So how do you know it is not someone else? Barging into my home because of an ambiguous text? It could be anyone at all.’

‘Oh save the condescending tone for someone else, Paapa. If there is nothing you know about me, you should know that I know how to do my research. How many of the male senior staff have a reputation for sleeping around?’

‘Err, all of them, except the chrife ones.’

‘Fair enough. How many female senior staff are mothers, have a daughter and are still good looking enough to have an affair?’

‘Well, that brings the list down to you and Mrs Ahwireng.’

‘Exactly! Mrs Ahwireng is definitely not having an affair. She is still mourning the loss of her husband and looking like she just turned 35 while she is at it. I didn’t even know there were these many ways of slaying in black and white. Anyway, I digress. So it had to be me. And the only person I have had an affair with on this campus is you.’

‘The ‘on this campus’ bit tells me I am not the only one.’

‘Oh of course not. After Gustav allowed himself to fall apart, I decided to take matters into my own hands, if you know what I mean. Just look at that potbelly and the triple chin. How am I supposed to enjoy sex with this man? I take care of myself and I do my best to look like I am not a day older than 40, even though 60 will soon be my portion. You are my favourite though, which is why I can’t forgive you for Ohemaa.’

Paapa sighed.

‘I am not apologizing for Ohemaa. We have a real connection. It is not business as usual with her. About this rumour, you are the one who has the most to lose, but I also can’t afford to lose Ohemaa so let’s come to a compromise. We’ll find this person and pay them off or something. Use your FBI deductive skills to solve this one, love.’

‘I will keep you posted.’

‘That’s the Adelaide I know!’

Shoot shoot shoot. How am I going to get out of this mess?

Stacy looked back down at her hands, thinking of a way out.

She had always enjoyed a good adventure. Her days in high school were full of warning letters, detention sessions, dismissals and every negative thing. It was the only way to get her parents’ attention. Her dad was a business man who made money from shipping cars to Ghana and selling them to people at ridiculous prices. Her mother was a heavy drinker who owned a beauty parlor in their community. Her parents hated each other. How else could she explain why they could never have a civilized conversation without tearing at each other’s throats? Even in her principal’s office, they had to make a scene.

‘If you ever had time to actually spend time with her, she would not be this messed up!’

‘Well, if you could quit drinking and gossiping, you would have enough time to notice the wrongdoing before it even happens!’

‘Don’t you get started with me? I drink to survive being married to a useless man like you, Koku!’

‘I didn’t promise to be useful when we got married, but then again you didn’t promise to be overweight and yet here we are!’

When her dad died suddenly from a stroke, her mother acted as though she was the only person who had a loss to mourn. She drowned herself in the drinking and neglected her business for about 5 months.

‘I am sending you to Ghana. I can’t predict what trouble you are going to get into this time around. You will go to university there. Hopefully, you will learn some common sense.’

Of course, Stacy’s modus operandi was to act as if she didn’t really care what her mother decided, so she shrugged and said, ‘Whatever mehn..’

Ghana wasn’t so bad. It was just very hot, so she never wore anything longer than Serena Williams’ tennis skirt. It didn’t take too long for her to find a group of people she could identify with. Lexus and the others were cool guys and she felt comfortable around them. She didn’t really seem to connect with her roommates, but Sala, the one who wanted to be a doctor, seemed very warm.

‘Young lady!’

‘Sir?’

‘I asked you a question. Who and who were at the party? Cocaine possession is against the rules of this school. If you continue to shield the rest, you will be dismissed and no university will take you in for the next 5 years, not with a criminal record.’

‘Criminal record?’

‘You think this is a joke eh? You people come from overseas and take everything for granted. If the laws in this country don’t work, I will have you know that the rules in this school do. Now, I will ask again who was at the party?’

‘I-I- don’t remember anything. All I remember is waking up.’

‘Don’t play games with me.’

‘I am not lying!’

See you next week (and on Friday at the meetup!)

Love me fiercely: The Men’s Version

My good friend Mandela wrote the male version of Love me fiercely and even though I am not a guy, I suspect that he has hit the nail on the head. (Guys, am I right?) We have the most random of conversations based on his whatsapp status and he just seemed like the right person for the job. Thanks for indulging me on such short notice, Mandela. Ladies, here is to knowing the men we love a bit more. And happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Love me fiercely.

Free me in Love.

Don’t ask me what I will eat. Anything you give me is good food. Serve me waakye instead of jollof, even though you know that I can eat jollof 6 times a day so that I can try something new.

Tuck a bottle of Sobolo (the one with lots of ginger) in my lunch pack so I can shout out in joy when I discover it like a hidden treasure during lunch. Feed me bits of vegetables and smoked fish while you cook. Ask me to taste and rate your cooking, knowing that my ego is boosted when you seek my validation and make me feel relevant.

Call me to change the light bulb or help you prepare a presentation. I know you are a strong woman who can take care of anything but you need to understand that the most fulfilling relationship for a man is one in that reaffirms his leadership and masculinity.

When you get the chance to speak to a group of people, don’t forget to appreciate my support. As a black African man, I am not appreciated enough for my support in my woman’s life. You know I love the attention

Welcome me with a hug and a smile, with an I-miss-you kiss every single time I come home as if I was gone without hopes of ever returning from war front. Don’t get too comfortable with showing how happy you are when you see me.

Be my biggest fan and not be too proud to show it. Chant my name and be the cheerleader of “team me” when I compete with the guys, when we play FIFA at home. Don my replica Blackstars jersey to “watch” an EPL  game  with me, even though you never understand the offside rule and think the yellow card means get ready to kick while the red signifies a stop in play. I know you may give all the attention your phone or make me explain the offside rule a hundred times before the end of the  first half. Or you may  silently doze off  while pretending to follow game. Watch with me anyways.

Don’t assume that I have mastered the colour combination lessons you gave me three days ago. Pick out my clothes for different occasions because left to me, I would wear my Arsenal jersey to Caroline, my work colleague’s traditional wedding ceremony. I am helpless and hopeless in the area of fashion without your direction. I don’t feel that way because you are here. I love the swimming trunks you picked out for me because it has an interesting colour which I don’t know. I can see blue, red, white and black but I can’t identify purple to save my life.

Let me know that I am in shape. I don’t care about being handsome because you chose me out of the many. I can live with a fat belly but I know how much you dislike men with one. Let me know you see the gains and it appeals to your sense of desire. Take my head on your laps and run your finger over my brows. Most times, I really can’t believe you think they are the most attractive feature on me. Convince me every day that I still have what you find attractive. Aside the affirmation, your touch feels good and I look forward to watching the “boring” soap opera with you  on Thursday night  so I can have my head on your laps.

Yes! I am supposed to be the man who expresses little or no mushy emotions as society expects of every man. “Man no dey catch feelings” but I want to be able to let my guard down and be emotional when I am with you. Make it easy for me to tell you who “took my candy” at work or how hurt I was when my supervisor “blasted” me or how downhearted I am that the business proposal did not go through. All I am asking is for you to be my escape from the battlefield of life.

Look good for me. You don’t have to wait till you have to go out to look good. It’s true you look amazing without trying. It’s true when you are busy or working out in sweat, looking all serious and focused is the time your appeal to me to swells, but Queen, I love it when you dress up in a pair of  butt-shorts and tank top with your natural 4C hair held in two side buns, giving your royal forehead prominence.  Whenever you do this I believe in my heart I got a glimpse of paradise. Look good always and everywhere even at home.

Be my peace. The pressures to be a man in this world double when you come from Ghana. Remind me that I am enough. Allow me to be a 3 year old boy, a 17 year old teenager and a 30 year old man all at once. Let me trust you with all these sides of me. Sometimes I just want to be alone, or with my guys.  Please understand that it has nothing to do with my love for you. That solitude helps to keep me sane.

I am just a man who knows little about matters of emotion and the heart .

Take me as I am.

You found my confusion and lack of knowledge in expressing my emotions very cute. You were impressed that I tried, clumsily, to tell you of my emotions for you. I tried because you made it feel safe. Your maternal instincts go into overdrive when it comes to me. It is those things that you do instinctively that made me stay.

Love me.

Love me fiercely.

Love me boldly.

Love me extravagantly.

And patiently teach me how you love.

 

Room 1045 Ep08: Dean of Students

I am still smiling to myself with pride for sneaking Capital High’s K Beck into #Room1045. I love love love the reactions of the K Beck lovers. He is still the most popular Kenikodjo guy (or is it Prosper?) ever! How is your 2018 treating you so far? Well, I hope! Let’s reach those goals and targets, shall we? Have a blessed week, guys! I have had phone problems for the last two weeks, so I can’t do a WhatsApp broadcast just yet. Apologies 😥 

The Kenikodjo meetup 2.0 is finally happening in March. (Sorry guys, I tried to push for January but this was out of my hands). Designed this poster myself- I am super proud of it. I really can’t wait to see you guys! And this one will be so much more fun than the last one was. There will be karaoke (who can sing Despacito? 😂), games, photos, nibbles and surprises! You have to be there! Register here!  More details soon! Already excited just thinking about it. 🙂 

Meetup 2018 (1)

Now to this week’s story!

‘Is it me or this office keeps getting smaller?’

He wasn’t sure whether or not to answer. These days, he kept getting this nagging feeling that he was being recorded.

It made him paranoid most of the time.

Well, he liked to call it being careful.

A dean of students should not be caught having an affair with his former teaching assistant, especially when she happened to be the daughter of the Vice- Chancellor. 

Key phrase was ‘should not be caught’. That was all he was trying to do- to not get caught.

‘Paapa, when a beautiful woman is sitting on your office desk half naked, you don’t zone out and think about the 1000 different ways her father is going to kill you when he discovers that you have been sleeping with his precious innocent virgin of a daughter.’

‘1000 ways? I didn’t think your father was this creative.’

‘Vengeance brings out the creativity in a man. Now stop zoning out. Focus on the now. Focus on the half naked girl. Can you do that?’

‘Mit gerne*.’

‘Yes baby! I love it when you speak German.’

Paapa smiled and took off his trousers. He skillfully unhooked her brassiere with his left hand and cleared his desk with the right hand. Before he leaned in to kiss Ohemaa, his eyes fell on the back of his desk sign. He knew what the inscription on the front said: Dr Paapa Nsiah Ankama, Dean of Students.

He was the youngest person to hold the position. When he was appointed, a lot of the other senior members had complained.

He is too young.

This boy is not mature enough to handle these manipulative students.

It must have been his father who pulled the strings. 

The small girls are going to throw themselves at him.

And they were right. Especially about the last one.

He was only 37 with the face of a 26 year old. His father was very good friends with Chairman of the University Council. In fact their children had been raised together. It was easy to convince him to nominate Paapa as Dean of Students. Of course, with a very generous donation to some charity foundation that the Chairman had set up for his social initiatives.  After that, all Paapa had to was to show up at university events and have lighthearted intelligent conversations with the senior members and subtly flirt with their wives. Not too much for it to raise eyebrows, but just enough for him to snag the position very easily. His ‘contenders’ didn’t see it coming. University politics could be nasty or a lot of fun, depending on whose side you were on.

The girls came in every shape, size and form. Even the married women hit on him. There was a day when one of the girls in the class he was teaching attached a video of her stripping to her terminal assignment.

She got an A, of course- for gut and thinking outside the box. Those and a nice body got her the marks she needed so that she would not fail the course. Her assignment had many problems and her citations were not well done. It made sense to initiate Plan B, and surprise surprise, it saved the day.

With Ohemaa, it was nothing like that. She never flirted with him and he never hit on her. She was the daughter of the Vice Chancellor- you had to have a death wish to do something like that. She was also the lead soprano singer in the university choir when she was a student. Her O Holy Night solo at the University Carols Service was talked about for the longest time. They got along well, as well as a lecturer and his teaching assistant could.

They worked amicably together for about two months until she broke the ice.

‘You are wearing it wrong.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your bowtie. You are wearing it wrong.’

He was getting ready to go for another networking cocktail and he had decided to dress up in his office. Ohemaa was sitting there, grading the objective tests the students in his class had written earlier that day.

‘My dad taught me how to tie these things and you look like you could use some help so let me do it.’

‘Okay sure.’

When she was fixing the tie, he noticed several things about her- things he had not allowed himself to notice simply because of who her father was.

Their eyes met and she took off the bowtie that she had just fixed for him.

‘Barima, you are going to have to leave right this minute.’

‘No, he is going to have to face me like a man. You left me for a boy? Come on, Joan!’

‘I don’t know how you saw this playing out when you decided to come here, but it won’t end with you leaving with the girl. Get a grip of yourself.’

‘She left me, Joan. She left me two weeks after that conversation she had with you. She is gone with the kids.’

‘That’s not my prob-‘

Nii Okai nudged her so she shut up. It was his turn to speak.

‘Respectfully Sir, you are making a scene. It just takes one person to call campus security and this could go south really fast. I am sorry to hear about your family but I will have to ask you to leave Joan alone. This can end with every party walking away respectfully. It could also end badly. Who wants that?’

‘I do! It is already ending badly.’

‘Have you tried speaking to your wife?’

‘Don’t you dare give me marital advice? You don’t even know the girl you claim you are in love with. You don’t know the things she has done, the things she has made me do to her.’

Barima’s lips curled into a sinister smile.

‘She hasn’t told you how she likes it. Let me tell you what she does just before she has an orgasm. She wraps her legs around your waist and-‘

Nii Okai’s fists found their way to Barima’s face.

It was Joan’s ‘Nii, please stop. He is not worth it.’ that stopped him.

God forgive me. Two sins in one night – first kissing Joan, now letting my anger get the better of me.

Joan’s plea was more insistent.

‘Barima, please leave, I can’t do this right now.’

‘I will be back with a letter from my lawyers. This is battery.’

‘Barima, stop it.’

‘Too late, Joan. You started this with me and we will end it together.’

When Barima finally left, Nii Okai followed shortly afterwards.

He needed air was the excuse he mumbled.

But Joan knew better. The Barima episode had him spooked.

Chris hung up and sighed.

Are you going to keep taking care of people’s children?

It was his wife, Grace. She hadn’t called him on her own or been to visit him ever since he moved to school. It was the kids who called him on weekends when he wasn’t home. And yet today out of the blue, she had called him and asked him to come home because she had missed him.

Even her joke about their marital bed not getting enough cardio workouts felt forced.

I can’t continue like this.

He shook his head and looked back at his books. The Sports Psychology elective he had chosen was a clear case of matricki wo. He had thought that they would be discussing Messi’s winning strategy and the effect that games like Fantasy League had on the real time performance of the players. He was so wrong. It was nothing like that. It was pamphlets and fat books that said nothing about Messi or Fantasy League. Who cared about psychosomatic disorders?

PK barged into the room. He was barely here- he was either on the football field praying or scramming the Stats figures into his head.

‘Chale, someone has jumped from the fourth floor oo. Suicide sane. Only problem is he didn’t die. I think his leg is broken. He is yelling in pain. They say he was having a weed party in his room at 10 am in the morning. So this one, what is he going to tell his parents?’

Chris jumped into policeman mode immediately. He grabbed his badge from his locker and headed outside. A crowd had gathered around the boy. They were recording every bit of it on their phones (Snapchat reporters 🙄) but keeping a respectable distance from him because of the moaning and the blood. It was everywhere.

‘Where did he fall from? Someone call 193. The hospital will come with an ambulance.’

He raced up the stairs to the room he fell from. The door was still ajar- it seemed most of the people had left when the guy fell. He knocked and entered anyway. He walked to the balcony and looked down. The paramedics were moving him onto a stretcher. Some of the people had started leaving because the main source of attraction was no longer there.

Chris looked round the room. He could see what looked like cocaine on one of the tables. There were empty vodka bottles on the floor. It looked like something was moving in the top bunk bed on the right. He climbed up and yanked the white duvet off the bed.

It was Stacy. The new girl in Room 1045.

She looked confused. Her hair was all over her face and the velvet shorts she was wearing hid almost nothing. She instinctively grabbed the crucifix that was at the end of the chain she wore everywhere.

‘Don’t scream. It is me, Chris. Policeman from next door. What are you doing here? How long have you been here?’

She still looked confused.

‘Are you high?’

Stacy started laughing. When she spoke, her speech was slurred.

‘Is that a trick question? Yes I am high. I am so high that I can see Jesus and his angels. Did you know that Jesus has a mohawk? And a nose ring! I was like ‘Yo! You deceived us by telling us that it was wrong and yet you are doing same.’I should tell my mother about that next time she tries to give me a lecture about my life choices.’

Chris looked at her face more intently. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hands were twitching.

‘Where am I? Who are you? What is going on?’

‘Get off the bed and wash your face. I will explain. You also have some questions to answer. Something happened to the boy who lives in this room. Who was here with you?’

‘Lexus? Nothing is wrong with him. He said he was going to take a swim. He left us here at the party. Wait, where is everyone? Am I in trouble?’

See you next week! 

*mit gerne– with pleasure (German)

Room 1045 Ep07: Not a hint!

Can’t believe the holidays are over! You know how much I love Christmas!!! ‘Tis the season to remember how God came to this earth and dwelt amongst us as a baby; it is also the season to eat, make merry and spend time with the people we love. Hope you did all 4! Writing during the Christmas holidays sucks! 😩 Everybody is chilling and you are sitting behind your PC, punching keys. No be easy 😓. Last time we were here, Queen Kess was slaying on all fronts. This week, it is Nii Okai who’s in the spotlight. Happy new year, guys! Too much love from this girl!❤️️

P.S: Shout outs to all the silent readers I met at Joyful Way’s Explosion of Joy. Thanks for breaking the silence and saying hi. 

P.P.S: I did something that I have wanted to do for a while- import characters from other series that we have come to love. This time it’s our beloved K Beck of Capital High fame. Enjoy! 

The woman’s voice was becoming dimmer and dimmer. It had become an art- this ability to drown out the voice of whoever was lecturing and think about Joan. It was more rampant on days when he had classes that Joan hadn’t signed up for. He had really come to love the girl. They were always together- in his room or hers, or at a church event, or in the study room. The thing was when he was with her, he was fixated on her- the way she squinted when she could not see anything on the board, the way her baby hairs clung to her forehead when she was sweating, the way she made faces when she was hungry or sleepy or sad. He had even started hearing her custom message tone in his mind’s ear; he would jump up and pick his phone only to realize that he was just imagining things. When he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her.

‘Herh Nii Okai!’

Dennis’ voice brought Nii Okai back to reality.

‘Ah! Is everything alright up there? I should call your mother and tell her that her hard earned money is going down the drain. How can you come to class and daydream the entire time? She take you do for boys eh? What is this? Or you have started sleeping with her?’

Nii pursed his lips and used his torso to lean his chair back slightly.

‘Ei guy! You change oo! This is not the Nii I know.’

‘Why are you guys always overreacting? I know that you guys don’t like Joan. You have never even taken the time to know her but you all have your own theories about why I should not be with this girl. First Esenam, now you.’

Esenam’s complaint was more emotional.

‘Nii, I need to tell you something.’

She looked like she was about to cry. They were walking back to their hostel from a prayer meeting.

‘Is everything okay?’

He stopped and gestured for her to sit on a bench.

‘What’s wrong with me?’

Wait, what? Is this supposed to be a trick question? Geez girls!

‘I am not sure I understand, Es.’

‘This is what I mean. You have pet names for me. You do nice things for me. Everybody at church knows I have always liked you, everyone except you. As if you being oblivious to how I feel isn’t enough, you had to end up with that girl. Jesus forgive me, but everybody is wondering what you see in her. I was right there in front of you but you didn’t see me. The person you chose to see is nothing like the girl we’d expect you to end up with. What is wrong with me? Why wasn’t I good enough?’

Nii Okai was dumbfounded. Her tears were getting louder and everyone who passed by them looked back with concern. He shifted uncomfortably- he really didn’t need the extra attention.

‘Es. I mean, Esenam. I asked you out a month after school began. You told me that you were not ready for a relationship and that you even prefer older men. What exactly were you expecting from me after that?’

‘To try again. I didn’t really know the type of guy you were but once I got to know you, it didn’t matter how old you were. I wanted to be in your life.’

‘And I was supposed to read this from your actions? I read from your actions the first time I asked you out and I read wrong. Why would I do that again?’

She didn’t say anything in response.

‘So you say you saw her in a dream? How do you know that it wasn’t a trap from the devil?’

‘Wow, Esenam, the devil? That’s where we have gotten to?’

K Beck was right. Girls are weird sometimes, throwing mixed signals left, right, centre. I remember when he told me about that Akpene girl. One moment, you are head over heels in love with him, next moment you just vanish without a word. Wait till I tell him this!

Nii Okai had met K Beck on the first day of school. He was sitting on the short wall in front of the hostel. It was when Nii Okai met Joan that he realized that there were levels to this accomodation thing. Joan had three roommates in a room that was three times the size of his room. They had a very spacious balcony, a kitchenette and a bathroom all in the room. All they needed was a maid servant on call 24/7 for the luxurious life to be complete.

This was like 5-star hotel Kempinski compared to the matchbox of a room he and his seven roommates lived in. Yes, seven, if you were not counting the guys who came to bath and eat every day but weren’t neccessarily assigned that room number. And yes, even though there were only four beds- three actually. The fourth one was broken and had become the holding area for the suitcases and jute bags. K Beck shared a bunk bed with him- they were the first two to arrive in the room.

Their friendship had been mutually beneficial- from the first day he said, ‘Yo! Kwamena Welbeck here but everyone calls me K Beck.’ They discovered that the best time to take a bath in the communal bathroom on their floor was right after the cleaners were done cleaning at dawn. The best way to eat to one’s satisfaction was to eat at the vendor’s shop. In the room, 6 other hands would appear from nowhere and eat with you till the very last morsel. There were also budget friendly meals that K Beck could whip up.

Gari is your friend– that was K Beck’s favourite go to saying when it came to food.

He was always asking for extra gari whenever they bought beans. He had an olonka’s worth of gari in his suitcase and he made a different gari dish everyday.

Gari with milo.

Gari with strawberry Cowbell.

Gari with shito and sardines and sardine oil.

Gari soakings.

Gari with shito plus Indomie and eggs from Sister Akosua.

K Beck was the best guy to teach Nii the ropes. He had elder brothers who had been through the school already so he had all the insider information one needed for these things. He also had a way with women- Sister Akosua, Mamaga (the beans seller), Grace (the cleaner who worked on their floor), Auntie Patricia (the very unfriendly porter who still managed a smile just for K Beck’s raps), literally every girl on the floor, etc.

‘Auntie Pat, you look gorgeous today. Did your husband see you before you left?’

‘Sister Akosua,  menkoa med), K Beck special baako wai.’ (Yes, he had invented his own Indomie combination and she made it for only him)

‘Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound!’

And it worked every time. It was only Mamaga that he did not flirt with. He called her Mama and he always said that she reminded him of Akpene, the girl he was in love with, back in Capital High.

Mamaga also treated him like her son. The boys always got extra zomi and plantain when they went to get their Wednesday morning beans. She gave them water as well. Ice cold. She was always telling them to get serious with their books and come and marry one of her daughters so that she could continue feeding them with her zomi goodness. K Beck always said this- I am already in love with one of your daughters. You just haven’t met her yet.

K Beck needs to hear this Esenam story mehn!

They were lying on her bed.

This was one of the rare days when they were alone. Sala was at a study group meeting. Kesewa had gone away for the weekend to be part of her cousin’s bridal party. Enyonam/Stacy the newbie had left early in the morning and nobody knew where she was headed and when she was coming back.

They were watching a movie and Nii Okai was absentmindedly playing with her hair. He told her about what happened with Esenam and in classic Joan style, she threw her head back and laughed.

‘I told you she liked you, didn’t I?’

‘You sound like K Beck.’

‘Oh my goodness! What did he say? It is bound to be funny.’

‘Yeah he is a funny guy.’

‘I like him. I wish I could get along with Derrick as well as I do with K Beck.’

‘Hey, look at me. I care about my friend’s opinions but he doesn’t get the final say. It’s me and you, no matter what.’

That was when she kissed him.

They had never kissed before. Nii had fantasized about it a number of times but he could always hear the prayer secretary Peter’s voice in his mind’s ear.

But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people.

It was easy to remember right after the prayer meeting or after the monthly Boys Boys meetups. It was a little more difficult to remember when your girlfriend was as fine and sexy as Joan. It was even more difficult to remember when you were lying in her bed and she was wearing shorts and a tank top.

Five minutes later, they weren’t just kissing. Their hands were flying in all sorts of directions and their breathing had gotten heavier. They didn’t hear the knocks the first three times.

The fourth time, it was a little more intense.

They stopped kissing abruptly.

Nii Okai looked at the bulge in his trousers and wondered whether to stay in the bed or to sit on a chair. He chose to sit on the chair.

Joan slid off the bed and opened the door.

‘Barima? What are you doing here?’

‘Where is he?’

‘Where is who? Don’t lie to me. I heard you guys in there.’

‘Barima, you are drunk and you are making a scene.’

At this point, Nii Okai wanted to see who it was.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Yes there is. Come out here and face me like a man before you can lay your hands on my woman.’

‘Barima, I am not your woman.’

 

See you next week! Btw, this is my year of ‘shoot your shot’, aka Go for what you have always wanted to do. You are welcome to join me. I plan to host a blogging workshop for those of you who have always wanted to start a blog. Stay tuned to our social media pages for more on that. Also, more information about our meetup coming up real soon. Stay blessed! 

 

 

 

#7daysofXmas 4 : Welcome Starter Pack

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, guys! (depending on when this gets published) This is the 4th in the 7 days of Christmas series. Today’s Christmas short story features Akwasi Prempeh’s return to Ghana after 5 years of absence. I enjoyed writing it- I hope you enjoy reading it. 

The phone vibrated a number of times before Kwame Ofori felt it. He had deliberately asked his tailor for deep pockets- on days like this, it felt like a mistake. He pulled the phone out and looked back at the entrance of the arrival hall. Still nothing.

Why is this guy calling me if he is not yet here? Chale, I am not in the mood for this oo. It is late and I haven’t eaten. 

The phone rang again.

‘Yo! You catch?’

‘Yeah, just found my luggage. Just wanted to make sure that you would capture my arrival on Snapchat. I need to update my fans on my travels. You know it’s a new generation distin-‘

‘First of all, you know I am not on Snapchat. Secondly, who are your fans? Your 293 followers on Twitter? This guy paa?’

‘295 please. Just take a video and stop hating. I am almost out. Get your camera ready.’

45 seconds later, Akwasi came out with his right hand in the air. He had that same old cheeky grin on his face. They did the half hug and handshake thing Ghanaian men do when they meet, because God forbid that they should give full hugs and be given weird looks by bystanders.

‘Akwasi, why you fool like that? Video to document your arrival? What kinda self-centered life this?’

‘See, the fact that you are not on Snapchat doesn’t make you the moral standard. Besides, I am home! Akwasi Prempeh the one and only is back to the motherland.’

‘This guy! Who do you think you are koraa?’

‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Akwasi Prempeh, royalty by long distance. Your favourite celebrity’s crush, your baby daddy’s competition, your sugar mummy’s goals. And I am back home after 5 good years! You no talk Akwaaba sef!’

Kwame kept laughing. His friend had clearly not lost his sense of humour even after so long.

‘Guy, the fact that Yvonne Nelson smiled in your direction at that party a whole five years ago doesn’t mean-‘

‘I’ll just stop you there. No negative vibes. Please. Eat your house matters.’

Just before they sat in the car, Akwasi took a selfie and captioned it ‘Location Accra’.

‘Guy, what’s new? What is happening in Ghana?’

‘New president, Big Shaq is in Ghana, Yvonne Nelson had a baby-‘

Akwasi reached out to lower the volume of the song that was booming out of Kwame’s car.

‘Yvonne did what?’

‘Why, did you come to Ghana with plans of making her fall in love with you?’

‘Yeah bruv, I even have the perfect song to serenade her with.’

Mimicking a stage performance, he tipped over his imaginary microphone stand and started singing Adele’s Make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

‘Hahaha, oh wow! You really came.’

I know you
Haven’t made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong

‘Ei Barima, we get the point. Save your singing skills for karaoke night.’

‘You guys have karaoke in Ghana?’

‘Don’t let me insult you.’

‘Abi we are all playing?’

‘Leave my country out of the games.’

After ten minutes of silence, Akwasi hit the dashboard dramatically.

‘Chale stop the car. Stop the car. I have just seen roasted plantain and coconut all in one place. The universe is giving me the welcome fit for a king.’

‘Kings eat roasted plantain? Akwasi Prempeh paaa, you think we are acting a Ghallywood movie eh?’

‘Well, now that food is out of the way, tell me about the women. I have been seeing some really fine babes on IG and Snapchat. Is it me or the girls have become finer in the last five years? Chale back and front nyinaa, nice proportions. I have high expectations. Accra, blow my mind please!’

‘You plan to serenade them too?’

Akwasi didn’t get the chance to react to that because Kwame’s phone rang.

‘Hey babe. Yes, it went well. You were right, as always. Okay sure. Cool. I love you too. Bye!’

‘Ei Guy! You are in love? And you failed to mention that?’

’You asked about Ghana, not about me.’

‘Fair enough. Who is she? How long have you been together? When do I get to meet her?’

‘You already know her. I don’t think she wants to be in the same space with you. It’s Adjoa.’

‘Adjoa? My Adjoa?’

‘You mean the Adjoa you broke up with and abandoned two weeks before moving in with your new girlfriend?’

‘I mean the Adjoa that I love more than anyone else on earth and came back to Accra to woo.’

‘See, you are fighting a lost cause. Adjoa and I have been together for the last year and half. No be whirlwind romance matter.’

‘Then why has she been sexting me for the last 3 months?’

Kwame slammed his brakes.

‘Listen, if you know you are just coming to spew untruths just to break us up, I am going to put friendship aside and throw you out of this car right now.’

‘Oh, on the real though, I didn’t know you were dating. And no, I am not joking about the sexts. She wears waist beads, right? Colours of the rainbow. I only know this because of the pictures. I make sorry waaa!’

‘Get out of my car.’

‘Oh! But what did I do? Shouldn’t you be upset with her and not me?’

‘I said, get out. Don’t let me say it twice.’

‘How am I supposed to get home?’

‘Ask Adjoa and her waist beads.’

‘So lemme get this straight. You hook up with my ex-girlfriend and I am not upset, but you are upset that my ex-girlfriend who didn’t tell me she was your girlfriend has been flirting with me? Cool story.’, Akwasi said as he tried to open the door.

Kwame stared ahead in silence.

‘Okay, cool. This isn’t how I envisaged my holidays going at all. Going to be in Accra until 2nd week of January. If you change your mind about being hostile, call me.’

Kwame continued to ignore him.

‘So much for Ghanaian hospitality.’

He got down and pulled his suitcases out of Kwame’s boot.

Five minutes later, the car speeding past him ran over a half empty sachet of water, which slashed water over his trousers. After shouting some choice words in the car’s direction, he leaned against the

 

For the first time, he noticed how empty the streets were.

Two suitcases, a backpack and a guy with an uptee vibe.

Recipe for robbery.

Welcome to Accra starter pack ankasa.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the wine Toyota Yaris when it slowed down.

‘Hey, you look stranded. Everything okay?’

I can’t believe my eyes. Am I looking at Yvonne Nelson? No, it can’t be her.

‘Erm, yes. Just trying to get home. First night back in Accra.’

Akwasi, you are a fool. What if she is an armed robber? Just talking by heart because you have seen fine girl. Who asked you anything?

‘Hop in. I will drop you somewhere. Heading to a party and I am a little early so I have time. I am Rachael.’

‘My name is Akwasi. Akwasi Prempeh.’

‘Welcome home, Akwasi.’

‘If you don’t mind my asking, do you have a boyfriend or ex-boyfriend that is a friend of mine?’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Never mind.’

 

 

 

 

 

Room 1045 Ep06: Queen Kess

Wednesday is upon us once again! You guys make me feel like President Mahama must have felt after losing the elections. I wrote the longest episode and almost everyone said it was short. I was like 😲. I count words and effort, you count the feeling. As for those fighting with me for the way Episode 5 ended, experience should have shown you that cliffhangers are my guilty pleasure. Be like Isabeldee! See the ‘see you next week’ coming. 😉 Christmas is almost upon us, hence the snow on the blog. (Yes I know it doesn’t snow in Ghana but WordPress doesn’t include lights or goat jollof in their themes so we will have to work with snow). I hear those using phones can’t see the snow- please let know if this is correct.

Happy reading and Merry Christmas in advance! I love you guys!! Also, shout outs to CPR, just because he is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G! ❤️❤️️️

‘Sala!’

‘Sala!’

‘Kess, call the boys next door. We need to get her to the University Hospital.’

It was when Joan threw the pillow to hit Kesewa. She hit the space bar, pausing the movie she was watching, ready to rain fire, brimstone and some more on her least favourite roommate. That was when she saw that Joan had jumped off her top bunk bed and was holding Sala. She looked like she could not breathe.

Ei God! Don’t let anything happen to her. 

Joan’s voice pierced her thoughts.

‘Kesewa, I need help here.’

Kess jumped into action mode. Forgetting that her morning gown was short and clung to her body, she dashed out to call the boys next door for help.

‘Bryan! Chris! Yooku! PK! We need help.’

PK opened the door, with a quizzical look on his face. When his eyes fell on Kesewa’s robe, he quickly looked away, made the sign of the cross and started speaking in tongues. He had a special relationship with Vaseline and a website called xvideos.com that  Kesewa’s thighs reminded him of.

‘PK, save the prayers for Sala. We have an emergency. Who can drive here?’

Bryan grabbed the shirt that was hanging on his bed and responded, ‘I can. Let’s go.’

In a matter of ten minutes, they were at the hospital. Chris, being the policeman he was, gave them some first aid tips and made sure that they were not crowding around her. Bryan grabbed the car keys and parked as close to the entrance as he could. Joan and the boys lifted Sala and put her in the back seat of the car. The nurses took over and left them sitting outside.

Joan reached for her phone and called Nii Okai.

‘Please pray with us. Sala is not well. We are at the hospital.’

Within minutes, he had also arrived at the hospital. He politely said hello to the rest and sat next to Joan, speaking softly to her to calm her down. She put her head on his lap and he was quietly stroking her hair.

Kesewa couldn’t stop looking at them. At first, it was just because she was curious to see what made this Nii Okai guy like a girl like Joan. But then, the way he acted around Joan made her feel like she was lacking something. Her love life suddenly felt deficient.

Chukwu would have never come here, just to sit with me. Just look at how he is tenderly trying to calm her down. I would have gotten the ‘Stop overreacting. You are embarrassing me ‘ look.

She exhaled loudly and excused herself.

‘I am taking a quick walk. I will be right back.’

The tears started to fall as soon as she was out of their sight.

All of a sudden, she was 12 again, looking at her father’s dead body. Willing him to wake up. To move. To wink at her and call her ‘Queen Kess’. He didn’t. He stayed in the wooden box the whole time Mummy was crying her fake tears. He stayed in the box while Uncle Kweku spoke about what a loving brother he was, but failed to mention how he was sleeping with Mummy on their marital bed. He stayed in the box even though she begged him to stay with her.

Mummy didn’t change. She just moved from man to man. It was hard to tell what she was looking for. Nobody could be as amazing as Daddy and yet she kept sampling all the men in Darkuman and beyond. Tired of seeing men in Daddy’s place, Kess kept to herself. She was either reading or watching a movie. Series became her new haven- she could get lost in the episodes. It was another world- one in which her mother was not heaping her breasts into dresses that were three sizes smaller and laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, told by men who were not Daddy.

That was when she swore that she would never be like Mummy. She swore to stay with the man she chose and to never leave him.

Enter Chukwuma.

He reminded her of Daddy in so many ways. He treated her like a queen- for the most part. The other things, she tried to make excuses for. It was just her way of making life bearable. She knew that everyone thought she was crazy but she did love him and she didn’t want to break her promise.

‘Kess, are you okay?’

She sniffled and quickly brushed away the tears.

‘Yes, Bryan. I am fine. How is Sala?’

‘Oh, she is a lot better. It was a panic attack. Probably triggered by her constant worrying about getting into medical school. They just want her to rest a bit and take her mind off school for a bit. Joan and Nii Okai are making her laugh.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Kess, you are lying to me. You are not fine. You can talk to me.’

And so she did. She told him everything.

As much as one could tell in an hour.

‘Kess, you should break up with him. I think your dad would have wanted that.’

‘No, my dad would have wanted me to stay with the man I love and make it work.’

‘No man who claims to love you will ever put his hands on you. I have seen you jump when he walks into a room. You are half afraid of upsetting him. Your dad treated you like a queen. No queen gets beaten like a slave. So what is it going to be? Queen Kess or Slave Kess?’

Kesewa smiled through the tears.

‘Queen Kess.’

‘That’s what I am talking about. Do you wanna hug it out?’

She kissed him instead. Only problem is he didn’t kiss her back.

‘Kess-‘

‘I thought you–we– I– ‘

‘I am sorry. I must have given you the wrong impression. Don’t get me wrong. I like you but not like that. Especially not while you have a boyfriend. You are a sister to me. I feel responsible for you.’

‘Wow.’

‘I hope this doesn’t make things awkward.’

‘Oh no. I am the one who misread the situation. Thanks bruv.’

‘That bruv made me wince. It was a little too emphatic.’

‘Don’t worry. Thanks for listening to me and helping me make the right decision.’

‘Always.’

‘Open the damn door, Kesewa!’

Chukwuemeka kept banging on the door.

‘Come and face me. Tell me to my face. Don’t send me a text. Look me in the face and tell me you are done with me.’

‘Chukwu, you are making a scene.’

‘Then open the freaking door.’

Joan came out of the bathroom, with a towel covering her hair.

‘What’s the racket about?’

‘She broke up with Chukwu via text and he is not amused.’ , Sala quipped.

‘Open the door.’, Joan said calmly.

Kesewa turned to look at Joan.

‘Are you crazy? You want him to come and beat me up?’

‘You are no longer his girlfriend, remember? There is no reason why you should be his punching bag.’

‘He doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo.’

‘Call the boys next door. I know things are awkward with Bryan, but call them anyway. Sala, call them. I am opening the door.’

Chukwu barged in as soon as Joan unlocked the door.

‘You have some nerve. Breaking up with me via text and then making me literally beg you to open the door. Who do you think you are?’

‘A queen, Chukwu. I am a queen.’

Lunging forward to grab her hand, he exclaimed, ‘What’s gotten into you, Kesewa?’

Brian and Chris barged in just when he grabbed her.

‘I’d strongly advise you to take your hands off her.’, Chris said in a commanding voice.

‘I am an officer of the law who will arrest you for battery if you even touch a hair on her body.’

‘Police? You called the police on me?! Wow Kesewa!’

‘I am more than just the police. I am her next door neighbour and she is like a sister to me. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a punching bag.’

Tears welled up in Kesewa’s eyes.

With the exception of Bryan, she rarely spoke to the boys in the next room. And yet here they were, rooting for her.

Chukwu looked back at Kesewa.

‘Make sure you don’t come back.’

Joan replied, ‘Trust me, she won’t!’

‘You will regret this! You will be sorry.’

‘Why are you still here, Chukwu? Leave before we add trespassing to your crimes. My roommate isn’t coming back to you.’

The boys cleared the way for him to walk. That was when they saw the lady standing behind them. She had a bewildered look on her face.

‘Is this Room 1045?’

‘Yep!’

‘Well, that was some welcome. Hi, I am Stacy but you can call me Enyonam. I am your fourth roommate.’

See you next week!

Room 1045 Ep05: The Lion’s Den

And just like that, Wednesday is upon us again! Last week, Joan shocked us all by leaving Barima in one breath and dancing with Nii Okai in the next. This week, we are delving into Salamatu’s life. She is the roommate we know the least about. Let’s correct that.  Catch up on all things #Room1045 here.

Edit- I wrote this intro last Tuesday night. Unfortunately, deadlines and some unforeseen demands came into play and I had to put publishing Ep05 on hold. As always, the reactions were varied. Situations like this always make me realize how important this storytelling side gig of mine has become. It makes me realize that people don’t care if you have to jog half naked in the rain to deliver the story, they just want their story- that is both flattering and a little sad. Lol! 

Thanks again to every one of you for always reading when I post a story, especially the silent readers who came out of their hiding places to ask for their story . Like one of my good friends says, ‘You are the ones who make me relevant.’ Special thanks to all those who checked in on me and assured me to take my time. 

Happy reading!

‘You did what?’

Kesewa lifted her head unexpectedly, causing her scarf to fall off. Her braids spilled over the pillow and her cloth fell to the ground. That didn’t stop her from repeating the question.

‘You did what?’

Joan laughed. She was sitting on the table in the corner of the room.

‘I said I met my sugar daddy’s wife, broke up with my sugar daddy and ended up with a church boyfriend. All in the space of 24 hours. Top that!’

‘His wife? And your face is intact? Hasn’t she heard of acid?’

‘Wow Kess! Can’t you mask your hatred for me a little bit? We came to a mutual agreement.’

‘Mutual huh?’

‘Yes, mutual! Besides, I have moved on. Nii Okai has my heart- all of it.’

‘What about your school fees?’, Sala asked.

‘We are trusting the Loooooo-rd to make a way. Hallelujah somebody!’

Salamatu smiled quietly to herself.

Joan amused her. If she was going to be really honest, sometimes she wished she was carefree as Joan was. It seemed to work well for her. The whole Nii Okai thing seemed to be going well. It seemed like Joan had been put under a spell. She spent all her time with him. She just hadn’t found her way to his prayer meetings yet. She kept saying that tongue speaking and Bible wielding would take some getting used to.

‘Barima is calling again.’

’Are you going to keep ignoring him for the rest of your life?’

’He will give up. I am not going back. He must think that I said what I said out of guilt. He also knows that if I made a mistake, I would run with it anyways because I can be stubborn.

‘Correction. Because you ARE stubborn.’, Kesewa quipped.

Salamatu liked this: this friendly atmosphere, this lighthearted honesty.

Joan retorted, ‘Since we are being honest, when are you going to leave that boy? Chukwuemeka cannot be the only guy in the world who has caught your fancy, can he?’

Silence fell over the room like unexpected torrential rains.

When will you learn to keep your mouth shut, Joan?

Kesewa pulled the scarf  back onto her head, got off the bed and walked out of the room.

Joan caught  the look of indignation on Salamatu’s face.

‘What? We are all thinking it, aren’t we?’

‘She didn’t judge you. Why are you judging her?’

‘Judge. Did you miss the tone of I-am-better-than-you that she kept throwing at me?’

‘Maybe it is just in your mind.’

‘Sala, I wish we were all like you. You are always looking for the good in everyone and everything.’

‘Tea bread ne magarine 3 cedis. Malt baako.’

Prince looked over his shoulder when he heard the movement. It was Salamatu, the girl from next door.

Shoot! She has seen me looking at her. Now I have to say hi.

‘You are the Muslim girl from Room 1045, right?’

‘No.’

‘But I have seen you in that room before.’

‘Yes, I am in Room 1045. No, I am not a Muslim girl.’

‘Oh my bad. I just assumed-‘

‘That because my name is Salamatu, I must be Muslim? Don’t worry- happens all the time.’

‘So you are Christian?’

‘I am nothing.’

‘Atheist then?’

‘No, I believe in God. I just don’t like the labels.’

‘You should have a conversation with my roommate PK. It will be fun to listen to both of you argue.’

The owner of the tuck shop shifted uncomfortably. They had been standing in front of her shop for too long. This was not going to allow her to spot potential customers from across the street if they as much as glanced in her direction.

‘Two exercise books and correction fluid.’

‘We are barely halfway through the semester. Exams are so far off. In fact Jesus will come before exam season.’

‘I need to get into medical school. Trust me, everyday is examination day.’

‘I see. You should come by our room one of these days and have a debate with PK.’

‘When I get into med school.’

Prince smiled.

‘You will.’

They were laughing- all 7 of them.

Most study groups had 3 or 4 people max. 5 was pushing it, so 7 was weird enough.

But it worked for them.

All 7 of them were sitting together on Day 1 when the very first lecturer told them to join study groups. Harry, the natural leader amongst them, had a study schedule ready by the close of day. He also formed a whatsapp group chat and added them to a Google group so that they could remotely work on assignments together. Yaw was the joker- always ready to lighten the mood when everyone else was stressed. Shola was the task mistress- always setting targets for everyone.

‘We should have finished revising this chapter and be able to answer the past questions by the end of this meeting.’

That was Shola. She was the one to avoid when there was a deadline and you had not yet submitted your part of the work.

Princess was from Liberia. Her parents preferred to bring her to Ghana for her medical education. She seemed like the daughter of very rich and powerful people back in Liberia. She was used to having an easy ride and having people to pick up after her, so she was always clashing with Shola. The twin boys- Panyin and Kakra- were equally intelligent and mischevious. After week 3, Sala discovered that they had been taking turns as each other so that nobody would be able to make them out. She kept their secret and won their loyalty. Of the two, Kakra was the teacher. Panyin was the ‘Guys, let’s think about this calmly. There must be another way around it’ guy.

When Bonsu walked into the classroom, everyone hushed up.

Except Sala, because her back was facing the door and she didn’t see him come in.

Shola signalled at Sala but it was too late.

Bonsu walked up to their table and looked at every one of their faces.

Alpha University had two heads- the Vice Chancellor and Bonsu. It was rumoured that even the Vice Chancellor tiptoed around Bonsu.

Bonsu. Aka Black.

The ironic part was he was not black at all. He was as fair as an African man could be. Perhaps that was the whole reason why he had that name.

‘You are the only one who knows how to laugh, isn’t it?’

He grabbed the textbook that was lying open on her laps and gave it to one of the stooges following him.

‘Let’s see who is laughing now.’

Sala swallowed her saliva and said, ‘I am going to need that book. I have a test in two days’ time.’

‘Come to the Den for it.’

As soon as he and his entourage left, the talking and whispering began.

Sala looked at Harry and asked, ‘Where is the Den?’

‘Sala, are you crazy? Nobody goes to the Den- even boys are afraid to go there. You are a girl- there is no way you will survive.’

Yaw tried to joke around.

‘If you were Christian, I would have said you were trying to enact the whole Daniel in the lion’s den thing.’

Nobody laughed.

Sala repeated her question.

The boys started yelling and chanting as soon as they saw her.

The yelling intensified when they saw that she was advancing, rather than retreating.

‘I am looking for Bonsu.’

The guy who yelled the obscene words at her in response had alcohol on his breath.

The others started chanting Bonsu’s name. One of the boys pointed in the direction of a room in the far right corner of the space they were in.

The Den looked more like a refuse site. All the boys walked around in boxer shorts or nothing at all. There were clothes hanging on lines everywhere. There was also the distinct smell of kanzo. In one corner, someone was building a tower of Postinor 2 and Durex condom boxes. Another guy was singing along with Bob Marley to Redemption Song.

Sala knocked three times and pushed the door open.

The room smelt like smelly shoes, dried up sweat and stale air.

She wrinkled her nose and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

‘Where is my book?’

‘You came?’

Bonsu was sitting on a table with a bowl of aboboi and tatale in front of him. He had just scooped three spoons of sugar into the bowl. On any other day, Sala would have said something. Not today.

‘Of course. Did you really think the fact that anything would deter me? I need my books to study.’

‘Wow. You came here?’

‘What is the worst that could happen? Rape? Physical abuse? Been there, done that.’

Bonsu’s eyes widened and he checked to see if she was bluffing. It was hard to tell really.

Sala was bluffing but he didn’t need to know that. She was determined to get her book, come rain or sunshine.

‘You don’t like me much, do you?’

‘No, I don’t. I just want my book back.’

‘Wow. You are one determined lady. You walked through the catcalls and endured the jeering and obscene talk, just for a book. Couldn’t you have borrowed one from someone?’

‘No, this is about standing up to a bully. Medical students have very limited time to study. I have wasted too much of it chatting, resolving fights and ignoring catcalls. I’d like to study now. And I need that book to do that. I can only do so much when the book is for someone else- they will also need it soon. Can I have my book now please?’

‘Sit and have some aboboi with me. You eat aboboi, don’t you? Being from the North and all.’

Sala ignored him and turned her head to look around.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Something that you value and will urgently need. If I have something you want, then we can just trade, rather than endure this one sided subjugation.’

‘I doubt you’d find anything.’

‘Watch me.’

She grabbed a photo frame from the open locker adjacent his bed.

‘Put that back. That is the only picture I have of my mum.’

Sala resisted the urge to smile in triumph.

‘Give me back my book and you will have your picture.’, she said in a cold, emotionless voice.

‘You have some nerve coming here and trying to-‘

‘If you don’t give me the book, I will burn the picture. I have a lighter in my pocket. I can always buy another book but you will never have the picture back.’

Silence followed.

‘Take your book and leave. It is beneath the pillow.’

As soon as the Den was out of sight, she started running.

The lighter had been another bluff and she was wondering what would have become of her if Bonsu had found out.

That was so Joan-like. Actually, that wasn’t me chanelling my inner Joan. I was chanelling my inner Maa Rakia. Her fighter spirit. 

The smile formed without effort.

Finally.

After a cold shower, Sala finally sat on her bed to open the book she had gone to great lengths to recover. As she looked at all the things she had to read, she began to panic.

I should have made better use of my time today.

The pains in her chest came out of nowhere. Her fingers felt numb and her heart was racing.

‘I-I- can’t breathe-‘

Everything was spiraling out of control.

She could hear voices.

‘Sala! Sala! Kess, call the boys next door. We need to get her to the University Hospital.’

Suddenly, she felt like prey trapped in the lion’s den.

See you next week!