Keni Ribeiro

8 to 5 Ep13: Tomorrow

Happy Wednesday! Always a pleasure to spend time with you every week. Aside the fact that nobody acknowledged my heartfelt apology, I am doing just fine. January has been exciting so far and I just can’t wait to see what the year will bring. I have a few surprises for you over the next few weeks- keep your eyes on all social media platforms- Facebook and Instagram, especially. #2017ready!

‘Ye though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me..

Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

Thou prepareth a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

Thou anointeth my head with oil, my cup runneth over…

‘Madam’

The nurse interrupted Maku’s ‘prayer’ with nonchalance.

‘I need to sort out something in the next room. I will be right back.’

Maku swallowed hard and nodded.

She wanted to hold the nurse’s hand and beg her not to leave her alone with her thoughts but she knew that this was not the time to be soft.

Now it was just her and the cold slab she was lying on. The air smelt of bleach and something else she could not quite put her finger on. Leaving her alone with her thoughts wasn’t a good idea.

Why are you doing this, Maku? This is murder. Having a baby is nothing to be ashamed of. Robert will come around. He will see reason.

Will he?

The room felt heavy like it contained the souls of dead babies who had been left here by their mothers.

Isn’t this heartless? Killing a poor baby?

It is only a foetus.

Bloodcurdling screams penetrated through her thoughts. She wanted to jump off the ice cold metal slab she was lying off and go and see what was making the person shout.

‘It is painful. Make it stop please.’

‘My dear, we need to finish the procedure.’

‘It is too painful.’

‘I told you that but you said you could take it.’

‘He raped me. I can’t have his baby. I will never be able to live with myself. I want to forget. I want to-‘

Another bloodcurdling scream escaped from the poor girl’s lips.

‘Take in a deep breath. Try not to focus on the pain. Think of something that makes you happy.’

The nurse’s voice sounded cold, void of emotion.

Perhaps she had seen this many times. Rape victims coming in to abort pregnancies that had resulted from the rape.

Maku felt sick.

I need to throw up.

Just before she could get up from the slab, the nurse who was going to attend to her came in.

‘Sorry for the delay. We can begin now.’

‘Wait. I need a moment please.’

‘Having second thoughts?’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know.’

The nurse glanced at Maku’s wedding ring.

‘You are married?’

‘Yes’

The yes was more of a whisper.

‘What happened? Rape? Infidelity?’

Maku laughed. It was a hollow kind of laugh.

‘Nothing. My husband and I had sex and we made a baby. He doesn’t want a child yet so he wants me to get rid of it.’

‘I see. Where is your husband now?’

‘I don’t know. He has not been home in a long while. I can’t have a broken home. I can’t.’

Maku shook her head vehemently as though she was trying to convince herself that an abortion was the only solution. The tears were now flowing uncontrollably.

‘I grew up in a broken home. My children cannot go through the same thing. I just want things to go back to normal. I can’t fail.’

By now, her body was shaking with every sob that escaped from her lips. She suddenly became aware that the other women in the other rooms could also hear her like she had heard the girl who wanted to get rid of her rape baby.

‘I must do this.’

The nurse kept quiet, waiting for her to calm down. When she stopped crying, the nurse reached for what looked like a knife with a hook at the end.

‘Wait, what is that for?’

‘There are various abortion methods depending on how far along you are and the size of the unborn child. Your baby is just about 8 and half weeks old so we will use a suction tube and this knife to remove it-the knife to cut it up and the tube to suck it out.’

‘You will cut it up?’

‘Yes.’

‘I need a washroom please.’

‘Down the hallway to the right.’

As soon as the washtoom door shut behind her, she began to process what the nurse had said.

I can’t do this. I can’t have a child cut up inside me. Robert has to understand. He has to.

On her way back to the room, she met a lady who was obviously done with her procedure. Their eyes met. Maku could see relief, uncertainty and numbness in her eyes. She looked like something inside her had died.

What do you expect? Of course something has died inside her.

The nurse was still waiting for her.

Patient woman.

‘Are you ready?’

‘Madam, I think- wait, what’s your name?’

‘Agnes’

‘Agnes, I think I am ready to go home.’

Agnes smiled.

‘I will see you out.’

The weight lifted off her shoulders with every step she took out of the clinic. She didn’t know how she was going to deal with everything but she was holding on to hope.

She could deal with Robert tomorrow, but today she was going to have a good meal and watch a movie.

When is January ending? Everyone spent their money on Christmas chilling and now business is slow.

Akwasi had done a number of post-Christmas price reductions to set the ball rolling but all he got was enquiries not purchases.

Chale a whooping two more weeks! At least there will be Val’s Day purchases.

That was why he had stocked up on perfumes, boxer shorts, handkerchiefs and all the things girls got for their boyfriends for Valentine’s Day. He didn’t have the nerve to order lingerie. He was too afraid of incurring the wrath of Maame Esi. They had been fighting a lot lately.

Look at you, afraid to upset a woman. The girls in your past should see you now.

Back then, he could have sworn that he would never be bothered about any girl. He was Chocolate Thunder 2.0, God’s gift to women- and yet here he was, losing daylight over a girl.

But Maame Esi isn’t just any girl.

Like he was explaining to the other boys last week, Maame Esi was one of those girls you wanted to treat right.

‘Even if we don’t end up getting married, I must give her the best relationship ever and make her next boyfriend forever insecure about me. That’s how it is done.’

He reached for his phone to call her.

The line kept dropping so he called their landline.

Her mother picked up.

‘Sorry to call so late. It’s Akwasi. I was trying to reach Maame but the line keeps dropping.’

‘She is at the hospital.’

‘But she is not on duty today?’

‘No, she isn’t. She goes to keep Edem company on days when she is not on duty. His grandmother has been admitted and he is there alone so she goes to help out-‘

‘Can I please call back? I have an emergency to attend to.’

‘Sure.’

The feeling that washed over him was one that he could not describe- one he had never felt before. He grabbed his keys and got out of his room. He was going to the hospital to get to the bottom of the matter.

The sight that met him at the gate was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Joseph and his sister Korantemaa were kissing like there was no tomorrow, as if Jesus was coming the next day and they would be separated forever. Joseph had her pinned against the pillar beside the front gate and his hand was under her skirt. Her red nails were clawing into the back his head and they only had eyes for each other.

The force with which he pushed Joseph to the ground surprised even him. He hit him as many times as he could. Korantemaa instantly started pleading.

‘Cheap low life! You have the audacity to kiss my sister in front of my house. How dare you? I warned you to stay away from my sister. I freaking warned you! How dare you make my sister your rebound after Mahama broke up with you? My father has been scouting for a job for you because I keep pestering him to get you one and you repay me by smooching my sister?’

He lifted his head to look at Korantemaa.

‘And as for you, I will leave you for Daddy to deal with. You are only 18 for God’s sake. Only heaven knows what else you have done. Did you sleep with him?’

‘Akwasi, please-‘

‘Answer the damn question.’

‘You are raising your voice. I am scared.’

‘You are not scared of moaning when a boy is smooching you in front of your father’s house. You are not afraid of going to hell. You are afraid of my shouting. Answer my question. Did you sleep with him?’

‘Y-yes. He didn’t force me.’

‘You are very lucky I don’t hit girls. I would have slapped the living daylights out of you. Go inside and pray to God that Daddy doesn’t send you to the convent or some village that knows no Snapchat.’

She scurried past him, clearly afraid.

‘And as for you, this is the last I am seeing of you anywhere near my house and my sister. For your own sake, stay away. Otherwise Mahama’s loss will no longer be your saddest memory. I will give you a whole new list of things to be sad about. I trusted you. You were my friend, my brother. I opened my home to you and you came to smooch my sister. I repeat, I never want to see you again. Never, not in a thousand years.’

Akwasi decided against going to the hospital.

I can’t take another betrayal tonight. I can’t. I will call her tomorrow and we will talk about this when I am calm, when the adrenalin has stopped pumping. I can’t lose everything in one night. Tomorrow…

Mawuli fingered the forms, lost in thought.

It was Edem’s idea to apply to join the army. He wasn’t interested but like Edem said, ‘there is no harm in trying.’

It was going to be rigorous if the stories he had heard were anything to go by. But he was happy to have something to look forward to. He was tired of being the one who had nothing going on in his life, tired of working for Akwasi, tired of taking hand me downs from Edem. It was time to take things into his own hands.

Tomorrow… I will deal with this tomorrow.

Before he drifted to sleep, he saw that Akwasi had removed Joseph from the ‘Your Mama’s dream lover’ group chat. He almost texted him to ask why but he was too sleepy to have a coherent conversation.

Tomorrow…

See you next week!

NB: Anyone planning on becoming an Uber driver anytime soon? It is a great way to make money, even if you already have a main job. You can even sign up if you don’t have a car and they will assign one to you. All you need is a smartphone and a driver’s license. Just click here to sign up, using this invite code maukenikue. This way, they will know that I sent you. 😉 Don’t worry, you can give me a free ride in return every once in a while. 🙂

30 before 30

This is a list of things I hope to do by the time I am thirty. It is more like a wishful thinking list. They are not in order of importance, just in order of what came to mind first. These lists are exciting to make and as always, I don’t know if I will get 30 things but let’s see how this goes! Xx

Get married to the love of my life
Sing in the opera
Learn how to play the bass guitar
Host a radio show- choral music, food, politics…
Become a brand ambassador for Ferrero Rocher (they can even pay me in kind-I no bore)
Publish a book or three
Become a voice over artiste
Have a passport full of travel stamps
Reverse park like a boss
Stop procrastinating aka become more self-disciplined
Embrace God’s will wholeheartedly
Rattle French and German as well as I do English
Attend a Hillsong concert
Climb a mountain
Ride a motorcycle
Stand at the bottom of a waterfall (take a shower there too 🙂 )
Start a retirement plan
Get an extra ear piercing
Welcome the New Year at Times Square
Have a circle of older women that I look up to
Give a great speech that people will quote from for years to come
Learn how to swim properly
Preach the gospel in any way I can
Learn how to do my own makeup (what is foundation? 🙈😂)
Become role model material
Read more often than I write
Have a star named after me
Volunteer for a cause I believe in
Become an expert in something
Make God proud

What do you want to do before you turn 30? Or 40? Or whatever age limit works for you…

Do share!

8 to 5 Ep12: Valley of the shadow of death

Hi guys! I trust that everyone is doing well. I owe you an explanation and an apology. For the last month, I haven’t published 8 to 5 ‘on time’. I didn’t finish the 7 days of Xmas series and I haven’t responded to comments in a while. Life keeps getting in the way – an exam, work commitments, a bad day, writer’s block, a post that is not long enough, all sorts of things. Juggling the many roles has been more overwhelming in recent times, more overwhelming than I expected it to be. And while one may argue that it is not by force to do so, I feel like I owe it to you to do better because you guys are the wings on which this blog has flown for so long. I am truly sorry. I promise to do better. You deserve better.

Thank you so much to every one of you who took time to respond to the poll. If you haven’t and would like to, please do so here (It is at the bottom of the post). Those of you who were disappointed about the fact that Edem didn’t ‘eat of the forbidden fruit;’ that happened because I didn’t want to break the hearts of those who are in cyber love with him. Plus of course, there is always a twist somewhere. 😉😆

Anyone planning on becoming an Uber driver anytime soon? It is a great way to make money, even if you already have a main job. You can even sign up if you don’t have a car and they will assign one to you. All you need is a smartphone and a driver’s license. Just click here to sign up, using this invite code maukenikue. This way, they will know that I sent you. 😉 Don’t worry, you can give me a free ride in return every once in a while. 🙂

Happy reading! (P.S: Do you follow the blog on IG? You should! We’ll be starting a Kenikodjo reader profile thingy called #FollowerFriday soon. Some of you think you are silent readers but I see you and I would like to honour as many random readers as possible. It will be cool, I promise!)

‘Spell plagiarism’

‘Ah why? Ibi spelling bee?’

The boys started laughing, Joseph the loudest.

It was great to be the one laughing at someone else for a change.

They all knew that the President could hold his own when it came to speech-giving but Joseph was happy to poke fun at all the NPP guys. He did not attend the inauguration – he watched it on TV and re-lived the pain via Twitter. And even though he was silently crushing on Samira Bawumia, he could not bring himself to accept the fact that Nana Addo was President. He could not bring himself to accept that all these people voted for the man. The kind of cheering that even came from his neighbours when the President finished taking the Presidential Oath was enough to make him feel sick in the stomach.

So yes, he was going to ride on this plagiarism fiasco for as long as he could. Not even discussions about residences and offices or ministerial appointments were going to change that. It sort of felt good to be able to laugh at the people who had made his party a laughingstock.

‘She is awake.’

The nurse tapped Edem, who then realised that he had fallen asleep on Maame Esi’s lap in the adjourning room. She was still asleep. As expected, she looked just as beautiful asleep as she did awake. He could not remember clearly exactly what happened but he remembered beating himself up about Grams and Maame Esi comforting him like her happiness depended on his.

Maybe it did. Stop it, Elorm. Get a grip of yourself.

He gingerly moved his body to avoid waking her up.

Nice eyelashes.

Maame Esi didn’t need artificial eyelashes. Hers were long, thick and curled at the end, as if she had used mascara. Her upper lip quivered and Edem panicked, thinking that she might have caught him staring at her.

False alarm- she took in a deep breath and her chest returned to its rise and fall pattern.

Edem’s phone buzzed.

It was Akwasi.

‘Ma guy, any update on Grams?’

Edem started to type, ‘She just woke up. Maame Esi spent the night here with us koraa..’

On second thought, he just sent, ‘She just woke up. Thanks for asking, bro.’

‘Oww ma guy. Grams is family, you know this.’

Edem’s chest felt heavy.

This must be what the girls call emotional cheating. I spend four hours asleep by a girl and admire her eyelashes for 10 seconds, and now I can’t even text my brother normally. What am I going to do when we are in the same room?

Feels like the week of bad decisions- first this almost scandal with Nadia, now this. Edem, what’s wrong with you?

He never got to answer that question because that man was standing by Grams, holding her hand.

The anger boiled in him and it was just the fear of Grams having another cardiac attack that kept him from pushing the man through the wall.

He just kept staring at the way the man was holding Grams’ hand, as though he knew her.

‘How may I help you?’

‘Edem or should I say, Brian’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Brian. That is the name your mother and I gave you.’

‘Respectfully Sir, you are going to have to be a little more specific than that. I don’t know you. You are holding my grandmother’s hand and telling me I have other names. You need to start from the beginning and please don’t upset my grandmother while you are telling your story. Otherwise I will not hesitate to punch you in the face- with no apologies. She is all I have and I will protect her fiercely until the day I die.’

The man smiled.

‘They brought you up well – passionate, loyal and respectful. Have a seat, Son.’

Edem looked up to make sure Grams was okay. She smiled softly at him.

‘About 30 years ago, I met your mother. It was the storybook version of a whirlwind romance. I fell deeply and quickly in love, so did she. She got pregnant with you before we could get to tying the knot. Her father was a retired army commander and he was determined that she would marry well. He forbade me from seeing her and you the day he met me. I could not be there when you were born. Her dad made her give you up for adoption as soon as you came out of her womb.’

Edem’s heart was pounding, the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was vaguely aware that Maame Esi was awake now. The beeps from Gram’s heart monitor and his own heartbeat were forming a rhythm that Amanzeba Nat Brew could turn into a masterpiece. His palms were sweating like they did, anytime he was nervous. And boy was he nervous! This always happened when he felt out of control. These days, that happened more often than not.

‘Your mum died when you were about 5 years old. Bad case of typhoid. I promised her at the graveyard that I will find you.’

‘Wait, what kind of movie script are you reading this from? Way too much emotion. Is this supposed to win my sympathy or explain why it took you 23 years to find me after she died? I wonder why you didn’t try to find me sooner. This daddy story sounds awfully convenient.’

‘Leth him finish’

As soft as it was, Edem caught Grams’ comment. Her slurred speech made it difficult to hear her well but he heard this alright.

‘Yes Grams.’

‘Your grandfather was a very wealthy and powerful man. He made sure that you were almost untraceable. But my search brought me to a nurse who was there the day your other parents took you home. She was the one who gave me your parents’ home address. Thankfully you still lived in that house and that was the day I met your grandmother. I told her my story and she listened kindly. She assured me that you were being raised well and even showed me pictures of you. I decided to leave you in their care and to just keep an eye out for you so that I would not disturb the life you had come to know.’

Edem bit his tongue to keep him from retorting something heartless.

‘I have a family now. I have been out of the country for about 15 years. I went to your house to ask about your grandmother and someone directed me to the hospital. That was when I saw you. As soon as I set my sights on you, I knew. I just knew.’

Edem rolled his eyes.

‘I am sorry I wasn’t there for you. I am sorry it took so long to meet you. I am so proud of the man you have become and I can’t wait to start the future with you. I want you to meet your siblings and your cousins. I want you to-‘

‘I’ll stop you right there. Isn’t it a little presumptuous to assume that all is well and we are all going to be one happy family? I have gone through so many emotions just listening to you right now- from anger to shock to surprise to hurt to indifference. I have always known that I didn’t particularly look like my family members but they loved me. Today I can see that I have your toe nails and your nose. How can you claim to love me and not look for me for so long? What if I had died? Or had gotten into bad company? Or fallen sick? How can you claim to love me?’

Maame Esi’s hand on his shoulder made him realise that he was raising his voice.

‘I am sorry, Edem. I really am, but what matters is that you are my son and I am here now.’

Edem remained silent, his eyes fixed on the space above Grams’ head. He didn’t say anything but his silence was louder than a thousand vuvuzelas on full blast during a Ghana-Naija football match.

Maku shut her eyes.

God, please forgive me.

She was waiting for the nurse to come in and begin the procedure.

In the room next door, she could hear a young girl screaming in the room adjacent to them.

God, I am sorry. I just need to do this.

She could hear her mother’s disapproval in her mind’s ear. ‘Children are a gift from God. How can you kill someone that God has created for you?’

Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had chosen the day when she was sprawled on the operation table to have doubts.

What if you die? What if Robert doesn’t come back? What if you regret this for the rest of your life? What if you go to hell?

She opened her eyes and whimpered.

The nurse was putting on gloves.
It was time.

She shut her eyes and started to recite the one Scripture her mother had taught her to recite whenever she was afraid.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Ye though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me..

See you next week!

Love,

Keni!

8 to 5 Ep11: Thou shall not catch feelings

Happy New Year!!! (This excludes the hoarders, of course.) I hope you like the new look 🙂 I am so excited about the possibilities that the New Year will bring. I was listening to Citi FM yesterday and one of the things I learnt is to carefully think about what you would want to see happen in your 2017 and deliberately install habits in your life to achieve exactly that. I am working on my list and corresponding habits. Let’s catch up at the end of 2017 to see how far we have come. Here’s to the exciting days ahead! God is in it: we shall not fail! ❤

Moving on to other matters… Ei Ghanafo! You like sex and politics papa! Sexual healing got so much attention that her other sibling episodes are kinda jealous. Shout outs to the lady I sat in the Lapaz trotro with yesterday morning- you definitely made my day with your analysis of all the characters. I agree, Akwasi sounds like a guy who should be your friend, Maame Esi sounds perfect and almost everyone is hoping that Edem ends up with her instead. But like I always say, we will see where the story takes us.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

Nadia had just interrupted another very steamy kiss to ask Edem this same question.

‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to, would I?’

‘Yes I know. But given the circumstances, I don’t want you to regret it,’

Edem stopped playing with her waist beads and looked at her face.

‘Which circumstances?’

He had deliberately not told her about the man he had met in the corridor. It was one of the reasons why he was with her and not with his friends. He was avoiding the silent looks of pity. That was why he was puzzled to hear her speak like that.

‘Erm, the fact that you are a virgin. You are a great guy and I am sure you were saving yourself for your wife, which is admirable but near impossible, if you ask me.’

The edges of Edem’s lips slightly curled into a smile.

‘Well, you have my permission to de-virginize me. And yes, I will still walk away without ‘catching feelings’. I know you are getting married soon. This is just for today.’

‘Good. Thou shall not catch feelings.’

Nadia gently pushed him off her with a smile on her face and walked to the bathroom to pee, her waist beads naturally arched around her supple lace clad buttocks. Waking everyday to do squats suddenly felt more worth it.

This is too good to be true!

She had always ogled Edem. The only difference was that he was too much of a good boy to have a fling with and she had never cooked up the nerve to suggest a quickie in one of the washrooms that was on the blind side of the CCTV cameras. But the gods seemed to be smiling down on her. He was the one who called her and she was the one going to ‘deflower’ him. It could not get better than this.

When she came back, he said, ‘This time, no more questions.’

She replied, ‘Your wish is my command.’

That was what he told Grams whenever she asked for a favour. His mind took him back to the hospital where she was probably lying alone and stopped him from pulling off Nadia’s lace thong.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You sure? Not getting cold feet, are you?’

‘I am really sorry but I can’t do this. I have to go.’

‘I can’t convince you to change your mind?’, Nadia asked, ready to whip up a lap dance to restore his appetite.

‘No, thanks.’

Grabbing his trousers and his shirt, he walked into the bathroom to get dressed. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror and paused.

That was very stupid of you, Edem. What if she got pregnant or gave you some disease? What if her fiance walked in? Why throw away the virginity that you have spent your whole life protecting? Why further complicate your life just because you have questions?

When he came out, she was fully dressed.

‘I called you an Uber since you didn’t come with a car.’

‘Thanks. Once again, I am sorry.’

He paused, as if he was about to give her a hug and decided against it.

‘All the best with the wedding.’

‘Thanks.’

As soon as the car took off, he reached for his phone.

‘Akwasi, you would not believe what almost happened! Yes, I know it is late but this cannot wait. You know that thing you keep saying about your common sense fleeing when you have an erection? I believe you wai-‘

I am going to do it. I have to do it.

After three weeks without Robert, Maku had decided that she needed to get the abortion procedure done. Robert’s visible absence from all the Christmas gatherings didn’t help matters. Her aunties kept gossiping loudly amongst themselves while her poor mother churned out story after story to explain away his absence. She was slacking at work, making mistakes she would normally not make. Dracula was not sympathetic in the least.

‘Young lady, you either get it together or go home.’

Interestingly, the stress had helped her to lose some weight so her waist was now smaller, to the delight of her office husband, Kevin.

‘Baby girl, you know what to do. Come and let me treat you right. You are royalty- I keep telling you this. That pig doesn’t deserve these pearls mehn!’

As tempting as that was, she knew that a fling never ended well- not even in the movies. Plus, considering what they said about Krobo girls, he might not be able to walk away without incident.

I will go next week. I still have a few leave days left.

Maame Esi rolled her eyes and reached for the lip balm.

Those of you who were praying for the harmattan, are you happy now?

After pouncing on an ‘outsider’ for talking about the harmattan and its commissioning, Ghanaians had managed to sack the harmattan for a few days- until now. It was back.

Christmas had been superb. Her parents had managed to play nice long enough to throw a Christmas party together and it was the highlight of her Christmas. That and entering the New Year with Akwasi by her side at the Crossover service. He had never been for a watchnight service before because he claimed that he could not stay awake. His eyes remained open for this one. Infact, he loved it.

She was happy about this- his sudden interest in the things of God. It gave them one more thing to connect with.

So like joke, tomorrow is the inauguration?

The pain of losing the election didn’t seem to be getting any easier.

First it was the transition team thing. Then it was Onaapo replacing the Christmas carols. Then it was the mockery on Twitter when the President gave his final State of the Nation address- what is #ByeByeMahama? Now it was the inauguration. Seeing pictures of the set up alone made his heart hurt.

‘This could have been me’, he thought to himself when he saw one of his classmates posing beside the dais.

Four years will fly by shortly. He can run again.

That was what Korantemaa said anytime he got moody.

He always said this in his head: What am I supposed to do for the next 4 years? Bite my nails in hope that life wouldn’t have passed me by, by then?

It can pain.

His situation was better. It was rumoured that one of the big men had even attempted committing suicide. The fact that the man that they had sworn would never be President was now President- elect was too much for him to handle. What made it worse was that there were audios, videos and memes of him all over the place. Social media was the worst place to be right now. Even Ataa Oko’s incident with JJ could not die without incident.

‘I weeell essplain’

Grams’ speech had become slurred. He tried to get her to stop talking but she insisted that she needed to tell him why she had kept it from him.

‘Please just rest. We can talk about it later on.’

‘Okay, buh please duh worree’

‘I won’t. Just rest.’

As if it could hear him, her heart monitor started beeping.

‘Nurse!’, he cried out with all his strength.

Everything else happened so quickly. One of the nurses called Maame Esi to come and be with him because he kept pacing outside the door anxiously. Grams was having cardiac complications.

‘It is all my fault. I should not have said anything.’

‘No, it is not. Just calm down. I am sure everything will be just fine.’, Maame Esi replied.

Maame Esi hovered at the door, worried about everything that could possibly go wrong. It wasn’t in her nature to be this nosy but she had come to care for Edem and his grandmother these past few weeks.

‘She can’t leave me yet. Please do everything you can.’

Now he was crying softly, his head in his hands.

Maame Esi could not hold back anymore. She pulled him into an embrace, rubbing his back. His head was cradled in her bosom and she was quietly making the hush sound she made anytime she was trying to comfort a baby.

‘It is going to be okay. We are going to be okay.’

She started humming the hymn that Grams used to sing to Edem.

Her eyes fell on his ever perfect hairline. The boys always said that his barber had a degree in architecture- she could see why.

She wanted to help carry the burden so that he would not have to carry it alone. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to save him.

In that moment, she realized that she may have just started catching feelings for her boyfriend’s best friend.

See you next week!

P.S: Kenikodjo must do better this year, so please answer this poll to help me do that. Thanks! ❤

#7daysofXmas 3: Balloon Love

The first two stories can be found here and here. This story is dedicated to Jemima and Miravis, my readers who called me all the way from Algeria yesterday to thank me for writing stories they can enjoy. You completely made my evening! ❤

Sakumono Estates, 1995

‘If you don’t give me some, I will tell Ma that you broke the glass yesterday.’

Dennis held out his hand to give his sister some of the cookies.

He had stolen them for himself so he was grumpy about sharing them.

He had carefully taken a cookie each from the paper pouches in the Danish Cookies container, that way it could not be detected. There were 3 unopened containers on the dinning table and he was praying that Ma would not choose to give them away.

Being a five year old had its perks. He could run around the flats in the rain, bare chested (only when Ma was not around) Nobody asked him to chop onions or empty the bin or help with the fufu. His sister, Eunice, didn’t have as much luck as he did. She grumbled under her breath and he laughed and rolled onto her side of the bed, just to spite her. She had drawn an imaginary line on the bed and he always found cunning ways to cross it.

It serves her right for taking some of my cookies.

When the onions Ma and Eunice were peeling started to burn his eyes, he decided that it was time to visit the neighbours.

He stood at the door and yelled, ‘Ma, I am going to see Kojo’ and ran off before she could reply.

The great thing about living in the flats was that there were so many lives he could live. One moment, he was the only grandson of the retired couple that lived downstairs or one of Mr and Mrs Thompson’s eight children, nine if you were counting him as well. Today he was Kojo’s twin brother.

Kojo had always been his brother. They were born in the same week in the same hospital. They lived two blocks away from each other. Both mothers had gotten used to the fact that either son could spend the night in one home or the other, so they both had spare clothes in each other’s homes. Dennis liked being at Kojo’s house because his mother always had a snack for them. Today it was Refresh and Cabin biscuits.

‘I love Christmas.’

‘Me too!’

They were lying side by side on Kojo’s bed, playing the ‘whose legs are longer game and dirtying the wall in the process.

‘Let’s go and buy balloons.’

‘Where? Cynthia’s mother’s shop?’

He liked Cynthia, Dennis that is.

He made it a point to casually stroll in front of the shop and ask for a balloon. Even though he knew that there was no way that he will win the biggest balloon, no matter what he did, he kept going back and poor Kojo went with him. Cynthia was 7 and way out his league but he wasn’t interested in winning. He just wanted to be close to her.

‘One balloon.’, he yelled.

Soon a hand came to take his money and give him the balloon. Cynthia’s hand.

That was when he saw them.

The christmas masqueraders aka eemaasi aka ka ka moto bi.

They were drumming and dancing to their own music, advancing towards Dennis. Oblivious, of course, to the horror unfolding in his 5 year old heart, the masqueraders chanted and inched closer by the second. He could feel the urine travelling down his trousers so swiftly. He was frozen to the ground, caught between begging his legs to run for his life and praying that Cynthia would not see that he had wet his trousers.

‘Dennis, let’s go.’

Ever faithful Kojo grabbed Dennis’ hand and started running. They ran back to Kojo’s house to change clothes before any of their mothers could see them. They stood in Kojo’s room, panting as though they had just finished a 80km marathon.

Kojo’s mother called out, ‘Just in time. Boys, sit down and eat.’

It was their favourite- rice, corned beef stew and boiled egg.

Outside, it was getting dark. The new joint Fridays was playing loud music- on a normal day, it would have been annoying but this time it was fun. It was like a big communal party.

Later that evening, everyone came to sit outside- Mr Kuma with his cat, the Oforis, the Thompsons, the Agbekos, the Frimpongs and even the Schandorfs who never took part in anything. They were nibbling on finger food, chatting and lighting firecrackers. The first firecracker that went off was fired by Mr Agbeko.

The kids were both excited and scared.

Dennis peered in wonder from behind his mother’s skirt, at the colourful lights dancing in the sky. He soon mustered courage to run up and down the road with Kojo, their eyes fixed on the lights, the unfortunate incident of the afternoon forgotten. He could deal with his Cynthia problems later. Tonight was about chasing the lights with his best friend.

After all, what was Christmas to a five year old, if not a festival of lights and love?

#7daysofXmas 2: Hospital Carols

This story is personal because I lived it- five years ago. My heart goes out to all the families dealing with the loss or sickness of a loved one. If you missed the first one, here it is.

Merry Christmas again everybody! ❤

He looked weak.

Weaker than he did the day before.

Dede swallowed hard and blinked back the tears.

Daddy had a smile on. He always put on a smile for his girls- Momma, Korkor and her. Momma was there every morning and afternoon to bath him and feed him. The girls came in the evening to cheer him up and take over the care giving so that Momma could rest a bit. He always put on a brave face when the nurses came to look for his veins to give him injection, always smiled as Korkor tried to trick him into taking another spoonful of soup, always laughed at the girls’ jokes, always acted as if this was just another day.

Except it wasn’t.

This was the first Christmas that Daddy wasn’t home. He wasn’t helping them to set up a Christmas tree or buy some drinks for the house. He was not sampling the cakes Momma baked and making jokes about his waistline expanding by the second. He wasn’t harmonizing Christmas carols with Dede or promising them that this year’s Christmas family outing would be fun.

It wasn’t like every other Christmas.

Daddy was surrounded by beeping machines and wires. There were no Christmas decorations, no carol singing, no smell of freshly baked cake. There was only the smell of bleach, the sound of people moaning in pain and nurses with grumpy faces, almost as though they blamed Daddy and all the other patients for being stuck during Christmas.

Dr Boama stood at the door, watching the family huddled around their father. It was a bittersweet memory- it reminded him of his father 7 years ago. Same scenario, except his father never left that Christmas. He died a day before the New Year.

Dede looked up and saw Dr Boama.

‘Hello Doctor.’

‘Hi, I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘No, it’s fine. Please come and see him.’

He could feel the girls’ eyes on him as he checked the file by the bedside and spoke to their father.

‘Can our father come home for Christmas?’

‘Not this year, I am afraid. We still need to keep him close for observations.’

Korkor tried to hide her disappointment.

‘When can he come home?’

‘I am afraid I really can’t tell.’

Dede kept her head down to make sure that nobody saw the tears, but Daddy did. He reached out and rubbed the back of her hand. He always knew these things- he knew when she was sad, angry, frightened, jealous, insecure, name it. He could always tell.

‘Remember when you were little and you were afraid of not being able to wake up in the morning if you fell asleep?’

‘Yes I do’, she replied, using every ounce of inner strength to keep her voice from breaking.

‘Remember what I told you?’

She nodded this time because the tears were now tumbling down.

‘I told you that you should not let the uncertainty of tomorrow rob you of the joy that today brings. Ir doesn’t matter what happens tomorrow- let’s enjoy today. I know you are strong girls and even though Christmas looks gloomy, we can still have a great time because at least we are together.’

The girls leaned in to hug their father. An idea dawned on Dede and she got up to go and execute it.

An hour later, her mother showed up with food and Christmas lights. The girls strung the lights around Daddy’s bed whilst Momma dished out the food. Dede knew what would be the icing on the cake- music.

She started singing softly:

Once in Royal David’s city stood a lowly cattle shed

where a mother laid her baby in a manger for his bed..

The rest of the family joined in the singing. Some of the other patients also hummed along.

As for Daddy, he had tears in his eyes.

Amidst the ‘three French hens’ and the ‘Tis the season to be jolly’, he pondered over what he had asked the doctor not to tell them until Christmas was over- that he won’t live to see another Christmas. The cancer was spreading. Like he had told Dede, the uncertainties of the future were not going to stop him from enjoying the present. Today was perfect- his entire family was with him and they had brought Christmas along with them. Tomorrow could wait.

He joined in the chorus: ‘O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!’

#7DaysOfXmas 1:Going home

Merry Christmas, guys! As promised, I am releasing a set of 7 Christmas-related micro stories this season. I am already far behind time so it’s best to get started now. Home is the best place to be for Christmas. And that is exactly what today’s story is about. Love, Keni!

Goodness gracious!

The smell of the baby’s ‘Christmas gift’ filled the air and it gargled in satisfaction. Everyone in the bus laughed except Kwakye, of course.

What is there to laugh about?

This baby had been screaming at the top of her lungs for the past 30 minutes and her mother had tried every trick in the ‘Make her stop crying’ book. 5 minutes ago, all the women in the bus had joined to sing ‘Baby Little Girl don’t cry’ over and over again but somehow the singing made her cry even more. Not that he could blame her, the singing was worse than the howling sound the malnourished dogs made when the ambulances were passing through Ashaiman.

Someone suggested indigestion and her mother anxiously rubbed her daughter’s abdomen. A few minutes later, the gift was released and her mother sighed in relief.

Kids and their mothers.

I am sure Mama would have done the same thing for me.

He had not been home in the longest time, not since Mama passed away.

Mama with her gray hair, bow legged legs and her kind smile. She didn’t have much of an education but she carried herself like a lady. She should have never married Papa.

He was so angry that she had died of malaria, something that could have been treated. He was angry with himself for not travelling back to Fankyeneb3bomeka as soon as his sister called him. He was angry that she died before he got there. He was angry that his father had the audacity to appear at the funeral drunk. He was so angry that he punched him in front of everyone and walked away, despite his sister’s pleas for him to stop. He did not regret punching him; he just regretted the fact that he marred his mother’s funeral.

And so he never went back.

Every Christmas, his sister would call and ask him to come. Every Christmas, he would send corned beef, sardines and some money instead. He didn’t go back when his sister got married- he knew that it broke her heart. He didn’t go back when his father died. He didn’t go back when Ofori, his childhood friend, had his first child. He didn’t go back for Mama’s fifth anniversary.

It was easier to make excuses- he had just started working at Baba’s spare parts shop, he was trying to raise money to afford a place of his own, he needed to pay off the loan he took, he was opening his own spare parts shop, he was not ready to go back home.

That was the real reason- he was not ready.

But today, ready or not, he was going back.

That was why he closed the shop on 22nd and gave his boys the day off. He also went to town to buy as many gifts as he could buy for everyone- from Ama Serwaa,the woman who sold provisions behind the Methodist Primary School, to Wofa Nimo, the official village drunk who sat at the bus stop bathed in palm wine and whistling off-key. That was why he had endured baby poop, sweat, a flat tyre and a sitting mate who kept drooling in his sleep to go home.

It was because he dreamt about Mama. She looked the same. She smiled and touched the scar on his forehead- the one he got after he fell off the mango tree behind the school park. He embraced her and buried his face in her shoulder. Amidst tears, he managed to utter the words, ‘Mama, I’m sorry.’

She whispered, ‘Go home.’ just before he woke up.

So when he woke up sweating and out of breath, he knew what to do.

The village had not changed much- same old mud huts, same old wooden structures, same old school. There were some NDC posters on the walls of the school. Ama Serwaa’s stall was still there. He got down from the bus with his ‘Ghana must go’ bag in hand and started walking towards the house.

His nephew, Kojo, saw him first.

He yelled, ‘Kwakye aba oo!’ to anyone who would listen.

It was like a movie. People came to stand at the entrance of their huts to look at him. He nodded respectfully at the old men sitting under the trees in the centre of the semi-circle of huts his house belonged to. Then he saw his sister- she looked just like Mama but without the grey hair. She was also pregnant.

‘Welcome home.’

After the yam fufu had been eaten and all pleasantries had been exchanged, they all went to sit outside- his sister and her husband, his cousins, his nephews and nieces, his uncles and aunties. The moon was full, as if it knew that today was special. The kids were roaming wild; after all, there was no bedtime today. He caught his sister’s eye. She rubbed her belly and smiled. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, the yam fufu aligning itself well in his stomach.In his mind’s eye, he could see Mama sitting with them, smiling her wise smile. The world could have stopped and he would not have noticed.

After all, he was home.

It was good to be home.

When we gather together in the moonlit village ground it is not because of the moon. Every man can see it in his own compound. We come together because it is good for kinsmen to do so.- Chinua Achebe

8 to 5 Ep10: Sexual healing

Hi guys! First of all, apologies for not publishing yesterday. I got home super exhausted and decided to take a 30 minute nap before finishing up the post. Guess what? I woke up this morning. My mother woke me up several times but the body was weak. Nobody is happier about the Christmas holidays than I am. In other news, Christmas is here! Super exciting! Merry Christmas to each and every one of you!

Birthday shout outs to Sylvia, Amanda, the two Uncle Kofis, Oko, Suma and Kuukuwa.

As always, happy reading (albeit belated)!

This was Maame Esi’s idea.

The youth service, that is.

She had said that it was an annual end of year service for the youth.

She had said that it would be fun and that it would mean a lot to her if Akwasi came. Of course, that won him over and he had managed to drag the entire squad of boys to church with him.

All of them.

Even the ones who never spoke on the group chat.

That was the thing about Akwasi- he knew how to move people.

He had found a way to make the service look cool, indirectly making it automatically attractive for the rest of them. He even made a joke about finally seeing the angels and demons on the group chat.

And so here they were, seated on one pew.

The youth pastor was preaching as though he was high on drugs- prancing up and down, making exaggerated gestures and screaming into the microphone. His veins were protruding like the belly of a woman who was in her ninth month of pregnancy. He had a huge white towel sprawled over his left shoulder and he was holding the microphone like a rap artiste. There were some over exuberant boys who were sitting in front and interjecting his sermon with ‘Mmh, deep!’, ‘Preach!’, and ‘You are dialing my number!’

Today’s topic was ‘Set yourself apart’.

‘Sexual immorality is a sin against God. Do you not know that your body is the temple of God and that the Holy Spirit dwells in you? Why are you defiling your body by having sex with someone you are not married to?’

Because her body is ravishing. You are right to call it a temple.

Joseph shifted in his seat. He didn’t mean to reply but then he could not help himself. He scanned the room as though everyone could read his mind and he was checking for their reactions.

That Korantemaa girl, darn!

She was a lot more experienced than she let on. Last night, they had had sex and she knew just what to do. He felt like the virgin in the room. The moves, the strokes, the different positions- she moved like a woman who knew what she was about. It was almost as if her waist was powered by Bui Dam. He had not seen anything like that- not in all his years of watching porn or his three attempts to ‘deflower’ Akosua, his next door neighbour.

He was the one who was exhausted after two rounds but it was a welcome distraction from the aftermath of the elections. He had started applying for jobs again. The possibility of new beginnings was a turn on, literally.

‘I repeat, sex outside the boundaries of marriage is sin. Yes, the entire world is screaming sex. If you want to sell a car, sex. If you want to be successful in the music business, release a song about sex. If you want to be popular on Twitter, be sexy. Everyday sex, everyday sex.’

The people in the congregation started murmuring amongst themselves. The boys in front had kept quiet- clearly Osofo was ‘dialing their numbers.’ The girls in the choir were also fidgeting. They looked like they had been doing more than just lifting up holy hands. It was only the over-exuberant Prayer Secretaries from campus who were on their feet, echoing whatever the pastor was saying.

‘Brethren, you need to flee from sexual sin. Can I hear an Amen? You see, this generation has to make a conscious effort to flee from sexual sin. Don’t sleep in the same room together, don’t listen to Sexual Healing, don’t send him nude pictures, don’t wear short skirts to his house, stop asking her what she is wearing. FLEE!’

What are you wearing?

Akwasi’s favourite question.

He had always asked his girlfriends that question, since time immemorial. Yes, including Maame Esi. She looked too innocent to send nudes but of course, nobody could escape Akwasi’s sweet tongue. Coupled with the fact that she was a doctor and was used to seeing naked bodies, he had an incessant flow of pictures on his phone.

That was why his phone was only unlocked by fingerprint verification. He also had a secret folder with a password for all his pictures. He looked at them when everyone was gone, when nobody was watching.

‘Our God is omniscient and omnipresent. This means he is all-seeing and all-knowing. He sees you when you are masturbating and he knows where your porn magazines are hidden. Infact he is right there with you when you reach for the Vaseline, when you prance and display your naked body for that boy to look at, like a Victoria’s Secret model.It is not worth it. You have been set aside for a purpose!’

Eish, Osofo.

The man get info roff! We all get Christmas plans wey the man dey spoil moves so..

Heart racing. Palms sweaty. Irregular breathing. Fidgety eyes and hands.

Mawuli was convinced that the pastor had read his diary before the service. Not that he actually had one- diaries were for girls and gay men, in his opinion. How did he know about the Vaseline? Masturbating had become his pastime especially since he didn’t have a job. Infact he had given himself a dose before turning up for the service. Now he was avoiding the pastor’s eyes.

‘If you don’t believe me, why do you ask your girlfriends to get the baby removed when they get pregnant? Abortion? God forbid it! As if fornication is not bad enough, you want to add murder to the list of sins. Wait! Wait until you are married. Honour God. Bring glory to him. Keep shame away from your home. Keep your eyes fixed on the goal.’

Abortion.

That was what the lady who came in earlier today was talking about.

Maku.

Yes, that was her name.

She was crying and her lips trembled when she asked if she would be allowed to have an abortion.

‘If you want a procedure done for you, you may have to go to Marie Stopes. May I ask why you want to have an abortion?’

‘My husband-‘

Her voice broke.

‘I don’t want to lose my husband. If we have another baby, he might never come back.’

‘What kind of man asks his wife to abort their child?’, Maame Esi thought to herself.

‘Ir’s not too late to return to the path of righteousness. Jesus’ love is greater than your dirtiest secret or your biggest sin. He is more than ready to receive you and restore you. Return to the Father and let him wash you with his blood.’

Blood. Father.

Edem had had enough. He definitely did not intend to show up for this programme, but Maame Esi had asked him to and he still did not know how to say no to her.

‘It might just be what you need to get your mind off everything. Come to church with us. I don’t want you to be alone with your thoughts.’

What she didn’t know was that the thoughts followed him everywhere, even into churches where the youth pastor was preaching about sex.

Words like blood and father just painfully reminded him of that night in the hospital. He clinched his fists. Yes, he was angry all over again, just thinking about it. Irate, even.

‘How can you be my father? Where have you been all these years? How did you know where to find me? What do you want from me?’

‘I understand you have questions. We just need to sit down and talk.’

‘Don’t speak to me like we are friends or like I am your son. Even if it is true, you haven’t earned the right to. You understand nothing.’

He knew he was raising his voice but he was too upset to think straight. The contradictions were too many- his grandmother was not his grandmother, his parents were not his parents, this stranger claimed that he was his father. So he walked out on him.

Standing outside the church, he fidgeted with his phone until the idea occurred to him.

He dialled her number. Nadia’s number. Yes, the same girl he had vowed not to get close to, especially since she was going to get married.

‘Hey. Is this a bad time?’

‘No, what’s up?’

‘I am having a really crappy day. More like a crappy week. I just don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to be responsible Edem. I don’t even know what I want. Does it make sense?’

‘It doesn’t have to. Where are you?’

‘Church. I will send you the location via whatsapp.’

‘I am on my way.’

Twenty minutes later, he was hopping into her car, without so much as a goodbye to his friends. They both knew what was going to happen, what they had both been wanting to happen since the first day they shared a laugh together at Holiday Inn Annex.

It was like a well-rehearsed, synchronised dance. Her tank top went off at the same time that his trousers came off. While his friends were repenting of their various sexual sins, with their hands lifted up and reverent heads bowed, he was seeking refuge in the thrust of a woman’s thighs.

A distraction. An escape. Anything really to get his mind off the tumult of feelings sweeping over him.

He knew that he would probably regret it the next day but today he didn’t want to be sensible.

He wanted sexual healing.

See you next week!

P.S: When a series enters the double digits, you know we are ending that series soon. Merry Christmas, guys. Stay safe ❤