The Silent Housewife III – #FinishtheStoryFriday


Initially, I had no plans of killing Ola but the thought of poisoning him had never sounded this exciting to me. I know. Don’t judge me. These thoughts are even new to me but the more I meditate on it, the more excellent it feels. Don’t get me wrong. I love Ola. Well, I did until recently.  Killing him will solve most of my problems. I won’t see his ugly face anymore and I will gain the respect of my daughter.

I still prepare Ola’s meals even though he selects the days he wants to eat them but the truth is, I really don’t care. Even if he doesn’t take the poisoned meal tonight, he might take it the next day and I would be a free woman. Those thoughts gladden my heart.

“Would you really kill your husband, Mrs. Obiagwu?” Mrs. ‘perfect’ marriage counsellor’s question jostled me from my evil…

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Face-to-Face with Macho

I went to Kantomanto to get a new shirt and a pair of shoes for the meeting with the guys. The guys met every Saturday night to either watch the European League on the Bar’s large screen or drink beer and “domedo,” and argue about anything and everything. Last week’s meeting was fun especially when my team won their match. Of course that earned me the bragging right and throughout the night I kept buying more beer for the guys.

This weekend’s meeting is going to be different because Kofi is going to introduce a couple ladies from his office to us. It’s not going to be just the usual drink and “domedo” or football with the guys but we are going to have some pretty ladies on our table. Who knows? One of them will make me change my relationship status – from single to married.  I love being the eligible bachelor. I enjoy the stares I get from ladies every time I walk into a room. Yeah, I know I am handsome and I have style plus I have a lot of money to spend. A few ladies have shown interest but sometimes I feel I am not ready to settle just yet. I guess you must be wondering what I am doing in Katamanto,  if I claim to have so much money.

Well, Katamanto is where I can get original “G-Star” t-shirts. I don’t trust the guys who sell them in the boutiques. I think most of them get their stuff from Togo and after one wash, the design peels off. I have stopped taking chances that is why I am headed to my friend in the market who sells original “G-star” t-shirt at an amazing prize.

It looked like God was angry today because the sun was scorching. It almost burnt my delicate skin.  Sometimes I hate the weather in this country especially when it’s extremely hot like today but I need to look great for the meet-up. I walked straight to my guy’s stall to get my stuff and I got a cool deal. I strolled to the roadside afterwards and flagged my hand to stop a taxi. I told him where I was headed and he agreed to drive me there.

The journey was quite smooth, once in a while we passed comments about the political discussion being transmitted on the radio and I realized

the taxi driver and I shared almost the same opinion over issues. There were no stops mainly on the road because it was a weekend and in a few minutes, we were in front of my house. I bundled my shoes and shirt at the back of the seat, took my wallet out and asked the driver for the fare. He mentioned 20 cedis. I told him I was going to pay 8 cedis because that was the amount I usually paid from Kantamanto to my house.  He insisted 20 cedis and he was going to take nothing else.

“I am not going pay anything more than 8 cedis.” I said, trying to feign calmness.

We kept going back and forth till the driver jumped out of his seat and walked to my side of the car. He opened my door and pulled me off the seat. That was when I realized how the driver was infuriated. He was tall and muscular too. He could easily win the Mr Ghana contest.  He got hold of shirt and raised me high in the air. I became more confused when I felt a punch landing on my lips. I wasn’t too sure if my tooth had fallen off but I could taste blood in my mouth. I tried screaming for help but I was too shy to do that. A lot of people in my neighbourhood respect and admire me not only for my looks but for my wealth (Yeah, I know you are tired of hearing that). Before I could think of what to do next, the driver slipped his hands into my jeans pocket and took out my wallet. He pulled out the last 20 cedis I had and threw my wallet on the road and gave me another punch in my stomach before he dropped me on the ground.

He walked into the taxi and started the ignition. He looked at me lying on and the ground and screamed, “This long journey you want to pay 8 cedis, never try playing smart.  See your ugly face, foolish man.”

And with those words he drove off. I don’t know which stung more: the punches or insults.

The Visit to Flagstaff House :)

Flagstaff House

Flagstaff House- photo

Have you ever been to the Flagstaff House, the seat of presidency of Ghana? I doubt you have ever had that experience but what will you do when your boss calls you unexpectedly and invites you for a programme which was going to take place at the presidency? Of course, I know you. I know you will hardly give it any thought. You will immediately jump at the idea without even finding the aim of the programme you are attending.

“What else will I need? A passport, an id? Anything?” You will ask yourself anxiously. From the look of things, you will not sleep the night before the programme. Immediately, you will log into your Facebook account and update your status, “Meeting with the President tomorrow.”

“Promising you updates from my Flagstaff House Visit.” You will put on Twitter and on Instagram.

Finally, it’s Friday. The day you get to enter the Flagstaff House. You will put on your best dress and the shoes you take to church. Indeed, you will want to look your best, in case there is some international press. You will even take pictures of yourself and tweet, “How do I look? Meeting the President of Ghana today.”

You meet up with the rest of the group and you finally get to know the purpose of programme. The aim is, one of the richest people in Africa is launching a programme for the youth.

“Who cares?” You will think to yourself. All you care about will be  the fact that you get to enter the Flagstaff House and see the President of your homeland, this time not on television screen but in person. You know how you love to brag to your friends about being the first person to do anything. Your friends are already in trouble. They will not hear the end of it. At least for the next year.

When you enter the Flagstaff House, you will be amazed at the magnificent edifice. Who built it actually? You will think to yourself but I know you. You don’t care. The most important thing is that it has been built and you are visiting it for the first time.  You will get to the reception and your bags will be searched. You will get to the second security point and your bags will even be searched more thoroughly. The security men will take all the electric devices you have on you. You will be worried because you cannot update your Facebook and Twitter pages. You know some of your friends will actually doubt you are meeting with the president. As usual, you will say to yourself, “Who cares?”

You are about entering the meeting room, where you will finally meet the President of your motherland. This is the icing on your cake, the main topic for your discussion tomorrow when you meet up with the girls:). A tap on your shoulder will suddenly jostle you from your day-dream and bring you back from cloud nine.

“What?” You will ask with a slight frown on your face.

“There are too many people in the meeting room, I am sorry we cannot accommodate any more of you.” The policeman will respond.

Before you will digest the news entirely, another policeman will appear from nowhere and start shoving you from the corridor. “Please move. We don’t allow people to stand in the corridors.”

You will be whisked away by the men in uniform and your dream of meeting with the president will forever remain a figment of your imagination.

“What updates will I give to my Twitter followers and Facebook fans?” You will think to yourself.




A Petition to FIFA -from the Concerned Non-Football Lovers Assoc.(CoNFLA)


Dear FIFA,

My name is Miss Dee, member and secretary to the Concerned Non-Football Lovers Association (CoNFLA). Well, from our name, you may think we hate the game of football but that is not the case. We do not hate it. We are rather not too passionate about it. Below are a few recommendations you may want to look at, if you want to catch the attention of members of the association (WARNING – don’t think we form  the minority; you should ask round, there are so many of us).

So FIFA, first of all, members of CoNFLA believe the 32 teams that are selected to contest for the World cup are just too many. Why do we say that? We sat down to watch the games and we thought genuinely, some teams know their strengths. Deep down in their hearts, they know they can never lift the trophy. We got amazed when the anthems of these nations were sang and they shut their eyes as if they were going to play really hard and lift the cup on the final day but FIFA, since you started organizing this World Cup from 1930, has there ever been a surprise? Has any other country won apart from those who have the track records? So what is CoNFLA saying about this? We are saying you should use your discretion to select two nations from Europe, two from South America, two from Asia and the USA. Initially, we thought you should select two from Africa but you can use your discretion here too. You can make it one or even not select an African country. Yes, we know we are Africans and from our performance at previous and the just ended tournaments, trust us, we won’t mind if we do not make the final cut. The other option we would like to recommend is for you to invite teams that have won trophies in previous tournaments. They are the ones who will certainly lift the trophy. Or you don’t think so?

Our second recommendation is to use one week for the World Cup instead of the entire month. When you select just eight teams, it means we will start from the quarter finals. Won’t that be great? It will even be more exciting for the fans and the footballers. They will have enough rest and it’s likely none will sustain any injury and members of CoNFLA will not be forced to watch football for an entire month. Even if you like, don’t show the matches on television. Just announce to us who the winner was, in a press conference. We will appreciate that very much.

FIFA, if you take the above recommendations then you may not need these ones but if you still decide to go with the 32 teams then please, from the quarter finals stage onwards, any team that concedes more than two goals should be fined; they should only be pardoned if they play penalties. In this case, a country like Brazil which conceded about 10 goals in their past two games should be fined $10000 per goal. So FIFA let’s multiply that by ten and see how much FIFA will earn. Brazil did not only embarrass themselves but they also blocked the chances of 28 other nations who would have performed better (maybe). This is something you may really want to consider.

We also heard you do not allow interferences from countries in football administration. FIFA, this is an area you should consider amending. Why? Because the teams are representing us, we support them with our money,time, our hearts and  all our emotions. Yes, including members of CoNFLA. When our nations are playing, we really sit behind our television sets to support them. So why are you saying we shouldn’t interfere, eh? Give us reasons. Why shouldn’t we sack these administrators and footballers or even beat them up if we feel they are not living up to task? Oh, don’t think we will lynch them; we will only have a system where each member of the team plus the administrators will receive a few lashes from the strongest man in the country. That will not kill them. We know they are strong, or?  We thought the Nigerian approach was great till you decided to sanction them. Just allow us to give it a try, only for a year and let’s see the outcome.

Anyway, FIFA, we are about to begin our second meeting. This time we are going to discuss how some rules in football should be changed in order to make the game more interesting to attract members of our association. Trust CoNFLA, we will not leave you in the dark.

Thank you.

Vodafone Ghana Network Fall


ultimateI am a loyal customer of the above network. I woke up today, took my phone and was about checking the number of whatsapp messages I had missed while asleep, when I realized there was no network signal. I could only see Emergency Calls Only, boldly registered on my phone screen. I thought my phone was playing tricks on me. I switched it off and back on, and it still had Emergency Calls Only. Worried, I switched my phone off again and started preparing for work  (It normally takes 30 minutes to do that). All this while my phone was off. When I was about setting off, I switched my phone on and the network signal was not back. I put my phone off for the fourth time in one morning, took the battery and the sim card out, cleaned my phone thoroughly,inserted the battery and sim card and switched my phone on and to my frustration, there was still no signal. I became agitated, thinking my phone had developed a fault.

I planned on using the office line to call the Vodafone customer care line and to express my exasperation. When I got to the office and took the office line , which unfortunately was another Vodafone line, there was no network signal. There, I became convinced it was not my phone that had developed a fault, but it could be a network failure.

But thanks to the wireless internet service (which is not Vodafone), I could access my Facebook page and still do some work online. For some strange reason, it has never occurred to me to visit the Vodafone Ghana Page on Facebook, but today, I visited it and to my amusement, customers are lambasting the network provider for what the network provider is describing as “a wide nation power outage” as the cause of what customers are describing.

Here are some of the comments I found.

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Short Story: I woke up MARRIED!

Photo credit-

Photo credit-


Asantewaa woke up one morning startled. There was man lying on her bed snoring. She lifted her upper body and looked at the man trying to figure out who he was. She tapped him on the shoulder but he did not move. She shook him, a little harder now. He woke up and stared at her totally dismayed, maybe a little annoyed. He rubbed his eyes with his fist as if rubbing off the sleep too.

Asantewa asked, “Who are you?’

The man gazed at her, more bewildered by the question than being woken up so early.

“Asantewaa, what is happening?” He managed to say.

“What is your name and what are you doing on the bed?” She repeated the question, louder this time. He looked at her and smiled. She  repeated the question the third time and at this, he sat up straight,

“You are joking right?”  He asked, puzzled.

“I am serious.” She replied sternly, “Who are you and what are you doing on the bed with me?”

He shook his head as if trying to properly arrange her question in his mind. “I am your husband and this is our home.” He answered simply.

“You are my what?” She screamed.

“We are married.” He answered simply.

“How, when and  where was that?” Asantewaa asked, louder.

” We got married in your church. On the 14th of March.” Asantewa tried estimating the number of years she  has been married, but she couldn’t remember.

“How many years have we been married?” She asked him. Before he could reply, a girl of about four years entered the room. Asantewaa grew curious. She asked her ‘husband.’

“Who is this?” She asked, pointing to the girl who has just entered the room.

“Will you cut the jokes. I think you are beginning to get on my nerves” Her ‘husband’ replied. She could now sense his irritation.

“I am not joking.” She replied. ” I seriously do not remember you or our marriage or her.” She added, pointing to the little girl. He heaved a sigh and replied slowly, “That is our daughter. She is four years old.”

Asantewa  looked at the little girl who came running to her, calling her mummy. The little girl gave her a hug and the sweetest smile she had ever seen. She asked Asantewa to help her prepare for school. What a morning? Asantewaa said to herself. First this man claims she was his wife and now, this little girl is implying she is her mum.

Her ‘husband’ was now sitting quietly, deep in thoughts, trying to decipher if something bad had happened to his wife. He looked worried. Asantewa jumped from the bed with the little girl pulling her away.

The man held her dress and asked, “Asantewa, are you serious about this whole dimentia thing? Don’t you remember us or the marriage or her?” He asked.  “Should we see a doctor?”

She looked at him and asked again, “What did you say your name was? And what is her name?”

The man looked at Asantewa sadly, but replied, “We have to see a doctor. Did you hit your head against anything?”

He walked towards his wife and started examining her forehead. Before Asantewa could stop him, the little girl started pulling her away,  insisting she goes to help her prepare for school.

Asantewa repeated her question, “What is her name again?” Pointing to the little girl. She could see tears welling up in the eyes her husband’s eye.

Maybe she had taken this joke too far, she asked, “Kweku, what is today’s date?”

He looked up, sat still for a few seconds and replied, ” 1st April.”