What was said.. The Dialogue.

hello! Rowie here! just dropping this dialogue… i co wrote it with somebody.. ok done here… going away… bye…


Her: In a whisper “You should have just asked”

Him: “what?”

Her: “I said, you should have just asked. I would have helped. I would have been there for you”

Him: “I didn’t know… I didn’t think it was important enough… I didn’t think you would make the trip… I thought”

Her: “Next time, don’t think.”

Him: “what?”

Her: “Next time, don’t think through it, don’t weigh the pros and cons, and don’t measure the need. Don’t think. Just do. Just call me”

Him: “I’m sorry”

Her: “don’t be silly! Foolish boy…. As if you don’t have a phone too!”  What happened to the iPhone 4S I bought you?!”

Him: “Oh.. hmmm.. it fell in the water when I was bathing…”

Her: “herh! Kwassiaaa!….. 800 Ghana cedis t) nsuom?!….. We are through!

Him: “Oh don’t say that, I beg!…. I’ll buy you Akorno for the whole week!

Her: “I don’t like that nasty food!… Buy me Dynasty Chinese!

Him: “ Okay, okay…. Oh my God! There is a big stone falling from the sky coming to crash into the world! Looooook”

Her:  “ Oh noooooo!!!… I’m Sooooo……..”    BOOOOOOOM!!!!!

(The world has endeeeeed!


He Came.

Another guest post! :D. this is a sequel to ‘She Waited’ by Nyameye. we wanted a happier ending and Okundayor delivered.

Read ‘She Waited‘ first on Nyameye’s blog and visit Okundayor’s blog too. enjoy and comment!! 😀


He stood in one spot as bodies rushed around him in different directions. Everything was haywire, confusing. People hurried towards him, from behind him and across from him without so much as an “excuse me”.

“Sorry…sorry…oops I’m sorry…” He kept muttering as he tried to get out of their way. No one bothered.

He looked around him. It seemed he was on some sort of sidewalk. A few meters to his left, there were cars tightly packed in a traffic jam. Cars honked, drivers shouted insults to other drivers, demanding they move faster. He noticed more people were moving ahead of him than in the opposite direction. Some of them were shouting. Others were jogging lightly. There were too many people outside, especially since it was raining, he reasoned. Something must be holding up the traffic, something up ahead. He began to move, slowly at first, following the crowd. Soon, he too was caught up in a light jog. Maneuvering his way in this thick crowd seemed pretty easy, he thought, slightly surprised. But he didn’t bother about that. Before long he was there. The crowd wasn’t moving anymore, they just stood there, staring at something. What was that? Too many people were talking; he couldn’t make sense out of what they were saying.

“…these trotro drivers…” he heard someone say in Ga.

“…it was all too fast!” another person said, this time in Twi.

“…the poor man…” he heard yet another.

What was going on? He thought to himself. He made his way to the front of the crowd, not knowing what to expect. Had there been a fight? A robbery? Finally he came out from behind a plump looking woman at the front of the crowd. He saw…nothing. There was nothing there. He was confused. Why were these people standing around in a circle looking at nothing? He shook his head. He turned to the woman next to him.

“Excuse me, what is going on he-“ before he finished, she just turned and left with not so much as a glance at him. He creased his eyebrows. That was rude. Or maybe she didn’t understand English? He turned to a man next to him. He was an old man; thin, smallish, very frail. He decided to try twi this time.

“Uncle please what happened here?” he inquired. The man did not turn. Maybe he didn’t hear him. He tried again, louder this time. “Uncle! Uncle, please what happened here?” Still the man did not even acknowledge his presence. What was wrong with these people?

Something on the ground caught his eye. Something was flowing at his feet. Water, of course…it was raining. But the water looked different. He would have written it off as dirty water, but dirty water wasn’t red, was it? His eyes traced the discolored flow to its source, and without thinking, his feet followed. The red color deepened as he moved. Soon he was in the middle of the crowd which was slowly dispersing. Finally he stopped. He gaped slowly. He had never seen so much blood in his life!

Suddenly he understood. There had been an accident.

There had been an accident earlier and probably the body had been taken away. One of the people had said it was a man. Was he okay? Or, worse, was he dead? With the amount of blood he was looking at, the man probably was. How awful, he thought, one minute you’re alive and planning your next moment, and the next minute you’re gone. He looked around. What was he doing here anyway? And where was this place? He couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed familiar. Well, he’d better try and find his way home.


He didn’t know where that was. He looked down at himself. He was in a suit. A suit? Was he from work? A party? He couldn’t remember either. Who was he? He couldn’t even remember his name! A wave of panic suddenly struck him. What was all this? He rushed to the other side of the road. The cars had started to move more freely now. He tried to stop a woman passing by.

“Excuse me which area is this?” he asked desperately. She walked right past.

He turned to another woman, “Please where is thi-“  and she also went by without turning.

He tried yet again, his voice louder than the last time, “Sir, where is this?” No response.

Confusion and desperation written all over his face, he looked up to the skies, half hoping an answer would drop. Nothing happened. Well, I wasn’t like he was really expecting some arrow to point out an answer. Slowly he dropped his head with a sigh. And that’s when he saw the necklace.

Her necklace. Lying on the ground, blood soaked. She had given it to him the last time they were together. She had told him she was leaving. She would not be back for a long time. He needed something to remember her by, and that’s when she took off the silver necklace with the heart-shaped pendant and put it around his neck. He had never taken it off since. Unconsciously his fingers crawled up to his neck. Bare.

And that’s when it all came back to him.

The phone call.

Her pleading voice.

His date’s angry cries.

The trotro headlights.


And the next thing he knew, he was on that sidewalk, wondering where he was. He knew now. He understood it all now. Why it was so easy to pass through the crowd. Why the people he talked to didn’t talk back. Why the necklace was on the ground blood soaked. He had been in that accident. He was that man. He was dead.

He felt nothing, for some strange reason, after he came to that realization. All he had was questions. What happened after the crash? How much time had passed? Where was his body? Where was she? Did she know? She was the only thing on his mind at this point. He needed to find her. He needed to see if she was okay. He noticed he was moving, very fast, almost as if he was flying between the people on the streets. And he knew where he was going. It was as if he could move at will. He thought of her and suddenly he was heading towards where she was. He was there in a matter of seconds. He saw her, some yards away. Sitting quietly on the bench, huddled in her soaked jacket, rocking back and forth in an attempt to keep warm. She looked beautiful, even with her hair looking like a soaked fowl. His lips formed a sad smile. She was still waiting. She didn’t know.

She checked her phone, sighed and put it back. Almost immediately she picked it up again and dialed a number. He knew she was calling him. He moved close to her.

He could hear the operator, “The number you have dialed is either switched o-“ she silenced her with a frustrated stab of her finger. “Where are you?” she muttered.

“I’m here.” He answered softly, as if she could hear him, but she couldn’t.

A cold gust of wind blew again, and she shivered. He couldn’t keep her warm. It pained him. And suddenly she began to cry. Soft whimpers escaped from her mouth, soon turning into sobs that racked her tiny frame. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe she should go home. He’d never stood her up. Never. Then she wiped her face. No. She won’t doubt him. “He’ll be here,“ she convinced herself, “he’ll be here.”

They sat there in silence. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted her to know. That he still had feelings for her. But he couldn’t. He stared at her, studying every detail of her face. Angles and ridges he knew so well. How many portraits had he painted of her? How many sculptures had he molded, blindfolded? Yet she didn’t know.

Her phone rang. She sat up abruptly. An unknown number. Her frozen fingers struggled to hit the answer button. Finally she had it.

“Hello?” she answered shakily.

“Akosua Boahene?” the caller inquired

“Yes? This is she…who is this please?”

“Do you know one Kweku Agyemang?”

“Yes I do. Who is this?”

“I’m calling from the Korle Bu hospital. I’m afraid he was involved in a serious accident about an hour ago. We are trying to reach anyone in his family and you were listed in that circle in his phonebook. Can you please come over and identify the victim? ”


“Hello? Hello?”

She didn’t hear anything after the word “accident”. Kweku was dying, Kweku was dead…


“Ye- yes…I’m here. I- I will be over immediately.” She whispered and hung up. She was stunned. Her body went limp. So many emotions took over her. All at the same time, yet each one was distinct. Sadness, rage, hopelessness, shock, regret…

“I didn’t even get to tell you…”she whispered into the air, “I love you, Kweku…”

His head snapped up. She loved him. She loved him! Yet it was too late…

Suddenly everything started spinning. Faster and faster, he couldn’t make out anything. The trees, the bench, the road, the people, her…all of it became one big blur. Then there was darkness.


Beep. Beep. Beep.

“…looks like he’s stabilizing, sir…”

“…run a few more tests…”

Sniff, sniff…

“…dear God, please…”

He could hear all sorts of sounds and whispers, but all he could see was darkness. Bit by bit his body became aware of its surroundings. Someone was holding his hand. He was lying on a bed. He could hear people walking around. Where am I? He thought to himself. He struggled to open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy. The light was too bright. He felt drowsy. He shut them again and drifted slowly back into the darkness.

Time passed. He became aware of his surroundings again. This time there was silence. Except for the constant sniffing and the beeping. Someone was whispering. He couldn’t hear what. His eyes opened a little more easily this time. Things were blurry at first, there was a dark figure looming over him. His vision cleared, and he could tell what it was. It was a feminine figure. An all too familiar feminine figure. It was her, Akosua.

She noticed he was awake. Her eyes, puffy from crying and still glossed with tears, lit up.

“Kweku-“ she started and her voice cracked. She could not choke back the tears so she let them flow freely. She leaned down to hug him. Slowly and painfully he wrapped his weak arms around her, tightening his grip with every second. All was understood.       (10 July 2012)

Plates of Woe

we have an anonymous guest today!! why he has chosen to remain anonymous, no one knows ‘cos his work is good. but.. as always, i aim to please so i’ll let him feel free in his anonymity. enjoy and comment!! – Rowie 🙂

UPDATE!!! the guest is Delali Vorgbe follow him on twitter @ef0_delali 


During the second to last week of last semester, I took a much-dreaded trip to a bank in the ‘city’, from the amazing ‘village’ of Berekuso. ‘Much dreaded’ for a number of reasons: first, I was reluctant to leave the cool, serene village for the hustle of hot Accra. Second, I was definitely not looking forward to the long tro-tro ride I had to take into town. Regardless, I took a trot down one of the two paths that slither down the Ashesi hill into the village to find a car.

Now, one of my roommates and myself have christened the mentioned paths, by courtesy of a certain Buckminster [of Ice Age II], ‘The Chasm of Death’ and ‘The Plates of Woe’. Obviously, by their names, crossing these paths is no cheap task. A trip down The Plates of Woe will take you across slippery rock, smoothened by the friction of shoe sole against stone, and a vast expanse of steep flat earth with no vegetation to hang on to for support. Frankly hoofs, if you could grow any, would come in quite handy. Otherwise, if you were insane enough to travel The Chasm of Death, you would encounter an erosion-fashioned abyss that stretches for miles [ok maybe a few hundred feet], with jagged rock jutting out of the earth on either side, apparently not for footholds but to pull the unsuspecting traveller into the belly of its abyss. Between death and woe, I chose the latter… Tough choice. Okay, I must mention, albeit reluctantly, that you could simply walk down the nicely tarred road that leads from the school into the village. But that doesn’t come without risks either. If you were overcome by stupidity and took that route, you could suffer err…yes, a muscle cramp. So between death, woe, and a muscle cramp, I still went with woe. [Enter Plates of Woe]

Down in the village, and with a fresh lesson in rock skiing in the bag, I joined a taxi to Abuom junction. The trip was one not over road, but over moon craters in a vehicle that was no moon rover. At Abuom junction, I joined the first tro-tro I found going my way. As I climbed aboard and made my way through the labyrinth of foldable seats and spears [what else do you call a metallic shaft with a pointed tip?], to the back of the vehicle, a thought crossed my mind- If we crashed into anything, being impaled by spears would probably be the least gruesome of my injuries. Next after me, a woman with three children in her wake, all of them younger than seven years old, climbed aboard. She was having difficulty making sure her children were not killed as they maneuvered their way around, over, and under obstacles in the metal and foam forest they had just ventured into. As this woman got off the bus somewhere in Dome, the smile she wore clad her frail body with more dignity than the kabba and slit that hung loosely around her figure. She either was a content Ghanaian woman, or a black Japanese royal skilled in the art of emotion hiding. Hmm… hard to tell.

Over at the bank, I was entering a rage. The debit card I had run down The Plates of Woe, travelled across moon craters, and rode in a metallic contraption that looked like some device of torture from the mind of Jigsaw for, was not ready. What was more, the banking hall official seemed to think it would suffice to apologize for the bank’s abysmal service. It had been a month and a half since I had put in the request and paid for the card. I ranted for a full five minutes, and being able to do little else, was on my way back to Berekuso.

Back at Abuom junction, I joined a taxi whose door wouldn’t close unless The Incredible Hulk took his foot to it. Worse, it wouldn’t open from inside because there didn’t even exist a handle. As I travelled once again over moon craters, sitting as far from the defective door as I could while inadvertently restricting the driver’s ability to switch between gears, I realized I had travelled down The Plates of Woe more times than one that day. Funny thing was, like the woman who was clearly used to the life-threatening trip with her kids, I was tired of complaining. I had begun to accept it as the way things were in this country. That is my greatest worry now- that we will, as a country, come to accept that no other path but the Plates of Woe lies before us, and taking it is our best bet at moving forward. That accepting mediocrity is what has to be done, because for us nothing else exists.

As the taxi bumped on, I took out my not blackberry cell phone to start writing this post, and watched as my network bars disappeared at a rate of 1 per every 200metres closer to Berekuso I got- another trip down those damned plates! Climbing back up the hill to school via the now all too familiar plates, while making a sound like one out of Darth Vader’s mask, I thought to myself: “A trip down that Chasm of Death couldn’t possibly be any worse after all.”