November 13, 2013Posted by on
In this cold switch room and wondering why I ever wanted to be on a project team and why aren’t women allowed to be themselves?
Why can’t a woman be followed on twitter because she is hilarious? Or has dope tweets? Must a woman’s worth or appeal always be measured based on her beauty?
Why can’t a woman love sex and be open about it? Why can’t she be a happy freak and not be judged? Why are women called hoes and men applauded?
Why do women pull themselves down? Why do we as men not treat them as our equals and partners? Why do we treat them as if they are replaceable?
Women should and need to be there for each other. Stop calling each other names for doing the same thing you do. Bringing someone down to feel good only lasts that long.
Men should treat women better, respect them and see them as equals and partners and not as easily replaceable beings. We shouldn’t mess with their egos and sense of self worth. A woman is more than the physical.
Women should feel free in their sexuality, they should be able to express themselves without shame and name calling. She should be able to tell her partner what she likes and how she wants it without fear of him or her judging her.
Beauty, beauty, beauty. How do you measure it? Which one is measured? the fades with age? Or the one that is seen even in the most ugly moments of times? Is it a smile or an act? Is it the flesh? Body shape? Bust or ass? Why should that define a woman? Why not what she does and her potential?
I am guilty of this the most and this cold has me asking myself why, why do I view women as purely physical. What about the spiritual, intellect, social being?
Women are just like men, same feelings and same intellect.
Oh and why do A cups get the most grief?
November 9, 2013Posted by on
Let’s face it: whoever the love of your life will be, there’s an 80% chance she’s a ho. It’s not something you look for, but it is what it is. Chances are, she’s gonna continue ho-ing even after you show her your akuma mu fitaa. It’s not that she’s wicked, it’s just the way she has been; character is hard to break. This piece should probably be titled, How to Love a Ho, except guys are hoes too (appropriate plural form?? *checks urbandictionary.com*). So instead, we’ll call it How to Love With Your Head.
So why love a ho in the first place? This is because A. They are goddamn exciting, B. There’s a male gene that tingles when she goes ‘fuck them other niggaz cos I’m down for my nigga, and C. Good girls are boring. A smart nigga will say A = C, yeah I know. You are exactly the type of guy I wrote this piece for.
Truthfully, niggaz don’t start out looking for a ho to love, they just want their 3 points and continue to the next one. But the way some hoes are built, niggaz just wanna try saving them, and end up falling instead. Then they gotta endure some bullshit purse-carrying waiting-for-her-as-she-sucks-someother-nigga-dry kinda lifestyle. Ok, maybe not that extreme, but you see where I am going right?
Ok, lets start. First of all you gotta admit she’s a ho. It doesn’t matter whether you met in church or your other nigga passed her on to you. Then you gotta let her know that you know. That right there is the lynch pin. If a ho stays after this, then you aight. If she doesn’t, LET HER GO. That ho ain’t for you. If you don’t, you are the purse-carrying type of guy. Period.
While you are with that ho, she will pull some fast ones on you. You gotta be faster. This is an endurance test. You gotta know which stories are before your time and which are likely to be current. SHE WILL CHEAT. This is a fact. If you don’t like it, don’t love a ho.
They say love is nothing without trust. Well, use your head. Put your hoe-ish gf on a weekend away with some dudes, and see if you still believe that mantra. Let her see your options. This is a tried and tested way to keep a ho on lockdown. Hoes are like kids with ADHD, you need to keep them interested. She needs to feel like she has to protect her territory from predatory hoes. But u need to cut her some slack to let her know she winning so she doesn’t turn around a wanna pay you back like for like. This stuff gets to be like an art form.
Lastly, no matter how much you want, let her initiate most of the sappy couple things, but participate fully. You gotta keep your tiger spots but make em soft like sheepskin. If you’ve been following by now, you’d know what I mean.
There you have it. Use your head at all times. It ain’t easy loving a ho, but somebody gotta do it. If it’s you, better do it right and keep your chin up amongst guys who’ve probably fucked her before.
September 28, 2013Posted by on
Think what you want but I swear I’m not a bad boy
Yes, oh it’s true
That’s why I check out nudes, not porn
That’s why I say sex, not fuck
Let me tell you a story of the first time I watched porn. I will not say how old I was, but I will say I only knew the willy was for peeing behind the gate where my mother will not see and chase me with her slippers for not using the toilet bowl. “Use it but don’t flush. We don’t know when next water will stop flowing” you see, water flow was a large part of my life. But I digress.
Yes, so I was taking a nap in our sofa. I am not a particularly light sleeper. Even at this age, I sleep deep with all the problems of early adulthood on my mind. And neither do I wake gently like the little boy in that Dustin Powder advert on GBC TV. I wake noisily; announce my presence with yawns and stretches and tiny farts that don’t stink. This time, lying in the sofa, I awoke fully but quietly; eyelids sprang open and I saw an erect penis enter a wet vagina.
You are either disgusted or aroused
Oh yes it’s true
That’s why they say we are basically animals
That’s why I claim I’m not a bad boy
And I kept my eyes open. Drinking in the sights and sounds; skills and positions that I don’t even know the names for as at now (you see that I’m not a bad boy?). You may ask how the porn came to be on the TV. I will not name names or hint any persons, but what I did know then with certainty was that, whoever it was that was breathing heavily in the sofa at the end of my feet would flay the skin from my living body if I so much as twitched to betray my wakefulness.
‘And so the boy grew in wisdom and in stature…and knew all manner of things’—that wasn’t me. I grew, but not with those adjectives. My mama and dada plays took on new dimensions but I still went to Sunday School faithfully (you see how much of a good boy I am?). Though I was a virgin, and she was not, I did surprise my first lover with how much I knew (stop smiling we all did it, I’m as good as you are). “ei [insert my real name] you know how to do it papa. You are a bad boy”, said the girl who wasn’t a virgin when she took mine.
I know what u are thinking now
Oh yes, I’m clever like that
That’s why people think I’m good
That’s why I still lead choir at church
I will not tell you the journeys I’ve taken in the world of porn. Suffice it to say when a thing becomes overwhelming, some men either become addicted or gain a sort of immunity. Guess which category I belong to…. Yes you guessed right!
I am not a bad boy.
I Know a lot of us can relate to this. Please do comment and share your thoughts
September 27, 2013Posted by on
Boyz Boyz no be family
What is this thing anyways?
This connection between guys who have lived together or chilled together for a while. You know some my dirty secret and i know yours.
But we all obey the unwritten code.
‘MAKE U NO BROWN’
Boyz Boyz dey talk
So why we still dey do am?
It can’t be the need for human connection, cos we have girls. If e figga say nobody go barb am, e go talk your yawa for some place.
Still we no dey hear. Small thing norr
‘CHALE MAKE I TELL U SONTIN’
Boyz Boyz make agrε
But y u no lockdown the chick before u intro am give boyz?
Some guy just wan chop ur chick den laugh for back. Same niggaz go throw the chick give u but them still dey back. If yawa pai norr
‘DOGG THAT CHICK SHE NO DEY BI SEF’
Boyz Boyz go link u
Y u no get correct boys?
Then the rich ppl all be paddies like we o. Somebody ein uncle take my CV go some place. Me too my sis ein cousin send letter for visa for my guy bi. If everything work out well norr
‘CHALE U BE MY GUY! REAL NIGGA’
Lol boyz always dey. Whether u want it or not.
Leon sent this in, and if you really know me and how i view friendships though i am a pretty shitty one because i hardly communicate with my friends, you should be able to tell how much i like this post.
There is nothing like friendship, its a priceless gift that God gave us.
August 7, 2013Posted by on
Hello everyone. Today's Temitope's birthday. She requested a birthday favour and since that's what friends do, I decided to make her happy. She asked me to write about whether it was possible to love someone without trusting them.
I think the answer is yes and no. I wish I had someone to take up the other side of the argument with me but since this is a blog post I have to argue against myself.
July 7, 2013Posted by on
I compete with three others for my father’s attention. My mother is lovely. She… just… doesn’t have time for nonsense and usually, it is nonsense that gets attention. Sorry, I digress.
My father, at first sight he looks like your average Ghanaian male; five something tall, growing pot belly, graying hair, crow’s feet and a serious look. Oh, he’s very attractive too (a huge improvement according to my mother, over when they first met. I’ve seen pictures, I concur.) He has a job which he claims he’s tired of but which he secretly loves, a wife and children. That’s where the commonalities end.
My daddy is a sucker for beautiful things. There is not a time when he’ll pass by a beautiful building, a boutique, a restaurant and not stare or stop to buy something. He’s a flirt and knows how to get what he wants. He’s kind to a fault and although he knows my siblings and I try to con him out of money he still gives us what we ask for when he can. He laughs more than he frowns, sleeps too early and worries too much about us. It is a wonder to me how it is a wonder to people that my father and I have a relationship where I call him just to say “I love you” and he calls me because he hasn’t heard from me in three days. A relationship where he’s willing to drop everything (and he has) just to go with me to print out posters for elections, one where he’ll grumble and then come pick me up for lunch or get me lunch and drop it off at work for me. One where he’ll contact all the people he knows just to give me an opportunity to get an internship I’m interested in, where he’ll give me what I want but tell me to use trotro so I learn to manage my money, where he’ll see clothes and just because, he’ll buy them for me knowing very well that I’m tough to please and will most probably reject them (yes, I’m too known like that). It’s not all material though.
When I need a hug, he’s there. When I need support he’s there. When I need someone to listen to me and make me feel smart, he’s there. Conversation, check (not all conversations, but still, check). He cooks for us when the feeling takes over. He holds my hand in public, lets me know when I make him proud, allows me to make my own decisions and supports me. He’d rather let my mother do the scolding (his attempts are pathetic). He has weaknesses too. I hate it when he talks about marriage and refuses to acknowledge boyfriends, when he gets picky and grumpy and just doesn’t talk so we don’t even understand why he’s upset, that he cannot does not tell us when he hates what we do and worse of all, when he says “go” and calls every hour (aaaarrrgggh!!!)
But, my father‘s always there for me. By my side, leading me, granting me choice, providing my needs, listening to me when I need to talk, shows that he loves me in both small ways and big. He’s God’s representative here on earth to me.
He’s my champ, my daddy and I love him!
This was written by a lovely friend, Jessica @naa_ahiney . I asked her a Father’s day post. I think its time i shared it, i have had a week where i grew closer to my father. His words to me from way back came to haunt me, and who was there to help and support me? The very person who spoke the words of warning. I love him!
June 3, 2013Posted by on
What makes him tick?
The simple little things, listen to Natasha Bedingfield’s The Little Things to get an idea.
That dimple when he smiles
I stare at the mirror daily looking for that illusive dimple. I smile, I frown, I grin, I make silly faces until I start laughing at my silliness. Looking for something I would never find, allowing your words to bring back that silliness associated with young love. Love that does not know pain, only joy and laughter. Love which is not bounded by the impossible. Love, free to be and do all things. I have always been one to be conscious of my smile, I find it ugly because of my bloodstained teeth. The reason why I always have my head down is my smile and you see a dimple when I smile?
The sheer warmth in his simplicity
They always look through me, never seeing or understand what I stand for. The ice is not only around my heart, it’s all over me. It’s a shield, I am cold. There is nothing warm about me. I am not simple yet it’s all about the simple things for me.
The wise words embedded in his sarcasm
I don’t doubt your words, I just cannot see what you see. I guess I now understand why people ask “Why do you love me?” or “why do you want to be my friend?” . They want to know what you see in them or the reason why it has to be them. I don’t think there must be a single thing or a reason why you should be loved or why you love or want to be with someone.
Hope I find someone like you, I cannot forget these words. She wrote this while we ate the worst pasta ever!
You never miss it till it is gone
May 6, 2013Posted by on
Spent the whole day at home, watching movies and having a generally good and satisfying day. I wanted to write about Day 5 but i got lazy and the day ended without me posting.
I realised on day five that i am happy being single, i love the people in my life and feel loved back. I had a conversation on day 2 of May with a friend about the difference between love and like. We couldn’t identify what the difference was, i think we came to an agreement about what it meant personally for us. Personally the two are merged for me, i cant like you without loving you. And love here is not the “I want to spend the rest of my life with you” love. I care and genuinely wish you succeed in all that you do. Be the best in all that do kinda love.
i started this search because i wanted to single one lady out and give her my all and be her all also. I think that was wrong, i am not sure though. Is there a valid reason for wanting to be in a relationship? or a not selfish one?
I experience love each day from family and friends, Love here refers to the one without conditions and hidden agenda. People who appreciate me for being me and who don’t change into what they think I find ideal. My definition of an ideal partner is flawed simply because she is human. Humans are not perfect and i am not. Pretending to be what you are not…you will be found out one day. What are you going to do?
I’ll live my life, have fun with my friends, go out to the beach, movies, long drives, go out to eat, drink, laugh and dance the night away. I wont look for a partner, i’ll be looking to build my relationships with the people i care about. Make new friends and yes discover new places. Tired of staying at one place and moving my legs less often with each passing day, tired of locking my heart up, keeping it for that one person.
The search stops today, the blossoming of friendships starts tonight.
I said, “You are the beautiful, mistress of mathematics.”
I said, “For you, I would peel open the clouds like new fruit
And give you lightning and thunder as a dowry
I would make the sky shed all of its stars like rain
And I would clasp the constellations across your waist
And I would make the heavens your cape
And they would be pleased to cover you
They would be pleased to cover you
May I please, cover you, please”
April 8, 2013Posted by on
Lately I’ve given a lot of thought to the notion of whether it is possible to truly love someone who is from an entirely different cultural background, ethnic make up, country, belief system, continent… All you uber optimists are already answering in annoyingly high-pitched happy voices “Of course you can! Love knows no boarders.” That’s all well and dandy and quite frankly I want to believe the same thing, and I do to some extent. But hear me out.
So I’m here in the States, South African, mixed race, multi-lingual- THE WORKS! (haha) And I have made some very strong bonds with people. I’ve also made some bonds that are worse than that really cheap glue stick stuff that starts peeling the moment it dries (I digress). However, even with the strongest bonds I’ve made here there’s always a moment when I’m explaining a scenario from Shirley village, Xigodini and as much as I know I’m being heard and listened to, there’s a limit to how much I’m understood. And quite obviously so! I mean if I grew up in Boston my whole life, how could I begin to relate to a story of being pushed down a dusty hill in a wheel barrow in Shirley village? Or relate to a story of dropping a precious, brand new white sandal into a pit toilet?
I so often feel like people rather than listen to the human element of my story are too busy marveling at all the details that seem so far-fetched when sitting in South Hadley Massachusetts. “Wow! You need to go all the way outside to use the rest room?” Um, yes but fuck I was pissed about my damn sandal! It was brand new! “Wait so you mean it really doesn’t flush?” No! Gravity is our flush! But dude, I had no idea what I would tell my mum. How could I go home with one less shoe? The other girls laughed at me when they heard and I think I cried on my way home.
If I was overly dramatic I might compare the sensation to Sarah Baartman who rather than be viewed as a person with feelings and ideas was viewed as an exhibition, something to marvel at. I’m not upset about it or mad at the people who do not understand me. My closest friends try to understand and do a good job for as far as their minds’ eyes can see. Still, I’ve cut so many stories short when I wasn’t in the mood to explain sewage systems or so as not to bore anyone with fairytale-sounding stories of sitting around fires or nights under the stars. Who would be interested in hearing my favourite songs when “Maya I don’t understand anything she’s saying! But the clicking sounds so cool!” My favourite childhood games, my favourite sayings, food, memories, smells and sounds are all “fascinating!! Really? That’s sooo cool!” And yet I can relate to stories of kissing under street lights and of getting my first cellphone and of skipping class and going to the nearest store even with no money in hand.
I know that everything I’ve seen has influenced who I’ve become. If someone cannot fully understand my experiences could they fully understand me? And if not could they claim to love me? The philosopher in me asks: is it possible to love something you do not fully understand? Someone you don’t fully understand.
If I were to answer yes, my dad would perhaps be my most compelling evidence. He, although born in South Africa, spent most of his childhood in Europe and moved back to South Africa as a young adult. He is happily married now to an older African American woman who grew up in a small town in Southern USA and who had never planned for her stay in South Africa to be quite as long as it became after they met. I firmly believe that he loves her and that she loves him. I don’t know if either of them can fully relate to the other’s past but that doesn’t seem to be an issue. Or perhaps it’s that they have learnt to see each other as humans with human emotions. And perhaps only then do the gritty details of place and time matter less.
April 7, 2013Posted by on
I normally have a first class pepper soup and beer after church service at Big Wills end. It used to be a ritual until work took my most of my Sundays away. I won’t be having one today though I am in church today, why? Because i was forced to wear a super tight trouser that won’t allow me to walk from his end to the roadside.
But let me serve you guys with one, I am calling it Sunday Soup because it is still hot, we just ended with the group study of the bible passage of Nehemiah 4:1-9. It’s about how God hasn’t promised us a trouble free life as Christians, or a life without trials, tribulations and set backs. But he has assured us that we will have a better life at the end of it all. These things are meant to strengthen us and draw us closer to him.
Another thing was the mindset of the people, they had a mind to build, ie rebuild Jerusalem. They did not allow the challenges and opposition to stop them. As humans and then Christians, we should be dedicated to whatever we do. We shouldn’t be discouraged easily. We shouldn’t allow the setbacks to let us stop whatever good that we are doing. We should rather be amped to do more and better.
I have to stop writing now (offertory, bible reading and announcement are done). Either I listen to the sermon or tweet, do pray for me.