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Happy Wednesday, guys!
First of all, Let me sincerely apologise to all of you for the huge unannounced break. Some things came up. I missed you guys. And I’m hoping that my return isn’t a 9-day wonder. In fact, I’m back for good. Belated happy birthday going out to the following people; Vanessa Ampah, Joselyn Adibrosu, Osei-Tutu Boakye, Vanas Ansah, Sedi Quashigah, Bridget Atoklo, takes deep breath Henry Nii Odai Mensah, Jill Kukua Donkoh who doubles as my little sister, Joyce Aba Fynn and the list is endless. Please forgive me if I didn’t remember your name. I’m psyched. I’m allowed to talk plenty today because of the long break. But let’s get to reading then, shall we?
He wasn’t your average Ghanaian boy. Aside the fact that he didn’t suit the stereotype surrounding ewe boys, he was a whole lot different from all the other “normal” Ghanaian boys who paraded the streets of Accra.
He had style when he wanted to. And he was classy when he wanted to be. He was jovial when he wanted to be and that was all the time -well almost all the time. Almost everyone who knew him outside family had never seen him angry before. It was a rare thing. He had straightened himself out in that right not to ever get angry. Emotion to him was very very limiting and anger was the most pointless emotion.
He had come home for the weekend with little knowledge that it was going to be a very odd one. Whoever was put in charge of fate, had very bad timing if you ask me.
As if being forced to attend all those weddings weren’t enough, he had to listen to all this “yabbing” as he liked to call it, on their way home. His mother was quite a character. She actually had a list of weddings she had to attend for every Saturday. What Makafui couldn’t wrap his head around was how his mother had come to know all of those people getting married.
He was to discover later in life that, his mum didn’t always know the people organising the weddings she attended. They were sometimes just friends of friends. And other times, she stumbled on invites and flyers.
He cursed his stars for being such a great listener. He’d always been his mother’s favorite pick to go along on the torturous trip.
But that wasn’t his headache this weekend. He’d somehow gotten used to the adrenaline rush. Moving from wedding to wedding. Changing attires in the car and most of the time holding the steering as his mother would reapply her make-up.
This particular weekend had a certain “unexplainability” to it. Like how emotions started rushing in when he got home. It was sadness, then anger, then irritability then confusion and the whole process would start all over again.
There was no explanation to why he felt the way he did. Or why he began to question everything. Like why was the sky blue? He wasn’t even sure what he was even feeling at times. At other times the questions he had were ridiculous, then he’d question the thought and ask who determined what was ridiculous or not.
School wasn’t going too well and he was hoping to take a break from all that. The drama, assignments and all. He always wondered why the mid semester wasn’t given as a week off in the university, instead was used as a time to write tests. It was silly.
Nothing made sense anymore. And now he was getting more angry than any of the other emotions. For some odd reason. He didn’t know why.
He could feel the bile rising up his throat and the indignation welling up within.
It was an uneasy feeling- having no control and no answers. He didn’t understand what was going on and he didn’t even know how it began. Was it the long list of weddings he graced with his uninvited presence or it was when he had to fight with his little sister over the TV remote?
Nothing made sense anymore. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have wanted to end it all.
But you see, solutions come from the strangest places especially when we’re not looking. And just the *pidgin phrase *”God dey” from a friend who had become no more than a contact in his phonebook.
They’d be talking about God-knows-what the previous day and well, he decided to continue the conversation. The phrase had never made more sense than at that moment.
If ever a two hour sermon could be put into two words, it was in the phrase which can also pass for a sentence, “God dey”…
Thanks for making it thus far. Let’s meet in the comment section then?
*Pidgin- A type of broken English spoken mainly in Nigeria and Ghana.
*God dey- There’s God.