Category: Vacations


Names of “Talkatives”

That dreaded list; making our puny hearts pound like we were on a death row.
He only has to utter,“…give me the names of “talkatives” when I get back!” and a deafening silence is left in its wake. Well maybe not for long. There are those who have got guts or they just can’t help keeping a vow
of silence. The ‘traitors’ called upon to do the treacherous act of penning the names, literally and figuratively rise to the occasion, grinning from ear to ear. “I will show him/her/them wicked!” They pull out sheets from
exercise books with such loudness that could tear your heart apart and fold them into strips with the tip of their fingers like they were sharpening execution axes ruthlessly. Then they beautifully design the title “Names
of Talkatives” and set to work with one rule in mind: no culprits mean trouble.
He/she scans the classroom looking for victims. Surveillance is sometimes met with threats from daring boys with clenched fists repeatedly kissing their cheeks, invariably referring to the awaiting episode after school
in the (in)famous brawling grounds popularly known as “Atsiame”(woodlot). Adamant culprits have d.p (double punishment) splashed against their names. Stubborn ones would even ask you to write d.p against their
names once they realize their names have been inked in.
Then comes the moment of truth when the teacher walks in. Sometimes he deliberately waits a while. Sometimes he forgets till the next day. Sometimes never. But the times he does remember, it is hell for the
culprits. Pain is dished out by canes from different races that have been well bred to do their master’s bidding. Well bred in the sense that they have been drenched and dipped in all manner of preparations ranging
from water to petrol, even kept in deep freezers(!), all in the bid to increase the size, weight and girth of the canes themselves and the pain they induce. Some are draped in clothing made of different types of Scotch
tapes in assorted colours. The teacher’s pet! He even has names for them. Joe Blackie (that’s the only one I can remember cos that’s the one I feared most, hehehe). “Bring me my Joe Blackie!”
There are ways of enduring the pain. Just by adding more shorts underneath your school shorts or skirt, you can be partially or totally insulated. Or simply undertake a course in “beatings”- a game where you inflict
pain on each other, by caning, in turns, so as to get used to the pain (hehehehehe). Want to get even? Simply remember to take that piece which breaks off after you or someone has been caned and dip it in soaked
gari, overnight, when you get home. Don’t be surprised the next day to find your teacher with a swollen hand or arm (hehehehe. Childhood superstitions. Fantasies. *shaking my head*).
Next time try to keep your mouth shut during that curfew imposed on your tongue if your buttocks are still sore. Just read a book!

Matters of the Heart.

Girl: I’m having my operation now. I love you.
The girl lays on operation bed. Boy stands there with watery eyes without saying “I love you too”. Girl finishes heart transplant, the boy is gone.
Girl: Nurse where is he?
Nurse: They didn’t tell you whose heart they gave you, did they?
Nurse hands the girl a note. Girls reads note. ”I told you it was yours”.

Pulled this off a Facebook page and what comes to mind is, “Will you? Will you do same?” One user (male) commented, “give her your heart then she goes and get screwed by another man. Stupid guy”.
User 2 (male): I would never give you my heart no matter how much I love you! Forget it!
User 3 (female): true love
User 4 (female): If every guy can do this to their girls, there won’t be broken hearted girls
User 5 (male): Bless but what a fool
User 6 (female): Ah, cute. That’s devotion + proof. ‘Actions speak louder than words’
User 7 (female): Isn’t that illegal… you can’t donate your heart unless you’re dead

Most of the ladies (all of them I guess) thought that was lovely, sweet, adorable (etc) of the guy. That’s because, I guess, it’s the girl receiving the transplant. What if it was the other way round?

Now if it were a kidney transplant, that I would do but the heart?… that’s quite dicey. What runs through your mind before taking that irrevocable step is all that your friends would say (you being stupid, foolish etc), your parents’ sufferings bringing you up would have been in vain, only for you to loose your life for a girl/boy (“I’d die for you” isn’t that what we say? 🙂 ).

I love my girlfriend (no two ways about that) but when it comes to matters of the heart (pun intended) such as this, your brain becomes an empty auditorium reveberating, “is this sacrifice worth it?” Unconditional love decrees you go “around the world and sail the seven seas, across the universe…” and “…other galaxies” (Black Eyed Peas-Meet Me Halfway) in search of anything your dearest wishes. Are our sacrifices in relationships, in the name of love, worth it? Relationships shrouded in unpredictable U-turns, prey to infidelity, and prone to insecurities. Or maybe a relationship in which one partner’s merely using the other. When the Grimm Reaper blows out the flame, you weep your heart out, urging the pain to seep out. Then you ask yourself “were the sacrifices worth it?”.

Just like Prince Charming here in the poem Beauty and its Beast written by a very good friend of mine.

“A genius outwitted in the game of love
A damsel in distress I offer a laugh
A closer look, a change to need, sure, she needs
Sight! I shout as with reeds
A vicious search to render her vision
Out merge a hero my heart keeps a mission
Wandering, soul and body, but to no avail
A decision fueled by love’s intoxication
My mates I am sure after will wail
I take the step, retreat never an option
My face is beautiful! , those were her words
It’s really dark in here! , those certainly my words
Matrimony, the angel comes in
The devil, treason puts her out
My heart in shock, sorrow sets in
My soul in grief, I let it out
In a script I let loose the pain
My feelings I left on the window pane
I guess, beauty’s curse is never to love .”
Nii Lartey Addico.

The poem tells the story of a man who falls in love with a blind beaut and searches for a way to “render her vision”. Eventually he takes “a decision fueled by love’s intoxication” to give her his sight to which he says, “My mates I am sure after will wail”. He offers her his sight to which she says, “My face is beautiful!” and he, “It’s really dark in here!”. He is later betrayed and lets “loose the pain” in a letter “left on the window pane”.

The things we do for love (sigh). Would you?

My Heart Is Yours

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