Archive for October, 2014

Trip to Elmina Castle

Posted: October 30, 2014 in Uncategorized

One of Ghana’s prides… THE ELMINA CASTLE. Take a look.

Roaming Ambassador

Took a trip to one of the oldest Castles in the country. We were late as usual but it turned out to be a blessing. We arrived just in time for the best sunset.

Elmina Castle is a portuguese Castle built in AD 1482 as São Jorge da Mina Castle, the oldest European building in Sub Saharan Africa.

First established as a trade settlement, the castle later became one of the most important stops on the route of the Atlantic slave trade. The Dutch seized the fort from the Portuguese in 1637, and took over all the Portuguese Gold Coast in 1642. The slave trade continued under the Dutch until 1814; in 1872 the Dutch Gold Coast, including the fort, became a possession of the British Empire.

The castle is recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Here are some of the pictures;





8O9A2556  8O9A2553


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Anyone ever told you, “I like your style”?


Well, I think sneakers are yummy.



These ones were gifted from my closest friend on my birthday this year. It was my favourite gift that day, not that I had many anyway.

I don’t mind wearing sleek heels for formal and corporate events, but I’ll choose sneakers over hills any day!

Style has evolved as a big deal today. The fashion world is taking over; Make-up Artists (MUAs), designers, tailors, fashion illustrators, models and photographers’ works are trending on social media like wildfire.

Appearances matters now. Signature looks even. There’s Rhianna’s Hair and Janelle Monae’s Black and Whiteness, not forgetting Africans returning to their Natural Hair roots, and rocking every style; whether afro, bald or locs.


Style is primarily a reflection of one’s personality or mood at a peculiar time. It could be artistic or abstract, simple or meaningless.

There’s no wrong style or right style. I’d rather they be categorized as appropriate and/or inappropriate depending on the environment or circumstance.

My style is quite simple. I dress to feel confident: afrocentric, beads, sneakers, boots, T-shirts, trousers… Bodycon, heels and skirts when I deliberately want to feel sexy. Hahaha!!


I love my hair.

My shortsightedness eventually got me cutting off all my permed hair and embracing the natural. A lifetime decision I’ve never regretted. Now, I must eat and live healthily to grow healthy hair. No woman enjoys weak and damaged hair on their heads!

My mother and brother were unhappy about the new style. Mother said her worry was that I’ve got “stubborn hair” and will find it difficult maintaining the natural hair. As for my brother, he just said it was wrong and I needn’t follow the ‘community’. He loves it now.

My nose… I’m fond of sniffing people. It’s often a pleasure attaching a peculiar smell to a person. But then, it gets pretty uncomfortable with the unfriendly smells; the trotro mate’s, old clothing from the corners of one’s wardrobe and trunk… Argh!

My lips… That little open space in between is as a result of the gap between my front teeth.  Ejire the Akans call it. A friend calls it dimpled teeth. Amusing.

Now, back to my hair.

Wait. What else is there to say about it? It’s awesome.

Wanna touch?

How do you react to frustration? I am often numb and cheeky; for my personality, that’s unnatural.

It’s one of those days where most events seem to scream failure and rudeness, even pleasurable evil laughs right in my face, so clearly that I see through the bottomless darkness. Exactly so.

Yesterday, the trotro transporting passengers from Lapaz to Tema, had a minor accident on the motorway. We were all safe, physically, but the driver. The driver later got down, opened the passengers’ door and ask that we all get down from the bus, his reason, “I’m not in the right state of mind to take you to your destination” [he said in Twi with an Ewe accent]. Eventually, 32 passengers found other means to get to Tema. I trekked about an hour until I got a cab in Tema going my way.

You’re the first to hear this.

It was a 12hr worship session in church which started exactly 6pm and ended 6am this morning. Being part of the choir and leaders for the session, I stood till about 2.30am where I realized my body couldn’t hold up any longer. An amazing spiritual exercise, but dayum! My body still hurts.

I get home and realized ECG’s visited. Lights out. The load shedding isn’t running on schedule anymore. It’s an everyday affair now, unpredictable too. Mysteriously, the weather was hot; the winds were asleep, I guess. I struggled to sleep, but not until I finally gave in to those blood thirsty mosquitoes. “Fine. Bite!”

Morning came.
Taps were closed.
Water from the reservoir was colder than ice [maybe a little exaggeration] :-/
The day never got colder, literally, it wasn’t any colder or less cold, only COLD.

My tailor didn’t alter my choir attire and wouldn’t pick my calls too. I’m to wear the oversized outfit to church tomorrow 😐

I broke my father’s favourite mug about an 2hrs back and never mentioned it when he got back home. Truth is, by morning, I would’ve left to church before he realizes it.

Mother just left my room, asking if I’ll be introducing my beloved to her. You should’ve seen her face when I told her I’d want to meet him too. “You’re not growing any younger. Next year by now, we should be planning or even getting married”


Zzzzzzzzzzz… I’m sleepy. I have hope for tomorrow. It sure will be better than the past few days.

Good night, depending on which part of the star your on.


My little cousin didn’t wake up yesterday. According to my aunt, he died in his sleep. A 5yr old boy died in his sleep.

She woke up by him. He was dead then. “He was fine yesterday, and the day before. I don’t know why this… He’s my only son”.

Aunt Dede’s one of my favourite aunties. She’s the last step sister of my mother and pretty young, about 30yrs. Sean was a cute boy and loves to hang with the girls. When he was a toddler, he’d rather be carried by women than men. We never met his father, he denied responsibility and fled off. For a young woman to have single handedly raised her son only for her to lose him after 5yrs, how sadder can it get?

Why not the 1st year? Why not the 2nd or 3rd? Now, she’ll have to start all over. Her friends and colleagues have gone ahead of her anyway. She’s lived a few years of scrutiny and natural judgments from friends and relatives due to giving birth out of wedlock with no support from the child’s father. She even lost her way and recently spoke to me about being born again, accepting ‘reality’, and making the best of what she has today.

Hmph!! I pray for her. God certainly will fix this brokenness.

Life doesn’t get any shorter and unpredictably inevitable as death. Someone lives today, tomorrow there’s news he’s dead.

Far from the physical death that saddens us and hits as hard most often,there’s the death we do not see; the death we feel that eats us up from within. Which is worse: to know you’re living but dead within, and will have to deal with reviving yourself or starting anew? Or to be physically dead and free from everything else?

Life is short. Deal with it today. Say what you have to today, do what you have to today because you really might never get the chance tomorrow.

All the best living a good life.


I’m sad.


The man next door, my neighbour, he’s the last to take his bath at night and the first every morning.

Mr. Nathan is an elementary school teacher, I never asked which school. I don’t know. Only that, on weekends, he sits topless behind a plastic table, in his famous white cotton boxers in front of his house, to mark and grade his students’ works. Those boxers have been worn too many times; if they could talk, they’ll eventually weep out every thread.

It could’ve been somewhat appealing without a pot belly and breasts wider than mine. But then, his wife likes it, I guess; Hilda is pretty with 3 male children. Hardworking mother too, as if she’s got any other option. She recently completed her master’s programme in… Dayum! I was distracted when she mentioned it But yeah, she’s learned too. She’s the one who owns and drives the kids to school in the Hyundai. He walks. He likes walking. Walking is an exercise.

But then his grammar… Sweet. I can almost taste every word he utters. His control of the English language gets me overlooking that pot belly and breasts, straight into his eyes and lips. He calls me Big Sister because his elder siblings are twins and he’s Tawia [a single child following twins]. Being a twin rocks!!

Ok, back to Mr. Nathan…

He brushes his teeth before bathing. Whiles brushing, he’ll pace about the compound in short steps, usually humming tunes of famous Methodist hymns, and waiting for his bucket to get full with water under the tap.

Why doesn’t he just brush in the bathroom?!    -:)

It’s a compound house with 6 houses.

The way he brushes his teeth, polishes his shoes, greets every other neighbour passing by, his routinely baths, relationship with his kids… He’s some character.

He baths at 23hrs every night and refills his water drums… Every night! He brushes his teeth between the hours of 6 and 6.30 every morning and is out of the house by 7.30am. Such order. Such discipline. Hah! Mine is unpredictable.





Mood swings



Appetite change

Diarrhea, constipation even; worst symptom!

Then there’s the interesting part, swollen breasts. Personally, it’s fun experiencing my breasts feel somewhat heavy, I wouldn’t say swollen, just heavy and bigger, once for a couple of days, monthly. Different bra size, different choice of clothing. The uncomfortable part is where the pain is physical and as a result, hard to sleep face down, yet the brighter side is the relief of slowly taking off that bra at the end of the day. Goodness! Amazing feeling!!

Now, Hormonal Change… Intriguing. When emotions are heightened; stress, boredom, anxiety, depression, and even sexual/sensual appeal at it’s peak… Whoop! Every woman sure needs to control these urges. I had my menarche at 14. 10 ‘bloody’ years down the line, it’s fair to have learned how to control and deal with these symptoms so as to have healthy relationships and not slow down productivity.

This isn’t news. Every woman experiences Pree-MEN-strual symptoms a week or two before the ‘bloody’ cycle begins. Although this experience is necessary and typical in women between and in the late ages of 20 and 40, symptoms differ with every woman.

Men, please reason with us. We try, we really do.


I have friends who’re of the view that I’m a foodie; thing is, why be lackadaisical about that significant item that satisfies my system and even better, appeals to my mental and emotional state?

Ever been so thirsty for some chilled fruit juice, then have it gulped down your throat the next moment? Ecstatic!

Ever been so hungry at lunchtime in a seemingly unending corporate meeting? Frustrating!

Luckily, I’m not allergic to any type of food, but Jollof… Jollof touches every fibre of my being. Jollof is all there is that gets my attention. If a man is to ask me out on a date only to cook me Jollof, he’s definitely got my attention.

I’ll tell you about Jollof another day, and even demonstrate how I cook it. For the meantime, food in general, is necessary.

Healthy food.

Junk food.

Fruits, vegetables.

All is food. For the Vegan who’s ardently selective about food, I must congratulate you. I can’t be that disciplined in this aspect, probably because I’m curious about foods.

Then there’s the local food. I find local foods healthy and well, local. Haha. Banku, Fufu, Dzidzi (Face the Wall), groundnut soup, palmnut soup, okro soup, garden eggs stew, yam, plantain among the rest. My favourite local food umm… Well, Jollof stands above them all.

Life is short, eat and be happy, eat and be healthy. No long thing.




Art is everything there is about everything there is.

I’d always wanted to be a dancer, but I do it best in my seat.

I’d wanted to be a painter and mould artifacts, but father suppressed my visual art skills back in High School.

“learn how to operate in the business world”, he’ll say.

But I picked myself up after High School; I must say, studying English Literature as a major discipline sharpened my literary skills. I started to write, but I couldn’t sketch, I couldn’t paint.

Then, I figured I could find a way to entertain more than just one art. I personally researched on critiquing artistic works. That, introduced me to photography.

I got so attached in the early stages so much so that I purposely acquainted myself with professional photographers. Well, they turn out to be amazing people too.

Above are some pictures of me with one of my friends PK Opoku, goofing around after a shoot. PK is a photographer, computer geek, and simply a nerd. I love the type of music he listens to, his sarcasm, and sense of humour. Most importantly, I love that he loves the Lord.

Here are the finished works.





So yeah, my modeling aspiration is not for the fame, but for how it makes me feel. It’s exciting to have an MUA (Make-up Artist) ‘pimp’ my face so fine, and a stylist dress me up so a photographer focuses on me, and most importantly, be a part of a fellow artist’s dream in creating a masterpiece… Too cool. I’ll keep learning and exploring success ways of managing this art.

Wish me the best.


ACCRA: The New Fashion Frontier

Posted: October 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

This is Ghana.

ACCRA [dot] ALT Radio

Accra is  West Africa’s style haven – it has been for decades and present day stylists and designers haven’t let up in creating their own fashion aesthetic that puts them at the frontier of contemporary design in Africa. Today we are checking out three Ghanaian designers who are creating new perspectives of African couture that has its roots in Ghanaian street fashion.

Enter Ajepomaa Mensah.

Ajepomaa Gallery ( below are collections for her new line Zoti with Ghanaian actress Maame Adjei.

Photographer: Marcus Hessenberg

Maami Adjei rocks Zoti Maame Adjei rocks Zoti


Alikoto Clothing‘s Capsule collection for Josef Otten customized fabric, modeled by Ghanaian musician/designer Jojo Abot and Ghanaian writer Nanama B. Acheampong.

Photographed by Gerard Nartey

Alikoto3 Jojo Abot keeps it cool and funky


Enter Christie Brown – designing outfits for Beyonce’s Mrs. Carter tour in 2013 put her brand out globally. Ghanaian designer Christie Brown has the world’s attention now.

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