FREINDS AND FOES

I have come to realize that truly, when a day comes that human beings do not recognize their differences, they cease to be called human. A reflection of an encounter that I witnessed while in senior high school made me believe that more.

Me and my few friends went out of school to eat Banku in a chop-bar few meters away from the school; Presbyterian Senior High School. It was vacation day and so we came back quickly for last GMSA meeting for the term. We entered the classroom where the meeting was being held and we sat somewhere in group as usual. Some of us began to act frivolously or maybe were just trying to have fun because of the day`s atmosphere. But we were in a middle of a serious meeting and the president; Faisal Mumin was in front of us reviewing the activities carried throughout the term.
Maino Prince Jnr got furious with their actions and showed disapproval in a very angry mood. One of the wits; Triple Rumuor responded and it became a verbal dispute between the two.
The meeting was over but they were still exchanging aggressive words. As we were walking out of the school, we met Mr. Abubakar; one of GMSA`s patrons. He tried to resolve their matter. “duba yaaro nga ohh, ze rena ni” I recall Amadu speaking Hausa in front of Mr. Abu absent-mindlessly, when the teacher asked what was wrong? Mr. Abu tried his best but as you know, Zongo boys like us would not listen....lol..

We got out of the school compound and fortunately, a “trotro” was approaching towards us. We all filled the minibus. They were still quarreling. As they did, one satirical character I will never forget; Musah Sisoko Can Do, The Great Gambler, Can-do, Ladies Man, among other nicknames, was urging them to throw punches and said they were acting like females. We all knew he did not really want that to happen. He was only a comic relief in the whole drama.

I sat quietly in the rear seat of the trotro and watched everything like I was glued to a seat in a theater. I don’t intend to tell how it all ended but what I think is that, a little quarrel will help us to know how to meet with the expectations of our fellows. We shall know what they like and what they dislike. Disagreement brings true friends more close than before. These two friends did not end up as foes. They became closer than before. Real friends will stay but the bad-guys will vanish like “kush”.

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THE VERDICT(29/08/13)

THE VERDICT(29/08/13)

Whether NPP or NDC

Ghanaian we`ll always be

Many have come and gone

Lot yet to be born

We are too heterogeneously united

to become foes over what The Nine decided

Let`s hold our contempt

and for our mother`s sake accept

For the Five letter to manifest

Even those on both sides of the debate

were classmates and roommates

After all proceedings

they chatter like siblings

As you read THINK !

This is my petition

                                                 Fahd Mahama
@fahd_mahama
https://www.facebook.com/FahD.maHamA

BACK - TO - LONDON

BACK TO LONDON

I came to Ghana when I was 11 years old. Brought down by my father to continue my education. I traded the accent with Auntie Kande`s Tuo Zaafi and Auntie Diko`s waakye. In London, I overheard my dad telling my British mom(she`s black) that he wants me to be a tough guy. "When he stays in Ghana for a while, he will appreciate the other side of life" I heard him speaking. I had been in this African country for 7 years now.  finished JHS and SHS with very good grades.

When I started schooling, I was very much frustrated with the standard of education here. I was not sent to any of the dada-bee schools in town but rather a cyto in the prominent of all slums in the city; Nima. that is were I stayed with my grandmother. My father was born here but had been living in London for 15 years now. He`s the only son of his parents and his father,my grand-father had died when he was a teenager, school was very boring. My pocket-money was one tenth of what I spent in London. 

I realized that most pupils, especially the males had enough to spend, far more than I can. They could buy what they want to eat, drink, and wear. Hardly will anyone of them talk with me about future career or profession. They considered their financial situation as a barrier. Up till now I have ambitions of becoming a Writer and a Fashion designer. But the writer in me seems corrupted. But I still love to read. I read about anything I find interesting around me.

After JHS I got into SHS and things got worse. My parents divorced, dad seldom calls, I lost contact with my mother and I was confused. when he calls it was only to say hi and see how my grandmother was fearing. He never called on my phone. Besides, he doesn't have my number. I had managed to get my self a cell phone which i`m about to tell you how.

In JHS, I learned from my friends how to make money fast. It was easy for me because I was very good with the computer than most of them. Every night I will sneak out of the house and go to an internet cafe. I just have to visit a dating site and impersonate myself as a 32 years old lady living in Ghana but was born somewhere in Europe or America. I`ll use pictures of models from their websites. Once the white man falls in love with me I will begin to ask for money for some fictitious reasons. When we had no money to purchase time cards at the cafe, we would go on the road, at traffic points, to clean wind glasses for some coins.

By the time I got into SHS, I could buy myself whatever I wanted to eat, drink and wear. I even payed my fees. 

When my grandmother realized that I had stopped asking her for money, she felt reluctant and never asked how I get to buy all the things I own. She could not have taken me to SHS. My dad sent money only once in a long while until he stopped completely. Her small kola-nuts business was becoming a fiasco. 

Now that I have finished SHS, I am not planning to go to university soon. I have a strong desire to achieve excellence. I want to amass all the money I can and then invest into a profitable business here or find my way back to London. I know very well that it is not a good job.

My friends made me wise if not, smart. growing up in such circumstance was tough for a London boy. I was born with a silver spoon but I lost it.

THIS IS NOT MY STORY. IT IS JUST A FICTION. READ MY BLOGS BECAUSE I WILL COME BACK TO TELL YOU HOW FAR HE HAS REACHED IN HIS QUEST TO GO BACK TO LONDON. Watch Out For Part.....................lol

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FACEBOOK-PREACHERS

Perhaps when we pass away our timeline would be a reliable source of our autobiography. The kind of personality I present is not that of a "mallam-mallam" and I know that. But that does not mean that I am religiously weak.

I don't remember the last time I posted a sermon on my Timeline but I can remember reading friends` posts in which they tried to preach. A lot of the posts are quotes from books that I have read before or sometimes, something from a website or a Facebook page.

I don't belittle anyone's faith but I just want to be a reminder. From Wikipedia,  

[timeline is a way of displaying a list of events in chronological order, sometimes described as a project artifact. It is typically a graphic design showing a long bar labeled with dates alongside itself and (usually) events labeled on points where they would have happened]

Also, from my amateur Film-making experience, it is an horizontal board on a Video Editing Software that is used to edit videos for Movie or Television. Recorded files are inserted onto the board and the editor decides what you watch first, middle or last.

So we can deduce from these that, a timeline is another form of storytelling. The next time you post something on your timeline, don't forget that you are telling a story ( your story ). Tell your story and not someone`s. When you quote from someone, don't make the words your own. Remember to add references and give credit so that at least, knowledge-seekers can do further research.

Don't try to please anybody but yourself. Facebook-preachers !

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Just An Expression ( i want to be a writer )

I  WANT  TO  BE  A  WRITER

Apart from what you are reading, there are a lot more I want to write about myself. Not the "my-self" essays i used to write in primary school. Not only about myself but about other people and some people(fictitious) too.
As a juvenile and growing up in a society where there are obviously few motivators, sometimes I feel oblivious about my future.
Especially when I need someone to say to me certain things such as, "is this what you want to do?" "keep it up!" "never give up" or "if there`s anything I can do to support, don`t hesitate to let me know" but not getting anyone to say them. I feel deterred and makes me want to take my pen off the paper and reach for the computer keyboard(sakawa). 

Besides, nothing shames a man but an empty pocket. I cant afford to be an unsuccessful writer and at the same time, successfully empty in the pocket when there`s a good brain. It is either I write for a living or I make a living chatting-online. I don't necessarily intend to write for a living for it is a form of expressing my observations as I sit by the roadside of life and reflecting on the issues of life. I just want to transform reality or imagination to words. By putting pen on paper, I express my joy and get rid of my fears and torments. From my blood veins through the ink onto the paper. I try as much as I can to take my mind from What I Don't Want to What I Want. 

Anytime I pray I pray for wisdom like Solomon or even better. Long life on this earth like Methuselah or even longer. Good health and strength like Samson or even stronger. Also to be meek like The Prophet Mohammed and down to earth like Jesus. When you pray, pray for me too. Pray that I am protected from the evils of life and exalted to the highest peak. When you come across a good writing(book, movie or photography) which is written and/or directed me Fahd Mahama, you should know that you prayed for me and Allah made it possible. so I want to thank you in advance. If you wish me ill-luck, thank you because I can`t do without you.

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