I’ve been off the blogosphere for a long time, and I’ll be back right after exams is done, but in the meantime, I just need to do something important: give honour where it’s due…

So six decades ago, this world was blessed with a gift. In spite of a pretty wild beginning, there’s only one word to describe the kind of impact this man has had on the body of Christ, and the world at large.


If I’m to go by the date on my membership certificate, I will have been a member of Action Chapel for 5 years at the end of December. And there are zero regrets about it. It’s been a major blessing being under the leadership of Archbishop Nicholas Duncan-Williams.

That is a great man of God right there!!

This is not a servant of God who paints a rosy, thorn-free life as a believer. This is a man who has been through hell and high waters, and still remains strong in the Lord. A walking testimony of the grace of God that surpasses our mental faculties.

I’ve seen this great man of God display a love for the less privileged that is simply beautiful. From the recovering drug addict to the widow, his heart towards them is something else.

I’ve seen the passionate warrior in him that makes him known as the Apostle of Strategic Prayer. Thanks to him, many of us understand that this life we live is a defeated one if prayer is neglected. His desire to raise a generation of end-time spiritual commandos is one that is undoubtedly bearing fruit, and posterity shall surely speak well of him.

Many of his quotes are permanently impressed upon my memory. Thanks to him, I know not to seek to be blessed, but to be a blessing. I understand that as far as this life is concerned, I am a steward of everything and a possessor of nothing. That love goes well beyond what you say, but what you do. That it is in my DNA to show compassion to others, for the simple reason that our Heavenly Father is compassionate.

Among the many reasons I adore this man, is his authenticity. He is as real as it gets. Sometimes, some Christians tend to make you wonder if being saved stripped them of every iota of their humanity. Not with Papa. He’s as open about his struggles as need be. It’s one thing that makes me appreciate him the more, knowing this is no superman, but an instrument of mercy. His style of saying to the congregation, ‘I know you’re all angels, but as for me, I’m….’ is honestly starting to rub off on me. Don’t be surprised to hear me saying that to a group of people one day.

Underestimate his sense of humour at your own peril. He recently told the congregation about his love for shito. Now that is a man’s man right there! Hehe…

He’s impacted me such that I personally seek to be an artist that wants long-lasting impact over superficial impact. His apathy towards the applause of man is something I rate so highly, which is understandable considering he’s been maligned, misrepresented and unfairly spat at over the years, from young and old. A walking lesson to not expect love from all sides. It’s people like him that Sho Baraka was talking about in Profhet, 1968…

They only throw stones at trees that bear fruits
So don’t be shocked when the mob attempts to throw stones at you

He’s constantly made it clear how much of a waste it is to constantly explain yourself. So if you’ve ever heard my poem Explaining Myself, just know that Papa was a major influence.

Speaking of which, it’s a totally undisputed fact that the group I’m in owes him a lot. ThroneRoom Perspective got that name because of him. A staple of his prayer language. The group you know would not have existed if it wasn’t for his obedience to the call. I doubt the idea of spoken word would have even crossed our minds, to begin with.

I’ve never spoken to him personally (even though he did once pass by a TRP meeting), but my most enduring memory of interaction with him was 3 years ago, when alongside Kobby Korankye, Ralph Egan and Paul Folivi, I got to do a memorable birthday. Doesn’t get more memorable than ‘mimicking’ his override and overturn prayer style, and ending off with the timeless ‘He who lived, died, laid in the grave and arose triumphant on the 3rd day’ in vintage Archbishop style.

All that to say, Papa is one of a kind. A one-in-a-billion general. He’s a man who by the world’s standards doesn’t deserve to amount to much, but sits with presidents and world leaders because of the God that called him out of darkness into His marvellous light to show forth His praises. If there’s any leader worthy of double honour, it is him. Millions the world over have been deeply impacted because of his willingness to be used by God.

So, to Archbishop Nicholas Duncan-Williams, the Papa to millions, myself included, I say: the happiest of birthdays to you! God is nowhere near done with you! Greater levels and dimensions await you! I eagerly look forward to many more years under your leadership. Guaranteed, my children will come to know and appreciate the servant of God I hugely love and admire. God bless you beyond your wildest imaginations, Sir!

And in line with one of Firm Foundation’s major loved songs, dear Papa, get ready for the best days of your life! Coz what God is about to do is gonna blow your mind!!!



As I share this with you, kindly be informed that somtin dey the pipeline inside! Yep.  The SW community has been up to quite a lot so far this year, and expect Qwamenah to be in the mix. The proper announcement should be out by May (My exam timetable is quite liberal this time round, so I should be able to let it out).

Okay, enough talking from me! Here it is…

Severed umbilical cords. Hollow souls crying for a filling.

Calibrated mindsets that choose fading pleasures.

The sorry state of the human race.

Blinded by deception, many saunter towards the fiery bin,

Setting themselves up for a date with rage that cannot be contained.

Driven by selfish ambition and lust, their tanks filled up to the brim on pride,

Speeding straight into the dark tunnel ahead of them, backs turned to the light,

Regardless of the gender, they betroth themselves to become the devil’s missus,

Veils placed over their eyes as they’re led by demons down the aisle to prepare for an eternity of being smothered by hell’s kisses.

A fate that is worse than death.

So we speak of the trapdoor that has been set, the Loophole by which they can escape,

The Ark that they must seek refuge in while there is still free passage through its gates,

We speak of how they can be situated on solid ground with no cracks, hooked on the Fisher of man’s heart,

Urging them to step off the thin ice on which they joyfully take their path,

Before it breaks up and drops them in the middle of pure pain with no comfort in sight,

We stay focused, hand grenades of grace bombarding the kingdom of the cruellest,

Victory the beautiful pearl that caresses our palm lines, we know we’re never losing,

Spreading seeds of joy and hope, heeding the All-important mission to go,

And give the world that info that’ll makes lost souls exchange rags for robes soaked in crimson flow,

We are the bearers of Good News.

Telling all that despite the sin debt we have accrued, deserving of punishment and curses,

Jesus defeated the grave, humiliated Hades and flattened the head of the serpent,

And so there is redemption from the pitiful second death at a 100% discount, absolutely priceless!

And we warn them that without the Lamb as their Lawyer on the final day, they will be a lost cause that’s totally indefensible,

Sentenced to eternal torment, tortured by torrents of sulphur and flames.

We give them the news in love and intercede that the Spirit may move,

For only He can awaken them to their needy state and keep their hands off the snooze.

And we?… we continue to bear the Good News, yielding ourselves as His tools and receptacles,

Letting the world know that without new birth in Christ, the kingdom of God is simply inaccessible.

Books Read (Jan-Feb)

So I was on a good reading spree towards the end of 2016, and I made it my intention to not slow down in 2017. So I put up 19 as my number for the Reading Challenge. In spite of how loaded my schedule tends to be (and it’s gonna get even more intense within the next few months), I’ve managed to read four books so far.

Okay, I’ve completed three of them, and I’m on the fourth one.

So, this is just a review of those books so far…

GREY MOUNTAIN – John Grisham

So this was a book I was reading at the end of 2016, and laziness set in to make me put it somewhere. Thank God I got back to it.

Well, when it comes to Grisham novels, there’s pretty much a lot that I expect, and I wasn’t disappointed. The beginning was quite slow, but it picked up momentum later on. Thanks to him, you’ll get to know that being a lawyer isn’t always glamorous and all, but there’s a lot of ugliness under the covers. This was so magnified, in a story about wrecking the environment for personal gain, even at the expense of human life. The whole strip-mining business, and the clear deception and love for money that was evident really ruffled me. Companies that would rather let their activities cause people to get cancer and pay off cheap claims than fix the mess and prevent it from happening altogether. Smh. It was a fierce world in there, and it was a reminder to me that this legal world is not a pretty one, but service over comfort is the way to go, and that should be a mantra of the Christian, no matter where you find yourself.


I’ve had a heart for seeing the restoration of biblical manhood in my generation, and this is a book worth reading for people like me. Dr. Mason gave an outlook of how the Ultimate Man, Jesus Christ, was like on earth, and the need for us to follow His ways. He also pointed out how men submitted to Christ can have a solid impact on families and communities.

I liked the chapter on restored sexuality. Emphasis on not just the fact that sex is a gift that is meant for marriage alone, but that it is to be enjoyed! That was just a reminder to me that the religious mindset that demonizes sex is losing its grip. But as a whole, it was a good read, even though at the latter part, I felt like he was being slightly too man-focused. Something he acknowledged in his conclusion, stating that he’s seen so much of a lack of real manhood in his communities, that it pushes him that far. Well, I’m not gonna complain.


We’ve heard about this great son of the motherland, but honestly, we haven’t heard enough. I’m sure all that comes to mind about him is the ‘educate a woman, educate a nation’ statement. So I decided to get to know a little more.

This is an okay book to start with, considering it was written for the youth. It tells a lot about Kwegyir’s life, from his intelligent father’s influence, his days as a teacher (apparently, he loved being verbose from time to time) and when he went out of the country and had diverse experiences, including discrimination and all, as well as him becoming a theologian and a public speaker. It’s unfortunate how the book notes that most of his speeches were lost to posterity. We really could have done with a lot of those. Good read, but I’d definitely want more info. Anyways…

WHILE THE WORLD WATCHED – Carolyn Maull McKinstry (Currently reading)

Seems appropriate to close out Black History Month with this. So I’ve heard about the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing in Birmingham, Alabama in 1963, which killed four innocent girls, and this book is an account of that awful tragedy from one girl who could have been an additional victim. I’m pretty sure I’ll finish it by the end of this week, coz it’s one of those books that gets me hooked, with all the Civil Rights history. One question I keep asking myself as I read: What at all was it that made white people so hateful towards blacks?

So, that’s my progress with the Goodreads Reading Challenge so far. Definitely getting somewhere. And as I end this, my advice as usual: sometimes, turn off your laptops with all the series and movies and all, and pick up a book and read!!!

Glacial, Deadpan, Stony

Glacial gazes. Deadpan demeanours. Stony souls.

I look around Me, and My heart is filled with grief,

At how the top hierarchy in this place of worship operate in an atmosphere that is lacking in one major thing.


Man was intricately created, crafted and composed to be a recipient and a giver of this good gift,

Seeing every like-structured being as deserving of agape affection,

But these ones have been affected by the indwelling lust and greed,

Lanterns lit up by the fiery need to appear as all-knowing, high and mighty.

Living for quick shots of superbia and rolled up joints of self-exaltation while blowing down disdain on those who aren’t as high as them.

And I am upset.

Grief rushes through my valves as I observe the frigidity around me.

Hearts turned to stone by virtue of the abuse of what was written on stones,

Playing perfect lip games while nursing iniquity within, yet scornful of the equally corrupted sinner on the street because of the appearances they keep up,

Those laws they grip so tightly to are the prologue to the greatest story of all time, but they’ve lost the plot,

Misplaced expectations,

They’ve chosen exterior obeisance as their settlement and revel in its deception,

Making oral traditions the red rose they tenderly cradle with care, while their noses go sky high upon seeing the other people.

They don’t love the people. They just love themselves. Taking Justin’s advice way too far.

Drooling in their daydreams over seating arrangements and titles,

Aroused by the thought of distinctive prayer shawls and salutations of respect,

The good life of fame and recognition is the deity they faithfully dedicate themselves to, and it grieves me.

Watching them engage in a series of pious actions, and with each episode comes the pressing nausea waves that pound their fists against my stomach,

It is sickening.

They’re gleaming crypts with rotten bowels, substituting Soli Deo Gloria for man’s praise,

To be seen as the loyal and faithful servant he actually isn’t is the reason the rabbi Baruch for example stands in public and prays,

A cold-blooded wolf at heart, fangs ever dripping red as he lurks around town and preys on widows and their inheritance,

It bothers me.

And as I stand here, with this man with a withered hand standing in front of me,

I place before them two options: taking a life on the Sabbath, or saving a life on the Sabbath.

The icy silence tells it all.

Hearts skip beats at the thought of keeping the Six Commandment, yet stay set against breaking the Fourth,

As if man was made for the Sabbath when the truth here is dyslexic.

Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies.

I look around me, and I am grieved at the sight of men so in love with their worded traditions that they neglect the downtrodden and needy as if weakness equals reductions of Imago Dei in their DNA when it’s crystal clear that all in Our glorious image and likeness were equally made.

And it grieves me that to this day, there are still so many of such in My body.

Negligence, Night Girls & Druggies

So this is my first post of 2017! Extremely late, I know. I’ve been so busy with exam preparations (this is my last year before I get the LLB, God willing), that so many other plans have had to take the backseat. I’ll do what I can to get back on track…

Anyway, just to mention: I should get to work on a new series soon, and I’ll be putting up stuff about what’s going on the GH spoken word fraternity. I did make it an intention to pay a lot of attention to the audio side. And that doesn’t go without mentioning that my album will be out later this year!! I’ll soon let y’all know the name…

In the meantime, I went through my old email and found posts from my older blogs (which I deleted at some point. Twas a painful process, but it had to be done), and I thought I might as well start off with a blast from the past…

The kind-hearted policeman and his wife, both seated together on the couch, looked at the two young people in front of them.

Robert and his sister, Alice. The two of them looked dirty, sullen and as unhappy as children who had been told they couldn’t eat chocolate for the rest of their lives. Sitting right in front of the law officer and his better half certainly didn’t make them the least bit comfortable.

This policeman wasn’t looking to have them thrown into prison, though. Having observed them for quite a while, and despite seeing that they were deviating from society’s accepted attitude of people their age, he could tell the problem lay skin-deep.

Robert was a serious drug user; from ‘wee’ to heroine, he had used them all and was still using them religiously. Alice was slightly worse; she not only used them as well, she also sold her body on a regular basis. Through all this, the policeman could tell certain conditions had pushed these two youngsters into living such wretched lives. So he had tried to befriend them, which took quite a long time, and gain their trust before delving into the root cause of their problems. He had decided not to let them know of his profession, lest they think he was leading them into being apprehended.

So there they sat before him and his wife, unaware that he was a policeman, and unsurprisingly edgy. They hadn’t taken their daily dosage, and looked extremely eager to leave and inject themselves with the harmful substances.

The cop asked them only one question at that point, however, to get them talking. “How was your family like?”

The siblings looked at each other for a moment, then said in unison, “Terrible.”

Alice patted her brother on the knee to signal she was going to do the talking. Then, with a deep breath and a few twitches, she started.

Robert and Alice had been born into a home of affluence, power and comfort. Their father was a highly successful businessman in charge of an insurance company twice declared the best company in the nation. Their mother was in charge of a local restaurant which often averaged about five thousand visitors in a single week. Indeed, they had been born into a very wealthy family, and need and want was nothing one would hear from the lips of the two youngsters, for they were given everything a child could need at the tender stages of his or her life. Toys, games, you name it, they had it all.

There was one thing they did lack, however. One thing that surpassed all the others.

Love and attention.

Because of how busy their parents were with their work, they rarely saw them for more than two hours in a day. They both left the house very early, usually before the children woke up, and came home late after they had been put to bed. The few times they managed to have the children awake when they were around, they didn’t really give them the attention they craved for. Alice was the one affected the most by all this, and it reflected as she grew up.

She had no qualms about talking back to either parent, thus causing a serious rift between them. Her nasty relations with them turned to cause serious problems between the two of them as well. It led to a very unpleasant divorce, which split up the family badly. Custody of the two was granted to their mother, much to the consternation of their father, who felt he would do a better job bringing them up.

Eventually, after a long, protracted legal battle, they were able to share custody of Robert and Alice. But that only tended to worsen the case of the two young children.

With their mother, they had a little fun with her, as she took them out from time to time. But that was it. Her restaurant business growing ever bigger, she had little time for them. Same story as far as their dad was concerned.

So their parents never knew of the type of friends they had in school. And that was unfortunate, because they both fell into bad company. From the junior secondary school up to the second-cycle institution, Robert had friends that were into drugs and being bad, as did his sister, whose friends were also into sleeping with boys indiscriminately.

The policeman had winced as they recounted the negligence of their parents. He could never imagine himself ignoring his own children like that. But that was just the tip of the iceberg, as Robert began to speak of how deep they had gone into the drug trade.

His first taste of illegal drugs came in secondary school, and as one would expect, it was Indian hemp he used. Ever since, he had become so addicted to it, and had even tried out others, leading him to do so many horrid things.

After dropping out in his final year, he hadn’t returned home, and strayed mainly on the streets. He had witnessed two young men die just after experimenting with the crack form of cocaine. His best friend, in a bid to stop, had died as a result of the withdrawal symptoms. Due to all this, he was hesitant to end his addiction. He was so hooked, he had sold practically all his clothes, gadgets and personal stuff just to keep taking in that stuff. He mentioned conning so many people into giving him money. He even confessed to breaking into one expensive car and stealing GH¢4,000, just to spend it all on drugs.

Alice’s story was much more horrifying.

After being introduced to the trade, she had also deteriorated badly, turning into a prostitute. It was through one of her many ‘business patrols’ that she bumped into her brother. They had never had that sibling rivalry, but as they got together, drugs induced a serious, unfriendly and occasionally violent one between them. She told them that drugs was the only reason she was a prostitute. Sometimes, when customers were hard to come by, she confessed to even having sexual relations with other animals in order to get paid by those who would film the repulsive act.

The policeman was on the verge of nausea by the time they had both told their stories.

Sitting in front of he and his wife were two drug addicts, ruined by the illicit substances. Thanks to negligence, they had been wrecked completely by drugs. The simple love and care they had required from their parents had been cruelly denied them, pushing them into this horrible. As he sat there trying to remove the disgusting image of Alice being humped by a horse, the young, dirty, emaciated girl spoke up.

“I hate this life of mine. I wanna change. I wanna be a normal girl,” she confessed, tears running down her cheeks. She looked miserable, truly unhappy with the type of life she was living. Her brother murmured, “Me too. I just wanna live a normal life.” He then reached out and put his arm around his sobbing sister.

It was a sad sight, seeing the two of them in such a sorrowful state. The policeman looked at his wife, who was close to tears, and shook his head. It was no coincidence that he had chanced upon these two youngsters. It was meant for him to meet them, and his duty to get them out of this rut. His wife, who happened to be a seasoned counselor in her church, patted his knee, signaling her readiness for the new task at hand.

It was long, hard and very painful process. The withdrawal symptoms had a horrible effect on them. The prayers for them were fervent and numerous. But eventually, this policeman and his wife helped get Robert and Alice get out of drugs. Robert went on to become a successful architect, while Alice became a well-known and powerful woman of God. Both got married and had lovely children, but remembered the way they had been neglected as kids, and gave their children all the affection they could give them. And throughout their lives, they never forgot the kind policeman, who helped them out of the nasty life drug abuse had pushed them into.

Another Year Coming To An End

A few minutes to the end of 2016!!

It’s been a highly memorable year for me. With its highs and lows.

I remember the week on which my birthday fell. One of the worst weeks I’ve ever experienced. Things happened which are engraved in my brain, but the repercussions didn’t go overboard as they had threatened to. I’m so thankful to God for that.

My academics took quite a nosedive. For the first time, I sat in a church service and felt totally discouraged by all the testimonies given. People were talking about how they had struggled and yet had good grades, and there I was with a nasty report card. Hmmm, it was tough.

These are a few lows, but I’m glad to say that the highs outweigh them by far.

I had a number of great experiences throughout the year. Most of which included the whole spoken word thingy.

For one, I found myself on radio for the first time in January. Pluzz FM. It was a great time with the TRP peeps as we shared our stuff.

Then I remember the Rainmakers event I attended in February. Not many people were around, but the ambience was top-notch, and I have reason to believe that helped me get connected to many within the fraternity.

Basically, with TRP, we showed up at many events, but the ones that really stick out are the Casual Sunday service at Firm Foundation’s 1st anniversary (it was absolutely awesome!), our appearance at the Citi Voice Factory (it’s still interesting how it started to rain and we made it through, and as a result, I became an avid listener of Citi CBS!) and the Poetrybank event (that was undoubtedly one of my best performances since I ever started doing this craft). It’s been a memorable year for the team. Add to that, the successful release of our EP.

This year, I met a lot of new people, and I’m glad I did. All great people in their own ways. The stand-out peeps are…

Philipa! The new member of TRP. She joined us in July, and it’s been fun knowing her ever since. You have no idea how fun it is teasing her!

Nana Araba! This young lady was my invigilator during my exams, and afterwards, I got to know her personally. Another memorable entry into my life!

Oh, and of course, my month-and-a-half internship at Fugar and Company introduced me to other peeps. Well, I might just say, ladies. Kuukua, Rachel, Akua Agyimaa, Divine, Wendy and Rama, it was great knowing y’all!!!

So, that internship was insightful. I got to go to the Court Complex and see how things are for the people in the legal profession. I even got the chance to go to the Supreme Court. I saw Justice Atuguba for myself!!! Yieyieeeee!!!

OK, so what else was there to remember?

Hmmm, those who didn’t make it. One sweet friend of mine, Phoebe, lost her mum in the course of the year. At church, one homie nicknamed Blackboi tragically passed. The Chapecoense incident was depressing, as well as the numerous terrorist attacks that went on. On this note, I believe we should all be thankful as Ghanaians that the target that had been placed on us was averted. Only His grace.

As far as world news is concerned, I guess the major things that come to mind are the elections of USA and Ghana. Donald Trump won the presidency!!! I really didn’t think it would happen, but it did. And after 8 years of taking Ls at the polls, Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo is finally gonna be the president of GH. Interesting times ahead.

This was a very quiet year for me with regards to relationships. Nothing really came up. So I can keep my expectations where they are for 2017.

By the way, the ‘Start Over’ series I did in June was a big success!! I thank all my readers for patronizing it.

I guess my thoughts are quite jumbled, but as a whole, I’m very grateful for how God has been good to me in 2016. I wouldn’t have made it through without Him. I know that 2017 is in His hands. Let Him lead.

So, About ‘First Of All’

The year 2016 has been a very good one for ThroneRoom Perspective. We’ve been in the system for quite a while, but we started out only within the four walls of the church. It was later on that we started to make ourselves known beyond Action Chapel, and this year has been a major break-out. We’ve been on three radio stations, namely Pluzz FM, Citi FM and Radio Univers, ministered and performed at quite a number of events, had a new member join, as well as others rejoining…

…and of course, the major achievement: our first group EP!!

Dope album art, eh? I love it!!
Dope album art, eh? I love it!!

‘First Of All’ had been a postponed project for quite a long time, but finally oooooo!! Lol, I couldn’t resist.

The support we got was wonderful, and we’re absolutely grateful. In the meantime, you could consider this a review…

So, I guess our EP titles so far have been quite introductory in nature. I mean, ‘Something To Start With’? ‘First Of All’? lol. A bit of a pattern, isn’t it?

Anyways, the EP kicks off with a banging beginner named ‘US’, where the group lays out the foundation of what they’re all about. Creativity with a heavy dosage of Soli Deo Gloria. Not a bad way to start it off, though the second verse could have been done with more passion.

Moving on to the individual tracks, Philipa, who happens to be the newest member of TRP, starts off with ‘Lucozade Asante’, a story of a promiscuous guy facing the consequences of his lust-filled actions. The first time I heard her do this was the first time I actually met her at a rehearsal for a church program. I definitely wasn’t expecting all those punchlines and wordplay, but they came, and they didn’t detract from the content of the message. One of the standout tracks on the EP, her strong voice lends a lot of weight to the poem. My personal favourite line is the ‘Galamsey’ line. I’ll leave you to hear it for yourself. In all this, the message is very clear: we should be wary of how we’re living. Satisfying that fleshly desire whenever it calls, just as Lucozade Asante did, will only cause you great hurt. Not only in this life, but in the one to come.

George Asante opens up the door to the reality of hip-hop music in the next track, ‘Trap Music’. Being a person who was once pretty deep in that genre, I identify very well with the content. His pretty vivid description of all that comes with being a hip-hop fan is on point. From the intense admiration for your favourite rapper to all the subject matter they promote, he covers it all. Then an appeal to consider what music really should be about. His use of words are interesting as he aptly outlines what the average lover of rhyme spitters comes into contact with. I feel some may be slightly critical of his refusal to outright condemn or criticize the negative lyrical content a lot of hip-hop music produces, but then, I’m assuming he rather intended that the description and the ending line would work in tandem to leave a listener to think hard about whether it is worth plugging in music that glorifies drugs, promiscuity and materialism.

Love Made Us’ by Korankye is what follows, and as the name suggests, it’s centered around everybody’s favourite subject – love. He steps into the mind of a young man smitten by an attractive girl, who ponders over his new state. Unless you’re an absolute angel, as a guy, you’re no stranger to the feelings of when you’ve set eyes upon a gorgeous lady. The fickle nature of those feelings, though, is something usually lost on us, and that’s what Korankye deals with in this poem. With some crazy wordplay and metaphors, he opens up about being clueless with regard to how relationships should go, acknowledgment of the insufficiency of his feelings, and ultimately, recognizing that God’s guiding hand is needed if anything good will come out of it.

PF (Paul Folivi) comes in next with ‘Dear Pastor’. I’ll just go ahead and say it’s my favourite on the whole EP.

The beat is dope, for one. And the message is as hard-hitting as it gets. A challenge to the man of God who says one thing and does another. Clearly a wakeup call to those abusing the servanthood position and using it for their own selfish benefit. It takes quite a few listens to see a particular mindset he takes aim at, and his defiance in standing firm in his conviction, not worried about any label that would be slapped upon him as a result. It seems simple at first listen, but a few playbacks will open your eyes to the weight of his message. It’s heavy.

Yours truly rounds off the solo tracks with ‘Explaining Myself’. Probably a message not spoken of enough in these times. In typical semi-loquacious style, Qwamenah points out a weakness that once held him bound: the need to always explain himself for every single mistake made. He exposes it as a form of pride and a mirage of defeating his fears. His celebration of enlightenment, though, is not the normal way you’d expect. Whereas most would proclaim total freedom from the bondage, he states that he’s “still learning” to fight the urge and remember that it’s not so necessary to always give explanations, but it’s better to rise from those errors and learn to do better. This is one poem that is full of big words and imagery, but the language certainly is straight enough to let the listener know of the need to fight the beastly virus of perfectionism.

The EP ends with the teaser that was released a month before the EP’s actual release. ‘Word Art’. Not too different in content with US, this has every poet dropping at least one interesting punchline. And if you’re gonna flow with the ending, then it’s just a reminder that this is just the beginning of big things from the group. And at the end of it, the name of the producer is revealed…

Mr. Trench!!!

This was a well done spoken word EP. Production well done. Arrangement well done. Poems well done. Of course, nothing is perfect, and personally, the only skirmish would have to be in the first track, where the second verse is rather dull and not so inspiring, and the fourth verse ended a little too abruptly. Others would have their issues elsewhere, but the EP as a whole was done very well.

Profound appreciation goes to Henson Trench for the tireless work put in producing this project, to Elorm Agbemehin aka Purixt for the beautiful album art (I’m personally so obsessed with how good it looks) and to everyone who has listened and sent in compliments (special thanks to Kpodola! They’re doing a great job as a portal for GH spoken word), and our fanbase. Like you heard at the end of Word Art, we’re really just scratching the surface. 2017 promises to be a great year for spoken word and we’re not slacking at all. Expect a lot more from ThroneRoom Perspective! And don’t forget, #KeepCalmCozWe’reInspired !!!!!

You can download the EP here or just stream at our Soundcloud page.

Where Is He?

So I am working on something new for the incoming year, but I thought letting this fly wouldn’t be a bad idea. 3-part story. I hope you like it!

Robert lay prostrate on the floor, absolutely stressed out.

Sixty hours now. Nothing good had come through.

His brain was an absolute mess of confusion and bewilderment. Terrifying thoughts. Scary thoughts. Nightmarish thoughts. Hopeful thoughts. All these thoughts muddled up his brain, and as he lay there on the floor of his living room, thinking straight was a straight impossibility.

Where is he? Has somebody cut his head off? Has he been shipped off to another country? Has he been used for rituals? How do I live without him? What am I going to do? How do I swallow yet another loss?

Even with the madness going on in his brain, his ears remained alert as he remained prostrate, somehow hoping to hear the excited, ever-enthusiastic shouts of a little six year old boy who resembled him so much.

Not a sound.

Thursday morning had been the last time the walls had heard anything close to such a sound. Little Benjamin was following his father out the door as another day of school beckoned. Robert had done the usual: bought the newspapers from the vendor right around their junction, bought the usual Kalyppo and Jack & Jill biscuits from the shop just a few metres away from the school, given his son the usual hug as he let him out of the car and reminded him, “Study hard and don’t get into any trouble!” before driving off.

It was one-thirty when the receptionist at the BUSAQ office in which he worked informed him of an urgent call from the school authorities.

After second break, Benjamin had not returned to his class, and he was nowhere to be found.

Upon arrival at the school’s premises, it took every ounce of self-control in him to not break out into a rage and verbally assault the teaching staff for their negligence. His calm countenance as the headmistress and other teachers walked and talked with him was an absolute betrayal of the boiling cauldron within.

Eventually, the police were called, and they sent out a search party to begin rigorously seeking the whereabouts of the young child. Night came, and there was no clue of where he was.

The next day was an absolute nightmare for Robert. If there was a word stronger than ‘distracted’, it would definitely be a good word to describe his state of mind. Try as he might, he just could not concentrate on the tasks handed out to him for the day. At eleven-thirty, he decided enough was enough. Walking to his boss’ office, he informed him of the unfortunate happenings of the previous day. His boss was not the soft type, but being a father of five children, his skin definitely crawled at the idea of having one of his children missing. Granting him permission to leave, he grabbed Robert’s hands and prayed with him and encouraged him before letting him out of the office.

By evening, most of his friends and other relatives had caught wind of the news, and a plethora of calls came flooding. Some came through with words of encouragement. Some annoying relatives were practically enacting the boy’s ‘funeral’ as they wailed uncontrollably. Robert was obviously ticked off by that, and either told them to shut up or just made use of the reject button.

Nothing got him angrier, though, than the call that came from an acquaintance, whom was known to the guys as T.K. This guy was a rather carefree spirit, loving the life of no responsibility, and that attitude somehow didn’t regard this occurrence as a big deal. Not that it was mandatory for him to feel that way, but calling to say ‘it’s not that big a deal’ and playing the ‘hard guy’ card was nowhere near wise. And Robert did not hesitate in offloading a barrel of fury upon T.K’s ears.

“It’s not a big deal??!! We be tough guys?? My friend, what kind of stupid drivel is this?” he snapped. “You expect me to just behave like nothing is wrong when my only child is nowhere to be found? You want me to pretend as if I don’t care that my little boy is out there, confused and scared? You think I’m more concerned about looking like a hard guy than my baby boy? Such rubbish! Listen, I’m so freaking scared right now! This is my son we’re talking about. I lost the love of my life three years ago, and the last thing I need is this! If you can’t say anything that has a hint of sense in it, then don’t even bother touching your phone with the intent of calling me! Keep your fragile, myopic, dim-witted crap to yourself!”

He tossed the phone aside. He’d delete the guy’s number later. No time for such clowns in his life.

Saturday morning, and there was no desire to take up his usual seating position in the living room while listening to the political discussions of Joy FM. He remained sprawled out on the floor, praying, hoping, despairing and panicking all at the same time.

He was yet to make an absolutely full recovery from the tragic, evocative memories of that tipper truck smashing into the black and yellow Kia taxi that had his wife, Samira, sitting in it right before his eyes. Despite numerous attempts, getting out there and dating was too difficult a task for him. He had given up at a point and decided he would just stay single for the time being. As to whether that would change with time, he didn’t know.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. In a crazied frenzy, he rushed to the table where it was, and upon seeing the number of the Chief Superintendent, he answered quickly, “Hello? Have you found him? Any good news yet?”

Considering the state of mind he was in, keeping a calm front was not an option. He needed answers ASAP.

The superintendent seemingly wasn’t too surprised by the onslaught of questions. Taking a deep breath, though, was already a signal to the distraught father that whatever was going to be said was not of an affirmative nature.

“Mr. Bart-Plange… not yet. We’re still searching…”

“Still searching??! Then why did you call me? What do you have to tell me?”

“Sir, please, I know you’re anxious and all, but please, calm down,” the superintendent calmly pleaded. “We’re working around the clock to find him. We haven’t given up and there’s absolutely no way we’re doing so. I wanted to assure you that there’s no bad news, and keep praying. We’re moving out of town to the other regions, because at this rate, the abductor may well have moved out of Accra…”

Robert was ready to vent, but the calmness and empathy in the officer’s voice convinced him to hold back the ether on his tongue. He didn’t hear the rest of the statement, but just placed his hand over his forehead and murmured, more to himself than to the superintendent.

“Oh God, please, please, don’t let my son die. I’ve already lost Samira, I don’t know what I would do if I lost Benjy. Please, please bring him home safe.”

The officer sighed over the line. This was no new case to him. He had handled so many of these missing children cases, and each case brought with it the emotions of panic, anxiety and thin hope. He had seen parents reunited with their lost children and felt that beautiful rush of relief pour over him like a pail full of cold water after hard work in the sun. He had seen mothers and fathers inconsolable as they discovered the bodies of their little ones, and the anvil of despondency dropping deep into his bowels. Thirty-two years into the job, and desensitization was not even an option. He still felt the pain when the lost child was found dead, and the joy when they were found alive.

“Sir, there’s not much I can do at the moment, but I think you should get yourself in good company right now. Family and friends that can hold your hand and pray with you through this.”


“We’re still working. Rest assured of that. His picture is on social media as well, so that should help our cause even more. I’m confident there will be good news. I’ll talk to you later, Mr. Bart-Plange.” The line went dead.

He placed the phone back on the table. The superintendent was right.

And he knew where to go…

Part 2 to come on Wednesday. Stay tuned!

Where Is He? 2

No long talk. Let’s find out what’s happening with Robert. And let’s hope his little boy is found soon…

“All is well, Robert,” Nana Kyereme said soothingly as he patted him on the back. “I am confident that the God we serve will find Benjamin and bring him back home.”

He nodded. The tension hadn’t totally subsided, but the superintendent had spoken absolute wisdom when he told him to find himself among people who would hold him up. None could do that better than Nana and Godfred.

He had known them for a short period of time, not long after Samira’s passing, but they had already proven to be friends that stuck closer than brothers. Massive encouragers who knew how to get him to laugh, awesome uncles to the little one… they were God-sent friends. What he loved the most about them was the clear lack of haughtiness and stoic attitude in their character. It was rather unfortunate that most believers he knew tended to be so ‘highly spiritual’, being transparent was Lucifer-esque in their sight. These guys, though, were clearly so heavenly-minded that they were of earthly good. He knew that in meeting up with these brothers, they wouldn’t just leave the situation at some short prayer, but would seek to lift his spirits as much as possible. They had done just that.

“Chale, praise God the police make wild on this case,” Godfred said as he emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee for Robert. “If I go be very honest, I no dey trust GH police. After some trend bi I see for Twitter, the stories make I lose vim in them. But I go give them plaudits this time round.”

Robert cracked a slight smile and nodded as he took the mug. He had seen that trend, and some of the stories had been startling.

“Aside that, Benjy’s picture is pretty viral right now,” Nana Kyereme remarked as he looked at his phone. After a little bit of screen-touching, he announced, “1,786 retweets so far. And it looks like people are really talking about it. The news has gone far, ma guy. I’m confident. Wherever he is, he’ll be found.”

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As Azah pressed the tweet button on his phone, he looked at the tweet with satisfaction, turned the screen off and placed the phone in his pocket.

Time to meet with the boys outisde.

Stepping out, he met the usual suspects.

Stringazy. Magadozia. Kelvin. Huxtable. Illiasu.

“Chale, what dey happen?”

As the homies huddled in a group, greeting each other with the various secret handshake combinations they had taught themselves, it was clear they were ready for another day of doing what they did best.

Roam the streets, hang around and spy on the ladies that passed their way. If the timing was right, maybe attempt to pick up a number or two.

Having failed to gain admission to university, these six were SHS graduates who chose to go the easy way of just ‘chilling’. The complaints were many from their parents, but they were carefree. None of them did drugs, and showing up at bars and getting drunk wasn’t a constant for them, so they were convinced in themselves that they weren’t so bad.

As they moved along the streets, discussion topics centered on the latest social media trends, Azah spoke up and said, “Chale, you guys hear about the Benjamin kiddie?”

“Yeah, chale. Ibi worrying matter paa. I no sure sey ein mommi then poppi fit bed. Ibi crazy, chale,” Illiasu remarked.

“Oh, I sure sey them go find am,” Stringazy responded.

They discussed the issue for a couple of minutes, then went back to arguing over who the best underground rapper was.

As they continued their rather loud debate, Azah’s side eye took note of the parked car on the opposite side of the road.

A sleek, white Chevrolet Malibu.

Meaning that Jozi was around.

Real name Joseph Ampong, he was well known by many in town. The classy young man who was often found at events looking super dapper, with a cute smile and a charming person that had everyone attracted to him. With a calm, respectful demeanour to boot, he was one with a positive reputation.

He was on good terms with the guys, even though he didn’t really bond with them that much. Every time they met up, he was busy on his usual rounds, and had time for only a few wassups and I deys.

It was very likely it would be the same this time round, but that didn’t stop Azah and Kelvin from heading in the direction of the car, just to admire it as they usually did.

“Chale, these customized rims eh, sizeless oo!” Kelvin exclaimed as they got close. The windows were tinted, so it was difficult to look inside. They were sure it was his usual documents scattered all over the seats, as he often said when he spoke to them.

Azah nodded. Stepping back to take a look at the license plate, which read JOZI – 11, he said, “I see this license plate saaa, but still, edey bee me roff…”


The two, startled by that, looked up.

It was Jozi.

In a three-piece suit as usual, he was walking briskly towards them. The look on his face, however, was far from friendly.

“Hey, will you move away from my car? Get out!”

The looks of utter shock on the faces of the two, and the other guys at the other side were plain to see. This was not the first time Jozi had seen them admiring the car, and he had never flipped out on them and yelled at them before. With the way he was moving, though, they knew it would be wise to do what he said, so they quickly joined the others.

Jozi glared at them as he pressed the unlock button on his car key. “Useless boys! You won’t get something better to do with your lives! Do something useful with yourselves! Hoh!” he yelled before getting into the car, starting the engine and speeding off.

The boys looked confused.

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6:43 pm, and still no news yet.


The Superintendent paced about his office, clearly concerned. The last two cases he had dealt with that not gone well. The first found the young girl dead after being raped, and the whereabouts of the second one was still a mystery.

As he walked up and down the office, mumbling prayers more to himself than to God, the phone rang.

Maintaining his composure, he calmly picked it up and answered.

After about ten seconds of listening, he exclaimed, “What??!! Really?”

How is this story gonna end? Good or bad? Well, Friday will let us know what’s going down. Stay tuned!!

Crazy Election Season

The election season in Ghana is officially over, and after all the campaigns, silly propaganda and all that came with it, we have a new president!!

From Wednesday to Friday evening, it’s been such a crazy time. How do it go for yours truly?


I woke up pretty early, feeling a bit of both excitement and tension. After all the noise that had been made, it was finally time to exercise our franchise!

Personally, my mind was totally made up. I was not satisfied with the incumbent government, and I wanted a change. So as I picked up my voters ID card, there was only one candidate that would have my thumbprint next to his picture.

I got to my polling station with my dad and sister at about 7:30 am, which was just outside the Manet Court gate. Two different queues greeted us. According to the officials, the one on the right was for those whose names on the ID card started from A-J. Left was for the others. So my sister and I went to the other side (I’ll just resist the urge to say that Adele style. lol)

The queue wasn’t so long, and considering how we had to wait for almost 3 hours in 2012, I was pretty happy.

The annoying aspect, though: the queue moved so slow. Sheesh!!

I spent the equivalent of a football match in the queue before voting. You know what was annoying? My mum came about 30 minutes after we got in line, and she had to go to the other side, but at the time I slotted my parliamentary ballot into the box, she had finished long time!


Well, whatever. At least, the process was smooth. I was very pleased with my heartthrob. (In case you’re confused, that’s Charlotte Osei. Bae extraordinaire)

So I went home, and did a few things. Waiting for 5 o’clock to come. All the while listening to Citi FM (I don’t joke with that station ooo), keeping up to date on the happenings around the country.

5 o’ clock came, and so came the wait for the polling station results to come trickling in. Unlike 2008 and 2012, I didn’t step out of the house to witness the counting. I stayed indoors and stuck to the news.

So little by little, some results started to emerge.

And they were looking pretty good. From the perspective of someone who voted against the current government, obviously.

Seeing small, small victories in places I was not really expecting to see. I later heard that Nana Addo won at my polling station, which was significant. First time he had ever won there. He lost in the 2 rounds of 2008 and in 2012, so this was quite interesting. And given the history of the Ledzokuku constituency, it would be massive if he won.

So, like every curious Ghanaian, I was keenly following what the media was letting us know. I remember the surprise I had when the UTV rep at La Dadekotopon read out some figures that suggested a possible loss for the parliamentary candidate. Chale! I know Nii Amasah Namoale from Zenith, and quite honestly, I expected him to cruise through, but it sounded like a loss was coming. Not expected, chale!

The peeps I expected to win parliamentary seats were him, Zanetor Rawlings, Kojo Oppong-Nkrumah and Dr. Oko Boye (the candidate for my area).

So, the provisional results continued to flow in, and having taken a nap earlier in the day, I was nowhere near sleepy as midnight approached.


Honestly, this is my favourite part of the whole season! I’m very sure more than half of GH was not asleep. It was soooo active on social media. Just waiting for what comes next. We’ve had provisional results, but where is the EC certified stuff?

Somewhere around 1 or 1:30, a press statement came from a lady in JM’s campaign team. She sought to assure NDC supporters that JM was leading, and that they should keep calm and wait for the EC to say something.

Ok, so that statement wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t very enthused with the mention of JM’s comfortable lead. I felt it was unnecessary.

However, compared to what followed next, it was pretty harmless.

NPP held a press conference, where the speaker blatantly declared Nana Addo to be firmly in the lead, and called on the others to concede defeat.

I heard that, and I was like, “What nonsense is that? Why are they trying to usurp the job of the EC?” I wasn’t amused at all. Very careless action, in my book. An action of desperation, and I disliked it big time.

Then by 3 am, yet another presser. Lol. This time, from the EC.

What did they say?

For one, they struck out NPP’s claim and put forth a reminder that only they have the legal mandate to declare who won. Secondly? They had not received any official results.

I remember how that sent Twitter into meltdown. 10 hours after the polls had ended, and there was not a single certified result? For real?

Whoever was handling the EC’s Twitter account, eh… that person suffered! Blastings be what? Eiiii!! Hahaha!!

Then one of the highlights.

Gabby Otchere-Darko, getting hold of some info about Edward Mahama conceding defeat, tweeted it. And he didn’t add the first name.


The President’s response was epic.


Legendary tweet right there, people.

I dozed off here and there, but by 6 am, some great news came through.


According to Citi, Ledzokuku had a new MP!!! Woohooo!!!

I know Dr. Oko Boye to be one heck of a hard worker, so I was delighted to hear that he had won.

But then, I started hearing that Hanna Tetteh had lost her seat. And on Twitter streets, there was a lot of glee over that. Clearly, squad had not forgotten the sarcastic tweets about Occupy Flagstaff House in 2014, and were too happy to troll her about it.

The savagery.


And my classmate had lost his seat. Honestly, I thought he wouldn’t have a problem retaining his seat. But the people there thought otherwise.


Anyway, as the sun rose, more results came in, and the various media houses started projecting what they had. Some of the results from the Ashanti and Volta regions were delivering the usual heaviness!! On a serious note, though, I realised people turn a blind eye to the mega gaps in the Ashanti region and blast the Voltarians for theirs. Double standards, people. We should do better.

Some of the media houses had JM in the lead, and I noticed how one NDC sympathizer was quick to post it round. I thought I’d play the EC card a lil bit, but that was cut short by some unfortunate news.

So my Thursday was slightly shaken up from then onwards, though I still kept an eye on how things were going.


More press conferences. The first one was by Charlotte Osei (insert love-struck sigh here. Haha!) She came to do some clarification and left us with a maxim: Accuracy over speed.

Then there was one from General Mosquito. He also had some issues to clear up, which caught my interest. He outlined them, stated that NPP needs to be brought to order, and that JM was gonna cruise to victory.

A tiny little issue, though.

The other candidates had already conceded defeat and congratulated Nana Addo. A bit premature, but they did it. Wouldn’t they have sent their wishes to JM if he was winning? Anyways…

Then from Nana Addo himself. Simply an urge to supporters to respect the EC’s process and hold on. He made mention of the congratulatory messages from the others. I’m sure some think they weren’t real, but as Citi FM’s Bernard Avle pointed out later, if those messages were false, the candidates would’ve come out to rebut them.

By evening, more constituencies were rolling in, and provisional results showed that Nana Addo was most likely gonna win ‘one-touch’. Very necessary. A run-off would wreck our Christmas plans. From all indications, he had captured most of the swing regions, which is usually vital in winning.


I definitely did not have time to stay woke for a 2nd night running. When I woke up early on Friday, the projections were showing Nana Addo to be the president elect.


At that point, I saw quite a number of NDC supporters graciously throw in the towel. I’m talking die-hard supporters. Graciously accepting that JM had lost.

As you’d expect on Twitter, a lot of memes and teases were making the rounds. I promise, creativity on social media is unmatched!!





A press conference by Ade Coker, though, had me quite incredulous. There he was, encouraging supporters to relax, and insisting that JM was winning.

I’m like, ‘What world are you living in, sir? JM doesn’t have 49% mpo. Be realistic.’


Lemme add, at this point, I wished I hadn’t downloaded the ThumbsApp. Not a single result as at that time. Kmt.

Inasmuch as I was excited, I felt celebrations should have been a lil muted. After all, Auntie Charlotte was yet to say anything. But whatever. It was quite obvious at this point that the man who was bounced twice would be 3rd time lucky.

NDC, though, were now starting to show some pathetic signs of desperation and delusion that baffled me.

Some Twitter accounts were putting out a whole lot of junk, insisting that what we were seeing was false, and that NDC were in a clear, commanding lead. Some were now fiercely accusing the media houses of being compromised by the NPP. Some claimed NPP had hacked the EC accounts. The leaders and their radio stations were adamant that their flagbearer was going to win.


That really ticked me off. Seriously?? The same Metro TV, TV3, Joy FM, Citi FM and others that projected JM to win in 2012 were now liars? This desperation to hold on to power was simply revolting. Even these hardcore supporters I’m talking about abhorred what was going on.

Then there was a short statement from the President.

He asked for calm among his supporters, and stated that he would accept the outcome of the results. Whether positive or negative.


In the midst of all the foolishness being displayed by his party, JM managed to be a beacon of maturity and levelheadedness. I was so grateful to hear him say that.

And please, I’d be careless to ignore the latest fashion trend set by the General. Smock and snapback!!


Later on, Bae Extraordinaire came around to give us an update, letting us know that work was being done, and we’d get the results soon.

I must admit, at this point, I wished she’d at least let us know how far things were, so we could be assured of what was coming, and so the people still whinging about a JM win would shut the hell up.

Do I talk about Ayariga here? Nah, I don’t want to. Not worth it.

Evening came, and impatience was starting to simmer. As if it wasn’t already. Papa Kwesi Nduom was interviewed on Joy TV, and it was quite clear he wasn’t enthused with the delay. We all just wanted to hear the official announcement and get on with life.

Then at about 8 pm, breaking news!

President Mahama had called Nana Addo to concede defeat.

Finally ooooooo!!!!

It was official: Ghana had a new president!!

So Mrs. Osei came in to announce the results and officially declare Nana Addo as the new president.

Then followed the victory speech from the president elect. Inspiring.

If anything sticks, it’s his promise that he will not let Ghanaians down.

Then there was the concession speech from Mahama.

Truth be told, it looked like Mahama was pretty heartbroken over this L. He did a good job delivering his speech. Well, he’s a boss at communications, so…

Then the party started.

GH was pappin, chale!! It’s almost as if the Black Stars had won AFCON. No kidding!!

Crazy season, but I enjoyed every moment of it.

Plaudits go to my fellow Ghanaians. Y’all are the winners in this! Those of you who wanted change like me didn’t just tweet about it, but went out and made it happen. Y’all proved that the politicians are there to serve us, and when they fail, we got the mandate to kick them out! To those who wanted continuation and graciously accepted this, I respect your maturity. This election has shown me there are many people out there who don’t operate on silly partisanship, but an objective desire to see the best for this country. Y’all are MVPs. I salute you. We’ll definitely lift this country up with that attitude.

Plaudits to the Electoral Commission. This was my 2nd time voting, and I was far more impressed than 2012’s own. I still think the app was a waste of data, and the wait was itchy. But hey, they ended up doing a good job. Charlotte Osei wasn’t the disaster many predicted she would be. Her calm demeanour and firmness is admirable, considering how she’s received so much flak over the past few months.  Well done, Mrs. Osei. You’re definitely high on my list of crushes! (Lol, ain’t I too old for that?)

Plaudits to the media houses. Those people worked!!! Herh!! This season has been gruelling for them, but they delivered efficiently. Special shout out to the station I’m hooked on every morning, Citi FM. Bernard, Richard Sky, Nana Ama, Umaru Sanda and all the others did their job excellently. Shout outs to GHOne TV (Kafui Dey!! You should know why I’m mentioning him), Peace FM, UTV, Joy News and every other house that worked tirelessly to help Ghanaians know what was going on.

Plaudits to the new MPs. I’m looking forward to the likes of Zanetor and Kojo Oppong-Nkrumah in parliament; I feel they have a lot to offer Ghana. But the one I’m most ecstatic about is Ledzokuku’s new MP, Dr. Bernard Oko Boye!!! I’m so excited about this man’s potential. Hopefully, with hard work, he’ll break that record of the constituency changing MPs at every election and stay on after 2020.

Plaudits to the outgoing president, John Dramani Mahama. I have absolutely no regrets about being one of the millions who voted him out. I’m still fully convinced his term in office was not good, and that his government does not deserve a 2nd term, and I’m unapologetic about that. Stick your insults & arguments in your pocket. But I’m grateful for his maturity and graciousness. Whilst his party people were running helter-skelter, acting like they’re entitled to power, he acted reasonably and did the right thing. It would be foolish to overlook that. And that tweet goes down as a legendary one!! You can take a seat, sir. I won’t look at your term of office with much fondness, but the respect remains untouched.

To those raining insults on him, please. Stop it. He still will go down in history as one of Ghana’s presidents, and commands respect nonetheless. There’s no need to hate him. Just hate his time in office.

Plaudits to the new President Elect, Nana Addo Danquah Akuffo-Addo. After all the Ls he’s taken, I’m delighted to see him finally take the reins of this country. He’s now a standard for never giving up in this country. I’m eagerly looking forward to what he has to offer this nation. I certainly pray he does a good job, coz I’m not alone when I say that my vote is not on auto-pilot, and a bad reign will certainly see me seek to vote him out. That said, I’m thinking positive. God will help him to deliver…

To those being sarcastic and negative about his reign, please. Stop it. It’s time to support him. He’s gonna be the Prez of GH, not NPP. Your unnecessary dislike won’t help.

And of course, most of all, all praise and glory to the Almighty God. The smoothness of this election would not have been possible without His grace. All Ghana is, and has, and will ever be, is down to Him alone, and we’ll never cease to thank Him for that.

I’m looking forward to a time when politics of insults and ridiculous propaganda ceases. I saw too many supporters of both parties being heavily abusive towards their opponents, and it was pathetic. I may have supported the NPP, but I certainly see no need to demonize NDC supporters. We can disagree without getting too emotional. I’m looking forward to seeing more NPP and NDC supporters drop the partisan attitude and calling a spade a spade. The way some turn a blind eye to their party’s faults and quickly pick up stones to throw at their opponents’ is irritating. And lemme be honest, the peace songs are a bore!! Can y’all do better, please? The campaign songs are so much better. Very few of those songs can hold a candle to ‘Nana y3 winner’, how much more the undisputed ‘Onaapo’?

Well, I’m grateful this didn’t go to a runoff. Now we can enjoy the Christmas!!

A guy with the gift of using words. Forever indebted to the One who gave him that gift.

Hondred Percent

Spoken Word Artist


For the love of words. For the power of voice.

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