The Last Bag

Panic. Whatever was I going to do?

*freeze frame and rewind* Let us start from the very beginning.

I was on my way to the airport. Excited. Very excited. [Understandably] I was on my way to the airport, on my way to a new country. A new adventure.

It is funny now that I play it back in my head.

The flight was at 2.40pm and together with my family, we had decided I would leave the house at 1.30 pm. However, I decided much later, that I would leave at 1pm. I had a mental plan; I would go get some burgers and have conversations with my significant other and then get in the airport around 2pm. Thank goodness I did not stick to this plan because then this blog post would have ended much differently.

I do not know what time exactly I left the house, but when I got to the airport, it was 1.53pm. I walked rather slowly into the airport and lazily looked out for the airline’s check in desk.

I walked to the desk and with no other people in sight confidently thought to myself, ‘I must be so serious being so early. I must be first.” And then I heard the words, “Check-ins closed!

*freeze frame, fast forward to me internally panicking*

I walked to the lady and with my saddest face ever I said, “Please let me check-in” Very indignantly she replied, “You are to check in at least 50 minutes before time.” I looked at the time and I was 5-6 minutes late. She looked like she was softening up to the look of sadness that I had proceeded to give her. I looked to my right and there was an airport security man with the same face that I had been wearing.

She picked up her walkie talkie and said a bunch of numbers and codes. And then, I clearly heard her say, ‘Adding one more passenger on the flight. Female. Are we clear?’ to which she received in response ‘Clear’. And then she tagged my bag so it would not be searched because it would make me late and then we raced against the time. Together.

She took me through customs and then she told me, I was going to have to send the bag to the plane myself because they were already loading. Anything to get on the plane. I walked as fast as I could and then I was in the coach on my way to the plane.

I handed my suitcase to the men in vests, and I saw my bag go up. The last bag on the plane.

I am sharing this experience to let you readers have faith in humanity at how this woman and many others helped me to make my trip. I also would like for you to understand that life-wise, sometimes you may be the last bag on the plane, but in the end, you will make in on the plane. It will take perseverance and support. Others may have made it on the plane earlier than you, but it doesn’t make them any more important than you. Individual situations and circumstances differ.

Never stop to wallow. Even when you panic, keep moving. Be the last bag.

Thankful for sympathy, without which I would not have made my flight.

*Apologies for having been gone that past days, I was settling in. *




Pleasantly Overwhelmed

If you are offered mediocre, and if you accept it, over a period of time it seems just appropriate. You settle. You might even believe that the less that is offered is more.

This is me.

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In accepting and giving the benefit of the doubt to unwarranted, and unacceptable offers, I started to fall in love with them. I was completely in ‘settle mode’ and I was not going to move. A false sense of contentment. And I would often whisper to myself, ‘You have it better than other people.’ And then one day, I moved. Everything I had was enough. but what if it could me more? A quote that resonated loudly with me said:

When you feel comfortable, it is time to move.

Moving from being comfortable for so long made me feel, pleasantly overwhelmed. These were two words I never expected to use together in a sentence. And here we are.

In moving, I had to work harder, think wider, and push myself with a force only comparable to the persistence of a telemarketer. And with every step came the doubt, the temptation to run back to my comfort place, emotional and mental calluses and the desperation that easily turned to despair. And still I moved because for the first time in a long time, I felt pride. I felt stimulated.

And then I crossed the finish line of the race started by my move. And it was beautiful and like a pot at the end of the rainbow, extremely fulfilling. It was better than everything I had been comfortable with and then I questioned my comfort.

I had moved! And it was a pleasantly overwhelming experience.

Thankful Day 3/365

I am thankful for desperation that forces me to push harder.


Bloom and Grow

Growth. It is a thing that happens to you. It happens to all of us at varying speeds. Growth makes it easier to deal with situations as they present themselves. That is what it feels like to me. An essential add-on of personal value.

I grew, and much like the edelweiss, from the infamous Sound of Music song, I plan on blooming and growing, forever. Hum the tune with me.

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It is my first day of work in a new company. I grew from an intern in an advertising agency to the Marketing Specialist of a top tech company. I knew I was growing but now, I am a big girl.

How do I feel about this? Elated. Anxious. Ready. Ready to take on the world and leave my moon prints in this space.

I think about the me from a year ago and I am pleased at my evolution. The me, who placed her personal value in the way others thought. The me, whose voice, although loud, echoed words fed to her subconsciously and delibrately. The me, from which I grew.

She now felt like a big flower. Blooming a blossoming. Her petals held by a stem so solid. A stem strenghtened by; the experiences she had overcome, an impenetrable support system, memories and lessons from the past (filled with not just laughter and happiness but sadness and pain too). More importantly, at the core of this stem were the values that she created for herself. Her rules. Her principles. Her soul.

I am still growing, and I will grow for the rest of my existence.

I am a big flower in bloom.

I will nourish and I will flourish.

Thankful Day 2/365

I am thankful for positive self reflection and introspection.


Laundry + Clean Sneakers

Let me begin with the greeting of the season; A Happy New Year.

I find that ironic and somewhat annoying because perhaps now in my maturity, I realize that time is just an abstract concept and has no bearing on events that would occur. [the words of a Twitter meme]. The new year is just the next day, an over glorified next day.

At the same time quite in contrast to my current sentiments, it is a day of newness and hope and it does symbolise the fresh start that many a person may so very much crave for. And so in the words of a friend, I will let people enjoy things.

Once again, Happy New Year!


I woke up with one resolution, do my laundry and scrub my sneakers, all of them. And I did. The laundry first, handwashing every single item from my clothes hamper. And then armed with a toothbrush, toothpaste, a sponge and detergent gave my sneakers a scrubbing. Meticulously focused on one pair after the other. Now that I think about it, it was quite the distraction for an annoying morning filled notifications and text messages from seasonal acquintances.

And then, as if sent by the gods of the internet specifically to me, I stumbled upon an article. The title; Why you can’t wash clothes on New Year’s

You have got to be kidding!? Of course I had to see this after a morning of nothing but laundry!

Naturally this piqued my interest, and from what I gathered, I had simply fucked up my 2019 by doing laundry. It was believed that by doing laundry you either wash away a family member, your good fortune and luck for the year. The funniest or should I say scariest misfortune of this grievous crime, you’ll have more laundry than usual in the next year. I told you I fucked up, I don’t want extra laundry.

And then I laughed. Who hated laundry so much that they made up these superstitions? That’s what they were; superstitions. I played a scene in my head with a mother asking for laundry to be done and her twins mischeviously smart retorting, ‘Do you want to wash away our good luck mother?’ It amused me.

So here I am, the girl who did laundry on New Year’s Day, follow my story.

Thankful Day 1/365

I am thankful for laundry. At least I have got clothes.


Ineffable Thoughts

I have been on a hiatus from this blog and in hindsight, it was probably the worst thing that I could have done.

The past couple of months have been nothing short of an adventure. Adventure is putting it lightly. It has be grueling, long and treacherous. Was it going to end? Has it ended. Is it just starting?

I wish I knew.

I can only describe the past couple of months as a mentally exhausting series with very little to learn and so much to experience.

I have not been myself. And in not being myself , I am finding myself? I hope that is true because quite honestly I still cannot figure out what the last few months have been about.

This post is vague, and quite intentionally so. It is as vague as my thoughts, emotions, feelings, experience and


It is like being in a trance where you are very aware and yet so lost.

And this is why not writing was a bad idea. Writing could have brought me back to me.

Here is to expression.


Friday Nights and Halloween

It is Friday. The office is almost empty. Everyone is gone for Felix’s wedding. Felix is getting married! Felix got married, and per the pictures it was AWESOME! He looked like such a buftin on his throne with his queen. I do not fancy weddings much {restless child problems} but that was beautiful!

I am going out with my sister and my friend later after work so that should be all kinds of awesome. I say ‘awesome’ way too much.

17:00 – I don’t remember

Dede called me  to come pick her up from her office. We met up at Naya’s office because she had the car and it was more convenient that way. We got to Naya’s office when it had already started raining cats and dog. (Why not ducks and cows?)

We  sat in the office lobby until the rain had subdued and then it was off to have fun! I wanted to go to Jamrock, because I had been there before and the smoothie was pretty nice and the springrolls, and the mood was swell and the interior decor was a fusion but not the kind of fusion that was messy. You get me.

But Naya wanted us to go to Kikibees. We did a pol on my Whatsapp status and even though Jamrock won with a lone vote, we went to Kikibees. And it was the best choice!


I knew it was the best choice when I saw the Halloween decor. With a scare-crow and pumpkin and masks and skulls and creepy things. I was going to have fun.

We tried to get a private “stall” but it smelled like pee and the tables were small and we had nothing to hide so it was pretty pointless. Kikibees has a very outdoor set up and everyone is just close together. It is great if you have company. If you don’t, meh.


So we sat out in the open with everyone else. We met our friend Augusta. Her band plays at Kikibees every Friday. We got a table of 4, next to an electric socket. #Winning. Anet joined us later. Augusta kept going back and forth between us and her band and we got the party started.

Night started off with a very pretty cocktails which I found out later was called, Mr.Norbert. It tasted just as pretty as it looked. Maybe a tad too pretty because it was soooo sweet, until I mixed it with the alcohol that stayed on top to create the gradient effect.

We got friend yams and really spicy goat meat and chicken. It was. SPICY. Very very spicy. I LOVED it!


I got me a bottle of Smirnoff Red, I prefer Black, Dee got a milk shake and we enjoyed the live band’s renditions of the old classics; Bust a Move, Osibisa’s Sun Shine day, Wonderful world. The entire ambiance was so happy-ing. I tried on a couple of costume masks and very much enjoyed myself.

We were exhausted, we had had fun. Dede went home, Naya and I went home, and the night was restful.

How are you doing?



Why I DON’T like the bank


It’s my first log of the day. Probably the only log today. I am writing from the front seat of my Uber and I am headed home. The one annoying thing about working in an agency? Work comes when the day is over.

Today was another swirl of emotions. I am in a very uncomfortable situation at the moment but let’s not get into that. Not now anyway.

I really do not like going to the bank. Especially here in Ghana. There is no effort put into creating a wonderful, hassle-free customer experience.

I shouldn’t have to wait 45 minutes in the bank for a 5 minute transaction if they can help it. Let’s look at some worst case scenarios.

  1. I could become a hostage in a bank robbery simply because I didn’t leave the bank early enough and the robbers came to the bank when I was fourth in line.
  2. I could forget my account number due to some sort of impatience induced amnesia and send my hard earned money to the wrong person.
  3. I could break my back having to shift every 7 minutes through 20 seats.
  4. I sit so long I forget how my legs work and then become a vegetable.
  5. I leave the bank without any money.

Seriously though, if I ever went to a bank and all the teller booths had attendants/tellers I would be super stoked. Unfortunately this has never happened.

You get in the bank and then come out a whole century later because even though they had 7 teller booths there were only 2 tellers.

One dealing with foreign exchange, and foreign money transfers and the other, local deposits and withdrawals. And we are under their mercy because they can decide at any time to go on a chit-chat break and they isn’t anything you can do about it.

I always leave the bank angrier than I was the last visit and I dread having to go to the bank. I’d avoid the place altogether if I could.

I shouldn’t be made to feel frustrated at the thought of getting my money. I shouldn’t feel like starvation is a better alternative to going to the bank. Cash withdrawals should leave me with a wide grin on my face.

Maybe one day I will leave a letter in the decorative boxes they have around called “suggestion” boxes. I doubt if would make a difference but one can only try.

If you are with me say Aye.

How are you doing?