Forgiveness

This is an apology from the depths of my heart to everyone who's been waiting on me to finish Bill's Story.

Life got busy as usual. But in the midst of it all, I managed to convince myself to enter a story into a short story competition which closes tomorrow!

As I type, I'm yet to enter the story I've spent time writing over the last few weeks. The logical side of me is telling me there's no way I'll so much as get shortlisted. But there's this "you never know" side which is what is going to get me to upload that story and hit the enter button.

I let in on this because I know it'll help in the forgiveness process.

I sign out of this post knowing I've been forgiven.

Thanks Guys :)

Bill's Story 7.5

Let's call this "Bill's Story 7.5, not 8 as it is shorter than usual. I figured posting whatever I have written is better than waiting for it to get longer. I hope I wasn't wrong.

And pleaaaasssse I want feedback! I need to know if I'm boring you to death or not. I don't want niceties...just facts and constructive criticism. I know you're reading cos I check my hits :)

“What do you mean by “knowing Berth”?

“Oh, she was my roommate back in uni.”

I looked at her with disbelief, wondering whether or not to believe her. She had this look on her face. It was halfway between mischief and excitement. Before I could find the right words to express my surprise, she went on,

“I’d always pictured the woman you intended to marry as a church girl. But no, I was wrong!” Who would have thought Berth would make the cut for you who thinks kissing someone who’s not your girlfriend is a crime?”

“What are you going on about Amy? You’re not making sense to me.” My understanding of her words was that Berth had a side I didn’t know about.

She rolled her eyes and only said, “Bill, not wanting to believe what you’re hearing is not the same as not understanding it.”

“Ok, so are you saying that my Berth has a side I don’t know about?”

She only clapped and gave me a thumbs up. I was curious to know what more she had to say, but I only heard myself say,

“We’ve all got history. What’s more important is what we are now - the present. Now, do you want me to finish that massage or what?” I didn’t know why, but I was beginning to get angry. I sat on the bed, and not being one to give up, she placed her feet on me and said, “Yes please. I need it.”

I continued from where I left off in silence, thinking about whatever it was Berth had in her history books.

“Look Bill,” she broke the silence. “I’m not saying Berth has done anything in particular. For all I know, she’s born again.”

“What at all did she do that makes you sound like she is not the same person you knew? How long have you known me to even be in a position to be judging me and my girlfriend?” I pushed her legs off me and got up so I could glare down at her as I asked.

Her mouth dropped open at my outburst.

“How did I judge you?”

“You judged me by assuming my Berth has a past I know nothing about.”

“But you were the same person who said we’ve all got history a few minutes ago, Bill.”

“And how does that prove that I don’t know about whatever it is that Berth has done in the past?” I countered.

“Bill dear,” she got up, walked to me, cupped my face in her palms and continued, “You know deep down that you want to know what I know about Berth. The truth hurts. Are you really ready to know?”

I pushed her hands off my face “I asked what makes you think I do not know whatever it is that you know about her? I didn’t ask you to tell me anything.” I felt I had to stand up for my woman.

“I do not think Bill, I know that you do not know. You wouldn’t be with her if you did.”

She found her shoes, angrily wore them, reached for her bag and without a backward glance at me, stepped out. I was fuming at this point.

I reached for my phone and called Kwadwo. His groggy voice reminded me I was 5 hours behind Ghana.

“Sorry for disturbing your sleep, but we need to talk.”

"What is it mate?" I mentally pictured him sitting up as he sensed the urgency in my voice.

Bill's Story 7

Looks like I had a relapse....lol But thank God for recovery. Life got extra busy after my last post, but I managed to make time to continue with the story. Apologies for keeping you waiting....and please don't give up on me :) I promise to get better at writing and posting regularly.

“I don’t know what it is you’ve been inhaling since your arrival, but you definitely are hallucinating”

So, the logical explanation to this was that I was the one hallucinating huh?

“What do you mean by that? I’ve given you my timeline. How does hallucination play into this?”

I was looking at her waiting for an answer. I think something I said gave her an idea because she jumped to her feet, and raised her hands to her puckered lips, signalling me to keep quiet.

 “For starters,” she began, “You mentioned that you’d been asleep for 30 minutes. I think you should make that 24 hours and 30 minutes because today is Monday!”

She asked for my phone and showed me the time. It really was Monday.

I let out a sigh of relief, reached for the desk chair and sat down shaking my head, surprised at what I’d just put myself through.

“Is it medically possible to sleep for 24 continuous hours?”

“You mean 24 hours and 30 minutes?” She asked with cocked eyebrows. “Even if it wasn’t, you’ve just proven it is.”

She got up from the bed and walked towards me, beckoning with her index finger. “Now, get up and give me that hug. You can’t say you are not excited to see me.”

Truth was, I did not even know how I felt about her presence. I had a foreboding about it.  I still walked into her open arms and gave her a hug.

“So, tell me what you are doing here. Where is Ralph?” I sat on the bed and she sat by me.

Instead of answering me, she scooted away from me, propped the pillow against the wall, leaned against it and said,

“My legs are killing me. Mr. Daniels did not try at all! Aaaba!”

I didn’t see the connection between my question and her statement. I did not even see the connection between her two statements!

“What has Mr. Daniels got to do with your legs Amy? And how does that answer my questions about why you’re here instead of Ralph?”

If she heard me, then she showed no sign she did. She lifted her feet off the floor, placed them on my thighs and with a dramatic wince, requested of me,

“Bill dear, could you please massage my feet for me? They are killing me.”

I wanted to protest, but it looked like such a harmless request and she seemed to be in genuine pain. I only wondered how she managed to walk in with no limp in those 6 inches if her feet were really killing her as badly as her pained face implied. I figured some things could only be understood by women.

I felt obliged to apologise for my poor massaging skills before I even touched her feet.

“I’m really sorry for the torture I’m about to subject your feet to in the name of a massage.”

She cooed at my touch, “oooo, this torture is going to be heavenly”.

I laughed not because I found it funny, but because I was beginning to feel tense and I had to find a way of letting it out. I felt I really should not be doing this. The “ooo” and “aaaa” sounds she was making with each stroke of my fingers was disconcerting. Sending my mind places I’d rather not have it go. On remembering I had some deep heat in my bag, I began to gently set her feet aside to go for it.

“Are you done already?” She did not hide her surprise. Her eyeballs looked like they were going to fall out of their sockets.

“No, I’m just picking something to help me in my job as a masseuse.”

“Alright then.” She lifted her feet off herself. I noticed there was no wince of pain this time.

“My massage seems to have already started working”, I teased as I headed towards the wardrobe to search for what I needed from my bag. I heard my phone ring as I searched. It was Berth’s ringtone. I stopped searching and turned around to go answer it but Amy had already picked the phone from the bed and was just staring at the screen, I figured she was “admiring” Berth’s picture. She didn’t notice me at the foot of the bed waiting for her to hand over the phone to me. With her eyes still fixed on the screen, she called out a little too loudly,

“Bill! Berth is calling!”

“Stop screaming Amy, I’m right here.”, I whispered to prove to her she really was screaming.

“Oh, my bad.”

 She seemed to have taken offence. She handed the phone which had stopped ringing by this time to me and made her way to the bathroom. I knew it was an attempt to give me privacy to talk. This time, she walked with an exaggerated limp with each step accompanied with a groan. I waited for Berth to call back and was greeted with,

“What took you so long to answer? I was beginning to get worried,”

There was no way I was going to answer that question. I replied with my own question,

“Why are you now calling? I was beginning to get worried too but didn’t have enough credit to call you!”

“Well, you asked me not to waste my credit calling because you were going to get a call card and call me from the hotel landline. Have you forgotten already? Ei, who have you used up all the credit on?” I knew she was only joking so I only laughed in reply.

“Well, the MTN lady has just given me my warning! Can you imagine I bought 5 cedis worth of credit and i’m being told this after less than 2 minutes of talking? She didn’t wait for me to respond. I’m going to ta-“

The line went off and I knew her credits had run out. I called her back.

“Ei, I thought you said you did not have enough credit to call me Bill”

Oh no! What was i supposed to say to this? Fact is I had credit but did not call her earlier as promised because I had company, but I knew better than to tell her that.

“I’ve some credit on my phone. I was going to use the call card so we could talk for long. I only called back to let you know I’m in a short meeting with my colleague going through our presentation for tomorrow and I’ll call back after that.”

“Oh, that’s fine then. I was going to ask if Ralph was able to make it. Let’s talk later then. Love you”

“Same here”, I replied. “Let’s talk later.”

As if on cue that I was done talking, Amy stepped out, took her position on the bed and said,

“Next time, feel free to reply “I love you too” in my presence. Knowing Berth, she’s going to pick up on why you said “same here” instead of that.”

I was confused. What did she mean by "knowing Berth?" Where did she know her from?

Bill's Story - 6

Looks like I'm winning this battle against "writing laziness". Here goes part 6...and please don't get tired. It'll soon be brought to an end ;)

For a recap, click on the links below

Bill's Story - 1

Bill's Story - 2

Bill's Story - 3

Bill's story - 4

Bill's Story - 5

I had an uneventful journey. Uneventful in the sense that for once in my air travel history, I did not find myself seated by a chatterbox who would not shut up for a second or a weirdo who repeats every single action I make. Prior to the trip, I helped Berth move her stuff to her end before she dropped me off at the airport. She was being uncharacteristically emotional about the whole moving out and my travelling thing, I almost asked her why she was doing it if she didn’t want to do it. I stopped myself because I knew it was only going to result in a lengthy talk about “this situation” in which she’s found herself. I let it pass.

I’d checked in, ordered my lunch through room service and was ready to sleep my jet lag off by 5pm after I’d called Berth to let her know I’d arrived safely. The meeting was planned to start on Tuesday. Enough time for me to get over this trans-atlantic flight. I jumped into bed ready to catch up on my missed hours of sleep.

I was woken up by a knock on the door. I groggily reached for my wristwatch from beside my pillow to check the time. It was 5:30pm. “That’s not possible”, I muttered to myself as I dragged myself towards the door, making a mental note to have the battery changed.

“Who’s there?” I looked through the peephole but only saw a mass of dark hair. Whoever it was had her back facing the door. She most likely thought she was knocking on the right door and was just waiting to be let in. I considered ignoring the knock and heading back to bed because I was expecting no visitors. I had not even informed my Yankee friends I was coming to town, and none of the people I know lived in Seattle. I went ahead and cracked the door open and the neck bearing the mass of dark hair turned around with a smile, waiting for me to let her in. I blinked and screamed my heart out.

“Noooooo!!!!” This could not be! I slammed the door shut and backed away from it. The knocks started again. This time, accompanied with mentions of my name.

“Bill, Bill, Bill?”

I remained silent, seated on my bed and staring at the door in disbelief.

 “Bill, are you not going to let me in?”

“Go away. I do not communicate with the dead.”

 I had heard so many stories of the dead appearing to people who were not yet aware of their passing. I had never for a second stopped to think if these stories were true or not. No one told me she was dead. That was just an assumption I was making. But going by all logic, that had to be the only explanation for how she could turn up in front of my hotel room when she was supposed to be in Ghana. How did she even know the hotel I was to be lodging in and my room number? She must be a ghost.

She snorted with laughter.

“Okay, Bill, I was looking forward to your surprise at seeing me turn up at your door, but I was not expecting this!”

I was not going to communicate with a dead person. No way. I remained silent.

“It’s been one long flight. I’m heading over to my room to rest. I’m in room 27, up on the next floor. See you later.”

I did not hear her retreating footsteps so I knew she was still waiting to see if I would change my mind. I remained silent and seated on the bed, still staring at the door when I sensed she’d turned to leave. That was when I called for her to wait while I tentatively headed to the door. My heart was racing with every step I took, and I didn’t know I’d been shaking until I touched the door knob. When I opened it, she looked straight into my eyes and asked with flames darting from her eyes,

“Do I look like a ghost?”

I was very confused. She did not look like a ghost. I did not even know what ghosts are supposed to look like.

“No”, I said with a vigorous shake of my head.

“So what was all that about?” The anger in her eyes gave way to concern. I was still rooted in position. She reached out for the door, opening it wider and making enough room for her to let herself in.

I closed the door, turned and watched her drop her handbag on the desk, kick off her shoes and make herself comfortable on my bed. All this while, she held my gaze, waiting for an answer.

“I’m confused.”

“Why?”

“I am confused because you’re not supposed to be here. I am confused because I only got in a few hours ago, had a late lunch and fell asleep for about thirty minutes and here you are in front of me when I know very well you were in Ghana when I was leaving. And you don’t expect me to be confused?” I was incredulous!

She only laughed, patted a spot by her side on the bed and beckoned for me to come take a seat. I shook my head and opted for the desk chair which only made her laugh harder.

“So now, I’m a ghost and you’re afraid to sit by me. I’m not a ghost.”

She got up and did a twirl as if that was to disprove her being a ghost. Whatever fears I'd had of her being a ghost had subsided at this point. I knew there had to be a logical explanation for this.

Bill's Story - 5

Ok, so I know I started this story way back in 2012 but I'm just not ready to let it die and become a story I started but never ended. So, as part of my repentance as a lazy writer, I made time to continue with it. Unlike me, I'm very sure it'll be hard for anyone to still remember what the whole story was about in the first place so I'm going to put up links to the first four parts before I continue. And oh, I did realise some mistakes while re-reading the older parts...When I initially started the story, Bill wasn't called Bill. He was called Jay. Please don't ask the reasoning behind the choice and change of names because I truly have no reason. Anyways, I came across a number of Jays in the first two parts I think. I'll be changing them though but if you read before the change happens, don't be too confused. Just take it as his second name ;)

Bill's Story - Part 1

Bill's Story - Part 2

Bill's Story - Part 4

Bill's Story - Part 4

It was already Friday. Saturday was virtually here! Marianne had sorted out all our travel issues. Both Ralph and I did not need visas. I, because of my dual citizenship and Ralph, because he had just returned from studying in the States and still had a valid visa. I however had to leave a day earlier than Ralph because he had some personal issues to attend to before travelling. I passed by his work station on my way out at the close of the day.

“Ralph, see you in Seattle on Monday. Marianne just told me you’re on a different travel itinerary because you have some things to sort out before travelling.”

“Yes o my guy. Charlie, my kid sis dey come do engagement this Saturday wey I for wait den take my “akunta sika” before I leave. The way I take good care of am for e husband, I for wait then take my money myself.”

I found what he was saying funny but he had this all too serious look on his face which stopped me from bursting into laughter. I had to agree with him.

“Charlie, what you talk be true. E be very important say you take the money yourself. Anyways, we go crush when you drop. Make sure you take the hotel details and ticket from Marianne before setting off.”

I patted him on the back and turned to head out the door when I remembered I had not informed Amy of my trip. I wasn’t obliged to, but I felt common courtesy required that of me. True friends had to keep each other in the know of things like this right? I dragged myself back to her work station and heaved a sigh of relief when I was met with an empty desk. I picked a bright pink sticky note and pen from the table and left a message on her monitor. That will surely get her attention.

Hi Amy, I stopped by to let you know I’ll be out of the office for two weeks with Ralph. Bill.

That was all I wrote. I didn’t see the need to give her any more information than that. I called out to Ralph on my way past his work station the second time,

“Don’t forget to have a look through the presentations I sent to you. I’ll really appreciate your comments and input on how to make it more interesting.”

“Make you no worry my guy. I go search time do that give you.”

I just hope you don’t make any insertions and comments in pidgin.

Now, I wasn’t sure if what was supposed to be said in my mind came out loud. I panicked at the thought that he’d heard me, and laughed at my paranoia.

“E go dey your mail inside by Sunday gbeke”

Now, I knew he hadn’t heard me. He wouldn’t have continued in pidgin if he had heard me. Would he? Ah well. There are better things to wrap my head around than this. I picked up my ticket and hotel details up from Marianne on my way to Mr. Daniels office to say goodbye. He was on the phone when I went in. I’d braced myself for a minimum of 30 minutes wait, and was surprised when he ended the call and decided to give me a brief lecture on how to go about representing him well. I was grateful for the coaching though.

Berth was all dressed up looking like she was waiting for someone to pick her up for an outing when I got home. I could not hide my surprise. She was in this floral print strapless dress that flowed from her waist to her ankle. She had on no jewelry save for a pair of tiny gold studs in her ears. The only hint of make-up I caught on her face was clear lip gloss but she looked stunning! The sight of her made me feel weak in my knees. I don’t know why I still feel that way after all these years. It has been three good years since I first set sight on her and felt the very same weakness I was feeling in my knees on that day. Up until that point, I wasn’t a believer in love at first sight. It took Berth to convert me.

“What’s up? Where are you going?”

“Where are we going?” She corrected me with emphasis on the “We”.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” The twinkle in her eye as she said this was unmistakable. “Hurry up and change into something more casual.”

I was tired and had really been looking forward to rest, but whatever plans she had for the evening had got her on a high. I wasn’t ready to burst her bubble, plus I knew I was going to miss her for the next two weeks. I was out in less than 5 minutes after I changed into the first pair of jeans and polo shirt my hands touched in the dark of my wardrobe.

She opted to drive us in my car. When I was seated she turned to me, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across her face.

“You have two options. I either blindfold you till we get to where we are going, or you promise to keep your eyes closed from now until we get there.”

I opted for the latter. All I had to do was rest my head against the headrest and take a power nap. I explained that much to her – that I would use the opportunity to take a nap that will make me a very fun companion for the night. She didn’t seem bothered by that. She had her jazz to listen to.

I jolted out of my sleep screaming “Jesus Jesus” when the car screeched to a halt. My screams for divine intervention were met with laughter from Berth. It took a few seconds for me to realise that was how she’d planned to wake me up from my nap and that all was safe. I looked around but could not make out where we were. It looked as if we had just driven into the centre of a movie set up on a Caribbean island!

“Where are we?”

She just looked at me with a knowing smile and said, "It takes a few minutes to take it all in.”

That did not answer my question. But I nodded in earnest agreement.

“This is out of this world.”

I could hear the sound of music from a distance and could smell khebabs on fire though I hadn’t seen any other human since we’d arrived. We stepped out of the car. Berth took off her slippers, holding them in her left hand while wrapping her free arm around my waist. We walked towards the ocean and sat in the sand to watch the sunset. She picked her phone from her dress pocket and turned it off. I also picked mine to do same. I noticed I’d received a message from an unknown number but decided to not ruin the lovely moment with the love of my life. I turned it off and placed it back in my pocket. She rested her head against my shoulder and I reached for her hands.  We were both content to just sit in the silence and watch the sun in all its splendor take a bow down the horizon. Except for the occasional sound of music that was carried towards us by the winds, the only other sound I could hear was the roar of the Atlantic and of the waves crashing against the rocky sections of the beach. I turned to kiss her just as the space which was filled with the bright orange sun was now nothing but clouds that still had orange hues race across the sky. I swear I would have gone on kissing her till daybreak had she not reluctantly broken it off and asked that we go have dinner. I turned to look around but could not sight any restaurant. She held my hand and walked me towards what appeared to be a forest of coconut trees to the right of where we had parked, giggling in excitement at my apparent daze in taking in how the evening had turned out.

Nestled in the middle of the forest of coconut trees was this cozy restaurant with an ambience which cannot be explained. It can only be felt. We made our meal selections – I went for banku and spicy grilled tilapia with green pepper sauce. That was what the menu said. It was just “kpakposhito” which must have been ground in heaven because I’ve never had hot pepper that tasted so heavenly with banku and tilapia. She opted for Rice and beef sauce which she swore was nicer than my option even though she left half of it and joined me to eat the banku.

We took a walk along the moonlit beach before going back to the spot where we had been sitting before dinner and talked the night away. I did not want the night to end, but I knew full well I had to get ready for my trip the next day. Berth read my mind.

“We should be heading back. You need to rest before your trip.”

The ride back home was tranquil and silent. It was a comfortable silence. It wasn’t until I entered the bedroom that I was reminded of the fact that Berth was really moving out the next day. Her packed bags were lined at the foot of the bed. They seemed to be taunting me. Telling me to hurry up and marry their owner If I didn’t want them out. I shook my head and said to them,

“Oh shut up! Would you?”

“Who are you talking to?” Berth was perplexed as she walked in and caught me speaking to myself.

“I was just silencing the voices in my head telling me that I’m going to lose you if I allow you to move out tomorrow.”

When did I get this good at fabricating on the spot lies that could go past any lie detector? This particular one was not actually too far fetched from the truth though. Was that not the implication of the conversation the bags and I were having?

“Sweetheart, thank you so much for tonight. Your spontaneity in coming up with such plans is the definition of romance.”

“Awww, I’m flattered. The smile of gratitude on her face warmed my heart. Thanks for not turning me down. I knew you were very tired coming back from work. But I also knew we had to do this. I just wanted to prove to you that my moving out is not because I do not love you. A woman’s got to do –“”

I did not let her end her statement. I walked towards her and cupped her face in my palms.

“I’m going to do what I have to do as a man. Do not worry yourself thinking about when. It’s going to be sooner than you think.”

I bent my head and planted a kiss on her forehead. She released herself from my embrace, mumbling an excuse of needing the washroom. I knew she was going to cry, but I did not stop her.  

I'm back!

Ok, so my last post was on the 23rd of November last year! What excuse can be given and accepted for this? Don't say none because excuses always abound. I would love to say I've not been lazy. That I've been so busy you wouldn't believe it if I told you. That my life has been a roller-coaster between my last story (not post) and now. All those are true. But who says you can't write while on a roller-coaster? Before anyone asks me if I've ever been on a roller-coaster, yes I have! And writing is not always about putting pen to paper or typing out on a computer. You can write in your head and pour it all out when the calm which lazy writers like myself are always looking for comes around. I think  No, I know I've just been plain lazy. And I would not give anyone the pleasure of telling me that to my face and having it hurt :p So i'll admit it so I can laugh at those who are unkind enough to agree with me :D
Of course there have been times when I'll start a post but lose interest by the end of the first sentence and never get around to posting it.Those are still there as drafts which I don't ever see myself finishing. I'd like to believe I have repented of my sins. I'm going to be serious from henceforth....but I'll perfectly understand your hesitance to trust me on this one. I'll just have to prove what I'm saying. Time will tell :)
I just think I've rediscovered my writing mojo. I just hope it sticks around for a longer while this time.

What do Indiscipline and Corruption have in common?

I just found this post which I'd been writing on 20th June 2014 in my drafts folder! I never finished it but I think it still makes for an interesting read.

Sometime in October last year, I was driving to work when I noticed a sticker behind the car ahead of me. It was at the Fiesta Royale traffic light on the N1. The light had turned red so I reached for my phone to capture what I thought was an interesting aphorism, but just before I could capture the shot, the driver changed lanes ;( . I cannot quote word for word what it said, but it was something along the lines of "I love my country. It's those in charge I have a problem with".
So he loves his country but has a problem with those in charge. That's not a big deal. But it got me thinking and I must say it made me more aware of how almost everyone in Ghana is always whining about our leaders. I believe in constructive criticism. The kind which puts aside political party affiliation and objectively states ones views on how things are not being done right and how they could be rightly done.

What I've come to notice in recent days in Ghana is this. Almost EVERYBODY has nothing good to say about those we have elected to govern us. You log in to any social media for a maximum of 5 minutes and you're sure to be greeted with a tweet or status update berating the government. Now, I'm not saying everyone must sing the praise of government even when things are not being done right. I just think we seem to forget that the people in authority over us are a reflection of the people they govern. Corrupt deals are exposed or the price of fuel goes up and you get everyone commenting and using distasteful language on those in authority. The most recent one I sighted was on Facebook earlier this week when one of my social media friends said "We are being governed by a bunch of fools". My heart bled when I read this. I was like, "really?" It took Grace to stop me from commenting on that status.
 And I wondered, where did these bunch of fools governing us appear from? Did those in authority who dabble in corrupt deals become corrupt upon assuming those positions?
I don't think so. We are a bunch of undisciplined people. I use the pronoun "we" not because I believe every single Ghanaian is undisciplined, but because majority of Ghanaians are undisciplined. If you need evidence of the indiscipline I'm talking about, take a walk or drive, depending on your location to the Tetteh Quarshie interchange. The section opposite the Villagio apartments. What do you find when you get there? What used to be greenery is now some sorry looking bits of grass competing with dry patches of land. Don't for a moment think the dry patches of land you're seeing has anything to do with the dry season. Rather, it has everything to do with Indiscipline both on the part of drivers and pedestrians. Crossing the N1 onto the motorway during the evening rush hour is any driver's worst nightmare. Instead of all of us staying in line and slowly inching towards our destinations, we have these group of drivers who decide to race along the green grass and the end result is...
ok i was just interrupted at work for some 45 minutes and the writing inspiration is gone. I'll save this and get back to it the next time it comes.