Kwame Nkrumah was born Francis Nwia-Kofi on 21st September, 1909 to a gold smith father and retail trade mother in Nkroful now in the Western Region of Ghana. He was baptised a Catholic and like most of the children of his time, the missionary schoold offered one of the surest ways of getting primary education. He attended the Roman Catholic elementary school at Half Assini. He later went to Achimota College in the 1930s from where he became a teacher teaching mostly in the Catholic schools at Elmina and Axim. Continue reading
Happy New Year everyone! God has been so good to us and we have crossed into another year. One of the things I love doing since I started blogging is picking out one word to focus on throughout the year. Last year’s word was “Excellence” and I have decided that my word for the year of 2015 is “smarter.”
Petroleum products have become a major part of our everyday lives as humans. In as much as it is, it has become a necessity in our lives, coupled with its sky rocketing prices which tends to burden major economies all around the world hence government subsidies.
Because of my Ga jokes and jests on Social Media (most of those jokes are directed at Ga Girls though) my friends have resulted to calling me a tribalist based on my beliefs and my continued jesting about the Ga People Of Ghana. At first, I used to get offended when people inboxed me on Facebook, referring to me as tribalist, but frankly now I can not be bothered, because I know I am not a tribalist in the sense that I do not bring other tribes down. I jest about my own tribe for fun and I have no regrets whatsoever about that. I would not intentionally ridicule my own tribe on Social Media. For what?
The problem with young Ghanaian teenagers today is that they are too soft. Those days, (I mean in the 1990s and early 2000s) young people like myself were tough. We were strong and hard as nails. My generation had the wild, strict parents, big mango climbable trees and the very wicked Primary and JHS teachers.
I dedicate this post to my dear Facebook friends, twitter followers and blog readers who have found Love. There are so many different kinds of love. Love for your family, love for your pets, love for your friends and even love for the Kooko seller that makes your kooko every morning.
We experience it, but we may not always appreciate all the love in our daily lives, especially when we find ourselves alone, seeking that one love, the ROMANTIC Love.
Today is 1st July, and its Republic Day of Ghana. Social media has been buzzing with the #OccupyFlagstaffHouse hash tag seeking the head of the President Of Ghana. Ghanaians on social media (i.e. Facebook and Twitter) are lamenting about the economic conditions in the country presently and the constant increment of fuel prices and utility tariffs. Well, the Level 400s in many of the Universities have graduated from School, the Level 100s, 200s like myself and 300s are doing or starting their summer internships and WASSCE and BECE graduands are also sitting at home, awaiting their results.
A while ago, I saw someone write something to the effect that, you can call him a stereotype, a coward or whatever but if his friend gets HIV, he won’t hang out with him, anymore. In his words; “he should die alone”. Then another one also asked why we keep spending money to provide drugs to HIV/AIDS patients since its an incurable disease. In his words too; “we are tired of spending the taxpayers’ money on them”.
When you read thoughts like this on the worldwide web, you need a lot of discipline to keep your cool. But now, thinking about those two thoughts expressed openly about HIV/AIDS on social media, I am not going to keep my cool anymore, I am going crazy thinking about what they said.
I remember those days when we did not have access to the internet and it was the preserve of the rich, I decided to take a journey to the neighborhood cybercafe to do some browsing. Welcome to 2007.
It was a hot, sunny Saturday if my memory serves me right– ECG had taken the lights in some parts of Accra as usual. The birds were singing loudly than ever, the open gutters smelt of hot stagnant water and piss, and you could hear the bus conductor’s voice from afar shouting “Osu! Osu! Osu!”
Today is Tuesday, 15th April and I have missed you so much. I know you are wondering why we have not had a chat in a while. Yes, I know, it has been exactly 50 days since I last made an entry into you. Hmmmm, it’s not my doing, not at all.