Ama Ata Aidoo's The Days , a picture book for children is a delight to read. Illustrated by Albert Buete Puplumpu, the book offers relatable descriptions of days of the week and their unique characters in a fun way. The theme of differences and similarities resonates clearly. The author employs the use of rhythm, rhyme, repetition and imagery to deploy the story. In comparison to how days behave, it plays on the characteristics of animals and things to enforce its message while encouraging children in an unsuspecting way to apply their mathematical skills. The simplicity of style and subject makes it an easy read for young children. At the same time, it holds a certain appeal for adults because of the subliminal meaning portrayed for those who understand the battles fought in daily existence. This book explores the possibilities in each day, painting a picture of life and its unpredictability in general. It assures the young that differences are normal and in fact to be expected. For adult readers it reinforces our knowledge and understanding of daily life challenges, leaving a sense of balance. The performance potential it holds is most exciting. Each day's character stares the imagination and evokes an actor in the reader. The colourful illustrations depict familiar images in ethereal bliss, typically that of the old village wall. The front cover captures the theme beautifully. It shows the different characters of days by seamlessly fusing together colours symbolizing the differences in days. The illustrations are very effective in enhancing the story. Although "Each day has hours of ten, ten and four..." "All the days are not equal" indeed. Children are sure to be entertained and learn about diversity. I'm enamored! The Days is far more than a good read. Children, gather round!

Navrongo, the capital town of the Kassena-Nankani district lies south of Paga, the main border crossing between Ghana and Burkina Faso. It sits at the tropical Savannah belt, Upper East of Ghana. I first made my way there sometime in September 2002 through a friend who couldn’t believe I had lived all 27 years of my life in southern Ghana, never having traveled up north. He insisted I needed the exposure and so he dragged me with him. He said I had not lived If I had not seen the sun rise on the Tono dam. So, one fine morning at 5:00 am, I jumped into his pick-up truck, and we headed up north where he had made a home away from fanteland. It was the longest road trip I had ever embarked on at the time, 15 hours on the road to be precise. Takeaway the breaks we took at Kumasi, Kintapo and Tamale. I barely noticed the hours pass as we chatted all the way with the company of Fela Kuti and Bob Marley playing in the background on repeat. To this day, the ride to Navrongo remains one of the fondest memories I have of traveling Ghana for work or leisure. This part of the country is home to two ethnic groups, the Kassims and the Nakanas. Historically, it is said that these two ethnic groups have had relative independence because the Ashantis didn't invade them. However certain treaties established by the British in 1898 an Anglo-French convention came up with an agreement to divide the lands. The Kassims and Nankanas were subsequently separated from their relatives who today live across the border, Burkina Faso. Older indigens of Navrongo know it as Navoro, which means (to put your foot down on soft ground). Today, the town is indeed soft ground to live and explore what new opportunities it has to offer, including access to tertiary education locally. The siting of Tedam University of Technology and Applied Sciences campus to the township has brought much warmth to the once laid back and very quiet town. Yet, it still remains relatively calm in comparison to Bolgatanga which is 30 kilometers away by road, about 40 minutes’ drive. It is an important market town in the area. The people are mainly subsistence farmers and rearers of cattle and goat. Navrongo is known for its famous mud-built cathedral and grotto, Our Lady of Seven Sorrows. Although it doesn't haven many formally designated places of tourist attraction, it is by its character a great attraction. The warmth of the people, the native architecture, fabrics, the market, the guinea fowl joints, the easy connection between humans and cattle in full glare, make up a total unique culture for experiencing. Marked places of interests in addition to the mud-built cathedral are the Tono dam, which is one of the largest agricultural dams in West Africa, also the first ever solar plantation and the health research centre. It is awesome to watch the sun rise ever so gracefully on the Tono dam.The rising of the sun is said to symbolise the journey of the sun in the sky. At about 5:00 am one morning my host and I set off on a drive to see the famous sunrise on Tono dam. The joy of watching the sunrise on the dam is next to none, with nature at its best early morning. The sun’s golden rays added a burnt orange colour to the smoky clouds. A small ball of light emerged from the sky at first. It then slowly starts to get bigger and illuminate. As if on cue birds began to chirp in glorification of the glow of the orange goddess. Its beauty is beyond description, I cannot do it justice. Suddenly, out of the blue it bursts out into a gleaming ball expanding at a moment's look. The first rays are gentle and soft on the eyes. It is a rare joy, eternally etched in memory. I have seen many a sunrise over the years but this one was magnificent, just as my host promised. It was worth every bit of the journey. One thing I found most fascinating is the hand production of ethnic fabrics by the women of Navorongo. They grow and eat their own food. They make their own beer(pito), their own beauty products from largely local materials. They build their homes with their bare hands also with local materials. They made ordinary what appeared phenomenal to me. There are some fairly decent guest houses and lodges to stay in, especially for low budget travelers. Moving around is not difficult, there are taxies and motor cars available for hire as well as collective rides. For a fun night, there are lots of drinking spots and bars to hang out and dig into some well spiced charcoal grilled guinea fowl or beef kebabs. You may sample grilled guinea fowl in as many grilling spots as you like. That is a sport in itself. I've had several opportunities to return to Navrongo after my first visit. With each visit the land and it’s people grow on me. Memories of Navrongo call. Nearly two decades after my first trip there, my heart still misses a beat at the mention of her name. Could it also be that the face of that handsome Kassim man still smiles on me?

I know of a magician called Professor De-Ago. I first heard of him at about age eleven. There was talk at school of a magician who came to perform at Workshop in Burma Camp and did wonders. It was purported he killed a woman and brought her back to life. Who does that? I needed to confirm the viability of this information. I went to my go to information centre, my mother. This was when she enlightened me about magic arts and the fact that she knew Professor De-Ago in person. He comes from our hometown, Gomoa Pinanko. Wow! I was excited. My mother told me how my late Auntie Yaa Baawah's father shot Professor De-Ago during one of his performances and the magician disappeared and appeared unscathed. I vividly recall this conversation. I next heard of Professor De-Ago again in 1988/89 when my family lived in London. He had come to perform, and my father said we may possibly host him at home. It did not happen, much to my disappointment. In conversation with my father recently, he mentioned casually they had gone to bury De-Ago. I asked which De-Ago , of course it was the Professor De-Ago the magician. Do magicians die? Sad to hear of his passing, I decided to find out more about it, so I went online to learn of details of his death. There was nothing. Not just of his death but of him and his work. How come there's next to no documentation on such a man? I needed to know more. So, I got my father to link me to some of his family members and others from Pinanko. I’m in the process of finding out more of this famous magician who disappeared into thin air never to be heard of again until his demise. In a conversation with his grandson, Mr Collins Kessehen Obeng had this to say, "He won best West African award in London, according to my grandpa, at the performance in London every magician has to perform on stage and the time given to my grandpa was a scheduled time in London, but he got there hours after his scheduled time, this meant he couldn’t go on stage at the allotted time. The organisers were annoyed so they decided to disqualify him. You know those people work with time; an argument started over his disqualification. My grandpa said to them, please check your time, when they checked, it was the exact time allotted him. He had reversed the time! There was massive applause." Mr Obeng shares a moral lesson his grandfather taught him. "Nana taught me not to challenge what I don't understand. He said in one town he went to perform; a fetish priest challenged his magical powers. Nana chopped off his head. He later put it back on, but it was crooked. Nana said, he didn’t achieve perfect results because the oracles were angry. One of the fondest memories I have of him when I was a little boy is whenever we were with him in Accra, anytime we got to Teshie, 1 st Junction he would conjure toffees and share them to us. That was awesome!" he said. Magic art as a stagecraft is no longer a thing in Ghana’s entertainment space, not for many years. In my late 40's I've never had an experience of it except for watching Paul Daniels and David Copperfield on Tv decades ago in the United Kingdom. From the accounts my mother gave of Professor De-Ago , it would have been interesting to have gone to one of his magic shows. Would you like to see the revival of magic art shows in Ghana? Click on the link below for more details https://www.graphic.com.gh/features/features/popular-ghanaian-magician-professor-diego-passes-on.html Updated 2nd Septermber 2022

Social Media has become the biggest platform where millions of young people are exploring and expressing their creativity in many ways, entertainment is one. It is common today to see young people expressing themselves using video, graphics, photos and what have you. One can find a great deal of comedy videos on social media. There are tons of them. It is however unusual to find comedy in literary form on social media. There isn't many I can point to. So, it was most refreshing when I chanced on a Facebook friend who makes it a habit of posting humorous narratives, (jokes) much so that it has become his unique brand. He first caught my attention in 2020 on Facebook. His posts are predominantly in Asante Twi with streaks of English. He achieves a fine mix of Twi "boxed" with English as conventionally done by most Akan speakers. Comments under his posts indicate he has most readers in stitches and consistently so. At first, I struggled to read his posts because I’m not literate in Akan but my fascination at his insistence to communicate in Twi pushed me to persevere. Like a beginner reader in her formative years, I jerkily read out loud and figured out the context as I went along. Goodness he was funny. Really funny! Even when at times the context of his humour was not so clear to me, he still got me giggling. I began to follow him. Actually, his jokes pulled me. He is the only friend I have on Facebook who consistently posts in Asante Twi. If that’s not phenomenal enough he also writes comedy using very graphic street narratives. He's been consistent for two years since I discovered him. I have been late in coming though as he has been posting jokes on Facebook since 2014. His ability to address trending issues in his work with great whack and punches is amazing. I just had to reach out to him. Jacob Osei Owusu Ansah known as Owusu Ojay on Facebook was born in Asafo, a suburb of Kumasi. His formative years were in Asafo and also at Kotei Deduako. He grew up a "normal" child with the usual perception that all is well. "Akwadaa biaara swa a ɔyɛ dehyeɛ." According to Ojay himself, he was a shy, quiet and reserved child who spent most of his time indoors listening to music, watching movies and reading from his father’s collection of books. One wouldn't think so judging by the antics he displays in his works today. Ojay who has been writing comedy for a as long as he can remember, says talent matures as one experiences life says of interest in comedy "Akyɛ ooo". His early materials on Facebook Wall were mostly one-liners. He says he loves jokes and jokes love him. Today, he has a lot of life experiences with so much inspiration that humour simply ebbs out of his veins effortlessly. The evidence is on his Facebook Wall. Although he hasn't formally studied comedy, he knows it well and he lives to write jokes. Ojay doesn't know how jokes became part of him. He's been gifted. "I didn’t choose comedy, comedy chose me. I didn't try to be funny, I am funny and I have learnt that I can make something out of it. I can't explain. It's divine." His works to me are such a success that I asked if he has failed at something else. "This question deɛɛ, me aa I haven't failed menso aa I haven't achieved anything biaaa saaa. Me da mu saaaa but nyame ne hene." As to whether Ojay has not achieved anything with his works is up for debate. In my view, to up and write comedy using his mother tongue to a supposedly “middle class" audience on social media where English is the main language of communication is a feat worth noting. What separates his style of humour from others? His jokes come with a mix of acid and tomfoolery bothering on slapstick were they to be enacted. In his view, his audience relate easily to his jokes in Twi. He points this out as a comfort as it’s also easier for him to express himself in Twi. He explains, tasking people to look up words of punch lines when a joke is told in English is unimaginable. Typical of Ojay, he quips "Wo deɛ imagine sɛ a word like poignant is part of the punchline of my joke, before sɛ obi bɛ sere no agye sɛ w'afa dictionary." He also believes it is important to promote the use of our local languages whenever there's an opportunity because " the moment you lose your language you lose your culture and your history." To him we cannot lose ourselves and should strive not to. His view is that "The world is a canvas" and asks for people to use it as such and "be creative." Ojay enjoys making people laugh. To keep going he tells himself " Don't stop writing. Just keep on writing and the ideas will come naturally." On what character flaw he possesses, he says "One negative thing I have gotten to know about myself is, I don't like making calls and I don't like picking calls. Ɛtɔ da bi aa me nya call aa na me yɛm ahye me. I prefer texting to calling. So my friends always say I don't like calling them. I'm trying to take care of it." Two things keep him up. "Where I want to be and what I want to be, these two things keep me awake at night. Daeɛ bɔne nso ka ho." Bad dreams also keep him up, he jokes. If he were to relate himself to an animal, what would it be? "A bird because it's free. I feel like a bird when I'm doing what I'm good at.” Highlife is staple music for him, Daddy Lumba's "(Harry) Mensei da" is his favourite highlife song. He sees himself in the third verse. "It talks about life. To always keep a clean heart and keep doing what you are good at. The third verse is my favourite part. He talks about how he prayed to God about his talent when he was a kid when the world neglected him. And now look at him, he is now a household name." When he is alone, Ojay thinks about how to improve his life, "I think about how to make the next moment better than the previous one." He would love to travel to the past if he were to enter into a time machine to boost his confidence. "I would go back to the past just to feel some moments twice and to tell the little me to be confident." With regards to how far he sees a career in comedy he states, "I want to be one of the greatest to ever to do it. Like Jordan and basketball". He however asserts that much as he seeks to build a successful career in comedy, working with children takes precedence. "I hope the role I would be playing as a comedian would allow me to get enough time for the kids. I love teaching so I hope not to have to make a choice between my two loves." As a man in his youth, he wishes he had inherited from the generation ahead of him the legacy of a Ghana with a better and organized space where all creatives can thrive. His biggest disappointment is the system here.“It has failed us." Regardless, Ojay looks forward to helping to leave a better Ghana for those who come after him, using his art. Ojay may not consider himself to have achieved anything by his comedy works, yet but I see differently. In a space where most “educated" people strive to exhibit how well they speak and write English and mock those whose use of the English language is not quite up to par; it is heart-warming to see Ojay doing the reverse. He is showing Ghanaians there’s pride to be had in the use of our local languages. He is displaying that creativity is indeed rooted and he asserts this very well. Not only is it heart-warming but also trailblazing for a young man to dare to break a bias in an environment where if you don't speak English, you may very well be dismissed before you even open your mouth. Thankfully, although gradual, the use of our local languages through traditional media has softened the ground for people like Ojay to build a foundation such as he has. He's got not just me, but many others spellbound and on the floor, reading his Twi jokes. He has considered stand-up comedy and sees a future there but not for the moment. He is a teacher by day. His comedy, he says merges with his teaching job seamlessly. "Comedy is part of teaching. You can use comedy to educate people." He applies humour as an effective tool for teaching in the classroom, "Sometimes I use jokes to explain some concepts to my pupils. As a teacher "deɛ” you have to be creative." Ojay is a product of Wesley College and holds a diploma in basic education. For a man who is single and not even dating here's what he shares in his most recent work on Facebook. "Chale this Will Smith and Chris Rock issue make I kae some incident bi paaa. Me ne me girl bi wɔ stadium aa na yɛɛ hwɛ kotoko match bi and my girl got up from her seat to do something. Me girl no sɔree yɛ aa, one guy bi at the top there no shouted. He was like, ''maame fa wo to fiaaa no tenase na menhwɛ ball no bi.'' The boys around the guy no were laughing wey my girl too ein face make sad. I didn’t want to retaliate but I felt some strong urge, so I moved to the guy. And I made an attempt to slap him but sɛɛ akoa no yɛ TaeKwondo master wɔ Tafo, wo nua sɔɔ me nsa na me gye me ho aa ɛngye. Ɔhwee m'aniso maa me specs kɔ tɔɔ park no so, referee no na ɛde brɛɛ me wɔ fie. Two days na me left eye no ɛnhu adeɛ sɛ m'anhyia Dr. Sarfo aa anka m'ani firaa yɛ." You may find more of his jokes on Facebook - Owusu Ojay.

Evans Odei, Top 10 Global Teacher Prize Finalist-2021 Advocate of STEM All too soon, the International Mathematics Day celebration has come to an end for the year 2022. On International Day of Mathematics stakeholders take the opportunity to highlight the relevance of Mathematics and underscore the essential role that Mathematics as a subject plays in breakthroughs in the field of science and technology. On this occasion we explain how Mathematics improves the quality of life for us all, from the trotro mate, the waakye seller, the accountant to the engineers who plan and build our roads and bridges. This year’s celebration focused on the theme, “Mathematics Unites”. Indeed, Mathematics is a common language we all have and speak, a common subject that lays the foundation of inventions and creativity. It allows us to understand, analyse, interpret and solve problems both in school and in real-life situations. As teachers of mathematics, let’s continue to make the subject a pleasure for us to teach and fun for our students to learn. Let's try and relate Mathematics to real-life situations, make connections and help students to figure out the big picture. Let's guide them to find out why they are doing this Maths and how it fits with other subjects (Science, Geography, English, Economics, etc). Let us intentionally support girls to love Mathematics, as by so doing we enrol more girls into STEM-related courses and careers. Math education empowers women and girls and contributes to the achievement of the Sustainable Development. Maths is fun. Maths is real. Maths is everything we do in life. Let us appreciate the usefulness, power, and beauty of mathematics. I take the opportunity to remind us of some of the goals of International Day of Mathematics: "Contribute to capacity building in mathematical and scientific education, with special focus on girls and children from developing countries (SDG4) Highlight the role of Mathematics in the organization of modern society, including economic, financial, health and transport systems, telecommunications in the quest for human well-being, etc. (SDG3) Raise awareness of the role of Mathematics in fighting disasters, epidemics, emerging diseases, invasive species (SDG11) Equip the general public and young people with tools for understanding the planetary challenges and the capacity to respond as knowledgeable citizens. Increase international networking and collaborations in public awareness of mathematics." Teaching Mathematics gives me great pleasure. I endeavour to create an environment that enhances the joy of teaching and learning Maths. I relate the subject so well with my students that they not only enjoy but also value what I teach. I hope International Day of Mathematics 2022 has resuscitated and invigorated the Mathematician in you.

The theme of International Women's Day (IWD) 2022 #BreakTheBias is particularly significant as well as highly relevant for me because I believe our nation needs the participation of all individuals who can contribute to the workforce especially a country such as ours. Indeed, there are many discriminations and biases against women that needs to be broken and shattered and I stand against the countless bias’s women face. However, I am highlighting biases against women in menopause as a result of my personal experience and shared stories by my fellow menopausal women. My personal experience with menopause has revealed to me that although most women have heard of and know what menopause is, there’s still need to raise further awareness on the subject to help break the biases so women in menopause within the work space can continue to actively and comfortably contribute our quota to national development. In this regard, women need support to be able to achieve their both personal and career goals. Without the support of all stakeholders, including families, friends, colleagues, religious and social organisations and especially women ourselves to each other, it will not be possible to end the many biases that women are hit with daily, everywhere we find ourselves. Many workplaces are not supportive of women and our special biological makeup, rarely if ever do workplaces address the issue of menopause or take it into account. Unfortunately attempts to find supporting data on issue have proven futile. A point of evidence which perhaps underscores my suspicion that menopausal women are not considered a "special group". This must change. There's the critical need for workplaces to start conversations about menopause and begin to normalise it as part of everyday working life concerns. The emotional wellbeing and many other common concerns for menopausal women in the workplace ought to be addressed in order to begin to break the bias. I wholehearted with mind, body and spirit support the breaking of biases on work conditions and wages for women. Let's break the biases on menopause, the snickering, sarcastic and caustic comments and the flippant dismissals. We must break the biases in the manner in which we are communicated to at this time and in general. We must break biases in the ways women in menopause are perceived. I join forces with all women nationwide and across the globe to echo the fight for equality in all disciplines. I call on stakeholders in the area of work, particularly companies and organizations to review and redefine their Corporate Social Responsibility (CSO) programmes and consider collaborating with Women's groups and organisations to educate women on menopause and give us the most needed support as we navigate this challenging stage of their lives. I have reinforced my commitment to self to do what is within my capacity to assist my fellow women to push through, not just make significant progress in their lives but to succeed broadly in whatever endeavour they undertake. I implore you to support women in menopause to manage and overcome the trauma in their lives. We must break the bias in our offices, homes, schools, places of worship and largely in our communities. #IWD2022 #BreakTheBias

The National Teaching Council (NTC), organisers of the prestigious Ghana Teacher Prize (GTP) awarded to professional teachers who excel in the basic and secondary education levels has officially opened the bid on the Teacher Portal Ghana (TPG) for 2022 applications and nominations. GTP was instituted by the government of Ghana in 1994 with the objective to motivate teachers for higher performance and also elevate the teaching profession among others. The highest award to teachers in Ghana highlights the importance of teachers in national development and the need to recognise and celebrate their efforts. Over the years GTP has acknowledged the impacts of outstanding teachers not solely on their students but also on communities. Criteria for selecting the most outstanding teacher considers evidence of teachers who employ innovative and effective instructional practices that are replicable and scalable. Also, teachers ensuring learners receive value-based education that prepares them to be global citizens qualifies as another. Professional competencies, including assessment of academic potentials and quality of delivery of service in a teacher’s ways of operation in his/her professional area is a requirement in the GTP selection process. National Planning Committee members comprising of educational agencies, teacher unions and other relevant stakeholders ensure the execution of all GTP activities. The bid for the Ghana Teacher Prize is opened to all professionally trained teachers who have served a minimum term of five years. The official date for awarding GTP winners for their selfless service to the nation is 5th October. Traditionally, the Most Outstanding Teacher award winner takes home a house. Interested applicants may click on the link below for more details. https://ntc.gov.gh/2022/02/19/ghana-teacher-prize-2022

In the last couple days, I've heard friends and family tell me about this or that challenge in their romantic relationships, marriage and courtship. People are going through things. I remember my own experience having to share space for almost a year with my former in- law when looking to resettle from being away. Goodness, that was stressful. A story for another day. It appears the condition which we spend less time paying particular attention to is what is most capable of undoing us, even the strongest amongst us. After all the effort we put in for success in other areas of our lives, the one thing that can potentially undo it all is being in a bad relationship and remaining in it, hoping it will get better, when there are no positive signs or indicators from either party or both that things will actually get better. I heard two woe stories recently. People are hurting bad, really bad but can't seem to lift themselves out of bad relationships because of what I suspect is fundamentally pressure from society. There may also be a lack of self-worth and self-will. The first reasonable thing to do when things are going bad in a relationship is not to leave but seek to address whatever challenges there may be. However, one must know where trying to make things better ends. For example, you cannot change a multiple cheating wife who does next to nothing for you, takes all your money, treats you with venom when you are unable to meet her demands. You cannot change a wife who goes out and comes in smelling of another man. My brother where is your self-worth? You want to commit suicide over this? There's also that husband who keeps reinfecting you with this and that. My sister if you are not careful the next infection might be HIV if you don't have it already. That partner making you question your every thought and move, making you feel inadequate is abusing you emotionally. Know that it is not healthy. I don’t advocate divorce; it is not the best option if things can be helped. I believe we are obligated to give all our commitments our very best shot. However, sometimes leaving is the only option. I am a two-time divorcee. My first husband left me for the daughter of his prophet upon revelations from the most high. I left my second husband for leaving me on a highway at 2:00 am. I recognised by his action that he had no value for my life. What other conviction did I need to leave the marriage? Tell me. I Esi Arhin, a two-time DIVORCEE is also here among the living. I am not dead. I am still here. I am happy and living one day at a time through struggling to get the family going just like most are and ensuring I am in good cheer as much as possible. On very difficult days I remember no matter what happens the day will pass. My sister, my brother, no relationship should push you to the point of suicide. Eiii. Aden? Leaving a bad relationship won’t kill you. In so many ways my second marriage was better than my first, that is if one can even compare two very different relationships. But since certain pillars are consistent in all relationships, I dare say I left what was fundamentally not a bad marriage. I had to. My conscience won't let me stay. I’m here to tell you to please place value on yourself. After you've done, that check if your partner places the same value on you. Note that absolutely no one can place more value on you than yourself. So don't expect it. Expect a match and if that match does not exist, please walk. It is not normal for a grown woman to be flogged by her husband in the presence of her children. It is not. If you ask me, there is no love here. Accept that and walk. Walk away. After two masters and a PHD surely you do not lack analytical ability. Summon courage from the deep recesses of your mind and walk. You will live. I promise you. How can you sustain success when the fire in you to live life to the fullest is slowly dying? Getting a divorce or letting that toxic relationship go may be the greatest gift you can ever give yourself. After two failed marriages I have been blessed with a very loving relationship. Ma da koraa, I am fast dozing (in vigilance of course). If I see and feel "nyaa" I am leaving this one too. He knows it. Would you keep investing good money into a bad venture after several failed ventures because you don't want to be seen as a bad businessman or woman? This is where I am at. By all reasonable means let's endeavour to make our relationships work but know when the glass is shuttered and cannot be pieced together. Know. Many of us continue to remain in harrowing relationships because we are afraid of being judged. Bad relationships affect us negatively. A bad relationship creates stress and problems that impacts on our well-being. Researchers say bad relationships significantly increase our risk of developing heart problems. They note that stress and detrimental relationships directly affect the cardiovascular system. We let ourselves die a slow death every day by remaining in toxic relationships. What a great disservice to the self and our maker. Divorce is not a crime. Neither is leaving a relationship for whatever reason. It is not the yardstick for the total sum of who you are. There's so much more to us. God, if you believe there's a God who places high value on our heads, then know that we are priceless. I believe the intent is for us to thrive and flourish, live in joy and enjoy his endless grace. All S(HE) asks. First published on Facebook January 22nd, 2022

I was deep into sleep when I heard voices at the entrance of our pen. I stirred, stretched and was about to drift off again when, “I want that one, the big one with the orange brown fur." a strange voice said. "That one comes with a different price." I knew without any doubt whose voice that was. At this point, I was no longer stirring. I had become alert, ears wide open but pretending to be asleep. Good heavens! It is that time of the year again. The village kids have been weeding their usual spot and preparing to put up their (bronya Apata) Christmas huts. Although I have not said anything to my younger siblings and cousins, I've been nervous watching them prepare.  “How much?” the stranger asked. “One hundred cedis.” replied Egya Ofori pronounced Gyafori. “I will take it” the strange voice came back. Good heavens now fully woke and highly alert, it dawned on me that the big orange brown one is me. The two men are in negotiations over my sale. My heart started to beat fast, really fast, then suddenly it sunk right into my stomach. Unwillingly I began to bleat. Tears began to form in my eyes. Oh no, not again! These humans, why can't they just leave us alone? Why? I opened my eyes then, the strange man had reached out an arm to my owner, in his hands was a wad of cash for my head. I have been sold. I knew it. As soon as the thought hit me, I stood up. Mother and the others seemed oblivious to what was going on. I braced myself and began to hatch a plan. I knew what would be coming next. Gyafori would take the money and say “Wait, I'm coming.” and leave. He would go up the top of the corn dryer and get a nylon rope of three strands, create a wide-open ring around one end and make a cross over pull for tightening. He would come into the pen and throw the ring side of the rope on to the neck of the sold goat and pull it tight. He would then drag the protesting goat out of the pen and hand over the reins of the rope to the buyer. I've seen it happen so many times, as far as I've been old enough to understand. I am not going to stand here meekly for him to do that to me. I wanted to jump the pen but it is high and because of my weight I am not agile enough on my feet to suspend for long in the air. Gravity will pull me down. So, I made a quick decision, my best bet was to remain alert. As soon as the pen gate was opened, I will escape. It was the only way. Once the rope fall around my neck and is tightened, I would have no chance of getting away. Heart pounding, I dug my heels and waited. Truly truly it happened just as I know it. As soon as I saw Gyafori returning I was ready to run. Just about two meters walk or so before he reached the pen gate and swang it open, I screeched. I did not lose a second. I sped out. I don't think Gyafori saw it coming. I run as far as the pathway to the cassava farm before I stopped to think. I had to hide or leave the village but where? I come from the small village of Binkyeem (obi nkyɛn mu), 25 minutes’ drive from Duayaw Nlwanta in the Ahafo region. My village has a human population of less than fifty inhabitants. My owner and other families live in mud huts thatched with straw (Atta Kwame kind of architecture) if you are familiar with that kind of superior architecture. Binkyeem has no access to electricity or potable water. It has no social amenities either. Despite this, it is green and beautiful. The air is fresh, and the community is tight knit. Everyone knows everybody and their roots. My family and I belong to the Oforis, the richest family in the community. Gyafori owns my family of 11 goats. Although my mother does not call my siblings and I by names, however, the young Oforis call us by names. They call me Koo. Till date I do not know why. According to my mother we are 10th generation in line to my "goancesters". We are the largest family of the goat population in Binkyeem. At the count on my huff tips, we the goats of Binkyeem number about 19. We would have been about twenty-six goats in total but two fell ill and died, while five were sold Last Christmas. Gyafori feeds us well during the year then towards Bronya, depending on the market, he sells some of us off. That is how come I've been up here on the roof top of this van under scorching sun for the last seven hours or so from Binkyeem with no water or food. I've been up the roof of this car since morning. I feel weak and exhausted. The stranger has not looked my way since he tied me up here in the morning. I have been in and out of sleep throughout the journey, mainly out of parched throat and hunger but also to avoid feeling more miserable than I already am. My mind keeps going back to the trauma of being caught after I had successfully escaped. I'm up here because after I got away, I couldn't decide quickly enough on my next move. So of course, the entire village came out on a search for me after word got round I had broken bounds. Yes, they caught me, but I sure gave them a good chase. I did my best. I hid under a thicket for a good hour before that wretched little boy saw me. You see, I did not want to leave a bad reputation for the family to contend with. That I run away is cowardly but worse my family may have been locked in the pen for who knows how long and not be allowed out to move freely. I did not want to be the reason for their suffering. When Kwame Nti found me hidden in the thicket and blew the alarm, I instinctively bolted without thinking. I run around, up and down the village for more than an hour as the villagers chased after me. At least if I was being sent away, the least I could do was to give the boys something to talk about. One of them took a heavy fall during the chase and from what I gathered got more than a scraped knee. " Haa haa haaa" that ought to teach him. Frankly a goat my size can't run around too long. I short of breath easily; besides I couldn't run forever. I run out of places to run to. Still, they caught me because I let them. I knew the attention I had taken had prevented my family from being let out. I knew they must have been as hungry as I was. So, I simply stopped running and laid down for them to take me. They called me names afterwards, rascal for example, but I didn't care. Two strong boys carried me by my legs and sent me to Gyafori. He immediately got the blue rope, put it around my neck and tightened. He must have been annoyed with me because he pulled it a bit too tight. Perhaps to punish me for being rebellious. He handed me over to the stranger who had obviously been waiting to take me away. The stranger took the rope from Gyafori. He looked down and smiled at me. I looked away, disgusted. He walked me out of the village on the narrow path that led to the wide road with no weeds which the big trucks drive on. On the side of which, facing in the direction out of the village was parked a rickety minivan. Another stranger who was sitting in the front seat came out to help get me tied up to the carrier on the roof. That is how the journey out of my home began. The early morning event had been too much for me, so I laid down. I began to fall off as the cool breeze of the fast-traveling wind from the movement of the van hit my eyes. I must have slept for a long time. I first woke to the sound of Accra cra cra craaa!! I opened my eyes, took a long stretch, whimpered and stood up. The first sights that met me had my head reeling for minutes. There were an uncountable number of people, so many milling around in different directions. The buildings were different from what I am used to. Tall, short, wide, different shapes and colours too. The cars were just as many, uncountable. They were moving right on the tail of each other on black roads not brown. There was smoke in the air instead of dust. The air stunk of burnt rubber tyres, very much unlike that of Binkyeem's. The sight and sounds were out of this world, at least the world I knew. I had never heard so much noise in my life. There were thousands of different sounds thrown together and playing out all at the same time. My ears began to ring. How do these humans cope with such? Suddenly, I missed the peace and serenity of Binkyeem, my eyes welled up and I began to bleat and kick uncontrollably. This must have annoyed the stranger greatly because he stuck his head out the window and shouted at me to quiet down! I did not mind him. I kept bawling and pounced up and down the roof as far as the rope allowed for a good long while. Then I heard several other human voices protesting at the racquet I was causing, obviously irritated by it. I ignored their rants and kept kicking even more loudly as I hauled myself into the air. Of course, I couldn't get anywhere as any hard attempts would have been suicidal. The rope on my neck could very well strangle me. I went on for a bit while then stopped as suddenly as I began. Hunger, it just hit me. I was hungry, very hungry. My stomach cramped. Nothing had gotten into it since I woke, except the few laps of water I took at the pond just after my escape. Heart pumping hard from exhaustion I laid down and shut my eyes tightly. I wanted to imagine the nightmare away. So I went in and out of sleep as we travelled hundreds of kilometres through many towns and cities away from Binkyeem. I presume our destination was Accra as a particular voice yelled out repeatedly whenever someone got off the van. People got on and off the van the whole time we travelled, very strange behaviour. That was pretty much the way things rolled until we arrived at the place, I presumed to be Accra. I figured it must be Accra because everyone got off the van and the voice stopped calling out A'cra cra craaa! The driver, that is the stranger who bought me parked the van in a big yard full of big busses and mini vans just like the one I travelled on. It was sundown. I was hoping I would be untied and let down after everyone got off, but it wasn't to be. My new owner went away from the van for some time and returned with a woman carrying a tray full of foodstuffs on her head. He took the load and put it in the van before driving us out of the yard. By now the hunger pangs have totally disappeared. I was no longer hungry, just tired and missing home. Not long after we left the yard full of cars my new owner stopped in front of the biggest house I've ever seen and honked loudly. A man came to open the wide gate and my new owner drove through all the way to the end of the driveway. He called out for the gateman to come help him take me down. I allowed them to untie and carry me down without a fuss. The gateman pulled in a direction I did not want to go. I wanted to bolt but where to? Besides I was tired so bleated in mild protest as he led me to a spot opposite a small backyard garden. It was obvious the place had been specially prepared for me. There was a plate of food, fresh cassava peel sitting on the ground with a bowl of the clearest water I've ever seen. Water so clear I could see my face in it. The water from the pond in Binkyeem is not as clear as this one. It is usually brown and muddy. The gateman tied me to a metal pole close by my dinner. Then called out, " the goat is here boys!" I settled down and helped myself to many laps of water. Before I could finish drinking water three kids rushed out of a door at the house, I had not taken note of earlier on. Aponkye goat! One yelled, came close and stamped her feet in front of me in an attempt to scare me. It worked. I was startled. Another one reached out and pulled my horns. “Hey, let's name her Lupe. I think she looks like Lupe in Ferdinand the movie.” he told the others. I was annoyed. I'm not a she. I bleated. He took no notice. The third squat in front of me. Eyeball to eyeball he looked at me and said in a soft voice. “Hello Mr Christmas goat, you are welcome to Glory Villa.” he smiled at me and passed his hands down my back. Although brief, it felt good. The boys played around me for a while. referring to me as Lupe. I wanted to tell them I've always been known as Koo and I have been fine with it. But of course, I couldn't. So Lupe I had become. Night fell. The kids left me to go inside. I had managed to take a few bites of my dinner while they circled around me. I missed home. This is the very first time my entire life I'm alone. I felt lonely. The cool hamattan breeze did not help either. I laid down and thought of home. I don't recall falling off. I must have slept deeply as a result of exhaustion from yesterday's long journey to Accra. It's daybreak, the gateman just woke me. I felt the rope being untied from the pole. I knew it was time. I did not protest. I calmly allowed him to lead me into the garden. From what I see around him I have no doubt he is also the butcher. He had already prepared a place for me. I see a small hole about a metre from where I stood, freshly dug. I know I'm the reason for that hole. Next to it was a gleaming sharp knife. He tied my four legs, two together and laid me on my side. I closed my eyes and thought of Binkyeem. I thought of mum, my cousins and my human playmates, the little boys in the village. Surprisingly. I felt glad. I've always known it was for this very reason I was born, to be someone's dinner. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. It was as blue and clear as that of Binkyeem. It calmed me. Feeling peaceful, I closed my eyes again and waited for the butcher to do his job. Here I am, about to fulfill my purpose of being a Christmas goat.