#benjaminnambu

Seems not everyone appreciates the truth. And when people are unappreciative of the truth you tell them, you begin to wonder if you need to revise your approach, or perhaps you’re not in touch with the times if you’re still honest. I have recently decided to fake my identity, and so far, so good. When I honestly share my feelings and intentions, girls reject me. But since I’ve been acting in…

Make-up is a constant reminder that perfection is temporary. And that the true self always comes with imperfections. Against my will, a storm is rising. Bent on finding my weakness. She’s told me she’s visiting. To stay at my end for a few days. How do I explain to her that things have changed? I’m in a relationship now and besides, it’s not a good time of the month to host a visitor.…

I now understand why rich people live in quiet neighborhoods and the masses live in noisy environments. To be rich, one has to think. And a noisy environment isn’t conducive to quality critical thinking that brings progress. A story should have a beginning, a middle and an end where everything ties up neatly together. But how often in life do mysteries get unraveled ? And if stories must reflect…

Image by Eyüb Belen athletethe uncovered miles, they lie withinwaitinglike the oak tree in an acorn the road callslet your uniqueness answer the dreams beating in your bloodthey refuse to diethey are rebellingcoagulating into fatrendering you sluggish the road callsriserun with the sunburn everything withinthat’s overshadowing your glowfor you’re a source of light

I just started reading the book “Expanding job opportunities in Ghana” by Maddalena Honorati and Sarah Johansson de Silva. From the little I have gathered so far, it promises to be an interesting read. In the overview, a few statements catch my attention: -“Ghana was, until very recently, a success story on the African continent,achieving high and sustained growth and impressive poverty…

It’s Friday night. Tired of being indoors with annoying roommates so I step outside to catch some fresh air, and suddenly remember the little park on the campus of a university behind my hostel. Lovers and benches. Singles like me are certainly not welcome into such spaces, yet I impose myself. In a far corner of the park were a church choral group rehearsing. There is everything in this park.…

our love, made of wax, dwindled the longer it livedlike an echo, i disappeared when ignoredyour promises kept coming but never arrivingkeeping me awake like a riverhaving a bed but never sleeping others used what belonged to memore than i didyet i’ve never grown afraid to keep givingbecause my love grows the more i sharethe more you took from me, the larger i becameinstead of choosing meyou chose…

Finally, I get to campus. And just as I predicted, our presentation was a disaster. I think of great football teams. They don’t win every match they play. But the good and bad days add to the collection of memories that unite them, and serve as reservoirs of hope and lessons for the future. After lectures, I take a seat under a tree not far from our department, watching coursemates…