I had a good time at church today and as such I was not going to come here with any bit of anger left in me but the devil always has a way to distort the inner peace and happiness that God gives to His children.
It was a fundraising Sunday and I love such days—not because of the money but because I am able to dance for long. I go to a small church but on such days, they bring in all the needed musical instruments to make the church fun.
I always given 5 GHS and I won’t just increase it because it is fundraising when my salary remains the same. Hell No! I don’t miss such Sundays because of the good music and the opportunity to dance off some of the small devils in my life.
But it all changed when I logged on here to read an earlier article which plainly suggests that Ghanaians back home (Africans and Jamaicans back home) are some sort of paupers—who are alive because those abroad send us some money and toy gadgets.
What sort of deep nonsense is this? How many times in a month do you donkey working people send us money back home? All those days or months we do not hear from you, do you hear that we’ve died out of starvation? Tweaaaaa!
We may not be rich in cash but we are rich in time and happiness and did any one put a gun to your heads to travel abroad? The small pounds, dollars and electronic gadgets made by some Chinese children that you guys pass back to us should not give you the impudence to insult us.
When you guys ask us back home to send you Milo, Titus Sardines, Neat Fufu, African Prints, dried fish and all manner of ingredients including ‘Dawadawa’ and Okro, do we complain? You sit in Europe or America and you want our delicious made in Ghana Shito and yet you do not want to send us some of your pounds or Euros in exchange…
When did hand go, hand come became a reason to complain? When my Auntie in Canada comes home with her 7 children, always lined up like a football team—I do everything for them. I push their bags from the airport; I bath the children each day, wash their clothes and even become a tour guide who takes them on sight seeing. And she expect me to do all these for free?
So handing to me some cheap Nokia phone that you probably bought from a ‘1 dollar shop’ as a form of compensation has now become a headache—to the extent that you people have started complaining… You know what, when you die, let them bury you there.
When you see my African Print dress and you love it, you are able to boldly say it but when I love your new laptop, I should not be allowed to say it…Nonsense!
Let me move on to my main reason for writing today and leave these over worked brains living in cold countries alone. Perhaps, all their brains are frozen like those Kpala fishes we buy from the area cold store.
Few years ago, I made my mind not to change for any goddam person called a MAN or else, I would end up meeting myself in the mirror and I would not even recognise that the lady is me. I became deeply worried about this when every man I met had a tall list of things they expressly asked me to change about myself or impliedly expected me to change.
From the length of my finger nails to how I even wash my Vajayjay, men seem to want you to do it a certain way— I mean their way.
You cannot dress a certain way when their friends are around. You cannot speak a certain way when these same friends are around and yet he speaks however he wants when you friends are around and wears whatever he pleases.
For Christ sake, why must the woman be the one who has to always change something about herself if the relationship has to work? My ex boyfriend bought me a new sim card so that all my old boyfriends could not contact me—again.
He was able to buy me a sim card yet he could not buy me a new phone to go with the sim card. That was when I decided that, this one will not last—let’s see what the next move will be and I will be gone (in my Jamaican accent).
This man kept his old number and kept in touch with whoever he wanted and yet, I could not even hangout with some of my female friends because they were too promiscuous or were bad influence—all under his estimation and judgement.
You will meet a man who will say he loves natural hair—and the moment you cut your hair, you will catch him constantly checking out girls with fake long weaves. I once nearly punched a guy exactly because of this. And this time, I was not going to punch his face, rather his two dangling balls.
I see no reason why the government has not made punching legal—just for the women so we can break the balls of some of these confused men who will surely produce confused sperms to perpetuate their confused genes.
I have friends who have changed everything about themselves for men and the sad part of it all is that, these men eventually disappear—and then when you next see them, they will be with someone who is everything they said they hated. If this is not called confusion, then it is insanity.
You have to watch his favourite sports and begin to love his kind of music. Even if you hate his favourite food, you cannot really say it but he is able to tell you in the face that your favourite TV programme is shallow. What the heck?
Mostly, it is not that hard if you love the person and you so much want to be with him but eventually when his ginger bread man a$$ disappears, it catches up on you and that is when you begin to really get angry for everything he has caused you to do to yourself. Perhaps, this partially explains my perpetual state of anger…
I don’t understand why most men are still walking on our streets. A lot of them deserve to be crucified or castrated for the way they go about making women buy into their deceit, get these women to alter everything about themselves including the way they think—and finally jump off the bus without anybody to answer to.
Most men know little or nothing about female fashion, yet they push to influence what you wear—all in an attempt to change you or shape you into this perfect woman they have in their wild dreams.
On a bigger scale, they can even influence or change your career path and before you know, instead of chasing your dream—you will be helping them chase their dreams. I have no problem with this if they are going to stick around and enjoy the fruits of their dreams with you. Mostly, when things begin to happen, that is when they begin to see everything that is wrong with you—as if they were blind and their eyes just got opened.
If after completely changing a woman’s life and focus, a man decides to run away to the next woman who may suffer this same ‘fate’, who can raise his or her hand up against putting this man down and smashing his balls like the way we used to crack palm nut when we were kids?
If a man expects a woman to change, he should also be ready to change a hell lot of things to conform or to make the woman happy—or else, it becomes disproportionate and poisonous.
Since my decision, I change when I freaking want to change—and I do it on my own terms. If you are a man and you don’t want that, go find a bimbo with a blonde hair who will gladly change for you. Because this woman here has long graduated from the school of bimbos…