What do you see?

I see hands,

you see different colors .

I see unity,

you see disjoint cooperation.

I see humanity,

you see races

I see oneness,

you see temporary togetherness.

I see a grip on an uncertain tomorrow,

you see the promises of today

I see tomorrow,

you see a short “now”.

I see our lives,

you see lies.

I see us,

you see you

I see what we are supposed to be


You chose to see hatred, discrimination, division and many more that words can’t describe.


I took you as a dream,
but to you, I was a random thought
Lasting only as long as the final gasp for air under water
I took you as a seed, hoping for a bloom I would watch tomorrow
but to you, I was a ripe fruit offered by the season
I took you as a journey, steps into miles away from the beginning
but you took me as a destination, a rest from all your troubles,
an end before the start.
I took you as me, nothing else, pure selfishness,
but to you, I was a public utility at everyone’s disposal
a stranger you met on the road
A relationship that’ll last as far as the journey
I took you as love, but to you,
I was a mere childish fantasy


I love summer
The days look the brightest
the sun’s rays makes everything glow
the heat will make us barbecue
In the evenings
When its not hot and its not cold
We’ll walk along the road to the riverside
Your hand in mine.
Winter is coming
the willows on the water will go
the sun will gently fade out
taking our smiles away
the woods will fall
We’d all go inside
Staying by mama at the fireside…


The Stay In School Project is an initiative of the National Service Association of the Keta Municipality in collaboration with SpreadAid International with its main focus on kids and seeks to “put smiles on the faces of children”. SpreadAid International undertakes various projects every year including visits to deprived communities, organizing conferences and seminars to build up its members and youth.
As part of the associations resolve to make the Keta Municipality better, the project, spearheaded by the Executives of NASPA Keta Municipal led by their President Timothy Amaglo-Mensah have seen the need to help keep the children from deprived communities in school.
The projects which involves visiting of schools in deprived communities , spending time with the pupils , telling them our own stories and motivating them( giving them a reason to stay in school and study), and most importantly , donation of stationery and other learning materials to help in their studies , is part of our campaign to fight illiteracy in the Municipality.
The stay in school projects will help keep these pupils in school, giving them a reason to keep being in school and to hope for a brighter future. The first school adopted in this campaign by Keta NSS/NASPA and SpreadAid is Bomigo M/A Basic School in Bomigo a small island town in Tunu. This will come off on the 23rd of November 2018.
All well-wishers, government agencies, private companies and philanthropists who share in the dream of getting a child to stay in school and wish to support in any way are cordially welcomed.


She’s leaving after all,
the truck’s screech pulled me from the gallows of sleep
The packing was right behind my window.
Although I had decided not to help,
I still had an interest.
Whiles she made the call,
I surveyed the loot
Quite a fortune it was
College covered all her alleyway jobs
But for us who knew, we knew.
There were two giant mirrors
many pocket sized ones were stowed away  somewhere in the treasury
I counted a heap of luggage
For once, I doubted my arithmetic
Deep inside, I kept musing
I must have made a mistake.
We never did hold a grudge
But, I could never say goodbye
The doors to the truck jammed,
the engine revved to life
Gradually, my dream embraced reality
And as my eyes peeped through the shady glass louvers,
She was gone with the wind

More than a view

I needed help
not a look in my direction
I tried calling your name
Though it keeps eluding me,
I haven’t forgotten
Maybe it’s because I can’t hear myself speak
The waves too won’t give me a chance
The rotor is worsening matters
I don’t have too long
Holding on to this board
For how long I can’t seem to remember
Though my mind keeps reminding me – I was once on a ship
As a crew member or a passenger?
That, not necessary for now
I can’t let go now
No not now
Everything is pulling me back
Mum’s faint voice from the kitchen
gives me hope
One more time with her at the kitchen table
Munching cookies and watching the sea from the window
I have more than a view of the sea now
Maybe even all of it
Or it probably has me

In my mother’s name

The fat cheque wasn’t enough
A plan struck him
HE had to act fast
Working in the NGO around the corner
the building spoke volumes.
Carefully, HE wove the words
into a beautiful proposal
The plan was top notch
Who wouldn’t want to support?
A project to help rural suffering women
Of which my poor mother would partake in.
She would sleep in the suite
away from the hard mat on the floor
For 3 months in that big hotel.
With her friends too
It was all part of the project HE setup
Each night, the zeros added up
Whilst elsewhere, mum and her friends chatted
Each evening on their way to the stream
About how difficult the day had been.
Everything was perfectly drafted
In HIS mind
And on the paper for records
but it wasn’t real
It all happened in his well furnished office
Somewhere in the corner
Of the busy streets of Accra
My mother still doesn’t know,
that HE used her name
At least, she’s more educated than her friends
They also don’t have the slightest idea
The zeros are still adding up in his account each day.
HE hasn’t even been to our village before
But has collected the transport allowance.
Let me tell you,
Mum prays silently to God each day
waiting for you.
You only show up to collect the funds
And end up in the bars and grills
With our money.
The cycle continues but will end with your hands on your head
When God pleads the cause of my poor mother.

Midnight tunes


I heard a sound in the middle of the night
I couldn’t help but wake up
If it is my name,then,
My hopes told me it was you
My lover from afar
With a message,
An apology for our break-up
From far away on your journey
Or it was mama’s faint voice
Calling from her little hut in the outskirts of nowhere
Wanting to see the son who would never come home
It could be papa’s gentle cough before he started the stories
It could have been the bats or the owls too
Having their full in the moon’s glare
Ignorant they might have raised false hopes
All I knew
And I must have desired
Was that this sound would be familiar
A knock to announce her return,
A whisper from dad’s grave,
Telling me where he’d left my toy in Afghanistan.
Though I knew,
those in the graves kept mute.
Or a ring of the telephone
With a message of mom’s miraculous recovery.
I’m still awake
Trying to figure out
What sound it really was
My eyes are heavy
It’s either I continue in my sleep
And hope to hear it again, or
Stay awake with faith.
I can’t give up just yet
The midnight tune has just begun.

Until tomorrow

My hands refused to let go
dumb for words,
My pencil would talk tomorrow
In the solitude of my abode
On a piece of canvas
Clear enough to behold your beauty
Detailing each contour of your frame
For now,
I’ll let my eyes do the talking
Each blink
would speak volumes of my desire
A wish for your stay,
a prayer for your return.
I knew we had to go
Taking different routes
There were eyes in the darkness around us
We can’t afford a public opinion
Until tomorrow
Until the morning when we tie the knot
For now,
I have to let go
And hope you’d come back
I won’t have to look back to watch your steps
They’d be as careful as your smiles
Your pace neatly spaced
Until tomorrow,
when I see you again.

Bruised callouses

The kid with the off-beat dance
Competing with none but the music
We were all saying thank you
with heads bowed in submission
Turning my attention to God,
I noticed the guy next to me
He was staring at his palm
Silent prayer it seemed.
Amidst the glowing colourful lights,
I could make out callouses
Not one or two,
but as many as could tell the summary of how his year had been.
Some told tales of his journeys away from home,
Some were reddened from his neighbour’s hatred
Some already bruised by rejection
He sighed,
Joining both palms together,
He clapped to his maker
Who he knew silently watched from above.
He believes there’d be no more callouses
The priest’s prophecy affirmed.