Month: May 2016

Social media sensationalism.
Greetings. Another Friday. I love social media. It is like being surrounded by a bank of computers and being fed with all sorts of news. At once!
I simply love the way we grab onto a topic and make some hullabaloo. After 2 or 3 days, we start another one. SENSATIONALISM!
We need to address issues and see them to a fruitful conclusion not like that half baked bread. (can you imagine?)
I love Whatsapp. I love their platform experience but it’s a nuisance at times. It has allowed for mates, friends, siblings, ex-lovers, would be lovers, enemeies, frenemies to share a common platform of cyber socialisation. A cyber walk in a cyber park. We gift and share cakes. We share beers and whiskeys (nsem wo world). At times it is just a load of ….being shared. Irrelevant stuff. But then if what you like is what I like I would have a brassiere on my b…
From Facebook to Whatsapp, maybe Twitter and LinkeDIn, now everyone preaches. I don’t want to know how much you love God. Stop telling me every day. I would rather you live God in your life. Yes live Him. What have you done that would show you to be your brother’s keeper?
Morning afternoon evening night.
Empower someone. Encourage someone.
I have showed you love. You too
SHOW LOVE!
I am yours truly
#SILENTNOISES

“I am now an angel”.

” I eat and wine with the Lord himself”.

” Call me by this title”.

” You cannot just come into my presence”.

” touch not my annointed”

Jesus the Christ as was and still is his title, did not seek self aggrandizement nor material wealth. When he chose to use a vehicle on land, it was a donkey. When he entered his Father’s house and saw the rot in the place, he took a cane.

When people don’t like reading, they await a for a few to read and narrate to them. A lot of people simply don’t read. In that scenario, a One eyed man is reverred by the blind. He is actually proclaimed a king.

Some pastors simply lie because they know their congregants are ignorant. They know their people will dare not challenge them. Their people are scared because the good book says ” touch not the Lord’s annointed.”  These days we see every he  and she becoming a pastor because the Lord called them. Who saw the call? Who heard the call? I forget. It is a feeling. Afterall, Jesus is in the miracle business. In the words of one of these pastors ” this church business that we are doing is from Jesus..”

It is their aim to acquire wealth and bequeath same to their born and unborn generation that leads some of these pastors to tell lies. Having escaped from the wicked clutches of poverty and preying on the gullibility and vulnerability of people, they tell them what they want to hear.

Let us not forget the socio-economic aspect. Due to the flight of the economy on a downward trend, people tend to seek solace from these pastors with the hope that these men of god would turn things around for them, Verily verily I say unto you if you spend all your time in church how will your business grow? Each Sunday is filled with impartation and sowing of seeds. What fruit is being grown? What seed ? Who reaps? As madam wants a  child, she comes to the pastor to be prayed for. It is good. Definitely counseling takes place. Why don’t you tell the truth to the woman to seek medical help,  for her inability to produce is as a result of all the abortions she committed? Why won’t you tell that lady in the church why she is still not married? Why won’t you tell that rich young man the truth about his lifestyle?  Is it because of the tithe, the offering, the gifts? There  is the need to feed the people lies just so their (pastors)lives go on too.

If it is not so, then tell me ” why do some pastors tell lies?”

Sunday afternoon. New Haven. Connecticut. Amongst ladies. My sisters.

It was as though we were not present. I switch. Bear with me.

They talked about him in his presence. It seemed he had gained an aura of invisibility. These ladies referred to as sisters are friends. They had grown a partnership that surpassed common comprehension. Though they believed God to be their backbone, they trusted him to be there for them. He had tried willingly to be available at all times. After all they seldom called him and if they did, he made it a point to run over.

It is one thing to have a friend. It is another to have a friend claim you as a brother or sister. Yet still it goes beyond when it is lived. From your perch when you perceive that love in display without fear of future repercussions then you know Ghana jollof is better than Nigerian jollof.

It is sad when you are of the same stock and those you know do not even acknowledge you. It is disheartening; gut wrenching. But then not all are cut of the same cloth though the same mill produced the cloths.

These beautiful ladies ( in and out) urged this man on his endeavors. They asked him to be  mindful of his health for there was still a lot of good to be let out. They discussed him in his presence. It was the truth laid bare. They minced no words.

He felt loved. He felt appreciated. He was encouraged.

I was there. I was one of four men present.  I only chose to write down what transpired for future reference.

Encourage someone. Someone will encourage YOU.

#SILENTNOISES

                                         To my Creator alone be the glory.
I pray no human takes credit for who I am or what I do. I give all the glory to God who  fashions and guides my steps. I will not claim piety nor infallibility. I am human just like you.
I am equally flesh and blood. I have my dislikes and likes. I like to do certain things but then it is not everything that I still do. Judge me not for I will not judge you. The past can be used as a yardstick but never hold it as leverage.
I write this piece purposely to answer one question. The why and what do I write.
I write as a medium of expression. I write to communicate my thoughts. I write to encourage. I write to help others understand certain things. I write because I love to write. I would give anything to just write and write and write. Initially both parents were against me writing. Then Mummy converted and encouraged . Daddy was the last to convert. He simply loved my unconventional style. His son dared to be different. I would not be ruled by the norms of literary devices. I created my own rhythm . He understood me to the extent that he was my co-author on a couple of projects. Then he departed. Had he been alive……
I have been beaten down for what I write. Some claim it is full of controversy. Yet still others claim it lacks direction. I laugh. I am open to criticism but then, my style of writing is different. If we don’t rewire our attitudinal thinking, we will forever be stuck. We will never move forward. To be precise, I think outside the box.
I write differently. I write for the common man. I write for the underdog. I write for the downtrodden. I write with an aim to correct the ills of society. I do not write using the conventional style of writing. I write using The Ntem-Mensah style. My style.
On the #THERUDEAWAKENING, a radio show in Atlanta, Georgia hosted by my good friend Ras Poku, I was encouraged to keep writing and doing what I do by my co-panelist Guy Foxx and him.  So far as I am not encouraging laziness or anything untoward, and I am only out to cause some critical thinking, then they believe it is a good thing I do.
Yes, I write to cause people to think. I advocate for a rewiring of our attitudinal thinking. I believe that what was good yesterday will not suffice today moreso tomorrow. It will have to be improved. Society is dynamic.
To my followers, I say thank you. Don’t stop reading. The change is YOU.

Mama Mama Mama
i never paid mortgage
not to mention rent;
i lived
free
i ate and drank
free
i run about
without a care
i did not work yet i enjoyed
i feared none

mama mama mama
i cry from the waters
it’s icy cold
it stinks
it is sewage!
papa papa papa
why did you leave
you lied to
mama me mama me
it could have been me
running around

in tears Mama stood
never to do it again
absolute love on me she showers
guiding me till she leaves.
hold on,
My papa was my mama
‘cos mama left me

mothers day is a day for Mothers and those
that care for us like mothers should

(Please note. This purely a work of fiction.)

They were in love. It was bliss. This was what they both wanted. Now they stood together. Extreme joy on their faces; each in a glorious ecstasy that drowned out the cacophony of yells of good tidings and blessings as the Reverend Minister pronounced them “man and wife”. It was sheer unexplained happiness. It bubbled forth like an early morning spring in the cool dawn of a green forest. A dream had become a reality. They would finally consumate their union. They had never known each other. They had only cuddled albeit a mild hug. A peck on the lips not a kiss. Each lived still with their parents. Today would be spent in the penthouse of a five-star hotel.

With that thought in mind, a wicked smile between them, they waltzed their way out of the church to take photographs. This was an event they would have loved to skip. They were in a haste to know themselves.

As they were in a haste to get married. They had married two months after meeting. They were both in their mid forties and there was immense pressure from both families. They had dated on a fast lane. They could have been ticketed for speeding. It was all functions and events. It was either in the evenings or late afternoons. They were always fresh. She was a beauty to behold. She is your dream. He on the other hand seemed to use the best fragrances as his bathwater. Their church frowned on copulation before marriage. They bid their time. After all they had been waiting all their life. They had never known themselves and it heightened the suspense. They were not…..

Expecting that in the morning. They were yet to move in together. This was the honeymoon. The first night together. They had been working all night and into the early morn. Love making on your wedding night is work. The approach is diligently methodical. Virgins or not, standardized or overboard would be known.

As she came into the bedroom from the bathroom the stench hit her. ” Honey, Honey” she said ” something stinks in the room. Like a dead animal”. His face was buried in the pillow inhaling the sweet fragrance of his wife. His wife.

He turned. He screamed. He fell off the bed. It was a California king size bed. He was ensconced in the middle yet he fell off with a scream. ” Who are you?” he asked. His mind registered. Same body but the face. It was the face.

They sat. They talked. They resolved to work on themselves. This was a case of unmistaken identity. Till death do us part!