Behind the Door by Kola Tubosun

Why I finally decided to take the test, I no longer remember. There was no compulsion whatsoever beyond the recurring curiosity that was never strong enough to overcome all reasonable and unreasonable resistance. After about a week in and out of the clinic, getting one immunisation injection or another, the last thing I wanted on my arm was another needle jab. No desire for the certitude of my wholesomeness was enough to goad me into the ordeal of venipuncture, and my thoughts dangled for years between unexplainable reluctance and indifference...



This story has been selected for the StoryTime anthology African Roar, please go to the African Roar site for more info on the book.

Behind the Door was written by Kola Tubosun.

Copyright Kola Tubosun 2009.

Kola Tubosun is the 2009/10 grantee of the Fulbright FLTA program to Southern Illinois University, Edwardsville. He studied Linguistics and African Languages at the University of Ibadan, and Moi University, Eldoret Kenya, where he was also awarded a MacArthur Foundation Scholarship in 2004. His first collection of poetry, Headfirst into the Meddle was published in
Ibadan in 2005. His poem "Creation Story" won the First Prize in the Ibadan Christopher Okigbo Poetry Competition in 2004. Another one, "Here, Moving" won the Sentinel Poetry Bar Challenge in October 2006. He was born, and continues to live, in Ibadan, Nigeria.

The Nestbury Tree by Ayodele Morocco-Clarke

It all started to kick off when the Shepherd of the church located at the far side of the compound behind the house pronounced that the Nestbury tree in the yard was a haven for witches and had to come down. Now, this was a church my parents had built and the Nestbury tree was a tree my grandfather had planted as soon as he bought the property. He had brought the Nestbury sapling from Kingston, Jamaica when he migrated to Lagos...


This story has been selected for the StoryTime anthology African Roar, please go to the African Roar site for more info on the anthology.

The Nestbury Tree was written by Ayodele Morocco-Clarke

Copyright Ayodele Morocco-Clarke 2009.

Born in Lagos, Nigeria and descendant of kin from the West Indies, Sierra Leone and the Republic of Benin, Ayodele Morocco-Clarke is a Nigerian of mixed heritage currently living in the United Kingdom.

She is a multi-award winning Solicitor and Advocate of the Supreme Court of Nigeria who is devoted to the written medium. She likes to describe herself as stubbornly unconventional.

Ayodele’s short stories have been published and are forthcoming in anthologies of short fiction and literary journals or magazines.

She is currently finishing work on a short story anthology of her own and has recently started work on a novel which she hopes to publish in the not too distant future.

Hope Undeferred by Nana A. Damoah

Dear Kwesi,

This letter comes with a reminder of the best gift I can ever give to anyone - my heart, my love, my life. It is very late here but I am very much awake, 'cos my dear, you are on my mind. Always on my mind. Cupid sent his arrow my way and I lurched forward with my bosom once I espied your name of the tail of the arrow; come and see the hole it has created in my heart. What sweet pain! You know, the heart is not a locket that is opened easily, and once opened, the holder of the key becomes so significant! You hold those keys, Kwesi.

I have heard one say that love, like a flower, quickly blooms and attracts but with the same celerity evaporates like a mirage in the Kalahari. If that is a popular opinion I walk a lonely path then, because my love for you is like the seed that forms in a woman's womb - once fertilised, it only knows growth. Like a mixture of concrete, this love hardens and intensifies in strength as it walks hand in hand with time.

Ah! my heart bleeds with this wound of love. I want you to walk this path of ecstasy, this journey of bliss, this adventure of forever-ness with me - always. I miss you terribly, so much my dear. Come quickly, my Prince, and heal my wound, my heart aches for you, my soul yearns for you and my eyes long to set their gaze on you, again.

I want to sing it out, shout it, tell it on the mountain tops to anyone who cares to listen, to the birds so they carry it to the ends of the world - you are mine, and oh, I love you. Lemme hear from you, darling, because you are all I live for.

She who is yours,

Araba.


She sat back and looked at the letter again. The words seemed to connect with her very soul, and as she focused on each line of the missive, she seemed to be imbuing the words with her spirit, to carry exactly the emotions she felt to the intended recipient. It was about 1 a.m. and the entire ambience was as quiet as a stillborn baby. She did not attempt to hold back the tears that overflowed the swollen banks of her eyes, finding their way into her mouth like River Ankobra's journey to the Atlantic ocean. The salty taste did nothing to soothe her aching heart. Her portable stereo oozed Kojo Antwi's song "Dade anoma" [Metal bird, a reference to an aeroplane], connecting with the thoughts she had transmitted onto paper. She wished, in tandem with the Musicman, that a bird would suddenly appear to take her letter to her loved one. She clutched the scented sheet to her breast, rose and walked to the window, slowly, and watched through the netting. Serene was the view outside, contrasting her feelings. The cool breeze caressed her plump cheeks.

Kwesi was two years ahead of her in the secondary school, Amenfiman High. Araba knew him as a very serious science student, who was so much in love with his books. Rarely did you see him on campus without a book - a textbook, a novel, a book nevertheless. Grave was his countenance most times, pensive his aura almost always. Even in the dining hall, where it was usual for students to chit-chat and tease each other especially before meals, Kwesi would sit quietly at table, reading while meals were being served, and eat without as much as a look around him. In Amenfiman, there were five houses each for the boys and girls, and the houses were named such that there were five pairs. It was the custom that the girls in the female houses shared tables with the occupants of the counterpart male houses. Kwesi was in Bassanyin House, whose counterpart female house was Akoaa house; providence collaborated with fate to ensure that Araba and Kwesi shared the same table. She admired him but only at a distance. He was so sober, how could anyone get across to such? He seemed quite content being by himself always, self-contained, not caring for a chat. The impression was that he would not even have time for anyone, let alone maintaining a friendship with the opposite sex.

Passing by the corner of her dormitory called 'nnipa nse hwee', translated loosely as 'man is worthless' (so named because that was the main gossip corner in the school), she overheard Akosua, the title holder of the Kokonsahemaa (queen of gossip) wondering who the hell Kwesi thought he was, strutting like a peacock, thinking of himself better than everyone else. It was not a good thing to be a topic at Nnipa nse hwee (NNH), and it was a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the NNH council.

Interestingly, though, the more Kwesi was discussed, the more affection did Araba feel for him. She was beginning to understand that Kwesi's apparent aloofness was a challenge to many and this situation to her was like wind to fire - it extinguished the small and rekindled the mighty.

The Scripture union (SU) brought together most young christians together on campus, and both Araba and Kwesi were members. One evening at SU, the program was 'Interaction time', during which members were supposed to interact with and get to know one another better. After a short time of prayer and singing, members were asked to chat amongst themselves. Araba turned to find the first person to talk to, and who did she face but Kwesi! Kwesi, of all the people at the meeting! Her heart missed a beat, no, two beats!

"Hello, I am Kwesi Mills-Brown, form five science," he opened up.

"Hi, my name is Araba...Araba Frimpomaa Larbi. Three C."

The ice was broken. They talked the entire period, a duration which many used to chat with about three persons altogether. It was a hilarious chat they had. It was as if they had known each other for years. She was pleasantly surprised by his sense of humour. Indeed, appearances are deceptive, but smell is not, and had not the elders said that it is only when you shook the nim tree that you smell it well? Definitely one needed to get closer to be able to shake - you can't shake by remote control. She was struck by his quiet nature, his simple choice of words and his depth of knowledge. After exchanging basic information about each other - age, subjects offered, favourite food etc - interspersed with jokes and anecdotes, Kwesi challenged her to live for the Lord and never give up her faith, in whatever difficulty she went through; and to value her salvation, since it was the best thing that had and will ever happen to her.

Before long, it was time for the meeting to wind up, and Araba and Kwesi had to go back to their seats. He again expressed his pleasure at meeting her and promised to keep in touch.

Araba took a long time sleeping that night. She was excited. She relived the chat they had in her mind the umpteenth time. Oh, Kwesi was so pleasant to talk to. Truly, you could not judge an object from afar, she philosophised. She resolved to know him better, for here surely was a friend worth keeping. She reasoned that it was not that Kwesi felt superior to others but that he was just not an extrovert. Only when you got close to such people did you find the gold in them. Eh, Araba, are you now a psychologist, she teased her thoughts, with a laugh. With a angelic smile on her face, she drifted into a peaceful sleep, embracing her thoughts and taking a stroll into dreamland.

True to his word, Kwesi sent a note to her the next morning.


Hi Rabbs, [Oh she remembered! Araba smiled at his reference to her nickname]

It was great chatting with you yesterday. Once again, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I hope to be a friend, and a good one too. There are a lot of things we can share together - our challenges, our anxieties, and of course God's word. Keep on keeping on in the Lord.

God bless,
Kwesi


That note opened the gates to a fulfilling friendship between them. Kwesi and Araba kept nothing hidden from each other, encouraging and spurring one another on. They became an epitome of friendship on campus and grew fond of one another each passing day.

Kwesi passed his 'O' Levels and continued at the same school. After his statutory National service, he continued to the University. He was in his fourth year in Medical school when Araba wrote the letter, that memorable letter, to him.

Araba was teaching for her National service at Assin Kabrofo after completing teachers' training college. Her friendship with Kwesi had developed into something stronge, that 'something' Araba found out during this period of her service.

The National service in faraway Assin, about four hundred kilometers from the capital city, was taking its toll on Araba. Her job as a teacher in the local junior secondary school was exhausting. She was miles away from home, in the midst of unfamiliar people; she felt so lonely. Her companions were the many letters that came from Kwesi, she looked forward to them each week with the expectation of a pregnant woman in her ninth month. Kwesi had become unto her a pillar, a great companion, a balm that soothed her in times of depression and frustration. It was there, in the dense forest area of Assin, where loneliness lead her to do long reflections, excursions in her mind she called them, that she came to the realisation that she was indeed in love. In love and with Kwesi. She saw him, now, not only as a friend and a brother, but a life companion. In retrospect and with the benefit of maturity, she understood her initial feelings towards Kwesi now - it was a seed of affectionate love, right from the start.

But for two months now, she hadn't heard from Kwesi. Had Kwesi deserted her, discarded her, left her when she needed him most, when her mind had finally accepted what her heart has been belting out for a long time, that she was in love with him? Had her love been in vain? The mouth is said not to forget what it tasted only once. How could she forget this love for Kwesi that she had nurtured for all these years?

She had heard many stories about those University guys, how they could easily forget about their steadies as soon as they feasted their eyes on those kyingilingi (slim) Varsity girls. You can't do this to me, Kwesi, surely you can't...but did he love her too, she asked herself yet again. And the letter she wrote to him lately...did she reveal too much of her feelings? Usually it is the hen which went after the corn, and not the other way round. Had she taken a risk in letting Kwesi know exactly she felt about him? But why would she want to roast a juicy piece of corn and leave it in the open parlour just for the next hungry person to grab it for her nourishment? Indeed, is it not only a fool whose own tomatoes are sold to her?

It had been a particularly tiring day. It was about 4.30 p.m. and the she had just returned from school after preparing her students for the impending basic certificate examinations. It had been a week since she mailed that letter to Kwesi. As she changed into her housedress, to try and relax in bed, her thoughts turned to him almost automatically, immediately, effortlessly.

A knock on the door. Who should be disturbing my limited peace of mind at this time of day, she wasn't pleased to wonder. She hesitated for a moment, but the knocking persisted. Sometimes her neighbours could be tenacious when they wanted to ask her opinion. She rose and opened the door, reluctantly.

"Kwesi!"

She jumped into his arms. He nearly lost his footing; she was besides herself with joy. Kwesi smiled at her, that slow delicious smile of his that melted her intestines. She didn't relax her embrace, and he practically had to carry her to the sofa. Araba looked up at him in sheer wonderment, it was so good to be true, Kwesi with her and such a swift answer to her prayers! Such a speedy response to her missive, far beyond her expectations, really!

He suggested they go out for a walk. She obliged and soon with her arms intertwined into his, they took the path that went towards Moseaso, by the peaceful flowing waters of the Ankobra, the waters lovingly washing the rocks in an intricate, ancient ritual, undisturbed by the passage of time. For sometime, they walked in silence. Interesting, reflected Araba, that silence could be so enjoyable when it was shared with someone significant, that silence could speak when one was well tuned to its frequency, when the ambience was right. Araba revelled in the moment and wished it would not end.

Kwesi broke the silence eventually, with a squeeze of Araba's hand. He explained why he had not written for such a long time. He had been on a team of medical students' outreach to the Brong Ahafo region to educate the folks on malaria prevention, as part of a UN-sponsored project. They had been away for about two months and on their return, he found Araba's letter in his pigeonhole - he came to Assin immediately.

"Oh Kwesi" was all Araba could say. She felt cherished, and all the anxiety and tension in the past couple of months seemed to ebb and dissipate.

They were now on the outskirts of the village, on the southern part. The sun was beginning his journey to his sleeping abode, and most of the villagers were returning to their homes from the day's work at their farms, with loads of foodstuff and firewood on their heads. Araba waved back at Auntie Mansa, who had her sixth child tired to her back, with two of her children following their father, who held in his hands a freshly trapped grasscutter. A visitor of 'Miss', as most of the female teachers were called, was always welcome and many of the other folks smiled, waved or stopped to shake hands. It was better to shake hands, since a wave from afar was sometimes deemed uncouth, and referred to as cutting a branch of a tree! However, few stopped to shake the hands of the visitor, as they sensed that Miss wanted some privacy.

Kwesi turned Araba to face him, and he looked down into her eyes.

"My dear, know this. We may still have a long way to go but take this from me. Allow me to borrow from Scripture. Human as I am, I promise never to leave you nor forsake you. You seem to think you alone have the capacity to love, more than all men; all ladies have that false impression. Hear this: I love you back! So long have I loved you, and I have heart aches too. But now I know that my love is for you, and I want to shout it out too, now! We will walk this road together.

Our elders say marriage is like a groundnut, you have to crack it to see what is inside; I think a relationship is also similar. We will crack this together and we will learn to like and appreciate what is inside. Marriage is not like palm wine that you taste and put aside, and I am committed to go all the way with you. I want you to pledge to marry me, Araba. I want you to be my wife."

He embraced Araba warmly. Contentment showed on both faces as they remained in their embrace; Araba could only manage to nod her consent to his request. That was enough for Kwesi, after all to the untrained eye, the antics of the monkey are nonsense but it communicates a lot.

Far above them, the sun smiled gently on those two lovebirds and gave them his blessings, as he opened the door to his house. The songs of the birds ceased, the wind became quiet, the tree branches craned their long necks, all nature seeming to come to a standstill as Kwesi and Araba walked back to the village slowly, arms linked, down the aisle of life, a solemn procession with the trees and creatures of nature as their companions and audience, back to the village, back to love, back to peace. Heartaches may still come their way, but at least they knew they had a cure - their love.

Hope Undeferred was written by Nana Awere Damoah.

Copyright Nana Awere Damoah 2009.

Nana Awere Damoah was born in Kotobabi, a suburb of the capital city of Accra, Ghana, where he spent the first twenty five years of his life, ‘a very tough place to grow up, but a crucible of learning experiences’. He holds a Masters in Chemical Engineering from the University of Nottingham, UK, a first class degree in Chemical Engineering from the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology, Kumasi, Ghana (where he graduated top of his class, receiving the Unilever Excellence and the Shell Foundation awards), and spent all his Secondary school years at Ghana National College, Cape Coast, Ghana.

A British Council Chevening scholarship alumnus, Nana worked with Unilever Ghana Limited from 2000 till 2005 (when he left for further studies) and returned to Unilever Ghana in 2006 after his studies in UK. Presently, he is the Production Manager (Foods) for the Tema factory.

Right from preparatory school, Nana was involved in acting plays and reciting poetry. He started writing seriously when he was about 17 years, in the Sixth form; he began with essays, but moved swiftly into short stories, and has had a number of his short stories published in the Ghanaian weeklies ‘The Mirror’ and ‘The Spectator’. In 1997, he won the first prize in the Step Magazine National Story Writing Competition. In KNUST, he was part of the Literary Wing of the Interhall Christian Fellowship, where he acted and wrote poems.

His poems were published in magazines on KNUST campus. He maintains three blogs of his writings:

Excursions in My Mind (essays)

Stories from the Loom (short stories)

Patmos Collections (poetry)

He also publishes his writings and thoughts regularly on Facebook.com, and has been circulating his Excursions in my mind series amongst his friends via email since 2004.

His first book, Excursions in My Mind, a collection of reflective essays and poems, was published by Athena press UK in October 2008 and is available on Athena.com, amazon.com and amazon.co.uk, as well as in Ghana bookshops. He is working on his second book of essays and poetry, ‘Through the Gates of Thought’, due in March 2009.

As a writer, Nana sees himself as a distillation plant which takes issues around him - mundane, routine everyday occurrences - as his raw material, reflects on and processes them, producing various fractions, fit for use by his readers.



His work with Joyful Way Incorporated, a Christian Music ministry in Ghana, of which he was National President from 2002 to 2004, takes a greater part of his spare time. He is in the Prayer and Counselling Department of the ministry and also plays the drums, when drummers are not available!

He is married to Vivian. The couple and their sons, Nana Kwame Bassanyin and Nana Yaw Appiah, are based in Accra, Ghana.

The River Of Life by Christopher Mlalazi

A star seared across the dark sky – then, without sound, it quickly exploded, sending lemon streaks of flame spurting in all directions, almost lazily.

In the white centre of the explosion, a human being appeared, hurtling towards the glowing orb of the earth in a graceful dive, its naked body haloed by a golden light.

It plunged into a deep pool below a waterfall that savaged down a steep cliff. Water exploded upwards where it disappeared, the spray curling outwards.

A yellow full moon sailed the sky, gazing down from its lofty height at another similar moon that danced in solitude in the middle of this pool.

Suddenly, the moon in the pool erupted in another shower of spray, and where it had been, the human being surfaced, its head bobbing up and down in the water.

The human being had a face, but no facial features. It also had no hair, or ears, but just a smooth round dome that glistened brightly with water as it caught the sparkling night light.

The sky moon slowly brightened. Then, a yellow beam shot from its body, shafted through the darkness towards the head in the river, and fastened on it.

Slowly, slowly, the moon beam whirled around the head, whirling with it, so that the head faced to the east, to the north, to the west, to the south, and finally to the east again.

When the head had completed a full circle, its face had grown eyes, a nose, a mouth, a pair of ears, and a full mop of hair. The face looked up at the moon, and smiled, a dazzling smile full of all the beauty of creation.

The human being raised its hand out of the water, and grabbed the moon beam that bathed its brand new face. It jerked it down - and all the stars in the sky exploded as one in a kaleidoscope of vivid colours.

Where the stars had been, there appeared countless faceless human beings racing earthwards in graceful dives. They were all headed towards the river where the first human being stood neck deep, its eyes two welcoming red beacons in the darkness, their bodies also halloed by a golden light.


At dawn, when the still invincible sun traced its rosy fingers across the swollen belly of the sky, and a thick mist rose up from the jungle to welcome it, the white sands of the banks of the river were crowded stiff with all varieties of jungle animals, which were all staring wide eyed at the strange heads that bobbed in the middle of the water. The eyes on all the heads were closed. A light breeze was blowing.

A cock flapped its wings and crowed. As if on cue, the eyes on all the heads opened, and they all fastened on the animals on the bank, hunger in them, just as the sun peeped its purple eye from behind the serrated top of a mountain in the far distance.

Instinctively, and as one, all the animals whirled around from the bank and they crashed into the jungle, their flight riotous with terrified cries, barks, screeches, hoots and roars.

All the birds on the trees that hung over the river also shrieked in alarm, and took off into the sky in bursts of colourful wings.

The Star People walked out of the river, their naked bodies glistening with water. They were all perfectly limbed, with well muscled chests, but provided with no sexual organs, except for their leader, who was shaped as a woman. She was the first to step on dry land.

On the bank, she turned around and faced the river. As the rest of the sexless Star People stepped out of the water, she grunted and touched their smooth brows lightly with a finger, and turned some to the right, and some to the left, where they grouped silently, all their eyes on her.

Those she turned to the left immediately grew male organs on their blank crotches, and all those she turned to the right grew female organs, and their chests swelled to become two perfectly rounded breasts.

One by one, she carefully inspected the seeding tools of her people, tugging here, probing with a finger there, and she discovered that there were no imperfections, or infections. They were all ready for increase.

The Star People stood in two groups on either side of her, all silently staring at her. She sank down into a squat, closed her eyes, and her face screwed up in effort. There was a peal of thunder.

She stood up, scooped her faeces from the sand with her hands, and threw them into the river. As they plopped into the water, a small dark cloud slid over the staring sun. It suddenly rained furiously, then abruptly stopped again.

The cloud had disappeared. The Star People all looked up at the cerulean sky, beatific smiles on their faces. They turned around and walked into the jungle, following a well used dinosaur track. Their skins were all colourless, and their tongues knew no words...

The River of Life was written by Christopher Mlalazi, and is an extract from his first (NAMA awarded) book Dancing with Life published by ama'Books Publishers, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe.


Copyright Christopher Mlalazi 2008.

Christopher Mlalazi writes prose, poetry, drama (TV and stage), and also children's fiction.



In 2004 he received the HIGHLY RECOMMENDED citation in the Sable Lit Mag/Arvon (UK) Short Story Contest. In 2007 he was shortlisted for the HSBC PEN SOUTH AFRICA SHORT STORY CONTEST, and in 2008 he was awarded the OXFAM NOVIB/PEN FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION AWARD.



He has published short stories in Zimbabwe, Europe, as well as on the web, and was also published in the 2005 Cain Prize Anthology (Orbituray Tango),the 2006 Edinburgh Review, and the 2007 AFRICA PENS. In winter of 2009 he is publishing his debut short story in The Literary Review (USA).

Currently he is working on a novel he hopes to finish by mid 2009, if not earlier, and has a stage play under rehearsal.

On the 14th of Feb 2009, Christopher was awarded the NAMA in the Outstanding First Creative Published Work category for his debut book, a collection of short stories called Dancing with Life.

Unspoken Words by Boakyewaa Glover

Josh sat behind his new Mac computer staring forlornly at the screen. He wasn’t thinking about the $2300 he had recently spent on the laptop. He wasn’t thinking about the report that was pending that he had to write. No, he wasn’t thinking about any of his pressing obligations. He was staring at her picture and thinking about her.

Josh stared at his ex-girlfriend’s face and felt a pang of pain and regret, and it was getting worse with each passing day. And that was mainly thanks to Facebook.

They’d gone their separate ways years ago. When they broke up 10 years ago, he was sure it was over. They’d tried to stay friends. There had been a few random hook ups, sporadic periods of long online chats and text conversations, and rarely some phone calls. Close to two years ago, the communication had dwindled but that hadn’t bothered him much. He was over her, had been over her for years. There were no lingering feelings. He was done with it all. He lived a very active life, especially socially. There was always something happening. He didn’t have time to brood. He’d probably dated at least four women since their break and slept with countless more. She was never on his mind, not until now anyways.

Almost two years, they connected on Facebook. In the beginning, she was barely on there and so he didn’t think about her or wonder what she was up to. But over the last year, the activity on her page had surged. There was always some party she was at, some pictures with friends and boys, some mysterious status updates and changes. She looked happy, she looked blissful; she looked good. He’d started looking forward to alerts that involved her, mainly out of curiosity, but now it had become something more.

He didn’t know how it happened, or when exactly, but he realized he was missing her all over again, wanting to be a part of her life, part of her pictures, part of her story. And that feeling was troubling him.

Josh abhorred sappiness. He was a tough guy. He didn’t love easy, but when he did, it was strong and overwhelming. He had loved her that same way, with an intensity that he couldn’t control, that had broken him when it all ended. But he’d moved on pretty quickly. For years after they broke up, he’d never wanted her back or needed her. He had moved on. What the heck was happening to him now?

He turned his gaze away from the screen, from the picture of her and a rather good looking guy, hugging tightly. He stood up and walked around his room, frustrated with himself. He was involved with another woman, two actually, so why did she keep creeping into his head. Was it just because of the pictures? Did he really miss her? He’d thought about removing her from his Facebook friends, but that would be rude and she’d wonder and probably confront him. He couldn’t think of anything else he could possibly do. He wasn’t sure if these were real feelings or just his heart and mind playing games on him. Maybe this was nothing serious, nothing to panic about.

Besides, she was all the way in London, and he was here, in the US. Why was he worried? But he knew he couldn’t fool himself much longer. He missed her. He really missed her. There was no denying that.

“Hey Josh, did you get the link I sent you, with the hotels?”

He turned towards the door at the sound of his roommate’s voice.

“Yeah Nana, thanks man, it should be fun huh,” he said.

“For sure man, I’m heading to the store, need anything?”

“No, I’m straight, thanks.”

“Ok, catch you later then. Make sure you book your hotel ASAP.”

When his roommate left, he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was looking forward to the DC trip with his boys. They all rarely left California and they’d decided it was time to go check out some East Coast bunnies. That should help take his mind off her. He really hoped so.


“Kris? Kris? Are you with us?”

Kris snapped out of her daydream and stared blankly at her co-worker standing over her.

“Huh?” she muttered, trying to quickly close Josh’s Facebook page.

Her co-worker Sandi laughed, “Uh, no need to do that. Who cares? I check my Facebook page a 100 times a day. I swear I think my boyfriend is sleeping with his so-called best friend. They post on each other’s wall like a gazzillion times a day!”

Kris laughed and shrugged. Who knows, he probably was.

“Anyways, Kris, we have to finalize our flights to DC. You want to head out there the weekend before the meeting, right?”

Kris nodded and turned back to her screen. She pulled up her outlook calendar. She had been praying feverishly that the offsite her company held at different global locations each year would be held in California. Instead her Managing Director chose DC, probably because he wanted to go check out the White House, hope for a glimpse of the first family. She loved DC but Josh was in Cali and lately all she could think about was Josh.

Kris’s mind started to drift again. Her resurrected feelings for Josh were driving her crazy and she hated it. After their break up, she’d obsessed over him for years, it was pathetic. Eventually she moved on and they tried to be friends, and she felt she handled that pretty well. She couldn’t remember exactly how but they’d drifted apart again. When he first sent her the Facebook friend request, she hadn’t thought much of it, hadn’t been all excited. A main part of it was because at the time she found Facebook tedious, and also because she was sort of seeing someone else. But over the last year, she’d gotten drawn into the whole social networking thing, and with it came the inherent problems. Catching up with old friends was great, but seeing old crushes and boyfriends move on and be happy was hard. Josh looked like he was having the time of his life. There were so many pictures of him in bars, parties, clubs, holidaying in Bermuda with skimpily clad gorgeous women, and more along those lines.

And then there was the status updates; stuff like ‘thinking of someone’, ‘best day in a long time, thanks to...’ and so forth. She couldn’t stand it, and yet she checked out his page at least once a day.

Josh was the love of her life. She’d loved him with her whole heart, loved him passionately and wholly and completely. And when it ended, she’d been in denial for years. She’d prayed for a second chance, and eventually she let it go and tried to move on, until now. She wondered if she really missed him, or maybe it was just Facebook making her feel all sentimental. Whatever it was, she wanted to see him again, look at him again, know for sure she was over him. God she sincerely hoped she was, because she knew Josh was definitely over her. And when Josh was done, he was done.

Hesitantly, she opened up the internet explorer window and began searching for tickets to DC. Who knows, maybe she’d meet the love of her life there.


Josh threw his bag into the far corner of the plush hotel room. He and his boys had gone all out for this trip. ‘You only live once’ was their motto. Why the heck were they making over $100k a year? He was paid an outrageous sum of money and he liked to spend it. He wasn’t stupid and frivolous but he lived in each moment. He could die tomorrow, so why get a cheap low class hotel? Plus California women didn’t like cheap, so he’d learnt not to be. His cell phone rang and he glanced at it. Mimi, that girl was psychic, but incredibly hot. He answered.

“Josh! Are you in town yet? You did say today right?”

“Yeah, Mimi, I just got here,” he said as he dropped onto the bed, placing his feet on the clean sheets.

“So what’s up? What are you guys doing tonight? Some of the girls and I are going to Lavish tonight, it’s a hot lounge. But it’s early yet, I can swing by now if you want.”

He could picture her twirling her hair with her fingers, trying to look coy and sexy, hoping it would translate in her voice. He resisted a chuckle. Mimi was incredibly sexy, she had the body of a Greek goddess, but he’d slept with her enough times. This trip was for new blood. This hotel room was not meant for girls he could get anytime any day. And he could get Mimi anytime he wanted. She’d flown to Cali a few times just because he asked. This was not Mimi’s night.

“I’ve been on a plane for hours. I just want to take a shower, and then sleep a bit, get myself all ready for tonight. I’ll tell the boys, we’ll head to Lavish okay?”

“You better! I’ve missed you. I hope I see you later. Maybe spend the night after the club?”

He rolled his eyes, “Hey who knows? I’ll call you later okay?”

He hung up before she could say another word. There was one girl, Amma, he’d been dying to hook up with for a while, but the time never seemed right. She sent him a Facebook request a couple of months ago. He’d seen her a few times before, at parties, but they’d never spoken. When he and the boys started planning the trip, he sent her a message, told her he was heading her way. She said she’d love to meet up, hang out. Their messages were suggestive but no one said anything outright. She wanted him, he knew that, and he wanted her. She was crazy sexy, with long natural hair that he’d been thinking about for days. If anyone was going to get his mind off Kris, it was going to be Amma. He picked up his cell phone, found her number and dialed.


“Oh my God! I’ve missed you so much!”

Kris squealed as she threw her arms around her older cousin. Ekow laughed and hugged her back.

“So your boy Josh is apparently in town,” Ekow said as he threw her bags into the trunk.

Kris froze. What? Josh was in DC? His status hadn’t said anything about a DC trip, but in any case, neither had hers.

“Are you serious? How do you know?”

“One of my roommates is friends with his roommate. They’re heading to Lavish tonight.”

She didn’t say a word. Josh was in town. What were the odds! And then she freaked out. She had nothing to wear. She glanced at her watch. It was 8pm!

“Ekow, can you drop me off at the mall and pick me up later?”

He laughed and shrugged, “Sure.”

Kris closed her eyes, gosh, this had to mean something!


Josh lay on his side and stared at Amma’s naked body. He didn’t expect it to happen so fast. He actually thought he’d have to spend Friday night laying the groundwork and maybe reap the fruits of his labor on Saturday. But when he called her, she said she worked a block from the hotel. So she came over right after work and within minutes of walking through the door, she was all over him. But he had loved it. Kris was controlling like that too, always took charge and didn’t hesitate for a minute. Amma had hair like Kris too, long and natural, past her shoulders. He looked up and down Amma’s body, looking for similarities and differences to Kris. Kris was taller, and leaner. Amma had fuller hips, rounder behind. Kris used to be rounder too, he loved her that way. He was sure if he had her in his bed, he’d still love her new lean body. He’d love her regardless of how she looked. The words swirling in his head startled him. What was he doing? Amma was supposed to take his mind off Kris. He cursed softly under his breath and got up, pulling his shorts on as he made his way to the bathroom.

He stood in front of the mirror and mentally berated himself. Get over it! She’s over you! After everything, there is no way she could ever love you again. He washed his face, hoping to wash away the image of Kris burned into his brain. After a short while he left the bathroom. Amma was already dressed. He was grateful for that. He didn’t have the mental will to go another round.

“So are you heading out tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re going to some club called H2O,” he lied.

He didn’t want Amma at Lavish. Mimi was going to be there and maybe he’d come back with Mimi.

“Cool, love that club. Maybe I’ll see you there later then.”

Josh sat on the tousled bed after she left and buried his face in his hands. He was such a mess.


Kris got to the club really late. She’d spent two hours at the mall looking for the perfect outfit. And then she spent a good two hours trying on different stuff. Finally she settled on something she felt looked good, a Keri Hilson type outfit, a cut up tee over a black tight bustier and tight ankle cropped jeans with heels.

By the time she got to the club it was past 1am and she was a nervous wreck. This was Josh! Josh was done with her. What was she doing? He was probably involved with someone, that someone his Facebook status changes indicated he was missing every now and then. What if he came to meet a girl or came with a girl? She went into scan mode when she entered the club. Ekow’s roommate had confirmed he was there, so where was he?


When Josh entered the club, he was glad to see Mimi. She looked incredible. It blew his mind a little. He had gotten used to Mimi looking good, but she had gone the extra mile tonight, for his sake, he was sure. Her ample cleavage was imprisoned behind an incredibly tight strapless short dress. He wanted to rip her dress off, give her body room to breathe. The thought made him laugh as he hugged her tight.

“Can you breathe?” he asked her, staring straight at her bust. She smiled, her practiced coy smile.
“I’m good, you should be asking yourself, seems you’re having a little reaction.”
He chuckled, yeah he was. Usually he hated public displays of affection, especially with someone who wasn’t his girlfriend, but when Mimi kissed him, he let it happen. They kissed for ages. He didn’t even know why he let it happen. There would be talk the next day, it would make a dent to his ‘low key’ reputation and track record. Nothing was ever really a secret in the Ghanaian community. Amma would probably find out. Someone could be taking pictures right now. That thought made him pull back, and his eyes immediately scanned the room, and that’s when he saw her.

Kris was at the far corner of the club when she finally saw him, and she was glad for the space between them. He was kissing a busty Jennifer Hudson lookalike at the far end. The girl was clinging to him for dear life and his hands were sliding up and down her back. Kris felt her chest tighten as she struggled to breathe. She deserved this, she completely deserved this. And then he looked up, and his eyes fell on her. She looked away immediately, and turned to her cousin and his crew. Screw him! What was she thinking? What did she expect? She was so stupid! She disappeared through the crowd, searching for the bathroom hoping he wasn’t looking at her.

Josh was startled. What was she doing here? She was supposed to be in London. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Mimi reached for him and he pulled back, looking dazed and confused. He heard Mimi say something but he wasn’t sure what. He spun around, searching for Kris in the crowd but he couldn’t find her. Did she leave? This was so wrong. Why tonight? Why this moment? He extricated himself from Mimi’s unyielding embrace and walked through the crowd, looking for her. Why was he even looking for her? What was he going to say?

Kris sat on a bench outside the bathroom, trying hard to compose herself. She felt tears well up and she forced them back. This was not the time nor the place nor the person for tears. After half an hour, she decided to go back upstairs before her cousin got worried. Right at the top of the stairs she bumped into Josh. They stood awkwardly looking at each other.

“Hey,” she said, softly.

Gosh he looked so handsome.

“Hi, what’s up?” he said with an even lower voice than hers.

She looked stunning. That face!

“This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. Holiday, work, moving?” he asked, shifting a little to let people pass.

Someone bumped Kris from behind and she leaned into him. He smelt so good! Josh wanted to reach out and touch her hair when she got closer to him. She smelt so fresh, so sweet, so real. His heart beat faster as he gazed into her eyes.

“I came here for work. We have an offsite on Monday and Tuesday. I just wanted to fly in early and chill a little bit.”

Kris wanted to say she’d missed him, wanted to say she was happy to see him. She wanted to kiss him. Josh wondered if he should say something about Mimi, say she was just a friend. Standing so close to Kris, he wanted to reach out and kiss her, but after what she’d witnessed earlier, she’d probably slap him. And who knows, maybe she was attached; maybe there was a man here.

“That’s cool. It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you in forever. You look good,” he said.

You look amazing, love the top, he really wanted to say. Kris smiled up at him, her tall beautiful ex-boyfriend. Their eyes locked into each other for a minute and neither of them looked away. This was it, she thought. Josh felt his breath catch in his throat. I have to kiss her now!

“Josh? Josh? Hey, I thought you were going to be at H2O.”

Josh jerked back at the sound of Amma’s voice. What the heck was this? This couldn’t be happening.

“Hey, Amma, can you please give me a minute?”

Amma finally looked at Kris, and she raised an eyebrow and turned her gaze back to Josh. Kris chuckled, this was silly and juvenile.

“I’ll talk to you later, Josh.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away through the crowd. Why was she still pining for him? He was obviously still a playboy, and she didn’t have the time for that. Josh watched Kris walk away. H knew the situation wasn’t the best, understood if she was upset, but a little patience would have been nice. He hadn’t seen her in years. What was her problem?

“I’m going home, Ekow. I’ll take a cab. I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Kris said to her cousin.

Ekow looked at her quietly and hugged her.

“Call me as soon as you get home, okay? Love you.”

She hugged him back and then walked out. As soon as she got in the cab, she started crying hard. She needed to get over this boy. She needed to! She curled up and cried till her head hurt. Why did she love him so much? She hated him, hated him for making her feel like this. She never wanted to see him again. She was done. This was it. Josh was out, out her life, out her heart, just out!


Josh leaned against the bar and stared blankly at the crowd. Kris was gone. He knew the way he felt wasn’t just because of Facebook or some pictures. He still had feelings for her. Maybe he’d never gotten over her. He was sad, and disappointed, everything had gone bad tonight. But it was over. She’d left, and that was it. He needed to get over this for good. She had a life in London, probably had someone important there. What was he doing, thinking about her like this? He was young, he would be fine. He felt a stupid tear fall from his eye and he clenched his eyes. That was going to be the last sign of emotion. He’d gotten over her before. He’d get over her again, for good.

“Hey, wanna dance?”

He looked at Amma for a long moment and then he took her hand and followed her onto the dance floor.

Unspoken Words was written by Boakyewaa Glover.

Copyright Boakyewaa Glover 2009.

Boakyewaa Glover is a Ghanaian born Organizational Psychologist living and working as a Consultant in Atlanta, USA.

Boakyewaa started writing at a very early age. From when she was six years old, she spent most of her time writing stories on any available piece of paper. Her grandfather owned a computer paper manufacturing company that produced rolls of computer print out paper. Boakyewaa wrote endlessly on every available roll and she kept a collection of short stories.

At the age of 12, Boakyewaa wrote a Christian play for Scripture Union Ghana and was awarded with a plaque for the play at her school’s Speech and Prize Giving Day. A few months later, Boakyewaa wrote two poems for her school’s participation in an Annual Cultural Contest. She and her older brother Kofi performed the poems and one of the poems placed third at the contest.

Boakyewaa wrote her first complete novel, BASIC REALITY, her first year at Wesley Girls’ High School. BASIC REALITY is a dramatic young adult book about twin sisters, who find their friendships, loves and bond as sisters threatened and changed over one summer. Through out secondary school she was an active member of several clubs, including the Writers and Debaters Club (WDC), the Drama Club and the Social Club. By her third year, she was the President of the WDC, Vice President of the Drama Club and Secretary of the Social Club. She wrote, co-directed and acted in a number of plays for both the WDC and Drama Club.

In her final year, she also wrote a poem to celebrate the accomplishment of Wesley Girls’ High School’s longest serving Headmistress. The Headmistress, Mrs. Acheampong, presented Boakyewaa with a plaque for her accomplishments.

After Wesley Girls’ High School, Boakyewaa wrote her second complete novel, TENDAI. Her first foray into one of her favorite genres, science fiction, TENDAI explores the repercussions of a biogenetic experiment gone wrong, when science is unwittingly pitted against Africa’s oldest and most powerful crafts, black magic.
During this time, Boakyewaa also continued to explore her interest in public speaking and presenting. She worked as a TV Presenter/Journalist for Metro Tv’s hit show, Smash TV. Smash TV, was and still is after 10 years, one of Ghana’s most popular entertainment shows. Boakyewaa was on the show for three years, co-presenting with former Groove FM presenter Vladimir Nettey and Eddy Blay, currently with Peer Pressure.

During her undergrad years at the University of Ghana, Boakyewaa was the lead writer for GTV’s children show ‘S-Class’. She wrote 10 episodes before the show was canceled. After graduating from the University, she expanded her media role by joining TV3, one of Ghana’s largest and popular television networks as a Newscaster/Broadcast Journalist. Boakyewaa was a familiar face on TV3 for two years before leaving to pursue a graduate degree in Psychology at NYU.
Boakyewaa has never ceased writing and has a collection of short stories, poems and novels. CIRCLES is Boakyewaa Glover’s latest project due for release September 2009.