Posted in Fiction


This has crossed my mind a number of times since I started walking out onto the streets on my own. Just that it didn’t come to me more lively like it did yesterday. From the time I took to the roadside when I was a kid, playing with friends along the streets and spending my nights at the lorry park, I have always thought, fantasised and imagined all the sort of things I will do if this hope of mine materialised. These past few days, indeed came to me as a blow out of nowhere to ginger me to rekindle that thought that has sunk so deep into my mind. And behold it has given me new HOPES and actually intensified my desires to accomplish what I have always wanted.

Yesterday as usual, I had to go by foot to the neighborhood taxi rank to get a car to work after a very great ‘downpour’:that unwelcomed visitor which overstayed its permit throughout  the night and this morning as well when everyone was on the move. Workers, students and all people alike prayed that the rain would stop so that they could start the week well, and make it to work or school hussle-free. Unfortunately, the rain did not share the same sentiments at all as all these people, and extended the duration of its visit.

It was 7:48am exactly when the rain decided to depart from us and gave back to us our day, kissed by the bright rays of the sun. The taxi rank was populated by the time I got there, so I decided to stroll along looking forward to getting a trotro. Given the present circumstances, it was not uncommon for one to make it to work without any struggle since all our roads are in a very good shape – OMG! did I say good shape? No no no I meant roads full of  ‘manholes’ beautifully flanked by choked gutters.

Gradually, I started increasing my pace because it dawned on me that I may not get to work early if I wanted to wait for a car. All the ‘troskies’ passing by were either full or they were not going my direction. About twenty minutes went pass and there was no hope of me getting a car. I had to walk briskly now because I was late for work already. Taxis, trotro, school buses and private cars alike  all sped  passed me as if I had been left behind after the rupture. 

With all these potholes, on the roads, I had to jump for my life any time a car passed by in order to save my white uniform. I couldn’t afford to dirty my uniform on a Monday morning. I did my best to dodge splashed waters that each passing car which fell into a pothole made( as a way of telling me to stop being a miser – but was it my fault? You and I know how ‘better’ the economy is in this country). 

Unfortunately for me, a few steps away to my workplace, just when I was crossing the road, hmm! this TROTRO DRIVER who out of experience was able to swerve a very deep pothole that he had spotted before him, took a turn in my direction right after recovery from the impact of the ‘pothole-escape-adventure’. “Ooooooooohhhhhh nooooooooo! I can’t believe this”, those were my exact words. The driver who had not even a scintilla of guilt for painting my white uniform all brown as if he was a nursery student who had been instructed to paint a picture in his book and kept on painting with his hands pressing very hard on the crayon, sped off without even uttering an am sorry note as the norm has been.

What could I have done? I had come so close to my workplace but I couldn’t work in a white-turned-brown uniform on a day like this just as a new week had begun. If I tried, I am much aware that I would be asked to turn in my resignation letter by noon. On checking my time, a new idea drove it way into my mind – guess what?

 Thank God, I now have an excuse for being late, an acceptable one for that matter because my boss doesn’t accept rains as an excuse for lateness, but now it was not just the rains, I needed a change of uniform. I rushed back home to change and came back quickly, since most people had already left for their respective workplaces, I got a taxi this time around.

Pondering over what a mess I had gone through yesterday, had kept me thinking, I should say rethinking rather because this is one thought I have had for quite a long time now and it recurred any time it rained and cars passed me by. Only that this time it filled me with passion and I was eager and ready to do anything fair or foul to have it. All I wanted was to get my own car so that drivers would stop splashing water over me just like what happened yesterday as if they always wanted me to know what a failure in life I had become. I said to myself that I shall surely get one of these cars and shame all those clouds of witnesses who treated me as such.

But the irony of this thought is that I can’t even afford the tire of a car, and even if God gave me a car out of no where, I couldn’t afford a driver’s licence nor fuel to run the car. Being a window washer for my company, I live from hand to mouth, wearing the same shoes and uniform since I got this job which were even given to me on loan by my company. A three square meal is even difficult to get sometimes.

All the same, I thank God and that driver for giving me new HOPES and intensifying my desires for something that I cannot even buy with my whole life’s salary as a window washer. Maybe I have to reshape my life now!!! One day, I know I shall ride in one of the luxurious cars and live a life comfortable enough to be happy about. 




2016 © SnavewritesGroup 

Posted in Uncategorized


Even though I was a bit shameful to have learnt that all the men turned cowards at the time, I took pride in the fact that she, Obaahemaa Yaa Asantewaa, the queen mother of Ejisu, was a daughter of the Warrior King.

Both the old and young sacrificed the gift of life and all that life had to offer them someday, not because they wanted to, but they had to.
I believe some sons and daughters of the Warrior King snivelled and grumbled when they craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the shadow of their calling. But the thought of peace, hope, freedom and justice for the future generation comforted their hearts.
Men have worked hard, draining every well of strength in their hearts into watering the seeds of peace, hope and love buried in this land, the land of the Warrior King, and died giving their all.
I have been searching and I am still searching, but I have not yet found that single word to describe these men. Men, who with a willing mind and a perfect heart toiled, and sacrificed their comfort not for what they saw then, but for what they foresaw.
I salute them.

But today, as I pen down these thoughts, my eyes are swallowed up in tears. I do not seem to fathom why the people of this land are still marking time even though the baton lies in our hands.
Where is the King’s Heart?. Our forefathers toiled and fought through oppression, and now, we hold the baton, and it is our turn to venture into true freedom.
But it is unfortunate that we are still victims of oppression, even when we are no longer in the oppressor’s chains.
We keep washing our feet at the shores of the sea of the land of freedom, and think that we are already free.
Meanwhile we, as a people, are still slave to the desires of our selfishness and greed. And we wallow in the quagmire of hopelessness and perverseness.
Today more than ever we need to find the King’s Heart, and nurture within ourselves the treasures of altruism, integrity, true freedom and justice that lies in its chambers.
Our cry has been for change. We indeed need change, but not just any kind of change.
We need a change that binds us together as one people. A change that ignites our sense of responsibility for our own lives and destiny as one people.

A change that commits not just some individual, but all of us to trueness and virtue.
We need a change of spirit and heart.

We need a change of attitude and mind.

The generations of tomorrow are looking up to us, to inherit from us the fruits of the seeds we inherited from our forefathers, not the same old seeds.

Posted by: Reagan Oppong

 B.Sc Biomedical Science, UCC


© SnavewritesGroup 2016

Posted in Religious


I remember vividly what happened that day back in SHS when the pastor  preached on a sermon entitled “the excursion”- talking about what happens in the morgue, how helpless we become when we can no longer breath and when we await that great day of judgment. After that day,  the whole campus became as quiet as the cemetery. There was an altar call and the number of students who turned  up to give their lives to Jesus was just huge as if there have never been an altar call before. I wondered where all those people were during  the last four services since all four preachers had similar altar calls with not more than four people turning up per service. 

Within the first week after that sermon,  the auditorium was always full to the brim during any of the so many Christian gatherings.  Two weeks after,  it all started to fade away as the school  started crawling  back to its normal states with some students running  to hide in classrooms  and dormitories as well during  church service, and some others roaming around  the auditorium  as if they had no idea what was going on in there. Gradually the place which once looked like a cemetery came lively again with all sort of noises and aggressiveness from students.  What just happened, I had wondered. All of a certain the crowd have forgotten about the salvation message and they were back to the world. So I asked myself: “Did they really accept Jesus because  they understood why they should  accept him or out of fear that they may die unsaved and go to hell?” I hope your guess is as right as mine. 

Not only did I observe this in the school  but rather anytime the message of death and hell is preached,  people turn over their whole lives and begin to live the Holy life that they never thought they could live. But what baffles me anytime  I think  about this is why this change of state of life doesn’t  last long. 

A few weeks in the hospital has thought me another practice  that confirms the fact that people run to God usually when they are scared to death. Walk into any ward in the hospital and you observe this common practice. I know you can confirm this, that the most common book that you see in the hospital wards is the Bible. Almost  every patient has a Bible  by his/her bedside. Even the blind and the illiterate alike have a Bible by their bedside. It is a very common practice  to find the literate  among them reading the Bible day and night. 

Must we wait till we are faced with death to start reading our Bibles? Why can’t we live that Holy life that has become intermittent in our lives? Heaven and earth  are real, so the sooner  we plan where to spend eternity, the better for us all. Lord open our eyes to see the truth and run only after the truth that we may get to you when you  come for us. 

Posted in Social issues


Dear future me,
It is a great pleasure to get an opportunity like this to speak to you before I finally become you. Curiosity may have indeed killed the cat but I plead with it to spare me in my anxiety to know you even before the time is due. Why won’t I be curious even Google, the greatest search engine in the world cannot tell me how you look like – who I will become. 

How I wish you would introduce yourself to me now for me to know what I will look like some years to come. The paramount reason for being so curious to know about you is to find out if you are living a worthy life, one which millions do envy or that I may know if it is anything less than what I expect so that I can retrace your tracks now and ensure that I do not eventually become less worthy than I desire.

This few days of my life have been very hectic and how I wish that the consolation that I give myself (that you are proud of what I am doing) holds true otherwise I may never forgive myself when I become you. How I wish you could respond to this and tell me to either continue or show me a path that will lead me to easily become you. Why do you stay there and watch me without offering any help,  laughing at my mistakes? What counsels do you have for me? The obstacles are just too much that at most times I feel I might not be up to the task and hence want to quit. I am always worried because I do not want to betray you. If I do quit now then you will never get to exist.

When I look into the mirror, I see myself in you and I believe that you are living a good life. The fierce fire in your eyes stirs me up. My parents told me that the only thing that could make you proud of me was to go to school and finish with good grades. But if that is the only condition then I guess you are already proud of me. Come to think of it, must I suffer all these hardships so that you may enjoy yourself? Is it worth my efforts? As young as I am, why do you want me to suffer like this? Why don’t you let me enjoy myself as a child so that the struggle will be left to you since you will be matured enough to face all the challenges.

However, I have decided to continue in hard work and work tirelessly to ensure that you get the life that you deserve. This decision was not born out of nowhere. When I look at some old men who have become drunkards or smokers lying by the road side perishing every now and then, my heart is filled with pity that you may end up like that if I don’t make the right choices. This is not the only motivating factor, there are many more others which inspires me and gingers me to take the bold steps that I am afraid of. When I see those rich men in their big cars, flaunting their money about and living in luxurious apartments, I can not help than to wish same for you. Though I walk barefooted now to school, I prefer that you drive in a range rover to work instead and though I wear tattered clothing now, I wish you to always be neatly dressed in your shirts well tucked in, with your nice suits and tie just like the people I see in the bank whenever I pass by to the refuse dump.

All these that I want for you comes with a price which I solely have to pay for. I am trusting you to be that man that I want and not let my efforts go in vain. During school days, I can sit for over 8 hours learning with one thing in mind – that you may become someone great, someone who owns a multi billion dollar conglomerates and helping the citizens of my dear country by providing them with jobs. I don’t want to join the many who are holding up the governments’ throats to provide them with jobs. Indeed the vision is for an appointed time and it is up to you to make it materialise. I learnt that you need lots of connection to survive your age so I am doing everything possible within my own capacity to make enough friends. Sometimes people say am too open but I know it is for a good course – that you may be able to help the many people who require help of you and that you may get help any time you need one.

Apparently, you require many things from me which I have already given my heart to, ensuring that you always stay a winner. But this is what I require of you: do not use the money I suffer for on drinks or girls who have nothing to look up to. Rather make a choice among all those beautiful ladies I present to you as friends. Make your choice not only based on outward beauty but beauty coupled with good behaviour and morals. Build companies, offer homes to the homeless, and help to the helpless. Be a father to the fatherless and I will also be proud of you wherever I am.

Finally I have one request of you and that is, you constantly pray for me to make the right decisions because every thing I do or I don’t do now will determine what you become. Always be mindful that your fate lies in my hands now. Thank you and see you in the future.

Kind regards,

‘U’ in 2016.

“If you can imagine it, you can achieve it”

Posted by: Ehoneah Obed

Pharm D, KNUST

© SnavewritesGroup 2016

Posted in Social issues


Growing up as a child, I had the best time of life. I remember vividly way back in the village when the moon decked it smiling rays onto the entire village. We gathered and played games like “pepeenaa” “ampe” “grass cutter hunting” “wrestling” etc. Story telling was never left out as we were told stories of almost all the animals in the forest.

The boys tied cloths to their necks which often times smelled urine. We enjoyed “Maame ne papa” which they now call “Bie gya”.  We were never bothered but enjoyed a gathering which depicted the holistic meaning of love and togetherness.
Our childhood time was the best; we had the best of time indeed. In our time, whenever we were sent on errands we ran like horses. We had our own cars that we pulled from behind and we ran faster than the cars. Plantain leaves were used as umbrellas. Fishes could swim from the river to our homes.

We watched Maradona, Azumah Nelson and Mohammend Ali with glee.  Judas, Bob Okala and Santo never ceased to dazzle us with naturally gifted comedy. The only two televisions in the village were powered by car batteries and we watched ‘power rangers’, ‘a journey to the west’ and ‘Konan the destroyer’. We walked to school barefooted with roasted yams in our pockets and we were never discouraged. We had no google or internet yet we learned and passed our exams with distinction.
It was in our time that when we closed from church, we watched Cantata and sung:

We are going

Heaven knows where we are going

We know we will!
We will get there, heaven knows how we will get there, and we know we will!
We listened to great songs of inspiration from Citi Boys, Osibisa, Dr. Paabobo, A.B Crenstil, Nana Ampedu etc.
Gradually, we grew up into a new era where children have what is called human rights. They have no respect for the elderly ones.  They don’t come together to play anymore but only meet on phones where they often insult and spread falsehood about one another.

They spend most of their time in the classroom but yet they become unemployed.  They crazily dress and expose their bodies and call it fashion. Profane and meaningless songs are their favorite songs. As I sat down and thought about all these, I sighed and told myself, “Our time was the best”.
“We are not children of a lesser god”

 Posted by:

Ntenhene Felix 

© snavewritesGroup 2016