Announcing a Week of ‘MOMvertising’ Here on M.O.M!

On early Monday morning, a member of the Plett health and wellness community published a request for bloggers to bid on a writing position he had available for his organization. The opportunity to write for a genre I’d never focused on before – drug rehabilitation – intrigued me. Unfortunately, I was thinking (and quoting) in terms of dollars and summarily out priced myself from the running. But that’s okay. I think my loss was to someone else’s gain…specifically to the gain of the five companies I’ll be featuring on Mind of Malaka in the coming days.

In submitting my bid, I did a quick Google search for my name and up popped several links to articles I’ve written for various media outlets and blogs. I have fixtures on plots of e-real estate all over the place! I believe this somewhat pervasive (and positive, for the most part) online presence is what piqued the seeker’s interest in my skill set. I was able to point to numerous examples of my work and demonstrate value. There can be no denying that in this digital age, online penetration is its own form currency. I didn’t get the job, but what if I could use my blog – my OWN e-real estate – to give other people the kind of boost I’ve worked to procure over the years? So that’s what I did.

I woke in the early hours of the morning the next day and tweeted to my followers, asking them to send me a synopsis of their projects, passions and/or products. I would promote them here on the site. Mind of Malaka has a strong and loyal reading, and I know that this community doesn’t exist to boost my ego alone. I truly believe God and Google have allowed this space to grow for the purposes of giving back in some way. I try to use my blog to do social good whenever the opportunity presents itself, and now WE – as a community – have the chance to use it to provide an economic edge for entrepreneurs coming off the starting block.

Advertising is expensive. Exposure doesn’t come cheap. And in this age of aggressive capitalism and quid pro quo, it appears that everyone is looking for what they can get out of the most mundane interaction…some sort of return on investment. While M.O.M. isn’t Marie Claire or Humans of New York (Brandon has singlehandedly driven record sales for dozens of small business owners via his blog), I would humbly like to offer this space in a broader effort to provide publicity for these passionate men and women you will see starting next week.

Image Credit:

Image Credit:

I wanted to give the venture a catchy name… like Pimp Your Product™ …but then that brought to mind all sorts of unsavory images. MOMverstising was the next, safest thing. It’s okay. You can laugh.🙂

Are you excited? I am too! As these entrepreneurs and creative are featured, I’d beg you to share their profiles on your personal social media platforms. You never know if someone is looking for just the thing they have to offer. Plus, with the holidays and Libra season upon us, you may be the conduit for a fabulous the gift idea or your new favorite brand. We’ll all find out together come Monday!



How Do White Men Feel When White Women Pass Them Over For Black Men?

I like to imagine the guys over at Men’s Health/GQ/Esquire/Popular White Male magazine tossing around a mini foam football to each other as they pitch ideas for an upcoming issue.

“How about testicular cancer?”

“Nah. We did that last issue. Exposés on cancer cycle every 4 months. Don’t want to alarm the readership.”


“Five foods to feed your muscles?”

“Nice play with alliteration, Josh, but we’re looking for something edgy…something we’ve never done before.”

A shadowy figure emerges from the back of the room. The Ping-Pong table once occupied that space, before it was unceremoniously replaced with the communal keg following HR’s approval, of course. It was Ryan. Ryan was a rogue…and one of the most respected minds at Pop White Male Mag. He’d clearly been guzzling from the keg.

“What if…and this is crazy, but hear me out… What if we did a story about how rejected white men feel whenever we see a white chick dating or married to a Black guy.”

Gasps erupt all over the room.

“Ohmigod. Like, we could talk about how Black Dude probably has this enormous cock.”

“Or how he shoots a basketball really good!”

“Dude! Or how he’s probably amazing in bed…!”

“Thanks, Will. I think we covered that already.”

Photo credit: major league dating

I’m just going to sit here by this still water and contemplate my abysmal life because white women keep leaving me for Black men! Photo credit: major league dating

Soon the room is buzzing with chatter and ideas about all the reasons why white men would suffer from apoplectic feelings of rejection just knowing that there was a white woman – famous or not – who’d chosen to wed herself to a Black guy.

“Guys, guys. We can take this even further. What if we had a double feature and talk about how white-on-white crime is destroying the white community?”

More gasps.

“Jeeezus! That’s brilliant!”

“All those meth moms neglecting their kids…”

“And the baskets of deplorables who rape their step kids…”

“Or traffic little blond girls during football season…”

“Ohio would be a GREAT place to gather special interest stories on white-on-white crime…”

“All we have to do is pitch it to the guys upstairs.”

A hush falls over the room.

“They’ll never go for it.”

“I know. MAN! It would’ve been such a good feature. It’s not fair! All the Black magazines get to do it.”

“Right. But that’s because we don’t have to portray the same image they. We’re heterosexual WASP men…we have a different standard, y’know?”

“Can’t be seen rolling around in the gutter, fishing for ideas…”

“So! Five Foods to Feed Your Muscles it is?”

Everyone agrees and gets to work.




Can I tell you how desperately I wish the men and women who run these “progressive & enlightened” Black blogs, online forums and infotainment spaces would come to the same conclusions about interracial dating, particularly where the feelings of Black women are concerned? Because it really is akin to lobster diving in the gutter for story ideas. Just like there are no edible lobsters in a sewer near you, there is no story about Black women and feeling some kind of way about Black men who have “passed us over”.

I honestly don’t think we’ve cared as a group since Waiting to Exhale.

Nevertheless, in the previous 24 hours alone, I’ve seen two articles about successful Black men who have chosen to marry white women (Damon Dash and Luke Cage’s Mike Colter). Both articles relied on old tropes to advance the idea that there are hoards of bitter Black women who stew at home in rollers and satin caps, furious that aforementioned famous Black Man had the gall not to choose a woman that looked like them. This woman does not exist, or rather; she does not represent the majority of Black women’s feelings on the matter. The average Black woman doesn’t care who you date/procreate with. You know why? Because most of us – the vast majority of us – understand that most of these men exist in realms outside of our daily existence. Our chances of interacting are slim to nil. Secondly, a Black man’s choice to date outside of the race isn’t a personal slight or a rejection. That choice only translates into rejection when Black men actively do things like this:


(You can peruse the rest of Vibe’s tawdry list on here

You know what? If I was a white woman reading this I’d be offended beyond belief. This is ignorant trash, feeding on equally tired ideas about white female fragility and subservience. I’m here to tell you that a white woman will absolutely destroy your world and set your body on fire if you cross her.

As for Black women?

We don’t care, we don’t care, WE DON’T CARE if Black men prefer white women. All that we ask is that you not disparage us in the process of exercising your right to choose your companion. I don’t know of any other race that so proudly speaks ill of their women for teehee’s and retweets or a cheap coin or two. You can legitimately talk about an appreciation for Kate Upton’s wavy hair without expressing a disdain for Janelle Monae’s luscious locks. If you happen to prefer Gwyneth Kate Paltrow’s flat bottom over Serena William’s plump rump, so be it! Both are beautiful in their own right. Black women honestly don’t care. What’s hurtful is when you feel a need to insult us, our features, our experiences, our existence itself to justify your dating preferences. If we’re “angry, bitter and mouthy”, it’s because we constantly have to defend ourselves from a verbal onslaught.

Lots of successful (and just as many futureless) Black men are married to white women. However, many more men who pursue marriage are married to Black women.

Overall, statistics show that the percentage of Black women getting married is actually on the rise. The U.S. Census Bureau is also shutting down rumors that Black men are not marrying Black women. Nearly 90 percent of Black men had Black wives in 2010, compared to only 9 percent that were married to white women.

The entertainment and sports industries are not reflective of reality. A Black man like Kanye needs to live in the Kardashian’s parallel universe, because he’s not equipped to deal with the realities that most Black people have to deal with. So yes, in that sense, he was very fortunate that Kim passed over a legion of white men to marry him.

But then that brings me to my original point. Why has no publication ever dedicated as much time to investigating how white men feel about being overlooked in favor of Black men? Are they not a part of this equation too, or are hurt feelings the domain of Black women alone? I mean, I know why this question has never been asked, just as well as you do. The perception is that white men are paragons of virtue and gallantry. He is Hercules; Socrates; Caesar. Even his faults provide models for instruction, which is why men like Bill O’Reilly and Donald Trump can maintain positions of power. Redemption is for white men. If a white woman would pass all of that over in pursuit of a Black male who represents the antithesis of all these things, then she must be a defective, irredeemable model.

And this is why you will never hear the words ‘And when she get on, she’ll leave you’re a** for a black boy’ written into a Top 40 song anywhere, any time, in the history of anything. Because power dynamics.

In conclusion, I would like to speak on behalf of the Black Women’s Delegation and assure we are not jealous and we don’t care. We care about rent. We care about getting the A/C fixed before next summer. We’re focused on making sure our sons and daughters live to a ripe old age and survive this here police state. All these imputed hurt feelings about being ‘passed over’ for white women is nothing more than white noise.


Any white guys reading this today? How do you feel when you see white women with Black men? Does it hurt? Do you feel rejected? Do white women make you feel inferior/inadequate for not having coarse, curly hair or jet black skin? I’m here to listen…

Ghoulishness on the Garden Route

It’s easy to get caught up in the splendor and beauty of South Africa’s Garden Route along the N2. This is wine country. The fields are lush and green, the earth bountiful. And yet despite all the plenty that surrounds and inundates us, there is intense poverty everywhere you look. People lack jobs, but more to the point they lack skilled labor. The Garden Route is the perfect depiction for Miles Monroe’s definition of poverty: Being in possession of resources and yet lacking the skills or knowledge to convert them into wealth.


Poverty along the Garden Route is just one of the many things that saddens me about what really ought to be a paradise and a safe haven. I am convinced that there is no reason anyone should live in fear or want in an area that offers so much pleasantness to the senses and the soul. And yet it is the nature of man to foul even then most exquisite of God’s creations in the name of domination… as a celestial birthright afforded to him for the sake of his maleness alone.  Why else would someone have raped and murdered Jelica* on Sunday night?

It’s tempting to blame poverty for the demise of this 27-year-old township beauty, but we know from the headlines that wealthy white men rape, molest and rob people every day. The only difference being that it’s deemed a “temporary lapse in judgment” or “white collar crime”. Criminal behavior is not a consequence of socioeconomic class. One’s environment does not determine one’s predisposition for criminal activity. Your character does. Defenders of the man who committed this heinous crime and is yet to be apprehended will certainly try to use his circumstances and environment as an excuse for his actions. These suppositions must be rejected soundly.

So what happened?

On Monday morning I set off to Kurland village to pick up our housekeeper. As I pulled into the township around 8:30, I saw a crowd of people milling around a stretch of road called “Animal Alley”, named so for the number of animal sanctuaries concentrated in the area. All up and down the road, people stood in clusters engaged in private conversations. The women looked particularly upset. There’s always something going on in The Crags. Just last week a woman was sitting on the side of road in the rain, so completely drunk that it didn’t occur to her to seek shelter. A patron at the same tavern she had left earlier got into his car and ran over her. Twice. I figured something had happened to cause the townspeople to gather so early, but nothing had prepared me for this.

Jelica’s mother passed away two years ago, and since then she’d been responsible for her own upkeep. Jobs are few and far between in this area, and I have no idea what she had to do to survive. Folk can live in their parents’ house well into their 30’s. The little I’ve uncovered about Jelica is that she was gorgeous, that she had many “boyfriends” and that her death was absolutely gruesome. Following her rape, her private parts were chopped off of her body, ostensibly in an attempt to conceal the identity of her attacker(s).

There are some who have tried to assign blame for Jelica’s death on Jelica herself. Because she did not belong to any one man, and had the audacity to formulate relationships with several men – whether romantically or not – she was therefore responsible for her rape and mutilation. It’s a popular (and stupid) idea that is not peculiar to this part of the world. From New York to Kwa-Zulu Natal, there will be both men and women who espouse these beliefs. The fact is, the other person responsible for Jelica’s death is her murderer.

The circumstances and the methodical execution of Jelica was eerily similar to LaVena Johnson. Johnson, some of you may recall, was a solider who had enlisted in the US army in 2003. Her body was found with a broken nose, loose teeth and acid poured on her genitals. She was raped and murdered by her comrades. The army ruled her death a suicide.

Like LaVena, I highly doubt that her attacker(s) will be brought to book. With so much damage done to Jelica’s body, there is little hope that there is enough evidence to lead to an arrest. Unless someone saw or heard something, her assailant is still on the loose, and that is not a comforting thought for anyone on the Garden Route. For all we know, there is a serial killer on the loose. That this brutal attack took place in an area called Animal Alley in not an irony that is lost on me.

As the holidays draw near, it is sobering to hear that more of these stories will become more frequent. December brings warm weather to Plett, but it also brings rape, robbery and death. It’s the dark side of paradise.

I Watched the Clinton/Trump Debate With My Kid and It Was EPIC

I can't believe someone was thinking EXACTLY what I was thinking! I literally just chanced upon this image! Source:

I can’t believe someone was thinking EXACTLY what I was thinking! I literally just chanced upon this image! Source:

Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump faced each other in their first public debate vying for the position of ruler or the Seven Kingdoms where one of them will eventually govern from King’s Landing aka the White House. Seriously, if there was ever a better metaphor for Game of Thrones, it was the mess that unfolded before us on Monday night. There was Clinton – blond, cold and calculating as Khaleesi Daeneryys Targaryen herself, and Trump who couldn’t decide whether to channel Joffery Baratheon or Jeff Portnoy from ‘Tropic Thunder’. I mean… both characters are white dudes with blondish hair and erratics behavior, both with names that begin with a letter“J”, so whatevs and close enough as far as Trump was concerned.

I ended up watching the debate 18 hours after it aired because I value my sleep far more than I do investing my time to two wealthy white people spout platitudes and deny their racist proclivities (one more convincingly than the other), and by this time my oldest child had gotten home from school. She flopped onto my bed and gave me a quick hug.

“Whatcha watchin’?”

“The presidential debates.”

“Oooo! Mind if I watch with you?”

“Nope. Slide on under the covers.”

And that she did. By this time, Lester Holt had welcomed the audience to the forum, informed us that Clinton had won the coin toss and assured us that both candidates had agreed to the two minute time limit allotted to answer the questions put before them. The entire world already knew that Trump had zero intentions of sticking to these rules. The man doesn’t even possess enough integrity to pay his taxes, so sticking to a two-minute monologue was a pretty big ask. I knew this, every adult reading this blog knew this, but for children watching a debate of this style for the very first time – and having the cognitive maturity to understand what was going on – watching Donald Trump flagrantly disregard these rules was shocking.

My daughter is 11 ½ and her reactions were priceless.

“Why does he keep interrupting her when she’s talking?” Nadjah asked, clearly perplexed. My explanation was not swift enough. “Oh my GOSH! Let the woman talk!”

I chuckled to myself, and then I grew pensive. This was a good learning experience. The exasperation that she felt at this moment is something she would eventually learn to cope with. As she leaves our nest and eventually enters the work place, she too will be interrupted by men, be told that her years of schooling and experience is “bad”, and held to a moral standard that some douchebag in khakis and Sperry’s has never lived up to a day in his professional or personal life.

“Mommy. Why is he sniffing life that?”

Because he’s probably on drugs, baby. 89.99% of all wealthy white men do some form of recreational drug or another.

I didn’t say this, of course. I don’t want to spoil it for her when this reality smacks her in the face when she eventually enters the political realm and begins to walk in her aspirations. And for selfish reasons, I want to hear the shock register in her voice when she calls home at 29 and informs me that virtually every dudebro in her office is on one form of an upper or another.

“Oh my GOSH. Mommy! Did you see the way he just talked to the moderator? Did you see how he just snapped on him?!?”

Yes, baby. I did. That’s called Jim Crow…when white men like Trump would call Holt ‘boy’ and berate them for looking them in the eye. That’s how white men spoke to Black men routinely up until 1982.

I didn’t say that though. I said, “Yes, Nadjah. I saw that. He sure is rude.”

“Wait…didn’t George Bush start the Iraq war? Why is he blaming Obama for that?”

“Because he’s crazy, sweetheart.”

Dude. WHAT??

Dude. WHAT??

More time passes and the train wreck is only getting more gory. Nadjah’s face is twisted and contorted with pain every time Trump claims to have a good relationship with the “Blacks… I mean African Americans”. I can’t help but laugh scornfully.

“Oh my goodness. Mommy! Did he really say all of those things about women?”

“Girl. He’s been saying horrible things about women his whole life!”

“And THAT’S why he can’t keep a wife,” she concluded, lips twisted as they dripped the bitterness of this truth.

Neither one of us is a Hillary fan, but my daughter and I have grown to respect her in the previous weeks. I could never bring myself to vote for Hillary Clinton, but the reality is that she is the only CLEAR choice for the job. Trump simply isn’t qualified to serve in the position of President of the United States of America. He’s divisive, bigoted, sexist, a cheat and once this IRS audit is concluded, may possibly be unmasked as a criminal. And I think that is why so many Ghanaian men like him.

Just as I am amused and pleased by kid reactions to the debate (It means we are finally raising a generation of civic minded youth. Too bad these two candidates form the slimy stew we’ve asked them to pick through and determine a victor from), I am equally appalled by the reactions by Ghana’s male (aspiring) elite. A large majority of them – at least online – believe that Trump not only performed well in the debate, but that he was also more “personable and likeable” than Clinton in those 90 minutes.


You truly mean to tell me that if Hillary Clinton had responded in like kind, interrupting with accusations like “Lies!”, “False!” and contemptuously addressing the moderator with, “Now wait a minute…did you ask me a question?” you would find that behavior befitting of the leader of the free world? You don’t believe Donald Trump was either articulate or likeable or even lucid in those moments. You don’t believe that for a single second. The only reason Ghanaian men (and men all over Africa caping for him right now) support Trump is because he represents the very worst of toxic male masculinity that is only tolerated because of wealth. Dassit. Trump represents the guy that the reprehensible man buried not-so-deeply in these men wish they could boldly and publicly be: the sexist, cheating, unrepentant bigot shielded by privilege and powerful connections. These are men who pay lip service to the cause of equality and justice, but given the opportunity, they’d gladly trade the beggar’s rags of goodwill for a chance at stepping on the little guy. It is the ONLY reason someone like Donald Trump would be seen as a hero on an acceptable human being. If he’s gotten this far in politics and in his business dealings, it means that they have a chance as well.

Wanlov the Kubolor said something in an interview a long time ago that has always stuck with me. Paraphrasing, he said the average Ghanaian isn’t looking for equality or justice. The average Ghanaian is just looking for his turn on top.

That’s the only motivation an African Trump supporter can have. It’s not because he’s a successful businessman (because he really isn’t) and it certainly isn’t because he holds the “conservative Christian values” the lot of you claim to hold so dear. It’s because he’s a petulant douchebag whose privilege allows him to get away with anything he wants – including robbing children and the military by refusing to pay his fair share and calling it “smart”. That’s your role model. Never mind his opinion of you as a Black immigrant is so low that he’d see you targeted and abused by law enforcement on the street and then have you deported. Noooo…as long as he keeps women in their place and games the system, he’s your guy.

To quote Esther Armah, “Thank God none of you can vote.”

But know that you’ve exposed for the Black white supremacists that you are. Seek help for your self-hatred, okay?


Do you plan on watching the next debate, or did this one turn you off? Are you a Swing Voter? Did either candidate’s performance sway you? For our part, Nadjah and I will be up and ready on October 9th for more fun and shenanigans!

Which One of You Told John Mahama This Is The Season For Halloween?

President Mahama is on the campaign trail like it’s a trick or treat track and I want to know which one of you is responsible.



I know John Dramani Mahama did not contrive with these shenanigans alone. He has co-conspirators. He has collaborators. I want you to show yourselves! I refuse to believe that the Commander in Chief has taken to shopping for his wardrobe at Party City on his own counsel. Someone else is responsible for this travesty and the nation deserves to know who it is so that they can be publicly tarred and feathered. How did your father pay school fees for 18 years for you to give a whole president of the first sub-Saharan nation to receive independence this sort of reckless sartorial advice? I say show yourselves!

Or perhaps… No. It’s too fanciful a thought. It couldn’t be. Perhaps this is a decision my Dead Goat Syndrome suffering president made himself? Perhaps he alone came to the conclusion that dressing up as an Expendables reject was the way forward to winning the hearts and minds of the people of Ghana? I wouldn’t put it past him. I mean, this is a man given to gimmicks rather than implementing real solutions. Remember when the Ministry of Trade and Industry and the Savanna Accelerated Development Authority were introducing a policy document to declare the first Friday of every month Batakari Day? And then our dear president was trotted out for the cameras in his fugu, grinning from ear to ear like the World Bank had just approved another loan? It was supposed to boost exposure and patronage of Northern culture, but it fell flat for several reasons – reasons/blunders that repetitively manifest themselves in any policy implementation (or the lack of) in Ghana.

Let’s not lose focus here.

I have my own theories about why John Mahama has been treating the campaign trail like it’s perpetually 31st October and I challenge anyone to fight me on this! I believe it all goes back to this image right here:mahama-rawlings


You see what former President Rawlings is doing here? You see his body language? You see President Mahama’s facial reactions to what is being said to him? Because pictures are worth thousands of words, I don’t even need to be privy to their conversation to know what was said. This picture is screaming all kinds of things at me, at you, at the world at large.

They call Jerry Rawlings the ‘Benevolent Dictator’, and I can just hear him – benevolently – saying the following:

Rawlings: Nigga, you know you ain’t sh*t.

Mahama: Oh. Massa. Why you for talk so?

Rawlings: See how your Team D ministers are playing you. At least Mills had a Team B string of aides, appointees and paraprofessionals. It’s like you went to the bottom of the sludge pool and found the grimiest barrel, scraped it and voila! Here’s your cabinet.

Mahama: That’s kind of unfair. Some of these people worked in your government too.

Rawlings: Yes! And I kept them in line! Look, we all did corruption…but I only let it go so far. Your guys dierrr. There’s a Ga proverb about hot needles and threads. You should look it up some time.

Mahama: Ok fine. I know what you are saying is true. But what would you have me do?

Rawlings: Look at the shirt you are wearing sef. Sitting up here like a broke down Nelson Mandela. Do you even have your own identity? You are asking me what should you do? Look at me. Look at me, John! What would *EYE* do? You know exactly what it takes…I just don’t think you have what Akyaa Nkrumah calls radical enough balls to do so.

John Mahama sits back, stewing over the quiet tongue lashing given to him by this lion in winter. He despises the erstwhile dictator for telling him the ugly truth about himself, and he knows he has to hit back in the only way he knows how, with the only tool in his arsenal. That’s right: Kumawood gimmicks to the rescue once again.

“What if,” John Mahama thought to himself, “What if I drew on inspiration from my book for this final run for the office of president? My First Coup D’état wasn’t about an actual coup, naturally. But what if I could trick everyone into thinking I had radical enough balls to start a coup if I wanted?”

And that’s how John Mahama’s tough guy persona was born.

See him here preparing to ride his motto like Chuck Norris going to dinner at the Ritz.



Then here again as Roadblock from G.I. Joe.


Dude. You couldn’t even get someone to embroider your surname onto the pocket flap?


And then if you doubted how bad he could be, here’s our incumbent president dressed up as Idi Amin.


At least Idi had balls enough to decorate himself with honors and medals he never earned in combat or for valor. There lines involving protocol and the use of military garb and Idi crossed all of them vagrantly. Mahama saw those limitations and settled on caution. Why be cautious now? You outchea looking like a sentinel from The Nutcracker. Go ahead and affix some pins to your uniform! If you gonna do it, DO IT, Mr. Mahama! I once had an acquaintance who decided to quit school and become a stripper in a local Atlanta club. She lived with her grandmother, who had no problem with that decision on one condition. She said, “If you gon’ strip, then you gon be the headliner.”

President Mahama: We’re going to need you to be the headliner if you’re going to dress up in fatigues and ceremonial uniforms from now on. Make us believe you to be the blowman you want the nation to see!

But in your quest to Tough Guy Presidency, you have not forgotten the people. You clearly want the penniless to join in the fun. Here you are, dressed up like Neo from the Matrix pretending to be a Sultan of old passing out “leaflets” to the adoring, desperate masses. See how excited they are to get ahold of those “leaflets”. Far be it from you to hand out money to citizens with no jobs, quality sanitation or public facilities.


I took personal umbrage with that assertion. Who do your detractors think you are? The Joker?


As for me, I believe you to be a hard guy paa. You came to the UN General assembly and gave a rousing speech, imploring the West not to force democracy on African nations. You asked them to give us time to develop our democracies, make our own mistakes and grow at our own pace. I understand why this was a critical point in the speech you made, because just last weekend, Fadi Dabboussi, author, journalist and NPP stalwart was arrested by the BNI for writing “unfavorable and critical things about the president” in his new book. Fadi has been denied access to his lawyers and communication with his family. It’s like we’re living in 1983 all over again. I bet your people are really proud. 80’s fashion is back…why not 80’s fascism?

source: citifm

source: citifm

Yeah… Tough guy democracy. Kw333. That’s why as for me, I will only write favorable things about the you and the NDC on this blog. I wouldn’t want to find myself in a cell playing out some scene from an African horror flick the next time I visit home.

Happy Halloween!

You Okay, Brother Paul?

Dear Brother Paul:

I am compelled to check up on you after that amazing interview with Abyna Ansaa Adjei burst through the airwaves. Not amazing as in “stellar”, mind you. More along the lines of ‘What the heck did I just watch and more importantly, WHY is this happening????’ Have you ever seen a Chinese contortionist gently force a boiled egg into the delicate, hollow space between her legs and then violently push it out, extracting it whole and undamaged from her nether regions with naught but kegel strength. Well I have, Paul, and if you’re sitting there with your jaw slacked and your brow furrowed, bewildered as you imagine an Asian woman squeezing poultry products from her vagina, then you have some sense of what most of us were feeling after the latest edition of Good Evening Ghana aired: befuddlement.

How was this allowed to happen?

I know that this conversation is between you and I, but this is the innanets and people are really nosey. Let me just pause while I give them a quick background on what has disturbed The Force so acutely.

Paul Adom Otchere is the host of Good Evening Ghana, Metro TV’s “award winning, very insightful and probing current affairs program. Featuring high profile personalities, politicians, civil servants, decision makers and all who matter in the socioeconomic growth and development of Ghana.” On Wednesday, Abyna Ansaa Adjei – author and an NPP policy advisor – was invited to give an analysis of the NDC manifesto that was launched last week. If you are not interested in Ghanaian politics, none of this is actually important. But if you are into horror shows, the exchange between Paul and Abyna will be just your cup of tea. It’s 30+ minutes of brazen lunacy, preceded by 6 zany minutes where a “prophet” screams about President John Mahama residing ‘far in the spirit’. No, really. If you enjoy carnage, you have to watch this train slowly pull out of the station of the station, quickly crash into several obstacles and then spontaneously combust without the slightest warning. You don’t need to know what’s going on here to see what’s going on here.

There was no redeeming this segment after the introduction of Ms. Ansaa Adjei.

And Paul. I mean, you tried. When you introduced Abyna, I was ready to thumb my nose at her detractors online; people like Nana Ama Agyemang Asante who said that the NPP needed to take a closer look at those whom they chose to represent them. I mean, here was a woman who as you said is the author of TEN books, was assigned to the ministry of education, served as special assistant to President Kufour and is an alumna of both the prestigious KNUST and the London School of Economics. A woman all Ghanaians should be proud of. I was already brimming with pride. You then promised we your viewers a “surgical exercise” in the analysis of the NDC manifesto.

Chale. Paul. You don’t need me to tell you that what we were treated to instead was a butchering. A graceless, convulsive, tumultuous analytical butchering. Having Abyna Ansaa Adjei on your show was like watching the comments section of Ghanaweb come to life. She was – in that moment – the physical manifestation of the most troubling aspects of the proletariats’ contribution to the Internet. This from a graduate of LSE? They should just come and give her back her money, rescind their degree and spare all parties the embarrassment and awkwardness. Damn that woman. Now once again, I am put in a position to express contrition to Nana Ama for doubting her assessment of an issue/performance.

But back to you, Paul. I had to check up on a brotha to make sure you are okay. I saw you trying to wrangle the proverbial herd of cats. I recognized your desperate attempt to put the caboose back on the rails. I saw the horror and disbelief in your face when this supposed savant shouted “Heeeeyyyy! More vim!” in response to the one commenter who said that you had met your match in Ms. Adjei.

Match how?

Match where???

The exact moment when Paul realized that there actually may be dwarfs responsible for the collapse of the cedi and they may be living in Abyna's house.

The exact moment when Paul realized that there actually may be dwarfs responsible for the collapse of the cedi and they may be living in Abyna’s house.

It’s like saying Trump is a “match” for Hilary, or like Obama Hotel is a match for African Regent, or like I’m a match for Usain Bolt just because we both have two legs. I mean, how? My brodda, I ask again: Are you okay????

photo-php_As for this one, your producer has to be blamed. He/she really needs to invest more time in screening the subjects you have on your award winning show if you want to keep winning awards. Ms. Ansaa Adjei’s performance was like watching an indigent wander off the set of Jerry Springer onto Christiane Amanpour’s show. I can’t help but recall the international disgrace that was Fauster the Fraudster. Remember him? The dude who photoshopped his face into a space helmet and claimed he won a Nobel Prize and could speak like 35 languages when he appeared on Moomen Tonight? Remember that? Don’t ever go down with banku on your face like Moomen did.

For the purpose of flattery or derision, there are some people comparing Abyna Ansaa Adjei to Ursula Owusu, labeling her as either “strong” or “rude”. Ansaa Adjei is no Owusu. Ursula Owusu would have been prepared with an actual message. Ursula would have sat up straight in her chair and actually listened to the question she was being asked. Ursula would have demonstrated cognitive dexterity and decorum. Does she come across as harsh with her facts? Yes…but at least she has facts. Abyna Ansaa Adjei came with a pamphlet, grievances and rhetorical questions like “so we should clap for them?”

And then started clapping.

Merciful God.

Dude, look. I’ve never seen your show before. Wednesday’s edition was my first introduction to both you and your platform. I like you and for some reason, I feel very protective of you. The cold-as-ice demeanor you demonstrate while talking about politics reminds me of a friend I lost a few years ago. Like, you can smell the BS, but you’re going to let the person who brought it keep carrying it around until they eventually get tired and drop it. Don’t ever change, Paul. Okay? Don’t you ever change!

Yours now and until you screw up,




You NPP reading this: You really have to chose your representatives better. I appreciate that you want to empower women, but you sent a girl to do a woman’s job. Seriously. I’ve seen JSS 1 students explain the nuances of photosynthesis better Ansaa Adjei explained her party’s position. You guys have billed and marketed yourselves as “intellectuals”, as refined yet relatable. You’ve been marketing yourself as the party with a clear difference… and yet you unleashed this female Ayariga to speak on your behalf. Don’t make that mistake ever again. Live up to the measure and standard you’ve set. And remember: the incumbent doesn’t lose elections…it’s down to the opposition to win them. In other words, JDM/NDC just needs to do nothing to retain power unless you up your game.

T.I. Joins Exclusive Group of Visual Artists With Release of ‘Warzone’

Nina Simone once said that it is “the artist’s duty to reflect the times in which we live.” Ms. Simone was many things all at once: an enigma – an undisputed musical genius whose unpredictable mood swings made her a polarizing figure. These elements were often a volatile recipe for calamity in her personal life; but they were also responsible for the creation and unleashing a melodic hurricane that spoke of the anger and frustration of a generation. With provocative and haunting performances like ‘Strange Fruit’ and ‘Mississippi God Damn’ in the days of fire bombings, lynchings, and acquittals by all white juries, Ms. Simone indeed “reflected the times and the situations” in which she – and thousands of people of color all over the nation – found themselves in. There was a general sense of prevailing injustice where Black lives were concerned in America. I wonder if it would grieve Nina Simone to know that 50+ years on how relevant her music still is today for the very same reasons.

Music has always played a crucial role in story telling and the preservation of our history. We have long looked to musicians to play both comforter and chronicler of our pains and joys. Acts like Marvin Gaye, Nina Simone, Bob Dylan and Creedence Clearwater Revival wrote the soundtrack of the protest era of the 1960s. When my generation saw a resurgence of social apathy, corporate greed and police brutality we had no musicians cum socio-political stalwarts to look to. Ours is a generation that values profit over protest, and so it was with gratitude that we eagerly embraced D’Angelo’s ‘Black Messiah’ at the end of a tumultuous 2014, while the Black Eye Peas have been compelled to re-release ‘Where is the love’ (2009) because the world is so jacked up.

It is seldom that we turn to visual art as a political provocateur, as the most visible depictions of Black bodies in art are often seen oscillating between positions of contentment or suffering. As a tool for the purpose of protest, Black bodies in visual art have been employed to appeal to the soul and consciousness of the white mind, pleading for mercy and ascribing camaraderie where none generally exists.

Josiah Wedgewood, an English potter and abolitionist, commissioned one of the most recognized images in contemporary art history. The seal of the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade was the most famous image of a black person in all of 18th-century art. The art is framed around the narrative that one must do unto others what you would have them do unto you. After all, are we not all human? It would set the tone for future depictions of our bodies in art, a desperate attempt to humanize us to a group who has long seen people of African descent as pitiable, exploitable or little more than a curiosity. The art always in the service of the white gaze.


In recent years, there has been a dynamic shift from that approach, and this is where T.I. “Tip” Harris makes his mark and joins a peculiar set of artists who have disrupted this old narrative. Using ‘sacred’ American symbols and white bodies, these artists are no longer asking mainstream America to look inward for compassion. Rather, they have forced that gaze onto a mirror to see themselves in an alternate reality where white privilege no longer exists.

mv5bmti2ody1odcwml5bml5banbnxkftztcwnzyznzuxmq-_v1_uy268_cr30182268_al_The first time I saw this done was in a movie called White Man’s Burden starring John Travolta and Harry Belafonte. Released in 1995 and 89 minutes long, it makes for very uncomfortable watching and would therefore not be surprised if you haven’t heard of it. Naturally, reviewers rated it very low. It unflinchingly shows a complete role reversal, where white people are ignoble savages, predisposed to committing crime and utterly unsalvageable as far as the Black elite are concerned. Think “If he had only followed the officer’s orders, he might have lived” from callous, unsympathetic Black lips munching on green bean casserole in response to watching an 11 year old white kid lies dying in the street.


Laurie Cooper, Black Man in America.

Black Man in America

Black Man in America

Cooper is a Philly based artist whose work showcases the special qualities of Black features. The image of an unmistakably Black man being strangled by the American flag makes a salient point: To be a Black man in America is to slowly have the life drained from you by a system and entity that has identified itself as a paragon of freedom, liberty and life. The juxtaposition is arresting, and if it looks familiar, it’s because Nate Parker borrowed the concept for his marquee art for Birth of a Nation.


Tyler Shields’ photo series ‘Historical Fiction’ (2015)



When Tyler Shields began to share the controversial photo of a naked black man hanging a white Klansman from a tree branch, his friends expressed dismay. It was “too much”. Indeed, it is a lot to process. Harkening back to a time when men in white robes could and did execute Black men, women and children without fear of repercussion, to see a Black man refuse to conceal his identity behind sheets like a coward in order to execute the same murderous treatment undoes everything we have been indoctrinated with about race and power. ‘Historical Fiction’ walks viewers through the daily injustices that African Americans face with white bodies on the receiving end.





Think pieces have been written in abundance about the song and the video that police unions have denounced as “anti-cop”. At the conclusion of this video Queen Bey drowns a cop car with her body, calling to mind the ultimate sacrifices that Black women have made throughout history in the fight against oppression. But perhaps the most pivotal moment in the video is when a carefree Black boy in a hoodie – a garment that Geraldo and his gaggle of co-horts on Fox & Friends believe renders the wearer worthy of street execution – dances in front of a row of police officers in riot gear lifts his arms and compels them to do the same in surrender. Folk did not like that at all. And by folk, I mean Bill O’Reilly n’ dem.




“The new racism is to deny racism exist”. In a brilliant response to the insipidness that is the ‘All Lives Matter’ mantra, T.I. uncorked his bottle of dambs and poured out every last one of them. The man responsible for bestrewing the tragedy that is Iggy Azalea on the world of hip-hop and the world at large has re-earned my respect with this offering. I have to admit, I was concerned for Tip for a moment.

There’s a lot to say about ‘Warzone’, but I won’t spoil it for you if you haven’t already seen/heard it. Viewer discretion is advised.


*Are you comfortable with witnessing white bodies experience Black pain? Discuss.

From Tyler Shields' Historical Fiction

From Tyler Shields’ Historical Fiction