Nature verses nurture

 

Like you , I believe a man entangled by the curiosity to understand the world around him  can only be freed in  a wealth of information that is credible, sprung from research , correctly interpreted , feasible and true. One arm of justice that has always inspired men and women on the journey of truth is the opportunity to hear both sides of any story.

 Before I lead a path to any conclusion against nature, or any path that labels me as friends of nurture, I find it necessary to introduce Papa Stone, a fictitious character whose point of view would serve as the alternative voice some may have in projecting the constituents of my objectivity, which will not only serve as the advocate for the inaudible voice of an alternative school of thought but also the fair verdict with the clairvoyance to see the truth we all seek. 

Papa Stone is an Olympic medalist, a ten times hundred metres runner winner, a man described by many as  an athlete gifted by nature who is now on retirement.  There are stories published about him expatiating how he won many races even though he was blind folded and wearing high hills. I wonder how fast our children will be if I Marry him, thought some women.

However , Derrick, his son, though bestowed with the DNA of his father is described by many as someone who can’t win a race even if he is the only one in it. The question on the mind of Stone is one I seek to address in part if not in whole considering the occasional displacement of findings from one scientist by other scientists. Does nature explain the abilities of humans or does nurture? Another way I can amplify what I mean precisely to anyone would be posing this question to them : Is it fair to say people do their best with the talents bestowed upon them inately or talent is nothing more than a conscious effort put at work in achieving a goal by a man determined beyond his God given limitations? 

 

If nature explains the abilities of men, then it would mean Derrick is either an adopted son or definitely not the son of Mr. Stone. In as much as this may be the case, there are instances when children with the phenotype as well as genetype turn to live beyond their gifts for some unexplainable reason . This gradually fades out when they are educated in fields that nurture their potential, overpowering their weaknesses by nature eventually. Does that give men ability by decision or ability from inheritance?

 When the results from the paternity test proofed Derrick to be Mr. Stone's  legitimate son , I proposed we put him in a racing program in hope of unearthing his racing potential by nurturing him through rigorous training .  After months of hard work, the evidence was clear to Mr. Stone . Gifts given by nature  can be earned by nurture .  Derrick maybe his son but without the training , he can be no where close to the hieghts of his father's talent .

Still in doubt of my claim , Stone cited an example of a friend of ours in jail, Jacob , whom he called a criminal by nature. But I reminded him of our childhood memories with Jacob before he went to jail. Jacob was a man many would describe as a pious ,a  harmless being with no drop of violence in his veins or the aggression to oppose any living thing. 

Like children right from day to boarding schools, being away from your voice of conscious provides the opportunity to test it's validity. And this I believe was the case when Jacob's parents moved him to a new city for greener pasture. Our years of bond, our morality or values shared from growing together, it was all disintegrated by distance, opening him up for alternative perspectives of justice  and ways of coping with  new friends in his new environment.  His environment must have re-educated his emotions as well as his actions before he found himself finally in prison.

 

I know some still insist our nature dictates our actions since we can only do what we have the capacity to do . But I believe if a man can be nurtured under the right conditions , by the right law in the right environment , anything is possible for such a man until he doubts them because doubts are a product of our nurture , not nature . So why would any one masquerade his doubt as the language of all men ? 

 

In Jail for you

I am innocent. Why will I kill someone I love? Why will I hurt you when all you did was help? But who is going to believe me now? You are dead. And in your room, I was the only one they found. When you came back to Ghana, do you remember how happy I was? I was like, "Nobody makes me dance except you. So I will marry you."

You were like, “How I wish this was true! "

I smiled. Not because I was lying to you. But because we both knew that wasn't true.  After seeing your pants for some time I thought it wise to see your papa.  I was like, “When is he seeing the man of your dreams?”

You were like, “And who says you are the man of my dreams?” But that was just a bad joke. Because you smiled, I knew.  Then you were like, “I will take you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Why will you warn me about your father? I was like, “Is your father going to castrate me or something?”

“He is just a man of high standards.” That was what you meant.

"And who says I am a man of low standard? “I said. " No matter how high a man’s standard is; he goes on his knees with a woman in his bed."

 You laughed. You were like, " That's true. But if my mother cannot persuade him, who are you?”

I was like, “Don’t worry. What mama could not do, I will do.”

But when it was time to see him, I was sweating despite your air condition. I almost dropped my phone.

"Just be yourself." You said.

But how could I?  Your father rejected a man with a masters and many houses?  If he did that to someone like him, what do you think he is going to do to me?

Minutes after, he walked in. As soon as you saw him, you hugged me. Then looking at him, you were like, "Today I have brought him, papa. I have brought the source of my happiness.  You’ve always said you wanted me to be happy. Now that he is here please Papa, accept him oh. please.”

 Your father felt really bad. He was like, “. Do you think I kicked those men you brought here for me?"

You were silent.

Your father then looked at me, "Gentleman, what is your name?"

 I told him.   

But he was like, " John what? John the Baptist?"

"John smith."  I said.

"So John, what do you do for a living?"

“I am a programmer.” I said to him.   

He was like, "That's impressive. If you have the patience to write, then I’m sure you will have patience on your wife.”

We laughed.

When I told him I could program anything, he brought me one to test me.   " I have been working on this for some time.” He said. “Think you can fix it?"

 I was like, "Sure."  But after I tried and tried, nothing was working.  Instead of helping me, you laughed at me. 

You were like, " See? That is why I told you to be yourself. How are you going to fix it now?"

 " Don't worry.” I said. “If it's about you, there is always a plan. " I called a friend of mine. He explained a thing or two on the phone. And boom. It worked like magic. Your father couldn't hide his excitement after.

He was like, " Damn you are good. Where did my daughter pick you? You are good. How did you do it?"

I was like, " Sometimes love is all you need." Then he suddenly began to cry. "What is wrong?” I said.

"Nothing.” He said. "It's my wife. She is dead. What you said reminded me of her. "

I was like, “I’m so sorry."

But he won't stop. He cried and cried until you were like, "papa why? If Mama is gone, at least I am here.  Why are you crying like I'm dead?"

He wiped his tears. Then touching me on the shoulder, he was like, "As you can see, I love my daughter so much. She is everything. When her mother was alive, she was my everything. Don't break her heart for me. Please."

 You should have told me about Shawn. But you didn't. So when he told me things about you I believed him. He said your name was Maame Esther but you later changed it to Adjoa. He said you were twenty-eight but you said you were twenty-five. When I asked him why you lied to me, he said it's probably because a lot of men have been inside.  I was like, "Inside as in?" Then he explained what he meant. I was surprised. You’ve dated a lot of men.  Another friend of mine said something similar about you. The only difference I found in the two stories was that in Shawn’s you cheated on all of them. 

When I asked you about this, you were like, "I know Shawn but what he said about me are lies."

I was like, "Why didn't you tell me you knew him until now?"

You were like, "But you never asked." 

 "What about your name?" I said.

Your answer? The same. “You never asked."

Trusting you was still not an issue since I loved you. But after I visited Shawn and saw two of you alone in his room arguing, it became a major issue.  Shawn said he slept with you but you said he didn't. So who was lying to me? You? Or him? 

 I was like, " Tell me the truth."

"I could never cheat on you." You said. But no one told me this. I saw you myself. “I was there.” Finally, you said. “But he didn’t touch me.”

  I was like, “What were you doing there alone then?”

"I was there for an explanation.” You said. “He left me. I needed to know why he was trying to destroy the relationship between you and me."

These things happen. But I also needed to hear Shawn’s side of the story. So the Tuesday after that, I decided to see him. But he was already gone. When I got into his compound, he was gone.  All I saw were people. People crying over something. I moved closer to see what.  And there laid Shawn’s lifeless body.  There was a knife by his side. And next to it was a note. It read: Keep your lies to yourself. Sounded like you. I mean any one in my shoes would have suspected you.  But when I asked, you lost your cool. 

You were like, “How can you not know me?”

 But who doesn't change? I mean we did after dating for some years. Didn’t we? That is why I suggested we go for counseling. I was afraid of divorce.  But from the arguments you were making, it was as if that was what you were seeking.

When the counsellor also realized too, he was like, " Why do you want to divorce? Do you want to throw fifteen years of your life away?”

You were like, “I never thought of it that way.”

Neither did I. But that was how long we had been married.  Fifteen years.

“No one will stay in marriage that long if it had nothing to offer.” The pastor said to you. “There had to be a reason.”

You were like, " There was. But he is gone.  It was the man I married. As far as I’m concerned, he is gone. This man sitting next to me is someone else."

But what had changed about me? I was tall and still tall. Hairy and still hairy. Handsome and still handsome. Everything about me before marriage and after marriage was the same. So what did you mean?

"You've changed." You said. "When was the last time you helped me with the chores? Do you help me with the kids these days? I do everything myself. And when I'm done, you expect me to open my thighs. Why should I when you are someone else? What kind of woman do you think I am?"

I was like, " Maybe Shawn could answer. " Then bom, I felt a slap on my face.

“Don’t ever say that to me?” You said.

The pastor smiled. I thought he was mocking me.

"Relax.” He said to me. " It’s not so bad. You should see the couples who come here. Some come here with nothing. No love. No job. No money. No kids. But still want to stay married. This is good.” Then he looked at you. He was like, “Your partner doesn't need to always understand you. All he needs is to be there for you. But if he doesn't get you, how is he going to do that?"  You were like, " Pastor, that is a grown man sitting right there. He knows what to do. How can he say he love me? Then watch me drive, pick up his kids, cook for him, do other things for him and in return I don’t even get a ‘thank you’. How can you say you love me when you have never given me a gift? When was the last time he said it? Ask him. I am tired of living in deception. I can’t do this anymore. It’s best I divorce. "

The counselor was like, " No please. No divorce. You married in love. If you feel like it is lost, I can help you. But if you still want to divorce, I can't stop you." Then he looked at me. He was like, " She loves you. But do you love her?"

I was like, "Yeah."

He was like, "Which part of her?"

I was like, "That is not fair."

"What is love then?" He said.

  I was like, " Love is love. I don't know. God?"

He was like, " I didn't say who is love. I said what is love."

Now I understood his question.  But what it was I still didn't know.

Love. Love. What is it? The first thing that came to mind was Titanic. And Jack dying instead of Rose.  Then next was rap lyrics. And the poet, Solomon of course. And ideas appeared and disappeared before me. Appeared and disappeared until I was left with one. A memory verse I assumed love could be.  I was like, "Love is patient. Love is kind. Love doesn't envy and has no pride. It is selfless and forgives all sins. But most importantly it delights in the truth."

The pastor got mad. He was like, “I can't believe this. You took so long and still got it wrong?”

I was like, “Wrong. How can this be?” 

“You only described people in love.” He said. “You didn't tell me what it was."

 I was like, " So what is love?” 

The pastor didn’t answer. He was like, " Look into your wife’s eyes and tell me."

I looked into your eyes and was like, “Can you believe him? He thinks sex and love are one.”

“As if you don’t.” You said.

I was like, “Hell no. “

Then you were like, “Then answer. What is love?”

“You are the one supposed to tell me” I said to you. We argued and argued until I was tired. I was like, “What do you want from me?”

 The entire room was quiet. No one felt like speaking. But then the pastor forced you to. He was like, “Go on. Tell him. Tell him what you want from him.”

“I want nothing from you.” You said. “All I need is your love.” 

"Can you be a little more specific?" The pastor suggested. “

I was like, "Yeah. Because I think I love you."

 You were like, “No, you don't love me. Love me. Like treasure me. Do nice things for me."

 "Things like what?" I said. 

You looked at the pastor like, " Won't it take the magic away if I told him?"

“He can’t read your mind." He said to you. " You need to tell him.”

So you told me. You were like, " Love me. Like say you do even if you don’t. Yes. Love me. Like when I'm cooking, support me. Don't just sit in the hall and watch television the whole year. Support me. And if you can appreciate me. That is love to me.  Despite your twisted ideas of love, I stayed with you. Just love me. Because I still love you.

"I love you. too" I said. The pastor was like, "Both of you, tell me. Now what is it?"

 " Probably a word we use when our feelings are mutual." You said, laughing. I still had no idea what it was.

The pastor was like, " I liked your answer. But when it comes to women, why must everything be about feelings?".

" Yeah, feelings. "I supported him. "That is love to them. Feelings. And they are conditional too. Are they not? That is probably why if women are not in the mood, you can’t be either.”

We laughed. Not with you. At you. 

You got mad. You were like, “Stop laughing. That’s not fair.  What about men? They love conditionally too. After birth, what do they do? They look for someone better looking than you. Can your body be the same after birth? So how is this unconditional?" 

I was like, " Well, that wouldn't be the case if the love that led to the pregnancy also wasn't conditional in the first place.” The pastor couldn’t help but laugh.

 “A man gets love after paying bills and buying stuff.” I reminded you.  “But what happens when he loses his job? If our love is conditional, what about yours?”

“I can’t believe this.” You said. “When you had no money, I was proud of you. With or without money, I loved you. So why are you saying this?”.

“It’s true. "I said. "Your love is conditional.”

“What about yours?” you said.

We argued and argued until the pastor was like, “Stop. Love is conditional. And we need to fix it. So whose condition comes first?".

"Mine." We both said at the same time. 

" Okay, you first." The pastor said to you. “What do you expect from him?”.

You were like, " Nothing. I don't even want him anymore."

"If God didn't want us anymore because of our sins, where do you think we will be?" The pastor said to you. " He loved us first so that we might know how it feels or what it is in the first place. I know you think it's better to know someone loves you before you love them. But if your husband didn't love you, do you think he will be here?" You listened, quietly.  "I might not know how much he loves you, or whether he even loves you, " The pastor continued. "But what I know is love can be complicated sometimes. I've been doing this job for a while and I see different kinds of love. A couple came here for counseling three days ago. Their complaints? A simple misunderstanding. The woman called her man unromantic. And the man, he called her a fanatic. I asked the woman what exactly she meant by romantic. "Oh, he is an African man." she said. " All he cares about is money. Money and money. He has no time for his family. And when I complain, he says I'm a fanatic. But is there any difference between him and the Mexican men in the soap operas? He is just not romantic. The man disagreed. He was like, " What is romance if you are hungry? I am romantic. I just need my life more than it. " They argued and argued, pointing each other's weakness as if I wasn't there. But at the end of the day, guess what? They embraced each other right before me. Not because I asked them to. But because love can be complicated. One other lady who came for counselling a year ago. She looked whipped. So I said she should break up with her boyfriend. But somehow they got married. And now she is happy with him. The fact that your relationship is complicated doesn't mean your partner doesn't love you. I mean take men for example. They sleep with women they hate and women they love. So how do you know when they are not in love? Or look at Women. They want money and time at the same time. Which can be crazy for any man. You have something and you know it. I can grant a divorce if you still want to. Tell me. What is it going to be?" 

 " I think my husband already knows.” You said. 

Then we left. 

A lot of things changed after that. A lot. Like, I was now taking the kids to school often. And calling you beautiful on a daily basis. Just doing anything and everything to make you happy. I even took you to Sparks. Someone told me it was your favorite.  But Sparks was also where I met Rhoda. She was working as a waitress. She brought me a card I dropped accidentally after I paid.  And that is the woman I think killed you. 

She came to me like, “Are you John Smith?"

And I was like, "Yes."

"This must be yours." She said, giving me the card. After I had taken it, she was still staring at me.

Staring at me for what? “Thank you.” I said, thinking it was about manners. But even after that, she was still staring at me.  I was like, "Is there a problem?"

  She was like, "No. But do you mind if I ask you a question?"

“Go ahead.” I said.

“Did you know Shawn?” She said.

Of course I did. Shawn was like my best friend. 

"What about Adjoa?" She said. 

I was like, “She is my wife.”

She was like, " Your what?"

 " Is something wrong?" I said to her.

" Didn’t you say Shawn was a good friend?" She said.

“Yeah.” I said.

 She was like, " So why are you married to his girlfriend?"

 I was like, "What is wrong with that? He is dead. And why so many questions? Who was he to you?"

"My brother." She said.

 I was like, " Rhoda. Sorry I didn't recognize you. "

She was like, " I know all his friends. It was you. Wasn't it? You did it."

I was like, " Did what?"

She was like, "Why did you do it? Why did you kill my brother?"

Kill Shawn? I was home when he was murdered.

“Liar.” She said. “Murderer.” She screamed. “Murderer.” She grabbed the neck of my shirt angry, screaming and screaming until finally her manager heard it. As soon as he did, he organized some men to carried her away, safe from his customers. No one found her brother’s murderer.  But why me?

A day after this incident, you sent me a text message asking me to meet you at our usual place because of our kids. So I got to Alisa as soon as I closed from work. You usually lock the door but this time it was opened. I walked in and before me was the shock of my life. Someone had stabbed you with a knife. Before you could reach the hospital, you died. I am innocent. But apart from you who else knows?

The restless pen

 

 Why write when you can speak?" They say.
Are words and sounds not the same?
But the world through a paper is not just a picture to me.
It's a message frozen in time.
The truth of our past in lines.
A history of our thinking and a way to "unthink" our present.
A filter of thoughts and sentences
A train to some emotions we might never embrace again.
My pen cannot rest till perjury evicts out from you.
My pen cannot rest till I tell you the story you suppress
My pen cannot rest till I create a world better than what I see.

Bleed oh mighty pen, bleed.
Scream out the voice of the man murdered for greed
Scream also for the child aborted for a fee
Scream ! Tell it all , till I am out of words.
I maybe restless with you
But only in restlessness can I command change.

An excuse to live

 

If righteousness is filthy, what is the point of being holy ?
If to be free is an illusion, then what is the point of emancipation?
If justice is lost, how can people owe property ?
Life has no meaning but the one you give it.


The sun shines but after sometimes it must disappear.
A child is born but after some days he must die
Laughter is good but after laughing you must cry
What does it mean to live if in the end you will die ?

If you were never loved , how can you love ?
If you don't love, how can you be loved?
If you are not loved, what is love?
Life has no meaning but what you give it.

You were hungry , now you are full.
You were single , now you are two.
You were barren, now you are a mother.
What has life given you that was forever?


You are fragile and innocent
Born into a world full of ambiguity and confusion
But if I cease to exist , who will I be?
Nothing more than a man living without meaning.


As long as I have, have me.
As long as there is time, have me.
For you are not just my child
You have become my excuse to live
What will life be without thee!

A personality shaped by poverty

“Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got
I’m still; I’m still Jenny from the block
Used to have a little, now I have a lot
No matter where I go I know where I
Came from."
Does this song sound familiar to you? Correct. It is a song by Jenny lopez , eulogizing her transition from “poverty” to a state of wealth. In her lyrics, she portrays herself as a conqueror over her past, someone who stays grounded despite the enormous wealth surrounding her.  This had me thinking. You know what they say about toughness. When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

In contrast to Jeno’s experience, I remember what happened when I was back in Ghana. While walking in the street of Madina, a woman stood by the roadside dressed in tattered clothes. She had a baby in her hand and she claimed the baby needed money for a serious operation. Having been once poor, I was moved by compassion to offer her some money. The only condition I attached to this was to give the hospital the money, instead of her. For security reasons. However, she refused my help.
Later, I was told by some people living around that she was part of a scam and that I was lucky I didn’t give any money. Why does poverty affect some people positively and others negatively?

  When someone says the word poverty, I call in memory the environment in which I lived, the friends that I made, the resources that I had and my education. Some people believe you are poor if you spent less than a dollar in a day, without considering where you are.  Others define poverty considering one’s country. You may be poor if you compare your standard of living to someone in another country using this. This definition is one extended in the social context wherein people label others poor because they have more money than them. To me, poverty is when you wake up one morning only to discover you don’t have a job, your level education is poor; you don’t have friends or support from your government in any way, and people in your community can’t wait to pound on you even when you are innocent of crimes. That was what I meant when I said I was once poor.

One psychologist, I admire so much when it comes to any subject pertaining to social science or development is Abraham Maslow. Maslow must have discovered a relationship between poverty and self-actualization when he proposed the hierarchy of human needs and this is why I say so. According to Maslow’s theory, our biological needs are the most important needs in our lives. In other words, career goals would mean nothing to a child who has no food to eat. Love would be mean nothing to a woman who needs money to survive. Likewise, education.
Thus, the stain that remains on the cloth of a man once poor is mediocrity. The question about how to survive and still achieve one’s dreams is one that changed my priorities in life. Projecting from Maslow’s theory, I think it would be fair to say the same question still cripples the dreams of many and mocks the ambition of others.
Another effect that cannot be denied is the pattern of thinking formed by the experience of poverty.  Cognitive theory of learning redefines the environment in which one lives as not just a place but an educator in the absence of formal education, a counselor in times of confusion and one’s religion or conscience when making decisions. Perhaps your father trained you to be a model of him. Perhaps you solve issues pertaining to finances using his models. Perhaps you are poor from this. Perhaps an overhaul in thinking can reshape your thinking and liberate you from your pattern of thinking. When do you intend to do this?
Being born in a community whose lies dictate many of my decisions,   I believe poverty affects you even if you grow out of it. The question to ask yourself is not how it affects you but how long you want it to? Tell me, are you a personality shaped by poverty? Or a personality that shapes poverty? You decide.  But whatever the case may be don't be fooled by the rocks that you got. You should be the same person on the block. You use to have a little, now you have a lot. No matter where you go,  better know where you came from.

Role model

Role model. Who needs them if they are men?
Who needs them if they only pretend?
You were the train to my conscience
And the light in my darkness
But ever since you found good,
You have been bad
Since you found bad, you call it good
Why should I imitate you when you don't follow your own rules ?

It won't break me, you say.
It won't change me, you say.
Who are you after bending the rules?
Well, it's the way it's done, you say.
How can there be another if justice is merely a tool ?

Role model
I have none
It's not because I'm rude.
I have none because of you.
Tell me, how big is your pocket ?