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 ?

Being Diana

I use to be you. Or at least like you. I had long hair and breasts just like yours. In my hand was a copy of my CV. And on my face, a phony smile all because I was desperate for a job. I have a beard and a broad chest. But a year ago, I was just like you.

I would fake calls to avoid being called. And if that didn't work, then I would give wrong
numbers to my stalkers so they would just leave me alone. Many thought I was arrogant. But
who would have believed me if I told them I was in someone else's body and she, in mine. Who?
Not even the woman who gave birth to me. I know because I asked.

Being Diana was one of the most difficult tasks in my life. Why? Well, whatever I hated, she
loved. How can anyone be someone they despised? In addition to this, only three living beings
knew who I was. Yes, only three in this big world. And even for them, initially they were also
confused. 

Take David for example. He only barks at strangers. So why did he attacked me when I
approached him? If not for my brother, that dog would have eaten me up as if he hadn't been fed
in years. Wait the minute. That was exactly what James said. He hadn't fed him in years. Yes,
years. That must have been why I laughed.

“You almost died and you find humor in that?” James said to me, surprised.

“Of course!" I replied. "How is he living without food all these years? And why do you think I
will pay for damages when that dog is yours?”

 

“I’m not paying for damages whether he is mine or not" James assured me with a straight face,
still unable to recognized me.
“-just like you did when he ate her cat. Right?". James should have known who I was by now.  But he still looked confused. 

 
“How did you know that?" He said.
“Huh?” I moved closer to him and frowned. "That dog ate your girlfriend's cat and all you can say to me is how?"

 

 
"But I warned her about dogs." James said with fear lurking in his voice. 

 
"You haven't change a bit." I concluded, listening to him. "Still a coward. You can stop
incriminating yourself now. It's just me." I said to James. 

 
"I still don't know who you are." He said to me, 

 
"Think, James." I begged him. "Who else knows about the cat apart from your brother? It's me,
Jonathan." 

 
"Is this suppose to be some kind of joke? “James laughed. " Since when did parents start calling
their daughters Jonathan?" "Did you hear that?" He said to his dog, laughing. "Come on, lady."
He said to me, now looking serious." Who are you? I mean really." 

 
"I'm serious." I said to him." It's me, Jonathan." 

 
"Jonathan?"

 
"Yes, Jonathan." 

 
"I knew it. This must be why David attacked you." He said to me, laughing. "You are crazy."
"And Jonathan."

Will you stop calling yourself that? “James said to me. " My brother is out of the country for
your information. And he will never do plastic surgery for any reason. I don't know what you
think you are doing. But if you are a scam, this is not going to work." 

 
"I'm not playing games." I said to James. 

 
"Then what do you call this?" He laughed. 

 
"Look at me." I said to him, moving closer. 

 
"Stay away from me." He warned." If you come any closer, I will make sure that dog finishes
what he started." Then he grabbed the fury creature. I moved back. Then he walked away. As if
what I said to him means nothing. As if it was just a coincident. How could he do this to me?
James. James. I called several times. But he refused to look behind. I need to get out of this body.
I said to myself, afraid of losing my brother too.

The second time I remember seeing David while I was still in Diana’s body was at a super-
market. There was nowhere to run or hide. With mouth open and saliva dripping, the
carnivorous creature pound on me like a lion. I was terrified. And who wouldn't be? But all he
ended up doing was licking the make-up I had spent hours doing completely off my face. Maybe
he recognizes me now. I thought. And I was right. He sat as soon as I asked him to. 

 
“Is that your dog?” A lady who saw me running from it earlier on asked, concerned.
Yes. That was not what I said. It was what I intended to say until I saw David barking at a
teenager standing behind the woman. 

 
“What did you do to him this time?” The teenager asked. He was angry. It was obvious from his
tone. Poor James. Even his dog knew me. And he couldn't see me? What a blind teenager!

“Ask your dog, yourself." I said to him." He is the one who should be eating me up. Not you."
Then the bull dog moved behind me as if it felt safer behind me than with James. That must have
been the point the woman's question was answered. 

 
"You shouldn't be running from your friends." She said to me. " That dog likes you even if you
think he is about to eat you. Stop running from him." Then she walked into her house, upset.
James couldn't help but laugh. "What was she talking about?" He said to me. "David, your
friend?" 

 
"I know." I brushed the dog's fur sarcastically, also laughing. 

 
" You know if Jonathan is in another person's body, then it must be yours from the looks of
things." James said, laughing. If only he knew what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, "
he added. " But if David likes you, I like you." 

 
"I'm Diana." I said to him. 

 
"Nice meeting you, Diana." He said.

“Ask your dog, yourself." I said to him." He is the one who should be eating me up. Not you."
Then the bull dog moved behind me as if it felt safer behind me than with James. That must have
been the point the woman's question was answered. 

 
"You shouldn't be running from your friends." She said to me. " That dog likes you even if you
think he is about to eat you. Stop running from him." Then she walked into her house, upset.
James couldn't help but laugh. "What was she talking about?" He said to me. "David, your
friend?" 

 
"I know." I brushed the dog's fur sarcastically, also laughing. 

 
" You know if Jonathan is in another person's body, then it must be yours from the looks of
things." James said, laughing. If only he knew what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, "
he added. " But if David likes you, I like you." 

 
"I'm Diana." I said to him.
"Nice meeting you, Diana." He said.

 

Men might not agree with women who claim they sleep with anything in skirt. But do you think
the man who interviewed me when I applied would have thought of sex if he could see my beard,
my bloated ego, and manly smell instead of my breasts and hips when he proposed to me? I
doubt. He was staring at my buttocks in his office like, “Do you know you have a bright future
behind you?". When he should have been interviewing me. I was shocked. Who did he think I
was? Diana? 

 
"Like I was saying," He continued. "You have a bright future behind you. But you see, your
problem is you lack experience.” Then he stood up from his chair. "You need someone to mentor
you." He moved closer. “Someone who can be your friend. " He grabbed my hand staring into
my eyes. " Someone like me." He finally admitted. My heart could have jumped from my body
just to shut those lips of his. My hands also would have grab his head to inspect what was in it.
But I wasn't Jonathan. I was Diana. " If you agree to keep our relationship confidential, I will
give you everything you need." He continued. “All you have to do is treat me good and I will
treat you good. Really good. " Then he leaned forward, now in my personal space, with his face
close to mine. "So what do you say? Is it a 'yes' or a 'no’?" 

 
I slapped him instantly. What a moron! He was speechless. His fury probably surpassed his
sanity. 

 
"Get out!" He screamed. " You want free lunch. Well it's out there. Out of my office. Out! Now."
I walked out but at least I had my dignity when I did. 

 
Three days later, I saw myself once again. I don't mean myself as in slapping men who think
they can take advantage of me. I'm talking about myself as in seeing my body. The real one. Yes,
my old body. With someone else living in it. She was not going to get away this time. No. And

the annoying thing of all was what she had done to my beard. I hate trimming them down. Who
asked her to? And who said she could wear my suit? She had them on, walking majestically
around just because she hadn't seen me.
"Jonathan?" She freaked out as soon as she saw me. 

 
"What did you do to me, Diana or whoever you are?" I felt my heart about to explode. 

 
"What is the problem?" She said, laughing. " Don't you enjoy being me?" Then she run off. 

 
“Stop that woman!” I screamed, racing after my body. 

 
“Which woman?” I bumped into a man and fell. 

 
"That woman." I pointed Diana, struggling to get up from the ground. " Stop her. She is getting
away with my body. Stop her." But I was too late. The man let Diana run. 

 
"That's a man." He said to me, helping me up. “What woman are you talking about?" 

 
"Never mind." I said to him, brushing the dust off my shoes and shirt. What a fanatic! Hadn't he
heard of witches before? Hadn't he seen women in men's body before? Hadn't he seen men in
women's body before? What a fanatic! 

 
“You are bleeding.” He said, looking at my leg. 

 
"Never mind." I said to him." I'll be fine. You know you are right. I should believe whatever I
see these days." I said sarcastically. 

 
" And about that, what do you see when you look at me? A man or a woman?" He said.
Shut up. I said to myself. What was this man's problem? Did he think I was sick in the head for
real? 

 
"You look like a nice lady." He said. " I just want to be sure you are not crazy. Besides, there is
nothing any man won't do for you."

Really? Being pretty must be a lot of work. What do you say to a man hitting on you after he
failed to save you? Hehe. But there was something familiar about what he said anyways.
Something. Oh I now remember. Sampson. Yes, Sampson. 

 
When I was young, it was my favorite program. Young Sampson. There was a time in the show
when three boys followed a football until it rolled into a lion’s den. 

 
“It’s dark in there. " The first boy said to the other two. " I'm not going into a den just because
I’m Daniel. You do it, Pee." Daniel was looking at a boy in a red hat. 

 
“But I have to pee. " The boy in the hat claimed, rushing into a bush. 

 
"Where is he?" Daniel asked the boy with him when the boy in the hat never returned. 

 
"Probably peeing." The boy with him said. 

 
"It was 8.00 when he left." Daniel said to the boy. “Now it's 12.00. Patrick, what is Pee doing?
Dehydrating or peeing?" 

 
"I don't know." Patrick replied. "Maybe he is gone." 

 
"Then you get the ball."

 
"Me?" Patrick trembled.

 
"Yes, you." Daniel insisted. "You kicked the ball. You get it." He offered him a torch light and
then he took some steps behind him. "Go and don't return without my ball." 

 
Overcoming his fear one heartbeat at a time, Patrick entered the den and managed to reach the
ball. “Hey, I have it now." He cried out to Daniel. But all he heard was silence. "Daniel, are you
still out there?” He called out once again. But all he heard was silence. "Daniel?"
Suddenly a lion roared. Then without thinking, Patrick dropped the ball he came for, racing out
of the den like lightening. A lion was after him. What was he suppose to do? Just when it was about to pound on him, Sampson showed up, grabbed its jaw and opened it as wide as he could
till the lion dropped dead. That was awesome. Wasn't it? I had never seen a man do anything
like this. Then Sampson said to Patrick, " Be brave. There is nothing any man won't do for you.
Be brave." 

 
Ever since that day, all I dreamed of was killing a lion like him or at least doing something close
to this. Now I can't do anything because of this wimpy body of mine. Why me? Why?
In December the following year, can you believe who I saw in a grocery shop? Yes, James.
Hahaha. James hates grocery shops. What was he doing in this one? 

 
“Jonathan!” He hugged me as soon as he saw me. As if we’ve known each other for years. What
was going on? And did he just call me Jonathan? Yes, he did. How did he know who I was? I
asked him. 

 
"How did you know about the cat?" He also asked me.

 

I thought other people knew that secret." I said to him.

“That’s what I thought too until I asked him”. He said to me. 

 
“You asked Jonathan?” I said to him. 

 
“Yes, I did. And can you believe he didn't know about the cat?" James said to me. 

 
“That is what I've been trying to tell you." I said to him. We celebrated his discovery with some
drinks at the bar. Then I told him how it all happened. 

 
Ten years ago, I was in my office when I received a call from my secretary. There was a woman
who wanted to see me in the same seat you are sitting in. Celestine Moyesta. That was her name.
At least, that was what she told me. People who read the story about Moyesta shiver at the
mention of her name. But I didn't. Because I never believed it. According to the story, Moyesta was amongst the women ruled in Dara till she escaped. In Dara, women were expected to cook,
satisfy their husbands and shut up. That was all. Everything else was a man's job. And for 60
years, no one complained until Moyesta disagreed. 

 
“If the law is made for the good of all, then why should we perform the responsibilities of some
men and still be treated as worthless beings?” 

 
That was her question at a meeting with the men. The men were surprised hearing this. They
claimed the law was made by nature and couldn't be changed. Others said the fury of their
ancestors would destroy them if it was changed. 

 
When Moyesta refused to accept this, they sacked her from the village. She found herself in the
evil forest running from men ordered to kill her when she was caught instigating the women
against the men three days after her banishment. Moyesta was never found. Everyone assumed
she was dead since there were demons in that forest. But she was alive. Safe from the injustice that reigned in Dara after she disappeared.

Years after this incident, the chief of Dara was addressing his people when the lifeless body of a
man fell from the skies before him.
“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, looking around. "Who threw him?" 

 
Through his heart, an arrow pierced, taking his life instantly. Because the killer could not be
seen, everyone was afraid. The men scattered, only to be killed one after another in a bush. Then
a voice screamed, "Victory at last. Victory." It was the voice of the woman who was supposed to
be dead, Moyesta. Leading an invisible army of women. Till today no one knows for sure how
she was able to do it. Or whether this was true. Yet they still tremble at the mention of her name.
Or anyone with her surname.

Celestine Moyesta passed her interview. The main reason I couldn't offer her a job was because I
thought she was lying to me. She told me she was a descendant from the queen. But as far as I
was concerned, that story was nothing but a cock and bull tale. And she also wasn't qualified too.
I was expecting to see a man.

Four years after, she was back in my office again. With a degree under her belt now. The
problem was her age. She was 28. I was expecting someone younger. She cried when I said no.
At that same time someone else was crying too. My phone. I had twenty missed calls and I didn't
know. I called back my HR to explain things but she almost ripped me apart instead.
“Calm down Juliet." I pleaded. "I was at a meeting." 

 
“That is not a problem." She said. "It’s what you keep doing that is. "

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

" The man you hired, I don't think he knows a thing about computers." She told me on the phone.

 
"You need to do something. And I mean now." 

 
“And do you have a replacement?" I wondered. 

 
“What about Moyesta?" Juliet suggested. " Is she not in your office?" 

 
And she was; and she heard everything. I decided to change my mind. But only if she agreed to
my conditions. She accepted them but months after she was sick of meeting me at hotels, in my
home all alone, in my office and in my bed. 

 
"I am not doing this anymore." She said to me a year after. 

 
“What about our agreement?” I said to her.

“We don’t have an agreement." She said. "I'm not a prostitute, Jonathan. I came here to work.
That contract was void a long time ago!” 

 
“The only contract void here is yours with my company." I warned her. "If you don’t comply, I
will fire you." 

 
“You can't fire me." She said to me. “I bring in more money than all your workers together."
"I see."

Three days after this argument, I asked George, one of my employees to hack into Celestine
system to alter her records. George had no excuse. So I wasn't surprised when the HR fired
Celestine days after. I was relaxed in my office when she barged in. 

 
“I hope you are happy now?” she said to me, trying to hide the bitterness lurking in her voice. 

 
"Are you aware this is my office?" I said to her. " You can’t barge in like this?" 

 
“Your office?" She carried my laptop from my table and smashed it to pieces. " This is all you do
here. " She said. "Destroying lives. And you call this an office." Then she pushed all the reports
on my table down to the floor. "This is not an office. This is not an office. Why don't you just kill
me right here, Jonathan? Kill me, Jonathan! Kill me. " 

 
"If that is all you came here to do, now that you are done, can you please leave my office?" I said
to her. 

 
She moved to the door. Just when she was about to close it, she said to me. " I have a son, you
know. I hope he doesn't grow up to be a man like you." Then she slammed the door behind her.
That was the last time I saw her.

Months after I saw a woman in short skirt, with her breasts almost out of her blouse, standing in
the dark at Havenz Gates. Havenz Gates is a place men see women, sleep with them and
sometimes pay. So what was Celestine doing here? She spat in my face right after seeing me.
Then a boy, probably ten years or younger dragged her from me. What have I done? I was
paralyzed by guilt that night. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn't do anything but think. And
Celestine was all I thought of. 

 
Half asleep with my television still on, I heard her name. I opened my eyes, shocked to see her
on television. Oh. Next to her laid the boy I saw who dragged her away. Also shot dead. Who did
this? According to an eye witness, it was a man in grey top. And it was after an argument over
money, that he shot her. The boy next to Celestine must have intervened. That must have been
why he was also shot. But no one was able to identify the killer as small as the city was. They
were probably scared to speak up. And nothing more

Years after, a woman came into my office for a job. She said she was Diana. I didn't know her
but there was something familiar about her. I just didn't know what. "Have we met before?" I
asked her. 

 
"I don't think so." She said. 

 
I couldn't just give her the job without any terms and conditions. So I spelt out the rules of the
game. Most women hesitated after hearing them, insulted me, walked out of my office or tried to
kill me. This one, she was different. She didn't even have a tantrum or a look of shock on her
face. All she asked of me is to agree to a game of hers. That is how I found myself in Diana's
body. A stupid role play game. "The story about Moyesta is true." I said to James. “She has powers indeed. She deceived me. And now the only way I can have my body back is if I do
whatever she says till I am twenty-five." 

"But you are thirty-five." James said to me. 

"I'm not talking about me." I said to him. " I mean this body. Diana's. If I don't complete all her
tasks, I will remain a woman forever." 

Now James knows what happened. How do I convince Mama too? When she saw me in bed with
James in the morning, she almost had a heart attack. 

"Who is this woman in your bed?" She asked my brother. 

"She is my girlfriend, Mama." That was what James said to her. 

"Your girlfriend?" 

"Yes." He said to her.
Then Mama scanned me from head to toe. Her verdict? No. 

"But you barely know her. " James said in my defense. 

“I don’t want to." Mama said. "A woman in bed with you can convince you to do anything. It's
no. And where is that brother of yours? Won't he come back to Ghana?"
I could have answered her as soon as she said this. But would she believe me? 

"Mama, please." James pleaded. "She is not like other girls. I wouldn't have brought her home if
she was. Please, Mama. I'm not Jonathan." 

“Fine." Mama finally agreed. "Just don't leave me here like your brother did. I didn't mean to
hurt him or drive him away." 

The queen visited me that night. Not physically. In my dreams.
"If I could find my animus, she would tell me how to gain back my body."

 

That was what she said to me. But what is animus? If there was one, probably the female friends
I made would know. Sophia hadn't heard it before. And the brightest of them all, Jasmine, didn't
know what it was either. What do I do now? How about asking older women? Mama? Yes,
Mama. I was going to ask her. Initially Mama didn't want to say a word but when she realized
how serious I looked, she decided to speak to me. 

 
“When my husband died three years, I became his replacement. " She said. "What he used to do
for our family, I had to do. It was difficult. I was the only one. But I have never looked back in
regret since I started. Why do you think I said no to your relationship with my son? I couldn’t
imagine you doing what I did after he died. Animus. It’s the man in every woman, the fire that
fuels you to be independent when the odds are against you." 

 
I was touched by her story. With the experience I had being Jonathan, I joined hands with
Jasmine and some other female friends I trusted. And we were able to start something on our own before my twentieth birthday. Amazing. Isn't it?

Moyesta visited me in my dreams again. But it was not to give back what she stole. It was
because she had another difficult work for me. She asked me to convince men to support women
before she would give back the body she stole. 

 
"Why should I trust you this time?" I said to her. 

 
"I am not a man that I should lie." She replied, laughing. "A deal is a deal. Find a way to get
support from your men and you can have your body." Then she disappeared. 

 
The men usually support our business. But for some reason, they were not interested in it after
this dream. Did Moyesta have anything to do with this? I wondered. They usually offer loans
because we paid in full and on time. So why did they deny us now? Some of them said there was no money. 

But that was a lie. The same companies were offering loans to companies owned by
men. How come? We tried to changed their minds by offering them assets worth ten times the
loan we needed. Nothing worked. I almost closed down the company I started with Jasmine. But
then it hit me. If we can't convince the men to support the women, why don't we convince the
women to support women instead? What if the men only supported women who could support
them? This was a brilliant idea. I told my team and project Guns begun.

Guns, just like it sounds, was like a gun shot in the air after it was launched. That project brought
women hiding from everywhere. They came in their numbers to pitch their dreams to us. A lot of
them were great. 

One of them was Mary Mensah's. Mary was a woman of 50 years in a wheel
chair, with a dream beyond walking and a mind that inspired greatness. I still remember her pitch.
She was like, "My name is Mary Mensah and I’m the proud founder of Marrez Seed, a company
I foundered when women had no say. Marrez Seed invests in information. Our seeds represent
the information we sell to you. But we are unique because our information is as quality as
jewelry, relevant as water and as accurate as dates. With your support, we believe we can
expand our business, and the world of information at large." 

 
Her project made us millions. I was impressed. Another impressive project we supported that
drew the attention of the men was a project called Doccota. A watch able to tell people when
they are sick, what to do and how to do it. The men decided to support all other projects we
initiated. I was surprised. I mean hypothetical, my premise was accurate. But to see men eager to
support any project we embarked on was a miracle.

The witch appeared in my dream once again. I was furious. After all I did, she was not satisfied.
She expected one more thing from me. She expected me to tell her why I deserve my body even
though she didn't own it? What kind of question was that? 

" Why should I make you a man when it's a blessing being a woman?" She said to me.
“-Because I performed all your stupid tasks." I said, angrily. 

"I could have easily done all that and more. " She replied. "Convince me. Or don't you want your
body back? Think of your family. Your company. Your friends." 

“Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you." I said to her. "But this is not right." 

"I know. " She said to me. "But see sorry doesn't change everything." 

This had me thinking. What if nothing changed? What if I was Diana and there was nothing I
could do about it? What if I was a woman and this life I was running from was all I had? What
will I do? Tears drop down my face thinking about how I suffered, the jobs I lost, the constant
sexual harassment and all the other negative things I faced as a woman. "Your point is clear
enough to me." I said to Moyesta. "It's a struggle being you. But see that is why you need me. I
know you. Because I've been you. But Karma doesn't work like this. If I can change, think of the
number of men who will when I speak to them? Give me back my body and you will see." 

"I'm not a fool." She said to me. "That was what the last man said to me. What is the difference
between you and him?"
I was speechless. 

"Goodbye Jonathan." She said. 

"No. Wait." But she was already gone. What do I do now? Nothing. At least I tried. I said to
myself. I tried. Didn't I?

 

When I woke up the following morning, everything had changed. My chest
was broad. My hair was short. And in the mirror, was a message probably laid out deliberately for me. I'm not a man, that I should lie. Wow! She really kept her promise. She gave back what she stole from me, my body.  But why? Did she find another? Was she dead? Did she believe what I said? Whatever it was, the most important thing to me is it’s over. Congratulations! You got the job. So tell me, when can you start?