CELEBRI-TREES

So the other day I was talking with my mum (my number 1 inspiration) about Ghana and our so-called celebrities.  We came to the obvious, yet painful conclusion that besides team members of the Black Stars, no one else comes under the celebrity status tag in Ghana.

Think about it, where do Ghanaian celebrities hang out? Where do they go to eat? Where do they shop? Where to the live? Do we have a community that's the preserve of our stars. Say, Trassaco Valley? Wouldn't that be an awesome place for all the hiplife artists? Naa man, even the producers/promoters are all “straiggling”. In Ghana, most artists live in the studios of their producers. Not because they are waiting for a sudden and an unplanned outburst of creativity in the middle of the night, it's simply because they have no where else to be. They only come out during events and shows and try to pretend to be all starry, when we know that they are merely shattered pieces glass that glisten in the sun’s rays. Were we to do the Ghanaian version of MTV Cribs for our stars, excluding our Black Stars, we may not have enough worthy enough homes for 10 episodes.

[caption id="attachment_171" align="aligncenter" width="360" caption="These are some of our "Stars" "][/caption]

One might ask, what about our movie stars? Surely they must have it good, seeing as they act endlessly in 10-part movies. They should be able to afford half a million dollar homes and more. Nay, I tell ya, a big NAY! They are probably the worst of them all. Who is Nadia Buari? Who is Jackie Appiah or Van Vicker? I can assure you that it'll take them twelve lifetimes to reach the star status of Angelina Jolie, Julia Roberts or Denzel Washington. Make-up artists and stage prompters in Hollywood make better money per movie than our highest ranked stars. So don't you go "kyere-ing" your skin on me and telling me that you are a star. Chances are that I make more money than you, I live in a better house and I most likely eat better.  If I go to Aunty Muni, I can bet my last pesewa that I can see at least 3 stars coming in to buy waakye or even sitting down to eat on the benches like the rest of us. Not because they want to mingle with the common folk, it is because they are just a common a folk like every other common folk!

I’ve seen models, tv and radio presenters there on countless occasions. It’s the truth guys. What’s in a star if you’re wherever the common man is? Like the stars up above, there are only 2 ways to get to them; 1. I must become one of them. 2. I must have enough money to go into space and then perhaps I can be within 100 feet or more from one.

So my advice to them, is that until they can pay for the latest Lambourgini in cash, or live in a million dollar home, they should all get off their high horses and get their heads seriously in the game. Until Ghanaians find the need to create a celebrity inspired shopping arcade, or a celebrity inspired hair salon, where it cost $100 and over for a hair cut/do; until there’s a restaurant so pricey that each meal could pay for your rent; until we get paparazzi who follow our camouflaged stars from place to place, then please forget it.

I’m sure Essien and his buddies don’t feel that buzz that comes along with being a celebrity the moment they step through Kotoka International. Ghana has a way of stripping you off your star status. Tell me, which of our stars would you die to have an autograph of? Which of them would you step out in the rain to catch a glimpse of?

Most of the faces on our TVs sit with us in trotros, drive decade old cars and shop from Gap like the rest of us. If Rihanna were to step in one of Accra’s clubs right now, you’ll see the crowd around her. If MzBel stepped right next door in Togo or Burkina Faso, they’ll only take note of her ‘cos she might not be wearing the traditional outfit of the Burkinabes. Apart from that, she’s as common a person as the dirt in the sand to them. While I'm on that topic, please, and I really mean it, please, let's refrain from referring to Ghanaian songstresses as DIVAs.

Definition of DIVA

n., pl., -vas, or -ve (-vā).

1. An operatic prima donna.


2. A very successful singer of nonoperatic music: a jazz diva)

Examples are Anastacia, Whoopi Goldberg, Beyonce, Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, Sarah Brightman, Mariah Carey, Belinda Carlisle, Cher, Natalie Cole, Deborah Cox, Céline Dion, Judy Garland, Kathryn Grayson, Kathy Griffin, Deborah Harry, Billie Holiday, Gloria Estefan, Lena Horne, Whitney Houston, Chaka Khan, Gladys Knight, Jennifer Lopez, Patti LuPone, Madonna, Liza Minnelli, Kylie Minogue, Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Dalida, Donna Summer, Tina Turner, Vanessa Williams, TAFKA Ally and a few others.

[caption id="attachment_169" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="Patti Labelle, a true diva"][/caption]

According to the above stated definition, the only Ghanaian songstress I know who comes close to Diva is Bibie Brew. I think people like Patti Labelle, Anita Baker, Barbara Streissand, Aaliyah, would have a fit if you put them in the same category as MzBel and Mimi. I'll leave it there for now.

Off the cuff, name any Ghanaian who can step into almost any country and perform in front of a teeming crowd. And I'm not talking about the Ghanaian community in that country.

If you think you are a star and walk around in Ghana acting all star-like, remember that you're simply a well-known, under paid entertainer. Take this from me, if you walk around with a chip on your shoulder because people see you and recognize you, clip off those wings. The journey to a fully fledged entertainment industry is one of a million miles. And we are barely 5 steps into it. I don't care what anyone says, until our artistes wear $20,000 outfits per performance and not repeat Accra shada at shows in Kumasi or Takoradi I still maintain that there are no stars in Ghana, only entertainers. M'aka m'aka!

Ras Winnie

Today, I had a very interesting moment in traffic. It had to do with my hair.

Ever since I started wearing my hair natural, I've had several comments from people: friends and foe alike. For those of you who know me, I have dreads not for any religious reasons or beliefs but simply for the fact that that was the only way I could wear my hair natural without having to wrestle with a hair dryer.

I'm not rastafarian, although my rastafarian friends believe that I possess some "root" characteristics.

Very often I'd have what I term "the nod" from my rastafarian brethren. Some even attempt to speak Patois with me. They only realize halfway that I'm absolutely clueless and then decide to switch to a more comprehensible language. Rastafarians intrigue me. The way they walk, dress, talk. It's the pounded fist greeting (thats the  right hand out streched in salute style only it goes to the heart instead of the side of the head), which I personally think is very hygienic; or the thumping of the chest; perhaps its just that they call their women Empress. Whatever it is, I just think that true Rastas are cool. Just the way they are fascinates me and I don't mind them thinking that I'm worthy of their association/company.

[caption id="attachment_164" align="aligncenter" width="350" caption="i-Man"][/caption]

Because I don't wear make up and sometimes prefer to wear native sandals when I'm out, I usually get mistaken for a Rasta Woman. Most people who don't know me well describe me as the Rasta Woman and that's ok by me. Quite a few of my friends call me Ras Winnie anyways. Frankly over the past 7 years of having dreads, my hair has had more attention than myself. When I started, people would look at my hair rather than my face when they were talking to me. It annoyed me, but soon enough, it became a great icebreaker for many a wholesome conversation. And now, I don't mind the attention.

This afternoon's incident was one of such Ras-moments on the streets of Osu. I was driving towards the stadium and as I cracked my knuckles (a very bad habit) on the steering wheel I accidentally honked my horn, attracting the attention of a rastaman who sold electronics along the Kingdom Books Stationery road. They guy quickly looked up and waved at me. Then he walked up to the car and motioned me to roll down the window and gives me a very big smile. Then the smile goes down just as suddenly as the it came up. He had mistaken me for someone else. Just as he was apologizing for the mishap, he looked at my hair and asked if my hair was "a natural dread" as he put it. I said yes, then the smile got wider. Then the traffic signals hit green so I had to move. Lucky for him, the signal turned red just before I could cross. I looked in my rear view mirror and there was Ras-(I forgot his name) running after the car.

He stopped by the car and asked my name. I said "Yaa" and then he beams through the knotted beard and says "Empress Yaa". That just made my day! I laughed and immediately, he switched to Patois mode. In my head, I'm like "dude, I don't get a word of what you saying"; but on my face, I had a smile. I mumbled something in response and just then the lights turned green for go. He pounded his heart with his fist, smiled under the hot Osu sun and waved goodbye to his newly found Empress...or something like that. It's difficult to make up a fairy tale that involves two rastafarians in the middle of the scorching sun in Osu.

That I believe was the highlight of my day. Yours maybe the coconut seller or even the guy who sells rat poison. Whatever the case, we all have things that intrigue us and things that makes us smile. All I want to say is that, let's enjoy those moments as best as we can. That might just be the highlight of their day too.

One love, peace and Jah Bless.

The Truth About Taxis II !!!

So I’m back, as promised, with my next post on the Truth About Taxis titled ... guess ... guess again ... The Truth About Taxis II!!!

I know, I know, riveting. I can’t wait to see what I write and how you feel after you read it. Just so you know, this has taken years of observation and decades of research; so please, by all means try this at home, or on the street, whichever you prefer.

Now, almost everyone has sat in a taxi or at least seen a taxi either on the street or parked under a tree somewhere. But before I go on, I would like you all to note that this isn't a lecture and this paper is not examinable. I’m simply to share the wisdom that comes ever so freely to me. As such, take this just as a few pointers to keep in mind when dealing with taxis: whether it is taking one or driving around one.

Point One - Always be ready to bargain. When you stop a taxi, describe your destination as well as you can, as fast as you can. This confuses the driver, if he’s wise, he’ll ask you again and then you would have to take it slowly. Thankfully, most taxi drivers will not be smart enough to know what game you are up to. So chances are, they’ll say they know and then quote a ridiculously high price, which you should drop down by at least ¢3. When they refuse, tell them that it is OK and that you’ll wait for another taxi. Step away from the vehicle and proceed to look towards oncoming traffic for another taxi. If you are lucky, he’ll signal you with his hand, flapping it gently towards himself gently, indicating you to hop in.

CAUTION: don’t look too excited by your victory, remain cool and sit in the car. If he drives away, try the same procedure with the next taxi. There’s a 90% chance of you getting away with this.


Point Two - If you have an accent lose it! Be as "local" as possible. Anything that might give you away as sounding, looking or being foreign has to go! If by any chance you are with an “obroni”/”oyibo”, it is best to keep them out of sight until you have bargained with the taxi driver on the fare he wishes to charge you. The slightest hint of “foreign-ticity” will result in a 100% increase in fare charges.

Point Three - Never hire a taxi that’s parked at a taxi rank. Most station based taxi drivers like to argue a lot and are generally “too-known”. They also charge at least 50% more than the usual fare.

Point Four (very important point) - If you have to go to a traffic prone area in a taxi, before you bargain with the taxi driver for a good fare, be emphatic that at that time of the day there’s no traffic. Proceed to indicate what times of the day and for what reasons traffic builds up in those places. Assure him that there will be no traffic at that time and pray that it is as you say. However, when you do meet a traffic jam, act surprised and start looking at your watch every second. Then tell the driver that you are absolutely shocked that there is so much traffic here. Talk endlessly about how it is impossible to predict traffic situations lately and how the government must construct more roads. You can also divert his attention to a policeman standing close by (assuming there is a policeman close by) and say how sad it is that they extort so much money from poor taxi drivers.

A suitable alternative is to talk about politics and how we need a president who will make the lives of every one better by reducing fuel prices. The purpose of this is to endear pity and to make him know that you are suffering in life just as much as he is even if you. He’ll forgive you and forget all about the traffic jam you’ve put him. In effect, sympathize with him. But be careful of those “experienced and hardened drivers” who know all these tricks. With them you may have to make a phone call to a close friend or relative and talk about the pressures of work over the phone. Darn if you don’t have credit on your phone that day!

Point Five - Never take a Tico if you have to go someplace important. Arriving in a Tico strips you of your status. Ticos are not the best choice if you want to make a good impression on people. For some reason, even the newest Tico taxi looks cheap, and as a result, charge cheaper than other taxis. Research into the Tico phenomenon is still ongoing. One thing I know however is that they are the preferred choice in the mountainous regions.

Point Six - Never stop a taxi that’s driving in the opposite direction from where you want to go. More often than not, the taxi drivers will charge you about 40% more than those going in the direction you are headed. I suppose the surcharge comes from turning the vehicle around.

Point Seven - If you are driving behind an empty taxi, chances are that you’ll be driving at no more than 30kmph. Reason is, they are on the look out for passengers and every pedestrian along the road way will receive a hoot and a honk.

Point Eight - For no apparent reason, a taxi driver will take out a duster and wipe his dashboard. Other times, he might simply buy sachet water from the nearest vendor and use it to wipe his windscreen. Don’t ask the obvious question that comes to your mind.




Point Nine - At night be prepared to be blinded by the highlights of the taxi driver. Several Taxi drivers have not firmly grasped the concept of when and how to use their highlights.

Point Ten - Make a taxi driver friend. It is as handy as a hammer in a toolbox. You’ll know when you get there.

There you have it, Ten (10) Truths about Taxis. This should keep you occupied for a while. Below, I have put together a 5 general tips for the inexperienced driver in town.

1. Never drive behind or on the side of a cargo truck. You never know when their brakes will fail or the cargo their carrying will decide to tip over.


2. Before you decide to jump a red light, look left, look right and look before you for any amber clothed individual. There just might be some “baby/zoom lion police” waiting to hop into your car and take your last penny.


3. Watch out for young ladies in posh cars, their driving skills are generally worse than taxi drivers.


4. For reasons I can’t explain on this here blog, just don’t drive at Circle or Kaneshie if you’ve been driving for less than 6 months!


5. Expect to be cut-off by reckless drivers on the road trying to change to the faster lanes. You’ll be lucky to have a wave of the hand or a flash of the hazard light as a way of asking for forgiveness. If you honk your horn at them, you’ll get more than a wave. One of these days, I will dedicate a blog post to the illustrate road-hand-signs they don’t teach you in driving school.

While you guys chew on this, I shall be patiently waiting for the day that we will ride limo-cabs in Ghana and have suited-up chauffeurs for drivers.

THE TRUTH ABOUT TAXIS I

Does anyone know how taxis came to be? And why they are called taxis in the first place? Do we know why they chose to identify taxis with those multicoloured patches instead of going for a monotone? Why do we wait until cars are completely run down before we convert them into taxis and why do they have all these “poetic”, often misspelled and misunderstood writings on them? All these we may never know. However, there are a few things that we do know about taxis and I am here to share them with you.

Let’s start with the word “Taxi” itself: what does it mean? I’ve done some research and it turns out that the word taxi is short for taxicab, which in itself is a contraction of “taximeter cabriolet”. (Cabriolet is a type of a horse-drawn carriage). The word, as the brilliant ones amongst you may have figured out already, is originally French. But I won’t bore you anymore with the etymology of the word taxi.

[caption id="attachment_153" align="aligncenter" width="495" caption="New York Taxi"][/caption]

The use of taxis started way back in Rome, in the 1800s. Then it moved into the US, Canada and it trickled to downtown Ghana, Africa. And that’s where the story gets interesting.

By the way, did you know that the colour yellow is the colour most easily seen from a distance? So says Wikipedia.

Let’s come to Ghana where taxis are coloured in combinations of blue+yellow+black or orange+brown+green and several other intriguing combinations. Besides the colour codes they come in, there is a lot to learn about them.

Take for instance the writings on them. The other day I drove past a parked taxi, which proclaimed in bold lettering; “GOD IS MY SEATBELT”. Frankly, that statement left me dazed for a minute, maybe two. Did it mean that because God was his seatbelt, he wasn’t going to wear any; or was that statement to day that whether or not he wore a seatbelt God would keep him safe from any accidents? What about your passengers? Is God their seatbelt too? There are many ways you can debate on this statement. I could write a whole thesis on this. Trust me. Does anyone know whether these “taxi quotes” are the mantras of the car owners or the philosophies by which taxi drivers live? Imagine being crossed by a taxi with the quote “NO HURRY IN LIFE” written across it. Yeah, I know.

[caption id="attachment_156" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="taxi"][/caption]

There’s a certain culture with taxi drivers.  They spend almost all their time on the road that they believe they live on the road corridor and as such everyone else must bow in their presence and give them way. You know what I mean: zigzagging across lanes, stopping abruptly to pick up passengers, slowing down at junctions to peering down to sight potential passengers…the list could go on.

I sat in a taxi the other day and the driver went no more than 50kmph the whole time. I promise! So I asked him in Twi, “can’t your car go any faster? He replied, saying that if he went any faster, he would burn more fuel. Like hell you will. With that reply, I couldn’t ask any further questions. I didn’t want his car to jerk itself to a stop in the middle of the journey and be stranded along the side of the road.  So I sat in there quietly like a good girl until I got to my destination 20 minutes late for my appointment.



When it comes to taxi traffic talk (language), taxi drivers have a complete set of unique gestures; there’s one for when you don’t give them the chance to cut in front of you in a logjam; there’s one for when you honk at them to drive faster (this is when they are on the prowl for passengers); there’s another one for when they meet a fellow taxi driver; there are also a few gestures that you would rather not have them make at you. I have no doubt that you get this often. They cross you in traffic unexpectedly and when you honk your horn at them, they simply throw their hand out of the window as though you were a fly they were trying to swat. It is, if nothing at all, the most annoying hand movement in traffic.

I pray, I sincerely do pray that the next time a taxi driver throws out his hand out his window after a display of ignorance of traffic rules, oh I pray, that his hand gets chopped off! I’m serious.

The gesture is slightly different with most private car drivers. They simply wave at you as though that is enough to have prevented a near accident.

I will be back with my next post with some more info on a few things to note when dealing with taxis; either as a driver or passenger in a taxi.

RATIONING EMOTIONS

People see emotions as a renewable resource. Mine isn’t. As such I ration my emotions as much as possible. I need to be able to put a stopper to unusual happiness, unscheduled shocks and inconsequential tear shedding. The older I grow, the more I find the need to be able to master my emotions. And the best way to do so, according to my theory, albeit twisted, is to consider your emotions as non-renewable. Like a depleting forest, or the thinning grass or a receeding hair-line, electricity from ECG, water in our pipeline etc. emotions have to be properly allocated. Like fuel in a taxi driver's tank, sometimes I put my emotions in free gear; the only direction is forward. It means that for a period of time, no matter what emotional obstacle I meet, I’m going to respond with the same expression as I had before that period. Allow me to explain.

[caption id="attachment_146" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="from left to right: Jack of Diamonds, Queen of Spades, Kings of Heart and Ace of Spades"][/caption]

Picture your emotions as a deck of cards. See the Ace of each suit as the highest attainable emotion you could ever achieve – ecstacy, extreme depression, raging anger, uncontrollable joy. The Kings, are reserved for close friends and family, Queen for people you respect i.e your boss, or superior at work; the Jack for your peers and the remaining ones for a few fake moments when you are required to show some form of emotion that doesn’t come naturally. Now you don’t want to run out of emotions before the end of play. It’ll be like pulling out a Joker when you really need a Queen of emotion at that moment. Jokers are used for any of those awkward moments when you’re not sure whether to weep, laugh, or sing for joy. They are very tricky cards to pull and as such can only be used effectively by the very sophisticated or advanced user. The remaining numbered cards are for things like admiration, confusion, dismay and any of those 3^rd grade emotions that don’t require too much energy.

Or you can decide to tag each emotion with a specific suit. Spades for unhappy moments such as anger, frustration, fear, depression, disappointment. Hearts for all happy moments like joy, peace of mind, victory and perhaps love. The suit of Clubs could represent revenge and the Diamond suit could stand for anything to do with money. I will explain this into further details in my book.

I don’t get it when most girls waste tears on needless things like a broken artificial nail; or when guys expend so much energy watching a game of football or soccer. I find it very nonsensical. There are better things to spend your emotions on. So take this as a note of caution: Next time you are tempted to expend your emotions irrationally, remember this post and use it wisely!

make-up shake up

Those who know me know that I don’t do make-up, wear dresses, tweeze my eyebrows, hate high heels or sing in a high pitched voice. It’s not me. Sadly, this has been the case since I was a toddler. Occasionally, my parents would put me in a dress; this included kaba and slit, “3 sisters” and a few others. All those moments have been captured on film and I will release it sometime in the future when I write my biography. As I didn’t have a choice as a child, I wore them. The only things I could do was to act defeated and my mum, God bless that woman, knew that something was up. She noticed the change in demeanour and never quite bothered me with dresses or skirts any more after I was 9. Friends and family who thought they were being nice and bought me dresses for my birthday and such other occassions did me wrong, but they didn’t know it.

All my life, I can literally count the number of times I’ve worn a full dress or matched a skirts with a top. It’s a rare occasion which involves days of planning and psyching myself up. I have an older sister who adores dresses and has a wardrobe full of dresses of all colours and a dressing table overflowing with make up kits.

When in secondary school, I wore a skirt once and by the time I went from my house to the dining hall, half the school had already heard the momentous occasion that had befallen them. I think my entire class was made to stand on their tables because they were making so much noise during Prep hour. I, on the other hand sat at my desk, even though I couldn’t study the entire period. So in short, wearing a dress is a big deal for me. For one, they are uncomfortable to wear. And when you wear them you have to sit in a particular way as you don’t want to reveal certain private areas. Second you can’t walk as you naturally can, especially in high heels, which obviously leave you helpless in the hands of gravity, making you prone to spilling over.

[caption id="attachment_142" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="Why would any body want to wear this?"][/caption]

While in the university, I wore a skirt and top, all of 2 times of was it 3? It was for matriculation and in my 3rd year for a faculty dinner. And for the record, that weekend of the awards night, I was unwell and my best friend, coerced me into it. Had I been fit, I would have wriggled myself out of the situation. Growing up didn’t change matters. I’m close to thirty now and do not own more than 5 dresses - 3 kaba & slits for family funerals and the other two for emergency situations.

Recently, a very good friend, she’s older, gave me make-up as a gift. She doesn’t know me that well so I pardoned her mistake. It was an assortment of Chanel lipglosses so it’s not that bad. Of course my sister had wanted to hijack it, but I didn’t let her. She usually wears my dresses when people buy them for me. My brothers on the other hand, go into my wardrobe when they have to go to a party and don’t have any clean clothes. I don’t mind. Soon after I got the lipglosses, my brothers came into my room and saw the lipglosses on my table. They asked “who bought this for you?” I’m like, don’t you think I can buy my own make-up? They simply laughed and said; “just answer the question, who bought you this make-up?” I refused to answer the question. So what am I saying? I’m simply saying that I am me. An uncut diamond. I present myself as naturally as I can and if you can’t take that, well I make no apologies for that. If you think I look ugly without it, fine, like it that way. When I decide to wear a skirt/dress, it is simply to gain attention and get the mood a little lively, and not to impress anyone. Simply just for kicks. It can almost be equated to wearing a costume for Halloween.

Rebel Poetry

Ok guys, thanks for hanging in there patiently since my last post, decades ago. So I'm giving my blog a little twist with a bit of poetry.

Please, enjoy. This one is still untitled, so please feel free make suggestions.

Simple things made great

Confusion set straight

Unbelief turned trust

Dawn into dusk

Smile into frown

Mime & a clown

Cats after mice

Judas betrays Christ

Bondage into freedom

Protection - use a condom

Together as one body

Alone as nobody

Numb to your beating

Dumb - has no meaning

Lamb, please no bleating

Mum, no speaking

Guilty! There's no pleading

Ashamed yet proud

Blind but seeing

Applause, then a bow