Hunger Pangs (Random Rumblings)

26 Apr

Image from http://lasvegasblog.harrahs.comHUNGER PANGS

Hunger pangs (definition)
The stubborn, piercing ache that you feel when you are trying so hard to forget that you forgot that you were hungry.

The signal your brain stealthily transmits to your stomach to let you know that class is not going to be very effective until you submit to the urge to devour something.

The niggling voice constantly reminding you of the things you wish to do but know you shouldn’t–especially when you are having the least fun doing what you should.

Symptoms: Acute pain, groans, face contortions, restlessness, belly hugging, short temperedness and envy.

Treatment: –Food, laughter, self-entertainment, several doses of faith (yes, the religious kind is       included)
— Avoid self-pitying music.

*Disclaimer: Depends on the type of hunger pangs. There is no ‘one fits all’ solution.

The Not So Complex Complexity of Hunger Pangs

Here it goes:
Think about the words: Hunger. Pangs. Note how it just so happens to be plural.
Whoever started saying that phrase had it right on point. Hunger pangs always come in multiples. Always.

Take for instance, me. There I was minding my own business when all of a sudden, my stomach decided that it felt like having a little romp at my expense. With no warning, it wickedly began rumbling and vibrating like I hadn’t eaten in 40 years.

Now my brain, affected by peer pressure, decides to join in. First, it whispers to me that I’m hungry. Then, it tells me that I am not. When I begin to forget the confusion, my brain and my body start playing tag. Intermediately one rumbles and the other screams, “Food! Food! You need food!”

At this point, I know I’m done for: there is no way I can stand up to this invisible, invincible pair. I look at the lecturer and try to concentrate but I know in my gut that the distraction I chose will have an epic fail. Then I begin to squirm. Mentally, I’m searching my archives for something that will let the niggling go away. That’s when it happens.

In trying to place exactly what topic the lecturer is energetically going on about, I suddenly remember that I believed I had no affinity towards the subject I’m studying at the moment. I begin to question whether that belief has changed. Almost immediately, my mind treacherously reminds me of the course I wish I were doing. At that exact moment too, my stomach pipes in and the ache increases.

Hunger pangs. Gotta love ‘em.


Death In Me

8 Oct

Picture Posted by itsarevolution

I felt the pounding of the yam// Deep, deep down in my bones

I know the pistil is doing me harm// When my body creaks in hushed tones.

I’ve seen the fire start// Watched the embers glowing

I taste the burn in my heart// As my pain continues growing.

I hear the pepper grinding// And it turns my mind to mush

I see the red so blinding// Staining my soul in a rush.

I cry when the onions are sliced// And when the rice husks are blown

I shouldn’t have been enticed// But I was– and now I’m alone.

I brought the fire// I gave the wood

I took their lives// And now, nothing stood.

I made the knife that stabs me so

I caused the pain and now it won’t go.

It was me, the Earth// I am my own death.


8 Oct



5 Oct

On the edge of the Kejetia Market

It’s always summer in Ghana.

Today, it seems the Sun had a vicious argument with the clouds and is determined to make every one under the sky suffer its wrath. And this is the day we chose to go to the market. With market women calling out terms of endearment, I have to be extra vigilant and agile lest one of the loaded basins of the head porters wacks me in the head. In this market, right now, I believe every community in Ghana is represented. After 54 years of Independence, my country has weathered many storms: Coup d’etats,droughts and famines but it is yet to overcome one thing- Ethnocentrism.

From the Radio Stations to the man on the street,ethnic sentiments can be heard any and everywhere. Ashantis are called proud, Fantis are proclaimed extravagant and Gas are christened violent and argumentative. I have often heard tell of parents who have warned my coursemates against befriending people from the Ewe tribe as they are believed to be vindictive and avid users of African Magic; popularly called ‘juju’. For each one of the estimated eighty-eight tribes in Ghana, there is a defining trait and each group believes it is in some way superior to the next. Individuals display tendencies of partiality towards tribesmen. It was quite interesting to note,for instance, that entire regionns voted for candidates based on their Ethnic affiliations in the 2008 General Elections.

Outside the shores of Ghana, Ethnocentrism has mutated into Racial Discrimination. Citizens of the world have been colour co-ordinated like laundry and sectionned into groups: White, Black, Yellow, Red and Brown. Any individual who is a mixture of any combination of races might be said to have ‘diluted blood’. According to some folk, the only thing they “like integrated is coffee.”

I believe that under no circumstances should any individual’s liberties be limited on the basis of colour. The incidences in the past where signs were posted saying, “No dogs or Chinese allowed” should be looked at with the shame they deserve– as should those who erect all sorts of mental barriers against those different from themselves. Like the child of Asian immigrants to America who went into the colour-coded game of “Salt and Pepper”,played with passion and left the basketball court with the game renamed “Salt, Pepper and Spice”, people should be allowed to break into the mould of a foreign culture.Everyone should have the freedom to make a name for their self– one that is not defined by race but by passion and skill.

Removing Racial Discrimination is not the same as eliminating pride in your Heritage. I am proudly Fanti, proudly Ghanaian and proud to be African. Yet I am not enthused with having my entire personality and dreams classified under any one category or Ethnicity. Martin Luther King had a dream, and so have I– that one day I will not be judged by the colour of my skin, the flatness of my nose or the size of my eye, but by the content of my character. I dream of exposing the doublespeak of calling for equality but denying others the same. I dream of being seen as the unique individual I am: the girl who writes; the one who dances; the bookworm who manages to be extroverted; the girl who loves junk food and vegetables in equal measure; the one who sees a future not defined by colour. I have a dream