Tag: Edwin Abanga

In this article dubbed the “Good old Days”, a student journalist recounts the nostalgia from old. He reminds readers of the fun games that made the childhood of most Ghanaians exciting. The Good Old Days is a journey that takes you through the intricate friendships and support that govern societal living. It draws the inner child in every reader whilst drawing their attention to the contrast of now and yesteryear. Take a dive into something that will make you smile and call old old friends. It is the Good Old Days by Edwin Abanga.

Good old days – bambam

A group of children huddled together in a circle, in the middle of the untarred road clapping and slapping their bare hands over their thighs as they sang their hearts out merrily and played;

“bam bambambalika

baaambaambambaalika

bambaambambalika,
have you seen your friend

shakeyshakey shake your body,

shakeyshakey shake your body,

shakeyshakey shake your body have you seen your friend”.

Not everyone could participate

The younger kids who were not allowed to join the park for the sheer childhood reason of being “underage” satisfied themselves by dividing themselves into two different groups and played “Police and Thief”. Each player secured a stalk from a pawpaw tree, broke awake the leafy end and used it as a Pump Action gun affectionately called “Kafungbe” among the kids.

The better skilled kids divided the stalk into several uneven parts and joined them together by inserting broomsticks into them; it was done so dexterously that it easily passed for a pistol.
Though there were little less than fifteen children in all, the noise they made out of their sheer ecstasy was as thunderous as that of a hundred kids.

The lone wolf

Kwabena Kwakye, the only albino in the park, was unfortunately the most teased kid. He was teasingly called “anopasaman” which meant, “ghost of the morning”. He joined his peers in playing “Police and Thief” but he was the worst player in the “Thief group”. His light skin color always betrayed his tactics; he was easily spotted from far, arrested and put in an imaginary prison.

Among the lot, Boi bi Boi was the most annoying; he would often run home and get everybody searching till night came, only to be found eating in his mother’s kitchen. The kids, boys and girls alike, will come together after supper in what was like their “court” and discuss what happened at school and whose teacher was the wicked and talk about all the childhood fantasies. Often times they unanimously agree to suspend Boi bi Boi from the play group for ruining their fun, but that little chubby boy always found his way back into the play group, especially when he came around with his black and white case five football.

The thinking Child

The children played, except Abdul-Jaleel. He was seated at one corner with his chin cupped in his palm. He was a very lively lad and was always found in the playgroup, so it was strange to find Abdul-Jaleel sitting alone like he did today. His face looked pale and very unhappy. Kwabena Kwakye was the first to notice Abdul-Jaleel.
“Why are you not playing Jaleel?” he asked.
“I don’t feel like playing” was the curt response.
“But why?” he asked again.
“Kwakye koraa I am hungry don’t disturb me aah!”
“Why don’t you tell your mom you are hungry, have you done something wrong at home?” Kwakye asked again.

There was a Kwakye in the Good Old Days

Kwabena Kwakye was a very warm lad and fond of asking many questions like the rest of his play mates, wanting to find the “why” and “what” of everything he came across.
“If I were you, Kwakye added, I would ask Auntie Yaa for Gari and soak it and drink”.

Abdul-Jaleel shot a quick look at Kwakye like he had given him the answer to Hercules’ riddle. He got up and run to Auntie Yaa, the old lady who runs the grocery store. She was so loving and gave to the kids so freely, they all loved her, not just for the gifts but for also saving them anytime they run into some trouble and were to be beaten at home. She was their source of “salvation “.

Soorebia @ Kimakinna Concert 2016 (youtube.com)

Breaking the rules in the Good Old Days

Abdul Jaleel knew it was the month of Ramadan and was not supposed to be eating until noon as his father had instructed but he just couldn’t stand the desire to taste food not to mention the pangs of hunger that drummed in his belly. Abdul-Jaleel’s father had resorted to having him fast up to noon because of his age but that mischievous little boy had his own way outside the home.

He got what he wanted from Auntie Yaa who added some sugar and groundnut to accompany the mixture. “You will not be part of this year’s Salah celebration, Jaleel”, Auntie Yaa warned teasingly. But Jaleel was way gone with the Gari soakings, he knew he was safe so long as nobody reported to his Mom or Dad, he only had to tell a white lie and he would be gone with it.

“I feel good!” he jumped up after finishing the giant cup of Gari soakings. Auntie Yaa smiled as he watched the young lad, it gave her joy to see little children beam with happiness. Jaleel run off quickly to join the rest of his friend on the street to play. Those were the good old days.

Written by Edwin Abanga, 0249475585 (student journalist)

Mankind is destined to control and be controlled; in doing that, we encounter what can be described as a necessary evil or otherwise. In this article, Edwin Abanga takes us through his daily struggle as a young man in Accra. This is an encounter with a Necessary Evil.

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Encountering the Necessary Evil

Globules of sweat streamed down my face as I stood sandwiched between several other passengers who had missed the opportunity to catch a seat and had resorted to standing in the full to capacity “Kuffuor bus”

I grabbed the single bar that run above my head firmly with my right hand as the bus snailed its way through the long winding traffic.  Very few buses plied the route especially during the “rush hour” so the few that passed got flooded with passengers.

Times have changed, in the past, younger folks who had secured seats would readily offer their seats to older passengers, not to mention a neatly dressed smart looking young man, handsomely adorned in a perfectly pressed crispy white shirt that could easily mirror the reflection of one’s face.

The pair of black trousers I wore to match my perfect white shirt was “on point”, I had also not forgotten to cement my good looks with a tinge of Alvin Dior perfume.  The only absent thing here was a smile. I was beaming with smiles earlier, knowing how essential it was for my personality, but the light of smiles was taken away the moment the bus moved and people begun to rub their body against mine. I feared for the fate of my shirt.

I fetched a handkerchief from my pocket to rub the beads of sweat that had gathered across my forehead.

Then suddenly there was a queer rumble in my stomach, I doubted its potency and overlooked it, but the next two rumbles put me on red alert.

I squeezed my butt tighter to contain “the evil”, it appeared to be a fruitless fight but I dare not give up. I had tried for long and I had reached my breaking so I decided to allow it out at least in bits.

I positioned myself strategically, putting one foot ahead of the other. Looking away, I released my grasp and allowed it to descend gracefully. It felt hot and highly flammable as it passed. I knew I had made an evil decision but it was very necessary considering the situation.

Indeed, It’s a Necessary Evil

In the next few seconds “my evil” had diffused into the bus, and people had begun reacting to it, shaking their head in disapproval, and covering their noses. I pulled out a white handkerchief from my breast pocket and covered my nose with it just not to draw suspicion to myself, at the same time listening to the many curses that were being rained on the evil one who had done that.

Silently in my thoughts, I pondered, “Not all wrongs are evil, some are necessary evils”

By:Edwin Abanga

Email: eabanga21@gmail.com

Facebook: Edwin Abanga

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