tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50281229194775022682024-03-17T00:01:50.603+00:00DENTAAWe all can't be professional writers; we all can't have our own newspaper columns. This right here is my space. I get to be my own writer and editor and everyone else will just have to settle to be my critic.Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-2126278455658320312021-07-13T14:35:00.001+00:002021-07-13T14:35:13.008+00:00Saved (Twice)<p>Sometime in 2018, I was heading to work when I heard this knocking sound. It was coming from my car but I couldn't tell which part of the car it was coming from. All I knew was the intensity of the sound reduced when I drove fast (matter of fact, the sound disappeared when I drove like a maniac) and increased when I drove very slowly.</p><p>I drove from Amasaman to Cantonments and got to work incident free. The only problem was the sound (or so I thought).</p><p>After work, I had to pick my mum up from my brother's place at Korle-Bu before heading home.</p><p>The sound was still there but at a point, even when I would drive like a maniac, the sound was still unbearable (I honestly thought the solution to my problem was to drive like I'd been cast in Fast and Furious).</p><p>And then I decided to park and do the most sensible thing since this thing (sound) started. I decided to look for a mechanic to check the car or at least check the car myself.</p><p>I'd got to the Black Star Square area so I looked for a bus stop, parked my car, and that was when my tyre fell off. Apparently, the front tyre at the driver's side was being held by one bolt. When I parked, the last bolt came off and the tyre fell off. Two guys were passing by my car when this happened. They stopped, stared open mouthed at the tyre, looked at me and said, "God loves you."</p><p><br /></p><p>Fast forward to 2021. I'm heading to church when I hear a knocking sound from my car. When I drive fast, the sound is barely audible. When I drive slow, the sound is unbearable. I am running late but from my 2018 experience, I park at a bus stop at Pokuase and I check all my tyres. All the bolts were in place so I figured it was another problem but since I was getting late and the car was working just fine, I decided I would have it looked at after church. I get onto the newly commissioned Pokuase Interchange and my driving would have had Vin Diesel wishing he could drive like me.</p><p>Somewhere on the Ablekuma road (church is in Dansoman and I was using the Ablekuma-Awoshie road) a taxi driver started honking behind me. I looked in my rear view mirror and wondered what was wrong. He kept honking and his honking seemed to be targeted at me. I kept driving (like a lunatic) until I got to a red light on the Awoshie road. Just as I was about to stop (with the knocking sound at an unbearable volume), the light turned green. I was just about to start accelerating when the taxi driver got close to me and it seemed he wanted to talk. I rolled down the passenger side window to listen and I heard him say something about my tyre. At this point, everyone behind us started honking. I had to move but now I was wondering, "could it be the 2018 thing repeating itself?" Thankfully, I got to another red light (the taxi was still following me). This time I heard everything he said. He told me to slow down because it looked like one of my back tyres was about to fall off. He said I should get to a safe place, park and have it checked. I thanked him and switched to the outer lane (oh yes! thus far I'd been in the speed lane).</p><p>But I was really running late and though I understood what was happening, the last time I checked, all the bolts were intact so I figured I had some more time before anything would happen (if anything would). I decided I'd get to church and then after church I would have the tyre checked. So I increased my speed (not to Fast and Furious levels but just a little bit) and then I heard someone honking. It was another taxi driver. This driver got next to me and was so livid. </p><p>"Are you crazy? Reduce your speed now. Your tyre is about to fall off", he screamed when he got close to me.</p><p>"Thank you but another driver already told me about my tyre", I said.</p><p>"And you're still driving like that? You must be out of your mind", he retorted while shaking his head.</p><p>Now I was very worried. Maybe my plan to have this thing checked after church wasn't a good idea. But it was Sunday morning and everyone I saw by the roadside was dressed on their way to church. Who could I get to help me? I reduced my speed to crawling levels and just before I got to Dansoman, I saw a vulcaniser. I parked and asked him to check the bolts on my back tyre. All the bolts were loose.</p><p>Saved by grace is all I can say!</p><p>God loves me too much!</p><p>The next time I hear a knocking sound while driving, I will stop and tighten the bolts on all four tyres myself!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-66035386477980666872020-10-26T13:10:00.009+00:002021-02-25T16:01:35.516+00:00Adventurous Dentaa<p> Yep, my first book definitely had to have my name on it 😁</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMq04f9iL0Ik0r65gLcSF6xn1r1uTBuYTDgaNxuWmaLQETuLcjovTkU0osEElcPGn6oEUwREIaVXEQ0M7uty9_eKdIz3R_Yl8y0zxhYRLH6xLctPqLcYB8SSU2LmVdHNIFNSfXbZcIA8/s720/IMG_-yxuhog.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMq04f9iL0Ik0r65gLcSF6xn1r1uTBuYTDgaNxuWmaLQETuLcjovTkU0osEElcPGn6oEUwREIaVXEQ0M7uty9_eKdIz3R_Yl8y0zxhYRLH6xLctPqLcYB8SSU2LmVdHNIFNSfXbZcIA8/s320/IMG_-yxuhog.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>From class trips, to exchange programmes, to concerts, to fully sponsored tours, this piece of nonfiction spans about 7 years in my life where I had the opportunity to visit 3 different countries: Burkina Faso, Canada and South Africa.</p><p>I believe there is a lesson to be learnt from every experience one goes through and that is what I share in this book: my experiences on these trips and the lessons I learnt from each.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLmm60ASJJlQVLN5y5rHiqqBmP0pz5nNP_hkigKUeXjm1hUefIjKd_xJ5F52d_9znsE34ojjARbZ0_dgB3-JiHdtI_Ji47JodTQ_uBBNZ6Q0mdvb6lZPPTBLjiFnJqk0HOgCpS_DvgJk/s884/IMG-20201006-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="884" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLmm60ASJJlQVLN5y5rHiqqBmP0pz5nNP_hkigKUeXjm1hUefIjKd_xJ5F52d_9znsE34ojjARbZ0_dgB3-JiHdtI_Ji47JodTQ_uBBNZ6Q0mdvb6lZPPTBLjiFnJqk0HOgCpS_DvgJk/w454-h364/IMG-20201006-WA0001.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Two things I believe in that come out in this book are, first, no matter how small or insignificant an experience seems, there is something to be learnt from it (<i>you just have to look for it and learn</i>).</p><p>Second, no matter how difficult, hard or annoying a situation is, there's a funny side to it (<i>again, you just have to look for it and have a good laugh</i>).</p><p>I learnt a lot from these trips; some, I didn't realise until years later. These lessons I believe can be applied to all facets of life, and I hope that in addition to having a good laugh, readers after turning the last page of this book will walk away having learnt a thing or two (<i>hopefully more</i>).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0f5dtOs4rQ_KY7y0utRi8jaRfdLh58EDSf3SlI46ekoC5bG0aPc2TVH3nSl9OHhvDxGpNvRMeb59jTEYN9A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-17752906631020350092019-06-27T17:29:00.000+00:002019-06-27T17:29:40.405+00:00Adventures in a Foreign Land - Yeeeees, Strawberries, Strawberries!<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">ROAD TRIP!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It’s 2009 and my class takes a trip to a
film festival in a neighbouring country by road. From Accra, through Kumasi,
Kintampo, sleeping over in Tamale, and continuing the journey the next day
through Paga (<i>and yes, we did have fun
with the crocodiles at Paga</i>), it was one uncomfortable journey, uncomfortable, yet fun!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The bus was small, every seat was occupied
(including the middle seats), journey was so loooooong, at a point it was more
comfortable sitting on the step near the door (we took turns sitting on that
step), and we never seemed to be getting to our destination. Did I add the road
was terrible? The road was terrible (<i>I
hear road’s much better now</i>), and oh, we had guests from New York University
(NYU) making the trip with us. Terrible road, long uncomfortable journey, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had on any
trip. I doubt we’d have enjoyed it as much had we gone by air. There’s
something about taking a road trip with your class that takes the crampiness
out of any crampy ride, the terror out of any terrible road and the dis out of
any discomfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I spent most of the time (<i>more like the entire journey</i>) taking
pictures of people sleeping (<i>yeah, I did share a couple on Facebook</i>). No, I did not sleep until we stopped over in
Tamale for fear that someone would do to me what I’d been doing to others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We get to our destination, the film
festival was awesome, but something else intrigued me. No, not the friendly crocodiles at Paga, but...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Strawberries!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This country is beyond the northern part
of Ghana, where if care is not taken, the skin gets so parched, cracked and
roasted (<i>literally</i>) by the sun and
yet strawberries are sold on head pans in traffic much like how oranges are
sold on the streets of Accra.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No, I couldn’t believe it (<i>and neither could my classmates</i>). We all
were of the opinion that strawberries are grown in temperate/colder climates,
and the fact that in Ghana we get strawberries only in some shops (<i>mostly at the malls</i>) and they are so
expensive and these were being sold on the street and were so cheap only meant
they had to be grown in that country (<i>which made no sense</i>).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Yes, my classmates (<i>not me</i>) bought truckloads (<i>definitely an exaggeration</i>) of the
strawberries, but there’s only so much a person can eat. By the time we got
back to Accra, most were rotten or near rotten.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Moral:</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
Not everything will make sense in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Enjoy nice things the moment they are available.
Don’t try prolonging the enjoyment. Quite a number of people (<i>again, not me</i>)<i> </i>ended up with
rotten strawberries by the time we got back to Accra.</span><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-46568195771613020242018-04-16T14:13:00.001+00:002018-04-16T14:13:27.928+00:00Kwaku Doe - The ComebackIt's been a little over 7 years since I started writing about Kwaku Doe. From first talking about him in my <a href="http://dentaa.blogspot.com/2011/03/plight-of-hungry-man-part-one.html" target="_blank">Plight of a Hungry Man</a> series to finally naming him and continuing the series as <a href="http://dentaa.blogspot.com/2011/04/return-of-kwaku-doe.html" target="_blank">Kwaku Doe</a>, I'd say I've spent a little over 2 years writing about him. The last time I wrote anything on Kwaku Doe was in 2013.<br />
<br />
The main reason I stopped is I changed the route I use to work, so I wasn't encountering him anymore. The other reason is I sort of lost interest in him.<br />
<br />
Well, last Friday, I was driving when some guy with locks came to my car at this traffic light asking for money. I shook my head and was about to look away when I thought there was something familiar about the guy. He had locks and a goatee (almost all grey), but there was no mistaking this person.<br />
KWAKU DOE!<br />
And he was begging at a traffic light on the other side of town, far from where I used to see him.<br />
<br />
So, if I started writing about him 7 years ago, my brother and I encountered him 4 years before I started writing about him, that means he has been begging for 11 years. Of course it would be well over 11 years (I'm sure the day my brother and I encountered him 11 years ago wasn't day 1 on the job for him).<br />
<br />
There are people in Ghana who live solely on alms? Like forever? They never work? Able bodied people?<br />
<br />
He was true to the Kwaku Doe I got to know 7 years ago though. His locks were neat, his goatee was well trimmed and shaped and as usual his clothes were tidy.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-59342344684737084362018-01-25T13:39:00.000+00:002018-01-25T13:45:43.826+00:00Making a Difference!There's a certain quirkiness about me that could be cute or annoying depending on how you look at it, but bottom-line, it is downright frustrating (especially for me).<br />
It is very frustrating when I won't leave the house unless I've laid my bed (regardless how late I am). It is very frustrating when I'm running late, but the hair brush is out of place and it just has to be in its place before I can leave. It is extremely frustrating when I walk by a mat (it could be anywhere; in my house, in someone's house, in my office, in someone's office, in a restaurant, at any random place) that's out of place and I just have to straighten it before I walk by. The few times I tell myself I'm being ridiculous (especially when the mat is in a place that's totally none of my business) and I walk on by, just when I'm about to go, "whoopee! I did it! I didn't do me", I turn around, walk back to the mat, straighten it, and slink away with an, 'oh-boy!-I-did-it-again' look on my face. Oh yes! I do get curious stares every now and then, but it's me! I explain it away to myself (and anyone who'll listen) as very (extremely very) mild OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I don't know about the disorder part, but I do know about the obsessive bit. And all that is not even half of it! I wash my hands minimum 30 times a day, I clean anything and every space I come in contact with before touching, breathing (seriously), and the list goes on and on. I won't get started on my use of hand sanitizers and disinfectant wipes. Suffice to say my room is so clean you could eat off the floor? But who does that (eat off the floor)? Sometimes, I do rebel and I'm the complete opposite of me! (not often enough though)<br />
<br />
Sometime about 2 weeks ago, I was driving around James Town when my car started to overheat. I got off the main road and parked on this football-like field, got out of the car and got some sachets of water from a nearby shop. I opened the hood and waited for the engine to cool. I then opened the radiator and emptied the water into it. With each sachet I used, I folded and put the empty sachet next to the windshield of my car. The sachets were done but the radiator wasn't full. Realising I needed more water, I removed the empty sachets, and was about to place them inside my car so that I drop them into the bin at home (I didn't see one around), when I heard, "sister, sister". I looked up and saw 2 women sitting at the other end of the field. They were both motioning with their hands, pointing to the ground. I was confused and didn't get what they were saying. I walked over, and one said I should drop the empty sachets on the ground, that the kids would come for them. I do know some people collect used plastic (especially empty water sachets) for the purposes of recycling (I believe they are paid for the plastic they turn in; the more plastic, the greater the payment), and I was willing to help, but I did not see how I could litter in the name of helping (or in the name of anything). I walked back to my car, picked up all the empty sachets, locked the car and handed them to one of the women. She thanked me and I moved to the shop to get more water. This time, the lady selling the water placed all the sachets I bought into a plastic bag.<br />
<br />
I emptied the water into my radiator. When it started to overflow, I poured the rest into the coolant tank. I put the empty sachets into the plastic bag, and delivered the bag and its contents to the ladies. I noticed the lady still held on to the initial stash I'd given her. She took the bag and added the first batch of sachets to it, thanked me while I said goodbye and left. I got into my car and drove off noticing that the lady still had the plastic bag in her hand. I won't be surprised though if she dropped everything as soon as I was out of sight, but at least, she was a good citizen for about 10 minutes because of me (or maybe she didn't drop it all when I was out of sight; I like to believe in the goodness of people; maybe, in those 10 minutes, she got to understand the folly of littering).<br />
Well, all I know is, that's how to make a difference (one empty sachet at a time); by putting up exemplar behaviours others can (have no choice but to) copy and make the world a better place!<br />
<br />
Yeah, I almost die every harmattan; the dust!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-88497433706307672602018-01-12T13:15:00.002+00:002018-01-12T13:15:45.165+00:00Messing with God's Plan<i>There is a way which seemeth right onto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.</i> <i>Proverbs 14:12 KJV</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I honestly don't know why there are times when a bright idea comes along, it's bright, but it can't be a good idea because carrying it out involves changing, touching, messing up something already in existence, something we had nothing to do with its creation, but it's a bright idea, so we go ahead with it.<br />
<br />
I came into contact with (by my estimation), the most hideous woman ever yesterday. While she spoke to me, I looked everywhere but at her. The thing was, I'd got myself into a bit of a jam and she was offering help (which I so terribly needed), but because looking at her was so painful, I looked everywhere but at her, and if she was offended, well, next time she has a bright idea, she should think it through before carrying it out.<br />
<br />
Rewind some 20, 15, 30 or maybe 40 years ago (her bright idea was so bad it makes figuring out when she had it that difficult), this woman, then a beautiful, young lady with a rich melanic skin; the kind that would make a curious child rub off on it and when the colour stayed put, they'd rub harder thinking whatever it was, was stuck too hard to the skin, and when it still wouldn't come off, the child would take a step back and look, really look, then and only then would they appreciate the beauty of what stood before them. Anyways, so this young woman had a light bulb moment. It was too much of a bother to have people go through the motions of wanting to rub off whatever they thought was on her skin, to finally stepping back and taking in the beauty, her beauty. She decided she'd just help them get to the appreciating her beauty quicker; who cares if they're acting like a curious child?<br />
<br />
Fast forward some 20, 15, 30 or maybe 40 years later, and here I stood before this woman. A woman who looked 100 years old, but she spoke with such verve, I knew she couldn't be a day over 40. Her willingness to help made me understand that though there are bad people in this world, there also are good people and it behove me to find those good people, but I couldn't get past her partly cooked, partly overdone and mostly burnt skin to appreciate that she is a woman who didn't know me, but was going out of her way to assist. With a grimace, I mumbled a "thank you" and hurried along hoping and praying I never, ever saw something (someone) as ghastly looking as this woman.<br />
<br />
When has bleaching ever been a good idea?<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-37920983406311627852017-12-23T15:25:00.001+00:002017-12-23T15:28:38.145+00:00Festival of PlaysThis Christmas...<br />
<br />
Roverman Productions Festival of Plays.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt1yTxqMzyBjpne39EWISET_xcyQ595gZCxh7spAodRn2wGMFGSo91t36dIvVumqsl-jwgyJC1tnTjcFU5RWrUXbeOEGjhkyV_7AM7BAqb_50p8CLSkvRDwmJzrMjy_vSTdVgZDeZz9o/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVt1yTxqMzyBjpne39EWISET_xcyQ595gZCxh7spAodRn2wGMFGSo91t36dIvVumqsl-jwgyJC1tnTjcFU5RWrUXbeOEGjhkyV_7AM7BAqb_50p8CLSkvRDwmJzrMjy_vSTdVgZDeZz9o/s400/me.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Featuring 5 of Ebo Whyte's finest plays.<br />
<br />
Saturday, December 23, 2017 - <a href="http://www.dentaa.blogspot.com/2017/06/damaged-goods.html" target="_blank">Damaged Goods</a><br />
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Sunday, December 24, 2017 - <a href="http://www.dentaa.blogspot.com/2017/03/blackmail.html" target="_blank">Blackmail</a><br />
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Monday, December 25, 2017 - <a href="http://www.dentaa.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-comeback.html" target="_blank">The Comeback</a><br />
<br />
Monday, January 1, 2018 - <a href="http://www.dentaa.blogspot.com/2017/11/nicholas.html" target="_blank">Nicholas</a><br />
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Tuesday, January 2, 2018 - <a href="http://www.dentaa.blogspot.com/2012/11/everyone-has-secret.html" target="_blank">Everyone Has a Secret</a><br />
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4 plays from 2017 and 1 play from 2012 will show at the <b>National Theatre</b> on <b>23rd</b>, <b>24th</b>, <b>25th</b> <b>December</b>, <b>1st</b> & <b>2nd</b> <b>January</b> at <b>4pm</b> and <b>8pm</b> each day. Tickets can be purchased from Joy FM; Shell Shops at Airport, Dansoman, Sakaman, Achimota & Tema Comm. 11; Baatsona & Haatso Total; Quick and Fine Supermarket opposite UPSA; Goil Shops at 37, Mile 7 & Sakaman; Frankies, Osu; Kpogas, Odorkor at <b>GH<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">¢</span>80.00</b> for a S<b>ingle Ticket</b> and <b>GH<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">¢</span>300.00</b> for a F<b>estival Pack</b>.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, tickets can be purchased via <b>flexiPAY</b> at a <b>10% Discount</b>.<br />
1. Search for flexiPAY on Google Play Store for Android and Apple App Store for IOS<br />
2. Download and install flexiPAY<br />
3. Signup with your details<br />
4. Login and buy tickets using Mobile Money, Visa or MasterCARD<br />
<br />
Hotline: <b>0505546010</b><br />
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This year, let's try this. Rather than the usual gift hampers filled mostly with consumables, which are consumed and long forgotten, how about getting a festival pack for loved ones, friends and clients? They'll thank you for it!<br />
Whenever a line from any of the plays is remembered, you'll definitely come to mind!<br />
<br />
I can't think of a better Christmas present than Roverman Productions Festival of Plays!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-31180752199336016192017-11-25T16:08:00.000+00:002017-11-25T16:22:48.515+00:00NICHOLAS!Roverman Productions in partnership with National Theatre & Joy FM presents:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NICHOLAS!</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3cCqG5jXUkaPBunirfo5pFWzTTawjEPQie31yOcWk5JSo_1-BR0CYziSVIoT83oqPQQjxs6CDcxQNJKVkRmFE2X3pn6kXGg9xSiiyLrr8BLDTfqmu5B3AZVAslhyZfK-A5_6-Wp7JJ0/s1600/IMG-20171112-WA0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3cCqG5jXUkaPBunirfo5pFWzTTawjEPQie31yOcWk5JSo_1-BR0CYziSVIoT83oqPQQjxs6CDcxQNJKVkRmFE2X3pn6kXGg9xSiiyLrr8BLDTfqmu5B3AZVAslhyZfK-A5_6-Wp7JJ0/s400/IMG-20171112-WA0011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
An Ebo Whyte play.<br />
<br />
Who is he that escapes the fire, refuses to drown, learns to read after entering college and defeats death at the very beginning?<br />
<b>NICHOLAS!</b><br />
<br />
James Ebo Whyte, tells the incredible story of one remarkable Ghanaian in a way that will have patrons gripping their seats in suspense, falling out of their seats with laughter and hiding under their seats in fear! Is that possible from watching one play?<br />
Oh yes it is!<br />
<br />
You will experience these emotions and more while watching <b>NICHOLAS!</b> at the <b>National Theatre</b> on <b>25th</b> & <b>26th November</b>, <b>2nd</b> & <b>3rd December</b> at <b>4pm</b> and <b>8pm</b> each day. Tickets can be purchased from Joy FM; Shell Shops at Airport, Dansoman, Sakaman, Achimota & Tema Comm. 11; Baatsona & Haatso Total; Quick and Fine Supermarket opposite UPSA; Goil Shops at 37, Mile 7 & Sakaman; Frankies, Osu; Kpogas, Odorkor at <b>GH<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "cherry cream soda"; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: "cherry cream soda";">¢</span></span>80.00</b>.<br />
<br />
When you were not supposed to be born, don't seem to be going anywhere in life, have been written off by everyone including yourself, is redemption even possible? How does a stark illiterate make it into and through college?<br />
<br />
<b>NICHOLAS!</b><br />
True story!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-73548794866769948232017-09-02T07:58:00.001+00:002017-09-02T11:08:55.599+00:00The ComeBackRoverman Productions in partnership with National Theatre & Joy FM present:<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b>The ComeBack</b></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuNZtgBJRa-jeXZwOspvHUX8LCxmDmzaZ_MF10hMTpyDQcHjozlETCjFZNVKxlxGPWjJ2Z5SlqWM2oGw94TFx7gcU30qxXhKwN8BTJAx4yOxRRNrx6pYB13YjN3o8ocqkRnJPIZNpYKo/s1600/RovFam+Bam%25F0%259F%25A4%25A0%25F0%259F%2599%258F%25F0%259F%258F%25BE+20170827_211813.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuNZtgBJRa-jeXZwOspvHUX8LCxmDmzaZ_MF10hMTpyDQcHjozlETCjFZNVKxlxGPWjJ2Z5SlqWM2oGw94TFx7gcU30qxXhKwN8BTJAx4yOxRRNrx6pYB13YjN3o8ocqkRnJPIZNpYKo/s400/RovFam+Bam%25F0%259F%25A4%25A0%25F0%259F%2599%258F%25F0%259F%258F%25BE+20170827_211813.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
An Ebo Whyte Play.<br />
<br />
Jojo, a seasoned international football player is forced into early retirement after a series of injuries render him unfit to continue playing for his football club in Italy. He comes back to Ghana knowing he has lost a lot, but also knowing he has so much waiting for him, or so he thought.<br />
<br />
The house and the business, <strike>he had</strike> thought he had, all turned out to be non existent. But how? He had sent money to his brother to see to the establishment of all this. How could his brother have built his house and set up his business on a waterway or water road as Jojo refers to it, and also have built a house for himself and set up the very same business for himself? Resigned to accept his fate, thinking he had a girlfriend to lean on and start over with, well, that too was taken away from him by this same brother.<br />
<br />
How does one come back, get back from such a betrayal?<br />
<br />
Find out on <b>2nd, 3rd, 9th & 10th September, 2017</b> at the <b>National Theatre</b>, <b>4pm</b> and <b>8pm</b> each day. Tickets can be purchased from Joy FM; Shell Shops at Airport, Dansoman, Sakaman, Achimota & Tema Comm. 11; Baatsona & Haatso Total; Quick and Fine Supermarket opposite UPS; Goil Shops at 37, Mile 7 & Sakaman; Frankies, Osu; Kpogas, Odorkor at <b>GH<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "cherry cream soda"; font-size: 16px;">¢</span>80.00</b>.<br />
<br />
Our elders have said a lot. As Africans, we pride ourselves and live our lives by what our elders have had to say. #thecomebackplay will enlighten us on so many other things our elders have said, which no one knows about except Jojo. He'll also tell us about how "God is a coffin" and how to "eat a plane on a flight".<br />
<br />
There are no seat belts attached to the seats at the National Theatre. How unfortunate, because you will fall out of your seats! In addition to cracked ribs, you will walk away knowing there is another option, a better one aside revenge after a betrayal.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-83012897485708639552017-07-05T13:05:00.000+00:002017-07-05T13:05:11.539+00:00I Am Because We Are - UbuntuThe story is told of an anthropologist who proposed a game to some South African tribal children.<br />
<br />
He placed a basket of sweets near a tree and made the children stand 100 metres away from the tree. He then announced that whoever is first to get to the basket would get all the sweets in it. At the sound of the whistle, all the children held hands and ran together towards the tree. They shared the sweets equally among themselves and happily ate them.<br />
Why did the children do this?<br />
"Ubuntu" - 'How can one be happy when the others are sad?' 'I am because we are.'<br />
<br />
Should I live to the biblically stated age of 3 score and 10, then in all my almost half life on God's green earth, I have not experienced anything of the sort.<br />
I would say someone point me in the direction of this place; I would so want to spend the other half of my life there, but first, let's replay the story.<br />
<br />
An anthropologist proposed a game to some adults.<br />
<br />
He placed a sack full of a couple of millions of US Dollars near a tree and made the adults stand 100 metres away from the tree. He then announced that whoever is first to get to the sack would get all the US Dollars in it. At the sound of the whistle, the adults took off, some pulling others down, some tripping others, those with weapons tried killing the others until finally, one, all bloodied, bruised and half limping made it to the tree.<br />
<br />
It's not the place. It's the subjects; children.<br />
<br />
Children inherently are wired to live according to the "ubuntu" philosophy. They play together, have fun together, are happy together; what's the point if the happiness is not shared? And then the adult factor takes over. The competitive adult. The adult who will play favourites. The adult who will pit one child against the other and let them feel the most important thing in the world is to be first. First in class, first in sports, first in everything.<br />
Of course, for the first position to exist, there has to be a last position. So basically, children are taught to succeed at the expense of others. Children are taught to be happy when others are sad.<br />
<br />
This anthropologist did the exact same thing. He tried to pit the children against each other by asking them to race to the tree; the first would get the basket of sweets. The children resisted and rebelled.<br />
<br />
When I was in high school, we wrote an exam at the end of each term. In the examination room, we were seated according to our positions in the previous exams. From the back of the exam room we sat, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, to the last in the front row. I honestly have no idea what that was meant to achieve, but in all my 3 years in high school, no one moved from the first row (last position) to the last row (first position). The only movements were to the left or right. These were no more than two steps. No one wanted to sit in the first row. Why should I help you when we are all fighting to not sit in the first row? I'd much rather help myself and myself only to remain in the last row (or closer to the last row).<br />
<br />
Thankfully, in the university, the system of ranking students did not exist. It was in the university that I experienced students helping each other out and forming study groups. If we all get a First Class, great; I do not have to fight you and make sure you don't get a First Class to ensure my First Class in ranked higher than yours.<br />
But, by this time, it really is already too late. Children, now young adults, have the spirit of competition and succeeding at the expense of the other person ingrained in them.<br />
<br />
'I am because we are.'<br />
It is difficult, next to impossible to write a paragraph illustrating this statement. I doubt I know what it looks like.<br />
<br />
But I could write a whole encyclopaedia filled with examples of, 'I am because I am', 'animal farm', 'when pull him down is the way to go', 'it's a good idea to be corrupt and line my pockets with taxpayers' money', 'when I love you is just words', 'when cheating has made me the happiest person alive', 'why worry about your happiness when all that matters is mine', 'swindling - that's the name of the game', 'so I deceived you, so I led you on and so what', and the list goes on and on and on.<br />
<br />
Imagine the near utopian world we could live in if "ubuntu" meant something to all of us.<br />
Our politicians would be looking out for our best interests and not looking out for just theirs. Our roads would get constructed properly because the contractor, wanting you to be happy as well, would not cut corners, doing a shoddy job just so he can line his pockets. Our psychiatric hospitals wouldn't be as full as they are because 'I love you' is more than just words. Suicide rates would decrease because people would not feel the need to lead others on and drop them when they feel like it. Crime would be non existent. There wouldn't be a need to steal, kill or destroy. No one would think about outwitting the other person. There would never be the need to lynch anyone, robber or not, accidentally or intentionally. Why?<br />
Because, how can one be happy when the others are sad?<br />
<br />
I once saw an inscription on the wall of a South African airport, and it read: 'if you want to walk fast, walk alone; but if you want to walk far, walk together'. I later found out it is an African proverb. It's amazing the great ideas we have here in Africa. I say ideas, why?<br />
Do we practise them? Ever?<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-48942905706842377482017-06-23T13:28:00.002+00:002017-06-23T13:30:35.195+00:00Damaged GoodsRoverman Productions in partnership with Vodafone, National Theatre & Joy FM present:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>DAMAGED GOODS</b></div>
<b><br /></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XkZYqlRDAroYwJAp63Qz_eLKHOIcWH-z1ZsnAHTbMrsfa7B5GKwX7PU6XjMb61kR1Xvk9N_ZTUVElunVbINUTQIA9y2DoBzcV4dGe8mUo6VZwgqwBLfzMDv9HYxZooo8irFXqOpwq6c/s1600/Animwaa+20170606_195017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XkZYqlRDAroYwJAp63Qz_eLKHOIcWH-z1ZsnAHTbMrsfa7B5GKwX7PU6XjMb61kR1Xvk9N_ZTUVElunVbINUTQIA9y2DoBzcV4dGe8mUo6VZwgqwBLfzMDv9HYxZooo8irFXqOpwq6c/s640/Animwaa+20170606_195017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
An Ebo Whyte play<br />
<br />
The Arkursts agree to participate in a television interview about their marriage with the hope that they can set an example for other marriages.<br />
<br />
There, on live television, cameras rolling, to the full glare of millions of viewers, a stress event occurs; one which could potentially result in a full blown out family crisis depending on the management of this stressor and the coping mechanisms the Arkursts employ.<br />
<br />
What happens? Does this event result in the Arkurts being thrown into a state of family crisis?<br />
<br />
Find out at the <b>National Theatre</b> on <b>24th, 25th June, 1st & 2nd July</b> at <b>4pm and 8pm</b> each day. Tickets cost <b>GH¢80.00</b> at Joy FM; Shell Shops at Airport, Dansoman, Sakaman, Achimota & Tema Comm. 11; Baatsona & Haatso Total; Quick and Fine Supermarket opposite UPS; Goil Shops at 37, Mile 7 & Sakaman; Frankies, Osu.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, tickets can be paid for via Vodafone Cash at a 10% discount<br />
1. Dial *110#<br />
2. Select 5 (Pay Bill)<br />
3. Select 2 (Other)<br />
4. Enter short code - 110110<br />
5. Enter bill number - i.e. time and date of play e.g. 4pm 24th June<br />
6. Enter amount (multiples of GH¢72)<br />
7. Enter PIN to confirm<br />
<br />
Someway, somehow, we all have been damaged at a point. How are we moving past that? How are the people in our lives dealing and helping us deal with that?<br />
<br />
<b>DAMAGED GOODS</b> - a fun play with a plethora of lessons to learn.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-57742048293742916622017-06-20T16:53:00.000+00:002017-06-20T16:53:41.562+00:00Mob Justice, Mob Injustice: Where is the Police?A crime is committed, the <strike>perpetrator</strike> suspect is caught. The next logical step would be to call the police / report the incident to the police / send the suspect to the police. More often than not, this next logical step is ignored, omitted and a rather illogical step is adopted. The suspect is lynched. Mob justice? Where is the police?<br />
<br />
Some 10 odd years ago, a robber attacked me. I lived, injured, but I lived. My brother rushes me to the hospital after the attack but was told to pass by the police station to pick up a hospital form first. We get to the police station, the police take a look at my bruised self, my brother reports the incident, obtains the hospital form, we are about to head on out to the hospital when one of the police officers stops us. He tells my brother the vehicle at the station has been taken out by another officer and he would be grateful if my brother could take the police to the location of the incident. My brother tells him his priority at that moment is to get me to a hospital since the extent of my injuries are unknown. Then we leave.<br />
<br />
Thankfully my injuries weren't life threatening.<br />
My brother and I leave the hospital after about an hour and head home. We are almost home when some guys in my neighbourhood stop the car. They ask me to come and identify the body of the robber (seriously). They'd chased him down after I left to the hospital, caught him, inflicted machete wounds on him and stoned him. Mob justice, mob injustice? Where was the police? Turns out a police officer from the station my brother made the report to arrived at the scene moments after the robber took his last breath. All he could say was if only he had been there earlier, the robber would not have been killed.<br />
Where is the police? The police are inadequately resourced and lack access to logistics (a car) needed to perform their duties.<br />
In situations where civilians chase a robber and catch the robber, what are they to do? Hold on to the robber until the police arrive? Transport the robber to the police station?<br />
<br />
One morning sometime in the 90's, I heard a loud bang while sweeping outside. Later in the morning, I was sweeping inside the house when I found a bullet. I screamed, I shouted, my mum came running asking what was going on. I showed her the bullet. We looked up, and there in the ceiling was a bullet hole. How was that even possible? A report was made to the police and two police officers arrived at my house later. They stood marveling at the bullet hole while staring disbelievingly at the bullet, and joined everyone around in writing the incident off as a spiritual attack. Me, I was standing there thinking of stray bullets and trying to remember if I'd heard a chopper or a plane flying around before I heard the loud bang. I also remember trying to figure out if it was possible the shot had been fired from a storey building, and I remember wondering why the police weren't on the roof measuring, calculating, and looking for the nearest storey buildings. I was 11 years old. The police took the bullet away with them and we never saw them again. The investigation, if there was any, was closed (I guess).<br />
Where is the police? Well, turns out the police are a tad bit too spiritual to think about investigating a crime scene. We're in Africa. How about writing off potential criminal activity as a spiritual attack.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, I went to church and my priest shared the story of a similar incident that happened in his office. A bullet was shot through the roof. A police officer arrived after a report was made and he reeked of alcohol.<br />
Where is the police? Indulging in extra curricular activities while on the job.<br />
<br />
I've heard a number of cases where reports have been made to the police, suspects have been arrested and then released by the police without an investigation.<br />
<br />
I heard a story in the news where a possibly mentally deranged man went on rampage injuring people and destroying property. A report was made to the police. A police officer gave pepper spray to those that made the report. He said he was the only one at the station and he couldn't leave since some people were being held for criminal offences at the station. The officer asked them to use the pepper spray on the man, subdue him and bring him to the station.<br />
Where is the police? The police would like to think civilians with no police training whatsoever should perform the duties for which the same civilians pay taxes to ensure police offices get trained to perform.<br />
<br />
Is it therefore a wonder that rather than send suspects to the police station, rather than wait for the police to obtain a vehicle and show up, rather than wait for the police who will rather engage in spirituality than do their job, rather than deal with a drunk police officer, rather than send a suspect to the police station who will only be released after no investigation, rather than have to transport a dangerous person to the police station, mobs would rather mete out instant justice?<br />
<br />
In the case where I was attacked by a robber, after he was subjected to mob justice/injustice, his lifeless body was left in the middle of the road until the next morning when the police had it removed. The police also asked that I write a statement that morning and that was it. No investigation.<br />
Is it a wonder mob justice/injustice keeps happening when the situation is not investigated, when the mob know they will go scot free?<br />
Why mob justice/injustice? Where is the police?<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-36077776188400650262017-05-12T16:29:00.000+00:002017-05-12T16:29:25.546+00:00The Girl Who LivedThe first time I read a Harry Potter book was some time in 1999, and I remember being so enthralled by the book; it was literally un-put-downable for me. I was in my early teens, and at that age, not much could hold my attention for the length of time this book could. I had no time for anyone or anything, and all I did was marvel at J. K. Rowlings' creativity, and I remember wanting to write as good as her when I grow up, and for my writing to captivate as many people over the world as her's does.<br />
No, this post is not about Harry Potter.<br />
<br />
There's this phrase used to describe Harry Potter in the books as, 'the boy who lived'. I thought it interesting. Little did I know years down the line after reading my first Harry Potter book, that phrase could be used to describe me.<br />
<br />
Fast forward, November 2007 and I'm attacked by a robber. A robber drove up to me and tried to snatch my hand bag. That 'I-don't-even-know-how-to-describe-it', but possibly that penchant for bravado, could be stupidity too, you develop over the years after reading all the Enid Blyton books, Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books and thinking you can do 0.000000000001 of what the heroes and heroines do kicked in, and I fought back. Stupidest thing I've done to date (that could have so got me killed). I didn't die. I walked away with minor bruises, my assailant, well, he wasn't so fortunate. He was killed. Not by me, but by a mob.<br />
So now I like to walk around and think of myself as 'the girl who lived'. Well, I could have died, but I didn't, the guy who could have killed me rather died as a result of what he tried to do to me. Come to think of it, If I'd just given the guy my hand bag, he'd have <strike>walked</strike> driven away that day. He died as a result of my actions.<br />
<br />
As 'the girl who lived', after so many years of thinking of myself that way, it makes sense that I should do something, make an impact, otherwise, what's the point? Harry Potter did a lot being 'the boy who lived'. He made it count by fighting evil. I'm so making my self conferred status of 'the girl who lived' count. I don't know what I'll do yet though. There are a number of possibilities; become president, save the world, feed the hungry - related to that, I'm giving my cake to the cleaner in my office right now and then I'll think up ways of making my existence count.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-29545564735235392502017-03-29T16:03:00.000+00:002017-03-29T16:03:03.853+00:00Adventures of Hadassah - The Bus Ride 1All she saw and felt was sand, sand and more sand; a couple of stones too, but mostly sand. Hadassah couldn't believe it. How was this happening to her? Bad things happen to bad people doing bad stuff. Here she was, not exactly a bad person, trying to do something extremely good (by her estimation), but staring death in the face. And the worst part of it all (from her perspective) was for someone who would not walk into her bedroom with shoes that have walked on sand; sand that could have come from some gutter, sand that others might have spat in, sneezed in, blown their nose in, a variety of wild life (actually just domesticated animals) have emptied their bowels in; and here she was literally face to face with this same sand. Life as she knew it was over.<br />
"Ouch! Ewwwww! HELP!!! Dear God! NO!!!!", she tried to scream above the din of the engine, but either she wasn't screaming loud enough, the engine was drowning out her screams, or nobody could/would help her.<br />
The end was definitely here.<br />
<br />
Hadassah was born into privilege. She wanting anything would be akin to a drowning man wanting a bath. There was this quirkiness about her; that coupled with her lack of want and need ensured she did not fit in. Try as she could (and how she did) she really wasn't cut out to be like the masses. Life in Hadassah's opinion wasn't fair. How she was excluded from living, from participating, from experiencing because of her origin was no more rational than excluding people for their gender, height or skin colour.<br />
<br />
Rather than sit around and await a reincarnation into the right social class (the one that would ensure she got to be like everybody else), Hadassah decided to make the most of the life she has. On this day, she parked her car at home and took the bus.<br />
<br />
Taking the bus meant walking a bit of a distance from her home to the bus stop, but she was determined to experience a bus ride at least once in her life. Armed with a sanitizer gel, antibacterial wipes and spray, she begun her journey.<br />
<br />
After an uneventful 10 minute walk laden with curious stares from neighbours, Hadassah made it to the bus stop just as a bus heading in the direction she had decided to travel arrived. Hadassah got on board and carefully made her way to the back where there were empty seats. She'd just made it to an empty seat, emptied a tidy amount of antibacterial spray onto it, was just about to wipe it off with an antibacterial wipe when the bus took off, and with a plop, she hit the floor of the bus.<br />
That was the mildest fall yet of the day for Hadassah.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-39064760462105723272017-03-23T17:05:00.000+00:002017-12-23T15:34:13.720+00:00BlackmailRoverman Productions & Vodafone in partnership with Joy FM present:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BLACKMAIL</b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuNwnIkBz4Cvf99Q5pg96Xxe5OctMm9rjIbxoaUf_xHzZhy4eXrwCg-FKziCJyk6b7e03XLtntGVsmDlEV8W2rVO5UiPCiF5NFg-NWhnlQMUoHBKj3aLmktXM4cIxDOrTQnmCYXphz_Q/s1600/Elsie+20170315_064327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuNwnIkBz4Cvf99Q5pg96Xxe5OctMm9rjIbxoaUf_xHzZhy4eXrwCg-FKziCJyk6b7e03XLtntGVsmDlEV8W2rVO5UiPCiF5NFg-NWhnlQMUoHBKj3aLmktXM4cIxDOrTQnmCYXphz_Q/s400/Elsie+20170315_064327.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
An Ebo Whyte Play<br />
<br />
The strength of a woman is undeniably a force to be reckoned with.<br />
Even when you cannot accept her for who she is, will not accept what she does as a part of her, and especially when you find it so easy to judge her knowing you have skeletons (of the worst kind) in your closet. Once she's made up her mind to be there for you, she'll do exactly that.<br />
<br />
On the eve of his consecration to the office of a bishop, Reverend Elisha receives shocking news that his wife has been cheating with a member of their church. Before he could deal with this heart-breaking news, an even darker secret that was left buried in the USA rears its ugly head. It threatens to destroy his marriage further, and end his career as a renowned preacher in one of the biggest churches in Ghana.<br />
<br />
Within 24 hours, he has to take a decision; one that has the potential to make him lose either his wife or his ministry or both.<br />
<br />
<b>BLACKMAIL</b> shows at the National Theatre on 25th, 26th March & 1st , 2nd April at 4pm and 8pm each day. Tickets go for GH<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">¢</span>80.00 at Joy FM; Shell Shops at Airport, Dansoman, Sakaman, Achimota, Tema Comm. 11; Baatsona & Haatso Total; Quick and Fine Supermarket opposite UPS; Goil Shops at 37, Mile 7 & Sakaman; Frankies, Osu.<br />
<br />
Alternatively tickets can be paid for via Vodafone Cash at a 10% discount<br />
1. Dial *110#<br />
2. Select "Buy Goods"<br />
3. Enter Till Number - this will be 100100<br />
4. Enter Amount (multiples of GH<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">¢</span>72)<br />
5. Enter PIN to confirm<br />
<br />
As is characteristic of every Ebo Whyte play, there's a lot of humour, fun, music, dance and a myriad of lessons to be learnt.<br />
<b>BLACKMAIL</b> is the play to see!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-67477547501055852017-01-19T10:03:00.000+00:002017-01-19T10:36:31.972+00:00My Dream Road Sign!That feeling when what you've been missing arrives, then you realise just how much you needed it, and you can't believe you've lived life without it (how did you even do it). That's how I felt when I saw my dream road sign.<br />
And then I researched and found out that my dream road sign already exists, except it doesn't seem to be in use in Ghana, where I'd say it's very much needed. It wasn't included in the signs I had to learn and was tested on for my driving test (DVLA, really!!!). Unless it wasn't in existence at that time.<br />
<br />
You know how it is like when you use a particular road so much that you could practically draw it in your sleep. You know where all the potholes are, or so you thought. And then one day you use this road knowing there's a pothole at a particular spot you can't avoid, but since you know this road so well, you know the speed with which you should go over the pothole, only for you to pass over this pothole and realise just how wrong you were. The rains and drivers with need for speed plying this road frequently, have resulted in that pothole metamorphosing into a pit.<br />
<br />
You weren't supposed to drive over that pothole! You were supposed to stop, get out of the car, and push it over the hole! Too late, your car is most likely already damaged.<br />
It really would be helpful if some warning was given as soon as you got onto that road. In other parts of the world, they're nice enough to give you this warning.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnxeS4Suoht7avLx9OJ7kx5b6Q5IZKKyUhjGkrO3SOhZbL6PjZUl8xWZmfSD48DS3fK9mfGX2ClrltPzdxPbCeZjyp4ubRcNR7dY54nX0CGZxflR4T0HPuJZUwh2S0Jc_3GA0Oi63KXhc/s1600/Pothole_1933257c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnxeS4Suoht7avLx9OJ7kx5b6Q5IZKKyUhjGkrO3SOhZbL6PjZUl8xWZmfSD48DS3fK9mfGX2ClrltPzdxPbCeZjyp4ubRcNR7dY54nX0CGZxflR4T0HPuJZUwh2S0Jc_3GA0Oi63KXhc/s200/Pothole_1933257c.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTWa8l_m1fGqQdjfLN3_I9pg93qm63LRcChxQILaVcKR4ELLFOqESBI8YrAsB-w8zCQDixutFoZ5q1k3fSVJDPkBwS42KcUBK-87CdzQmownuk6CAkS6b9UhdSBpyQ_GKzcd4-zNOmLU/s1600/potholes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTWa8l_m1fGqQdjfLN3_I9pg93qm63LRcChxQILaVcKR4ELLFOqESBI8YrAsB-w8zCQDixutFoZ5q1k3fSVJDPkBwS42KcUBK-87CdzQmownuk6CAkS6b9UhdSBpyQ_GKzcd4-zNOmLU/s200/potholes.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjLUaPZn9dEnZmfIxBpZqA1NQ-1fodfYThHAK_kwV5t6u2J1HURtkuWMZB9eKLRY8QWFJwwUxeFDbgKSlBBv-S89REmGU9wS2aWLOcigyDrBXV4MYpl5l_ScRnhbhI2f5aROsqFanbT0/s1600/potholes33jpg-d4ff5458569aa0b0_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjLUaPZn9dEnZmfIxBpZqA1NQ-1fodfYThHAK_kwV5t6u2J1HURtkuWMZB9eKLRY8QWFJwwUxeFDbgKSlBBv-S89REmGU9wS2aWLOcigyDrBXV4MYpl5l_ScRnhbhI2f5aROsqFanbT0/s200/potholes33jpg-d4ff5458569aa0b0_large.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Not in Ghana.<br />
But all's not lost, because I discovered this one right here in Accra.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXpRWI3lUZeye4HC1QO8_KkBqGQBnIsFElpYvmARONpPFc7GsMCzc6qkmdg0Icgc9iU_KuBTujNCWMWRH9PslKhG5B9SuMfsEh0sFzJ0T9Zsf25nEwKM5ZSsF6zi6w8KznatO2W21vvM/s1600/IMG_20161117_164936_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXpRWI3lUZeye4HC1QO8_KkBqGQBnIsFElpYvmARONpPFc7GsMCzc6qkmdg0Icgc9iU_KuBTujNCWMWRH9PslKhG5B9SuMfsEh0sFzJ0T9Zsf25nEwKM5ZSsF6zi6w8KznatO2W21vvM/s320/IMG_20161117_164936_edit.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No need to design new road signs. Roads and Highways, you know what to do!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The thing I don't get is there isn't a single pothole on that stretch of road, so why the sign?<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-33818958215309754602016-12-23T15:08:00.000+00:002016-12-23T15:08:16.820+00:00The Christmas Story of "What ifs"What if?<br />
<div>
What if Mary had told Angel Gabriel to get lost?</div>
<div>
What did he mean telling her she would get pregnant by the Holy Spirit? That couldn't even be possible. Even if it was, after she'd saved herself and found the perfect man, and was about to get married, what did Angel Gabriel mean, what would her family say, what would the man think of her, what would his family say? She would surely lose him.</div>
<div>
What if Mary had said no way, thus ending the Christmas story even before it had begun.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What if?</div>
<div>
What if Joseph had said no way!</div>
<div>
What if he had said there was no way he was going to marry a woman already pregnant. And how does a person get impregnated by the Holy Spirit? That certainly must be a load of hogwash! What would society think of him and that whole situation?</div>
<div>
What if Joseph had said he would do what any man in his position would do, leave Mary, tell everyone what Mary had done, resulting most likely in Mary being stoned to death, thus the death of baby Jesus even before He was born.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What if?</div>
<div>
What if King Herod had embraced the idea of another king!</div>
<div>
Baby Jesus would have most likely had a totally different upbringing. He would have lived in a palace, had all the finer things in life, lived life to the utmost!</div>
<div>
What if baby Jesus had lived like the king He is? How would life be today? Would salvation have come to the world? Would He have been crucified? How would our sins have been atoned for? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What if?</div>
<div>
What if the Magi (wise men) had ignored the dream and returned to give baby Jesus' location to King Herod? He obviously had no intention of going to worship Jesus like he had told the Magi.<br />
What if the Magi had led Herod right to baby Jesus?<br />
Herod would most likely have killed baby Jesus, killing him before His time.</div>
<div>
<br />
What if?<br />
What if the Chief Priests and Teachers of the Law who obviously knew the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem (they did tell Herod about it when he asked), had gone to look for the Messiah. What if they, based on the information they already had, had gone looking for baby Jesus, acknowledging who He is?<br />
Would they have persecuted Jesus as they did? Would they have schemed to have Jesus arrested, and crucified? Would Jesus have died for our sins?<br />
<br />
But, salvation has come to the world.<br />
Mary received Angel Gabriel, and with all humility, accepted what God had destined her for.<br />
Joseph took already pregnant Mary as his wife and Jesus was born to Mary and Joseph.<br />
King Herod did not embrace the idea of another king, and did all he could to eliminate Jesus.<br />
The Magi did not ignore the dream. They did not return to Herod.<br />
The Chief Priests and Teachers of the Law did not act on what they knew. They persecuted, schemed, had Jesus arrested and crucified.<br />
All these unfortunate circumstances had to happen, so we could receive the marvelous gift of Jesus.<br />
<br />
Going through something not so exciting, and asking where God is?<br />
What can I say? Same place He was when His one and only begotten son, the Messiah, was being born in a stable and laid in a manger.<br />
Sometimes, the not so exciting has to happen to pave way for the marvelous to happen!<br />
<br />
Let's remember, Christmas begins what Easter completes!<br />
Merry Christmas!</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-57380102032125400942016-11-25T13:05:00.002+00:002016-11-25T13:05:58.010+00:00RejectedRoverman Productions & Airtel in partnership with Joy FM & National Theatre present:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>REJECTED</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqVlUpNN68zlKWNRN9sKA9ZRIJU3pX7yTpy4hciUVQBrgGSZEhkxyUWxxl5D9I1G_A-ZeckFeaNjs3-TT5NDnirnE5hvRlMUUMNsBdQJLWF8NfPGoTqZSjiNGmWaQ8526FCUC8fXUhD8/s1600/IMG-20161112-090744.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqVlUpNN68zlKWNRN9sKA9ZRIJU3pX7yTpy4hciUVQBrgGSZEhkxyUWxxl5D9I1G_A-ZeckFeaNjs3-TT5NDnirnE5hvRlMUUMNsBdQJLWF8NfPGoTqZSjiNGmWaQ8526FCUC8fXUhD8/s400/IMG-20161112-090744.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
An Ebo Whyte Play<br />
<br />
What do you do when all you've known for 12 years turns out to be a huge lie?<br />
When after all this time, all the sacrifices made, you feel rejected, unwanted, unappreciated, unwelcome?<br />
Where do you start from?<br />
How do you recover?<br />
How do you pick yourself up?<br />
<br />
It's all about forgiveness.<br />
<br />
It's a lie anyways, why hold on to that baggage and let all the bitterness and anger eat you up inside?<br />
You forgive, you move on.<br />
You hold on, chances are you never will move on, but wallow in self pity.<br />
<br />
Take a cheating spouse, a confused spouse, a materialistic man of God, a feisty mother, and a drunk friend who cannot keep his mouth shut, and put them in a mix, and you get Uncle Ebo Whyte's play <b>REJECTED</b>.<br />
A hilarious piece which tells the story of a man whose attempt at getting a better life by all means is foiled by his best friend and his phone passwords.<br />
<br />
<b>REJECTED</b> shows at the National Theatre on 26th, 27th November & 3rd, 4th December at 4pm and 8pm each day. Tickets can be purchased for GH<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">¢</span>80.00 at Joy FM; Quick & Fine Supermarket (Madina); Haatso Total; Baatsona Total; Airport Shell; Comm. 11 Shell; Mallam Shell; Sakaman Shell; Dansoman Shell; Frankies; Motorway Supermarket (Tema); 37 Goil and Capital Bank Branches.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, tickets can be paid for via Airtel Money<br />
1. Dial *500#<br />
2. Select Buy Goods<br />
3. Select Other<br />
4. Type "ROVERMAN"<br />
5. Enter Amount<br />
6. Enter your name, show date & time as Reference Number (eg. Efua Dentaa, 3rd, 4pm)<br />
7. Confirm payment details with your Airtel Money PIN<br />
8. Present the confirmation text that'll be sent to you at the gate for entry.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-35271459402131128882016-11-16T15:46:00.001+00:002016-11-16T15:55:22.140+00:00What Happened to Childhood?Yesterday, I happened to be walking in my neighbourhood at about 5:30pm, when I heard the voice of a little girl behind me say in a local language, "Ma, let's go home, I'm tired". Then I heard the voice of an older woman (her mum, I guess) respond somewhat sarcastically, "sure, we'll go home right now, and you'll see what you'll eat" (also in local language). Not to make it look too obvious what I was doing (eavesdropping), I waited till I turned onto my street, then I looked back. I saw a woman with a pan of vegetables on her head, a girl, not more than 10 years old also with a pan of vegetables on her head, and close behind a boy of about 6 years, with a slightly smaller pan of vegetables on his head.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm all grown up and all, so I don't remember all the details of my childhood, but I know for sure my eating never depended on me selling vegetables or anything for that matter. Matter of fact, at that age, most conversations with my mum about food went something like,<br />
"Dentaa, food's ready".<br />
"Mum, really? Not again. I'm not having that"!<br />
<br />
What happened to childhood?<br />
<br />
Yesterday reminded me of something I saw last week with the intention of blogging about it, and then life happened, I forgot, and then yesterday happened, and then I remembered.<br />
So, last week, I was heading home when I saw a girl of not more than 11 years with a baby on her back, crossing the road to buy something.<br />
<br />
At that age, the only responsibility I had was remembering the time Cartoon Network showed <i>Power Puff Girls</i> and <i>Courage the Cowardly Dog </i>and of course <i>Dexter's Lab, </i>so I didn't miss them. And when I was the age of the baby, my mum sure never put no 11 year old in charge of me!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
What happened to childhood?<br />
<br />
And then there are all the children I see weaving in and out of traffic either selling or begging for money to feed themselves and their families.<br />
<br />
Whose fault?<br />
What happened to childhood?<br />
#CountYourBlessings<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-4037981480248534552016-10-14T10:50:00.003+00:002017-06-06T09:12:19.776+00:00My World!Living in my own world,<br />
Where the colour of my skin is just that; a colour,<br />
Where my religion reflects what I believe in and hold dear,<br />
Where my beliefs and ideologies really are mine; everyone is free to have theirs,<br />
Where my view of the world may be different from that of the next person,<br />
And none of these signify a death sentence for me.<br />
<br />
Living in my own world,<br />
Where I don't get made fun of because of my body size,<br />
Where the size of my bank account does not mean anything,<br />
Where progress in life is not dependent on how much skin I can show,<br />
Where I don't need to have connections to move up the success ladder,<br />
And none of these get me disqualified from enjoying the finer things in life.<br />
<br />
Living in my own world,<br />
Where no one has to go hungry,<br />
Where everyone has clothes on their back,<br />
Where children get to be what they are, children, not workers,<br />
Where everyone has a roof over their head,<br />
And no one has to feel life is unfair.<br />
<br />
Living in my own world,<br />
Where everyone is treated fairly,<br />
Where we all live in an inclusive society,<br />
Where we all have access to inclusive education,<br />
Where we all live in well planned communities,<br />
And none of this is a privilege, but a right.<br />
<br />
Living in my own world,<br />
Where grace finds me every day,<br />
Where all the wicked schemes of the enemy are used for my good,<br />
Where the focus is not on the devil, but on God,<br />
Where we understand that God is always good, and He loves us, no matter what,<br />
And the goodness of God overshadows the evilness of the enemy.<br />
<br />
Living in my own world,<br />
Where the grass is green,<br />
Where the sky is blue,<br />
Where the air is clean,<br />
Where people are good,<br />
And life is good for everyone.<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-62903223155797093402016-10-03T15:41:00.000+00:002016-10-03T15:47:19.333+00:00We are One!Oh my!<br />
I haven't blogged in like forever (that'd make me forever, forever years old?)<br />
So, I saw something today, that got me thinking, and then I thought and thought and thought, and decided to put this piece together.<br />
It's not like I don't think on a regular basis, it's just what I saw got me thinking enough to want to put this together. And it's not like I don't see things on a regular basis either (trust me, driving in Ghana, you will see things paa).<br />
<br />
For example there was this day I was in traffic, when I saw a trotro (bus) come to what appeared to be a stop (what appeared to be because it was still sort of moving but very slowly) and then a stone dropped, then the trotro came to a complete stop. After a few minutes, the stone was lifted up, and then the trotro went on its merry way.<br />
Figuring out what had happened had me in stitches (I actually forgot I was sitting in annoying good ol' Accra traffic and running late for work).<br />
This is what I figured out: The brakes of the trotro do not work, so the driver had a stone in the bus tied to a string. When he wants to stop, he gradually brings the bus to a stop using the gears, and then drops the stone next to the front tyre to bring the bus to a complete stop (ingenious huh?) I so wanted to get a picture of that, but the trotro moved before I could. But really, how is this bus still on the road? Does it have a roadworthy certificate? Is it roadworthy?<br />
That's not what this post is about anyways, so moving on...<br />
<br />
This morning, on my way to work, there was this car in front of me, and I couldn't believe what I saw inside.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGR-N1HTWoaUAeHTHiw5S9s0elED8geTNhUlsiwQ6t3Bv0-eY05-YZidcWOKf2cNru8_80338MFGqSHRhTiZBF6g-3wAjY3wSbkSsYMVoDq1hB5p89Cbbll9t7CBM5EPzP9xuqSxqhAA/s1600/IMG_20161003_074047_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGR-N1HTWoaUAeHTHiw5S9s0elED8geTNhUlsiwQ6t3Bv0-eY05-YZidcWOKf2cNru8_80338MFGqSHRhTiZBF6g-3wAjY3wSbkSsYMVoDq1hB5p89Cbbll9t7CBM5EPzP9xuqSxqhAA/s640/IMG_20161003_074047_edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NPP & NDC together, side by side</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yes, souvenirs of the two leading political parties (yeah, I stand to be corrected by anyone who does not want to accept that Ghana really is a two-party state) in Ghana.<br />
Interesting.<br />
And then the driver turned into the yard of the Ghana National Fire Service, that's when I saw the driver dressed in uniform. He's a fire officer. Then my mind went into overdrive. Working for the Fire Service means he is working for the government. To be on the safer side, he represents both political parties equally in his car. After all, we really do not know who will come out the victor in the upcoming elections, and he wants to keep his job. Yep, that must be it.<br />
<br />
But seriously, it had me thinking. That's how it should be. It's not a do or die affair. We should all just chill. We are Ghanaians, aren't we? Side by side, working together, we can make Ghana a better place, transform Ghana and change lives for all of us regardless of what our political affiliation is.<br />
<br />
Let's remember to put Ghana first before any political party.<br />
We are one!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-76262160489306197152016-08-25T15:58:00.001+00:002016-08-25T16:07:58.728+00:00SankofaRoverman Productions & Airtel in partnership with Joy FM & National Theatre present:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sankofa</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxbwwVLZHjYOwgjGMhDgOC0qv2MpLauyLfaJ5pCC50pLZ-ZEkLjtE0IHjQVrGJWkGaVGIl20ga6UgoHS2qL7yug7i7h7riBw2aqHOVB27sSwMkbekzEWmRCX90nkogWi1MS0ACib0a34/s1600/IMG-20160817-WA000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxbwwVLZHjYOwgjGMhDgOC0qv2MpLauyLfaJ5pCC50pLZ-ZEkLjtE0IHjQVrGJWkGaVGIl20ga6UgoHS2qL7yug7i7h7riBw2aqHOVB27sSwMkbekzEWmRCX90nkogWi1MS0ACib0a34/s400/IMG-20160817-WA000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
An Uncle Ebo Whyte Play.<br />
<br />
How many have sat in a Ghanaian university and been lectured by a Ghanaian lecturer, and found the lecture to be more of a "bless the minions with my immense knowledge session"?<br />
How many have sat in a Western university and been lectured by a foreign lecturer, and found the lecture to be more of a "knowledge sharing, exchange of ideas session"?<br />
<br />
What accounts for the difference?<br />
Interestingly, most of the Ghanaian lecturers had their higher education in the West, and did experience these knowledge sharing and exchange of ideas sessions, so what happens when they become lecturers and they enter Ghanaian lecture halls? I say Ghanaian lecture halls, because trust me, lectures in the West by Ghanaian lecturers are nothing like lectures in Ghana by Ghanaian lecturers.<br />
<br />
Can the Ghanaian remain in Ghana and achieve his/her full potential?<br />
Sankofa tells the story of two distinguished Ghanaian professors, one of whom could have been credited for mentoring a Nobel prize laureate, but threw this opportunity away when he chose rather to frustrate this Nobel laureate. Many years later, this professor finds himself kowtowing to his former student in Australia. Serves him right? Well, as if that's not enough, he literally threw his own daughter away. A decision he has come to regret terribly.<br />
Is it just me or do a lot of Ghanaian professors think they are all the way up there, and the rest of us are all the way down there? And this attitude exhibits itself in all aspects of their lives, from professional to personal, from work life to family life.<br />
And what's this with parents deciding what their children should study in school and what profession they should be engaged in?<br />
<br />
Sankofa, Uncle Ebo's 3rd quarter production will give us an insight into all of this, while making us laugh our heads off.<br />
Venue: National Theatre<br />
Date: 27th, 28th August and 3rd, 4th September<br />
Time: 1st show 4pm, 2nd show 8pm<br />
Rate: GH<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">¢</span>80.00<br />
<br />
Tickets are available at all Airtel Shops; Shell Shops at Tema Community 11, Sakaman, Mallam, Dansoman, Achimota & East Legon; Joy FM; Frankies in Osu; Jane-Ann Supermarket and Motorway Supermarket, Tema.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, tickets can be paid for via Airtel Money.<br />
1. Dial *500#<br />
2. Select Buy Goods<br />
3. Select Other<br />
4. Type "ROVERMAN"<br />
5. Enter Amount<br />
6. Enter your name, show date & time as Reference Number (e.g Efua Dentaa, 28th, 4pm)<br />
7. Confirm payment details with your Airtel Money PIN<br />
8. Present the confirmation text that'll be sent to you at the gate for entry.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-530081758270570112016-07-20T14:16:00.000+00:002016-07-20T14:30:05.355+00:00Celebrating a Legend!"When Uncle Ebo opens up his imagination, gold pours forth" - Kojo Yankson, host of the Super Morning Show on Joy 99.7 FM.<br />
<br />
20 years ago, Uncle Ebo Whyte opened up his imagination, and he has presented motivational messages dubbed 'Food for Thought' every week on Joy FM.<br />
In 2004, Uncle Ebo Whyte opened up his imagination, and he has written and published a monthly magazine, 'Rover Report.<br />
In 2008, Uncle Ebo Whyte opened up his imagination, and he has thrilled theatre lovers every quarter, every year, with a play.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure one would presume after hitting 60, there really could be nothing new coming out of Uncle Ebo. Sorry to disappoint, but exactly a month ago, James Ebo Whyte the novelist was unveiled.<br />
Uncle Ebo once again opened up his imagination and out came <i>The Deal: The Case of the Professional Lady</i>, the first in a 7 part book series. I would say every author's dream; to write one book and know the next 6 books are done.<br />
<br />
On this day, July 20, 2016, I celebrate James Ebo Whyte, Motivational Speaker, Writer, Playwright, Novelist; and I know there is more to come.<br />
That imagination of yours is just something else, and I cannot wait to scoop up the gold next you open it up.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_6-U0pjTBeANa72t8RFXhe3Q7siKuPkfzsnL3QZJhU00AF5SIfZmjVsEEPqCzLrgbdpbzdiZqO3nyIVThjEUexjKEPDxChlQULZe8Afv-dMtxVnc8gBrWlc66AdzCfKp-Dloywfo30g/s1600/IMG-20160720-122733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_6-U0pjTBeANa72t8RFXhe3Q7siKuPkfzsnL3QZJhU00AF5SIfZmjVsEEPqCzLrgbdpbzdiZqO3nyIVThjEUexjKEPDxChlQULZe8Afv-dMtxVnc8gBrWlc66AdzCfKp-Dloywfo30g/s400/IMG-20160720-122733.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Ebo Whyte</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Happy Birthday Uncle Ebo!<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-55587195726831891442016-06-03T15:11:00.000+00:002016-08-25T15:59:25.337+00:00Dear God CommaSometime this week, I went on Facebook and saw a comment a Facebook user had put up in response to a friend's post. The comment read, "...We are our parents' spiritual responsibility until we marry and then it goes to our spouse..." I almost felt as though this person had watched "Dear God Comma" (not possible since the play hadn't been staged), but how the comment so ties into the latest play by Uncle Ebo Whyte.<br />
<br />
Roverman Productions & Airtel in partnership with Joy FM & National Theatre present:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear God Comma</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY6x8W20SlH2kO7ktrItLPwGMrbhUmspWlgZaPTMrzRl-q2bGfwHMzc2xcp-ngnFDRnHz5JJ59da8Oo6j-CKNrpzL9Fs9VCojuCzHYihSUU7z7or32lsJxAZtjBgpeiWWchlS9aJgbfk/s1600/IMG-20160519-WA006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY6x8W20SlH2kO7ktrItLPwGMrbhUmspWlgZaPTMrzRl-q2bGfwHMzc2xcp-ngnFDRnHz5JJ59da8Oo6j-CKNrpzL9Fs9VCojuCzHYihSUU7z7or32lsJxAZtjBgpeiWWchlS9aJgbfk/s400/IMG-20160519-WA006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
An Uncle Ebo Whyte Play.<br />
<br />
How many of us are aware, not only aware, but also willing to accept that we do not wrestle against flesh and blood? The Bible in Ephesians 6:12 says, "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms".<br />
<br />
How many of us are so enamoured by science that until something we hear or see can be backed by empirical evidence we do not believe it? How many of us are aware that once married, the spiritual responsibility of our spouse falls on us?<br />
<br />
What's a scientist to do when the very existence of her husband is threatened by forces she cannot comprehend and goes against everything she has been taught in the classroom? Find out how she resolves this conflict.<br />
Where: National Theatre<br />
When: 4th, 5th, 25th & 26th June, 2nd & 3rd July<br />
Time: 1st show 4pm, 2nd show 8pm<br />
Cost: GH<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">¢</span>80.00<br />
<br />
Tickets are available at All Airtel Shops; Shell Shops at Tema, Community 11, Sakaman, Mallam, Dansoman, Achimota & East Legon; Joy FM; 37 Goil; Baatsona & Haatso Total Shops; Frankies, Osu; Motorway Supermarket, Tema; Jane-Ann Supermarket and Capital Bank Branches.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, tickets can be paid for via Airtel Money.<br />
1. Dial *500#<br />
2. Select Buy Goods<br />
3. Select Other<br />
4. Type "ROVERMAN"<br />
5. Enter Amount<br />
6. Enter your name, show date & time as Reference Number (Efua Dentaa, 5th, 4pm)<br />
7. Confirm payment details with your Airtel Money PIN<br />
8. Present the confirmation text that'll be sent to you at the gate for entry<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028122919477502268.post-44329510593688303372016-05-11T13:48:00.000+00:002016-05-11T13:48:15.849+00:00Accountable Policing in Ghana!January 4, 2011<br />
Stephen Arthur, a 19 year old orphan walked out of his house and hopped into a commercial vehicle, and that was the last time he ever walked. He is paralysed from the waist down. Has no control over his bowel movements or urine. Has erectile dysfunction and will never father a child.<br />
<br />
The vehicle Stephen Arthur got onto that fateful day was stopped by a police officer asking for his Christmas gift. The driver obliged and gave the officer some money, only for another officer standing nearby, Constable Stephen Frimpong to approach the driver asking why his colleague officer was given money. An argument ensued between the constable and the driver, so the first officer (the one who collected the money) asked the driver to park well. In parking well, the driver had to move the vehicle. That was when Constable Frimpong opened fire into the back of the vehicle (I guess thinking the driver was running away). A bullet hit the spine of Stephen Arthur, and to say life has never been the same, would be grossly understating how life has been since.<br />
<br />
The Police Intelligence and Professional Standards Bureau (PIPS) in their investigation of this incident came out with the findings that Constable Frimpong's conduct was criminal. The constable was arrested and granted bail, but during a police service enquiry into this incident, he run away and has not been found since. Has he been looked for? If he has and has not been found, how safe are we in Ghana? How safe are we if one man has been able to escape police grips after all these years? How safe are we with all these terror alerts going on around us?<br />
<br />
A benevolent law firm sued on behalf of Stephen Arthur and after much wrangling, the Attorney General decided to settle out of court 2 years ago. How is one compensated for all that this young man has lost? It has been 2 years since this decision was reached, and still nothing. How long did it take for Alfred Agbesi Woyome to be given his judgement debt by the Attorney General for doing nothing and for no damage to his person? Imagine how Stephen Arthur's life would have been with 1/10th of the settlement Alfred Woyome received.<br />
<br />
Stephen Arthur has no one to take care of him. His brother who was caring for him started abusing him and Stephen has tried to take his own life once. He is 24 years old now, and to say his future looks bleak would be an understatement. He is in critical condition now at the Police Hospital, and has grown so lean he cannot wear adult diapers, but has to wear baby diapers.<br />
<br />
March 8, 2014<br />
Corporal Bernard Frimpong walked into a Cal Bank banking hall and opened fire right there in the banking hall because of an argument he had with one of the customers.<br />
<br />
What next?<br />
Superintendent Frimpong will walk into a mall and open fire on shoppers because he feels cheated by one shop owner?<br />
<br />
One thing I kept repeating after Corporal Frimpong opened fire in the bank is, "it could happen to any one of us". Who in the bank that day thought they would walk into the bank and be fired at? Who on that commercial vehicle thought they would get onto a vehicle and be fired at, by none other than a Ghana Police officer?<br />
<br />
It is all well and good fighting for accountable governance and fighting against corruption, but isn't this something worth fighting for? Our civil society organisations, in addition to finding the truth behind the bus branding saga, SADA, Subah and the rest, how about we fight for human rights too?<br />
#ISpeakForJustice<div class="blogger-post-footer">© Efua Dentaa</div>Efua Dentaahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056715640547276151noreply@blogger.com2