Tuesday, 29 December 2015

SEMESTER CHRONICLES - ANOTHER ONE









I shouldn't have done this in the first place. Leaving the exam hall frustrated after my last paper and having to deal with the absence of reading glasses, this was always going to be tough.
But same ol’ me wanting to talk about things that happened during the just ended semester couldn't keep my fingers off the keyboard. And I've got sponsors this time- The DUNCANS






Let's ride--

Dzisah buil... sorry- Dr. Wilberforce Sefakor Dzisah, the Rector, built the nicest and most powerful building the Ghana Institute of Journalism has ever seen. Yes, no lie. It might not necessarily be the nicest building you have ever seen but hey!
The building Dzisah put up is spectacular. I won’t lie. I was so impressed that I thought about going up to his office to congratulate him. I thought about it. That’s the farthest I got to congratulating him. My pal, Chinedu, stopped me at the stairs. He agreed that the building is magnificent. He spoke passionately about the lights and the design of the front view. He called it the building’s ‘façade’ if I remember correctly. He wields a good command of the English Language, that guy.


front view of the all new D (zisah) block
Anyway he stopped me because he said Dzisah didn't put up the building. He had a few questions for me: “Is Dzisah an Architect?” = “Did Dzisah design the building?”; “Is Dzisah a mason?” = “Did Dzisah cut, carry, and fix blocks?”; “Is Dzisah an electrician?” = “Did Dzisah fix all those pretty light bulbs?”
😢 So yeah Dzisah didn’t build the magnificent edifice I’m so hyped about. Cool, it’s nothing. But know that without Dr. Dzisah, that building wouldn't be there this semester. Three-storey, four large lecture halls, several lecturers’ offices, male and female washrooms… -sigh- Thank you Doc.


even when it's dark outside

another angle
The building was put up to aid in the accommodation of the fresh crop of students that gained admission this year. The number of students that are accepted into GIJ each year is rising at an alarming rate. I think it’s high time we moved to the new campus at Okponglo.

“iuhgfgfdtrf”
Oh?
“kgkhftygffytfgf”
Oh, okay.
Sorry, I was listening to a little bird whisper into my ear that that campus is far from completion. GIJ might not exist there till five years from now.
We are stuck here at Ringway, with an increasing number of students annually.

This year, they came in. They flocked in in large numbers. You would think they had the same parents or actually came in from the same senior high school. They seemed to know each other. Soon enough, I understood their ‘unity’. They had found themselves in a new environment and felt oddly comfortable around one another since they were all new here. Gradually, that weird unity crumbled when the old dogs [who keep learning new tricks] decided to attack the innocent female preys. The second year students were a bit reluctant to pose as old dogs since they were still learning baby tricks, and frankly, they couldn't match the wildness of the guys in levels above them.
The fourth year students are either too busy or totally Jon. Either way, you won't even see them on campus talking to any girl at all.
But the third years. Oh my days! Can you believe competition was so tight, you realized all your guys had already spoken to the first year girl you just spoke to? The 'Time No Dey' rule was unconsciously in effect. The October Rush was mad. All the fine fine girls were grabbed with tactics carefully laid-out and executed with pinpoint precision. Guys became Pep Guardiola and Jose Mourinho in the chase after these young and pretty, and I beg your pardon, naive girls. I heard the story of a level 300 Journaism C guy who claimed he was protecting one particular girl for her off-campus boyfriend. They were seen together everywhere. It was a gimmick -not meant to attract attention- but to divert and thwart his opponents. He was actually dating the girl! Oh Romeo would be jealous of how this Juliet was grabbed.


GIJ guys be like

Some of us haven't yet said hello to these fine girls. But we no bore. Patience moves mountains. We shall get there.

These first year girls are so privileged. Ask any fine first year girl whether she hasn't been accompanied from campus to Headquarters. That's the kind of privilege I'm talking about. These guys would walk with these girls all the way to Quarters and walk back alone. If you do this, how different are you from those trekking across the desert in search of greener pastures? At least, they are going in search of good fortunes. You act as a girl's escort all the way from campus to Quarters and walk back alone. Ankonam.

While guys walked all the way to Headquarters and back, others were struggling to find their feet. Academically, that is. After postponing the reopening date several times, school finally reopened on 28th September, and we had only 11 or so weeks to engage in all activities- academic and extracurricular.
"This semester was packed. It's been really tiring for me." - Ohenewa, second year.

Ohenewa


I can attest to that fact, albeit in a different context. She was okay. She just felt she needed more time to go over her notes. But me? hmm lemme show you a conversation I had early on in the semester with one of my closest friends, Benedicta. She's in Tech, 4th year. In case you didn't know, my name is Evans. She calls me Evvs.


















 I didn't even have notes. I couldn't keep up with the truckload of assignments and projects. I couldn't even stay for two continuous lectures, let alone group meetings. And that was how my group members decided not to include my name in a Political Communication assignment. I couldn't blame them much. The pressure has been enormous for all of us. Special thanks to several colleagues, including Sandra Hyde, Tryphena, and Kwabena for helping us during the revision week.
What of you? How was your semester and examinations? Great? Wow! ow not so good? Not to worry, if you trail, you can always resit the papers. Just ensure that Frimpong Manso, Esq. doesn't have you "flushed out of the system!!!"

It's strictly by faith that we made it this far.

The semester also saw an overwhelming increase in the stealing of mobile phones. God knows I shed a tear and another when Hawa's iPhone 6 was stolen from her bag while she was in the exam hall scribbling away. I was worried about how I would see her ah-mazing body on Instagram after that. I'm planning a fund-raising event for her. She needs to get another (i)Phone quickly so we get to see her hips on full display ;)



Hawa
Talking about this phone theft issue, were you on campus on December 15th at around 3 pm? Oh, you weren't? Wonso deε. Not to worry though. That's why you are here.15th December. 10 days before the birth of Sir Isaac Newton and Jesus Christ. The Diploma students had finished writing their paper, and not surprisingly, another phone had vanished from its owner's bag. You Kumasi people can stop imagining Kyeiwa's disappearing act. Eyi yε physical!
The owner won't listen to the 'Fa ma Nyame' that echoed from us. She preferred to give it to Antoa. Oh yeah, Antoa. That was an amusing choice if you ask me. Why would you report your stolen phone issue to a god that has had its shrine robbed?
This fine girl in a red dress rushed to the cafeteria and bought white eggs and erm... white eggs and a bottle of Ice-cold Star Beer. Yeah chale, beer for Antoa. She rushed back to the forecourt, called on the Antoa bosom, and cursed whoever stole her phone.
Apparently, her phone costs ¢1,500 only. So she denied God for that amount? Females. Petty bunch. Well, she was lucky Mr. Quashiga didn't witness her madness. Oh he would have called an assembly and dismissed her outright without fear of contradiction from the condescending PHD holders bearing recognized positions.
Yeah, according to hearsay, the Doctors on campus look down on the Masters. But who am I to comment on that? I'm just another undergrad student trying to stay within the 1st and 2nd Class honors. Menyε Doctor, menyε Master, frεme braa.


Moving on. The race to sit in the fully air-conditioned container is on! The top drawer guys have all made their intentions known cleverly. Jonah Eledi of level 300 PR. A. is in the contest of his life with Madugu of 300 Journalism C, Ibs Rockson of 300 PR. A, Alfred of 300 Journalism B, and, and I think that's all for now. These are the guys that have openly declared their intentions to run for the position of SRC President. Their PR skills are in full flight with flyers and banners and dissemination of mass messages and man-to-man conversations. These guys have their heads up because that, which they crave, is the very top of student politics.
Salute to David Acheampong for declaring his intentions to run for General Secretary also. Hardworking, and absolutely brilliant, that guy.
There are other students vying other positions but erm... Only Kausara Lukman a.k.a Mama Karo [for SRC Organizer] and Phyliss Lamptey, Queen of Yaa Asantewa Hall [vying for Women's Commissioner] seem serious enough. These ladies are everywhere pulling strings and reassuring us of their credibility and leadership qualities. You might want to note their names. More power to your elbows, guys! Those that would come out of the shadows and declare their intentions to run next sem also are welcome. Everything is set for next sem actually. It's your time guys.




-Turns up the volume: 🎵🎵 for the one corner there; Ekiiki mi 🎵🎵-

Grandiloquent; Politically inclined; Kweku Baako's son; Intellectual masturbater; Camp Nou Faithful; Messi worshipper; Debonair; Unpaid registrar; Your go-to-guy; Chairman of the Rub-Dee Mafia; Ranking member of the Duncans; Dada T-Yaazo; Keteke President; Media Eshun: whichever way you know him, he is everywhere on campus. He's actually the only student with an office on campus. Kay turned erm, 20-something in December and the party organized in his honor was a kra bε hwε. Credits to the organizers [Rub-Dee & The Duncans] for planning an event on campus, in the cafeteria, without Kay's knowledge. That takes some doing. I told you he's the chairman of the Rub-Dee cafeteria mafia. Kay is privy to all information on campus. You can imagine his genuine shock when he walked into the cafeteria that afternoon and saw the jamboree. He was met with "S U R P R I S E" and all that fancy stuff rich kids like to say at surprise parties. Your man was humbled. He was dumbfounded. Then came the biggest surprise. His sweetheart, who was supposed to be at the office, helping the government, appeared out of nowhere and presented him with a tight hug. Kay almost peed in his pants.

KAY and his sweetheart, ESSUMANBA JOSIAH
KAY and CLARIS




A SECTION OF THE DUNCANS




KAY and OHENEWA

Kay with Auntie Ruby 


There are several other stories I wish I could tell you but my sponsors are curtailing my creativity. Remember the Mr & Miss Akwaaba pageant where Bukom Ban ku was invited? What was the reason for the SRC doing that anyway.. How much did they pay him? I think they should have brought in a musician.  Remember the SRC-organized trip to Sogakope? Did you hear of the students sexcapades on that trip? Do you remember when the current Face of GIJ auditioned for Miss Malaika and got overlooked in a humiliating manner? If you ask me, she deserved it. She was too terrified out there. You need to prepare for these things. She should ask Mina the level of preparation she indulged in before going for the audition last year.


*
It's become pretty difficult to achieve First Class Honors. Forget about studies in the meantime. After paying school fees for four continuous years, you may end up with a THIRD Class. Let that sink in for a second.
Out of all the students that graduated this year, only 5 had their names in the First Class list. Two regular students and three weekend students. Congratulations to those 5. Fantastic Five. Hardwork paid off, I guess. A moment of silence for every graduate that's not getting hired because of bad grades.                                



Agyenim Boateng, one of the graduands on that day
I remember the week that list was posted on the notice board. Students had a solemn look on their faces. Them see say nowhere really cool like that. Most were seen in the library busily reading. Others were seen in groups having discussions. I laughed. Oh, I laughed so hard. Like, one day of seriousness won't even get you 9 out of 15 marks in any IA at all and you want to use one day of studies to attain 1st class? You dey joke! Please get serious now and keep it consistent. Only way.



There are lots to be told but we can't spend all day here.
I could tell you about the lecturer that has made it a habit to chase all the level 200 girls. He's married. He's a Lawyer and he teaches... I've been stopped.
And what of the level 300 fresh boy that is competing with a lesbian for a level 100 girl? I mean, what sort of silly contest is this one? Who's he going to blame if a lesbian manages to win over a straight girl? How can you be fresh, be a ladies' man, and be in such a race? Onua, asεm wɔ hɔ oo. I can just imagine me, Fiifi K, competing with a lesbian for a straight girl. Simple. Meet with them and propose a three-some. Everyone cums, everyone is happy.




In rather unfortunate news, a level 300  PR student was caught stealing drinks from Ben's fridges at the Cafeteria. The student, name withheld for investigative purposes, was nabbed by Reggie, who alerted the security men. He was quickly handed over to the police for questioning and subsequent punishment. This incident occurred in the early hours of Tuesday, December 29, while school had let out some 9 days ago for holidays.

*
That is everything I can bring to you for now. Thanks to you for staying with me. Special thanks to the Duncans for making this writeup possible Enjoy your holidays. See you next sem. Till then, yε wɔ krom!

**
Design by : Sly, level 300 PR
Twitter @BoB_419

******
Stories : Fiifi, level 300 Journalism
Twitter @FiifiKhoruz




Friday, 12 June 2015

The Legend of the Area Slut

Her crimes were 3. She maintained that they weren't her faults.

1. She was a female.
2. She was sexy and naughty.
3. She had learnt how to ride at an early age.
Her crimes should have been 4 but she insisted that you can't be plain looking and be naughty. Naughty went with sexy. No one agreed with her, but she didn't care. They earnestly agreed with her in the throes of passion and that was all that mattered. Her name was Belinda but everyone called her Belle. The last person that called her Belinda got a cut at the top of his left eye. She hated the Belinda name and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it.

Belle. The name sounded French but she lived in Takoradi. Belle was really pretty. She knew it. Everyone knew it. But instead of being shy and lowkey, Belle was the area slut. If you lived in Takoradi and never had sex with Belle, sorry, ayɛ late. She was heard bragging to her mom that she sucked and fucked more men each day. Her mom had nothing on her. Belle's speech was filled with profanity and occasional sarcasm. [She wasn't really smart to always be sarcastic].
Belle was getting bored. I mean, anyone would be. Her sexcapades were still amazing as fuck but she wanted more. Olivia Twist. It was a habit she couldn't give up though sex didn't do as much as excite her anymore. Her libido was insatiable. These kids [as she referred to them] couldn't keep up with her.

She hadn't always been Belle, the slut. No, she had actually been just Belinda for some years…

Belinda lived with her mother. She loved her. She didn't feel anything for her father. She didn't know him. He had left town right after Belinda was born. Rumor had it that he fell in love with a 17 year old girl and ran away with her. Belinda didn't care. She had her mother and her other fathers. Every night, her mother brought home a different man and Belinda always heard them having sex. Occasionally when she was bored, she tiptoed to her mother's bedroom door and watched proceedings. The first time she went to watch, she almost went in to try and stop her mother from getting hurt. Her mother was lying on her back with her legs parted wide open in the air. The man was shoving his penis in and out of her. Belinda's mother was screaming so loudly that Belinda thought she was being hurt. Then she started shaking uncontrollably. She shook for several seconds then became still. Belinda saw her smile. Then she heard her say thank you to the man. Belinda tiptoed back to her room and lay there confused. The next morning, her mother left for the market. Belinda's father, for the time being, was in the living room watching tv when Belinda walked in sans clothes. "Do to me what you did to my mother last night." That was all the man needed to hear. He took the 14 year old naked girl in his arms and made love to her. Belinda felt alive. The slut had been awakened. Every day after that, Belinda made sure any man that stayed after her mother had left for the market, made love to her.
That was years ago. Belinda was Belle now. Belle was 23 and easily the prettiest girl around. Added to the pretty face, she had a voluptuous body that got men and women looking at her more than once when she passed by.

Belle was in her zone. She had her face buried in Jane’s pussy, lapping away at the juices that flowed from the explosive orgasm that had just rippled through her. Jane got up and kissed Belle on the lips. She pushed her tongue into her mouth, tasting herself. Salty, but just as sweet as Belle’s pussy juice, Jane thought. They continued to kiss while Jane cupped Belle’s left boob in her palms and kneaded it. Trailing her kisses down Belle’s neck and all over her chest, she grabbed the right boob and flicked the nipple with her tongue. A moan escaped Belle’s lips. Belle was already wet by the time Jane’s mouth got to her pussy.
Her favorite lover was Jane. Jane was a sexy 18 year old girl that Belle had been friends with since school days in Syto. She and Jane shared secrets. To Belle, Jane was as good a fuck as she was. She admired how Jane paid attention to every detail. They both were alike in every way. The only difference was that Jane was light skinned. If being an area slut was a property you could pass on, Jane would inherit it from Belle.

Belle was bored. She wanted to leave Takoradi. She wanted a new experience. When she heard that a white man had arrived and was teaching ICT at the Syto, she knew her that was her chance to leave town. Within a few weeks, she made sure the white man was madly in love with her. The wheels were in motion. The area slut was leaving town. People said the white man took her away because she had used juju on him. Others said she had simply gotten pregnant for him. The stories were many, but one thing was clear: Belle had left Takoradi with the white man.
Those she slept with knew they would miss her. But they loved her more when they found out what she had left for them. To them, Belle was like Jesus. When He left, He sent down the Holy Spirit to be amongst us. Belle had done the same thing. She didn't just up and leave. She left them her own version of the Holy Spirit. If you live in Takoradi and you want sex, you know where to go. Don't be late. Don't be an Otoolege. Belle left Takoradi her protégé. Jane is the new Belle. She's keeping everything wavy. The legend of the area slut lives on.




disclaimer

Thursday, 5 February 2015

EACH MAN FOR HIMSELF

The women at the back were involved in a fierce argument with the mate (bus conductor) over a certain 10 pesewas increase in the trotro (bus) fare. Insults were hurled from all angles in a variety of languages. You should have heard the Ga-speaking women. For a moment, the trotro seemed like your usual pray-for-me church with insults sounding like tongues. I was sat in the front seat beside the driver. I expected him to try to intervene on behalf of his mate. I expected him to try to explain to the passengers that the increase was due to the latest hike in fuel prices. I expected him to say something! But no, he kept mute and just focused on driving. The mate was left alone to deal with the passengers. Each man for himself.
I got off the trotro at my junction and made my way to campus. Brushing the events of the morning aside, I went about my business from one lecture to the other. At a little past 2pm, I spotted a fine lady emerging from the library. Her skin was the colour of groundnut paste. I made a mental note to find her again and start some sort of friendship. All too soon, darkness approached and I had to go home. I said good bye to my friends and made my way to the junction to board a trotro home.
Lo and behold, the first trotro that came around was the one I had sat in that morning. This time, I found myself in the middle, beside a fat woman. I was sitting awkwardly on one buttock. The woman had a lion's share of the seat. I kept my discomfort to myself. There was no need to start an argument. After all, each man for himself.
Gradually, people got off and others got on the trotro. Soon we approached my stop and only a handful of us remained in the trotro. We got to a police barrier and our driver stopped at the request of the two policemen on duty. He got out to talk to them. At the same time, the mate opened his side of the door, apparently for fresh air. Soon enough, it was established that our driver was lacking in several areas of road safety. Chief amongst them was that he was driving without a license and with a broken tail-light. We could hear their conversation clearly. The policemen were demanding 150 cedis before they let him go freely. The driver argued that was his day's earnings and begged for reduction. He called his mate to bring the money over and that's when we realized the absence of the mate. Apparently, the driver had met him just this morning and taken him on since his usual mate had traveled to the village. A guy he knew from nowhere had vanished with his day's earnings of 150 cedis and some coins. This was the guy the driver had left alone to deal with insulting Ga women this morning. What goes around comes around. Now, the mate had left the driver alone to deal with demanding policemen this evening. Each man for himself.

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

Time Will Tell

The roof is caving in
I'm crumbling under the pressure
The weight's too heavy but I ain't even training
I'm angry, I'm consumed by displeasure
My thoughts just decided to fatten
Back then, being carefree was never a crime
These days, I have to worry about several things at a time


Hey Sis, I know you feel the pain
I know you know it's gon' be alright
Don't even think about it. There's really no one to blame
And never forget: I got you baby, I got us!

Hey dad, I don't blame you entirely
I know you regret most things. You are sorry.
I feel it in my heart
But don't worry much, I know life is hard
Although you left, without making things right



Just keep it steady, y'all
Hold on tight, don't fall
I'll be your super hero
I'll take you to a hundred from that zero
You feel me?
Let me be Frank with you
I promise you guys a Sinatra lifestyle
Drake in the background
A smile on my face
I know tomorrow will be good
We'll be great
One day, I'll say without fear of contradiction
That...
I ain't got no worries!

Thursday, 18 December 2014

SEMESTER CHRONICLES.. PT.1


And so it happened that a MacBookPro was placed in front of me and I couldn’t resist the urge to free my mind. Well, yea, you all know my love for the things of the white man. 4th December, 1:47pm and I had finished my paper some two hours ago. No paper in the next five days and I thought, why don’t I tell you about the semester (from my perspective) even before it ends. . .

Was it not some 14 weeks ago that school reopened? It seems so like yesterday. Days do travel faster than the speed of light these days. Among other things that happened, first year students arrived on campus this semester, they weren't fortunate enough to have an SRC Week Celebration –which includes the highly rated Miss Akwaaba- just because the SRC case had been, and is still in court. Also, level 200s have had their Public Relations event which came off on a Friday, attracted a huge audience, and like almost all other events, had controversy surrounding it. And there has been no trip this sem but there have been a couple of parties. Hold on tight, and ride with me…

September 1 and campus was already bubbling with activity. Either students were fed up with the four months they spent at home or they didn’t hear about the one-week extension. One thing for sure is that some missed their better halves and numerous crushes. They couldn’t waste another day at home. I found myself on campus that day and was overwhelmed by the scenery. A new two-storey lecture hall block had been erected within the four months that we spent at home. Man, that building wasn't a storey building the previous sem. How did they accomplish this task within this short period? In my opinion, which is the opinion of most of us, a storey building cannot be put up in such a short time. Feel free to call it a death trap but it was built for people who had paid millions to study and obtain a Master’s Degree.



I so wish I could skip talking about the freshers but I believe in fairness and equality. These young men and women- sorry, most of them are old enough to be my parents- so yeah, these first year students appeared almost suddenly on campus. A very long, beautiful time ago, there were several empty seats and fresh air to breathe, then..bam, you can’t even bend to pick up something. Your pen fell? I know you bought a new one. The school was packed, chale. I kept seeing new faces and well, inasmuch as some were nothing to write home about, most were simply divine. You wondered if God was partial. Maybe he took time to create some people and for others, he just threw mud around and watched it stick. He created us out of clay, right? Anyway, I will not talk about their mode of dressing. Sorry, but the unpleasantness of their dressing might set fire to this MacBook Pro. A friend, Nana Gyedua, told me once that freshers are very immature, especially in the way they dress. She didn’t lie. Let me not talk much about the freshers. Ebiaa na mmaa no bi kraa pɛ me. Who knows, who knows?

What’s with these other guys who won’t let their fellow colleagues ‘chop’ power? It’s been seven months since we voted for a new SRC committee and still, there hasn’t been a handover of power. Those on the losing side claim the election was rigged so they took and still have the case in a law court. Let’s leave them to mind their own business. After all, they being in court didn’t prevent examinations from taking place. Tchw.

Should we talk about the parties now or we should just delve into other minimal issues? Like when the radio production for level 200s started? Shouts to us who were sweating profusely in a fully air-conditioned studio. My hands were shaking –brrr- as I read my report on air. That guy who sports an afro though, we heard you mention ‘establishing’ as ‘estabrishing.’ WhatsApp this number +233277782999 if you need that audio. The afro guy said lots more of hilarious stuff.

Wait oo..during the graduation of the 2014 year group, the overall best student was announced and err.. why did everyone scream ”Eiiii”? You all were clearly surprised. What was the reason for your surprise though? Did he not deserve it? Who am I to talk about that issue anyway? Yɛnko yɛnim.

I almost forgot about what happened during the vac. It seems a bit irrelevant because it wasn’t a campus event. But reflecting on it, I think it’s worth noting. Sometime during the vac, Miss Malaika Ghana auditions were held and the premises of GhOne looked like a GIJ lecture hall. Not less than 17 ladies from this ‘precious’ institution were there to ‘show off their beauty.’ Many were called, however, few were chosen. Most of the girls were sent home during the preliminary stages. These ‘beautiful’ ladies didn’t even make it into the audition room. And remember, I’m talking about GIJ ladies. Those who made it into the room also had ideas of their own- they could NOT define JOURNALISM. Oh, I would mention names but nah, it is okay. Three of these ladies (all in level 200) got well ahead in the competition and at the end of it all, two made it to the Grand Finale.
No, they didn’t win the ultimate.

I forgot to tell you that I took a break from when I started -  4th December. I had to study for the last few papers. So today is 11th December and I have finished writing my last paper for the sem. I’m in a bit of a hurry to leave campus and get home so let me finish this.
What more, what else?

THA PARRDI:

There was no SRC and all so, someone had to step up to the mark, start, and complete a race on behalf of the SRC. Breakers Entertainment appeared from nowhere… and saved the day!
Splash On Waves was organized in record time, in an effort to help students have fun and relieve stress. GIJ is not like your usual University. GIJ defines stress!
The venue for Splash On Waves was the Beach Soccer Arena, Labadi. The place wasn’t packed so others would say the party flopped. But on the real, you define your own happiness. That’s one thing I’ve grown to understand very well. People might have fun and you wouldn’t, but it doesn’t mean a party flopped. I was there at the beach and boy, did I have fun?! No one had more fun than the guy who got so drunk and missed half of the show ‘cause we had to lay him to rest, literally.


A few weeks later, some level 200’s, in my opinion, were desperately trying to leave a mark on GIJ campus, by organizing their own version of a fun day. It was dubbed ‘Game Gbey’+ Cocktail Party. Consoles and screens were brought from God knows where and former upper lecture hall was converted into the game and party centre. Guys were there in their numbers to show off their FIFA playing abilities and prowess. Others were there to take revenge for games they had lost in the past and to stamp their authority on FIFA 14 and 15. The other games (oware, ludo, monopoly, et al.) were left for the females and the guys who liked to play with them.






Then as light began to give way to darkness, Kasapreko Company Limited arrived on campus with our boxes of drinks. We had been waiting for them all day but na them dey play delay tactics. At a little after five pm, when the party had already started and was in full swing, these guys from Kasapreko came and alcohol was made to beg for its life. The palm-wine that we were drinking earlier was shoved to one side and Alomo bitters and Cardinal were served. The fun continued. These guys dirtied themselves!


You missed a lot if you were not there...
 





Hold on for more 

more please...




A similar party happened again one Friday and guess who organized that also? Yea, same ol’ level 200 students! I was so engrossed in that event, chale. So much so that I forgot to take photos even. I hope I didn’t disappoint my Visual Communication lecturer.

Enough of the fun, folks. Let us talk about examinations, please. No? You are not a serious student? Change oo change! Ghana looks up to you as a future leader. LOL. Don’t worry, I also don’t want to talk about it. Examinations have ended for me. I’m going home now. Till we meet again, folks. So long.


PS: If I forgot to add any event or talk about something, then it's because I didn't remember it. Try to remind me and it will be added in the next edition. Till then, I remain Khoruz.. Fiifi Khoruz, reporting from Ghana Institute of Journalism. 



Monday, 8 December 2014

All I Ask

I hate sharing
Don't touch my phone, don't touch my food
Don't touch my girl. Sharing ain't caring
Stop trying to get to my level
There can be only one. No pairing
I took off from where I left off
Confidence up, I don't even edit my thoughts anymore
Not so much bothered about rhymes like before
I do this with utmost ease
No time to pause, I don't plan  to cease
Still don't believe in me?
Don't be a Thomas. Jesus lives in me
Stop doubting.
Just support me.
That's all I ask.

Sunday, 9 November 2014

A Huge Vision

I've got a huge vision
But I've got bad sight
Been wearing glasses for a minute
One day, I might
Eventually go blind, nah I'm kidding
But blow the trumpet and fly the kite
A young man has a huge vision

And if one day, I lose that vision
May posterity forgive me for failing them
Till then, I'll stay reclined in this cushion
And think, I mean... plan, or just give credence
To the vision I have. No sight but a huge vision
Where's my father? I miss when you used to care.
What went wrong? Will you ever come back?
When?
Please come back. Hold my hand and lead me in the right direction
In the direction of my dreams, that huge vision

Everyone wants to change the world
Not me. I want this world to change me.
They found me like this. Now I need a twirl
Twirl my hair or shave my eyebrows, whatever, just change me
Make my looks perfect, fix my sight, and give me wealth
Change me.
This world can take credit for my transformation
But never forget, I had a huge vision