So, you log on to Twitter. No, in fact, you don’t have to log on. You never even signed out in the first place. So, you type the Twitter address in the address bar. No, in fact, Twitter is your home-page. So you’re on Twitter. You remember that satisfaction that you got when you got that nth follower? How you Tweeted about it for nearly a full ten minutes, which is far longer than you stay on any topic that’s not “trending” anyway.

I mean, anyone can see that you’ve worked extremely hard on building your Twitter fame so steadily and meticulously. For goodness’ sake, you’re so well-known, you’re nearly an internet celebrity now. And for the love of all that is good, you have standards. You spell every word in your bio properly. No azonto abbreviations involved. And people don’t even know how many tries it took you – how meticulously you had to go through all the photos – to get the perfect profile picture. Heck, it’s even been secretly edited with Lightroom. Your phone/tablet’s notification panel is always buzzing with news of retweets. As previously said, you’re practically an internet celebrity.

At this point, you just tweeted something that is, in your opinion, particularly witty. So you sit back and ponder over the brainy marvelousness of your intellect. Then, you get that classic ‘ping’ on your phone. You pick it up eagerly, thinking that someone has recognized the superiority of your wit and either quoted or retweeted you. And behold! Someone has!

With satisfaction, you wait for a few seconds; the next one should be coming any minute from now. Another notification! But wait…it’s not a retweet – it’s a reply!

“AccraTemaKumasiBuwoy” replied to your tweet. “Hi……kfb.”

And at first, it doesn’t make sense. It’s been so long since you have seen or paid attention to such an abbreviation from such a person. You thought we left all of these jon things back in 2011. Accra, Tema and Kumasi? Decide on one freaking place! Buwoy? Is that a new gender we have not yet heard of? Doesn’t it destroy the whole purpose of “shortening” words?

Kfb…kfb…what does that even mean? Let’s take it apart, you think. FB…Facebook? No, wait, this is Twitter. Follow-back! That’s it! Kindly follow back. It was a request.

Then, when you finally get over the trivial triumph of recalling the meaning from the dusty, musty recesses of your brain, you realise that there is rage growing within you. Freaking rage. My goodness. It’s like your whole world has been torn apart. This reputation that you’ve spent so long building, someone has just plainly disregarded your status – degraded you to the point where they believe that they, that is, people who have never heard you name and couldn’t have the faintest hope of even meeting you “IRL”, will just get up and blindly follow such an azonto. Ei!

Beyond annoyed, you click on the person’s name to discover more about them, not so much for interest’s sake as for curiosity as to what kind of person would be audacious enough to send you such a message.

You grieve when you read their bio. It is just as you feared: a dyslexic, illiterate array of uppercase and lowercase letters that honestly spell out nothing in particular. It is a self-glorifying bio full of things like “am cool,” “am kewt”, “am awesum” or “am jux me,” followed by either a million exclamation marks or a million full stops that murder the dignity of the Ellipsis. Of course, you wonder if it can technically be described as self-glorifying when, in actuality, it is not referring to anyone’s “self”. These phrases have been left starkly subject-less. “Am” does not become “I am” just because Ghanaians pronounce them the same way.

So, a glorifying, dyslexic illiterate with an internet connection has dared to ask you to “kfb.” For the love of all that is good, they don’t even respect you enough to type the request out in full! Who do they think they are? And why do they believe they have the right to assume that you are “kind”?

Now, to look deeply into the intent of the request. Why do they want you to follow back? Do they view you merely as another plus one to their followers count? Is that all they are useful for? Or is it that they believe they deserve to have you follow them, for various reasons unknown. Again, who do they think they are? What value at all do they believe they can add to your Twitter life if you follow them? You needed to personally evaluate yourself, after all, before you offered something you did not have.

You sigh, too far gone to be bothered to do anything else. You continue to scroll down your TL.

Author’s note: this is satire. However, if I directly sent you the link to this blog post, it is very likely that you have tweeted “kfb” at me, and I hereby demand that you list 5 reasons how following you will add value to my life. Otherwise, no plix.

Yours truly,



My Thoughts: I Capture the Castle

Author: Dodie Smith


I’d been seeing the title of this book nearly everywhere. I frequently read people’s top whatever books to read before you die, and mostly, I find books that can be considered classical. So I was seeing this on a lot of people’s lists. Then, my school’s librarian sent his weekly list of interesting books to check out, and this was on it, so I was like, “You know what? Let me just read the thing and see.”

It was very much not what I expected. From the title, I was thinking it was going to be some fancy fantasy that involved princesses and warriors and sword fighting – and of course, a castle. It turns out that I was only write about the castle.

Far from being an adventure novel about a strange guest, this book was a collection of journal entries by a seventeen-year-old British girl called Cassandra (lovely name, by the way). It was an interesting rags-to-riches, despair-to-hope story. It’s quite beautiful, though I will say the genre confused me. Some said comedy, some said romance, some said romantic-comedy – I’d just call it a coming-of-age novel, though that doesn’t seem quite to fit either. It is certainly comedic. I did laugh out loud a few times. And there are some serious issues in the book but they are presented so comically that one can’t take them too seriously, anyway.

Dodie Smith has impressed me in that she has created Cassandra so realistically, and through her journal, I have known and identified with her so intimately that I found it hard to believe after-wards that she was just a made-up character, as was everyone else in the book. Everything just seemed so real! I felt like it was a partial biography at some point, though many biographies aren’t nearly as interesting.

It took me a while to get into the book. You see, it’s the type of book I used to read when I was twelve – like Anne of Green Gables or What Katy Did or something. Right now, it’s not that my taste has changed, but I just haven’t been exposed to this kind of book for a while. So, in the beginning, it was hard to get used to it again. A person narrating a novel through a journal, living an ordinary life? NO magic, no fairies, no guns or spies? I found it boring at first. But then it grew on me and then I fell in love…with everything; the setting, the characters, the narration…Oh, now, I want a castle.

Oh, one reason Cassandra seemed so real was because of her speculations and philosophies on life. She was a teenager – a very mature one, though, but with views that were independent, insightful, made sense – but were still a bit naïve. Throughout the novel, her views changed, she continuously confessed confusion, and refined her thoughts. That was so intriguing.

Dodie Smith is actually quite awesome for being able to so easily sit in a fictional character’s shoes and write all this. Magical.

Notable quotes:

“Perhaps, if I make myself write, I shall find out what is wrong with me.”

“I am a restlessness inside a stillness inside a restlessness.”

Oh, I also just discovered that she’s the mind behind 101 Dalmatians. That is my childhood. When I saw that, my respect for her skyrockete3d. I mean, yo. She created Pongo! And Cruella de Vil! Can. You. Be. Any. Cooler? You bet I’ll be reading the original book soon.

Side note: I Capture the Castle is also a great book to expand on the differences in culture between American and English, in case anybody wants to investigate that in a literary essay or something. You’re welcome.

-Akotowaa =)


Yes, my posting rate does seem to have gone down, doesn’t it? It’s not because I’m not writing. It’s because I’m writing a lot. I don’t know how this works, really. I seem to have long bouts of producing content, and then I slow down, while I start releasing content. My most frequently-posting periods are probably my most dormant. Also, life is packed. My goodness. Being sixteen is hard in these years, in this school, doing this IB, in this country, and a whole lot of other factors.

Anyway, sometimes this stuff gets to me, and I write things to just…get them out. This is something I wrote over a month ago, when I was near a very dangerous emotional break-down:


Very frequently, I get scared of losing myself. I’m afraid to fall. I seem to have established at least a part of my identity, or, at the very least, where I want to go with it, or what I want my identity to actually BE.

I know I complain about this a lot, but This Place is an amazingly closed microcosm, where so much is always going on at once, so that you forget that there’s even a world outside that truly doesn’t care about this institution’s afflictions. Unfortunately, one might forget that he himself is more than just a This Place student. I will myself constantly not to forget.

So, sometimes, I want to write, or I want to read, but evil voices in my head tell me things like, “Oh, do it when you’re free” and “Wait until things get less crazy.” And then I realize that…hey. In this place, things are never going to BE less crazy. It’s either a horizontal line graph or a line sloping with a positive gradient, where the Y-axis is madness and the X-axis is time. If I were, for instance, to tell myself that I’ll write when I’m not busy, I wouldn’t write another word until May 2016. Or maybe ever. Who knows?

We’re wrapped up in things we have to do and so we can’t even be wrapped up in the things we want to do. I see this all the time everywhere, not just here; the number of teachers who know little about the world aside from their subjects they teach, students who are so consumed in school that they don’t know the can DO exciting things with their lives even now; the number of adults who don’t read books, the number of teenagers whose discoveries through browsing are limited to Snapchat…the list goes on. I don’t want to be that kind of person.

But there’s so much to do, and way too much more to know. My God, there is so much information in this world, so much happening now, so much that happened in the past. (But I’m not too certain about the future.) If there’s one thing my few months of being an IB student has shown me, it’s that there’s so much to know, and I really don’t know any of it. I’m constantly being bombarded with information in the classrooms these days, left, right and centre. It’s made me realize that in future, and even at present, actually, I have to know things. And I have to know things beyond what I learn in the classroom.

That’s the catch. That’s the ultimate paradox of the This Place IB student. You’re supposed to read things, watch things, constantly acquiring knowledge, while at the same time, the IB sucks all the time from your life like a …time vacuum thing…That was a badly-ended sentence. But it’s like someone telling you to go out and eat food while he/she stuffs your mouth as soon as you’ve managed to get around to swallowing the first mouthful, and at times, even sooner.

There’s no particular reason that I’m writing this, other than to basically get it out of my system. I just want to know stuff, and really not utterly fail school – or die. Yeah, I’d rather not die from school. My death must be more epic than that.

Oh, and another thing! (Don’t sue me, Eoin Colfer.) I feel like these four years of high school is the period when I’m supposed to learn like, everything, knowledge and skills combined, so that I have something personal to take with me to university or wherever I may go.

Looking at the adult life, I fear I may someday be too busy to make any actual progress on the path of constant improvement because, you see, I fear stagnancy.

Summary? I’m sixteen, I don’t know anything, I know who I want to become, and I don’t want to go off the track to getting there.

This didn’t quite go in the direction I planned.


Another Letter to a Former Close Friend

You know you’re not in love with her. You know it.

This beginning might seem a bit rude and brash, given that I’ve started this letter without pleasantries and whatnot. But what’s the point when we don’t even exchange pleasantries in real life?

I know you didn’t get my last letter. That’s because I never had the courage to send it. Maybe I have the courage to send this one. Then again, maybe I don’t.

Listen. I’m not trying to be patronizing, but I know what it feels like to want to be loved. Of course, as a friend of mine points out frequently, I don’t appear to have the particular hormones that make me want to get up and look for a boyfriend. But the fact that I don’t have as much interest in a romantic relationship doesn’t mean I don’t want to be loved.

I wanted to be primarily important – a number one priority – to at least one significant person, and as Paulo Coelho said, “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” By something I’m finding it hard not to believe is some freak of nature, I have found that person. The thing is that it appears to be easier when you’re not looking. But the process is made all the worse when you are not only looking for something that is not there, but to compound it, you are telling your senses that they are finding it in the most convenient places.

She is your most convenient option, and it sucks that you’ve given in to the peer pressure. I think you and I both know that you’re not in love with her but…do you even love her? She doesn’t even love you, and that makes it even scarier!

When two lost souls in search of love happen to cross paths, the result is that both are willing to believe they can receive it from the hearts of the other. But if the relationship is based on need and not on nature, what happens when the need is no longer there? You’re treading dangerous waters, my friend.

Let me tell you a secret: I’ve been there. I’ve been drawn to a person with whom I looked absolutely awkward with – and trust me, you two look absolutely awkward – and with whom, also, I was absolutely incompatible, just as, in fact, you are. (Can’t you see it?) It did not end well.

Of course, we are different people, and with all certainty, I can say that you are not him, and I am not her; but I’m trying to dissuade you from performing an action which involves self-deceit. I’d have thought you already had a sufficient amount of that.

But more often than not, I feel like my quest is useless – it will never produce the desired result. Why do I bother, then? After all, if the relationship was not going to work, we can leave it until it starts and breaks on its own, right? It’s not going to kill you. You’re not going to experience any long-term effects. (I hope.) So, why do I bother?

When I repeatedly asked myself this question, I was finally able to come up with the most truthful answer: it’s not about the relationship, really. It’s about you. I love you, and I hate the fact that you still don’t know who you are. And above all, I hate to see you keep deceiving yourself about what it is you think you want.

By the way, there’s something I think you should know about the relationship you most recently ended: it was your fault – and it was your fault for exactly the reasons I stated in the paragraph above: you don’t know who you are, and you keep deceiving yourself about what it is you think you want. And that’s how you managed to lose the one person I thought was capable of restoring the true ‘you’ from underneath all the layers of façade.

Now, I’m about to reveal to you one of the best-kept secrets of the modern teenager’s fraction of the human race: you don’t need a significant other to survive. Aha! Stop, I know where we are! This is the part where you view me as a hypocrite and say, “Then get rid of yours.” Well, I won’t. Because the person you are referring to as my significant other is my best friend – and I believe the most sincere kind of love mankind can have between fellow mankind is the love of friendship. Now, am I going to kill something so precious? Something that neither of us was looking for but we found anyway? The answer is hell no.

But, my love, you won’t listen to a word I say. And hey – I’ve been wrong before! So, go ahead and make your mistakes.


Reciprok Eight: Crossing the Line

Author’s note: This post is dedicated to Deborah Korboe, an Awesome Person. I love you so much that I used your name. 😉


There are few things that irk the Universe more than human beings’ petty acts of unfairness and lack of morals and/or ethics, for no other reason than just because (full stop). In fact, if you are one of those people who explain your petty acts of unfairness by saying, “Because (full stop, indicating that is the end of the sentence),” you should be very scared.

We have already twice established the mechanics of Reciprok Eight as the Universe’s way of cleaning itself from all the ‘bacteria,’ so to speak, that may be poisoning it from the inside. However, in the rather more stupid and irksome instances, the Universe really has no choice but to respond to the immediate call of Very Intensely Pissed Off People (VIPOP)’s Very Intense Emotion.

To people who don’t really understand how the Universe works, (which is basically everyone), it might seem as if these Very Intensely Pissed Off People simply “make things happen,” and hence, are labelled things along the lines of “witch” or “juju-man.” It’s not magic, it’s just being mad enough to accelerate and magnify what the Universe was going to do anyway.

One such example of a Reciprok Eight event goes as follows. Let’s call it…

Crossing the Line

I’m sure you can tell by the title of the story what the central idea of this event is. In case your mind is abysmally slow and you couldn’t even grab on to all the hints in the preamble, let me give you a fair description of the scene:

It was Tuesday, and it was lunchtime. Tuesday happened to be the busiest day of the school week, and all the lessons and responsibilities of the morning and early afternoon left everyone tired, irritated and very much hungry – all of which perfectly described Deborah.

Deborah had just had a rather frustrating physics class where she had had a classwork at the beginning of the period, followed by a lesson involving millions of equations, none of which she had understood. To add to that, the day had generally not started on the right path. Deborah had overslept to begin with, and resultantly, had been late for breakfast, and gotten minimum time to eat her food, which she hadn’t even finished.

Nothing that had happened that day had served to make her mood any better. So, you can imagine her irritation when she walked into the cafeteria at lunchtime to meet heartbreakingly long lines.

Long lines are generally not what one wants to see in the cafeteria when one is hungry and the jollof smells so good. Heaving a massive sigh, Deborah went to join the nearest line, praying to God that the food wouldn’t get finished before she got to the front.

As she inched her way at a snail’s pace towards the front of the line, it simply got longer behind her, and she simply got angrier and hungrier. Then in walked two of her classmates, both boys and though she didn’t have them in sight then, they quickly surveyed the premises, trying to form a plan to get their food as soon as they could, by the easiest means. Unfortunately for both parties, the one that they settled on was the line Deborah happened to be standing in.

With wolfish smiles that would have fit better on the faces of a pair of ugly, mischievous elves, they approached the person right in front of Deborah, trying and failing to look very innocent. At this point, Deborah was only just beginning to feel some sort of hope for her food. It was rather bad timing when one of the boys, whose name happened to be Joshua, said, with that horrid smile and a couple of horrid “Real G” gestures, to the person in front of Deborah, “Abeg, chale, make we cut small.”

Perhaps Debbie would have left the case for the boy in front of her to handle. Perhaps. The problem here was that he was a junior and Joshua was a senior. He wasn’t a particularly brave and audacious junior, though, so he didn’t have the courage to stand up for himself or for justice. So, Debbie judge, it would be justified if she decided to intervene. All these thoughts ran through her mind in the flash of a second, because before anyone knew it, Deborah was speaking to Joshua, in her dangerous voice – the low and serious one.

“Go to the back of the line,” she said sternly.

The boys blinked as if only just realizing she was there.

“Herh!” said Joshua. “Have you seen how long the line is? By the time we get here, the food is finished!”

Of all the ridiculous things in the world to say! Possibly, Deborah could have tried to control her temper. But if there was anything at all that had the potential to ignite her fury, it was very stupid responses. This was one of them.

Hence, she began to nearly yell, “Oh, really? You think the line is long/ Look at it.” She gestured to the end of it. “Look at it! Take a look at all these people. That’s how many people you’ll be inconveniencing if you cross the line. Do you honestly think that’s fair? Listen, the longer you wait, the longer the line gets. What makes you think you’re hungrier than all of these people, ehn? Please, stop being foolish and go to the freaking back of the line!”

At this point, people were staring, and Kevin, the weaker of the two boys, was starting to look quite shameful. He tugged on Joshua’s sleeve. “Chale, Josh, make we just go to the back,” he suggested hesitantly.

“You can go if you want,” said Joshua. “As for me, I’m getting my food.”

Deborah glared with an intensity that actually made Kevin visibly cower. Unable to withstand it, Kevin conceded and walked to the back. Joshua, however, the obstinate monkey that he was, rudely stepped in in front of the poor junior boy.

Deborah seethed. At that moment, she wished more than ever that she had the supernatural ability to curse people. She’d have hexed him right there and then. But since, as we have already established, there are no witches, just Very Intensely Pissed Off People, Deborah became one right then. As usual, the Universe had to respond to her call.

It didn’t, however, do it immediately. So, Deborah harnessed her pissed-offness for quite a while, lest the Universe dare to forget that she was a VIPOP. With time, all the emotion did was grow…

And so Joshua enjoyed his meal for the time being, while the taste of Deborah’s food was somewhat reduced in quality due to her own annoyance. For the next three days, every time Deborah looked at Joshua, it was a glare, and every time Kevin saw Deborah, he shrank back. All the while, Deborah was wishing curses upon him from all four corners of the nearly spherical earth.

But at the end of the third day…it came. On Friday night, at the end of the week, naturally, everyone was worn out and more than ready to begin the weekend. They were also very hungry. The problem was that food on Friday tended to get finished if one did not arrive early enough, and so by five-thirty, the cafeteria was already packed with hungry students attempting to make lines. Woe betide you if you showed up any later, like at five thirty-five.

Deborah, arriving at five thirty-three, already met a line of at least thirty students long, and even after she joined, the rate at which the line’s length was increasing was alarming.

Lo and behold, Joshua showed up, walking in with an arrogant swagger at (wait for it!) five thirty-six! Of course he didn’t bother trying to join any lines at that point. Perhaps it was the Universe aligning these things in exactly the most dangerous ways (it tends to do that(), but Joshua walked right up to the line Deborah was standing in – right to the front of it – without even seeing her.

But she saw him, alright.

He was wearing that wolfish smile.

Then he began trying to sweet-talk the poor, defenseless junior girl at the front of the line. Her meek personality was no match for his imposing one. She let him cross.

The anger in Deborah’s heart was of such dreadful magnitude that, well, she snapped. Generally, all VIPOPs reach that stage eventually.

In that instant, it was as if a magical wave had washed over the entire room. There was a significant ripple in the air that only Deborah appeared to have noticed. She felt her hair lift for a fraction of a second. Though she might not have fully understood it, Reciprok Eight had begun to take effect.

The food began to be served. Before long, it was Joshua’s turn in the line. But the cafeteria lady looked right through him, as if he wasn’t even there.

Then a more mysterious thing happened. The junior girl who’d earlier allowed Joshua to cross her, stepped into him. His image wavered as though it was a mirage. Deborah gasped. Was she the only one who had noticed it? She looked around to make sure. The only things she saw on her colleagues’ faces were impatience and hunger; no indication that a boy before them had just turned into a ghost.

It dawned on her then that she was the only one who could see him. She watched as the expression on his face progressed from initially shocked to rather confused to utterly bewildered, and then unmistakeably frightened as person after person simply stepped right through him and got their food.

He waved his arms. He yelled. (Only Deborah could hear, so only she noticed.) He stepped backwards and forwards and attempted to even push people, but his hands just went through their bodies and out.

Debbie had no idea how it had happened, but she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Very soon, she was at the front of the line. While acting as if she didn’t realize he was there, she said in an undertone, so only he could hear, “Hello, Joshua.”

“You can see me!” responded Joshua in astonishment.

“That’s true. And I’m not sure I know why. But I don’t have to. I think I like it, either way.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening! Why can’t anyone see me? Why does everyone else get to eat their food? I’m hungry. It’s not fair!”

Deborah nearly choked while making her way to a free seat. “Not fair!” she whisper-shouted back. “You’re one to talk about fairness. You, who would gladly inconvenience so many people for the sake of your own hunger…now imagine what the last person in the line feels like. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m hungry!”

“No kidding.”

“How do I get rid of this…thing? Juju – magic – curse – whatever it is? I need to get my food! What have you done to me, you witch?”

“I’m not a witch. I’m as clueless about your foolish condition as you are. And I’m no expert in the supernatural or anything, but usually, when people want food, they join the line.”

“Isn’t that what I did?”

Deborah gave him a killer glare. “Go to the back of the line, you imbecile!”


“Do it.”

“It’s too long.”

“Do it.”

“The food will get finished!”

“Just do it! Maybe the Universe let you off the hook before, but it looks like this time…you’ve genuinely crossed the line.”

She didn’t know how right she was.

Joshua fumed, and joined the back of the line with as much reluctance as a Kumasi man being made to enter the sea. But, by the time he got to the front of the line, the food was already finished. The very last serving had been given to the person directly in front of him,

Now clearly visible, Joshua clenched his fists in agitation.

Reciprok Eight had done its job.


Blog Nomination Distins

Hello, everyone.

This is probably the first time I have ever addressed a blog post to you as the audience, for like, no other purpose. But you deserve it, because you’ve been a great audience. Isn’t it interesting how these days, we can find comfort online where we cannot find it in real life?

Alright. I’ve put this off for far too long, because I’m not very good at self-hype things, but it would be unfair not to announce this.

Special thanks to Yirenkyiwa for nominating me for the Ghana Blogging and Social Media Awards, organised by @BlogingGhana (Twitter), because I’ve been shortlisted for two awards:

1. Best blog (akotowaa.wordpress.com) (which is where you are now, if you’re reading this.)

2. Best blogger. (Ivana Akotowaa Ofori) (which happens to be me.)


So anyway, thank you all so much for being readers and for being awesome. And voting is open, so you can

See the nominations here: Award Nominations

And you can vote for me here: Voting

Also, please vote for ayawuku.wordpress.com for Best New Blog.

Thanks. =)

Smiles and unicorns,