Annette woke to the sounds of the gardener chopping down the hibiscus plant with his machete. She loved the vibrant color and the cheer that the plant brought to the garden, but Mr. Prah was allergic to its pollen and had it cut down every time the plant was in bloom. She wondered why he didn’t uproot the bush altogether, and she suspected that he only kept destroying it year after year to add further to her torment.
She pulled her aching body out of her bed and threw on a morning coat and chaley wote. It was now past noon and she expected that Mr. Prah would be out of the house. Sleep abandoned her …

When Afosua woke up the next morning she was startled to find herself on the sofa of her living room. She dragged her aching body to the bathroom and prepared to brush her teeth. When she looked in the mirror, her reflection shocked her. Blood red eyes stared back at her and white tracks lined her cheeks. She had been crying in her sleep.
She blew out a loud breath and prepared to go to work. There were no emotions attached to numbers, only facts. She was happy to have her job to save her from her feelings. She couldn’t deal with them today.
When she walked into the office she flung her bag and her briefcase …

Annette couldn’t believe how incredibly bored she was. She really hated these types of events, especially when they separated her from the only person who gave her any sort of spark. She watched from the dinner table as Mr. Prah was giggling foolishly with men whom had worked long ago. They at least had had the self-respect to retire long ago and let a new generation take over their duties at the import and shipping company that Mr. Prah owned; but Mr. Prah himself refused to…until now. It was as though the man enjoyed being a relic in a self-constructed tomb. Her boredom soon turned to shame as she saw Mr. Prah pulled one of …

Afosua couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that her search for Tony had turned up fruitless. She also felt a little foolish for going out on the chase, when she was only accustomed to prowling. Tony’s phantom was taking her out of her comfort zone, and she wasn’t certain she appreciated it. By the time she got back to the office, it was nearly closing time. Traffic had been brutal, and the 3 hours she’d spent driving had exhausted her. She decided she would just hang around her office until she could sail home.
When she arrived, she was pleasantly surprised to see Gertrude still at her desk. She was intently staring at her screen …

Two weeks had passed since Afosua had seen Tony. She was surprised at how frequently her thoughts had turned to him in the days since she had unceremoniously dropped him off at the corner and driven off. Unaccustomed to this new sensation, she decided to seek him out.
It would be easy enough to find him. All she had to do was show up at New Spirit International Church, which although was a house of worship was now hostile territory for her. Still, she had to investigate and resolve this new infatuation.
“I’ll be taking a long lunch today,” Afosua informed Gertrude. “If anyone is looking for me, they can always reach me on my BB.”
“I’ll let …

When did you hear the word “fuck” for the first time? I heard it for the first time in Sunday school when I was an innocent eight-year-old girl (yes, I will start therapy soon).
An impish boy, whom we shall call John, gave someone the middle finger while we were all singing: Jesus loves me this I know. Immediately, a tittle-tattler among us yelled:  “Bro. Sammy! John just told someone to fuck off?!!!” So, Bro. Sammy, our long-suffering Sunday school teacher was forced to tell us, albeit shamefacedly, the concise meaning of the word “fuck” and why good Christian children do not use that word. Don’t ask me to tell you what Bro. Sammy said, I …

The drive from Labone to Tema was long and stressful. Annette hating driving, but if she wanted any sort of independence it was a skill she had to develop. She had depended on drivers her whole life, and if her parents had use of the two they had on staff, she was always stranded. She vowed that that would not always be the case when she was married with a house of her own.
When she got to Community 11, she parked her car, sat outside of Sophia Ike’s house and took off her wedding ring. Once it was off her finger, she dropped it in her purse and rang the gate bell.
The watchman opened it …

When Afosua got back to her office after her lunch with Naa Akweley she was more than shaken. It had not gone anywhere near how she’d planned, and that surprised her. Afosua had always prided herself about being calm under pressure, and generally very pragmatic, but there was something about Naa Akweley that unsettled her. She wanted to find out what it was, but since she had told Naa Akweley to basically fuck herself, there was no chance of that.
Naa Akweley would have been a useful ally because her husband was an influential man. Ian Blankson was the senior pastor of one of Ghana’s three mega-churches, and his congregation included statesmen, businessmen and all manner …

Every relationship has its risks and its benefits. The key to having a successful relationship is learning to nurture those benefits so that they dwarf the risks, or to eliminate it completely if those risks prove to be lethal. Afosua was in the nurturing stage with Naa Akweley Blankson, but she had to long admitted internally that she was looking forward to terminating this relationship when the time was right.
As she strode purposely to their reserved table at Tante Marie Restaurant in Labone, she was greeted by Naa Akweley’s scowling face. Annette Baffoe was sitting with her, also stony faced.
“You’re late,” scolded Naa Akweley.
“Yes…Sorry. I am indeed 8 minutes late,” Afosua conceded apologetically.
She was not …

Afosua was not a beautiful woman, but she was difficult to ignore. At 5’8’’ she stood taller than most women and eye to eye to most men. Her skin was mahogany brown with red undertones, and her eyes were the color of coal. They were cool and piercing, taking in everything she surveyed. There was an enigma about her that made people either want to get to know more about her, or shy away completely. That is the way it was with her: all or nothing.
When she walked into the office, the receptionist greeted her warmly.
“Good morning, Ms. Gyemfi!” she chirped.
“Good morning, Gertrude,” she returned. “Where are the big guys?”
Afosua looked towards Mark Phillips and …