Lydia Oppong went to the trunk of her car and pulled out a simple batik dress and a pair of flip flips and stuffed them into a plastic bag. She strode confidently into the jail and approached the warden’s desk.
“I’m here to see my client,” she said addressing a sleepy looking man in a dark blue uniform. “Can you lead me to her?”
The warden looked her up and down slowly before speaking. He motioned at a lurking lieutenant near the exit door.
“Aboagye!”
“Yessah!”
“Bring the half-caste girl. Her lawyer is here.”
“Yessah!”
Lydia sauntered over to a wooden bench and sat, not waiting to be offered a seat. She was the type of woman who made herself comfortable, no …

Gertrude sat at her dining room table admiring her newly procured passport. She cradled it in her hands so that it would not make contact with the linoleum table cloth, as though it might sully it. She was giddy with the thought of leaving the country for the first time.
Her mother brought her a plate of food. The chicken breast was cut into slender rectangles and lay delicately on top of the piping hot jollof rice. Her mother sat opposite her, watching her daughter eat with admiration.
“I’m so proud of you, davi,” said her mother. “I never dreamed that my child would grow up to be so important.”
“I’m just a secretary, Ma,” Gertrude said sullenly.
Her …

Auntie Grace called for her driver to come around pick the ladies up.
“We are going to the site,” she informed him.
“Yes, madam,” he responded mechanically. Samuel had been Auntie Grace’s driver for over 15 years, and Afosua had never heard him say more than those two words in that time. She thought it was an odd relationship to have with someone who was responsible for doing something as personal as driving one to their destinations. She concluded that Samuel had been privy to Auntie Grace’s more clandestine destinations in those times, and wanting to keep his job and good standing, resorted to speak as little as possible.
With each mile, Dumbai became more and more remote …

Naa Akweley woke to find Afosua had already left for work and that she was all alone and idle. She hated being idle. This was not her home so she could not redecorate, and since she had fled her tormentor and husband she had no one to cater too. But there was one person whom she had neglected in the last few weeks that still desperately needed her: her unborn baby.
She called her gynecologist’s office and was able to get a last minute appointment. One of the benefits of being the wife of an influential man was that people went out of their way to make life comfortable for her. She laughed inwardly at the …

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 …

The cock crowed at 4 am. The shrill cry of this domesticated bird was one of the things that Afosua found endearing about being back home, but was an annoyance none-the-less. Generally she would be less than enthusiastic about Nature’s trumpet blower sounding his rousing alarm so early in the morning, but today she was grateful for it. She needed to get an early start to her day. In the pre-dawn light, she made out the shape of a man’s back rising and falling rhythmically as he slept. He was broad and muscular – a magnificent sight to behold – but he had to go all the same.
“Hey,” she said, shaking him gently at first. …

One of the reasons I don’t – and haven’t – written very much for Adventures is because of what my preconceived notion of a blog was. I have always been under the presumption that a ‘blog’ is an amalgamation of real events, and that it was the bloggers duty to report and at times opine on these real events. I have always assumed that a blog was no place for fiction.
I don’t know how I broke free of these mental chains, but I had an epiphany just within moments of writing this note. I can write about whatever I want on Adventures, and however I want to! Eureka!
As Nana will tell you, I am a …

I am hoping to do a series of these interviews with diverse African women. If you are interested in answering these questions (I might switch up the questions to keep the interviews interesting) please send me an email via adventuresfrom[at]gmail.com . It will be great if you could give me a brief ‘sex’ bio so I can decide how best to structure the interview. Let me know your thoughts on the interview in the comments box.
NS: What does sexuality mean to you?
Ms. Choclit: Sexuality is the full expression of my vagina! My sexuality is all about pussy power.
NS: How would you define your sexual orientation?
Ms. Choclit: Oriented to have fun! Hehe. I would identify as …

My mother always told me that douching was not necessary. And she was even against my use of tampons because she didn’t like me “introducing” things into my sensitive parts. (But I still did!) So I pretty much assumed all women knew that douching was old fashioned, unnecessary and maybe even harmful until I saw a douche set in my friend’s bathroom.  Apparently, more African women douche than any other race. Why? Go figure. So I read more about douching and I would like to share some myths about it.
Why Women Use Vaginal Douches:

To rinse away any remaining menstrual blood at the end of the monthly period.
Some women douche following sexual intercourse to avoid pregnancy …

Are there double standards around men and women’s sexualities? How true is this in Ghana and Africa? Why do men cheat? Why do women cheat? How does society respond when a man cheats? How is this response different when a woman cheats? Just a few of the questions I have posed on my fellow blogger’s Ms Cleland’s site at http://maameous.blogspot.com/
Let me know your thoughts