A short time…

[Recently, I was lucky enough to be selected as one of 22 writers to participate in a Farafina Trust workshop led by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, a writer whose books I love. The workshop helped me realise that I want to specialise in writing creative non-fiction. This is my first creative non-fiction piece]


It was one of those hotel rooms where men who work in the lower ranks of Ghana’s civil service take their newly acquired girlfriends to for a ‘short time’. The walls were a strange shade of white; the bed had sheets that must have been white once upon a time, and the cleaner consistently missed the rat dropping that clung stubbornly to the wall beneath the air conditioning unit.


He had spent two nights in my bed, and on this third day I lay alone amongst the sheets thinking:

I miss him in my bed. Why do I miss him in my bed? Its not like we did anything the two times he slept over.

The first time he came over for a chat, and because there are no chairs in this room the only logical place for us to sit was on the sprawling bed that dominated this short time hotel. We had only met three days ago and I detested him on sight. He was one of those good looking men that seems to coast by on good looks, well cut suits, and his use of big words. Everything about him had rubbed me up the wrong way. Why was the workshop trainer simpering at him when he had gotten to the workshop a whole hour later than scheduled? We had all been told to check in the previous evening so that we could start the workshop promptly at 8am and Kofi Asante rolls in at 9am blaming traffic for his late arrival. Mtcheww. I guess he couldn’t sense my irritation because at lunchtime he sat next to me although there were plenty of seats available at all the other tables. I can’t even remember what we spoke about now but minutes later I found myself laughing at a joke he told even though it wasn’t very funny.  And three days later I found myself saying, “make yourself comfortable”, which somehow led to us lying side by side with 10 inches of space between us. He fell asleep mid conversation. He looked so innocent lying there. Not a worry crossed his brow. I fantasised about closing those 10 inches until I too fell asleep. In the morning we were strangely comfortable with each other

Good Morning


 Sorry I crashed here last night

 That’s completely okay

I didn’t rush off to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth like I normally would on those days that Michael stays over. We chatted for another half hour about I don’t know what, and then at about 7.30am he left for his room to get ready. Both of us were late for that day’s workshop.


On the second night we ended up in my room to discuss the intricacies of ‘Transformational Leadership’, the reason for which we had left our families for a week and retired to this short time hotel in the mountains of Aburi. Kofi must suffer from narcolepsy because after we had discussed the difference between leaders and managers he nodded off once again. I went to the bathroom to change and settled back besides him maintaining a respectable gap of 10 inches, and immediately fell asleep.

On the third day he slept in his own room. I felt strangely lonely. We chatted over Black Berry Messenger:

Kofi: What are you up to?

Nana: Lying in bed…was just thinking I miss you sleeping in my bed.

Kofi. I miss you too. A little

Nana: Only a little? 🙁

Kofi: Lol. I’m being a hard guy

Nana: 🙂 If you say so


On day 4 he came to my room and we talked till 3am.  “I definitely want us to stay friends,” I said. “I want that too” he responded. “Sex always causes complications”. How did we then end up agreeing to have sex on day 5 knowing full well that our workshop ended on day 7? “That way there won’t be any awkwardness”, I eagerly agreed with him.


On day 5 for the very first time we sat next to each other during the workshop. We sat in the last two chairs right at the back of the room. The facilitator carried on about the leadership style of Shackleton. Why are we talking about the leadership style of Shackleton when we could be discussing Yaa Asantewaa’s inspiring leadership I wondered? In between half hearted attempts to listen to Ms Facilitator I traced a path along Kofi’s thighs. He had firm muscular thighs. I slipped my hand under his shirt and felt his love handles – he had none but he gasped and returned my hand to my own thigh. “Stop it” he whispered but I don’t think he meant it. “I want to kiss you,” he said. “We could go to the bathroom round the back but everyone will notice if we walk out” I said. So we sat in the workshop, answering questions when we were called to do so, and holding hands underneath the table.


That night I had a shower and came back to the bedroom. Kofi was already in bed with the sheets riding low around his hips. My Genius Mix was playing whichever artist it had randomly decided to settle on. “That’s not sexy time music,” he said. I laughed and went over to my computer. Who could I play I wondered? I love Maxwell but Maxwell is too much for plain old sex. Oh I know, I’ll play Robin Thicke, he’s the right mix of sexy without being overly lovey dovey. He started singing along to “Got 2 Be Down”, and I got back in bed.  He had big strong arms and a broad chest. I rubbed my hands over his arms, and over his chest. He kissed me deeply, and suckled on my lower lip, I nibbled back. He touched my boobs, one after the other and I lifted my right boob so he could suck on it. I touched his thighs and made my way to his dick. He was huge. Big dicks kinda scare me. I’ve never been one of those chicks who lusts after the mythical Mandingo dick but here I was with one in my sheets. He drifted down my body and parted my legs. He traced the outline of my clit with his tongue. I clutched his arms. It felt like he was tracing the figure of 8 on my clit. I started to breath faster and clutched his arms even tighter. He tossed his head from side to side. “Ah. That feels good. That feels really good”. He grabbed my arse and opened me up even more to him. I bit my lip and felt my orgasm starting from my pelvic area and spreading throughout my body. “I’ve cum, I’ve cum, I’ve cum”.

20 comments On A short time…

  • Love your style Nana.

  • Somebody help me, since English came by boat, I just want to clarify-non-fiction means REAL LIFE, right?!

    If so, NANA-when I grow up, I really really want to be like you!

    Good lawwwwwwd, you got a Mandigo. That’s wassup!! I wish this was possible to measure with just eyes….before opening trouser and finding a walnut.

  • @Kafui – Thank you hun

    @African Mami – You crack me up! English did indeed come by boat, and yes creative non-fiction is real life 🙂

  • I want to throw that wink across borders.
    Under my very nose, I say. ehem. That’s a cough, or a cleared throat.

    Nana, you’re well on your way. This is how knowledge is internalised and utilised. The workshop was not wasted on you. The need to read you is greater now. Correct ‘girl’. 😉

    Btw, glad someone ‘enjoyed’. Was a tad annoyed that nothing was happening across the hallways, if you catch my meaning.

  • Wow. As someone with a suspicious nature, I assume this is a thinly veiled portrait of what really occurred behind the scenes at Farafina. As we said in workshop, is it true?

  • Chale, heh. Exposing me on the worldwideweb. And putting ALL my particulars on show? I think I’m going to have to change my name

  • hmmm…. good stuff Nana.

  • Love it Nana, you have a way of bringing the reader right in to the atmosphere. Threesome lol. I wish I had been at the workshop to hear you read this.

  • Sounds like Kofi Asante might need a publicist and a scheduler to handle incoming requests, Nana!

    [Actually, could you do me a favor and use my name as a pseudonym next time?]

  • @Mazi – Hahaha. You’re cracking me up. Glad to know the workshop wasn’t wasted on me 😛

    @Mona – Thinly veiled? Oh dear 🙂 The question I want to ask you is, ‘Does it sound like fiction’?

    @Kofi Asante – *batting eyelashes* You know you love it really…

    @ Kechi – Thanks sis

    @MsAfropolitan – I didn’t read this at the workshop o, but I did start writing it there. Thanks sis, I’m glad I could bring you into the story.

    @Kofi A – Hmmmm. Na waa for me o. Hahaha. And yes, I will make you the star of my next creative non-fiction piece

  • How come everyone keeps getting sum but me, huh? 1… 2…3 … hint… talking offers 🙂

  • Non-fiction? Hmmm! Ei Nana Darkoa…wo b3 ku me oo. Herh! I love love love it.

  • @babyjet…weep not child (lol) u’re not the only person not getting some, I believe there’s a dry spell going round…someone wake me when it starts raining men, women and sex again.

  • Nana, we really need the ‘Like’ button and we promise not to be voyeurs 🙂

  • @babyjet – Hehehe, apparently you’re not alone 🙂 @Dee – M3 ku wo nanso wonwo @Chrissie – Ha! You’re in cahoots with Kofi A I see. No worries, the re-design of the new website is ready (I just need to finalise some images) so I’m sure we can incorporate a like button…which will immediately be taken off if people take to only liking a post 😛

  • Hm hm hmmmm…So wht happened on day 6 & 7?

  • @Nana Akosua – Hmmm, initially I was planning to elaborate on day 6 & 7 until it became apparent to me that the anonymity of Mr Asante had been compromised 🙂 Saying that, Mr Asante told me ages ago that he would write his own response…I’m still waiting on that 🙂

  • Brilliant! Well done Nana! Enjoyed reading that…I never meet hotties like this at training conferences though…*Sigh*

  • @Lois Lagos, Thanks hun. Trust me, 99% of the time I don’t meet (or connect with the few) hotties at conferences 🙂 I wish that was the case though…I attend quite a few conferences and that would definitely make my experiences a lot more fun

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