So these were to be the instruments of her torture. Six inch cloth strips. A flat wooden spatula. A bubbling pot of molten wax – all waiting to do the bidding of the grim faced Jamaican …
Author: Malaka
The entrance to the Amakom Children’s Park was a sad sight. The fence surrounding it had long fallen into disrepair, the ground was overrun with weeds and what were certainly once splendid shelters were reduced …
Two months. It had been two months since Pomaa had taken on three of Uncle Ekow’s projects and seen them to completion. Pomaa still had not been paid for her labor. That was the funny thing …
Nhyiaeso is a suburb of Kumasi, and there are five women who have – and always will – run it. Auntie Dina was a reformed go-go dancer who had found Christ in 1979. That was the …
The drive to Kumasi from Accra should have only taken four hours. It took Pomaa and Frema six. This is what happened every time Frema “fell in love”. She literally wanted to stop and smell life’s …
“Wooooooo!!!!!” Frema threw her hands in the air the moment she walked through the red upholstered doors at Club Aphrodisiac, shaking her hips and smiling at anyone who glanced her way. Pomaa rubbed her elbow and …
You couldn’t miss her, standing there amid the crowd dressed in a sequined bustier and bright, white jeans and an even brighter smile. The crowd seemed to part as Pomaa made her way towards Frema’s statuesque …
The first month of Pomaa’s self-imposed exile was absolute. Ibadan society was not so varied that she could not bump into anyone who did not previously know of her wedding, or have some hand in it …
“Oh. Agyapomaa…is this how you keep your room? No wonder my son didn’t fight me as hard when I demanded he break up with you.” Madame Okoye kicked a silk blouse to the side with the …
Someone was pounding on the door. Ewurade*, why wouldn’t they stop? It was like a thunderstorm shaking a small forest. Why so vicious? Just stop it already! “Pomaa! Pomaa, open the door now!” Silence. “Pomaa, we …