Archive for October, 2012



Indecision is the thief of opportunity.

You cannot change your destination overnight, but you can change your direction overnight.

I used to say, “I sure hope things will change.” Then I learned that the only way things are going to change for me is when I change.

It doesn’t matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes. What matters most is getting off! You cannot make progress without making decisions.

If you don’t like how things are, change it! You’re not a tree.


Ayomah’s Story (Sequel 52)

                                  Mad Woman Impregnated

Beaten by heat and dust and a need to attend to nature’s call, I tiptoed across an over-heated tarred road to a public toilet few meters away. Noticing the weariness of tragedy on my face, a certain cobbler offered to sell a pair of second-hand shoes to me at a discount. I didn’t have $10, not in my pocket, not in my account, not anywhere. I was flat broke.

“Okay just give me $5 and have them. Its 12 mid-day now, how can you keep on walking barefooted under this hot sun?” The shoe shine boy asked.

These were shoes with a price tag of $25 being offered to me at one-fifth the price. Yet I had no money to buy them. I was so ashamed of  this  that I lied to him, telling him I’d already bought one from another cobbler and was going to pick them up. It didn’t make sense to him. As I moved away, my shame intensified. Here I was, an ambitious young man. So broke that I didn’t have $5 to buy a shoe, so pathetic that, I’d actually lied to someone who was ready to offer me a helping hand!        

 As the sun swelled to a hundred and fifty times its normal size past mid-day, I became overwhelmed by hunger and thirst. Earlier in the morning, I had noticed—with great anxiety, how the sun had slowly eaten everything in the horizon before swelling to its current size. As I sat pondering over what to do next, a pregnant mad woman sitting a few meters away under a large baobab tree that had a thick trunk with branches spread out, caught my attention. She was in an advanced state of pregnancy—probably in her 7th or 8th month.

To be continued….


Asking is the beginning of receiving. Make sure you don’t go to the ocean with a teaspoon. At least take a bucket so the kids won’t laugh at you.”—Jim Rohn

Success Defined

Now, here is my definition of success: A few simple Disciplines practiced every day. Do you see the distinction? A few disciplines… Here’s a little phrase we’ve all heard, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” And my question to you is, “What if that’s true?” How simple and easy is that plan?

The fact is, when you look at successful people, you will almost always discover a plan behind their success. They know what they want, they work out a plan that will get them where they want to go, and they work their plan. It is the foundation for success. We as humans have the unique ability to affect change in our lives; it is through our own conscious choice when we engage in the miracle process of personal development that we are able to transform our nature and our lives. (Jim Rohn)

                              Penniless and Barefooted

I got up early the next morning before the clatter and clutter of the day set in. With dust on the hair and face, and still shivering from the early morning cold, tears begun flowing freely down my cheeks as Mama’s thoughts overpowered me. I thought of my two other siblings. Patricia was now with her British father in London. Cecelia her Chinese father in Taipei. Mama, alone in Ghana.

Playing the devil’s advocate, I asked my self:

“Who is my Dad.”

“Why am I so dark?”

“Why didn’t Mama choose a white man to be my Dad?”

“At least, I would have also been somewhere outside Africa by now.”

I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t realize my shoes, my purse and the grey traveling bag that contained all that I had, were all gone! I had taken off my only shoes and made them into a pillow. Now, I wondered how someone could manage to push me over and take them away.

“How could life be so cruel?” I asked my self.

 I was now left penniless and barefooted. And despite the fact that I was still in a sister African country, I knew I wasn’t welcome. The Togolese knew I was a foreigner, and I was painfully aware of that. I was heading toward Nigeria—another foreign land. It was now 10 a.m. in the morning. I was supposed to have embarked on my journey to Nigeria. But nothing left on me, I had no choice but remain seated where I was—like a forlorn child, hoping someone would notice me.

“How long will I be staying here, a day or two, three days or more?” Everywhere, there were streams of people finding original ways to survive—second-hand clothes shacks and rickety vegetable stands; wooden cabinets—filled with cheap imported Chinese goods—behind which whispered price-setting over everything being sold. There were also shoe shine boys and shoe repairers soliciting work by keeping an eye on the feet of passers-by.

Fifty meters from there, ragged men with sickly yellowed faces treaded through trash and wastewater to the junkie slums of this African city’s main drain—a pit of filth and disease where cocaine from nearby Ghana and other neighboring countries sold like chocolate candy. Here and there, the streets swarmed with African mini-traders patronizing cheap Chinese imports like flies with their heads cut off. I wondered what the long-term economic cost to Africa would be.

To be continued…