Lifestyle Love Reflections

Stranger things.

Don’t you just love meeting strangers? They are an entire world of possibilities themselves. They know you not from Eve so their very first impression of your character depends solely on you. They are blank pages waiting to be made into a history book that will be read for centuries. They are alphabets waiting to be strung up into beautiful words that pop off your screen.

Strangers bring out the best and worst in us. Do you give your last pesewa to the wretched stranger who requests for it? Or do you hold your bag tighter and mutter to yourself, “lazy bones”? Do you give the large man walking down the street a wide berth because you have been attacked before? Or do you just walk along your path with your fight-or-flight response inactivated? Do you chat for an hour with the unknown person who called you? Or do you give him a cold shoulder because “they are all MoMo scammers”?

I met a stranger today and I was blessed.

This one did not tell me everything I had ever done. He did not tell me I have had 5 boyfriends and am currently playing three at the same time. He did not heal my 23-year-old infirmity or take away my PTSD with the opposite sex. He did not even attempt to comfort my dying soul with sweet words that mean nothing. He just saw me for who I truly am. He saw me, he knew me, and he loved me.

He was compassionate and he was kind. He took his time to answer my questions. He claims ours was even better than the love-at-first-sight kind of love. He says he loved me in spirit and in truth before he even met me. He told me that all my problems didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I felt unloved by those who should have loved me most. It didn’t matter that I could not even divorce my abusive husband myself because the Torah made no provision for that. My nonexistent rights as a woman, my basic rights as a human being, my inability to stick to rules… It all did not matter.

I met a stranger today and he changed my life.

I thought I could never be free from my personal struggles with perfectionism and OCD-level obsessions. I thought I could never be free from the societal pressures to conform and metamorphose into the regular girl-next-door. I thought I could never be free from the grips of my filthy desires; these ones that keep me up at night and soak my pillows until I have no recourse but to sleep. I thought I could never be free from school and work and religion and relationships and adulting itself.

I am at the end of my parchment. My ink is done. My quill is broken. My jar of hearts has been broken at his feet. I have no option but to shout from the rooftops: Come and see!

Come and see the man my heart longed for. Come and see the man who brought me back from the brink of death. Come and see the man who never lied to me. Come and see the man who made me believe in myself again. Come and see the stranger who became my everything.

Just come and see!

I am at the end of my parchment. My ink is done. My quill is broken. My jar of hearts has been broken at his feet. I have no option but to shout from the rooftops: #GetUsedToDifferent & Come and see!

Inspired by Dallas Jenkins and dedicated to the all those whose faith in the impossible have been strengthened by recent life events.

Special Mentions

1. Phontina, the woman who met my stranger at the well.

2. Abigail, the venerable leader of KSMD Class of 2020.

3. Eden, Himanshu, Nfomi, Ronard, Ndiilo, Ipsa and Vicky.



I desire connection… Human connection.

Attempt to confirm this in 2019 and you might not have received an answer. I would have simply laughed or told you that I really needed to finish Money Heist 3 or watch the newest Ellen Pompeo failure. I would rather die than admit that some random guy — extremely undeserving of me — had broken my heart. I would keep quiet and allow you to tease me and tbh, I would smile and laugh with you until I forgot my pain… all on my own.

I am a sanguine.

I can fool for Africa. Trust me, I CAN fool for the world!! I could do this so well that the BBC would write a news article praising me for my many achievements at such a tender age. True, I would have to write that article myself and cry on about 5 people to get them to convince BBC that I was worth interviewing… But I could do it. Especially if I were bored and stuck in the house with nothing exciting to do aside torturing my parents. Aside from challenging every single “Christian act” of theirs. Besides insisting and proving from the scriptures for hours on end, that

#AkuaPokuahWrites is only human.

You cannot expect me to pass my exams and never fail… But still be proud of me when I win an award like “Most likely to start a protest”. Oh they would not necessarily be proud. After all, protest, protest, 3nna 3y33 de3n?? But I would win this award and tell Women Deliver the next moment that I have begun a successful protest in Africa… In my muddy room which houses 7 brothers and 2 pregnant sisters. My dad died of COVID19 and my mom lost her business just two days prior to the planned protest. I could narrate this so convincingly that you would — hands down! — attest to my dramatic nature. It is not deep. It never is. Never was.

I am just an apportunist.

I love to live. Have fun. Enjoy myself. Be what i want. Do what i want. To anyone and everyone. One spoken word artiste I know (whom I will probably minister with on BBC one day – he is that good) and one extremely annoying twat were so irritated that I cried. They are literally the worst. I have forgiven them. But they can metaphorically go to hell and I would be unconcerned. Who cares about friends who only see the worst in you? #AkuaPokuahFeels does not. Unless I need you of course. And need you I will. I have to pass my final MB. After all, my aim is: If in my final MB, I am given a long case which is a urological clinical case, I will be —

Nope. That was never my aim – had never been, might never be. I only had to make this my aim for two entire weeks of my life because one extremely-opinionated self-righteous young man, the LOML actually, forced a group of 12 students to recite this every morning. We hated it of course! Or not. I just disliked the concept. So I decided to rebel. I would intentionally not recite it, then quickly recite it in my head at 11.59.59AM but meekly and truthfully raise my hand as a part of those who recited it “this morning in their rooms before stepping out”. I would raise my hand and feel justified bc I didn’t need early morning recitals to pass. Granted, I have no intention of failing my final exam. Not in the least bit! But any attempt to alert this young man to this personal reality would lead to an extra 2hours of story-telling. Amazing stories mind you… but not too necessary at the time. Not necessary to me because I maybe had to do something for a church that morning which caused me to miss my daily two-year Bible plan reading, or I simply forgot! Need I go on?

I am brutally honest.

Just ask and I will tell you.

But never attempt to lie to me.

Because I will find you, and I. WILL. KILL. YOU!

This piece is dedicated to a man whose forgiveness I need to be able to sleep at night. Help me tell him please!

Special mentions:

  1. Akana the Ubuntu Ambassador. I like him too much.
  2. Zeina the fashionista. She loves her BF.
  3. All my healthy food and mango lovers