A window to Ghana and Africa - Nana Kofi Acquah Photography

My king has constipated in his mind... or not?

2012-01-22T23:42:00.000Z

Your Majesty,

I spent a big part of yesterday at Old Fadama. I know your people prefer calling it “Sodom and Gomorrah”. Whilst there, I met a number of people who are homeless. Hamdia, Fati and Suweiba showed me where they have to spend their night nowadays; since your “boys” demolished the wooden structure they used to call home. Can you imagine what happened to them when it started raining like crazy last night? My biggest concern is Fidaws, Hamdia’s one year old boy.

Your Majesty, if I may ask... Exactly What Is Your Problem?

Forgive me for asking this. I know in Ghana, this question alone is considered an insult but if you’d… pause… and think about it, you might be surprised to realize you'd never thought about it. At least, not deeply enough. For your information, these young women are not your problem. Something else is. Their only problem is, they need a place to lay their heads every night. When you demolish their “houses” without providing alternatives, their problem doesn’t go away. They still must sleep somewhere at night.

When you have a country where ALL your industries and major businesses are situated in the south, especially Accra, why are you surprised when all your people pack up from the other regions and come looking for their share of the national cake in the capital? In fact, you yourself are the ultimate example of a Ghanaian who came from somewhere in the regions and found greener pastures in Accra. Heck, we even call you "Mr. President" now. Isn’t that proof and motivation enough for all young people to catch the next trotro to Accra?

As you might be aware, Ghana, especially Accra, doesn’t attract only Ghanaians. Most of the youth in all our neighboring countries dream of coming here to seek greener pastures. Unfortunately, when they are coming, they don’t carry their houses along with them here, which is quite a shame since we have to share the few we have with all of them, giving our landlords the fine opportunity to rip us off. Now, how does a girl who carries other people’s goods in the market on her head in the hot, unforgiving sun for a few pesewa coins gather enough money to pay a landlord 2 years rent in advance?

The people you like to call “Squatters”, “armed robbers”, “prostitutes”, “foreigners”, and many such derogatory terms, are often not what you think they are. Most of them work far harder than those praise singers and malnourished hyenas most African leaders, apart from your majesty, surround themselves with. In fact, can you show me a single member of your choir who works harder than these three girls?

Your Elected Highness, I’ve been thinking real hard and so far according to all the symptoms, I think I’m seeing a case of “Constipation of the Mind”... but I might be wrong since I’m no expert. So… what is your problem?

Date monkeys Go bananas

2012-01-19T01:16:00.000Z

When you ask the monkey over for dinner
Do ask yourself, what am I asking for?

The good thing with life is, the signs are always on the wall
We often avoid reading it because we fear what it might spell

But no matter how many bananas and nuts one feeds a monkey
It will one day drive you nuts or make you go bananas

It's hard truth but only a fool thinks they can change someone
Read my lips: People don't change. You can only change you.

When you allow a monkey into your life
You may end up hanging from a tree.

I saw you soar

2012-01-07T16:45:00.000Z

I saw an ostrich fly

High up in the sky

Whilst an eagle sat

In an opened cage.

I saw a snail ski

Winding down a hill

Whilst a hare snored

By a hunter’s gun.

I saw a Pauper’s boy

Become a princess’ joy

Whilst the prince slept

Peacefully in his puke.

I saw I saw I saw

All you can do to soar

Whilst you dug up reasons

Why it could not be.

*These are photographs from going on a walk with my children during the Christmas holidays

Photos and Poem © Nana Kofi Acquah 2012

Prologue to Harvest

2012-01-03T16:44:00.000Z

The shadows of the year gone still linger
Pilfering hope from the hearts of the weak.
But we have already smelled the morning
And come to you with our Praise Offerings.
The drums You hear are of the expectant:
The praise and prayer of the faith-full.

We pour our laughter and dance out to You.
You who fetches water with a basket and yet
Never loses a drop. Friend above all friends,
Look! Our maidens wriggle their waists like tadpoles
To your praise. And our men stamp their mighty feet
Till the dusts rise in worship.

Like libation from the calabash of the thirsty;
Like song from the lips of one in labour;
We offer you the best of our flock and harvest
In hope of an even greater, more fruitful, new year.
Amen.

Poem and photo © Nana Kofi Acquah

Love is not Weak

2011-12-28T22:31:00.000Z

Love is often considered weak. Many think it’s butterflies and kisses, innocence and naivety. Love is far more than goose bumps, wet kisses and popping of cherries in abandoned spaces. Love is more. Way more. To fully understand Love, take a look at a world without it.

In the slave castles of Ghana, you’d find a church right above a dungeon. Whilst the captives suffocated in shackles in the stinky, dingy dungeons, these men prayed above to God. For what, I do not know. To the sick, selfish mind, the ancient command to love neighbour as self is impractical, incomprehensible and unacceptable. The world is dangerous without love.

Over one hundred million Africans died in the period of the transatlantic slave trade and the few who survived were treated terribly by those who claimed to own them. The world is dangerous without Love. Love is not weak. Slavery still persists today.

In every continent of the world, you’d find somebody being abused, mishandled, exploited and used by the strong. Only Love can stop wrong.

Last night, Daniel, my assistant introduced me to some of the young men we will be photographing for my series “Bed Room Portraits”. I noticed the boy, now in his mid to late teens, was reading our lips for comprehension. When Daniel, who has known him for quite a while asked him if he had problems hearing, he said yes. It turns out two years ago, he was slapped terribly several times by a certain man because he didn’t return a pair of borrowed football boots in time. By the time the man found out the boots were actually returned but his kid had failed to notify him, he had damaged the boy’s eardrums. I walked away with tears in my eyes. I might be able to help him get justice but it won’t bring his eardrums back. Daniel, sensing my sadness, warned me there were worse stories and if the interviews begin, I will have to brace myself. Love is not weak. Love is what the world needs.

Today, terrible news doesn’t shock us anymore.

But we need to train ourselves not to get used to wrong, even if it’s happening at the other end of the globe. It’s very common to see someone eating their dinner calmly whilst the announcer on TV goes on with “59 people reported dead in a suicide bombing in Kabul… The body of a woman has been discovered in the bushes 30km away from her house. Police suspect she was raped, robbed before being killed. No suspects apprehended yet… According to a WHO report, a child dies from Malaria in Africa every other second…Flooding kills hundreds in Indonesia. Thousands displaced… Woman escapes shallow grave with her engagement ring. Boyfriend found guilty…” Terrible news doesn’t shock us anymore.

As we bid Christmas farewell and get ready for 2012, I hope you’d remember in every instant of your life, that Love is the better option. Be kind to neighbour. Don’t be rude to the stranger. Don’t judge a person by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character. Remember gentle words are easier to eat back. Fear no one. Respect everybody.

Choose Love. Love is stronger than Strength. Go Love.

*All the Pictures in this post are from the Elmina Castle, in Ghana

Elmina: land of gold, history and sh-t

2011-12-23T09:59:00.000Z

Elmina recently was all over the news for “GOLD” reasons.

Fishermen abandoned their canoes. Women packed off from home.

Children started skipping school.
Everybody went digging on the shores, till the government decided to “pour sand into their gari”.

Now, when you’re caught with even a bottle of sand from the beach, you get fined five hundred Ghana cedis ($350). And the police are vigilant about.

I was quite impressed at the level of silence achieved by this policy. There was nobody digging. In fact, there was no evidence that the people had been digging sporadically on the beaches a few days ago.

It made me wander why the Government hadn’t done anything about the people who defecate on the beach.

In fact, as the gentleman I approached was busy debriefing me on the current state of the gold matters, full grown men were squatting on the rocks and shitting away their troubles without a care. Considering how many tourists Elmina attracts, this whole shitting on the beach business is a total eyesore.

My question to the chiefs and elders and leaders of Elmina; and even the government is, if you can stop people from digging gold on the beach, how come you haven’t been able to stop them from defecating there all these years?

My time in Elmina obviously wasn’t without drama.

After walking away from the shit-infected beach, I walked towards the soccer pitch. On my way, I saw what I thought was a nice photographic opportunity and lifted my camera to my face and started clicking.

A woman who was sitting in the shades, (I hadn’t seen her earlier), started calling me: “Breda O”, “Hey, Breda”, after getting my shot, I lifted my head to look at her. She, obviously pissed from being ignored, said: “So if just after photographing someone’s property without her consent, she makes you disappear like a genie, what will you say?” I thought she was joking till she followed her rhetorical question with that long, teeth-sucking-like, chuckle-like sound that Ghanaian women make when they are pissed. Without saying a word, I moved on to go look for a less resistant victim.

I pretty much stayed at the beach for most of the time taking photos because it is the part of the community that is threatened by the new gold find.

I spent part of my childhood running and playing on this shore… and I don’t know for how long it will be there.

Why Africa is Poor & The mystery of the pyramid

2011-12-15T16:32:00.000Z

The wise men of ancient Africa often insisted on going to their grave with their gold, wives, servants and anything else they could lay claim to; including medicinal recipes, charms and idiots guide to building pyramids. The richest places in Africa are not the huge deposits of gold and oil. No, it is the cemeteries. The learned still die with their wisdom, hardly ever imparting them to younger folk. There’s an ancient African proverb that says: “When an old man dies, it is like setting a whole library ablaze”.

Any race, country or continent that doesn’t invest properly in its young has no future. Recently, whilst on assignment in the Northern Region of Ghana, we met this young boy, Mohammed Osman, who builds cars out of used tins and powers them with a small motor and a mobile phone battery. He reminded me of Malawian, William Kamkwamba, who created his own windmill from scratch. With just a little support, these kids will be the next pyramid builders and hopefully, when they are old, they won’t die with their secrets.

After years of pondering on the secret of the pyramid, I have come to one conclusion:

Africa is not poor because it is actually poor. Africa is poor because it believes it is poor. The people who built the pyramids believed they were smart enough, powerful enough, endowed enough to build something that pokes God in the chin or at least tickles the armpit of the sun and they did it. The only problem is, they kept their knowledge to themselves, and anytime an old woman / man dies in Africa, we have to start from scratch but that must change.

The African today must go back to that original place of Faith in God and self. We have to stop looking to Europe, America or China. Isn’t it obvious those guys haven’t got it all figured out themselves?

We have to stop cladding ourselves with opulence at the slightest taste of money. That won’t cover our nakedness. We have to go back to investing ideas. To educating one another. To challenging one another. To empowering the young. To investing in Tomorrow. We have to move from being just happy consumers to creating stuff the world would be addicted to.

Anytime I see a pyramid, I know it is possible.

Love is Death & other thoughts on a special day

2011-12-11T20:58:00.001Z

(that's not us in this photograph above. Just a photo I took when I used to shoot weddings. I don't shoot weddings anymore).

Seven years ago today, a seven year friendship became a marriage. I still remember sweating like a pregnant fish underneath my beautiful white boubou as I was called forward to be introduced to the family of my bride. I can see her beautiful face as she confirmed that I, the short young man standing before her, was The One she had chosen to live the rest and best years of her life with. I felt grateful and still am. It’s an amazing experience to be chosen. To be loved. To be singled out, among seven billion people and be affirmed as worthy enough to receive Love.

I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a perfect marriage. What I know is on the day you enter a perfect marriage, it is no longer perfect. Why? Because you aren’t perfect. The trick is to see the good points and magnify them. My wife has been great at doing this. Even in moments when I’ve taken decisions that totally defy logic, like leaving the world of advertising as a creative director to become a photographer in a country where photographers are thought to be illiterate, dull and dumb, she totally backed me.

There’s nothing as discouraging as when the one person you love doesn’t respect you enough to trust your choices, doesn’t support your dreams and ambitions or is too busy chasing their own dream to notice you are a part of their life. Sacrifice is the master ingredient that makes Love delicious. The only way to experience true love is to just plunge in. Drink deep or taste not. I see too many people replaying the bad experiences of their past and transposing those feelings and fears on new relationships. Trust me, it’s not worth it. All men are not the same. All women don’t have the same mother. Even identical twins are two different people.

Now, let’s talk about sex. There are innumerable blogs, websites, books and articles dedicated to sex. But, honestly, sex outside of love is no different from hugging a cold wall. Where is the warmth? Where is the affection? Every man, every woman deserves better than just sex. Try love. It can be addictive… as it should be.

It’s hard to be this vocal on Love and not arouse the cynicism in some people. I’d like to repeat that mine is not a perfect marriage. Actually, four years ago, my wife and I took “The Marriage Course”, an amazing programme designed by Nick and Sila Lee. It was a life transforming experience. That was when I learnt that we were not the only couple struggling, and also that if we both were serious enough, we could find ways to make it work. I believe in marriage. I believe loving your spouse is the single most important gift you can give your children. But even more importantly, I believe Love is learned. Unfortunately, most people just jump into marriage expecting it to work by itself. You must work the marriage to make it work. I’m still working on mine… and I’m determined to make it work all the way.

Finally, I must say something I wish I could avoid saying but needs to be said: “The people who will hurt you the most in life are the people you love”. Love makes vulnerable. Choosing to love is a dangerous decision but once you make it… and get it working, nothing beats it. Enjoy your week and remember Christmas is the Love Season. Go Love.

Show your love

2011-12-05T07:17:00.001Z

Today, a twelve year old boy heard from his neighbour’s shivering lips that his father will not be coming back home. He has died in a car accident. His father is all the family he’s ever had and he’s totally lost… but somehow, against all the odds, he will make it.

In a palace somewhere, a crown prince has forced himself on the king’s precious daughter and she’s shattered. Her shame cannot be let out of the bag. The family’s desire for respect supersedes her call for justice and she cowers under the pressure and wants to take her life. She won't. Against all the odds, she will survive. She will meet Prince Charming someday and will feel like a well-loved princess again.

A young man looks out his office window one last time as he clears his desk of all his belongings and dreams. He has a wife and children waiting at home for everything but this news. He’s tempted to jump out into the canal and end it all but he won't. He’ll survive this too, against all the odds.

A pregnant young woman stands at the train station, waiting for her lover to show up. Hoping. Praying everything he told her was true but deep down she knows he won’t turn up. She doesn’t know what to do with herself and the child in her belly. If she overcomes the temptation to jump in front of the on coming train, she will survive against all the odds.

On the eve of her 30th Wedding anniversary, she sits in a doctor’s office awaiting the results. Her good and faithful husband sits by her and holds her tired hand. Her worst fear is confirmed. She’s HIV positive and the only man she’s ever known is this dark angel weeping by her side. She will forgive. She will survive.

I love the Christmas story because it is one of a loving father going to extreme ends to assure and show his children how much he really loves them. If we can believe we are loved that much, there's no problem we won't have strength enough to overcome. Love is always a good reason to live.

Show Your Love this Christmas. Love is a reason to give.

Help someone through their storm. Love.

Have a great week. I love you and God loves you more.

The Crab who walked straight

2011-11-27T06:59:00.001Z

As if the scorching sun was not in itself enough headache for the people of Kotorkrom, they’ve had to gather at the forecourt of the palace to hear once again, what the Princess’ decision was on the new suitor who came her way.

You see, Princess Charlotte was no ordinary crab. She was by far, the prettiest in the whole wide crab world, and being very much aware of her beauty, has decided she will not be pressured by her aging parents, who are eager for grandchildren, into marrying just anything.

As she walked into the palace, eight golden shoes, one on each feet, everybody, including the King, her father who sees her everyday, couldn’t help admiring how glorious she looked. She curtsied nicely, stood by her mom and announced that she wants to marry a crab that doesn’t walk sideways. Age didn’t matter, tribe didn’t matter. In fact, she didn’t care if he was rich or poor, plebeian or royal. She announced if anybody could find her such a crab. She will wed him in two days, and the matchmaker will not go unrewarded.

In less than a week, a husband was found for her and no ordinary crab was he. He really walked straight like humans do. Just watching him walk up the aisle to take his bride was a marvelous sight to behold.

Charlotte’s husband, impressed by his wife’s performance on the night of their wedding, woke up very early in the morning to surprise her with breakfast. “Honey, breakfast is ready”, he gracefully announced, as he walked sideways towards the bed, like an ordinary crab. Charlotte, surprised, exclaimed “Honey, how come you’re walking side ways”. He, surprised that she’s surprised, retorted: “Oh darling, I only walk straight when I’m drunk. I’m a crab, I was made to walk sideways. You, my dear wife, can you walk straight?”

Dream big. Dream wild. Be real. Have a great week!

One naughty iPhone

2011-11-17T11:19:00.001Z

I'm yet to find a photography forum where you won't find a bunch of photographers doing the "my camera is better than your camera" or "my lens is sharper than your lens arguments. Sometimes, I'm tempted to yell at them to just get off their butts and go create some great memories with their expensive cameras.

Have you also noticed how "amazing" a camera is till a new one is announced? Well the photographs in this post were taken on my iphone. They are photos of friends I have made on my way, places I've been, things I've seen. Memories that would have been stuck in just my head, if I hadn't pulled out my iphone to document them. One wise man once said "The best camera is the one you have with you". Shoot with it.

The message on the back of this "trotro" is "There is God. You just have to sit in one of those, and if you've never prayed in your life, you'll start. No one will tell you "there is God".

Giulia is an amazing Italian photographer who did a series on Chinese people in Benin.

It's a must see. She has lazy eyes just like me and we found ourselves laughing at each other because of that.

Peter Vlam and I go quite a while back. His main job when I'm in his house in Amsterdam, is serving as interprator between Jules, his 3 year old son and me. Jules speaks only Dutch and I speak no Dutch.

This photograph is from Bonikro in the Ivory Coast. The little girl shows of her coca cola.

Maxime made our time in Cote D'Ivoire unforgettable. My assistant, Daniel, who doesn't joke with his food, really missed her when we got to Nigeria. In Nigeria, there was no Maxime to over-feed him. Now, she's become my best friend for life.

Kevin is from World Television, and he is the quietest American I ever met. I don't know if it's because he's lived in Europe for so long. His laughter, when he laughs, betrays his roots though.

In Lagos, no one stops for nobody. At least that is the vibes you get.

These two ladies are members of a church group. They were sitting quite faraway from the guys, as we were waiting to catch a flight from Lagos to Accra. I'm Christian but can't understand religion sometimes. Only religious young men will leave two pretty girls to sit all by themselves... except when it gets dark :) (just joking). May be not.

Peter Di Campo is already famous. We'd talked on the phone. We're friends on facebook but somehow, we had never met... till Lagos Photo. If there's one thing I like about Peter, it's the fact that he has a life. He has a woman he really cares about and loves... and a clear sense of direction... I wish I could say that about most photographers. The camera has a tendency to turn into an over-demanding idol if one doesn't tame it. Many have sacrificed love, limbs and life to pacify the camera. Trust me, I have nothing against cameras. I have them in all shapes and sizes but Idolatory isn't cool:

This night in Bogobiri was a night to remember. The band, at least the vocalist, was definitely Ghanaian. They were so good, I picked up their bag and went from table to table taking donations for them. What a band! What a night!!

Yes, that's Marc Prust.

Sometimes, I feel guilty having a top end photo studio in the heart of Accra that I rarely use. Here's my good friend Nyani, who just won an award at the Bamako Photo Festival, shooting in my studio. You can rent it too if you choose:

If however, you prefer outdoor photography, with your iphone, you're not alone. Here's Bertil showing off. I wonder how he's going to photograph those lions in Kenya with his iphone though. Bertil, when you're in Kenya, I'd like to see some close up shots of the lions from your iPhone. Hehehe :)

This is where the train stops today. See you soon and thank you so much for reading my blog. Remember, the best camera is the one you have with you. Bye-Bye.

Colours and Choices (Images and thoughts from Bamako)

2011-11-08T10:14:00.000Z

I just hitchhiked my way into
And slapped my tired bum
On the soft leather seats
Of a locomotive train
That is going no where.If I owned a Sushi-bar
I’d serve choice chameleon meat
So you can have lean viande
In any colour of your choice.

Some people can't see beyond colour.
How does one tell a sick Puppeteer?
By looking at what the puppets do.
A bunch of malnourished hyenas
Will have been kinder to the dying Gardaffi.I hear lots of young African migrants
Are busy donating their green cards to FIFA
But Blatter’s squad prefer red and yellow
If you insist on green, they prefer bills.
The saddest African faces aren’t the starving
In the East. They are the over-stressed in the West.There’s a reason snails and turtles are slow:
They carry their troubles all by themselves.
The chameleon though, is slow for another reason:
He still doesn’t know who he really is.

Coast of many colours

2011-10-23T01:25:00.001Z

The Ivory Coast has been in the news for many reasons… most of them not so positive or downright horrible.I’ve had the privilege of shooting here for a week now, and since it is my first time after the recent war,I cannot help but admire the people of this beautiful land again.Ivorians definitely rank high up there as some of the world’s colourful, stylish people any one can ever meet.Enjoy the pictures and forgive me for taking so long to update my blog. These are really busy times. I leave for Lagos today. See you soon.xxxNana

The death of the empty (for Steve Jobs)

2011-10-06T12:37:00.001Z

Here, when The Empty dies
We cry a little. Just a little.
And then we drink, drum, dance
And recount their great deeds
So the living will not forget.

The common die with all or most
Of their dreams still in them.
They die full. Losers. Cowards.
Procrastinators. Full of excuses.
We don’t even notice when they go.
But you, you died empty: The way
The great do.

And may your soul rest in peace.
(For Steve Jobs, because he truly lived).

Now some photos to cheer you up:

New Neighbours: The African Photographer and The Camera

2011-09-30T04:53:00.000Z

Traditionally, the African photographer has been an artisan. He’s not been considered any different from a carpenter or mason or vulcanizer. Photographic Imagery has been as useful as furniture. You took a photograph when you need an official government paper like a drivers’s license or passport or on special days like weddings and birthdays. Photographs, just for the sake of photographs is a totally new concept currently being embraced by a relatively younger generation, most of whom have never owned or used an analogue camera.

The camera is no longer as unfamiliar as it used to be… but its function as a hammer and not a painter’s brush can never be over emphasized. If you took a regular African photographers’s roll of film, all 36 exposures will be pictures of or for customers. None will be a photograph that was taken for sheer delight. The current list of iconic African photographers, were mainly studio photographers, who either out of boredom, sheer curiosity or marketing gimmick, decided to introduce new props or backdrops into their images. These back drops or props mainly spoke to the aspiration of their target market and therefore appear more to be attempts to stand out of the competition.

Photography came to Africa as part of colonialism. Missionaries often used photographs to solicit support from churches and organizations back home whilst colonialists used them for strategic and propaganda purposes. Due to the harsh climate of tropical Africa and the slow and difficult process involved in making images with earlier cameras like the Daguerrotype and Calotype, earlier images of Africa tended to have less people in them but the Brownie, introduced in 1900 was to change all that. Even though it was not originally embraced by professional photographers, it enabled colonialists who came to Africa to make photographs of the people due its portability and relative ease of use. It is unclear who the first African to own a camera is but one can say that the way in which the camera has been used in Africa, does not necessarily reflect the way the colonialists used it.

The traditional African perceptions of beauty, divinity and humanity are elements that found themselves into how a photograph was made; and yet because art had never been appreciated in isolation, the photograph also was first seen and treated as something that was to be used; just like every other art form was. The akuaba doll of the Akans of Ghana was carved out of wood, and carried by barren wives or girls who are approaching puberty. It was considered a good omen that made a woman fertile. Carvings and masks were mainly made for rituals or as symbols of deities and so were therefore either directly worshipped or used as part of rituals. Inscriptions on tombs, shrines or family homes were there to communicate, often with both the living and the dead and thus often approached with fear and reverence. This is no different from how the photograph has been treated.

In Voodoo rituals, it is believed that the soul of a human being can be invoked or called into a doll or some item that represents them and whatever is done to “their image” will directly affect them, no matter where they are. Among African Christians, it is quite common to see people pull out the photographs of loved ones who could not be physically present in a worship service so they could be prayed for, their image being used as a point of contact. When one goes through an African family’s photo album, it is quite usual to come across the sign of the crucible, inked on the foreheads of deceased members, usually with a red pen. The belief that the camera captures the soul is both metaphorical and literal to the African.

Photography is as much influenced by the photographer as it is by the consumer. Young African photographers who have broken out of the mould of photographing people in dingy studios in their Sunday clothing, can be seen all over expressing themselves on the internet, some of them even being published in foreign magazines and their photographs being exhibited to mainly western audiences. This change in target consumer for the African photographer, also brings with it the challenge of shaping stories to suit the taste of the new buyer. It is a classic case of whoever pays the piper calls the tune. Add to it the fact that this consumer is financially more capable of supporting photographers; and also comes with a rich history of photography… which means its taste is highly developed and specific.

In conclusion, I will state that The African Photographer and the camera are still new neighbours… neighbours who are gradually getting to know each other… and I can only wish them all the best.

A Potion of Passion

2011-09-19T08:30:00.000Z

The only thing that beats passion is wisdom. And by wisdom, I mean knowing exactly what is worth being passionate about and what isn’t. I’d rather you scream or cry or vent but don’t just be. Don’t just stand there and watch life pass you by especially if you know what to do. Live. Like. Today. Is. All. You. Have.

I’m sitting in a beautiful hotel room in Amsterdam as I write this. I just finished attending the first section of the Noordelicht Photography Masterclass… and after you’ve met some of the people I just met and heard some of the things they have to say, you come to certain conclusions:

1. Talent is not enough. If Talent is what it took, the Brazilians or the Argentinians would have won the most recent world cup. There’s nothing as exciting as meeting people who are passionately developing or exploring their God-given gifts. It’s just like watching a bird step out of a cage and spread out the wings.

2. Knowledge is not enough. Some of the most knowledgable people I’ve met, have also been some of the least progressive, even retrogressive individuals anyone can encounter. The main reason why knowledge is not enough is because, this world thrives on action. Church folk will tell you “Faith without works is dead”. If you know what to do, just do it.

And finally, I’d advise you hang out with passionate people, if you can’t find any, may be, you can start with cutting out negative people. The people who have a million reasons why it can’t be done. Or who understand all the challenges there on the way and so advise you to take it easy. Once you cut them off, you can see more clearly.

What we need to succeed is not OUT there. It is IN us. You need to block out all the noise and passionately follow where your heart leads you.

LIVE NOW.

I miss We

2011-09-12T07:15:00.000Z

I’m missing the we
We used to be.

Memories of you wash ashore
Before me as I stroll
This long, lonely
Shore of my now life.

I miss the we
We could have been.

I couldn’t raise a dowry
In your moment of bloom
And helplessly watched
Them marry you off.

Now, I can afford a thousand wives,
But they won’t mean as much to me.

I miss the we
We should have been.

If you don't love you, you can't love me

2011-08-17T07:26:00.000Z

I remember when I was a kid, I got emotionally involved with one particular pencil I had. It had the word “swallow” and some beautiful, colourful birds chirping at the “Made in China” etched around it. One unfortunate day, my dear pencil just disappeared. I searched under every bed, every table, every chair, everywhere in every room of the house and still couldn’t find it. That was my first heartbreak. It was over a pencil. It was no particularly special pencil but to me, it was special. I loved it. I was emotionally attached to it and when my poor pencil decided to go on without me, it broke my heart.

Now, what is the value of a pencil? My swallow pencil couldn’t have cost anything close to a dollar but to me it meant the world. I cherished it. I took as good care of it as my 8 year old mind could manage. I wouldn’t lend it to anyone. I sharpened it sparingly. I hardly touched its beautiful eraser that crowned it. The value of my pencil was not determined by how much it cost or how much money it brought to me or who manufactured it or whether Obama ever used it. The value of my pencil was totally determined by me. At 8 years, life taught me that the value of a thing or person was a decision I made not someone else but I’ve had to relearn this lesson over and over again.

Sometimes in life, we lose what we value and very often, everything we don’t value. I’ve met people who couldn’t see beyond the snoring, the weight swings or the lateness and lost the most precious being that ever walked into their life. If you follow up on all the cases of heart breaks, pain and betrayal, you’d notice it first starts with the loss of respect (that’s if it did exist in the first place). Someone woke up one morning and decided to slash the price tag on their spouse, parent, child or friend.

Quite often when people start getting disrespectful and rude to those around them, it is a reflection of the value they’ve placed on themselves. If you hate yourself, it is impossible to love others. If you think you’re worthless, it’s hard to conjure noble words when you address those around you. And yet, our value is never determined by what we do, what we say, which school we attend, what our last names are or who we know. Yes, those things might be great but even without any accomplishment, you are still God’s most amazing creation. You are unique. You are an original. There’s only one you… and the earlier you start showing yourself some respect… some love, the better.

Remember the children

2011-08-07T07:58:00.000Z

Not too long ago in Ghana, it didn’t matter where one was born, grew up or which school one attended. If you were determined enough, you could move from a basic school by the river beyond the bushes to attend any of the nation’s prestigious secondary schools and universities. Our socio-political systems are full of men and women who grew up in the most remote, deprived, unknown parts of the country but are some of today’s most notable, respected leaders. My question to them is, can the child in your village reach the level you’ve reached, attending the very same schools you attended?

I’ve been fortunate enough to travel through the nooks and crannies of this country. I’ve been fortunate enough to teach in Fumbisi and Sekondi as a national service personnel. It’s heart breaking to watch very brilliant minds go to waste due to the horrible foundation they received. I had 18 year old SHS 3 students who couldn’t spell. The saddest part is, most of these kids were as useful as a half-baked bread. You can’t eat it… and yet you’ve wasted your flour, butter and time.

This is what I mean: When children grow up in villages, they get introduced to farming or fishing or whatever vocation is their primary occupation of that village. By the time they are 15, they already might be owning their first farm and by 18 marrying their first wife. But when you take the child to school, they spend the time they were supposed to be learning the vocational skills, sitting in a classroom with teachers who pretend to be teaching them. The result is they come out half-baked, not good enough to be employed in the job market and also not good enough to even function in their village environment.

I know it’s easy to play ostrich on the issues that matter in Ghana. You just have to pretend the complainant is from the opposition. We forget that when a man picks up arms out of hunger or frustration, he doesn’t go for the opposition; he goes for anybody he can get. When an incompetent health professional is making the wrong diagnosis or administering wrong medication or dosage, their victims are not necessarily from the opposition. When a person who can’t read but needs to survive feels compelled to bribe their way to a driver’s licence, school certificate or even set up a mechanic shop, we all become victims.

Sometimes, I wonder if politicians prefer illiterate citizens. Sometimes, I wonder if we are serious about anything that really matters. The children really matter. Their future is the nation’s future. Quality Education is the single, most important gift any government can give its populace. If you teach them to fish, guess what? They’ll never come begging for food. For the rich, empowered, capable Ghanaian who can do something about the quality of education in this nation, remember: “If you do good, you do for yourself… If you do bad, you do for yourself”.

The Song By The Long Dry Nile

2011-08-02T09:43:00.000Z

These were once warriors’ horses
That rode on storms and tread on lions.
Today, see how they starve.
Pharaoh’s stable stands empty…
His horses and warriors frail and fading
By the banks of the long dry Nile.

They eyes of our young stare
Blankly at God and heaven.
The tongues of the old too dry
To lament or petition or pacify.
The scorching sun eats up their tears
Even before their worn souls shed them.

This implacable plain of death
Was once Song’s own habitation
Where children leapt and played
Like overfed gazelles upon the hills.
Once, Love herself lived here.
Young lovers chased each other between
The alleys and the pyramids
Till they fell in each others arms
Amidst laughter and kisses…

And may those days return.
©Nana Kofi Acquah 2011

"This Poem is dedicated to all those affected by drought in the horn of Africa and the souls who're committed to help them through this season".

Welcome to Ideathopia

2011-08-01T01:01:00.000Z

It is 12:26 AM and quite a good time to give you something to think about for this week.
For every idea that succeeds, do you know how many fail or get shelved… probably to never again see the light of day? Well, in my kind of business, the answer is LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS.

I’ve decided to share with you two images from a campaign I shot for a client that never took off. It probably might someday but I doubt it. To succeed in the creative world, one quickly learns that good ideas are pretty useless in their own right. It takes a whole lot more to make them come alive.

I’ve met too many people who are stuck with one idea they got in 1669 or some other prehistoric era and they can’t seem to shake it out of their heads. If your idea is really that great, then please… get busy with it. Start making it a reality… otherwise, move on.

I’m tired of hearing people talk about having some idea or initiating something and then just when they were about to break big… an investor bailed out or there was the credit crunch or the MD died or the guy married someone else or the girl eloped or they fell sick. The Blame Game won’t take you anywhere. Take responsibility for your dreams and work them. Only you can work them. The Akans say: "No one can take medicine on behalf of a sick person".

The reason why the world celebrates the Bill Gates, Mandelas, Mother Teresas, Ghandis and Martin Luther King Juniors is not because their ideas never got challenged or nobody ever let them down. The world celebrates them because they were totally committed to their ideas and were willing to die (if that's what is was going to take) to see them come true. They didn’t just day dream or blame someone else for not making it work out.
What price are you willing to pay to realize your dream?

Have a great week.

The Poet and the Beauty Queen

2011-07-25T11:45:00.001Z

Perfection sways before him
In focus a moment, blurry the next

Like a mirage mimicking an oasis
Before a dried, thirsty, loveless soul…

She’s not necessarily Happiness
Or Pleasure’s perfect image.

There’s a lot good skin can hide.
The pretty face is the devil’s best mask

Love is a soul thing not a look thing.
What’s it with Poets and lonesomeness?

(Yayra Nego, the model in this picture, is the Miss Universe Ghana 2011 Winner)

Bone Breakers

2011-07-22T11:07:00.001Z

It might be true that hardwork breaks no bones, but sometimes, it really does come close.

Recently, in our blogosphere, I was challenged to re-look at my photography and ask myself “Do I deliberately fish out only the positive to portray about Ghana and Africa?” It’s a question I’ve been thinking hard about:

I made these photographs a couple of days ago. I followed my wife to this market and everybody was buzzing like a bee.

Sometime last year, I was supposed to make a portraits of two successful Ghanaians for the Financial Times. Their office is very close to this market. I wanted to use the early morning light so I told them I will arrive at 6am. Now, please understand that I’m rather slow in the mornings so for me, 6am was an amazing feat. I was shocked to get stuck in traffic at that time and if that was not surprising enough, I saw people hopping out of “trotros” and taxis and rushing towards the market. A few of them nearly knocked me over. On that day, it dawned on me how hard working Ghanaians are.

The average Ghanaian wakes up at 4am. Yes, 4:00 AM to sweep the house, clean, cook bath and feed the children before going to work. Now, the question is, if they’re that hardworking, why are they poor?

Well… I’ll leave that to the experts to answer.

Bon Weekend!

What I saw at the Chale Wote Street Festival in James Town

2011-07-17T15:16:00.000Z

Yesterday, I run into more creative people at the Chale Wote Festival in James Town than I've ever seen in any single place in Accra.

Creativity is gradually finding its voice again in Ghana. Yesterday was proof. Poets, Musicians, Artists, performers, cyclists and all sorts of creatives stormed this ancient part of Accra and breathed fresh life into it.

The cyclists were impressive. I wonder where they train and who trains them. The atmosphere wasn't designed for conversations. The music was loud and the chatters ear-shattering. The easiest thing to do was to just shoot.

Ama proudly showed off her colourful scarf :)

Those who were too lazy to come on the streets seemed rather content peeping through their windows. I also got to briefly meet one of James Town's artists, Attukwei:

Creativity is contagious. I was really touched, just watching the kids have a go at art. Seeing some of Ghana's best artists at work, definitely sparked something in them.

The good thing with James Town is there is always something of photographic interest, whether there's a festival or not. I went through the alleys, capturing some of daily life.
It was quite interesting watching these three men read an obituary. "Who's next?" They seemed to ask:

This fridge had just pulled in for servicing. I wondered if sticking pictures of Jesus on a fridge or writing scriptures on it made it work better. Obviously, it doesn't :)

One of the signs of a good Ghanaian woman, is how white her baby's clothes, napkins and husband's "supporters" are:

Frequent readers of my blog know I grew up not too faraway from James Town. Watching these girls playing mum and cooking reminded me of my own childhood. Normally, I would play either the husband to one of them or the son of one. The husband role was always more interesting:

One of the highlights of yesterday's event was the fashion show. Somehow, I managed to miss that one. I was quite lucky not to miss these guys though:

They say, everything that has a beginning has an end. These were some of the last images I made before I coiled back in my shell:

Behind all the noise, the sea lay calmly, full of history but not divulging much. It was calming to stand in the forts and the castles and just watching the sea. We keep piling history on history... and may be someday, we'll take the time and look at all we've been blessed with as a people, all we've been through as a people and come to the conclusion that: God has given us everything we need.

Have a great week.

Ballerina

2011-07-11T18:21:00.000Z

There is so much on my mind... but nothing on my lips.
Enjoy these photographs and do have a splendid, fulfilling week:

Kama Sutras, Bibles, Thai Khebab and more at Joy Bridal Fair

2011-07-05T23:19:00.000Z

Yes. I was at the Joy Bridal Fair and No. I don’t have a stand there.
The last time someone inquired if I shoot weddings, my reply was only one word:
“Sometimes”. So for my fellow photographers, who had stands there, don’t worry,
I wasn’t there to steal your potential clients. I was there because my wife and I were tired of looking each other in the face and pretending the other was the most gorgeous thing since sliced bread.

I found the place a little crammed but there still was so much to see. Chinese Lanterns, Caucasian Maniquines dressed as brides and future black brides busily feeding their dreams.

I saw a pretty girl I know busily wrestling down a stick of kebab. It turned out this was special Thai kebab. Or may be, the guy's T Shirt had nothing to do with what he was selling.

This is the kind of shop you come to if you're thinking more in the lines of having a traditional marriage. Kente is as expensive as it is colourful. Nowadays, it's also not uncommon to see Ghanaian brides dressed like Yoruba women. Very soon, there might be no difference between Ghana and Nigeria.

When I see all these grown women, not just eating ice cream but also giving their shipping address to the ice cream vendor, I just freeze.

There's a good old joke that if you want to marry a woman, get to her house at 5am and knock. When she comes to open the door, you see exactly who you'll be marrying. I understood that joke as I watched all these regular ladies sit in the Black Secret's make up chair and get transformed instantly. It's as if someone poured layers of photoshop on their faces. Amazing.

This was one of my favourite stands. You could buy anything from "The Kama Sutra" to "How to change diapers" to "The sex bible" to "What to expect when you're expecting" or "Total body massage" but if none of those caught your fancy, you could just buy a pirated Tom and Jerry DVD and find your way out through the bubbles.

Well, Gloria and I didn't buy anything. We had to grab a cake for a heavily pregnant woman's birthday and guess what we wrote on the cake? "MUSU AGBO" which means "BIG BELLY". She was not amused.

Have a great week.

If only the men worked half as hard

2011-07-03T23:38:00.000Z

Ghanaian men work hard too. I'm one of them and I know but... the energy and commitment our women display is just something else.

I just finished traveling through parts of the country, photographing beneficiaries of IFAD projects... their stories are awe-inspiring. I wish them all the best... as they strive to better their world.

Back at home in Accra, these city girls are working hard in their own way... and they deserve an applause too.

Do have a great week and remember... Hard work breaks no bone.

A dozen photos from my favourite beach

2011-06-21T23:28:00.001Z

The last week has been tough. Malaria. I hate that disease; especially what it can do to children. Yesterday, was the first day I was able to go out for a while. I needed it. I made these photos whilst recuperating at the beach. Do enjoy them.
Remember, the fastest way to recover from Malaria is to stuff your belly with food; even though it tastes like sand in your mouth.

*For the photographers, I shot with Fuji's new x100.

A rose means nothing to a bush girl

2011-06-15T10:19:00.000Z

On hot afternoons, the oldman would sit under the mango tree, read his papers, pretend to be chatting up his grandchildren and gradually doze off. He didn’t know his snores always betrayed him. Under those lush leaves, we’d catch up with each visit. One day when we arrived the tree was gone. The old woman, seeing we’ve observed something amiss, proudly asked: “Doesn’t the compound look cleaner and nicer now?” I stuttered: ”But… wha… wha… what happened to the tree?”. “Oh, some witch-owls began camping on it every night, and we found out they were behind the oldman’s sickness so we chopped the tree down, and can you believe he’s been fine since?”

A few years ago in Ghana, we set up the Ministry for the Beautification of Accra. One of the very first actions they took, as part of their beautification process, was to axe down trees. Some of those trees were older than their great grandfathers. They were quite happy to plant distasteful sculptures bathed with cheap oil paint and bad finish in their place; and walled their precious masterpieces with colourful advertising panels, proudly selling sim cards, menstrual pads and bags of rice.

For the enlightened, it can be quite depressing driving down the streets of Accra; especially if you’ve been living here long enough. Most of the trees are gone. But it’s not only the streets that have been stripped naked, we have taken our bad taste to the homes too. As a sign of wealth, most Ghanaians now totally douse the compound of their homes in concrete. They chop down all the trees or refuse to plant any because it will attract owls and snakes, or they’ll have to sweep the leaves off the compound every morning or the roots will damage the foundation of the house… and the excuses go on and on.

The truth of the matter, however, is that the typical Ghanaian is a “bush person”. Rural-Urban migration didn’t start that long ago and even then all our cities were actually more peri-urban than proper urban not too long ago. We are bush people. The value of a tree therefore is pretty much… NOTHING. We’ve climbed them all, chewed them all, chopped our fair share. Now, we are bored with them. Concrete is the NEW attraction. Whoever builds the first cement house in the village becomes the new “chief”. We are tired of all those brown mud houses. We want concrete. Add some glass too.

We are like the bush girl who received a bouquet of roses from the headmaster’s son. She looked at him with a wide grin and quizzed, “And what must I use this for?”. She can’t use it for firewood, neither can she boil them for dinner. The poor boy didn’t know that a plate of cheap Chinese fried rice and chicken would have scored him more points than the nicest flower in the world.

Letter to Daughter

2011-06-13T10:58:00.000Z

Daughter Dearest,
Do you know there actually was a time, not too long ago, when it was ugly to be slim. They used to call it “Rawlings Chain”, “Nchanga” and other not-so-positive names. Today, they say it is ugly to be fat so many young women have become anorexic or malnourished, too afraid to gain some weight. But who is beautiful? What is beautiful? Beautiful is the girl you see when you look in your mirror. Smile at her and she’ll smile back at you. She is beautiful. You, is beautiful.

You are not being fair to yourself, if you allow some “expert” dying for attention, or some TV presenter wearing 20 pounds of mascara and artificial boobs or some junkie with a microphone and a guitar, or some over-photoshopped beauty queen to tell you who you are, when they don’t even know who they are. You are the pretty girl in the mirror who smiles back at you when you smile at her.

Daughter Precious, today’s society has specialized in throwing stones at the special, the unique, the talented, the blessed, the honest, the faithful, the deviant or anybody who refuses to join the masses but it is not a crime to be different. It is not a crime to be better. It is not a crime to be content. It is not a crime to not want to join the club. It is not a crime to be you. If we’re to gather all the stones we hurl at each other, can’t we build enough beautiful homes till no one is homeless in the world?

I was shocked to learn that the only place in the world to find gold, diamond and many other precious stones is in ugly, brown, earth. I thought for how much they cost and how well they shine, people plucked them from the moon and stars but I was wrong. Daughter darling, remember to never look down on yourself when you fail or feel like dirt. You are full of many precious stones and if you look inside you well enough, you’ll discover them. Your beauty and relevance can’t be determined by another. Not even by me, your father. God made you beautiful and precious and mortal.

Lovely, you know there’s so much I want to tell you but it might take forever and you may not remember them all so I’ll end with this: Enter each day with Joy. Enter each relationship with Joy. Approach your next client with Joy. Smile at the Prince and smile at the frog. Joy has nothing to do with them. It has everything to do with you. And when you smile at them, most of the time, they will smile back at you. Because just like you, they are beautiful.

TGIF y'all

2011-06-10T16:11:00.001Z

I haven't updated the blog in a while so this 2 for your weekend. Have fun

Joy's baby

2011-06-06T12:58:00.000Z

Sorrow's special child
has been adopted by Joy.

The papers were hastily signed
in a single scorching afternoon
But she's yet to understand
That Laughter is her new name.

Random Pebbles

2011-06-03T07:35:00.000Z

As photographers
we walk, trudge and skip
through life randomly
picking up images
Like a naughty boy
Picks up pebbles
For his shelf or catapult.

Sometimes we step on a mine
or land on our butts
in the personal space
of a dazzling damsel
or a putrified politician

The Photographer
Is a solitary spider
Often lurking in boring spaces
Seeking preys or praise
Or a little significance.

The camera is an amazing
Wall to hide behind
When nothing makes sense.
It’s definitely easier to shoot war
Than share a roof with a termagant.

The Photograph

2011-05-29T23:52:00.000Z

Portrait from my HARDWORKING GHANAIANS Series #1

There’s fear that the ease of use and prolific nature of the digital camera threaten to choke life and value out of the photograph. There are more photographers today than there’s ever been in the relatively young history of this art form. A little over a decade ago, a photographer covered an assignment with two cameras, each loaded with 35mm film that holds only 36 exposures. Today, a digital camera with a four gigabyte memory card, can easily hold more than 500 exposures depending on file size and format. The lenses have become more sensitive to light and the strobes have gotten smarter at metering. The automatic nature of these modern cameras has made it possible to create a passably good photograph with relative ease as long as the photographer can “Spray and Pray”, “Chimp” and “Photoshop”.

To borrow from Economics, we seem to be at a stage where the abundant supply of visual imagery; particularly, the photograph has heavily driven down the price and value of both the photographer and their product. Whatever dire state the photograph(er) is in today, is also generally compounded by the swiftness with which people quickly move from amateur to professional. An occupation that once prided itself on apprenticeship has now managed to replace the master with pdfs, how-to-videos, and Idiot’s-guide-to-everything-photography”.

Fifty years ago, there were only two types of photographers in Africa: The ones who operated small studios where families will have their portraits done on special occasions, and the ones who worked as photojournalists for the press. Today, most families have their own digital camera and so take most of their special moments themselves or request the photographer to come home and cover the event for them. The studios mainly focus on passport-sized photographs now. Due to the poor quality of prints in most African newspapers, the photojournalist has always been shielded from critical examination. Though they’d been comfortable hiding behind blurs, improper registration of colours, horrible type-setting and cheap ink, the effect this has had on them is, they’ve been pretty stagnant. The average photojournalist in Africa, especially Ghana, whose situation I am most familiar with, cannot make one good exposure without “chimping” or slapping the subject with a high doze of flash, thus totally killing the ambience.

At the end of the day, however, the strength of the photograph, is its very lifeline. The photograph, above all things, is both a witness and an alibi to Memory. It’s a visual representation of the paths we tread and those who tread them with us. In each life, there comes the time to remember, to account, to prove, to enlighten; and at all these critical moments, the photograph comes into its own: Invaluable.

Vlisco Dazzling Graphics Fashion Show

2011-05-25T09:58:00.000Z

For six months in my life, I pursued a Fashion Design Dream. That was a long time ago. I don't remember the last time I tried designing anything for myself but deep down, that passion still flickers.

This Vlisco Fashion Show was just to showcase their new collection of designs and I was privileged enough to get a front seat from where I could steal a few shots. I wasn't the official photographer. I was there as a guest.

Enjoy the pictures and do have a great A.U Day :)

New Face of Black's Secret

2011-05-21T15:19:00.000Z

This photograph is of the supermodel, Shirley Selase Anku. Before we did the main photo shoot for Black's Secret, we did a test shoot. You notice everything about this photograph is pretty basic. That is because we were test shooting. I had never shot her and Thomas Dye, the Make Up Artist had never also worked with Shirley. At the end of the session, we were all convinced we were going to make some great images.

To be fair to my client, I will like them to launch their campaign before I share any of the images from our real shoot with you.

Enjoy this, and do have fun

Blue Ocean turning brown

2011-05-10T13:44:00.000Z

Blue Ocean
Turning brown
What will you be
Tomorrow?

Clear Thunderstorms
Convulsing Lightning
Will there be Rain
Tomorrow?

Will there be green tomorrow?

Oh Sonny, grow up quickly
Daughter, crawl out of your dreams
This world is changing too fast
And taking all the fun along with it.

Greedy men with shiny bellies
Those vultures poison all eagles
And make omelette with their precious eggs.
Dreams squandered by the empty headed.
Will there be tomorrow?

Babies drink cow urine.
Walking skeletons everywhere
Shrouds of shame and hunger engulf them
As their tears drop on rich, dry soil.

Oh Africa why?
See your rich farting gold dust
Whilst your precious poor perish.
Is there a God up in the sky?
Will He be judge tomorrow?

Break her chains
And let Conscience out
We can’t be that dead
To all of this.
And it gets worse…

Every
Tomorrow.

Happy Mothers Day - A Portrait

2011-05-08T07:23:00.000Z

God bless Mama
for the cuddles
and the kisses

God bless Mama
for the time outs
and the black outs

God bless Mama
for just being Mama.

A thing for Mangoes

2011-05-01T20:16:00.002Z

I salute all workers today.

My original plan was to post a couple of photos from the Workers Day parade at the Independence Square in Accra but I figured that was pretty predictable. The good thing with story telling is, sometimes the story comes to you.

When I saw my daughter passionately devouring a mango, it shot me straight down memory lane. I was approximately 5 years old and I lived with my grandmother at Tema, in Community Nine.

My grandmother loved mangoes. She would bring home a basket full whenever they were in season, every evening after work. After dinner, she would wash them with salt and water, sit in the verandah and start eating them gracefully. All the children and grandchildren got a mango each but since I was little, mine would often end up in the belly of an uncle who I need a favour from or has promised to take me somewhere nice. Each time one of them took my mango from me, I’d go back to my grandmother and manage to get a new one. It was nice being a favourite grandson.

One fateful evening, my grandmother refused to give me another mango. Being the good boy that I was, I started throwing tantrums. I threw myself on the floor and started screaming like crazy. She ignored me; smart woman. After a few minutes of me reeling though, some black ant who probably was tired of all my noise making sneaked into my briefs and gave me one wicked sting on my scrotum.

Screaming with my balls in hand and jumping all over the place, everybody knew these were no longer crocodile tears. This was the real thing.

I remember them dousing a rag with kerosene and rubbing that where the wicked ant stung me. I still don’t remember how I slept that evening. It is still a joke in the family, and seeing how my daughter loves mangoes, I know she’d one day have a story of her own, hopefully it will be more pleasant than mine.

Have a great week and remember… hard work breaks no bones.

Photos from Ghana's Oil City- Takoradi

2011-04-27T23:25:00.002Z

This post is not going be full of wise quotes from the streets of Takoradi like the Accra one was. Takoradi is a totally different specie of animal and requires a different method of dissection.

Yesterday, I decided to go to Takoradi by public transport. Just when I was getting comfortable in the air-conditioned Yutong bus, the woman sitting across the aisle from me gently unwrapped her ball of Ga kenkey, pepper and freshly fried fish and started masticating gracefully. The bus smelled like my grandmother’s kitchen for a long time.

We were about to take off, when a preacher got onboard and decided to speak on the theme: “Marriage and the legacy of fornication”. It was quite a challenge listening to a brimstone and fire sermon. I forgot the bus smelled like kenkey a few minutes before. Now it smelled of fury.

I worked in Takoradi approximately ten years ago as a radio presenter on what was then the biggest, most vibrant news and entertainment channel of the whole western region.

Today, Skyy Power FM is just one of the eleven competing radio stations… and even the BBC has joined the race with their own channel. You wonder why the boom? Well, the answer is O (Oscar) I (India) and L (Lima)… OIL.

Takoradi is the belly of one of the Africa’s biggest oil discovery of the last ten years. When I lived here, the city was known for its music, a genre called Western Highlife, its seamen, its port and its women. Now, the only language on everybody’s lips is… oil.

These photographs are part of what will be a continuing series of attempts by me to document this fast changing landscape.

What will it be like in ten year? Twenty years? Fifty years?

I have no idea… but if God blesses us with long life and passion, we shall discover together.

Accra Hustling

2011-04-24T03:40:00.000Z

I’ve heard quite a few unforgettable expressions on the streets of Accra. Almost all of these were in Ghanaian languages.

Let’s see if I can translate them into English with the flavuor intact.

I remember once at Abossey Okai (where 99% of Ghanaians by spare parts for their cars), it started drizzling unannounced. A young man who was briskly passing by raised his eyes, looked up into the clouds and says “God, take it easy. Your children, we are busy hustling”.

Another time, I saw two hustlers fighting over money. The broke one was accusing his friend of being greedy. He’s friend retorted: “Even the sea, with all its water, doesn’t reject fresh rain”.

A guy buying coconut from a young kumasi man asked for a discount. Coconut seller looks poor man squarely in the eyes and says “Master, do you think I came to Accra to watch the sea?”

One time in Kantamanto, a guy almost knocked a woman’s wares over and didn’t even bother to stop. The angry woman yells at him” You! You are just a little more handsome than a monkey”.

Now, do have a great week :) And remember, better is always possible.

Happy to say 35 today

2011-04-23T07:26:00.001Z

I am such a piece of work
carefully constructed
weirdly wired

Thirty five years today
and still under construction

To each labourer in here
I say thank you:

For every brick of prayer
for each thatch of kindness

for every concrete advice
for every level of correction...
Thank you and see you in my future

Thank you

I love you my son

2011-04-19T19:16:00.000Z

I love you like Harmattan pawpaw
Freshly cut and served with cola nuts
And a calabash of fresh palm wine-
Impurities and all.

I love you sonny boy
Like Africa loves sunshine
And badly battered drums.
You bring me happiness
Like the prince’s wink to
The farmer’s daughter.

I love you very much
My only sonny boy
Like the moment when
Your mother shyly nodded
Approvingly to my poorly
Chosen, affectionate words.

I love you son.
I love you because you are
Not because you do
or think
Or say.

Happy fifth birthday
And remember I’ll love you all the way.

When this bee is busy

2011-04-17T03:29:00.001Z

When this bee is busy, he's usually making honey, or something funny or just trying to make some money.

This photo is not photoshopped. I photographed the ex-president with the Jubilee House or Flag Staff House in the background.

The brother who rapes is still a rapist

2011-04-12T09:29:00.000Z

I am ashamed of all my fellow Africans who keep pretending it was okay for Gbagbo to hang on to power. For me, forcing oneself one a country that doesn't want you is no different from forcing oneself on a girl who doesn't want you. It is rape. Rape of any form is horrible, disgusting and totally unacceptable.

The people who are busy defending Gbagbo because he's African and busily accusing the French just plain right have no shame. They are no different from the mother who silences the daughter because it will be embarrassing to the family if the world gets to know her husband rapes his own daughter. Just because Gbagbo is family means nothing if he will not live and abide by the values we all claim to hold dear (or do we have no values?). I will call a stranger who values and reciprocates my respect for him a brother any day than share a roof with my father's son who despises me and treats me like trash.

If someone asks you to tell them how old you are, you don't show them your pubic hair. You show them your wisdom. Every fool grows pubic hair with time but age doesn't necessarily make one wiser. If Africa wants to show the world that we have come of age, then we must live it. Nepotism and tribal politics is not how strong nations are built. I may not like the French but my hatred for all these "aristocratic", tribalistic, politically favored, shallow minded, myopic African leaders far outweighs my disgust for the imperialists.

Truly Accra - 3 Photographs

2011-04-10T19:36:00.002Z

This is from my recent assignment for Fiesta Royale Hotel. For business people, I'd highly recommend this hotel.

I was shocked to see how much rubbish (mainly plastic) was in this gutter. Because we normally drive by, we hardly see these things.

Well, everybody who reads my blog knows I'm not an MTN fan but I couldn't resist making this image.

Have a great week; and say a prayer for Ivory Coast and Libya.

Terrorists among us

2011-04-02T21:42:00.001Z

There is nothing as frustrating in life as trying to inspire a cynic.
You approach them all bubbly and warm, full of laughter and promise. Your voice is loud and soulful but no matter how hard you try, it gradually sinks into your coconut, that it is too little, too late to save them.

Too much water has passed under the bridge. Many people have broken their hearts. Friends and lovers have deserted them. They’ve lost much money. They’ve lost dignity. All because they were once “foolish” enough to trust. They read William Shakespeare’s “The nearer in blood, the nearer bloody”, or the Akan proverb “The insect that stings you is the one in your cloth” and they nod their heads fully in agreement. They see a young couple who are all over each other and they sneer secretly at their ignorant bliss.

But no matter how many reasons we find to justify a cynical, pessimistic, gloomy outlook on life, the truth is, we only become cynical when we refuse to look at the whole picture. We zoom in too tight to the darker parts of the canvas but there is more to the stories of our lives. Can we zoom out a bit more? Dust off your wide angle lens and look again.

True, we will always have the terrorists among us. They are often family. Friends. Business associates. Colleagues. Leaders. Pastors. Counsellors. Teachers. Terrorists are rarely strangers. They are often this calm breeze we’ve come to trust. We take off our shirts and bare our hearts out to them; and just when we start getting comfortable, out of the blue, they blow out our candles and the flame in our eyes dies; and all we see is darkness. Not every mad person you see on the street was a drug addict. Actually many of them are victims of terror. They are the jilted. The gossiped-about. The black sheep in a family of white elephants. The shamed. The ashamed. The unwanted. The accused. The raped. The lied-about. The scape goat. The misunderstood. You. Me.

No matter what hits us or who betrays us, we get to make a second choice. We can choose to shut down or speed up. The worst thing we can do to ourselves is get stuck. If they weren’t good enough in your past, they aren’t good enough for your future. The surgical knife cuts deep, but sometimes, it is the only way to healing. Face the truth of their unworthiness and move on. Admit your role in the crisis but self-pity won’t change the situation. You don’t need to “end it all”. Move on quickly. As long as you weep, your vision will be blurred. Dry your tears so you can see afresh. The world is full of miracles. You can make it. Can’t you feel the sunshine warming your skin already? Cough out your last lump of tears and get ready for a brand new song.

There will always be terrorists among us. But even more importantly, there is always a second chance. So please start dating again. Juliet is not Rosemary. They are two different women. Sammy and Peter don’t have the same mum. In Akan, we say “just because your child drowned doesn’t mean you have to stop drinking water”. Don’t only learn from your bad experiences. Learn from your positive experiences too. The only way to overcome terror is to unbar your gates and step into the streets again. If they can get you too scared to try again, they’ve succeeded. Don’t let them win. You can win.

Ivory Coast vs Benin in pictures

2011-03-27T23:23:00.001Z

Last week, my son and I went to the Accra Sports Stadium to see the Kumasi Asante Kotoko vs Accra Hearts of Oak match. We didn't get tickets so we had to leave. Today, we didn't want a repeat of that so first my assistant, Daniel Arthur, got us the tickets way in advance. Once, we were in there, someone thought us worthy enough so they escorted us to VVIP (Nhyira, thanks for making that happen). We were there a whole hour before kick off so my daughter decided to find a new toy to play with:

My son loves football and he'd normally support the Black Stars but since they were not playing today, he decided to fly the Ivorian flag:

Obviously, he wasn't the only Ivorienne fan there:)

Some people are so stingy, instead of them buying tickets and coming in to see the match, they decided to fly over and peep through their windows. I wonder how much of the game they saw:

The stadium, at least where we were seated was as quiet as a graveyard till Ivory Coast equalized... and the vuvuzelas started going off:

But the fun had to end at some point and so it did:

Don't forget to take a moment and say a prayer for the Ivory Coast. May they know PEACE again.
Do have a great week.

My brother, my grave

2011-03-26T05:13:00.000Z

Didn’t you just smile at me
A moment ago and call me brother?
Did we not just crack up together when
Coconut seller Joe said his dirty joke?

Now, you curse at me? Like a barren pawpaw tree
You hack me down, scattering my brain
Like old leaves in the grasp of a nasty, dry wind.
How can so much go wrong in so little time
Or did I just not see all along?

So much wrath beautifully wrapped
In colorful proverbs and ancient rituals…
Sparkling white teeth cleverly shielding
The heart of the rapist deep within.
And like a little girl paid a compliment,
I skip happily towards you, my brother, my grave.

It doesn’t get darker than a cocktail
Of blood, politics and sycophantic fools.
Africa’s only problem is Africa
And Africa is her only solution.

Beauty of Ghana's most deprived region: Upper West

2011-03-24T09:42:00.000Z

Black is Beauty Full

2011-03-18T22:05:00.000Z

and so is white and pink and grey and yellow and green.

Zongo Beach aka Poor man's Beach

2011-03-14T08:23:00.000Z

Yesterday, my good friend and fellow photographer Bobbie and I discovered this new beach right behind the Arts Centre in Accra. Most of the people on this beach were from Ghana’s plebeian class: The hawkers, the porters, the guys who sell on the streets etc. Considering how expensive the gate fee at La Pleasure keeps getting, it is understandable.
Enjoy the pictures and do have a great week.

What pays the bills... Corporate Edition :)

2011-03-09T09:43:00.002Z

My next series of blog posts will be focused on sharing with you the kind of photos that pay the bills. It is always easy to take photos for your own pleasure but to get to the level where Corporate Organizations will be willing to pay you good money to do good work for them comes at a cost. My next blog post will be about how to think like a corporate photographer.

This the new Vodafone Office at Airport City

Welcome to Sunny Country- Vodafone Ghana CEO Kyle Whitehill
This man has the coolest office in Ghana. WoW, I just want to be his doorman or something :)

I bet you want to take a seat ;)

Selling insurance with a smile

Oxford and Beaumont is Ghana's most dynamic business law firm; me thinks.

Traditional Ghanaian sculpture decorating the new Vodafone office.

I think the 2 weeks I spent traveling round the country in December 2010 has paid off. Every single photograph you see decorating the new Vodafone office came from that trip and boy, was it a tough yet exciting one :)

Independence Day Celebration in Pictures

2011-03-06T18:28:00.000Z

Today, this great country turned 54. In country years, it is still a young one. My dreams for this country are big. It is the only one I know and can call my own. May this flag ever fly high.

Our president disappointed me with his famous "mind your own business" statement. He forgot what our first president said: "The Independence of Ghana is meaningless unless it is linked up to the total liberation of Africa" - Dr. Kwame Nkrumah (6th March,1957). For a moment, I felt like we have stepped back in time. Ivory Coast's crisis is our crisis... and we must become part of the solution and not the problem. Ghana's aloofness is a sin of omission. No, I don't think war is the solution.

This NDC fanatic waved his flag so hard, the wind ripped it. You can see part of it in the sky. In deed, "Ghana shall not die". I think Akuffo Addo must apologize for his immature "all die be die" rant. No one's going to die for him to become president. Now, the boring NDC have somewhere unnecessary to channel their energy. Just because Ghana isn't dying doesn't mean she's doing great. The teachers will get you guys :)

It was nice watching these guys march in their uniforms and white gloves. I wonder who got the contract to make all those uniforms for all of them? Next time, I'd want to supply them with those white gloves they wear. I'm sure the budget was huge. The white semi-circular blur you see is actually gloves.
This is one of the many groups who came to perform. They did a harvest dance from the Volta Region. The girls all put pillows in their butt to make it bigger for the dance. I thought it was indecent to show you those pictures. But are Ghanaian men that crazy about big butts? Don't they consider them as impediments? Anyway, I deviate. But don't you think, by letting these girls put pillows in their pants to exaggerate the sizes of their butts, we are telling them "Big Butt Good, Small Butt Bad?"

Before you feel pity for the poor kid on the stretcher, I will show you a trick from back in the day. Whenever you get hungry at these national events, just fake a faint and the red cross will give you free glucose and milk and sometimes, you even get a full meal. So now you know the trick :)

Obviously, not everybody was keen on watching Uncle Atta perform. The bored put up their own show. These boys have skills. Nobody my generation, who grew up in Ghana knows how to skate. As far as we are concerned, skating is white people's game.

Somebody somewhere in Accra has got the Gucci dealership. If you need high quality Gucci sandals for the price of peanuts, you know who to call dontcha?
Ghanaians often put Nkrumah and Bob Marley on the same page. I'm yet to decide if they go together. Do you think they do?

Well, I couldn't hang around for very long as I had to go to church. I wonder if my fellow pressmen got their "soli". Please, don't ask me what that means. This final image has nothing to do with pressmen.

I wish you all the best and do have a great week :)

Three Photos for you.

2011-02-27T18:29:00.000Z

Before and After photo of a beautiful model

2011-02-19T21:48:00.000Z

Can you spot the difference?

Touring Ghana with a Dutchman

2011-02-16T11:36:00.000Z

Last Saturday and Sunday were 2 great days I got to spend with my Dutch friend Bertil.
Papee, my air-condition repair guy was graceful enough to offer to drive us all the way to the Wli falls.
We got caught up in crazy traffic at Atimpoku, where Bertil also tasted the smallest fish he’s ever eaten in his life: ONE MAN THOUSAND, as we famously call it in Ghana and of course, he had to have the aboloo too.

We decided to hop out of the car and see what the problem was. We found out there was maintenance work going on on the bridge.

These fishermen were oblivious to our plight. I hope they caught a lot of tilapia.

We turned what should have been frustrating time into an exciting adventure. It’s amazing how many girls hit on Bertil.
It was funny when this guy asked Bertil for his phone number and he being Dutch, looked the guy in the face and smilingly asked him what he wants it for since he’s not a girl. The brother was so shocked he just disappeared. Boy, did I laugh! That’s the tough dutchman drinking pure water.

How many of you know the writing on this vehicle is actually a quotation from the Bible? Bertil was shocked when I told him. It’s amazing how Dutch people have just generally stopped going to church and turned almost all their churches into nightclubs, musuems, offices etc. They should come and see Ghana, we are turning all our cinemas into churches. That where the money is now, I’m told;)

I must leave some things for my next post so just go ahead and enjoy these photos and remember, Ghana is a beautiful country with many lovely people; and we would love to have you over, if you’ve never been.

Accra by Night

2011-02-08T23:32:00.000Z

Squeaky, overworked beds take over
After the lights go to sleep
And a symphony of snores crescendoes
From the chambers of the uninspired.

Everybody and everything that goes
Back and forth and back and forth
finally sweats to a halt; even if
For just a few hours till they
regain enough energy to start
Going back and forth and back and forth
All over this beautiful city again.

The mask we wear in the morning
Is not the one we greet Night with.
If you still think her softest spot
Is her heart, you haven’t found good use
For your blessed fingers yet.
Proper probing yields great results.

Accra, you’re a beautiful place to know…
At night.

Beauty isn't perfect

2011-02-02T10:55:00.000Z

Thia is one of my favourite people to photograph. I decided to post her photographs unedited. Leaving all the imperfections on her face and all.

Fishers of Plastic and eWaste

2011-01-24T01:26:00.000Z

Looks like we are already at that point where we have more plastic than we have fish in our waters. Our environment is degenerating so fast that if we do nothing now, it is already too late.

If you know of an organization that is willing to team up with me to create serious social, environmental consciousness through photography, please do not hesitate to get in touch.

I am at that point in my life where I don't believe in complaining anymore. I want to do something about this. I want to do it now.

That Lucy

2011-01-21T09:30:00.001Z

That Lucy…
The very Lucy who left you
Is the same one I love
And see in my every move.

That Lucy…
Who swims with sharks
And dances like the wind
Has captured all my mind.

When a nightmare ends
with rainbow and sunshine
Does that make it a dream
Or a reason to pour a tot?

That Lucy…
She clipped my wings with a kiss
And lassoed me in with a touch
And I grin sheepishly…

Waiting for death or for pleasure
Either is painful with Lucy.
That Lucy…
Knows how to give me roargasms
But there is no love to feel.

I will redeem you Lucy!
Give you back your soul
And laughter that Bad Fate
Stole from you on helpless days
in your own parents’ bedroom.

That Lucy…
She’s mine. My Lucy to Love.

"The Big Onion"

2011-01-16T22:28:00.001Z

I call this market "The Big Onion" for a couple of reasons:
1. It is layered beyond comprehension. The only way to fully discover it is by peeling one layer at a time.
2. It has this peculiar strong stench that never leaves.

Do have a great week.

Kojo weds Maud (Awesome Pictures to start the new year)

2011-01-02T09:43:00.000Z

I managed to go through 2010 without shooting a single wedding. Come 2011, and the first assignment on the very first day is one spanking, wicked, wedding. Congratulations to you Kojo and Maud and may this year and all the years ahead of you, be filled with love, love and lots of LOVE. Nana.

I can't wait to see the images Nyani got. Thanks for second shooting for me at such short, short notice. Your energy is infectious.

May I take this opportunity to wish y'all a happy new year. May this year bring you every good thing your heart desires. Amen :)

Naughty on the Beach and More...

2010-12-30T00:09:00.001Z

Actually, this is a thank you post. Thank you so much for reading my blog in 2010. Thank you to all who ended up becoming my clients. I couldn't have fed myself and my growing family without you. Most people would rather just ask for free photos. You decided to pay for them. Thank you.

May the fleas from a thousand camels afflict the scrotum of anyone who seeks your ruin in 2011 and may their arms be too short to scratch it.

My last post for 2010 is a set of photographs, all made at the La Pleasure Beach. Let me see if I can run some commentary under each picture.

This is the lagoon that flows into La Pleasure Beach. The water is so polluted it is scary. If you ever swim at the La Pleasure Beach, please make sure you don't gulp down any of the sea water.

Mohammed is of Chadian origin. He doesn't go to school. He says his father is in Togo. All they do is beg. I hope in 2011, the Ghana government will finally do something about the Chadian beggars problem in this country. For how long can we all pretend, we don't know they "import" children into the country to use them as slaves? Anytime you see a kid that looks like Mohammed on the street begging for money, think "Child Slavery. Child Slavery. Child Slavery".

No, I didn't have to pay 1 cedi before I got to photograph this sand sculpture. I consider Bob Atiso, the artist who does these beautiful pieces on the beach a new friend. On this particular piece, I told him "This is the slimmest girl I've ever seen you sculpt". He said that's because he naturally prefers women with some flesh. Hmm.

La Pleasure Beach is a place for all kinds of Love.

These guys asked me not to photograph their faces. I guess they know their mothers and fathers read my blog and would really be shocked to see them swear.

I don't know what to say about this photograph. I bet they're just gossiping about someone. Now, I'm gossiping about them. Life.

How come we don't have female acrobats in Ghana? It's always these same guys always flying in the air. I hope they find some few women to help spice their performances in 2011.
I love you, be good and see you in 2011.

Merry Christmas to you

2010-12-24T12:49:00.000Z

and may the coming year bring you unbeatable peace, love, health and wealth.

Six Sexy Lovely Years with You.

2010-12-19T02:48:00.000Z

Esi, my wife; my partner for life.
My sweet scented sunny Summer.
What did you do to the Winters
That draped my childhood dim?

I know you just loved them away
With a kiss, a hug, a prayer, a day
A song, a joke, a dish, a day
And it’s already six years today.

When African leaders lose their heads

2010-12-11T23:19:00.002Z

This is a photo of Ghana’s first president, Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah’s statue that got vandalized when he was overthrown in a coup d’etat that was orchestrated by the American CIA. “Wikileaks, do you have more information on this?”

When African leaders lose their heads
They turn their unwanted affections
Towards Russia and China and anyone
Who’d rather not have Democracy.

When Nkrumah lost his head, it was
Ghanaian hands that tore him up
But it was American brains behind it.
His Russian friends were too faraway.

When Mugabe lost his head,
China became his new found love
And his people are still paying
For spurning his cold, twisted love.

Now Gbagbo’s fever is getting worse
As he’s been left to shiver alone.
Russia just offered him a blanket
Full of blood-thirsty fleas.

But Dear Gbagbo, pushing yourself
down on a girl, is not the way
to do it anymore. If she doesn't
love you, let her go. Now.
Who knows? In time, they might worship you
just as Ghana now worships Kwame Nkrumah.

The Pigs Must Hide

2010-12-06T11:20:00.002Z

La Cote D’Ivoire
I know you’re proud
and rich and blessed
and wise and strong
and very very beautiful.

La Cote D’Ivoire
you are Africa’s
shiny, expensive pearl
that just landed
in the lap of a pig.

Ghana Tour- Three More Regions.

2010-11-29T23:43:00.002Z

People having fun at the Kintampo Falls, Ghana.

Male Antelope guarding his territory, Mole National Park, Northern Ghana.

African Bush Elephant with one tusk missing. Mole National Park, Ghana

Thorns at Sunset. Kulmase Crocodile Sanctuary, Upper West, Ghana.

Images from Ghana- Western Region

2010-11-27T08:26:00.000Z

Fort Metal Cross, Dixcove where 16 year old virgin was buried alive to enable the British to build the fort. 75 slaves were shipped from here every 3 months.

Galamsey Miner. Considered illegal, most galamsey "gather and sell" miners avoid the camera.

Pregnant Fish Seller, Ankobrah Beach.

Images from Ghana- Central Region

2010-11-24T08:09:00.000Z

We hit the road 2 days ago. I asked an old man at Senya Bereku, “So for how long have you been fishing?” He replied: “The moment I took my first steps as a baby, I headed straight to the beach and I have been fishing ever since.” Yesterday, I photographed a kind, old man who is our President’s friend and he has photos and stories to prove it. Each day brings new, refreshing stories. Watch this space for more.

I miss my Daddy.

2010-11-21T23:56:00.000Z

He's busy taking photos all over the country. He might pass through your village. If you see him, please tell him I miss him very much.

Tough Tune to Dance To

2010-11-13T03:40:00.000Z

Today, I photographed Millie. Her husband died yesterday.
She suffers from Tuberculosis and she's also HIV positive.
Now she has to raise their 4 children all by herself.
Life can play you a tough tune to dance to.

If this wasn’t sad enough, the last thing I saw on my way
home, was a dead woman lying on the street. She was just
hit by a motor bike right in front of the Korle Bu Mortuary.
Now her family has two people to mourn for.
Life is a tough tune to some folk.

Forever Your Queen

2010-11-06T20:59:00.000Z

My long lost Love,
This is your Queen.
I left you a message
Today too on the bark
Of the tree under which
We first kissed. Remember?

Your lips quivered
With fear and desire.
There was uncertainty
In your hasty touch.
I can still smell
Your cola breath.

My long lost Love,
So you think you’ve
Moved on don’t you?
Just make sure you
Don’t come too late
Because your Chief
Just asked for my
Hand in marriage.

Forever your Queen.

Mali my ancient home (poetry and photographs)

2010-10-29T15:11:00.001Z

Mali! Dust off your koras
And let your ancient songs rise.
Turn your palms, leathered from
Farming and toil into cymbals of joy.

Mali! Clear your throat with milk
From your many fattened cows
And let your songs rise again;
Till drumming and dancing fill our huts.

Mali, your ancient kings won’t return.
Your scattered children won’t converge
Until fresh lullaby sneaks out of your tight lips
And resurrects their sleeping spirits.

She who runs today, once slept and dreamt.
Mali, your breath assures me you live but sleep.
Wake up Mali. Let your ancient blood boil
Till the greatness we see in our dreams come true.

Mali. Rise. Mali. Sing. Mali. Mama. Mali.

With Love from Mali

2010-10-26T05:14:00.000Z

Portrait of Nollywood Star, Rita Dominic

2010-10-20T22:23:00.000Z

I posted this, just to break the silence.
Let's see what I bring back from Mali.

Blog Action Day: Water

2010-10-16T08:58:00.001Z

These photographs were made for WaterAid Ghana, in communities that used to be prone to Guinea Worm infections. One man told us of how the chief in his village had guinea worm infection in his tongue; and what a torturous experience it was for them. If you think getting the "fiery serpent" (a nick name for the Guinea worm) in your tongue is painful, imagine having it in your scrotum.

Talking to residents in these communities make you realize the difference one borehole makes. Good water is a life changer. If you can afford to donate some boreholes to deprived communities, don't hold back. Enjoy your weekend.

Poor No Friend

2010-10-15T16:28:00.000Z

Poor no friend
Only God like am.

Poverty na bad curse.
Poverty dey stink
Like some gutter
For Sodom and Gomorrah.

Poor man no always
Be lazy man.
Lazy man always
Be poor man.

Poor man wife
Na sorry woman.
Plenty pickin.
Plenty wahala.

Poor no friend.
Poverty na witch
Proper proper witch.

I just wanna play. Play Play Play

2010-10-12T10:03:00.000Z

On spiders and traps

2010-10-10T19:36:00.001Z

I never thought spiders could spook me till I saw some not-so-small yellow and black ones today.
Billy, captured observing one of the spiders below, said “if one of these spiders sting you, you’ll run and scream for 3 miles not knowing what happened to you”. I thought that was funny.

Life is full of webs. Traps. Situations we know we need to break out of but can’t. I know the feeling. I’ve been there. I know what it means to wake up to go to a job you hate and still dread quitting because you don’t know what will happen to you when you do. I know guys who used to hang around the office way after working hours because they dreaded their own homes. Life is full of traps.

Donnie McClurkin, in one of his songs says” We fall down but we get up. For a saint is just a sinner who fell down but couldn’t stay there and got up”. This post is not about saints and sinners. It is just me telling you… no matter how low you think you’ve sunk. You can get up.

I need to say that, sometimes, what we consider a trap or a web might actually be a boundary designed to keep us safe. Walls have their uses and may you have the wisdom to tell the difference.

See you up and running! Have a great week.

Free to be me

2010-10-07T10:43:00.002Z

Free me to be
Now, let me be me

Let my barefeet roam and run
And my laughter light the sun
As my forehead kisses the sky

Let me be me before I die.

Stay with me

2010-09-29T17:52:00.002Z

God Made Chocolate

2010-09-24T11:11:00.003Z

(Photo: Farmer fermenting cocoa to optimize taste for chocolate. This photo was originally published in the Financial Times UK)

God made chocolate
And Sunshine and you.

God made me chocolate
And delicious to taste.

I am rich dark chocolate
You might be creamy milky
Or even sunny lemony.

We look and taste different
But we are all chocolate.

Life is War

2010-09-23T03:01:00.000Z

Life is War
The strong pretend their weak
The weak pretend their strong.

Portrait of a cotton farmer.

2010-09-18T21:11:00.000Z

If you notice with this blog, I don’t often post photographs from assignments commissioned by clients unless I think it very necessary. My last post of the woman peeling cassava was taken for the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD). They are doing amazing work here in Ghana through such projects as REP and RTIMP. I’m sure you can google for more information on those.

This photograph above, I made just a couple of days ago in a tiny village 3 hours drive from Yamoussoukro in the Ivory Coast for BASF “The Chemicals Company”. With the current attention the African Farmer is receiving, I can’t help hoping and waiting for the time (in the very immediate future) when his/ her fortune turns.

For how hard they work, it will be good to see them enjoy some of the wealth they create.

Cassava Peeler and Sweet Sleeping Child

2010-09-09T07:01:00.003Z

Have a great day.

Or did you just miss your train?

2010-09-08T00:02:00.002Z

I live in a busy busy world
Speed trains, cars and trucks
Keep hooting my peace away.

Mine is a crazy crazy world
Loud music from cheap speakers
Assaulting my two poor ears.

I live in a lonely lonely world
Full of strangers chasing air
In a system made to choke.

I live like most white folk
And rich black people do.
Behind walls and suits and Wii.

I live searching for Love
A mother’s lap, a buddy’s slap
Or you on the other end of the see-saw.

I live to live for Love
So come fill this empty space
Or did you just miss your train?

Party like the kids do

2010-08-30T21:51:00.000Z

Love in slow motion
So it lasts forever.

Sing in high key
With your door ajar.

Play with all your strength
Till none is left for wrong.

Splash the town with colour
enough to make the sun squint.

Have a great week
No matter what it takes.

On Africa and Creativity

2010-08-24T10:26:00.000Z

As one who advocates a forward thinking mindset, I hate it when I have to make references to the past but sometimes, there is no other way. Colonialism, in my opinion, is the vampire’s fang that’s sucked and continues to suck Africa’s creative brain out; leaving us for dead, dry and uninventive. Yet it still is Africa’s responsibility to wring itself free. In the history of humanity, no one race has ever fought for another’s redemption. Often, there is the pretending to do so in order to gain favour or to steal but every nation, every tribe, every family, every man, every woman is responsible to themselves for their own redemption.

Everyday, I hear of one new person picking up the camera, believing they have a calling and almost immediately they start collecting money from both the vulnerable and the cheap in return for badly packaged, terribly arranged pixels of s%i$. They have no creative integrity or pride. There is nothing as scary in this world, as one who cannot feel shame. Before you think this phenomenon is only with photography, I’d beg you to take a quick glance at our music, our art, our radio and tv programming, our education. WHAT HAPPENED TO ORIGINALITY? WHAT HAPPENED TO CREATIVITY?

Aristotle says human beings learn by imitation and I totally agree but creativity is a higher calling. It is a call to stand out and be counted. It is a call to leadership and that is why, if anyone believes they’ve been called by their Creator to be creators, they cannot settle for becoming like their neighbour, friend or even master. There comes a time when an Ephraim Amu closes the hymn books and creates his own music. There comes a time when an Ama Ata Aidoo flips her Shakespeare’s somewhere and takes ownership of her experiences and her observations. There comes a time when all creatives come into their own; if they really are creatives.

We, the victims of colonialist systems, inherited Rote Learning among many other curses; and its negative effects still plague us. I still see today, forty plus old men and women who are educated well to obey but hold no ability to lead, to break out of the box, to think for themselves. I live in a country where a pharmacist’s biggest ambition is not to discover and create his own medicines but rather to be the reseller or representative of some Pfizer or GlaxoSmithKline. I live in a country where an engineers ultimate desire is not to place himself or his children on the moon or even on a map but rather to earn a certificate, a salary and a 4 x 4.

Creativity begins when we realize that Education, no matter how good it is. Education, whether acquired at Akotolante L.A. Primary or Harvard, is never an end in itself. Education will always be a means to an end. We educate soldiers on how to use weapons so they can win wars. We educate the hunter on how to set a trap so he can catch game. The lawyer who is incompetent enough to let the innocent they represent be condemned and watch the guilty walk out to again run the world down, has not only failed all who taught her but also immensely failed themselves as human beings with an ability to think.

For the young who are still trying to find their way. I will say, ask yourself, what kind of education do I need to achieve that goal and not what programme can I get a scholarship for, or what qualification can I easily get a job with?

In spite of all the pessimism poured out above, I am the first to confess that I see streaks of brilliance and hope everyday; only I wish it will get broader and ultimately canvass our continent and our world; and for that, I can’t wait.

Go out and Create.

Sun and Rain are making Love

2010-08-21T00:27:00.001Z

Sun and Rain are making Love
sit in the corner of the night
running a temperature of negative
zero degrees and pretentious happiness.

Sometimes love is a kiss
on the forehead of a grave,
or a lone wave in the silent dark
of a slowly crazing mind.

If Poverty is dirt,
Love is the gold
buried in its belly.

I’d have sold you my heart
but you’re too broke to buy it.

Sun and Rain are making Love.

What you watching?

2010-08-15T03:52:00.001Z

I wish I know.

Liberia

2010-08-09T17:55:00.002Z

I just got back from an assignment in Liberia for the African Women's Development Fund. I was expecting to see struggle but I saw more. I saw Hope in her best of moods. I wish you all the best Liberia, may your love for Liberty prevail against all the odds.

Horny Brain

2010-08-01T16:18:00.001Z

Her brain is horny but the world is sterile.
Bored strands of hair take french leave daily.

Obama now advertises biscuits.
The sea has a nappy rash.

I never got to say thank you
But at least I can live it.

Today we broke a model in. She was 19 and unsure.
Wrinkles secretly dates Confidence.

A bishop moves side ways and finally falls to a pawn.
We were after the king but bishops also work.

An immigration officer has new excuse to squeeze my balls.
A Nigerian terrorist set his balls on fire on a plane.

African leaders prefer erections to elections.
Aid money buys condoms, viagra and booze.

The belly of the catapult

2010-07-29T05:35:00.002Z

Home is a wanderer’s desire
Or ever recurring nightmare.

Home is root and seed
And beginning and end
To every life story.

Home is mother’s love
And or father’s aura.

Home is a web or a blanket
Or a bank of fear or hope.

Home is the roof that separates
You and the hot, scorching sun.

Home is the belly of the catapult
And the stone’s final stop.

What is Beauty to you?

2010-07-26T04:54:00.004Z

I thought we could start this week with something interesting. Felivian, the model in the first picture is one I enjoy photographing. She fits a textbook definition of what a beautiful model should look like.

But just like fashion, music and life in general, trends and definitions change. In some cases, the definitions are pretty ancient but not necessarily obsolete. I photographed these two ladies in Yamasoukrom. I think they are very beautiful too.
But even beyond the physical/ visual definitions of beauty, I know that true beauty is an inner thing. The women who have made the most impressions on me have not always been physically gorgeous but I bet every single one of them had beamed with so much dignity, intelligence, charm, wit and an undeniable appetite for life and laughter. That... to me, is beauty.
What is your definition of beauty?

Wedding crumbs for Lovebirds

2010-07-23T04:06:00.003Z

Considering the millions of decisions and emotional ups and downs a couple go through when they decide to get married, it is not surprising that they sometimes lose sight of some of the simplest but key things that need to be addressed. This blog post is to hopefully make it easier for the soon-to-wed. I hope you enjoy these crumbs of advise. It is the least I could do for you lovebirds.

DON’T CUT CORNERS, JUST THE CAKE.
Knowing that weddings are once-in-a-lifetime events for most people, does it really make sense to cut corners? If you manage to turn your wedding into a nightmare, it will be one that will haunt you for life. At least, once every year, on your wedding anniversary the demons of “cheaptitude” will come out to haunt you… and trust me. You don’t want that to happen. From my experience photographing a lot of weddings, one of the things I’ve noticed, is that the couple who compromise on the quality of anything from cake to dress to photographer to venue are not necessarily the ones who don’t have money. They are normally victims of inadequate planning and research.

MONEY CAN’T BUY CLASS
You’ve worked so hard to save a million dollars and you want an out-of-this world wedding. Or more realistically, you have a few thousands of dollars and you want the world to notice your great day. Now, here is where you must p-p-p-p-pause.
I’ve seen a beautiful woman step into a wedding dress that made her look like a bloated white peacock that just got mangled by a boerbull . I still shiver from the memory of once watching a bride’s face move from beautiful to pretty to okay to ugly to scary with each application of make up by an apparently expensive make up artist who obviously lacked the requisite skills.
I once attended a wedding where the bride arrived with ten maids and the groom also hand ten men all dressed in some designer clothes, which obviously cost the couple a lot of money but guess what? They had the wedding in some uncompleted church building that was hidden in the corner of a dusty road in a very undeveloped part of Accra. I bet they will get upset anytime they see their album.
Considering how many wedding catalogues and magazines and planners exist, I wonder why couples just won’t borrow class from these experts?

DO MICROSCOPIC AND TELESCOPIC PLANNING
It doesn’t take much to ruin a wedding. Actually most weddings aren’t ruined by an absconded groom or a fainting bride. Weddings are often ruined by little things like… the cake that doesn’t arrive on time or the wedding rings that can’t be found because the best man has too many pockets or the unregistered wedding vehicle that gets arrested by the police or the bride’s shoe that broke as she was getting out of the car but there is no spare. I remember being an MC at a wedding where the bride had to be whisked away during the exchange of vows because her period had come out of the blue. Even the pen to sign the register can hold up a wedding for an uncomfortably long time. Plan to the minutest details. Leave nothing to chance.

MONEY SAVED IS MARRIAGE SAVED
You don’t want to start your married life with debt. Try as much as possible to have a debt free wedding. Cutting down expenditure whilst maintaining quality requires far more skill than you might think but it is possible. One of the best ways to cut down on a wedding budget is to plan and book for services way in advance. Lots of wedding vendors book couples for at least one year ahead and offer reasonable packages for early birds.

GOOD WEDDING PHOTOGRAPHERS COST A LOT OF MONEY
“WHAT??? $3000 for just one day wedding?” Lord knows how many times I’ve heard that at the other end of the line. What most couples don’t consider is that even though they are marrying in one day, the photographer’s job goes on for far longer than the one day. Good photographers are good photographers because of the amount of respectable time they put into planning, taking and editing their photographs and albums. A typical wedding can take up to a month to edit. So, what the pro wedding photographer charges for, is not just a day’s work but actually all the other hours that will go into making your images look as adorable as you dreamed them. If there is one area in life where the saying, “You get what you pay for” is so true, it is with wedding photography. Imagine trying to create over 300 iconic images that a couple’s great grandchildren are supposed to come and appreciate.

Most good wedding photographers also have special packages for early birds or offer a payment plan that often makes the payment less burdensome even though they often require 100% deposit before they turn up and shoot at the wedding.

LAST DAYS ARE DANGEROUS
That’s what we used to say back in school and it is very true for couples who are about to get married too. There is nothing as pathetic as an overly stressed bride and groom on their wedding day. Normally, you notice they get short tempered, they can’t manage a smile and even look dissociated from the event. Every bride must have her beauty sleep before the d day. Planning in advance and delegating tasks to reliable friends, family and colleagues can also ensure that there is very little to worry about come that day.

It is also not uncommon to hear just a few days or weeks to a wedding that a couple have broken up. Even worse, some divorce immediately after the wedding. Planning a wedding can be extremely stressful. Throw in the money dimension and your stress levels can be life threatening. So please strategize because if you fail to plan… I know, it is such a cliche but it is true.

Thanks for reading and do have the best time of your life on your wedding day.

*Feel free to ask any questions you might have and I will try and answer them here. Cheers, Nana Kofi

Don't let the little girl grow up and leave

2010-07-20T07:17:00.003Z

Don’t let the little girl grow up and leave
Laughter, play and unrestrained joy behind.

Shield her from wars, cowards and heartbreaks.
Don't let the little girl grow.

An address to fathers and photos of my daughter

2010-07-13T23:26:00.006Z

Today’s children grow up not properly knowing what role their fathers are supposed to play in their lives. Some call it evolution. Some call it modernity. Some even call it reality. None of these descriptors are further from the truth.
Fatherhood today is a meaningless word in the minds of many a child; and an attempt to even give it shape or form will lead to the sculpting of a monster that stands on two feet but is propped heavily against senseless ideologies that eat away at his spine. Man today, is emasculated and crashed to fit into some cold, uncaring flask in this laboratory called civilization. He is overpowered by the stench of his weak will and he floats aloof. Expiring. Unwanted. Useless. Unsure. Endangered.

To every male human who has sired a child, I call you to order. Your Creator calls you to order. Your duty goes beyond the fleeting seconds of orgasmic rapture. Actually, you were raptured into a new life; a new kingdom. You must bear the torch of hope and promise, even if its very flames scorch you. If your legs fail you, crawl or swim or fly into the light destined for your children and the children after them.

No matter how big a man’s member is, it will not be bigger than his arm. God deliberately made it so. With your strong arms, you must lift your children up. With your strong arms, you must carry your world on your shoulders. With your strong arms, you must unsheathe that sword of Fiery Faith and wrestle your children’s destiny from the very snares that made you fail.

Manhood is not defined by the channels on a TV Set nor by the tuner on a radio set nor by the fine prints on some sheet of paper or ipad. Man is designed by his Maker to dominate his world and to love his woman and to raise his children into useful, wanted, resourceful adults, and this duty he must perform at whatever cost; even if it costs him his life.
Man is the ultimate lighthouse. Raise up your head and shine your children back to Meaning and Hope and Faith and Love.

Just another day in Zongo

2010-07-12T22:43:00.001Z

During my advertising years, I had a senior colleague- a man who had seen it all, earned it all and lived it all. He once confided in me that in moments of sadness, he goes to any of Accra’s “slums” Zongo, Nima… wherever is closest and just watch the people carry out their simple lives with so much grace, laughter and contentment.

Have a colourful, meaningful week ☺