A TALE OF TWO TENANTS

From Jonny...

The Marriage of my three big sisters, my brother's job, the education of my two younger siblings and recently  the demise of my dad have turned the once noisy and lively house  of ours into a quiet place with  just my mum, myself and the dogs occasionally slumming doors and barking respectively.

The idea of renting some of the rooms out though bitter to swallow became necessary since I am hardly in the house to keep my mother company due to the nature of my work as “a professional gossip”.

I have heard fascinating compound house stories from friends, relatives and seen their enactment in TV series such as Neighbours, The Tenants, Living with Tricia and a number of African movies and so I consider the arrival of the new tenants as a chance to experience and confirm these tales.

I was battling with the 26 letters of the alphabet in search of a suitable title for a news story I had just completed when a truck pulled up in front of our house amidst corn mill -like noise.

My three dogs I collectively call Girls- Girls began to bark.  Two persons; a man and a woman alighted from the front of the truck just as I came out of my room to find out whose arrival had woken up my girls which were brooding over the loss of their little one, knocked down by a car after seeing me off to work earlier in that morning.

I could not immediately make them out from the distance because I was not in my glasses. But after drawing a bit near the truck and seeing the sofa, the queen size mattress, the dressing mirror with some “tapole”, ladles and other assorted cooking utensils peeping from a big basket tightly tied together with a variety of household items at the back of the truck, I immediately confirmed that the newly married couple who had rented some rooms in our house   were ready to move in.

Behold, the status of our private residence of over 25 years is about to change to become a compound house with all the wahala that comes with that change.

I am going to miss our private life especially the washroom moments. I can no longer spend long hours on the water closet reading a novel, newspaper, browsing, whatsapping or even generating some stories and ideas as I “download”. I can no longer sing like it's nobody's business as I shower but it's not bad at all because after all I am the landlord.

I see the change as part of life and as the two tenants move in with their bags, baggage and bundle of behavior, I am prepared and poised to share “my washroom”, utility bills and take up the responsibilities as a landlord.

 A tale of two tenants has begun, Life beyond university continues.

DEATH HACKED MY DREAM

From Drew

2009, I paid little attention to him. I started listening to the BBC Radio after June 2009. I could listen 24/7, but I always looked out for the BBC’s World Today (now News Day).

I always loved waking up at dawn, lie on my bed and listen to Komla’s voice, not so much of the news when he is on air, just the voice.

I had always wanted to be in the news media, until recently that public relations started cropping into my heart. Listening to him, while he was miles away in London, I knew I had made the right decision to divert from business

to media and communications.

He wasn't my only inspiration though; Oprah Winfrey is also one of the people I looked up to, to gather the courage and go into the media. Oprah once said, “You need to find a way to make money from what you love”.

I love the media, it is hot, fast, no room for delay, very little room for error, adrenaline and testosterone flowing everywhere, camera, lights, pen, paper, microphones, attention (yeah attention), incredible power to determine the subject of conversation of people I will never meet or know, and most of all, the ability to loose yourself in a story and shape people's opinions.

So it was just right that I get a career and earn money from doing something I really, really, really loved.

I have never told my friends about this, but I always imagined myself interviewing Komla and Oprah (not at the same time) and of course the Queen, sometimes I sit in my room and talk to myself, pretending like I'm interviewing one of them. 

You might not get it, but it's just like what aspiring musicians do, when they stand in front of their mirror and sing pretending they are singing to a crowd of people, when really, the only audience they have is their own image in the mirror mimicking them and not paying attention to their incredible or not so incredible voice.

Just like myself whose dream of interviewing Komla is now going to be just that (a dream), I know Komla also really wanted to interview the man himself, Nelson Mandela (he never got the chance too).

Recovering from the sad news of his death, one thing I cheered myself with was that, “Komla just couldn't wait to interview Nelson Mandela, and that he had to follow him to where he is”.

         ~~Rest In Peace Komla, from my LBU friends and myself~~

A NATIONAL SERVICE TALE

My elder brother and most of people  i know, all had smooth transitions from tertiary education to seeing out their national service. Therefore,  I foolishly never thought I would encounter any problems, when my turn came.How wrong I was!

Well, during the events described in my last post I was  so distracted I only laughed at the screen that read Lemuel Michael Nortey, Dachio JHS, Bolga municipality.

That is the evidence people

Well my grandma was buried and then it all dawned on me finally, that If I really want to do my national service then I have to go to Bolgatanga.Please I'm not discriminating or something like that, but for someone like me who has stayed in Accra most of his life with intermittent visits only to as far as Sunyani in the Brong Ahafo region and  a strong dislike for hot temperatures, the whole situation was like a haze.

Okay so that is when family came in, calling uncles and influential family members to pull strings However, with a every effort to change my posting failing, I've  increasingly become interested in the weather forecast for the upper West region,confirming my worst fears every single time with very high temperatures.I also searched out any information about he school, only to find out it was not any where near Bolgatanga but in a village at the outskirts of the city.

After all the stressing on this issue, I finally managed to psyche myself to leave, with a box of sunblock and bright  cloths, only for several assurances to start pouring in again of a reposting.

Time is running out and every time I see  this service posting on my phone, my heart skips a beat. There is at the time of writing this, no positive news regarding my reposting.

Thus when my mates start telling of their exploits during national service, I feel ermmm.... whats the word? FRUSTRATED AH!

Hey guys but,it seems not doing my service  is not such a  distressing thought anymore ...with each passing  second I'm beginning to feel at ease with deferring the service, to work and be done with my first degree.However, nothing is decided, promise you guys will be among  the first to know.

Till my next post I hope things turn out fine.However I do realise that life beyond university is all people ever say it is, full of disappointments and surprises.

Ones  i could not control, but hey, you know  what they say no condition is permanent .Thus I'll be waiting, patiently for smiles to hit my face again.Hope same happens to you too.

2013 IN PERSPECTIVE

Lemuel…

www.lifebeyounduniversity.blogspot.com is the blog, no sorry, that's the one we can call our blog! And when I say "our" I don't mean just the three self important guys that founded this blog but it includes you our dear, fantastic and amazing reader.

Yes! We say "our" because we feel you've been with us since our first post. With more than a thousand views throughout the world we know for sure that you have both read and identified with our stories. We can't thank you enough.

Drew…

My growing-up-year is how I describe 2013. Lots of things occurred that changed my life, one of those amazing things is this blog. It has allowed me to use my own life as a test book for the subject of life to the benefit of myself and all the incredible friends who log onto this site daily.

I am grateful for everything that happened in 2013. I mean, I graduated from the Ghana Institute of Journalism! With my crazy friends, ha! Oh, and one of them; Lemuel Nortey won best student! I also enjoyed the mini birthday parties of my dad, three big brothers and of course myself. Have I mentioned that I was posted to Graphic Communications Group Limited for my National Suffering, sorry typo, National Service?

Actually, all those events did not require a lot of growing up from me like the last quarter of 2013 did. Two of my friends, Eric Ninson and Jonathan Donkor lost their mother and father respectively. Actually, Jonathan told me of his dad’s passing the very day I was returning from Eric’s mum’s funeral. I had to learn how to support a friend in emotional pain. I can’t say I did a fantastic job but I did my best.

I look forward to 2014 with much optimism and hope that it will be a good and challenging year. Why wouldn’t it be challenging if I have to secure a job and go back to school after National Service (happy I got that right) and simultaneously establish a company in the agricultural business. Agriculture in this country is not an easy industry and I know I will have fun breaking into it.

Jonny….

Whew! What an expedition. Time really flies. The last time I remember, I was writing the very first entry in my fantasy diary for 2013 ; pledging myself to be at my very best socially , academically, morally  spiritually and  all the “ally’s” but here I am on the last page giving a retrospective view of the year.

2013. Hmm! (searching Google and flipping through the dictionary) the hunt for the most suitable adjective to describe it has been tough. How I wish I could combine “CHALLENGING” and “FULFILLING” and simply say “CHA-FILLING” because the combination of the two best describes my 2013.  

I chose CHALLENGING because death whisked away two of people closest people to my heart; granny and daddy. Their demise hurt so much that Life beyond university somewhat came to a pause; even graduation did not turn out as planned because the family photo would not be complete without these two people.

Alas! The FULFILLING moments came as love lifted me. Albeit my new found love cannot fill the vacuum created by the departure of daddy and granny, she has created her own which cannot also be filled as I have cast her to play lead in the new seasons of my love life.

I am not privy to what 2014 holds; whether another “CHA-FILLING” one or I would have to create another word   but whatever it is I am optimistic because in Christ Alone I place my trust.

 Lemuel here again; I personally feel especially honored to be a host writer on this blog, together with Jonathan and Andrew. However, it shouldn't have to be just us, be a part of this phenomenon, be a writer, be our guest writer! It’s totally therapeutic to tell your own story to the world, believe me I know.

On that note I sign out with the utmost conviction that we have entertained and benefited you since our first post on the 11th of May, 2013. Continue to pass by each time you are online because Life Beyond University just got better. Till our next and 12th post; This is www.lifebeyonduniversity.blogspot.com.

I’M GLAD YOU WERE MY DAD

    

JONNY

Life beyond university was moving on well; at least I was enjoying the 77 steps to my place of posting, my numerous church activities and dreaming of sharing my graduation photos with my family, until Sunday evening of October 6, when death gave me a hard knock on my head, waking me up from my day dream.

Ouch! It still hurts because I am yet to recover from the pain that comes with losing a father.

And so with this poem I wrote about three father’s days ago, not knowing I was writing a tribute to him, I would like to express how special my dad, the late Mr. William Kwame Wasaa Donkor is to me.

                                 

~I’m GLAD you're my DAD~

 I know my dad may never read this

But whether he does or not, it is still his

For all the love words you told my mum,

And all the love songs you had to hum,

For all the lovely gifts you had to buy too

Until finally she said 'I do',

I'm glad

You’re my dad.

For all the strength you lost in making me,

For all the styles though I didn't see,

And for all the silly errands you had to go

All because pregnant mum said so,

I'm glad

You're my dad.

For all the prayers you said till 27th august dawn,

For all the stress till I was finally born,

For all the baby sitting you did whenever mum was away

And all the lullabies you sang to make me play,

I'm glad

You're my dad

For the trouble you went through when I got burnt on my chest,

And the countless times you took me to the clinic for eye test,

For the lenses and frames you continuously bought

And I carelessly broke while I slept or fought,

I'm glad

You're my dad

For each spank, for each slap, for each blow,

For each knock, for each lash I saw you throw,

I hated you but now I’ve grown and I know

That they were only to help me grow

A day will come that I will be called daddy too

And I’ll do my best to be lauded like you

My ears went close to my sweetheart's tummy today

And I’m sure I heard each of my future twins say;

I'M GLAD

YOU'RE MY DAD

{written in June 2011}

 I wake up each morning hoping to hear him knock on my door, reminding me of morning devotion. I enter the living room in the afternoon hoping to find a white bearded man asleep in the sofa with both the TV and radio on; I intentionally fall asleep at the living room in the evening waiting to feel his hand waking me up to go to my own bed.

 As I prepare to physically part with him on Saturday December 14, I know he will still be up there watching over his little boy.

I miss my dad, yes I do but I guess his maker misses him more.

GOOD SAMARITANS DO EXIST!

From Drew.

Every now and then we fall on our friends and family to help us get through the difficulties of life. We may rely on them for financial help, education, health and/or other essential areas of life.

I used to think people only help the people they know. The person may be a high school friend, or even that guy in the neighborhood you may never have spoken with, yet helping such a person would seems much better, simply because of the fact that you are familiar with the person to some extent.

When I went to Takoradi for my National Service, I was struck with much surprise in a mesmerizing way, by how the people, whom I have never met before, were enthusiastic to helping me find a place to stay or perch for a night.

The people I met there were really kind and very welcoming. I was drawn to tears at a point when somebody offered me his three bedroom house for free! Nobody was staying in the house, so he wanted me to stay there for at least two weeks while I look for my own place (he was helping me find a place).

I never had to move to the three bed room apartment because an old friend of mine got me another place. Once again my host did not know me.

I am surprised by all these because I was wondering how I could invite a total stranger to my dad’s house in Accra to sleep over. My contemplation was not about whether my dad would allow it or not. It was more about whether I would opt to do that favor in the first place.

I want to believe that I am a kind person but I do not think I could do what those people in Takoradi did. I think one needs a certain divine inspiration of some sort to be able to be that kind.

They have inspired me to help people more. I realized I don’t have to always be in my comfort zone before I can help someone in need. They opened up their homes for me and they demanded nothing from me, nothing, except of course, to be a good person just so they don’t regret showing an act of kindness to a total stranger.

Prior to my National Service I had given up on the idea of helping people because some people (most of whom are members of my extended family) I had helped had disappointed and disgraced me in the end which sometimes made me curse myself for helping them.

I have a different perception for people now. I have got a renewed Do-Good-Spirit. It doesn’t matter whether or not I know the person who needs my help all I can do is help when I’m approached.

This will be one of many positive things that I can attribute to my national service with Graphic Communications Group Limited.

Thank you to Mr. Agyekum, Cyrus, Ralph, Micheal and my own aunt; Aunty Efuah and her family for their warm welcome to the oil city of Ghana!

When someone calls on you for help, all you need to do is to try and help. You may not be able to achieve the desired results in the end, what is most important is that you at least tried.

PS: Please make sure you are not awarded one of these.

Have you been on the receiving end of some amazing act of kindness? Tell us about it!