Creator's World

THE LIVING SOAM By: Emmanuel Coleman This morning, when I bought my copy of the Daily Graphic, his picture was boldly displayed on the front page. I haven’t seen his face for the past twenty years. When I read the headlines it said: CONTRACTOR CONVICTED FOR CAUSING FINANCIAL LOSS TO THE STATE. The story said he had defrauded the state of over fifty-five million dollars for contracts he wasn’t awarded and never performed. The judge sent him away for a whopping seventy-three years in prison with hard labour. That was as good as a life sentence. When we were in the second term of our first year in Bishop Lawrence’s Boys Secondary School, Kwesi Enu joined us from another school. He became both my class mate and dormitory mate. He was a lively little chap who most of the time wore a self-satisfied grin on his face. In no time he became one of the most troublesome juniors in the school. In fact not a single day would pass without my friend getting into one form of trouble or the o

By: Emmanuel Coleman As the young lady approached him, Kwaku Kissi saw she looked friendly. Maybe she could be of help to him. Maybe she could suggest a boarding house or hostel he could spend the night. “Hello, wie gehts?  My name is Gerda,” she said. “Wie heist zu? What’s yours?” “My name is Kwaku,” he replied. “I’m looking for somewhere to lodge for the night. Can you help me?” “Why don’t you come home with me?” Gerda suggested without thinking. “I live alone in my cottage; you can sleep in one of my rooms.” Kwaku Kissi couldn’t believe his luck. And Gerda, she only realized what she had done when Kwaku thanked her profusely. She shrugged and said, “Let’s get on the way before I change my mind.” They strolled together through the lanes towards the edge of the village where Gerda’s home stood. It was a sweet little cottage surrounded by a well-kept garden. She had inherited it from her parents who also inherited it from Gerda’s paternal grandparents. Her parents an

By: Emmanuel Coleman Kwaku Kissi was running from the Polizei and immigration officials. His crime? He was an illegal economic immigrant. The day before, he was nearly accosted because someone informed the police of his illegal status. He had to take flight to avoid deportation. He had clambered down the fire escape of the next door and hid in a drain until the cops left before he could get away. He did not have anywhere in particular to go to so he headed in one direction hoping that he would get as far as possible from the long arm of the polizei and immigration. He walked through back alleys and took care to avoid contact with people. He trudged on and on, famished and knackered, until he found himself in the countryside. He kept on with his journey to God knows where. Now and then a truck passed him by. Now and then a lone car whizzed past. On one occasion, a polizei patrol car cruised by but thankfully the occupants paid no attention to the lone hiker on the road. He

 Oh! Babies!!! A little bundle of delight Full of joy and wonder of the unknown A blessing to a couple A gift to all.