Januuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaary, Feb…….. still loading.


January was really sluggish. After nearly 60 days this month of new beginning finally died. God knows how many resolutions got broken before then. In their defense, it was an unrealistically long month. Now February is here. February’s only worry is love; the season of love as we all know it to be. Ironically more hearts have been broken than those that have been connected in this month and it’s just midway.


Now the highlight of the month, St. Valentine’s Day a.k.a Chocolate day a.k.a Condom Shortage Day has finally been laid to rest for 2017. In the past 48 hours, destinies have been changed. Lives have been affected. Savings have been depleted, moneys have been squandered and many now look to the promises the end of month hold. Of course I speak with no subjective attachment to what I am saying. Just echoing the plight of many.

We have unequivocally chosen a day to engage in debauchery and lustful escapades and have carefully pinned it on love. Clever! Just as parents incessantly have parties in the name of their kids and before you realize it’s an old people’s party. Now back to the issue of love. What is love? Apart from being the most abused word on planet earth of course. Many have attempted to put love in a box and label it.  Either they get the size of the box is too small or the get the spelling on the label wrong.


The point is, there is no standardized measure or word to describe it… except love is Christ. But how do we expect these folks on the street to portray it when they actually think “Heaven helps those who help themselves” is a real quote in the Bible. I am no guru on the Christ Love but even I know love is pain.

I may deceive myself and say I feel love sometimes. With particular emphasis on sometimes; the most we feel. What happens to the other times. Remember when in the past decade you would go to a wedding and the cake served was all sugar on the outside the inside as bitter as bile but started tasting better if ate enough of it? Apparently it was symbolic of the nature of love. Sweet on the outside and bitter on the inside till you got used to it. But these days the cake is sweet all the way the cake stand. No wonder young couples are filled with unrealistic expectations of an ‘ever-sweet union’ resulting in divorces.


Forgive my charlatanry, I am no expert on the topic hence my ludicrous verbal onslaught. I doubt I will recognize it if it sat next to me on the back seat of a ‘troski’ to work.  But what I know is love is not a box of chocolate neither is it found at the end of a wanton lustful odyssey resulting in a short-lived orgasm. Love is sweat, love is pain, love is honey sprinkled on quinine. Love is “Pick a taxi for me to Kasoa and walk for 25 minutes to get a troski to your junction before finishing the rest of the journey home on foot.” But once again, what do I know, I don’t know love.


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