INDEPENDENCE :A radio Drama Series

Authors Note : Heyy. Remember I told you about a writing job . It was about a radio drama series titled INDEPENDENCE .It is airing on Citifm 97.3 fm at 9:15am with repeats at 7:05pm. Find us on twitter @documentaviz  Facebook  : Independence radio series

The series chronicles major events that occured in Ghanaian history leading to independence in 1957. The Battle of Cape Coast, The battle of Nsamankow, The bond of 1844, The Sagrenti War , The Christianborg Crossroad Shooting, Kwame Nkrumah and the big six arrest and others.This is an opportunity to learn more of Hhana and its long winding history.

Here is a teaser 

Visit for more information



Authors Note: This vacation has been hectic.I got a writing job(And its cool roff).My serial story is almost finished.Enjoy this piece on death, pain and mourning.

Black Spiders

Red Cobwebs

Tears and anger stirred in tar

Spiced with ginger

For when death comes,

It cares not for vanity

It cares not for pride 

Or haughtiness

Or prestige

Neither doesvit care for white or brown or green or yellow or pink

Pain is colourless.


AUTHORS NOTE: Hi , Its been a long time hasn’t it?.I’m still battling procrastination but working on the series.Meanwhile, enjoy this.

Beautiful man,


He fades.

His stem droops and the pot of gold

On his neck, slowly dulls, losing their glitter

The gold ,specks of it,

Now lies in my pot.

Who knew that antiques  died too.

That beautiful old things cracked.?broke.? faded.?…

Like naphthalene.

It dies beautifully like naphthalene.


He cries.

He cries because he is dead and no one seems to notice.

The darkness is overpowering,

He can’t find himself.He gropes here and there hoping to at least find a small part of himself in the darkness.

For he knows he is broken. In Pieces.

That’s really why he cries

Because the dead are broken souls who do not know themselves.


Authors Note: Agoo!(a vocalised Akan knocking) Hope all is good.I got this play from my sisters book list for High School.And its excellent 

So Ananse, the ever cunning man in Ghanaian folklore tells a complex lie in order to make money for himself and his daughter Anansewaa .He decides to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to four different chiefs.Until they all decide to do the Knocking rites( Marriage rites) on the same day.How does George K. Ananse untangle this web he has spurn. Find a copy and enjoy one of Ghana’s greatest plays by one its great writers, Efua T.Sutherland.


  Authors Note: Heyy!Did you miss me? The Last week has been hectic presentations and things.I’m still working on the series though.Meanwhile enjoy Impressions.

I wanted to impress you

So I put on really high heels

And make up and whitened my skin.

I wanted to impress you,

So I sagged my jean

And used vulgar words.

I wanted to impress you,

So I emptied my accounts

And bought you golden words and silver skies.

I  wanted to impress you,

 So I had all the children

My womb could bear.

I wanted to impress you, 

So I let you decide my life

And plan my future.

Poor me, lucky you.


Author’s Note : So I hope you are good.Im still working on my series(Still dealing with my addiction to procrastination..hmm)I hope it gets ready soon.This is a poem I wrote years ago in SHS.Enjoy


We are killers

Look at the blood

Its coppery smells intoxicates me.

We killed her

The blood drives me crazy

Her round-face haunts me.

Like the face from my worst nightmares.The spider with the human face, screaming in pain.

Her cries taunts me.She shouts my name

Whenever I shut my eyes

Like the Larbis in my school days

She attacks when I least expect.

We called her names

“Mother of none”, “Empty womb”, “The woman’s whose birthing right was withheld by the heavens”, “witch.”

We called her all sorts of names. Making and coining custom-made names just for her.

We cast boulders at her with the superhuman strength of our lips.

We led her to lose a husband.A man who wasn’t man enough.

He run when we begun.

When we began hurling the stones, just days before we progressed to boulders.

We dragged her with invisible ropes.

We dragged her to the bridge and forced her to jump.

With just our lips. How powerful we are!

We are murderers.We are killers

She died silently, without spilling any blood.

Yet our hands are soaked in blood and our heads are filled with her screams.