Awuramacreates

I still remember the aura of our little old room; a rainy smell, mixed with the smell of burnt paper and some sunshine, which was always generous on our aluminium roofing sheets.  Mom and dad had freshly seperated and my sisters and I were still adjusting to not having our father at home. So mother rarely stayed indoors, she would often leave before cock's crow to struggle for her profits on the goods she distributed to various shops. She usually returned when we were asleep. I missed her always.  My mum, my sisters and I struggled to create space for sleep in the little room we occupied somewhere in the outskirts of the town. The room was too small to contain all the 'nkukusaka' of five females; yet that is what my mother could afford. She was still traumatized by the seperation and her feminine ego of independence will not recieve any kind of financial support from my father or anyone else. There was nothing to complain about; we had our daily three square meals, water to...

I've been thinking. What other comforting news or systems have been put in place for those of us who hail from nothing, but the love of our parents and the little food and shelter they spent their entire lives to provide? 🎨🖌️ Apart from from luck, grace, working hard and smart, and self motivation which keeps us going, brings food to our table and keeps us alive, there is nothing like a trust fund, an inheritance, a secret savings account or an insurance that we can fall on, if things go south and grey. 🎨🖌️ Where I come from, your little achievements, comfort and happiness stimulates your family and friends into jealousy and raised eyebrows which will subsequently lead to a scheme to pull you down. 🎨🖌️ When you fall in love with a rich man, "you are in love with him because of his money". Your burdens and your family's burdens becomes his burden. He will eventually get tired and his love and respect for you will diminish. After all, "you're just a a bu...

..... And there I was on my porch, rocking myself up and forth to the rhythm of an unknown melody. Unknown to myself and to the world. 🗑️ My gaze was fixed on the bridge that leads to my hut; while I smoked my pipe with the hopes that the fire I inhale will penetrate my lungs to my heart. Oh yes burn! 🗑️🗑️ Dear pipe whom I smoke, burn it all. Because every fibre of my heart has been murdered. Murdered by my own imaginations and the deeds of men; disrespect and betrayal.  Oh yes, burn it all!  🗑️🗑️🗑️ When it is well cremated, do not worry about the chars. They will escape through my pores and valves. Dear old pipe whom I smoke, burn it all. 🗑️🗑️🗑️🗑️

How did we get here? When did we get here? What are we doing here? And how will we get there? Our world gets confusing sometimes. We don't choose to get confused, it's just what happens. 📝 It gets confusing because we get drown in doubts, uncertainties and misfortunes. It gets confusing because we hardly see our plans and visions manifested; but when they do get manifested, we find joy and purpose in and for our lives. A lot of things that brings us joy is momentarily. But if you find that one that doesn't fade away, you begin to think that, that's your purpose in your life. Or Is it? 📝📝📝

It's been three years since I told myself that I'll step out and sing. It's been three years since I told myself, that I won't let my weaknesses, flaws and negatives run my life. That I won't let being shy, introverted and antisocial mix with my talents. It's been three years. 🎉🎉🎉 February 6, 2018.  There were definitely a lot of challenges and ridicule, but I Knew I needed time. I still do.  Lessons learned:  Give yourself time. Make use of it, make the mistakes, learn from the mistakes. You may never get perfect, but you will become the example people look up to. ❣️  Many people are unable to detect my fears, shyness and insecurities. It's because I have decided not to show it. Nobody knows what I go through  before getting up on a stage to hold up a microphone. I hide a lot in my smiles and stage craft. I let myself go, I concentrate on the music and how to relay the message it carries. I'm not perfect, I'm just a learner. Give it time....  ...

I call it grains and pearls because it reflects everything I am, and everything i will ever be. My riches and worth, My values and wisdom, My voice and thoughts, My dreams and imaginations,  My talents, my everything; poured into one record.  Some people will call it an Album, but I will refer to it as a documentation of my grains and pearls. I also call it 'grains and pearls' because this is the Album that will make me, me.  On this piece, I share my ideas with other amazing acts like,  👩‍🦱Lamisi 🧔Atongo Zimba 🧔Kwame Brenya 🧔Kpodo 🧔Obiri Tete Nana Kwame 🧔Agya Sei Korankye 🧔Fimfim 🧔🧔🧔🧔🧔The legon palmwine band 🧔🧔🧔🧔Kwanpa Band And likely other amazing acts that I'm yet to discover.  The record is rich. It is full of grains and pearls. It will be called 'timeless'. It will appear on Tabloids and Bill boards. It will represent Awura-Ama Agyapong, Ghana, Africa to the universe and generations. It is everything you will ever call music.  📀Grains and pear...

"Aunty Anna", the name many of her friends and family called her. But to me, she'll always be "Nana". My grandmother, My councilor and friend.  We've always been close. But adulthood and school drew me away from her especially last year. Then came the global pandemic, then the lockdown in Accra; a blessing in disguise; That was when we got closer. All work and schooling activities had been put on hold, so I spent a lot of time with her. There, I learned that it pleases her when I pass through her room to say good morning every day and leave her a peck. I always made her bed and folded her washed clothes. She also liked it when I buy her a pack of tea bags, a tin of low fat milk and some brown sugar. Because of this, she didn't mind sharing her tea with me.(She never shares her tea with anyone 😊) She had a habit of taking hot tea with milk every morning, and in the afternoons, then a bowl of fufu with light soup for supper. I remember her for a lot of th...