Good Reads for the New Year - My Picks

So I read this inspiring book by Hugh MacLeod about creativity, originality, balance and doing something that matters entitled "Ignore Everybody - And 39 Other Keys to Creativity" and I thought it would be selfish to keep it to myself. I wanted to share it here especially since I can't afford to buy it for every creative person I know! Since I'm sharing books with you, via recommendation, I thought why not include three of my favorite books - totally good! Here ya go!

 By the talented Nigerian author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Read my review of the book in Obaasema magazine.  It's a historical fiction...my favorite kind of book! You're fed with information about a major historical event that affected the lives of many in Nigeria. The writer does an incredible job of giving life to her characters, which makes the story feel even more real. A must read! 

Ahhh Simon Montefiore! I actually chanced upon this book last year at a Dollar Store in Philadelphia for...guess how much? One dollar!! And I would've bought it again if it were selling at the original price of $27.00. It's my first read by Montefiore and I'm totally a fan. Another historical fiction...yeah, I gravitate towards these books without thinking! But this one is also good, set from 1916-1994 Russia, the author does a great job of weighing Marxism and Capitalism through the lives of his characters. I loved it and will definitely read it again.   

Uh-oh, Mr. "Godfather" himself. Although Puzo didn't complete this book before his death - and folks have criticized it for its lack of authenticity and whatnot, I still enjoyed it and appreciated what Puzo attempted to creatively do with this novel. I actually got this book, for free, about six years ago on my way back from a meeting with my journalism professor in school. It was just lying on a shelf without an owner...I asked prof if I could have it and he gave the go ahead. Another historical fiction set in 15th century Rome. I'll read it again.

An Interview I Should've Shared Months Ago

Thought I would share an interview of me conducted some months ago by Global Voices Online author, Steve Sharra. I just recently went back to really read it and realized that I never shared it here! So here ya go! See below:

TOWARDS THE 'IDEAL WOMAN': MEET BLOGGER AND JOURNALIST LINDA ANNAN

GHANA IN PICTURES: Aburi - Bosomase Waterfalls

Aburi mountains is another part of Ghana that screams with natural beauty! It's breezy and offers a great view of towns below and makes for a great location to hike and bike! Below are images shot on a recent hiking trip to the Bosomase waterfalls, about 7 kilometers away from Aburi town.

Driving up the mountain, entering Aburi

A view of the city from the mountains

En route to hiking destination

Hiking path

Yours truly walking behind nephew & tour guide getting close to Bosomase Waterfalls

Bosomase Waterfalls

GHANA IN PICTURES: Central Region - Elmina

So, I've been obsessed with Cape Coast and Elmina since my visit in November 2011. Although the story about my trip (read here) was heavy, I did get to enjoy some of the incredible scenes offered by this central part of Ghana. A sucker for all things nature, I couldn't help but capture these stills on camera.

SUNSET IN ELMINA (Market place around the Elmina slave dungeon)

KIDS PLAYING OFF THE COAST AT ELMINA BEACH OVERLOOKING THE SLAVE DUNGEON

SUNRISE AT ELMINA

MORE SUNSET STILLS FROM RESORT IN ELMINA

Cape Coast - Two Days With My Ancestors

I never had much appreciation for  Ghanaian history until I moved to America. As a teenager living In Ghana my connection to history mostly rested with my Cultural Studies teacher in the classroom. Once school closed everything remained there, except for the knowledge that stayed with me- partly because I needed to know them for my exams. Now, in the United States, even as a teenager, I never fully understood the emotional reaction to African history, i.e. slavery, by African Americans. I thought they overreacted with slavery this and slavery that and repatriation there and what not. It wasn't until I hit about age 21 and began exploring and growing curious about my history that it hit me: that the Cape Coast and  Elmina dungeons are a BIG deal.

Being away from Ghana for about 12 years has helped to produce a great appreciation for a history that is part of my identity. When I decided to go on a two-day vacation in Cape Coast (located in the Central Region of Ghana) just to get away from the noise in Accra, I was unprepared for what lay ahead. In my mind, I was going to relax, rejuvenate and connect deeply with nature (all of which I did). What I didn't realize, though, was that in order for me to experience this I had to undergo some needed pain.

One view of the Cape Coast dungeon

The goal of the first day at Cape Coast was to explore, the first destination being the Cape Coast dungeon (I refuse to call it a "castle" because it's far from that). I went with my friend and two other friends (also visiting from America) that we had just made at the resort. At the dungeon, we were first asked to visit the museum unsupervised while we waited for our tour guide. The museum experience was mild  - I teared up a bit but it was nothing intense. And then it was time for us to begin the actual tour. We began with the male dungeons, which turned out to be emotionally draining for my friend and one of the new friends we had made. My eyes clouded with tears from time to time, but the emotions weren't unbearable so I decided to continue to the female dungeons. That's where everything began to build up for me.

The female dungeons were separated by a walkway that led to the "Door of No Return," the door that led to the sea and ships. Now, as an advocate for women's empowerment, it was difficult to remove myself emotionally from the scene at the female dungeons. As the tour guide provided details, all I could do was to place myself in the story. One of 150 women crammed into the small space fighting for fresh air provided by two small windows located very high up the closing walls. I envisioned myself being dragged out by a guard or "master" forcefully stripped naked of my clothes and raped however many times, just like that. The shame, the helplessness, the violation, anger, sorrow, disgust. I envisioned myself being thrown back into the small dungeon with the other 149 women only to find out later that I was pregnant as a result of being raped by a man who used me to gratify his sexual desires or fantasies. I envisioned my ancestor going through this, a great great great grandmother or aunt or cousin. I wondered exactly what their thoughts were, the fear; their countenance, unexpressed emotions; the state of their hearts, yes, their hearts, which should have been a wellspring of life for them.

I was beginning to feel hot and getting lost in my thoughts. The tears were coming down now. Was I really seeing a mother with a child cowering in the corner or were my thoughts coming to life? Just then the guide's voice interrupted me and I went outside.  He then announced that there was one final stop to make on the tour : "The Condemned Cell."

This was a very small cell created for defiant slaves, all of whom were men. The story behind "The Condemned Cell" is that all of the men who resisted capture were placed here, 50 at a time. This particular cell had no windows or lights and once the door was shut it wasn't opened until the 50th person died of hunger, thirst and mental frustration. Everyone in that cell breathed in the rotten smell of human decay until the last person was gone. On the interior walls of this cell are markings of teeth and nail scratches by the prisoners. To better demonstrate their state of mind, my tour guide shut the door of the cell and turned off the light before narrating the room's historical relevance. This was my breaking point. It felt as though my spirit were connecting with whatever was there - the heaviness was unbearable, the tears uncontrollable. I brushed them aside and forced myself to stay and feel it, feel them, yes, my ancestors, but i couldn't. I could no longer listen or stay in the cell. My tears were now falling in fat amounts on my cheeks and I immediately asked to be let out.

For several minutes, the fresh air outside couldn't console me. I felt drained, literally. I know they were there. It never once felt like I was listening to a historical account. No. It felt present. They were present. I finally understood the journey. It was real.

Accra Floods - Will Gov't Overlook Once Season Ends?

Almost every Ghanaian's response to the storms that have destroyed parts of Accra has been: "Government won't do anything about it." Because they've heard the rhetoric surrounding Accra flooding in years past.

A cab driver I took yesterday at Adabraka would not stop ranting about how terrible the situation was, taking me through areas heavily affected by the torrential rains: people drying their clothes on sidewalks or fence walls. One shop I witnessed displayed brand new air-conditioners apparently filled with water being dried in the sun. What tore my heart the most was the destruction of shelters, mind you, these are low-income areas. These folks are already struggling to survive under previous conditions, how much more now?

A co-worker told me that on his way to work he witnessed victims being pulled out of overflowing bridges. One end of a particular bridge was sealed off with a net to prevent victims from falling into a larger part that had turned into a mini river. Whoa!

One disheartening story is of a young man who took on the task of alerting people of the flood only to be taken away later by the water. Another is of a family at Kasoa that spent the night on their roof top because their house was flooded.

This issue of ineffective drainage systems causing disasters in Accra in the wake of such events has existed for many years. Each government comes into power with empty promises, the opposition comes only to do the same. On yesterday's Minority Caucus on MultiTV's "The Caucus," Kwamena Duncan, Central Regional Secretary of the New Patriotic Party, stated that something must be done about this problem, forgetting that his party was in power for eight years and did absolutely nothing about it.

It's not enough for the president to go out giving condolences. What I saw in the streets of Accra yesterday was simply heartbreaking. And traffic had quadrupled. A 10-minute drive turned into a 45-minute drive.

It is common knowledge that politicians are deceptive, but this is plain wickedness.

Respects to the Dead, Tears for Libya.

When the Libyan revolution began in February I remember thinking to myself, "Whoa, these folks are brave." The fear of Colonel Gaddafi, I realized, had trickled down to me, despite the fact that I had openly spoken against the man on national radio (of course, behind the safety doors of the United States). I have followed the events with keen interest, at one point feeling hopeless when the rebels appeared to be losing ground. My emotions traveled with the curious journalist in me, eager to see, feel and hear everything. There have been moments when I wished I was in Libya, covering some of the events and recording people's stories. I've resorted to watching various web videos of the conflict, but at no point have I cried...until this morning.

The Beep published a story on Friday that just ripped my heart. You can read it and watch the video here. I pay my respects to the dead by shortening my words in this piece. I'll leave my rants for a later article.