Hey Guys, remember I mentioned previously that I was attending a PR/Marketing class? Well, tomorrow will be my last day and frankly I am elated as well as saddened by this fact. Why elated? Because, going for this class in the evenings was not easy (fine, I admit laziness) because I had to contend with traffic, hunger and tiredness. On the other hand I am saddened because of the uniqueness of the people in my class.
The class takes place in a small hall that has existed for more than five decades but, which surprisingly is still in relatively good shape except for the cracking sounds of the floor boards whenever it's stepped on. There is only one door which serves for entry and exit. Thus, whenever one is late and enters the class he/she comes face to face with the lecturer and students. Although, there is only one door and a few windows the temperature is always cold. I literally had to wear a sweater to class everyday. Why? Because some ancient air conditioning system decided to punish us with freezing cold air.
Despite all these elements I enjoy the class because of the students. We are about thirty people from different backgrounds, religion,jobs and even ages.
The student body varies from a Hajjiah who is a midwife who relates every marketing or PR question with scenarios she had in the labour ward or in her clininc. She uses every opportunity to market the services that are available in her clinic like adult circumcision etc. Can you imagine??
Next, we have a funny guy who works at a local radio station called Peace fm. Everything about this guy is hilarious; his smile, his clothes( bright neon shirts) and his english. He has a thick Ashanti accent(if you are Ghanain you will know) so, most of his l's are pronounced as r's. It takes a huge effort for him to say a complete sentence in english. When he finally does I have a huge grin on my face. I absolutely like this guy, he will make you happy every time.
Then we have the "three high class babes". They always come in late, looking fresh with their brazillian weaves cascading down their backs. Sometimes instead of staring at the lecturer I will be staring at their heels or their designer bags!
So, by tomorrow I will have a PR/Marketing certificate and the great thing about it will be how fun it was learning in the class that seemed more like a circus.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Visa Process 2
I would not have taken so long to write the sequel if I had not gotten my visa. I am sure I would have been ranting and blaming the embassy but since I escaped that ordeal, it has made me complacent.
Guess that is the same thing that happens with childbirth right? During labour, women go through the worst pain ever but when the baby is out and they are staring into their child's eyes all the past pain is forgotten.
Anyways this is no excuse, my sincerest apologies.
On to the story, I was called on my phone twice to report to the embassy. One of the most annoying things about this particular embassy is the fact that people queue outside the entry gate waiting for the guards to grant them entry. And, to make make matters worse the main entrance is adjacent to one of the busiest streets in Accra so all those who go through this visa process are likely to be stared at by passerby's, commercial cars and all sorts of people. It is embarassing! All I want is a student visa for a year not a resident permit...furthermore there is recession affecting most of the European countries. Why would I want to stay there??
Next, the door is opened up for you, there are routine security checks and you are ushered into a small hall (my livingroom is even bigger) where you join another queue. There one meets all manner of people. Some coming from small towns all over the country who have been waiting for their visas for ages, business women and young guys applying to schools outside.
I wonder why Africans like travelling out so much, if you tell me to go through this process again I would decline. I have applied for several visas but this particular process was very ANNOYING.
The worst part of it was when I went for the visa and opened my passport... I saw a three month visa!
So, as usual I asked a whole lot of questions to the guy behind the counter and he said " Don't worry, when you reach there your school will help you extend it to a year". I was so confused, why would they give me a three month visa when I specified I was going to be schooling for a year??
When I came back home and showed it to my mum she was like " so is for this three month visa that you went through all of that stress".
Thank God I am through this, and I'm gonna enjoy all I can from this visa because I worked for it.
Hasta la vista.
Guess that is the same thing that happens with childbirth right? During labour, women go through the worst pain ever but when the baby is out and they are staring into their child's eyes all the past pain is forgotten.
Anyways this is no excuse, my sincerest apologies.
On to the story, I was called on my phone twice to report to the embassy. One of the most annoying things about this particular embassy is the fact that people queue outside the entry gate waiting for the guards to grant them entry. And, to make make matters worse the main entrance is adjacent to one of the busiest streets in Accra so all those who go through this visa process are likely to be stared at by passerby's, commercial cars and all sorts of people. It is embarassing! All I want is a student visa for a year not a resident permit...furthermore there is recession affecting most of the European countries. Why would I want to stay there??
Next, the door is opened up for you, there are routine security checks and you are ushered into a small hall (my livingroom is even bigger) where you join another queue. There one meets all manner of people. Some coming from small towns all over the country who have been waiting for their visas for ages, business women and young guys applying to schools outside.
I wonder why Africans like travelling out so much, if you tell me to go through this process again I would decline. I have applied for several visas but this particular process was very ANNOYING.
The worst part of it was when I went for the visa and opened my passport... I saw a three month visa!
So, as usual I asked a whole lot of questions to the guy behind the counter and he said " Don't worry, when you reach there your school will help you extend it to a year". I was so confused, why would they give me a three month visa when I specified I was going to be schooling for a year??
When I came back home and showed it to my mum she was like " so is for this three month visa that you went through all of that stress".
Thank God I am through this, and I'm gonna enjoy all I can from this visa because I worked for it.
Hasta la vista.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Visa Process 1
Sorry people for not posting for a while now. I have been soo busy from getting my visa to attending two evening classes; one on writing skills and the other on PR.
I am proud African and Ghanaian but at times I have regrets. An example of such a time is when I am applying for a visa. If you are a third world citizen and have ever applied for an international visa you would understand my sentiments. It can be compared to Darwin's survival of the fittest theory. In this case the prey was me trying to escape from the strange guards, the slow process and all the other formalities I had to go through.
I started my visa process in May! Can you imagine...I had to first get the requirement list which is eighteen items long.
I had to get a police report
I had to go for a medical report
Legalize my birth certificate in Ghana and Cote D'Ivoire ( Although I'm Ghanaian the Spanish embassy insisted that the document needed to be legalized in country of birth)
Send legalized birth certificate to Foreign Affairs.
Get letters from my University here and others from the University in Spain. etc
The process was tiring and I just got the visa last week. I had to call the embassy three times although they were pretty mad when I did. The third time was the charm, if I had not called I wouldn't have known my visa was ready.
P.S there will definitely be a part two (2). Stay tuned.
I am proud African and Ghanaian but at times I have regrets. An example of such a time is when I am applying for a visa. If you are a third world citizen and have ever applied for an international visa you would understand my sentiments. It can be compared to Darwin's survival of the fittest theory. In this case the prey was me trying to escape from the strange guards, the slow process and all the other formalities I had to go through.
I started my visa process in May! Can you imagine...I had to first get the requirement list which is eighteen items long.
I had to get a police report
I had to go for a medical report
Legalize my birth certificate in Ghana and Cote D'Ivoire ( Although I'm Ghanaian the Spanish embassy insisted that the document needed to be legalized in country of birth)
Send legalized birth certificate to Foreign Affairs.
Get letters from my University here and others from the University in Spain. etc
The process was tiring and I just got the visa last week. I had to call the embassy three times although they were pretty mad when I did. The third time was the charm, if I had not called I wouldn't have known my visa was ready.
P.S there will definitely be a part two (2). Stay tuned.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
And the Oscar for best funeral goes to....
Yesterday, Accra was clothed in red and black. I mean literally what I am writing; cars, shops, streetlights. humans and even some dogs were dressed in the attire. For those who are unaware to Ghanain customs, the colours red and black are worn to funerals especially if the person who passed away was perceived to be young or died unexpectedly. On the other hand, white and black is worn to funerals where the person died at an old age due to natural causes.
Well, in this case our Pres. Atta Mills though sick and who had been rumoured dead on countless occassions was honoured with a massive funeral service.
It was a three day event. On wednesday he was laid in state for public viewing and it continued till Friday. There were long snaking queues of people desperate to have a glance of their President.The lines spun from the Parliament building to The State house; where the mortal remains of our passed president was laid in state. The number of people there did not reduce during those three days. Whether it was morning,afternoon,or evening the crowds were still there.
Most tv stations had representatives lined all along the territory either conducting interviews or snapping photos of celebrities present. On friday the number of paparazzis covering the funeral service quadupled. All tv stations showed live footage of the president's burial service.
The burial sevice was gargantuan! In attendance were seventeen heads of state from Africa and elsewhere, even Hillary Clinton was present. The mortal remains were transported by horses, the navy,police,army were there to ensure security, there were doves that were released into the sky(umm dunno what for), the army gave twenty gunshot salutes and to crown it all three planes sprayed the country's flag colours.
My big brother said a funny but truthful statement as we watched the funeral service live on tv. He said "I knew Ghana would not dissapoint when it comes to funeral, we have done the best funeral ever. Even, Princess Diana's funeral does not come close to this" I burst out laughing, but on a more serious note what he said is so true. How much money did this funeral cost?
I am a proud Ghanaian. But. Ghanaian funeral rites and services are in my opinion our most wierdest custom. I do not understand why people dance,eat and look for potential marriage partners at funerals. I do not understand why we pay chief mourners to cry for the dead person. I do not understand why the whole funeral service takes several hours. I just do not comprehend.....
N.B here is an article written by the New York Times on Ghanain funerals.
These are articles on Atta Mills Funeral.
Well, in this case our Pres. Atta Mills though sick and who had been rumoured dead on countless occassions was honoured with a massive funeral service.
It was a three day event. On wednesday he was laid in state for public viewing and it continued till Friday. There were long snaking queues of people desperate to have a glance of their President.The lines spun from the Parliament building to The State house; where the mortal remains of our passed president was laid in state. The number of people there did not reduce during those three days. Whether it was morning,afternoon,or evening the crowds were still there.
Most tv stations had representatives lined all along the territory either conducting interviews or snapping photos of celebrities present. On friday the number of paparazzis covering the funeral service quadupled. All tv stations showed live footage of the president's burial service.
The burial sevice was gargantuan! In attendance were seventeen heads of state from Africa and elsewhere, even Hillary Clinton was present. The mortal remains were transported by horses, the navy,police,army were there to ensure security, there were doves that were released into the sky(umm dunno what for), the army gave twenty gunshot salutes and to crown it all three planes sprayed the country's flag colours.
My big brother said a funny but truthful statement as we watched the funeral service live on tv. He said "I knew Ghana would not dissapoint when it comes to funeral, we have done the best funeral ever. Even, Princess Diana's funeral does not come close to this" I burst out laughing, but on a more serious note what he said is so true. How much money did this funeral cost?
I am a proud Ghanaian. But. Ghanaian funeral rites and services are in my opinion our most wierdest custom. I do not understand why people dance,eat and look for potential marriage partners at funerals. I do not understand why we pay chief mourners to cry for the dead person. I do not understand why the whole funeral service takes several hours. I just do not comprehend.....
N.B here is an article written by the New York Times on Ghanain funerals.
These are articles on Atta Mills Funeral.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Why music is my religion.
Everyday I wake up from dreamland only for my eardrums to be assaulted by a cacophony of noises.
Birds chirping incessantly outside my window, my neighbours bickering about something trivial or someone shouting my name as if the whole world depended on my response to survive.
That is when I yearn to return to that place of serenity, where it is Me and my thoughts.
So, I put on my earphones and in a matter of seconds I am shut off from the world.
All becomes still,quiet and peaceful. Just as the earth was without form and void in the beginning of creation. Then I press the play button.
Immediately, I am ushered into a musical realm. And, it as if God pronounced those magical words "let there be music", and there was music.
But, the creative process does not end there. The sound begins subtly and rises up to a frenzy. It starts with two sticks hitting each other then a tin of foil which sets the tempo, guitar strings being strummed and a pair of piano keys being played. A symphony has begun.
I am transported to another world. I become oblivious to baby wails, police sirens, car honks, and all other deafening noises.
I close my eyes and wrap myself in that liquid love, that musical serenity. The melodious voices and pulsating rhythms drown all my worries and fears.
Then I become one with the music.
Birds chirping incessantly outside my window, my neighbours bickering about something trivial or someone shouting my name as if the whole world depended on my response to survive.
That is when I yearn to return to that place of serenity, where it is Me and my thoughts.
So, I put on my earphones and in a matter of seconds I am shut off from the world.
All becomes still,quiet and peaceful. Just as the earth was without form and void in the beginning of creation. Then I press the play button.
Immediately, I am ushered into a musical realm. And, it as if God pronounced those magical words "let there be music", and there was music.
But, the creative process does not end there. The sound begins subtly and rises up to a frenzy. It starts with two sticks hitting each other then a tin of foil which sets the tempo, guitar strings being strummed and a pair of piano keys being played. A symphony has begun.
I am transported to another world. I become oblivious to baby wails, police sirens, car honks, and all other deafening noises.
I close my eyes and wrap myself in that liquid love, that musical serenity. The melodious voices and pulsating rhythms drown all my worries and fears.
Then I become one with the music.
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