Branding 101 Intro…

In the coming days, I will come your way with one of the most  cherished attributes of succeeding on one’s field.

I call it branding. Some see it as an added advantage. Others  see it as a requirement whereas others also see it as a competitive tool. Irrespective of ones purview , It stretches  beyond the number of years of operation to the very unique identity one has caved for him/herself or organization.

This series will focus on 3 thematic episodes of branding which are:

Personal branding – BRDN 101,

How to build a brand – BRDN 102

and

How to Sustain a brand BRDN 103.

All these will provide an insight on building and  sustaining a brand across time.

I personally believe also that it will  the bases for individuals to learn and update themselves with the rubrics of branding.

Enjoy soon…

The bitter bile to heal the Black wound – Piesie Godfred

The terminology ‘Shithole’ has all of a sudden gained global attention courtesy a ‘non-Shitholer.’ First of all, let’s walk through the lexical meaning of a ‘Shithole’. A googled meaning of the term is ‘an extremely dirty, shabby, or otherwise unpleasant place.’ If the meaning is anything to go by, then ‘shithole’ is such a huge derogatory statement to be used on a particular class of the Human race.

I’m not in any way going to justify Trump’s statement on Africans , people of colour and less developed nations of the world. Inasmuch as the victims of his statement would condemn and as well want him to apologize, let’s take a look at the angle from which he tagged Africans and the likes as ‘shitholes’ to know if the demanded apology is a necessary call on the ‘powerful’ president.

Before his journey to the White House, the then business tycoon (now president) of the United States, Donald Trump has made a lot of Controversial statements about the African continent and the Black race which has not gone so well with the African people. His recent comment in which he is believed to have referred to Africans as ‘shitholes’ seems to add more dirt to the skin of the African. Frankly speaking, President Trump has been blunt, Frank and straightforward when projecting the ills of the ‘Black Continent.’

Before we put his head on the chopping board, let we as Africans assess ourselves to know whether or not we deserve the ‘bitter-truths’ he has been spewing against us over the years.

Ghana like any other African nation is no different from what Trump calls a ‘Shithole.’ Foreign aid dependency is like a norm to us. In African, common sense that has been abused overtime has become a norm and whoever speaks against it is an Anti-African.
Won’t we be called a ‘shithole’ if we think higher education and quality healthcare is best provided abroad ?

Won’t we be called a ‘Shithole’ if we award contract to foreign agencies for our basic infrastructural developments to the detriment of our locally trained experts?

Why aren’t we shithole if we continually educate our people to become unemployed graduates and employees instead of entrepreneurs and innovators?

Now, assuming that Trump should apologize, that tag of a Sithole will not be far from our necks for obvious reasons.
If Trump should apologize,
By the next day, a ‘shithole’ will sell on the pavement waiting for a city guard (abaayei) to come and compel him/her to do the right thing.

By the next day, we will continue to think that everything African is the worst and the best comes from the west.

By the next day, politicians of ‘shithole’ nations will draft a budget and seek for fundings else than within.

It is kind of heartbreaking how the African leaders have over the years failed our generation and most likely the next. On the grounds of corruption, our leaders show little or no sign of patriotism and are very eager to sell the good fortunes and blessings of the African continent for nothing but a meager dollar. This coupled with other unkept acts has left a big scar on the dignity of the African and commands little respect for the entire continent.

Trump is not the first to pinpoint the woes of Africans to the face. PLO Lumumba has been talking about the tragedies of Africa for decades and we seem not to have paid heed to his plea.

Ask yourself why former president Jerry John Rawlings recently said ‘I wish I could rule again for at least a year.’ Maybe to clean up a heap of mess in the country yet again.

There are zillions of reasons for the ‘shithole’ comments from Trump. If Trump has a problem, then maybe we also have a problem. I once asked a very learned father of mine a question and his answer was enough to suspend my next question to him. I asked, ‘Dad, what’s the greatest problem of we Africans? ‘ After a deep breath, he calmly said, ‘Kwaku, our problem is, we don’t know our problem and that’s our problem. ”

Trump’s statement may be a good call to Africans to develop her own if we hate to be treated like people from unpleasant place. It’s about time Africans come together to realize development in unity. Our reputation outside has been indelibly soiled.

For as long as we don’t change the way we think, our selfishness and greed and even how we identify ourselves, we will continue to be seen as a ‘shithole’ in the lense of the powerful.

With the above being stated, I leave the conclusion to the rational Ghanaian and the victims of the ‘shithole’ comment across the globe to decipher whether or not Trump’s statement is justifiable and if indeed, an apology is necessary after all.

Glimpse of Tomorrow

The future is long buried in a casket of hope. Brought fourth by the passing turbulent winds of determination, dedication, commitments & sacrifices of today.

This brings the nakedness of  Success to the full glare of those who see beyond the focal length of the eye

Smiles of victory & triumphs in  tranquility ignite the passion to fasten our belts for more toils

Like a telephone pole, tomorrow stands atop of today, motionless like there is no parallax

I seek and yarn to be where I dream of

Until my good is better and my better best, I will only give up when I’m taking the apex in return.

_

Pain of Gain: The plight of a  Mother 

I remember: It was a cold midnight 

Cocks and hens never yearn to squawk or scramble 

Silence was felt without sight 

Darkness prevailed in the homogeneous neighborhood 

Dad on a mission to bread the family,

was far than to be reached 
Somebody help !

Mom is in pain  

Her water storage had been broken 

She sweats profusely in such a cold night 

Gnashed her teeth as never before and said

Human production is my bane 

You survive through pain 

Such a fruit of the game 

To the barren is a gain

 

She wished she had the strength to survive 

Deliver the unborn in her might 

Elderly women flooded the hurt 

Anxiously awaiting the birth of a newborn 

The screaming never ceased, but who is to be blamed for her plight? 

Mom, Dad or the unborn?  Nature is way too off the scene

Flashes of the moon made the clouds bright to be seen 

Mom needed space , had a little Granny’s around her in that production room 
Songs of congratulations were sung 

The father cock crowed to add to the chorus 

A newborn has been delivered to mother Earth 

Moms thirst were quenched 

Dad’s mission has been accomplished 

Time to enjoy the fruit if his labour 

His son wants to see the one who fathered him 
To mom, I could no longer use words on her 

She is a mother of creation 

With whom I would continue to seek refuge all my LIFE. 
 

      Forget-me-not

The definition of beauty and the certainty of a lustrous tomorrow took the lions share of my thinking until I met you.

 An accidental meeting under the Ceiba tree was enough to keep you in memory thence. Years passed by and we were gradually nearing the future – a tomorrow, we’ve always dreamt of. 
I thought I could go miles to the moon with you but the winds of bad omen blew our way, taking you away and unfortunately and keeping me astray. 
As a son on a native farmer, who am I to keep  you from the son of the great King? Domestic pressures were enough to present me as monster before your scorching eyes.
 They told me to keep away from your sensuous sight. They told you to be far from my melodious voice. 
I believe this might be the medicinal acrid to cure your descendants from the realms of incurable destitute. I wish I can stretch to keep up until tomorrow but from where I seated, this is the end of the tunnel- I better let you go. 
I may have  the face you wouldn’t want to see,  the voice you wouldn’t want to listen to and the name you wouldn’t want to mention at this point in your life but insofar as I get my name indelible and retentive on your mind, I might be the same person you wouldn’t want to forget.   

Lost in my homeland, found in the grave yard

The hearts of men were filled with ingratitude, disloyalty, uncompassionate and hatred.  My helpless body lies motionless with no sign of sympathy, empathy and compassion from people I have longed believed to be my own.

 
The fruitful life of a native peace keeper like I was was truncated by a concocted false identity. I was brought to my knees even when I was lying and begging for my life to be spared-without a meagre cup of mercy!  
I have been betrayed and disappointed by the same people I was protecting. It was in a broad daylight and white clouds were tinted with innocent blood- nobody’s but mine. I have been bitten by the one I was feeding. 

 From the ruins of my death and the shadows of eternity, I knew I would one day vanquish from the land of the living fighting for and protecting my country. Little did I know I would die like a fugitive, hardcore criminal and a high ranking victim of instant justice! “Who am I?” The natives of my land asked as bruises and sweats of cold blood covered by mortal remains.
 My identity was never respected by the people I have laboured to protect. The land of misfortune swallowed  my helpless remains. I have been treated like a lost citizen in rival city,  tasted injustice whilst seeking justice. 
To the great ancestors of my land – the Nation I have been protecting her people all my life, this is the sound of my voice from the land of the death re-echoing in the ears of the ungrateful living I was protecting. 
Nobody but my own rejected me. The justice I was seek threatened and triumphed over me. However, I am never going to rest until it is restored on my land. I have paid my dues to deserve the returns on it. 

Once a soldier, always a Soldier!!! Ahooo Ahoyaahh!!!