Title: Growing Up (an anthology of everyday experiences from everyday people)
Edited by: Leslie Akplah and Elikem Aflakpui
Year of Publication: 2016
Number of pages: 134
Publisher: Hetura Books
Reviewer: Nana Awere Damoah
I don’t remember how I got connected to Elikem Aflakpui and today is the first time I am properly meeting Kossi Akplah. But we first met on Facebook and our litera-friendships have evolved from there. Such encounters and subsequent transitions continue to reinforce my belief that the line between real and virtual world is quite thin, and it is drawn with dew.
It gives me immense pleasure to be part of this publication and honoured to be asked to review, launch and auction it. Actually, I prefer “commission” as a combined replacement for the three tasks I have been asked to undertake. Therefore, by the authority appropriated by a Sole Commissioner, I hereby rename myself as the Commissioner-General of the soon-to-be-commissioned book, Growing Up! Fortunately for us in this case, the project is fully completed and ready to us immediately!
In the past week, I have had to go to an end-of-year get together in Lagos (for Ghanaian professionals in Nigeria), travel down to Accra, attend an end-of-year literary event near Peduase where I did a book reading, prepare for and be on Springboard program on Joy FM, try to catch my breath, drive over 10 hours to my holy village, check on my mum and various relatives, counsel a few of my nephews, visit graves to pay final respects, and drive back yesterday from 7.30am till 8.30pm, on the way also visiting my aging Uncle who gave me some further nuggets to guide me through life. This narrative, I realised, is part of the steps on my growing-up staircase.
Poignant for me was that I did the greater part of the reading for this review in Wasa Akropong, a town and place where a significant portion of my growing up happened; from where I bring you warm greetings from Wofa Kapokyikyi.
What you have in Growing Up is a tapestry made of stories of many colours. The end product is a kaleidoscope of experiences, all relevant. And each of the stories in the book had a part of my story.
What hits the reader in the face like a mad man’s fart (to quote my friend Shakiru Akinyemi) is the dexterity of language. I like beautiful prose and Growing Up dishes them generously like jara.
“That one sentence was the final rough thrust that tore mercilessly through the hymen of my childhood and innocence and bloodied my purity of thought”, Kossi Akplah writes on page 5. It brought to mind the 16 Dec 2016 interview on Citi FM of Sammi Awuku, NPP Youth Organiser, by Richard Dela Sky. When Sammi expertly navigated the land mine that Dela has laid for him in respect to a provocative call by the NDC Chairman Portuphy to retaliate if attacked, by rather sounding calm and not matching fire to fire aka biegya as he had done a few days ago, Sammi said to Sky: “You are surprised eh? When I was a child, I spoke like a child”. The hymen of childhood had been broken.
Kenneth referred to growth as “a product brewed in the distillery of experiences” (page 7). Ah, such a tasty drink of apio-like writing. As an engineer, that imagery sticks and that tread of word-pictures, fresh and spicy home-made similies and metaphors run through the book.
Percy invites us with “Let’s Grow!” and warns that “growing up is not the same as growing old”, taking pains to distinguish between using age as a determinant in growing old and having a mental shift as a driver of growing up. Think of a shaft in the hand of a driver as he changes mental gears for growth. Not old but up.
The themes of fear and timidity are treated with candour by Ekuwa, who wrote these bitter-sweet words: “I was really timid and as regards my confidence, a pencil heel stiletto was even higher than my self esteem.” Now, pause a while and imagine that. You got the point, right? Ekuwa wrote about “mental warfare” as part of growing up and ended up with a nugget that my mentor Ace Ankomah has drummed into my coconut not a few times: “Gradually, I was able to overcome timidity and low self-esteem through conscious renewal and transformation of my mind – an antidote I stumbled upon in God’s Word. The point is you cannot have a positive life and a negative mind”. See the point again?
Doreen also spoke about dealing with her greatest fear. You know what? Fear immobilizes and that’s why the mental warfare as mentioned by Ekuwa is real. “Fear drives our behaviour,” Doreen writes, and then adds, as a lesson from growing up, “…I have come to know that fear isn’t real. It is a state of mind.”
From Elikem’s recollection of his father inviting him to responsibility, “to his table of grown ups”, through the call by Rhoda to us that “…the world is waiting patiently for you, but not forever” so don’t be late, admonishing “start it now, start it right!” and to “start where you stand”, right through to Roberta’s funny description of her petite stature looking “someone came and donated growth spurts and I was absent”, I was tickled and touched throughout the reading.
Mark says growing up is a must, but irrespective of the inevitable challenges and the twists and turns (in the words of Victor) on this “voyage called life” (title of chapter by Hubert), “just trust God, for He knows what He’s doing”, admonishes Ama, for “God dun’ play”. So true, LorettaAbby. Always remember the encouragement of Cecil that “you are awesome no matter what you think or what others say” but note that growing up also means taking responsibility. I agree with Namerl on this. In the end, “everyone grows and develops”, says Daniel, even if as A.A. indicated, some of us may dread the mocking dance called growing up. Akushika, your letter to your dad touched me and makes me miss the letter writing relationship I had with mine. Also reminded me of the young man who said at 18 that his parents knew nothing, and at 22, expressed amazement at how much they had learnt in 4 years! That’s what growing up does to you: it declutters your mind and descales your eyes. I call it the “dewaaning” process: w’ani bé ti waan!
In many ways, I met in this book my own mentor, like that of Dziwornu: “It was somewhere in 2004 when I first encountered him, Mr. Jude Kubiti. He was as plain as a new clean sheet of paper and innocent as a new born, yet his words, as calm as they might sound, were capable of waking the giant in you”.
In these sheets of paper called Growing Up, I found memoirs of potential mentors that have the potency of awakening giants in readers. Lessons and nuggets distilled from real life experiences. Actually, projects in progress. Which means that the writers themselves spoke to themselves. And when a writer or speaker seeks first to minister to herself, the impact on the third party is palpable.
And the lessons in the book will not be like your own shadow, deserting you when darkness approaches, as Patrick captures succinctly on page 75. These are lessons with the attribute of stick-to-you-ness.
Emmanuel Dei-Tumi wrote a book titled “What I wish I knew before the age of 20”. The contributors to this anthology are young and they shared lots I wished I knew before I was 20 years old. And that brings me to the only negative in this book: the absence of brief bios of the writers. That would have enriched the narratives even further. I know a few of them, and so could surmise that most of them are below 40. Many below 30. With only one contributor being 40, my own friend Kola whose piece is the last chapter, ending on a high note: of service to God and man, of legacy, of touching lives.
Yaw Nsarkoh wrote about how tragic it is that today we gauge the worth of a man only through the lens of material acquisition. A man’s impact on his generation is and should be much more.
Growing Up has made me grow up. I salute all the writers of his literary repast of delight.
Everyone has a story. Every story must be told. The telling, when done well, brings satiation to the reader. Growing Up is a collection of well-told relevant stories which delivers on the satiation index.
“Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.” Sir Francis Bacon
As a satirist, I couldn’t help reflecting on the surname of the writer I just quoted and the options he proposed as to how to process books. In any case, Growing Up falls in the last category: recommended for chewing and digestion. I wish you happy rumination!
On this note, it is with profound honour that I “commission” this literary edifice and declare Growing Up duly launched!
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By: Nana Awere Damoah