Allgemein Archives - Confessions of a Ghanaian Girl

Sweet

She wanted sweet too – just like the others.

For though everyone called her strong she knew she was only playing the part they wanted. She was not strong. Not even a bit of what they expected of her. For there were some who deserved to have it sweet and some, like her, with no sweetness.

She had once tried that sweetness too, tempted by the stories she had heard. In the secret of darkness where no one could see her. But it kept ringing in her head even when she tried it, that her place was between the rocks.

For she felt wrong while she lay there, doing nothing and letting the drips of honey fall on her tongue.

Sweet tasted sweet and that was it.

Maybe if she had stayed and drowned her mind‘s taunts in the sea, maybe just maybe she would have become what all who dripped in honey became. Sweet.

And now she is something between sour and bitter – for her tongue no longer remembers what sweet tastes like.

Yet she yearns for it. She dreams of it.

That someday she will not have to pretend. Not pretend to be strong but be strong because she is. And be sweet because she is.

The Future is Female!

The first time I saw this statement was on a T-Shirt. The words bit me. It sounds offensive, doesn’t it? What is this even meant to mean, I thought? I googled. I found varying opinions and reviews on this statement. So, what does this statement even mean?

Initially I assumed it meant simply the future belonged to females. Where would the men be then? What would happen to our men, our fathers, sons and brothers? Would they go extinct? What sort of a world would that be?

The first time “The future is female” statement was seen was in 1975 on a T-Shirt in the United States, during a period in the US noted as the second wave of feminism. It became more popular when Hillary Clinton used it as the title of her Book and when she run to be voted as the US President.

How is the future female?

I stand for women empowerment; but when I first saw that statement, I found it outrageous. Why so? I am female so if the future would be or belong to females it should make me happy shouldn’t it? As I later realised, the reason this statement made me uneasy was because the world often places one class as dominant (gender, race etc) over the other. So, what made it outrageous was the quick comparison to the male gender my mind made, thinking that empowering females meant a “de-powering” or “un-empowering” of males which is a totally wrong perspective to have as a feminist, I should confess.

Therefore, the assumption that once a woman is empowered somehow “un-powers” or displaces a man, is untrue. This might be the reason why in certain cultures or societies female empowerment is faced with strong opposition.

What if the statement was edited to be “if today is male, the future is female”? Does it make it more tolerable? If gender equality cannot be achieved today how about tomorrow? And if it will be achieved tomorrow, how will we get there?

Accepting the future as female.

I describe myself as one who believes that women are capable of making decisions about their bodies, should be enabled and empowered to be all they desire to be. I am one who believes that women should be allowed to be everything they want to be and even more.

But then there is society, there is religion and culture which often stands in the way of what a woman must be or permitted to do. And with time, as one with an interest in such issues, I have come to accept that what often impedes a woman’s empowerment is herself.

I think when women begin to limit themselves, hold back and avoid pursuing certain jobs or education because society decides who must take up what to whose benefit therein lies the greatest defeat to women empowerment. Using my life as an example, though I am currently in a field predominantly male, after high school I had a keen interest in Mechanics (mechanical engineering) and got an offer from the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology to study it. I however did not pursue it as I was informed of the low employment options for females in this area in Ghana.

Looking back, I question myself as to what other opportunities I have missed out on because it looked addressed to males or society felt it was not in my place to pursue them.

The biggest challenge to preparing for a future that is female in my opinion is believing in the voices of society, culture or family and starting to pursue less of oneself and believing that you are incapable. Therein lies the true threat to women empowerment. The fact that in another household a woman can be a medical practitioner and in another household another though equally capable, drops out of school because she accepts that a woman will no matter what end up in the kitchen is sad.

The future is female might seem impossible and perhaps only one for dreamers. But what if as outrageous as it sounds, the limitations to women to be Leaders, Entrepreneurs, mothers and function fully as professionals and receive Renumeration just as men can only be taken away if this statement is pursued today. If today belongs to the men tomorrow can be ours if we work on breaking down the varying barriers to women’s financial freedom, illiteracy and self believe.

Image Source: Edward Kimmel from Takoma Park, MD – Women’s March 0832

The tales of the traveller

(Inspired by Thomas Frimpong & Eric Agyeman’s song – Menenam Mu)

The tales of the traveller should only be told by those who have walked those paths. For those who have never taken those paths assume it is an easy feat.

A fairytale of sorts.

The dares of the life of the traveller are many – and before one knows it, the traveller has been catapulted to a place where the return home is treacherous.

The traveller will see what must not be seen. The traveller will sleep where one must not sleep. The traveller will hear what must not be heard. However, many are the lures that keep the traveller fixated on the path where return is another new dream. For whatever negative the traveller encounters, he will comfort himself, mostly with the brightness of a future, which is the better day to come.

The curse of the gold that needs to be returned to its home pushes the traveller further into many unthinkable feats. Before he knows it, the traveller is convinced return can only be possible with the cursed gold.

Though cursed, the gold must build a home – a home he may never live in but contented it sits empty, surrounded by grass. And that’s even a happy ending. With the gold, he must ensure no one is left behind. Even if he must sleep in hunger or on a bed that tires his bones. It must be done.

As the elders say, the bird that fails to fly will sleep in hunger. And thus, the traveller must keep gathering, even where food is farthest from their nest.

God I beg

Prayer stalwarts say that God answers prayers that are scripture based – we should avoid the blabber of words. That He prefers prayers that are consistent – thus we ought to keep knocking. And that midnights are the best times to seek God in prayer – we should beat sleep and stay up to pray.

However, there come certain days when the spirit indeed wills to pray – long consistent scripture based prayers in the quiet hours of the night, yet the flesh is weak. Sometimes, all we can manage are murmurs and whisperings, for elaborate wordings fail us.

On such days when we are torn apart and weary, and all we can manage are the one-sentence prayers:

“God I beg” or “God help me” or “God have mercy on me”

For on those days, our memories fail to reconcile with Bible verses. Our strength is feeble, our pain very real.

All we have on those days is the faith that we have a father above who hears us even when our words are whispers and one sentence prayers. Because we believe we have a father who wants us to call Him on the day of trouble – even when words are few – He will come to the rescue.

So until the days when long prayers enriched with Bible verses return, and flesh brought to a low , I will call anyhow and anyway I can to my father who hears, sees and feels me each day! For He will come through! This I am certain!

How to strike and conduct life changing and mind stimulating conversations with persons of migrant backgrounds.

Developed by the Immaculate Centre for Impeccable Migrant Studies

Approved and certified by the Institute of Quality International Communications (IQIC)

As much as we celebrate the worldwide success of these guidelines, we advise our users to approach these guidelines with utmost precision. Especially in Europe where migrants might prove difficult to engage with.

For the best use experience, we advise targeting migrants that are visually easy to identify, for example persons with darker skins tones, with too colourful clothing and or with hair textures on the extreme ends of curly and straight.

Begin with our guide and ask the questions we have developed with our stakeholders and tested on most streets in Europe. As our studies have shown, most migrants are very serious-minded persons and do not enjoy comical interactions nor humour filled conversations. Many of our users report that starting such conversations with a stern face is bound to bring the best of results.

Now to the guidelines:

First ask them where they migrated from because it really is the only way to strike a conversation with a migrant. It is the most important piece of information you need to establish, to possess and build on. How can you establish a bond with them if you have no idea of their national affiliation? (Hint) If it is obvious, they are from Africa, get straight to the point and ask which part of Africa they are from. Ask by what means they travelled, so far from their motherland and whether it was by the sea, through the desert, or by foot to reach these lands of their dreams.

Second, share with them all you know about migrants. tell them about every other migrant you know, have known and will know. For those experiences helps position you as one with the understanding for the things of migrants. In telling them this rich compilation of information, you are bound to discover all the common things you have with them. Because the experiences of one foreigner is really not far from another.

Third, remind them in conversation of how interesting their cultures are and how you believe in the authenticity of their culture. Affirm their culture by sharing the book you read, film you watched or restaurant you visited affiliated to their culture.

Fourth, slow speak. It has been proven that even when a human being does not understand a language and you slow speak it is bound to spark a particular part of their brain known for the ability to understand any language even those never heard before. This is a particular identified trait especially identified in the brain of migrants.

Fifth, now that many grounds have been established, ask them if they do not miss home or even better, to tell you more about how life was at home. For home is home. For everyone. There is a never dying unique fondness to the migrant’s home. Peer into the details. Ask about family and friends. Ask when they return home.

These five ways as seen and covered on international television with phenomenal results published in numerous international journals and now brought to you in these five easy steps are bound to dive you into transformative educational conversations and learnings with migrants.

Persons who have used these guidelines have reported tremendous one-sided conversations that have lingered on their minds for years.

How to choose a church

Looking for a church? I wrote this “sort of” how-to-guide, inspired because I moved to a new city and on the quest for a new church. Perhaps you are also in my situation, or you are new to Christ and Christianity, or simply need a new church, I hope this piece provides some helpful points for finding and choosing a church.

Over the past years, I have had to move to new cities a couple of times. My approach in the past often started with a Google search and making enquiries on social media or within social – circles. However, I believe finding a church requires some sitting down and reflection on our basis for finding a church. We need to ask and answer some key questions. This can be described as a pre-planning phase as well as a “getting to know self” stage.

Here are three questions I believe we need to set out time to reflect on and find the answers to.

Why do I go to church, or why should I go to church?

The Bible is clear in Hebrews 10:25 to not stop going to church. We are advised to always go to church so that we stay spurred on in our walk with Christ. Church is the place to be stirred up in love, faith, and joy and the place to stir up our gifts and all other good works (Hebrews 10:24).

Do not stop going to church meetings. Some people do stop. But help each other to be strong. You must do it all the more as you see the Great Day coming closer. Hebrews 10:25 (WE)

This question however is a personal one, like our relationship with Christ. It is necessary we ask ourselves why and find the answers. Maybe you have been on the church routine long enough and need to refresh those reasons. Some of us have been in church since we were babies. It was how we spent time together as a family, the only weekly family activity or event. For some, church was where we discovered us, our gifts, and what God had to say about us. For some, church was and has always been there. “I chose this church because it is the nearest to my home”, “A friend invited me to church, I liked it and I stayed”, “The church music was good”, “The pastor preaches such a sermon here”.

Yes, these are all great reasons to attend church, but why do we go to church? What convicts us to stay in church?

Because we are going to need that conviction when the friend leaves, when the music becomes bad, when the new pastor has no prophetic sermons and when everything tells us it is time to take a break or leave.

Another question, which may be helpful in finding answers to the above, would be finding out what you require from a church.

What do I need from a church?

Everyone has some needs that need to be met. They could be physical, financial, spiritual, etc. At some point, hopefully, when it comes to the church, our needs are in par with Christ. As a new believer, the need could be to learn more about the foundations of the faith. Other needs could be: to be loved and encouraged, to explore talents, to have a family, etc. Someone may join a church with the need for a job or livelihood. There are people who found their first jobs or business contracts in church. Someone may join with the need for spiritual growth. As unique as our relationships with God are, so are our needs when it comes to church. Finding the answers helps us to know if our needs are being met, and if not, ensure they are being met. It helps with the resolve to stay in and connected to church when we do not feel like it.

Hopefully, now we know why we go to church and what we require from the church. Another question, that might not cross our minds, is the expectations of the church. Church should be a two-way-relationship, where we receive from the church, and we give to the church as well.

What does the church need from me?

No church leader desires a rebellious congregation or a congregation that refuses to align with church goals. There are churches that are not eager to accept anyone as a member. They desire committed members who will dedicate themselves to the growth and wellbeing of the church. When we become members of a church, we are submitting to the church authority. We are submitting to its rules and doctrines. The church may need financial and time commitments as well as skills commitment. We need to be ready and consider this as well. Every church requires dedicated and consistent members. Is that something we can do or are willing to do? Considering factors such as location of the church, the make-up of the church, the stage (new or old) the church is in, what sacrifices would we need to make to help the church. Are we ready to partake in church events and go out of our comfort zones when the church’s needs are to be met?

Church does not belong to the church leadership. The church is us, and we all make up the body of Christ. As it is explained in 1 Corinthians 12, all parts are important. Those visible and those behind the scenes. As much it is significant for the visible to be hard-working, those behind the scenes are influential for making it all come together.

The final but the first thing to consider and the most significant part of this self-reflection is to pray. Pray. It is great to know why we go to church, what we need from church, and what we can offer to the church. However, God knows us best. Pray and put every request before God, including this quest for a church. We need to pray for a church that meets His desires for this glorious person He created us to be. That He directs us in finding a church where we will grow to know Him more and be all we are expected to be.

Grateful for the little things

In times such as these, when a lot is happening in and around us, it is a good thing to take 2 minutes out of your day to bring joy to your heart. To stir up hope in your heart and be grateful for what you have and have experienced thus far.

One of the ways I bring joy to my heart is to list the little things that neither cost me nor need my intervention to happen. Yet their occurrence brings or has brought joy many times to my heart.

What are some of the little things that bring joy to your heart and stirs up hope?

Here are my list of little things that make me happy:

The warmness of the morning or spring sun on my skin
The kindness of a stranger – when a stranger offers to help me or offers me their seat
My son laughing in his sleep at night
A hug and kiss from my son
A smile from my son
Seeing my son happy
Wearing my hair in an afro-puff
A heart-to-heart conversation with a friend
Singing with a friend or a group like in church
A clear night, lit with stars and the moon
The chirping of birds in the morning
The sound of children playing

I hope this list inspires you to think about the little things that makes you happy.

Take a few minutes, some paper or just your thoughts and try to see how many you come up with.

And see how your heart swells with joy.

That we all may be one

St. Louis senior high school commemorates 70 years of existence this year. This milestone stirs up varied emotions in many old girls. Buried experiences and life events that happened on the St. Louis campus come alive. Over the past weeks, my Alma matter has been a constant feature on my mind as well. Mostly due to the flood of photos on my Facebook timeline from old girls thrilled about this grand milestone.

The question I’ve asked myself repeatedly is “how did St. Louis contribute to my life”? I wanted to write a random Facebook post “The 7 things I am grateful for as an old girl of St. Louis” with the answers I found. Truth be told, I struggled to find those 7 points. 2022 also marks 20 years since I left Louis (but I am not that old.😉). One might argue that with two decades past, my memory may need a little more than rejuvenation. However, my struggle was that my challenges and bad experiences were easier to reach than the things of gratitude.

Nevertheless, on Saturday 19th February 2022, at the launch of the anniversary celebration, I came across a photo of an old girl, Sally with Father Nkrumah (a former priest of the school). This photo instantly located and opened every can of good experiences hidden in memory. Father Nkrumah was such a kind-hearted person and blunt with his opinions. He educated me during conversations on campus streets of the meaning and origin of my name “Nana Kesewaa” and did not forget to add the lessons of the origin of the Kwahu. He was always ready to impart knowledge, regardless of the location.

Now let me share some things, I am grateful for as an old student of St. Louis.

The educational infrastructure: As a science student, I was privileged to be in the best science class (Science B). Most importantly, I count it a blessing to have been in a school that had highly equipped labs where we could have practical sessions in Biology, Physics, and Chemistry. To experience everything we read come alive in our hands.

The amazing teachers: I cannot forget the phenomenal teachers we had. Mr. Addae Mununkum left me with a positive impression of his personality, my English literature teachers Maa Adongo and Maa Christi and how they imprinted the love for literature on my heart. Mr. Bawuah, for his patience in teaching Chemistry and his dry jokes in class. Maa Vero and another teacher whose name I fail to recall taught us life skills with such a heart of humour.

Skills & purpose development: I am grateful for the opportunities we were given to develop the necessary skills as well as our gifts in the many student clubs and sport groups. I enjoyed being in the drama group “Faith in Action” and also singing with the Sweet Melodians. Then as well, being part of the Green Earth organisation, evangelizing about the need to keep the earth green. The opportunities were incredibly vast, and key to developing our life purpose as well as positioning us as positive contributors to society.

Leadership Skills: I was privileged to be a prefect in my final year. This experience as a leader taught me a lot about myself and people, of course. It taught me to be respectful of others. How I became an assistant Compound Overseer is also a story for another day.

Community and Sisterhood: My favourite moments on campus were the morning assemblies each weekday before class, the protestant church services in the dining hall and entertainment nights on Saturdays. Those moments reflected the community nurtured by girls from different parts of the world brought together by a vision for wholesome girl education. This was highly reflective in the way we communicated with each other on campus. We formed bonds that moved beyond friendship into sisterhood and community.

The culture of hugs: What more can be said about Louis girls and the culture of hugs? I am grateful I learned this expression of love and friendship primarily in Louis. Hugs were the preferred and most common form of salutation on campus.

Responsibility: Each girl gets assigned some responsibility every term. It was expected of us to be diligent in our duties and contribute to the “running” of the school. Though I did not appreciate the areas I was assigned in my early years (toilets and bathrooms), I knew they had to be clean before I sat in the classroom each day. If it was not up to standard, I would be asked to do it again. At an early age we were taught how to deal with such tasks as well as manage time.

The amazing people: I think the greatest blessing of St. Louis was the people I was privileged to meet. The many personalities I got to learn from. Even at the age of 14, 15,16,17 some people so stood out in their personalities and focus on life. They were an inspiration to many by their kindness, calmness, intelligence, resilience, assertiveness and (not to cut the list short), boldness.

I strongly believe it was God’s will that I find myself in St. Louis, and that it nurtures me into who I am today. As we thank God for the existence of this school, I am grateful for the many experiences I made, the good and the bad and the wonderful people I met, students and teachers alike.

On this day, let us also remember the incredible souls such as Sheila Mensah and Alberta who are not with us to mark this day. God’s peace be with them.

A new light

“Marian!!”

A voice not accustomed to shouting was doing more than it was used to. Had I forgotten something in the bank? I wondered. Even then, the person was referring to me by my first name. I turned in the direction of the strained voice. The face of the tall dark masculine frame in the blue linen piece did not strike familiarity with the faces I knew.

“Marian, how are you doing?” he continued. His voice toned down now as the distance between us had immensely decreased.

I raised my eyebrows, hoping to show how lost I was in the situation.

“Am well, but do I know you from somewhere? I am sorry, but my memory fails me” I responded hoping not to sound rude.

The man, clean shaved, overshadowing me now, called my name again. Maybe hoping that this time it would bring back every memory I had lost of him.

My memory was slow even as I stared intensely in his face. It was slower than expected. The task seemed difficult. Poring over all the places and people I had met in my life, to put the face before me in a context. A familiar context that reflected the same joy the man standing before me expressed.

“Don’t you recognize me?” his voice low and reflecting disappointment.

“It’s me, Edward Boateng”

“Edward?” “Edward?” I questioned myself.

There are two Edwards I’ve known my life; one I had been with in Primary and Junior High School in Kintampo and the other from my former church in Nkawkaw. The one from Nkawkaw could not possibly have become darker and taller in the past two years since I saw him.

“Herrh Edward, Dancing ball, is that you?!!!” I shouted at the pleasant surprise.

A laughter grew out of the smile stamped on his face.

“The dancing ball!” I screamed again, jumping up to hug him. Drawing an audience from curious passers-by. We hugged each other; each soul filled with uncontainable laughter.

When we had drowned ourselves in hugs and laughter, he asked me what I was doing there and where I was off to.

“I came to the bank to make some cash deposits”

On days when I know I will be making cash deposits, for security reasons, I use public transport instead of my car I explained.

As the working day had ended, partly for him as well, he offered to take me home. He, however, had to drive to employees at a construction site to pay their weekly earnings.

Edward and I had lost contact with each other for over a decade after the BECE. We both left Kintampo to Accra immediately after the exams. Though I knew he was in Accra, I had no idea of how to get in touch with him. My social media search had neither yielded results, nor had my enquiry from friends. And so, I gave up on the quest.

In Kintampo, as we had been the children of employees of the Municipal office, we had lived close to each other. The bungalows’ children, we were called. There was hardly a day I did not see Edward. During the weekdays, if not at school, we would hang out with the other children in the area after school. On the weekends, we undertook mini adventures, making up all sorts of games, climbing all sorts of trees and chasing all sorts of tiny living things. On Sundays, we ended up in the same children’s service class. We had shared many meals together, some in my house, some in his or someone from the area.

The name “the dancing ball” was given to him by me, Ariana, and Shakina two other girl-friends, in our class. Edward loved to dance. He did not care the genre or place. Sometimes, when we were walking home from school, and we got somewhere with music on loudspeakers, he would immediately take to dancing.

Back then, he was so rotund, and constantly received the familiar insults from other children. “Your face like a balloon”, “Your cheeks like a balloon”, “Balloon”. He never flinched at those insults or fought back when he was abused. He mostly laughed it off. The girls and I thought calling him a ball was maybe better than a balloon. A dancing ball like the one from the discos.

Maybe he liked the name, we never did ask him. We gave it to him. Whenever, he would engage in such open acts of dance, we would cheer him on “the dancing ball, the dancing ball” clapping our hands in sync to our chants. He, having the time of his life, making those out of tune moves.

The man I sat by, who drove the white Nissan Navara, was nothing like the boy I had known and had been unable to recognize. His dark skin had an even tone. He looked healthy. Obviously, from the outward appearance, he was doing very well. According to the catch-up stories, he and his elder sister had set up a construction company as soon as he finished Senior High School. They had started by taking small contracts for building projects. Over the years, they had won a couple of major contracts, which had elevated them to a company with 30 employees.

My eyes sparkled as he shared their stories of resilience, growth, and faith. Edward, the boy who had once peed in his pants and was called to the front of the class for the act. I could hardly believe my eyes, nor my ears. All matured, grown and definitely did not look like a ball or balloon as we had nicknamed him.

After we left the construction site, he asked me to have dinner with him. As I had nothing else to do, I agreed. Sitting in the plush oriental decorated Chinese Peking restaurant, I was so captured by this new Edward, his openness, his laughter, by the person he had become and who I had known him to be. Though he had not been the most intelligent or best looking physically in school, those things had never stopped him from being who he had wanted to be. Looking back to those times on the streets, him dancing was an expression of himself telling the world he would do what he would, regardless of what the world thought of him.

I think I fell in love that evening, maybe the soothing ambience made it easier. I think Edward as well. After the main course, he held my hand and expressed how delighted he was to see me. He had been thinking a lot about me recently, wondering where I was. Of course, he found it weird it had taken such a long time for us to get back in contact.

We left the restaurant after three hours of hearty conversations and soul pleasing food. Dropping me off at my gate, he left me with a warm embrace. I left with a whiff of his wood inspired cologne. A pleasant smile stamped my face as I waved him goodbye, looking forward to future contact.

As I plumped into my couch that night, resting my tired body, I scrolled to my phone contacts and dialled Shakina.

“Shakina, guess who I saw today!” intentionally missing the necessary greetings required for phone calls.

Shakina and I had been able to stay connected over the years as we ended up in the same Senior High School.

The confused silence then her mutters interlaced with gurgles from her happy baby did not distract me.

I continued the conversation.

“Edward from our class!” I spat out.

“You mean pee-pee Edward?” Shakina blathered out.

“Oh, do you have to call him that” I questioned.

“Ah but you too you were calling him pee-pee Edward then what happened?” she answered.

“We were children then Shakina, those things are not necessary now, we are all adults now” I continued.

“You and who?” she replied in laughter!

I shared with her how the reunion had been, and everything Edward had been to me for the past hours. What I had seen as magical and sparkling failed to bring light to Shakina’s tone.

When I had exhausted myself and could not tolerate her teasing and the recall of old stories about Edward, I called it a day. We left the conversation, she, teasing me in squeaky laughter of falling in love. Unable to fathom Edward in a new light, to see who he was now.

The dark side of love

While pondering on the next topic for my weekly blogpost, the writing prompt “the dark side of love” became my next most likely choice. However, to write about the dark side of love has proven a challenging task. Is there anything like a dark side to love? It has been hard to draw a conclusion. Love, I believe, is defined by God. God is love. He chose to love us when we did not know Him and has committed to love each one of His creations, even if we do not love Him back. Love in itself has pure intent. It is not evil. It is neither filled with selfish intent nor misery. Love is selfless. It is then not what we indulge ourselves in (falling in love) and see in romantic films. Loving is tough, especially for us humans. For it never gives up and never loses hope. Love is a complex subject.

Anyhow, on Monday evening, my thoughts shifted to another topic. Scrolling over my Instagram, I came across the story of Cheslie Kryst, the 2019 Miss USA pageant, who died after jumping from her high-rise flat. I had no idea who she was and find it unfortunate that her death led me to her beautiful soul. The situation puzzled me as I scrolled through her Instagram page. I kept asking myself, but why? What was it that made her jump with an intent to end it all? But what was I expecting, signs and hints of her decision from her Instagram page? A help sign?

I do not know her and do not know her situation. I have been for the past days saddened by the loss. A great loss to the world. She was contributing so much of herself to others and her purpose. But her thoughts had succeeded in convincing her that her situation, whatever or whichever it was, the ultimate path to relief was death. Which is untrue.

Why did she not ask for help? If she could have, she would have. Considering especially how the subject of depression cannot be mentioned or discussed openly, especially among black folks. In my experience, when the subject of suicide comes up, it is said to be an act committed by fools. How can one feel comfortable to discuss such thoughts freely? We are also as a society very judgemental when it comes to the sharing of weaknesses, failures and mistakes, that one would rather deal silently alone with the torment.

There is nothing normal about a young person taking their lives. It is time we worked actively in making that non-acceptable. And stop the judging and passing of silly comments over such incidents of depression and suicide.

Everyone has a purpose in this life. Maybe it is to be a source of encouragement. Perhaps it is to sing or to dance to bring sooth to others. We are all worthy of our purposes, regardless of what teachers, family, or society has said. One of the toughest things above loving is to be “close” with someone, and yet they are unable to confide their weaknesses to you.

Thoughts are powerful. Thoughts drive actions. Our thoughts make us who we are. Our thoughts can drive us to purpose or destruction. Each thought has to be reviewed and placed in submission to Jesus.

When the thought says you are alone, you are not loved, you are a mistake, you are a failure.

Challenge them. They are lies.

God loves you. He expresses His love through people.

God made you according to Him. He calls you, His treasure.