Building Relationships We Can All Be Proud Of

Wednesday, 1 June 2016


My name is George Sebastian Abban. I write under the name PG Sebastian (Paa George Sebastian, with the Abban Omitted) I am a family man, and I cook, wash and clean. No, it does not make me feel emasculated. It makes me feel I am helping make my home a well-balanced home where chores and other domestic responsibilities are evenly distributed. Yes, I believe in the Godly family, but I also believe that when the Bible was being written, women were not officially sanctioned to work. No, let me put it well; we were then not in an age of consumerism so we could get by with the little we had. In this day and age, without going into the details, the many needs and realities that confront the modern family means that a working wife and mother is no more an unnecessary chore, but critical to the survival of the family. That, however, is a subject for another time.

Today, I want to share with you how I came to be me; the guy who cooks, who is interested in the family and who thinks we can do more to build relationships and marriages we can all be proud off. I was born in Anaji Estates in Takoradi, where I lived till 2006. I grew up in a family of four; My Dad, My mum and my sister, who is five years older.

My Dirty Laundry

By the time I was nine years old, I was washing my clothes. I was taller than my sister by then, and it came with its own rivalry. Mikelin was in Secondary school by then. Respect was thrown into the trash as we fought as often as we could find a reason to. So my Dad, James Mike, issued a decree that was not to be overturned in his lifetime. If he cannot respect those who wash his dirty clothes, then he will have to wash them himself. That was the last time anyone washed my clothes for me...unless I was sick. From my Handkerchief to my Suits, I do it all; I don't even know where a laundry is.

So While I was being taught the rudiments of respect, I was also being given a lifelong lesson. Some parents would have concentrated on negative and positive reinforcements to either discourage me from disrespecting Mikelin or encourage me to respect her. Reinforcements were used alright, but I was also made to learn that, when people serve you, the least you can do is to respect and show them appreciation. If you don’t, you risk losing their service over time. That lesson was learnt, but I also came to accept and relish the responsibility of taking charge of what I put on and how they look. I still wash my things and every single washable thing in my marital home till date (Calm down, It is a washing machine). It was a very simple measure, but it has paid off big time.

Madam Caro's Kitchen
When my sister went to Secondary school, I was left alone with my parents and at least two cousins who stayed with us at different times. They were always girls, either from my father's side or mother's side. My mum was your typical Caterer aside being a Head Teacher of a local elementary school. It was in the days of the Revolution; you needed more than one source of income. We had a small town bakery where Madam Caro’s legendary bread was baked. God bless My mum, Caroline. At every point in time, there was one pastry or the other going in and out of the Oven; from regular bread to cake to the more complicated ones like ‘Melting Moment’ – God only know what kind of pastry that was. It had the same mixture as a regular cake, except the flour was twice or more that of a standard cake mix. And you cover it with Breadcrumbs and press one peanut on top of it and bake it. Lord. That was heaven.

Anyway, I was a boy going into my teenage. I play hard and fight harder. In all truth, some fights were nastier than others. Those that got back to my mum got me a free ticket to be whipped. I told you she was a teacher, right? Canes were always available at home. ‘Madam wo ba no abo me ba no!’ To wit, ‘Madam, your child has beaten my child’ That was Kudjo Maame. My mum was ever ready to ensure that I was not rewarded.

However, as you may have known by now, in my house, you are not just punished for an offence and left to be; you were subjected to another form of corrective engagement that…well… growing up, I realised was the best for me. Typically, for the next three days after such misbehaviour, I would not be made to go out to play. So after school, it was my mum and me at home. The other ladies were doing one thing or the other. There was always something to be done in my house, gosh. My mum would look at me with 'those eyes' (ankikankye) a litany of instructions would follow: go light up the coal pot, clean up a sauce pan (the particular one described to me) and fetch water up to the median and put it on the fire. Go to the fridge and get tomatoes and pepper. I think we have onions on the shelf. No, we do not have some, I would say after going to check. Ok. Go and buy some from Naa Kokye’s mum. Go and look at the time and come and tell me what it is. I would go and look and come and report. It is 3:30. Ok, be back by 3:45 or don’t come back to the house at all, she would warn. So I have to shut my eyes to all the boys playing and the particular guy who is the cause of my doom and sprint to and fro. Before I know, dinner is ready and all my mum did was to sit and give instructions as to how to go about it. She is 71, and she's been sitting and giving instructions since 19 Kojo OO.

As a young boy who had countless reasons to fight; (from someone teasing me with my local name, being called dogo yaro because of my height to something as mundane as talking to my childhood Crush, Baaba), trust me, kitchen grounding was next to the air I breathe while growing up.  It was, however, not just about cooking; it was more about everything done in the house. I would be tasked to whip the butter and sugar so we bake a pound of cake two. Then we did not have an electric Cake mixer so it was all manual until a Moulinex Mixer showed up in the early 90s in my house. I would be tasked to wash and clean the lettuce and carrots so we fixed Salad. I would be tasked to pound dried fish and shrimps so we could do a homemade shito. Before I turned 20, I could cook almost every food I eat. I still cook, and I enjoy it.

Back then, it was not a pleasant experience, but then who was I to revolt? I was lucky she was not giving me head knocks three days after biting someone in a fight. I was lucky she had not gone to report me to my teacher for an all new season of beating. Please don’t even hint it. Just keep up appearance and stay in the kitchen already. After two or three days of pressure and tension, everything goes down, I gradually find my way out to play with my boys, 80% of whom I was older than, until Allan or Nana Kentinka provokes me…Then the cycle starts

These were the formative stages of my life, and until I turned 15 and went to Boarding school, I had no option than to learn it the best way it was offered me. Who do you expect to Iron for your father? Who do you expect to wash the car? Who do you expect to weed around? You are a fully grown teen who is fed and money spent on. You want additional expenses to be incurred in bringing in someone to come and weed, Sweep and iron? Not in my father’s house. And that man hardly spoke; so when you heard the expression, 'wo Papa ba na ebetse' to wit, you will see what will happen when your father comes. That is the Season finale of the punishment, and it is usually grand and dramatic. That can make you sick at ease.

There were times my mother would be busy with a few home issues, but we also had to be in Mrs Opoku’s bakery to mix the dough for the bread. That was the only Bread Mixer in the entire estate. So my mum would pack everything for me to go and queue. When it gets to my turn, and she is not in, I would be by-passed until I start muttering and insulting people in my head. But she always came, we did it together, and we would carry it home in a wheelbarrow. Boy, we loved that thing. You would see a bunch of kids all wanting to help me push. There was a catch to it all – Potosuaba. This was the smallest bit of the dough that was left after kneading the bread, cut and designed into a doll and baked for you, for all your troubles. God, the good old 80s.

That was how I developed the interest in cooking, and being gradually conditioned, I came to internalise it. From an early age, I came to appreciate that cooking is not a two minutes job, so standing on my feet to cook a proper meal for a day or the week is something I do without thinking about the time cost. The first time I prepared shito after completing secondary school was in 2011. When it was done, my Ga neighbour walked to my house, asked if I was the one preparing the shito. She took a bit of it to eat her food and returned for the entire jar. GHC100.00 gone down the drain. From Palava sauce to the craziest recipe online, if I can find the spices and the ingredients, I can give it a try. I just love the whole adrenalin rush that comes with preparing something new and taking a picture and posting it online.

Would you not want to raise your boy like that? And for that, I am eternally grateful to my parents. They raised a man who did not have to use a woman’s ability to wash, clean or cook as one of the key requirements in selecting a wife. And that makes me eat with gratitude any food my wife sets before me because I know the effort that goes into preparing a simple meal. We compete with recipes and always try something new when we are together. I was single for two years in between relationships before I met my wife and there was not a single moment, cleaning, eating and surviving as a guy made me desire to find a woman at all cost. Those things were sorted. So when a woman came into my life, she was most often caught off guard realising that the usual trick in getting the African man was just not working on me. And Yes, I can be difficult to please. They did a good job in raising a complete man and you can do the same too with your boy child.

The Palm Plantation and the Making of Red Oil.

We had a palm plantation in my father’s hometown in Ashiem, close to Sekondi (Now it is replaced with Teak). At least once in a month, the entire family would go there to check on what was happening. When we go, we would harvest the palm nuts that were ripe, sometimes sell them to BOPP, or bring them home, depending on the quantity. When we take them home, people come to buy some, and we would also use some for domestic cooking, usually Abenkwan (Palm nut soup). After a few days, the vast majority of the fruits would be in the state ready to be converted into Palm Oil. We had a huge Dadzesan (Cauldron) in which we boil the palm nuts. The following day, who do you think is made to pound them in the equally massive mortar? Me and my cousins and any boy in the hood willing to pound in exchange for a loaf of bread. Before you could say, Jack, it was done. We love bread any day. After that, together with my mum and sometimes my dad, usually in the evening, we would all go through the process of preparing the red oil; which is just like preparing a palm nut soup. That was before the cold extraction machines came. These were the days of the revolution, and you needed to do multiple things to manage your cash outlay. We hardly bought red oil on the open market, until Zomi took over and we once in a while use it at home.

Oh, and when we were done, we would be left with the Adwe (Palm Nut Kernel). They have two-fold importance; the shell is used for lighting up the oven since they can be quite combustible while the kernel or the nut in the shell is sold to the Zongo folks who prepare another kind of oil with it – Adwe Ngo. But before you can separate the shell from the kernel, you need a granite stone to crack the shell up. And ooh the occupational hazards. For most of the boys, when the thought of our colour TV came to mind, something they don't have, and their need to watch Akan drama in our house, they discovered that helping me crack the shells up was in their interest. Sometimes, it was more desperate than that; You are home from school, your mum is still hustling in the market, and you do not have food in your house except Mama Caro’s bread which I am willing to offer on the condition that you help me crack the shells up.  A cup of Blue Band margarine or two is enough for a day’s labour, and we can go and play happily thereafter. Oh and the football is mine, so if I am not done cracking the shells up, no one is playing. You should see the boys running to help. Mind you, there was a Cracking Machine for that kind of Job, but what was my use as a Primary school child? Always playing? Naah. You will do it. 

Fix It… If It Breaks We Will Save And Get A New One

That was my father’s mantra; allow the boy to fix it. So every new gadget that was acquired, I had to study the manual and fix them. This was in the 80s and the 90s. Manuals were Major League hefty. No Joke. But you needed to read the whole thing page to page before you attempted to operate anything. From regular electronic gadgets to more dangerous things like learning how to operate a Giant Gas Oven that could bake a large volume of bread at a goal. Oh yea…that was the ish. We ordered it from somewhere in Accra…. A place they said was called Sowutuom, and it took an entire day to Reach Takoradi. And people came from far and near to see Madam Caro’s Gas oven. All silvery….  freshly painted. I could just stare at the oven unending…. An End of the Swish Oven with all its logs and the hustle of getting the fire started whenever it rained heavily, and the water went to where we stored the logs.

I loved to paint. When We finally built our four bedroom house and moved in, I single handedly whitewashed it in three days. I strained myself and broke down after that so a painter was contracted to do the actual painting; something I found a lot of faults with. I was 20 years.
All these have made me a hands on person. I love to try my hands on everything before I bring in someone to look at it for me.

My Pigeons

In the late 80s and the early 90s, there was a craze in Takoradi about rearing pigeons. Most of the boys were rearing them. I remember the price of one was 800.00 Cedis, which is now about 8p or 2 cents. I went to ask my mum for money to buy some of the birds, and she came up with a deal. Sell my bread like others have been doing. For each quantity you sell, I will give you an extra loaf which becomes your commission. You can then buy your pigeons with the accumulated commission. I totally loved it. Saturday and Sunday morning, I will put some of the bread on a pan and hit the estate. I was tall for my age; I couldn’t balance the  pan well on my head. Lord, I was a sight to behold. People would call me and buy the bread just because of that. And those who cared, would come home to query my mum for doing that. She would tell them, I opted for it because I wanted the money. Between 7 and 10 am, I could go two rounds. In about two weeks I had two birds; a male and a female. From that time, every time I needed anything, I would sell bread and earn a commission, or I would sell the bread so that I would be in good books and they would do what I needed for me. It worked perfectly fine for me.

Growing up, I have learnt it is important that at a young age, children are made to understand that everything one wants in life must be earned. They may not have to sell bread or anything – that was during the PNDC era - but there is always something you can tell your child to do in exchange for they want so they appreciate the importance of duly earning everything they have. It gives them a sense of real ownership, responsibility in taking care of what they have and the existential awareness that if they are only willing to pay the price and roll up their sleeves to work, they can get everything they want. In other words, their wellbeing is directly in their hands, and it is a function of the work they are willing to do. They learn that in life, you can be equal to others, but what comes and goes, is not tied to the largesse and benevolence of anyone but your own effort. 

Someone may call all that child abuse… Haahahahha, such a big word for a Lazy Generation, don’t you think? Work the damn kid and he will grow up to be caring, supportive, all-rounder, responsive and responsible. The bible did not say to let the children ride; it says to train them up in the way they are to go….the path, the future and responsibilities and all that life will bring, so that when they are old and out of the home, they will not depart from the acquired virtue. No man will give to his wife what his parents did not teach him. No man will understand the import of becoming a particular man if they have no locus and premise upon which to build that ideal man. If you want a child to build an extensive vocabulary in English, you inundate him with books. If you want a child to be a Violin Maestro, you get him a violin and press him to learn.

If you want to raise a gentleman, do give him the tools needed to be one. Do not groom a woman to be a home woman, while your son is left on a free range to learn life on his own and later expect him to be the kind of man who understands his wife. How can he understand the woman, when he and the girl grew up on different sides of the home divide? How can he learn to treat a woman when it is enough for him to fight, walk on his sisters, disrespect them and still enjoy his privileges? How can he appreciate that helping with the house chores, is not emasculating, but a common sense approach to helping a family pull through the existential stress of modern day life? How can he be any different when all he had been told is one thing is considered girlish and the other boyish. Would he be any different from the familiar father who piles his ugly legs on the coffee table, reading newspapers and timing his wife on the length of time it would take to prepare dinner?

We need a new breed of gentlemen divorced from the mindset of yesteryears; men who are awake to the exigencies of modern family life. We need men who are willing and able to make a paradigm shift in the way they see the family, a woman's role in it and to accommodate the challenges that come with this social evolution in a way that absorbs the shocks that are a natural consequence of this evolution. We cannot create modern men with tools trapped in antiquity. We cannot build a future with rudiments that point to the past. It is like bringing a die-hard communist to head the Ministry of Economic Planning in a Capitalist country. The mindset will just not fit into the environment it is supposed to operate. There will be a fundamental dichotomy between thought patterns and the environment that thought is to be planted. 

This change of mindset, I am sorry to inform you, does not start after saying I DO; it starts when he says his first, daa daa daddy. (and they always say daddy first)  

PG Sebastian
Copyrights 2016

Wednesday, 11 May 2016


 The single most fertile ground for cheating in any relationship is when that relationship itself started with the two individuals cheating on their partners. That is when you cheated with your current partner when they were with someone else, or you were.

At the time of doing it, beyond all logic and reason, you may have felt it's the right thing to do.  You may have been in a relationship with someone and felt less loved, cared for, scared, falling for someone else; probably a moment blowing off of steam and all that. Then you wake up one day, and this one-off thing won't just stop [aarrgghhh God I can't think of anything but what happened last time]. One of you is drawn more into it and out of what you already have. So in the rush of the moment, like the blood that runs from your head to your lower parts and create all those deceptive feelings, you grab caution by the neck and yank it off the cliff into the bottomlessness below. You shout on top of your swollen lungs, 'Enough! Let's get this thing official!' Then you change buses, start a new relationship, drive a while till the thrill and the 'high' subsides.

At this point, you are facing reality squarely in the eyes. If he or she was faithful, would they sleep with someone behind their partner? All these tricks you all used so you could meet and have fun; could they be used on you? That is when you start looking over your shoulders when you hear your partner whisper... when they receive calls and talk in hush-hush voices [Lord the hush-hush voices... only if they were not hush hushing]. When you call them three times and they do not pick up but quickly call you back with inconsistent reasons for not picking your a tone which is highly inflammable. When you do not have access to their passwords and their answers to your questions are vague, generalized and evasive. 

Then... then... you start to panic... or they panic or both of you do. You start feeling helpless and frustrated. The events of the past few months and or year is playing out, but this time, you fear you are the victim. You get mad, and you start policing them. Or they get mad and start policing you. One of you gets upset for being policed; you feel trust is tampered with.

So you meet this other person who takes you at your word. With them you feel safe, loved, cared for; you fall for them, and you sleep with them. You cheat again. This could be happening to your partner, but somehow someway, one of you is bound to feel so insecure about nothing, maybe, that they only go out and do it. Some will even do it just to get even because they assume you are cheating and therefore act on that assumption. It could be true or just a nagging fear that won't simply go away, but the outcome is an action - another cheating. 

You do not want to start on that road my brother... my sister... you don't want to. Those who cheat with you will cheat on you. A just person will tell you to leave your partner and come for them if you claim to love them that much. If you are that just person, you would first end your current relationship with your partner before you go for someone else. 

When they insist that you guys start while they gradually end what is currently running, tell them that brand is finished, they should come tomorrow because this brand right here [you] is into men or women who are completely disentangled from all relationships. 

In case you are wondering what the moral of the story is, well I am sad to puncture your bubbles, but this is not a moral is a Karma Lesson

PG Sebastian

All Rights Reserved

Thursday, 21 April 2016


How can you say you care when you do not say or do things that show the care? I cannot imagine that care. I cannot assume you care. I need to hear it; see it. This is the query of the average man or woman to their romantic partner. 

Care is not Giver-Defined when it comes to romantic relationships (pre or post marital). Care is Receiver-Defined. You do not expect your partner to accept anything you give because in your mind it is evidence of your care. Surprise is good. Doing things out of the ordinary to spice up the relationship is lovely; but if you want to show the ultimate care, desire to do things that resonate with the specific needs of the person you are showing that care to. To someone, a car is evidence of your care, to another, a seed money to start a business is evidence of that care. Yet to another, always verbalising your love and commitment is the ultimate proof of your care. If you misapply these, you risk not pleasing any of them because their impression of care is inconsistent with what you are showing them.

I have listened to many people who are bitter and broken because their partners do not appreciate what they do for them. I have seen people who have been given everything anyone could dream of, yet are not happy in their homes. In both instances, you realise there are a lot of assumptions as to what the receiver needs or would appreciate. So a lot of resources are invested into things that give little or no utility to the one receiving them.

Last year, a friend wanted to throw a party for her husband on his birthday. She said the husband is not a party animal so she wanted to make it grand - make a statement. I asked for the budget. I tossed it round my head a while and asked her if there was anything the guy needed or had been dreaming of getting? Think think think. Anything. From a trip to Dubai to a trending gadget... think. Mac laptop! She said. The latest model. It's his screensaver on his current HP laptop. I asked her to get it for him. She has not stopped thanking me. It got her more than just an appreciation. For a guy who was desiring to switch to the Mac craze, tagging his wife as the one who got him his first Mac is a display of eternal gratitude to her.

That was a definite proof of care. For some of us, what we do, say, invest in, as far as our partners are concerned, reflect us; our biases, background and social experiences. Few of these things are viewed and executed through the preferences of our spouses, hence their lack of excitement in the end.

It is not about you. Let it be about them so that they can also say it is not about them but about you. Like football, be interested in tech and cars, be interested in politics.... be interested in him and his interpretation of the world around him. Know about the weaves, the wigs and the paints... oppps sorry that did not come out well.... I meant the make ups 😜. Know something about her. That is the only way you would understand and appreciate that the $600.00 hair job is seen as a better investment than some stupid Flat Screen TV.

Know what to say, know how to say what to say. Know her CYCLE and appreciate it so you can understand the periodic drama and the struggle. And it is real bro. It is. Know the workings of her mind, her temperament, socialisation and what influences her. You cannot appreciate or relate in a personal way with things that are not personal to you. Personalise her. Personalise him. Know his moods and his true motives so you can understand his actions. Know what matters to him so you don't play trial and error. He is not a mass of muscles, ego and flex; he is flesh and blood and everything human beyond the manliness.... just like you, sister... just like you.

And when In doubt.... ask them. Even better, be interested in your partner.

PG Sebastian 
Copyrights 2016

Monday, 18 April 2016


Last Wednesday, while on some rounds in town, I rushed into one of the high-end shops in the Airport City enclave to get myself some ground coffee. I got two brands for about GHC80.00 ($20.00). One was a breakfast blend medium roast ground gourmet Arabica coffee; It was made in the US. The other was an Espresso ground Arabica coffee. It was packaged in Belgium. The opportunity cost of choosing the Belgian packaged Espresso was the Italian brand I had to let go. I was familiar with that so I decided to try something else.
I got to the office past 12 noon and straight away decided to try the American brand. Since I was not sure of what to expect regarding it, I wanted to try it first. For the Espresso, I was sure it was going to be a killer so I was saving it for the morning of the next day. The American brand, however, got me smiling with its exquisite taste and thick lingering aroma that would have made the Manager of the Starbucks place around Loughmiller’s Pub and Eatery in Indianapolis turn red with embarrassment. Such a rejuvenating aroma.
So it was with much excitement that I entered the office the next morning, got my coffee maker ready and got to work personally brewing my Espresso. One thing that caught my attention was that the package was cheaper than I may have noticed while picking it up. I guess I was in a rush. The spurt of aroma that met me when I opened it did not give me the brrrr feeling. I knew something was wrong with this particular brand. Soon the wheels of the brewery were turning and a sweet looking, dark coffee was dripping. I swallowed….and swallowed, holding my cup, waiting to have the first sip. The first sip I finally had, and all my instinct told me to revert to 1999; my pre-born again era and swear and cuss with all the expletives and profanity I could muster. But then, I was in the office and I have a lot of self-control, So all I did (I won’t lie) was to say, ‘damn; this bloody thing tastes like crap!’ (And you would appreciate the energy it took for me to be this civil before God and man. Worse things were running through my head). I sipped again… and again. My mood was fast deteriorating; it was like a pack of fish stuck in a fridge with ran-out ECG Credit for 4 days. That was how stinking my mood was becoming.
But on such a beautiful day, I was not willing to let some cheap coffee spoil my mood. So what do you think I did? I carried the whole thing and went to the kitchen and emptied it. I came back and fixed me the Breakfast Blend Ground Gourmet Arabica Coffee. I felt an aesthetic rejuvenation surge through my being like Elijah by the valley of the dry bones. I felt alive. With that life came a lesson I want to share.
The Espresso was supposed to be the Jewel in the crown of my collection of coffee in the office. This particular brand, however, turned out to be the nastiest. So what did I do when I found out? I disposed of it. I love my peace and happiness too much to let anything I will not die without, take them away from me. This cost me something, and looking at the price, I could have made allowance for it. Yet the question is, expensive compared to what?
Come with me to the Relationship Boulevard. Let’s see if we can talk about love for a second.

What Do I Do If He Is Not What I Thought He Was?
Have you ever had that moment in life when of all the people who come your way, there is a particular one you put so much premium on? There is always this particular individual who becomes like the ideal experience you have so much desired and wanted, that they become your obsession; your high and the touch that stimulates your entire being. So you gladly accept to date them; either by proposing or accepting their proposal. Then soon after the relationship starts, Yawa don gas – If I can borrow that expression from my Naija friend, Doyin.
What do you do? This is a woman you have directly or indirectly insulted your other lady friends with, you have thrown everything away just to be with her. To you, this is it; the journey ends here. To you, nothing matters again, whether it is what you perceive she is bringing to the table or whatever mess she is coming to clean up. But you find her fitting seamlessly in your superlative expectations. This is a man you have thrown everything out of the window to be with, burnt your certificates and caught bullets for, crossed the Niagara falls to put a smile on his face and shoved your grandma off the Eiffel tower just to be with.
Then you realise he is just Espresso by name; Just the name…he is nothing like the real deal. The name has no bearing on the content; the Real Espresso. He is nothing compared to the real deal you were excited about considering the sacrifices you have made, willing to make and are currently waist deep in making. You realise he tastes like (for lack of a better word) crap! He's just one fat fake product beautifully camouflaged in an enchanting façade. You find yourself shocked to the core; you feel this humongous disequilibrium fingering your heart and threatening, with each touch, to rent it up in shreds.
But what do you do? Really, what do you do? That, for me, is the crux of the matter. To someone else that is a good coffee right there. To another person, that is a good amount of money you cannot throw away, so they would manage. To another person, there is nothing wrong with it…because probably, they do not even know what a good cup of coffee tastes like. But what do you do? You know what you want. You know the standards you have set for yourself and the place you want to get to in life. You know who and what you want to take along and who and what you effectively want to keep outside of the barbed wires. You know where you have come from; your background and its attending socialisation and the existential realities that confront your current and expected future experiences.  You know you and what makes you tick, what makes you cranky and, like me, what makes you deteriorate emotionally.
What do you do? Many people play the ostrich with it, burying their heads and pretending nothing is wrong. They play it safe so they do not rock the boat, all the while grimacing with each sip. What do you do when a guy does not match up? What do you do when the lady is way down there on your scale of expectations? Oh no one is perfect. Fine, so why cry or complain when they give you a bit of who they truly are? Why run to church to pray? Why cry at midnight? why complain of the pain when at this point of dating you should be happy? You said no one is perfect; baby girl, just shut up and deal with the imperfection then. Why rave and rant about it?  

The No One Is Perfect Myth
No one is perfect is a good philosophy just that it does not fit into the dating period. When you end up in marriage and traits you did not know existed or noticed during the dating period come up, then you can say well for better, for worse means I am stuck in this so I will handle their imperfection. That is when No One Is perfect has a meaning. Amazingly, people who sing ‘no one is perfect’ for 4 years in terrible abusive relationships are the ones who run to the divorce bureau, 18 months into their marriage. Such irony.
Oh when we get to the bridge we'll cross it, let us give each other time. I know you are a born again Christian and you want to follow Christ and all. Good luck on this expedition. Have you also considered the possibility that, it could be Christ who revealed these traits to you at this stage so you do not walk a long distance to a bridgeless river you cannot cross under any circumstance? Has it crossed your mind, that God in his infinite mercies, knowing what you can handle and cannot handle, has decided to let these traits come up so you do not get to the next level of the relationship? Do you know how many people will pay anything to have a glimpse into the future? Do you know how shocked people get when they date Angels only to wake up with demons the day after the wedding? You are blessed to see the wolf for what it is and you are here calling it a kitten? Two months into the birthing of the relationship and the guy is barking! The lady is roaring! That, I can tell you, does not sound like Meow to me sister… it is does not. Bro, don’t make excuses.

Is this the kind of relationship you want? Is this the kind of Marriage you desire? Yes, not all relationships lead to marriage. True, but is this how you want to treat your heart? Pile up all these emotional dirt on it? Do you think you can wash the scars off with Parazone when this one fails? You think you can sand paper it off? These things leave deep scars that you carry into your next relationship with terrible ramifications. Do not hurt yourself and make another man or woman pay for it; do not let another man and woman endure such hideous scars. Love me Love my dog; Bae, how about not intentionally rearing these dogs? See? Simple la!

Is It Ok To Keep Changing Till I Get What I Want?
PG, But you cannot keep changing people all over the place. It does not speak well of you. People will negatively judge you. Whoa Whoa Whoa! I am sipping my coffee and asking, ‘who are the people?’ I can’t see them. The people who will judge you regardless of what you do? Forgeti Obiaa! Forget people and protect your heart. It is your taste and your comfort, and if it is not made to specs, throw it away. Break a 1,000 relationships so you can have good marriage, than to keep one abusive relationship and end up divorced.
The reason why many people hurt themselves is because they hold on for far too long when they should be disengaging. At the beginning of every relationship is the time the man or woman in your life is to give you their best performance. It is the time they need to convince you that choosing them over the lot is the best decision to make. If it starts on a wrong footing, know it is most likely going to be like that throughout. Have you heard of a clinical trial that went terribly bad in a lab and, without correction, went on to become the magic cure commercially? Your relationship is the lab version of your marriage, and if the experiment is killing the rats and those who offer themselves for trial, it is not good to make it public. The point I am making is that, if it is killing you at the relationship level, do not take it to the next level - marriage.
I  agree some people start on the wrong footing and  they change; that is true, except there are no guarantees. And in a time where people have become calculatedly selfish than ever, most people do not care what you think and feel; they will do what they want and gag you with the hideous phrase - DON'T JUDGE (Gosh I hate that phrase). In the end, after complaining and hurting for months and probably years, you do what you should have done a month into the relationship - leave. Total waste of time and precious resources… and those of you who are into sex, unnecessary Mileage!  
Let me say this; no one is perfect in its truest sense is a fair thought. You cannot get a perfect human for yourself, and you cannot leave every relationship based on petty mistakes. When I tell you not to follow that cliche, what I mean is to know what you can handle and what you cannot. If you accept anything because you think no one is perfect, you will hurt yourself. If you measure yourself well, you will know what is acceptable and what is not and it is within this framework that you can operate.

When Sex Is In The Equation
Why bother about what people will say if you are not sleeping with these people you are sizing up? Yes, sex makes it difficult. It distorts the equation and makes it kinda hard to just pick your stuff and walk out. In fact, sex is one nasty variable that can influence the decision you make at these early stages in any relationship. Get someone to give you a good one and they can make you burn your educational certificate on your way to Colorado and back! If you want to make a near perfect choice in a partner, send sex to the back of the hall and enjoy the movie quietly. But put her next to you and the next thing you would know is 'The End' and the cast rolling up….And for what? Precious GHC30.00 and 1.45minute of your resources? Naah. Make that moment count. You need to concentrate and have an objective mind to make a good choice.

The Opportunity Cost Of A Bad Relationship

Have I told you about the opportunity cost of being in a bad relationship? Well… it is a good relationship you cannot have. So every day you spend with the wrong person hoping things will work out, it is the good people who are being taken; the cool guy in your office you always go to cry on. That young man you know loves you to bits, but you are locked up elsewhere. That neighbour, that church member, that guy you met in Europe when you went on that business trip. Every time a bad relationship is allowed to thrive, a potentially good relationship is aborted.
The mark on the shoes says size 8, you do size 10; walk on. The perfume is strong, you have problem with strong scents; walk on. That lady…that guy…they are everything you know you do not need, forget the brand and the package and walk on. Do not walk in pain because you want to wear that shoe at all cost. Do not go around with this perpetual cold, sneezing all over the place because, against all reason and caution, you want to wear that perfume. Do not, for some weird silly mindset, try to keep a nasty piece of coffee…. because of what? Money? Or the name Espresso? Alas! It is not even Espresso!!!!
Many people are clinging on to men and women they need to let go because of their package; their looks, names, family background, connections, social standing, job and all you can think about. They hold on to them even when the content tastes like a piece of crap! Let go and brew yourself a better one and let’s have this conversation next month….

PG Sebastian
Copyrights 2016

Monday, 14 March 2016


The Rains are here with us again. 2 hours and 35 minutes in traffic for me this morning and I can tell you it is not the most exciting way to start a week. But well, when Mother Nature quivers, all we can do is to take measures to minimise our losses. So while in the thicket of the deluge, I thought up a few tips we can all use to keep safe during this season. These are tips I have used over the years driving on the motorway and in the inner city. I hope they work for you. This article is for road users in the major cities in Ghana…. But I believe some of you in other African countries can work with it, contingent on your peculiar traffic regulations.

1. If you are caught up in a heavy downpour while on the road, turn on your headlamps and your hazard lights. The blinking light will help other road users see you as a potentially distressed driver, making it easier for them to make allowances for you.

2. Keep a safe distance between your vehicle and the vehicle in front of you. When the tarmac becomes wet, it gets slippery and your tyre's grip on the road reduces, making braking distances longer and skidding easier.

3. When driving by another car, honk at least twice. Do this whether you are over taking or driving in your separate lanes. The reason is that, due to poor visibility, the car you are overtaking or driving next to, may also want to change lanes and may not see you in time or react quickly enough, leading to a side by side bump or graze. When you honk, you prompt them to watch before they potentially switch. 

4. Use only familiar routes. This will save you from running into ditches, opened culverts, uncompleted road works and a collection of potentially dangerous debris (like broken bottles and spiky scrap metals) all of which may be covered by running water. 

5. Avoid driving at the fringes of the road towards the shoulders; this will save you from running into an uncovered gutter or culvert. Try your best to keep to the centre of the road but at the same time being in your lane.

6. Unless you must absolutely get unto the road, stay home or in the office or find a safe place to park, if your car's Air conditioner is not working. When it rains, the temperature outside drops, and in the short term, the temperature in the car stays high, causing the windows and the windscreen to have a steamy feel. This will affect visibility and distract you as you try to drive and at the same time clear the windscreen with your duster. This can be potentially dangerous to you and other road users. In a heavy downpour, you can actually glide off your lane without realising it. 

7. Avoid aquaplaning. This is when you drive at a good speed through a collection of water in a section of the road. When you do that, your car literally flies over the water. Without a direct contact between the tarmac and your tyres, braking and steering becomes almost impossible. This easily leads to skidding and bump-ins. You also stand the chance of splashing a good deal of water unto pedestrians standing by the road side....or worse into someone's car with windows slightly opened to allow ventilation...due to malfunctioning AC.

8. Be sure your car is rain friendly and can make it home when it drives through the rains. For some reasons, some cars decide to embarrass their owners, or suffer their 'illness' when you drive them in the ticket of a bad rain-induced traffic. It just decides to sit in the middle of the road and goes to sleep. You distract traffic, and increase the potential for bump-in and grazing as people try to move away from the lane you have blocked. If it is sick, wait for the rains or the traffic to clear before you hit the road with it. 

9. Keep your eyes on the road, drive slowly and observe all road traffic regulations. 

10. Be considerate to other road users and avoid the strict implementation of the right-of-way policy. I know; you want to be law abiding citizen for once in your driving life. Easy bruv, it is raining. Better still, let everyone stay in their lane, and avoid the epileptic switching of lanes. It is Just traffic not a mad rush to Heaven's gate. Relax, you will get home soon and safely be with your wonderful family…hopefully….without a dent. 

Keep safe, share this article and let us help each other during this period. 

PG Sebastian
Copyrights 2016.