How Michelle Obama's childhood mirrors that of my older siblings and I

Whiles we cannot claim to have the exact same story as others, life’s experiences irrespective of time and place can pretty much leave us with parallels that allow us see ourselves in the stories of others and others in our own stories, even when there is an (ocean) Atlantic to travel across.

Across the Atlantic, the United States of America is a country that is thrust in the face of the world. A country that made ‘double history’ in as many years. Obama a decade ago and right up, Mr. T, the Commander-In-Chief of Tweet forces. America wows the world with Mr. T as was same with Obama – wow inverse.

[The] inverse of ‘America in the face of the world,’ the world has to face America on a daily basis – perhaps because as the so-called leader of the Free World, they shove ‘emselves in the faces of the world constantly. That land, America.

America, is a whole new topic for another day but for now, back on our side of the Atlantic, along the Gulf of Guinea on the western coast, Ghana's Greater Accra Region, Accra New Town, a suburb of the capital, located in the Ayawaso East constituency.

[The] town where I spent my formative years and much of my teen days. It is undoubtedly very far from where years before, the stories of Michelle Obama and her big brother Craig Robinson unfolded on the famed Chicago South Side.

[The] side where the former First Lady’s parents went about raising their two children with huge amount of sacrifices to ensure their basketball-loving son and piano loving daughter will positively change America even if in a small way.

Having read Michelle’s no holds barred biography ‘Becoming,’ I cannot but relate her upbringing and relationship with her big brother to what I have with my three older siblings, way back and till date. My review proper of the book is still in writing....

I’d start with what I adjudge as her best quote about Craig, and as if keeping the best for the last, this was at the tail end of the book specifically in the acknowledgments, Page 433 of 438.

“And to my big brother, Craig. Where do I begin? You have been my protector since the day I was born. You have made me laugh more than any other person on this earth.

“You are the best brother a sister could ask for, a loving and caring son, husband, and father. Thank you for all the hours you spent with the team peeling back the layers of our childhood.

“Some of the my best memories of writing this book will be our time together, with Mom, sitting in the kitchen reliving so many old stories,” Michelle wrote.

She relates their follies over the years, the times they ganged up against parents cigarettes, the happy times growing up and sharing a room, uniting in Princeton and their only adult time fight – over a casket after their ‘simple’ daddy died.

I arrived – as in was born – with three older siblings around the house. Rayhann, Mariam and Fuleira. I have insisted I had to arrive before Fuleira to keep the gender order in place, she jumped the queue – may be the reason why she is uniquely left-handed.

I remained fourth and last born till, Sherif arrived and then Shariffa. That effectively makes six of us. The Shaban kids born to barber Abdur Rahim Shaban and HRH Hajia Fati Idriss.

Ok, so this is effectively a rant about my three older siblings. Rayhann, our leader; Mariam, our selfless impatient patient and Fuleira, our uniquely left-handed empress.

The four of us plus our late daddy.

Rayhann - Leaders' leader, gift of the Shaban's first computer

Ok, there is Mariam and Fuleira between Rayhann and me, gives a fair idea of the age difference. But here is a "big bro" as we refer to him, who comes to everyone's level in dealing with issues.

Long before he started taking family decisions - after our dad died in 2005, I must have been close to him, mom mocks me about how a young me, cried when Rayhann was leaving to secondary school  (high school) at the time St. Augustine's College in Cape Coast.

Daddy never bought a TV in his lifetime, our first TV was thanks to Uncle Mustapha. But Rayhann bought us our first desktop computer, I went to get it from Osu.

It was with it that we started learning typing - the infamous Mavis Beacon, playing Road Rush, reading Al-Alim Islamic software, listening to Islamic lectures and watching films also.

To wrap up, he's taken al the hard decisions since daddy left. He's paid the largest chunk of tertiary fees. He's built mom a house, with our small backing. Called Alhaji since a kid, he only got to perform hajj in 2018 - thanks to his Christian boss.

Mariam - impatient benevolent contributor, Ummul Issah

If you see Mariam, you have seen the Queen of "rushing and classic impatience." Over and above that, she is a great selfless person. Mariam would rather she suffers than any of us.

Mariam times back singlehandedly run the house in terms of feeding and upkeep. A trainee teacher at the time, she diverted all her allowance and classes fees to cater for us back home - she did.

But long before recent events, Mariam was a financial terrorist at least to me. At a time four of us schooled at Burma Camp - Mariam will sweet talk me to agree she keeps part of my chop money. There was a point even giving me my allocation, she won't.

It was only after she completed Kotoka and went to Mfantsiman Girls in Cape Coast that my financial coast got clear. She told us a story of Mansite teacher's breakfast  of "kooko and boafloat," later if we used the term, she gets angry.

And oh, legend has it that Mariam flatly refuses that I drink kooko - a local porridge - as a kid because I will sleep in the car on our way to school and that my head was too heavy - today, she wants her kids to drink kooko just so they'd sleep. God is good.

Fuleira - Our lovely leftie, Accra Girls morning hustles, mom of Mom

Fuleira, I have pitied since she was small till into her adult age. She suffered Hajia Fati’s "military drills," and as a mom, her boys continue to "drill" her - she'll say tweaaa, but I have said it.

Mom forced Fuleira to wash the dishes every morning before she could go to school even if it was just one pan. Mariam was in boarding school and Fuleira was the main target for household chores - Mom won't buck down on her position on dishes not even if Fuleira had exams or any pressing engagement.

Fuleira was our chief mathematician, I put her above Rayhann and Sherif. As for Mariam, I hate Maths but ayam better at it than her, most likely because she is impatient even with formulas. Sheriffa is equally bad at it.

Fuleira and controversy belong to different whatsapp groups. She splits money as was expected. Till date, Fuleira keeps money with admirable commitment and accounting.

My journalism project was typed in her home. A poor me couldn't afford to pay a typist. I walked to her home and used her husband's PC to painstakingly type the project and saved it on a floppy disk, that's right, on a floppy.

She has also adequately paid tertiary fees for me, Sherif and Sheriffa. She is our party queen. Fuleira knows what's up when it comes to chilling, that I give up to her.

Our first to buy a car and to learn to drive. That car has served the family in a thousand plus ways and continues so to do. She usurped my third spot but she's lived up to that spot.

Wrap up

Back to Michelle Obama and her brother Craig. She wrote about him: "Craig and I are not quite two years apart in age .... The two of us have always been tight, in part thanks to an unwavering and inexplicable allegiance he seemed to feel for his baby sister right from the start."

Well, I had three older siblings always looking out for me. Mariam always called me a fool and taught me to not cry over bullies back in the day. Rayhann taught me to never give anyone a fight over trivialities and Fuleira always shielded me every turn of the way - especially at Islamic school.

One day when I write a more detailed version of growing up, I'd expatiate on how these trio are everything a little brother could have dreamt of. Al hamdu lil Laah - All Praise Is Due To Allah.

17 Rabi'ul Awwal, 1440 = 24th December, 2018

[Review] 'Ghana Must Go': Railroading Taiye Selasi's emotional roller coaster

"Ghana Must Go," was one of two books I failed to read as planned in the year 2018. I was back to it with an unyielding plan to railroad through to the end.

Apparently, a reading friend like me had also failed to read same. When she found out in my review of Chinua Achebe's "No Longer At Ease," she asked what made the book difficult to complete.

Here was my paraphrased response to Ugandan Amelia Martha Nakitimbo: The sentence constructions were super complex. The adjectival load was concentrated and getting a grip on "who was who and where," was draining to say the least.

Having said that: I resolved that "Ghana Must Go," must go, if you like "must fall" - going by the popular refrain of South African protests in 2017/2018, "Zuma Must Fall, Fees Must Fall, Data Must Fall."

The book had proven to be an apartheid-era relic and I was in Mandela mode to see it fall. Good news is, it has since fallen and I have the pleasure of sharing the hustle and the parcel, a review.

July 2018: My copy with me at Addis Ababa Bole International Airport 

In October 2018, I read a weird book in "Africa Under the Prism," a collection of photos across five editions of the famed Lagos Photo Festival. November was to conquer "Ghana Must Go, " so that I could deal with Mrs. Obama’s "Becoming," in December.

The story - tells of a family of six; dad, mum and four kids - Gender balanced with a set of twins sandwiched by a big brother and little sister.

The past of both parents largely determines that present i.e. how they bring up their kids. In between it all, the kids have different emotional loads, each felt in a unique way by mother Folasade Savage but not exactly known to her.

Daddy, physician Kweku Sai, sets out to raise a family in the United States having escaped a rather torrid upbringing back in Accra. He loses his job unjustly, fights unsuccessfully whiles living a lie in front of family.

When truth finally outs, he abandons family, quits the States, returns home to reconstruct his life, dies. Folasade after years, opts to return to Ghana.

The death, becomes a rallying point around which a family long torn apart unites. Kids led by Olu, a doctor, jet into Ghana with different levels of emotional discontent - at daddy and mommy.

The last born, Sadie gets to hit out at mom, gets "healed," then one afternoon, the female twin, Taiwo, bares her heart out at the horror mom inadvertently dumped them [she and twinnie, Kehinde, a famed painter] at the time in their teens, into - with no bars hold, Taiwo told the story of Uncle Femi and Auntie Niké in Lagos.

So, some core points I gleaned over the 318 pages of fine, bold print.  
1 - The stories are so intertwined a reader must forever stay alert to survive the big picture.
2 - Taiye so easily drifts from a theme and builds link "roads" then returns to the highway.
3 - Between Boston, Ghana, Nigeria and London, one gets to feel African and diasporan.
4 - The big deal about death and funerals come to the fore - but the late Sai ends up cremated.
5 - Story underscores why the past must someway somehow be told, as it has a bearing on the now.
6 - It tells of a mother who wanted all things good for her kids but missed fine details at crucial times.

How I managed to complete it on second attempt: I divided the 318 by 25 days giving me approximately a dozen pages per day. Missed some days and ended up finishing on December 4, 2018.

Reading I have said before, is hard work that requires three main ingredients: discipline, discipline and a reading material - of course. Lol.

We're fixed on Michelle Obama’s "Becoming." With aim to double read, this month - a plan shared by Ms. Nakitimbo.

That said: The other book I failed to read "Fire and Fury," must fall by the first quarter of 2019 - God willing. We plan and Allah plans but HE is the best of planners. Let's keep reading pals. 

1st Rabius Thanii, 1440 = December 8, 2018.

Selase Kove-Seyram: Traveled Ghana to tell tomato story, Bill Gates noticed

Tomato is an important vegetable where I was born and where I have lived in the past three years. Where I was born, Accra [Ghana], where I now live, Pointe Noire [Republic of Congo].

Growing up, I was the only boy that my mom, Hajia Fati, used to drag along to market on Saturdays. I was towed to the Mallam Atta market for the week’s foodstuff purchases.

My role was simple; when all is bought, I had the ‘pleasure’ of carrying the load back home. Thanks to those sessions, I know the market like the back of my hand. Tomatoes and onions were two main ingredients that had on and off seasons.

Now to the tomatoes story as told by Selase Kove-Seyram. His article for the Gates Foundation title 'Ripe For Reinvention,' brings to the fore two things: how much we take the source of food for granted and the reality people live to ensure our next meal makes it into the pots and plates.

Bill Gates tweeted a link to the article with the description: "Selase Kove-Seyram traveled the route that tomatoes take from farm to table. Along the way, he learned how food — and untapped human potential — could hold the key to his country’s success."

Selase undertook a cross-country trip to the north, farthest north and onwards into Burkina Faso to tell the story of tomatoes – the characteristically red ‘globes’ that are present in almost every Ghanaian meal – name it.

From Accra through to Kumasi, on to Tamale, where Salase’s story telling started as per the article and then to Burkina Faso, the French-speaking neighbours who are feeding Ghana’s tomato appetite and whiles at it ‘failing’ our farmers.

Feeding Ghana as in, our local tomato needs cannot be fulfilled by farmers at home so we must as a matter of necessity bring in produce from Burkina at specific times of the year.

Local farmers miss out because their competitors across the border often have state support and guess what, trade queens believe those tomatoes are better than the homegrown – most times, so they told Selase.

Ghana as things stand now depend on three tomato sources, the locally produced, the imported and the tomato puree which according to records are largely brought in from Europe. Politicians will come and be gyrating over who collapsed Pawlugu – that’s all they ever do, innit?

But even as the politicians politicize, the tomato business continues unabated. There are women and men who believe if they turned their backs on the trade, it won’t augur well – so they soldier on in the name of profits despite hurdles.

In the markets up north, Selase spoke to a number of women, main name Mariama Nagumsi. Then there is the market queen in Accra, Victoria Amoah and her allies – sadly they love to vend tomatoes but no plans to let their “educated” kids do same.

The story teller he is and loves to be, Selase also spoke to farmers in the Upper East on the challenges that they face in the line of their work.

In the cozy offices where tomatoes and other ingredients are discussed, he interfaced with members of the International Food Policy Research Institute, IFPRI, who are key partners in his journeys to track tomatoes.

Now, let me wear my religious cap. Scriptures tell us about how God is master of the universe and controller of its affairs – the significant to the seemingly not. Man, MUST as a matter of necessity be grateful each passing day for life.

It’s not about having money to buy, it’s about it being available. Imagine if farmers produce as much as they need or they don’t sell for some reason, we’d be toast.

As diligent as the farmers and traders are to get us the red ‘globes’ supplied, we must all in our corners play diligent in service to others who depend on us. The world is a better place if we all play fair.

Who is Selase Kove-Seyram?

He is a storyteller and journalist, so says the article. But over and above that, he is a multimedia journalist. Ghana Institute of Journalism, Central University graduate, a diploma from an India Varsity and Masters from Columbia University.

He is Chief Executive Officer of a company that specializes in multimedia production. Selase loves his camera and puts huge effort in his work. Not exactly a perfectionist but one who has and insists on set standards.

He has written for top global news websites having started off at the New Crusading GUIDE newspaper. He is a top shot at Tiger Eye PI, where I worked for over half a decade.

Ok, his professional website will tell you more about him. And he is a very cool writer; writes very well. 

Rabi'ul Awwal 25, 1440 = December 3, 2018

Yes, justice for Khashoggi; but let's pray for him, family

Jamal Ahmad Khashoggi was until October 2, a citizen of Saudi who fled the kingdom for political and human rights reasons. Dead he may be, but the aftershocks has attracted all major news headlines in the month of October.

The late Khashoggi left behind a family in Saudi - so far we know of his two sons, Sahl and Salah. I have also read a striking piece by his daugthers. Also, outside the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, another affected party: his fiancee who accompanied him "to his death."

The calls for justice and the truth in his murder continues to grow with each passing day. These are indeed tough days for Saudi government whose inconsistent accounts since October 2 have all but made them liars.

From foreign allies - the United States, United Kingdom, France, Germany even the United Nations - asking Riyadh to come clean on the matter, press and human rights groups have weighed in.

On social media - Facebook and Twitter - people continue to clamour for truth, justice and punishment in the affair. All these calls are well grounded and with basis bilaa shaqq - no doubt.

This writer belongs to the school of thought that opts to stay clear of pointing accusing fingers at Mr. A or Mrs. B whiles praying Allah exposes those behind the callous killing of a Muslim.

But then again, as Muslims and knowing the power of supplication for the living and dead, this should be a time to remember the departed in our prayers. We owe it to ourselves, people who will some day, be of the dead to pray for those that have taken the lead.

And whiles at it, we must remember Jamal's family - nuclear and extended, in these prayers. Allah willed his end to be in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, there could not have been a contrary occurrence.

The justice calls are apt, we'd do ourselves and the Khashoggis justice if we remember them in prayers. May Allah have mercy on all our departed and on the living amongst us.

May the persons behind this vile death be exposed. May those working to uncover the truth be guided and may those seeking to avert the truth not succeed.

Rabi'ul Awwal 25, 1440 = December 3, 2018