PS: this is not a Blog ad for the soft drink ‘Mountain Dew’. Now we’re not saying we wouldn’t market the drink (if you’re ready to pay we’ll advertise anything for you, even cannabis😉) but that is a story for another day.

The Blog team organizes in-house themed writing competitions, which we hope to expand to the general public this holiday season. This week’s theme happens to be ‘Mountain Dew’. Our top two entries were by the incredibly gifted Clinton Durueke and Miracle Eme of the Blog Team. First, we present Clinton’s perspective of the theme. Kindly join us again at exactly 4pm for Miracle’s original piece.


Where am I?

Lacking full consciousness and in the middle of nowhere, Kofi lacked the strength to answer his question, let alone move or open his eyes. But man, he could marry the aroma that filled the air at that moment. It reminded him of the beloved Ghanaian brand of Jollof rice, which the Nigerians on his Twitter timeline took pleasure in discrediting. Recently, one of them even stated that Ghana Jollof resembled a sacrifice to a certain Ifa priest. They would never understand.

The sacred ways seem gibberish to the uninitiated.

Having burst into a fit of laughter, Kofi’s nostrils picked up a sharp smell that could only be traced to…

Wo be ti piii
One corner one corner one corner

Eye payy

One corner one corner one corner

His eyes didn’t hesitate to come out of retirement. However, his head flew back down in shock, realizing that he was in the midst of leaves in what seemed to be…nowhere. A forest, maybe?

Soon, it became a question of whether to dwell on the pain or to check his phone or to retrace his steps on how in God’s earth he managed to wind up in a forest-like enclave.

A new threat arose when he felt foreign hands dig into his pocket. Kofi turned in shock, but all it revealed was another item on the list of bizzare occurrences for the day.

One Corner is your ringtone?” the ‘native doctor’ asked in the local Twi, laughing. He held Kofi’s Camon C9 upside down, putting in much effort to operate it.

“Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?” A confused Kofi spoke in English, agitated to the marrow. He tried to move, but it was then he realized that he was strapped to the stump, sacrificial-style.

“The process is almost complete.” This time, someone else spoke. And in English. The Vader behind the voice jolted enough fear through Kofi to prevent him from checking out the new entrant.

So I’ve got a sorcerer and his apprentice. Great.

Kofi was trying to make sense of his situation, but the dew on the leaves around him was not helping matters. He was allergic to sharp-smelling leaves. It wouldn’t have taken long before he began sneezing.

The sorcerer edged towards Kofi, and Kofi witnessed a figure more primal and menacing than his uncle Kwadwo. And the figure, he finallllly discovered, was not a man.

You young people feel you can pollute the land with your useless partying and music. You chose the wrong place.

Sorry ma.

Kofi knew better than to utter his sarcastic reply. “Please, Great one. I know I’ve desecrated the land, but please let me go. I swear, I won’t do it again.”

Too late.” Her reply was rasp and quick. “Our dues must be paid to the mountain god Aafo. Now, take off your jacket.

Man’s not hot.

Are you deaf? Take off your jacket!

I said man’s not hot.

It took a few more seconds before Kofi realised that the apprentice had already cut him lose. Apparently, he was too awestruck by the menacing Ghanaian version of Madea to notice. 

Nice boobs though.

Young man, its like you want to speed up your death, yes?” The apprentice asked. “Take it off.”

Man’s can never be hot.

In reality, Kofi was down to nothing. Lazily, with every bit of apprehension in him, he took off his beloved denim jacket. But it wasn’t until the apprentice started taking off his shoes that he remembered a special but absurd package.

Maami?” he called out humbly. The sorceress’ expression was blank. “I have an offering to make. Something to appease Aafo.”

What would that be?

Smiling, he reached for his bag on the floor and brought out his half-finished bottle of Mountain Dew, from the previous night’s party. “This is the exact drink people offer as propitiation. The bottle is different.”

And you think I’m stupid?” The sorceress boomed out. Kofi was shook. In that moment of silence, Kofi heard footsteps. The footsteps only served as lightning for the thunder to follow.

Gunshots. The police. Skrra papapa!

Invigorated, Kofi ran his right leg into the sorceress’ chin and rammed the bottle of Dew into the apprentice’s nutsack, sending him to the ground. He got his shoes back on, grabbed his bag and his phone and broke into a run. He edged himself in the direction of the sirens cum gunshots, pumping with adrenaline. He paused to check his phone for the previous call. But more surprises.

I’ve been here for four days! And Mum has been calling!

Blinded by his new resolve, Kofi didn’t know when he stepped into an expanse of air that ran down the valley to the creek below.

Written by Clinton Durueke

Published by Great Opara

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