dkoseiyaw.com interviews ceo of gaari for tor ventures (gv) about the impact of abenkwan in the speed of light

dkoseiyaw.com: what situation would you say that gv set out to see it turn around when they organized abenkwan in the speed of light?

ceo of gaari for tor ventures(gv): well the project was a response to the question, - who is documenting the evolution of african traditions and cultures within all these modern day contexts that surround us today?

and it was nice to pit fufu making against the metropolitan traffic light so that we can help society perceive their own traditions and cultures in the context of the speed of globalization.

dkoseiyaw.com: what are some of the achievements of the project?

ceo of gaari for tor ventures(gv): i mean abenkwan in the speed of light was one of the few sterling projects to creatively use the drone in a social art venture before it had even gained any such a reputation. ace photographer steve ababio was at the controllers and brought to the project great passion and artistry.

one of the unique accomplishments of the project was that it was held within the community, far from the conventional galleries that many artists knew and used at that time

there was great jubilation here at the offices of gaari for tor ventures(gv) after the great success of the project and even years on when dresden native constanza nowak contacted our agents in accra from berlin to collaborate with one of our performance artists.

i mean our production team and crew were assigned a wonderful traffic warden who played a very important role to making sure that we were not getting in the way of the law.

dkoseiyaw.com: another amazing thing we know about the project is the fact that its main activity took place at a famous traffic light post at kwame nkrumah circle, right off the front of the vodafone head office at, ‘circle’ – before the demolition and construction of the 74 million-euros-three-tier kwame nkrumah interchange, funded by brazil to help decongest, ‘circle’ of vehicular and human traffic.

ceo of gaari for tor ventures(gv): yes of course, and one thing is the kwame nkrumah circle alone handles more than 84,000 vehicles from the arterial roads and their intersections.

our cameras took amazing pictures before that whole area was completely demolished and they are preserved at gaari for tor ventures(gv).   

well technically the project started on october 28, 2013 and just about some 11 months later, abenkwan in the speed of light was organized on august 19, 2014.

dkoseiyaw.com: can you tell us more about the gv production team?

ceo of gaari for tor ventures(gv): we had great artists on the gv production team. jordi owusu is a very talented ghanaian filmmaker who has done works worldwide. he has worked in south africa and in the philippines. his frames speak with light and they sound so brightly. he is skilled with the use of lenses and captivates with his wide angle shots.

i have already mentioned ace photographer steve ababio yet permit me to throw more light on his work.

photographer steve ababio comes on board with a lot of experience and most importantly with knowledge and understanding in a wide variety of areas in photography, not only as an art form but also for creative enterprising.

plus he is also up to date with the social environment of photographers worldwide advancing the art form of photography.

steve ababio was truly a blessing

ford1’s active lenses as a photographer in church see over 3 thousand people go in front of it every week.

ford1 is the kind of photographer who can freeze time and arrest the aperture peal open and the shutter expose the light sensitive film, and he will capture his shot to engrave a permanent image into it just like the famous one with the drone flying above the performance artists that he has made memorable.

and that’s the picture with the image of the old kwame nkrumah circle just before the demolition caught up to that part of it

other artists on the team were performance artist jordan

creative assistants were magnus antonio, aba mbroba hagan and

head of kitchen was rebecca nutsugah because it was fufu and soup served to three asanka fulls, consumed with fork and knife and finished in time for the two performance artists to pack-up and leave just before the lights turned green again –

dkoseiyaw.com: thank you

http://dkoseiyaw.com/

The Modern Ghanaian: How Should We Perceive Things?

How do we perceive our world, - in order that we may see objectively without bias? Some people might offend you; There are those you would like and those you wouldn't like - yet how do you still see objectively without bias? Add to your knowledge virtue - have a standard you don't compromise; Cultivate and train yourself to know the true purpose or the deeper intent behind things. When you have virtue, or are cultivated with a deeper intent behind things, you will learn not to let your bias of someone else have the best of you in your judgement of their expertise. Take for example a young man who dislikes his own father, - purpose and virtue tell us that a father is a symbol of authority, and that spiritually, blessings trickle down from the crown of the head to the feet. As a result, one shall honour his father so that it may be well with him regardless if he likes him or not. Today Ghanaian culture has brought forth what I call, 'the modern Ghanaians' - Ghanaians with all there is materially to adorn the outside of their lives, and so appear in the, 'manner' in which fulfilment or success might appear to be, although truly there is a chronic lacking for what I call, 'inner alignment'. Inner alignment simply implies that whatever it is that, 'the modern Ghanaians' possess on the outside, they did not first of all aquire the requisite or necessary inner fulfilment and understanding before aquiring that thing physically ; And therefore the purpose, as to the role of the thing in their lives, completely eludes them, much more so as to even try to claim ownership of it - no, the things rather own and control them, because as it is said, abuse is inevitable where there is no purpose. These are some kind of 'mannerists', who have been greatly fuelled by the notorious, 'Dada Ba' tag, with their infamous nouveau riche parents. Consider this for example, a Ghanaian child who grows up in a typical village, and only on rare occasions that are romantically orchestrated gets to catch glimpses of his face in the pristine rivers, this child, I consider more internally aligned towards understanding and knowing more the value of owning a mirror. Reason being, that child has his consciousness marked by such an relativity, affecting the way he perceives the world around him and its materiality. A child like this is outright wealthier than any kid of any nouveau riche parent admitted into any international school in Accra, who hardly has had that stimulation on his consciousness by the quality or originality of his relative experiences or by other, which may have layed him across the path with inner alignments. Notwithstanding, since this village boy may not be as fluent in the English language as his counterpart in the city, the saturated atmosphere of the intimidating materiality of the mannerist's mannerisms, will do a good job of coercing him to feel inferior, whereas in actuality the mannerist kid is rather the inferior one, in terms of the true essence of life. Another example is a child who grows up in the neighbourhood roaming and collecting clay from the earth, brings them home to shape into little cubic blocks with empty little tins that he fashioned himself, bakes them at his mother's coal-pot side, and then lay his little cubes on top of each other with moist clay inbetween to create his little house; this child, compared to a kid whose Dad comes back from work one day and then dumps a stack of legos in his room to start building houses; The former is for real, and the latter - a mannerist, having not experienced the perception of the former - note the word, 'Perception'. I am not simply talking about seeing the clay and coal-pots being reminiscences of certain past traditions and cultures as merely cool, as a result of the truth of their stark differentiation from modern lifestyle - as a matter of fact that is a mannerist's gibberish, cool is a mannerist's vocabulary often unwanted for a clear assessment leading to a conscious discovery and direction ; I am talking about truly knowing the worth of things that shape and form part of your perception and the consciousness with which you live everyday. Modern Ghanaian culture is replete with such critical mass of, 'mannerists' with a peer pressure so stupidly mundane that even the truly wealthy ones are being dragged along this joke of a life. This is why all the wrong people are being projected by the media as heroes and stars when in actual fact they are the servants in benzes who have forced the princes to walk.

PS:
Mannerism was the art movement that took place immediately after the Renaissance during the 16th century. This is because in Mannerism, the “real-life” accuracy of a painting wasn’t as important anymore. . . Instead, Mannerist artists were more interested in creating an interesting composition and expressing an emotion.

HOME I$ EL$EWHERE:

$unny brightne$$ quickly flip$ over into total darkne$$, a$ if $omeone aimed at the hundred-watt incande$cent and drove a bullet through it$ filament.
'...'Did it ju$t for you, bae', $ighing.
'Ye$, it'$ the fre$hne$$ of the mint particularly in your breath.'
'Goodnight', $he give$ him a good warm rub over hi$ forearm$ that her diamond wedding ring $hu$hed.
~
'Not again, thi$ time it'$ on the roof!?'
'Haha...'
Vocal chord$ $lightly tilt to let out a loud, 'Kokorekoo...!'. The ru$tling $ound of it$ wing$ roughly paddle the current a$ it throw$-off from the tip of the roof, the follow-up to the banging foot$tep$ above  the $hale.
~
Incen$e e$caping from mug$ in thin vapour$ and the frangrance$ from cayenne pepper and $pice all about the room.
'That'$ how I like it. When it'$ big enough for you to $niffle in all the herb$'.
'...Well I hope mine were wide enough to get you all the herb$ in my mint la$t night...'
The cutlery knife that her left hand accidently $hifted distract$ a little romance when it dropped. $he got up from the top of hi$ lap to go fetch it.
~
Long unkempt nail$ layered with thick dark filth, beat on the hard $tony wall ragingly... and attempt$ to claw it down.
He will drum hi$ finger$ on the table to the beat of the $econd hand of the ticking clock, counting down to the $econds, 'Tick-Tock...'
~
The little $ilver bell on the table goe$ off with a loud ringing $ound.
He jump$ up and punche$ the air, land$ right back on hi$ feet as would N'Golo, celebrating again$t their rival.
~
The joy of going home to her warmth taken him over.
Bit-by-bit trace$ of blood began to ooze out through the little crack$ inside the corner$ of the thick-dark-dirt-filled finger nail$ that $cratched on the $tony wall.
'Home i$ el$ewhere', a voice quietly whispper$ in the open of hi$ inner mind.
He turn$ around to face the beam of light$ that $tole their way through the crack hole of the $tony wall.
He peerd through the hole deeply a$ he approached the light and looked with intent  curiou$ity.
~
The land$cape $culpt$ it$elf out of hi$ eye$ reminding him of her beauty.
The fresh $mell of the water reminded him of her mint breath.The morning dew a$ the thin vapour that will ri$e out of the mug. And all the different beautiful $pecie$ of plant$, butterflie$, bird$ and the ladybird$ repre$enting pepper and $pice.
~
The high and uncontrollable toot$ of decibel$ with velocity capable of penetrating concrete wall$ $pew-off in proximity to the che$t$ flung open.
It $haken$ to awakening a tran$fixed mode like ripple$ go through pure clean still water.
The che$t was fir$t to rapidly go in.
$omething perhap$ respon$ible for the daydream went hid, but it certainly hadn't cleared from her eye sight - that powerful image. It won't leave, no matter how hard $he tried.
~
'Let me be the one to fark'.
'Alright...go ahead and make the turning.'
'No don't helf me!Na...!'
'Ok. But I'm $till gonna have to keep helping you until the day my $hoe $ize is no more five time$ your$.'
~
'I'll do i$...I'll do i$', hi$ piercing voice pitching.
$creeching $ound of $edan handbreak$ a$ it i$ jolted $kyway, - little bit more un$crupulou$ly like the $ound of the horn earlier- more like it.
~
The $ound of $inging clo$ing in from the doorway meant there wa$ no room for delay, $he had to be there quickly le$t the $lighte$t hint i$ given away.

THE SCREEN

[In score composition interplay between rhythmic and melodic phrases originating from words (Love writes itself in the heart of hope), use ostinati and use pulse to punctuate rise and fall of emotion (using melodic or rhythmic phrase smoothly, jumpy, step-by-step etc) and use horns among orchestra instruments. Let music connect with scene, long and short occurrences ascribed to notation values.

{Tentative opening scene: Papers fluttering in an open drawer and then it pans out into an open wide window with broad curtains and paper and curtains scatter in wind}

Screenplay:

The last blob of ink from a fountain pen soaks into an oak wood paper to dry itself at the tip of a signature.

Buffalo leather bag – black, pressed to the torso by both arms clad in black, emerges out of a glass door that slides open, as the escalator conveys them downward while the glass door slides back to close, the figure of a male pacing towards a female passer-by colleague in a bid to get her attention occurs in the distance, revealed as the escalator lowers man with bag’s head off. It is a sight of very brief seconds, and the glass door had shut back to close behind, yet happening was transparent.

Face of one holding bag is now revealed by camera panning up from hands clutching bag showing a bit of confusion and then quickly relief. This was while glass door slide back and transparency go on.

Very tightened long shoe lace on mirror-polished shoes step off the end of an escalator.

‘Mr. Dickson’ a voice calls out loud from a little farther behind in the foyer not far from the main entrance before exit of the complex where his figure was set.

The clapping of footsteps from hard soled shoes echoes around the foyer. A black suited executive appears before Mr Dickson breathing hard. Mr Dickson takes in his handshake. His words are pulsated by breathing. He catches his breathe and speaks at the same time.

‘Thanks for doing business with us’

‘Very well Edem you almost lost me on our way but I hope this business relationship will be the beginning of something new to be the envy of this world’. He lays an emphasis on the word business while a grimace of pleasance sketched itself as the sunshine would be let out by a cloud. Edem looked quite puzzled at this moment shortly.

‘Certainly-

Mr Dickson interrupts Edem very quickly and adds, ‘ – certainly Toya is in the frontline of her life’. He smiles.

Mr. Dickson is seen walking out the main exit of the foyer as Edem is left alone behind him enjoyably puzzled.

In a shorter distance from Mr. Dickson’s full figure before the front yard of the building, camera pans up his headspace and shows the entire organization building in shot with the big signage that read, ‘Frontline Advisors’

Orchestra now plays louder

And performance of Spoken Word piece is made live with music

Visual theme – composition of shots should follow the theme of wedding ceremony

THE DAY I ALMOST MADE IT TO CHURCH

I'm not overdoing this, am l? All of last night was spent just mastering that track - Am I not drifting back into that past? I vowed I wasn't going to rap again. Well it still doesn't change the fact that I am a new being even if I rap...Waking up every morning in an orange couch behind four walls painted orange is becoming boring. But I never thought sleeping inside a couch could be so much fun. One day I would definitely want to wake up with someone I love inside a couch, one that is near to the  window like mine - but inside a manor with the widest window in the world so that I can harvest plenty of sunshine. But this one has  patches all over it. Haha...you're funny Joel. Do you remember how you used to be obsessed with keeping it spotless? Now you walk all over it and even step on it right from the bathroom to pick up stuff from the top of the wardrobe. Ah, did I really say that about myself the other day? I need to stop telling people that I am a night person, but I struggle to wake up in the morning. It makes you out to be lazy but I am not lazy, I'm just misunderstood. Looks like I might have to cancel this trip, but I am avoiding just the thought of it, so that I don't make it concrete. There is nothing at all known that will prevent me from making it there today. Except if it's not in God's perfect will - which is unknown but known. Man, you don't want to walk out of God's perfect will, it's dangerous! Get thee behind me Satan, I can never have an accident. Yes I may be out of God's will but it doesn't change the fact that I cannot die. What's that sound in the bathroom? Oh no she beat me to it again. I'm just going to go and insist that I shower first because I have more pressing things to do - and it's my house. '...yesterday is the past, tomorrow is the future and today is a gift that's why it's called the present...Lala lala laa....Uh this Jahazel, the kids call me spit bars here...' I'm wondering who this Jahazel dude might be, I like his flow. Wow, he's sure been through a lot though. His friend died from overdose. OK, it's time to get out of here now. So how is it going to be like? Shower, dress up? Ah - very few unworn underwears today, wish I had all my favorite ones clean since I will be travelling. Oh Lord I have made nothing ready for this trip of mine. And think of it, that Brother Cirlef called only last night that I should make all the arrangements for the celebration of Brother Nalla's birthday, might all be part of the reason why this trip may not happen. Yet as I said I wouldn't like to project the thought. The meeting after church today with leaders should not be missed - that will be suicidal, it's too much grace to miss!  The man of God has just returned from his pilgrimage. But my travel is also a ministry assignment. Honestly, I am not here in the moment - not present, not even the coolness of the water in my skin some minutes ago was felt.

THE GOLD

His first step off the pedestal lands his foot on a rotund piece of a rubble that almost rolls him down to his knees. It had seemed to him as though the lost souls had joined in the service, throwing every fiery dart in protest against the purging of the city of their blood that cried vengeance. 'Woe unto you,' he cried, 'ye blind guides, which say, Whosoever shall swear by the temple, it is nothing; but Whosoever shall swear by the gold of the temple, he is a debtor! Ye fools and blind:for whether is greater, the gold or the temple that sanctifieth the gold'.

A DAY BETWEEN TWO 2

The pieces of thin broken sticks with charred tops that he flung over his shoulder had scattered all around the floor behind him. He guarded the flame from the last match with utmost care.  His left hand was capped around it like an opaque lamp shade while his bearded face gently drew closer with the wick to catch fire. Only millimeters away, the flame flickered, and almost died out, but he had been more cautious and patient this time not to have allowed the tiny puffs of air that escaped through his nostrils to put out this glow. The fire quickly kissed the paper wick that pointed out his mouth and it blushed bright-red. In three very lengthy draws-in, he subjected the other end of the puffy paper wick to a heavy suction, that some of the miniscule husks of its content stuck to the tip of his tongue. A brief moment of respite followed, lining the air in the room with thin trails of smoke that quietly rose from the burning tip of the paper wick. Then soon afterwards was a massive explosion – a gush of dopamine into a streaming red liquid that ran through pipes beneath his skin – the last of the elongated draws-in on the paper wick had at this time, accumulated with the previous two and caused this explosion.

Like a smoke alarm, there was scarcely any delay in triggering the neurotic activity that unleashed the euphoria that suddenly made everything clearer to him – the birds singing, ‘Halleluiah!’, the cocks crowing, ‘Nyame y3 Krokroko’, the whine of mosquitoes closing in from the distance crying about shortage of blood during daytime.

Everything suddenly and lucidly made sense to him; even the sound of the cricket that promised no sleep.

‘I was blind, but now I see’ he remarked in awe of the shocking revelation to this new found epiphany. What was also wondrous is how in that enlightened state of mind, many questions came thronging in, questions that had once crossed his mind yet had not received any proper reflection due to the burdening apprehensions of everyday life. After waiting too long, most of these thoughts simply tarried within the subconscious on a long waiting list of other thoughts queuing-in to be thought through.

‘What were those toads saying to me the other day while I was passing - what really?’ he unexpectedly found himself asking – inaudibly - his luminous face now gaping in the sky with a big question mark of zoned-out mind adventures, whose greatness in appearance excitingly intimidates and stuns in its clarity.  'Ring..!' And as if an incandescent lamp bulb suddenly blew lit -

Alas this was short lived – The movie.

The jarring impact of contemplation that had been managed at bay behind the walls of my barricaded mind suddenly gathered the nerves to jam my television set.

My heart begun to race once more when I realized I still stood beneath running water.

I prayed that the type-written scripts that I carried earlier on in a flat file inside my bag had not been touched by water, lest they were ruined in any way. Their salvaging was worth all the athletics in the rains today.

I wouldn’t say that I was afraid of getting drenched in the rain like many people where I come from, I only needed to secure the safety of these scripts at any personal expense, because they were worth to me more than just words printed on a paper.

The flat file and my cell phone were huddled somewhere inside the big belly of my MSimps handbag – a sizeable unisex carrier made in Ghana from Tie and Dye fabric.

I almost get close to marching naked from the bathroom to give the items in my bag a quick check inside the bedroom, and then return to finish my bath, yet instead I resolve to do the inspection afterwards.

‘Agyeii…!’ I nagged abruptly in pain.

My left hand had accidentally rubbed over the welts that were formed on the right shoulder of my arm and bruised it a little. It sent a spasmodic chill of ache through my naked body under the cold water that misty evening.

‘ Awurade Nyankop3n, akoa’yi 3nsusu’am b3 me’ I uttered these words in Twi in a vengeful tone, now examining the welts, while wishing at that moment that the Mate had appeared for me to strike him repeatedly in his jaw.

It was natural that such an outburst of pain would first of all be expressed in Twi, and then afterwards in English when the hurt had calmed.

‘This moron of a guy had not at all relented in pounding my shoulder’ I whispered this to myself disgusted by every thought of the Mate, although deep down inside me, I wish I had not revenged.

‘A tooth for a tooth’ played no part in my upbringing.

 Sometimes I would even quip when conversing with some friends that, ‘if an eye for an eye will make the world go blind, then a tooth for a tooth will make the whole world hungry, because nobody would have teeth to chew.’ One of them would always reason me out exclaiming, ‘what happened to swallowing?’

Well, but my own maxims should have forewarned me. Now that overpowering feeling of remorse would not let me go. This is what happens when I am often misled by anger to err, ‘I should’ve known this because I knew this’ it even made a song in my head.

I rotated the knob to stop the water from flowing.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed the bedroom way.