Writing About Writing with Nana Elikem : Guilty Pleasures – A short story


This weekend, something interesting happened to me. I have decided to called it guilty pleasure though I do not think the experience captures the meaning of guilty pleasure in its entirety. Someone defines guilty pleasure as a “shameless blameless fun” but my case is more like a shameful blameless redemption.

I had just finished my presentation at the Youth Seminar. It was by far my best presentation; the auditorium was packed to capacity and the youth present were enthused. They were ready to embrace change and contribute to the Better Ghana Agenda.

“I’m so glad I came,” I told the organizer of the programme on my way out. “I have no doubt that these young ones will be the agents of change in this country.”

“I believe so too, Doc,” he said. “I’m actually very glad you made us sign the discipline pact. This will go a long way to keep us on the right path.”

“Yes, Dave.” I said smiling. “It’s time we let go off certain uncouth attitudes.”

After a while of chatting with the young lad, I had to leave. My car was parked in a garage about three hundred metres away from the seminar venue. I decided to walk to the garage though Dave thought I should pick a cab.

About half way through the distance to the garage, I started feeling it again. It started during my presentation and I brushed it off. I knew I could hold it in for a number of hours. This time it was intense – I could let go anytime soon. Whichever way, whether I tried to go to the garage or back to the seminar grounds, I was cork sure I could not hold it in for long. To add curses to insults, the ‘bashing’ I poured down on the audience of my presentation was echoing in my ears.

“Shame on you, if you throw rubbish around! Shame on you if you urinate in public places! Shame on you, you undisciplined future leader!” I screamed while animated youth applauded.

I looked behind me; some of the participants at the conference were walking briskly towards me. They had closed shortly after I left. I could only go forward but the problem was if I walked faster, the youth trying to catch up with me would think I am snobbish. Now, I was just two minutes away from soiling myself.

“This isn’t happening to me!” I screamed under my breath. I kept my cool, pretended as if I did not notice those following me and increased my pace a little. I couldn’t even walk too fast because it could trigger ‘the release’. Then, I saw my salvation – a corner.

I quickly unzipped my pants and ‘tsrooooooooooor!’. I let go! ‘Pheeeew!’ I sighed as I wiped a streak of tear off my face.

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