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| Kurantse sitting with friends laughing at his jokes |
Part Four: Kurantse’s Hustle
The ghetto was a drum, beating endlessly. For Kwadwo Kurantse, every day was a rhythm of hustle, sweat, and survival. He woke before dawn, chasing odd jobs like a man chasing shadows. Carrying cement at construction sites, selling second‑hand clothes at Kantamanto, even running errands for shopkeepers — anything to earn coins. Yet the coins slipped through his fingers like water.
“Ei Kurantse,” shouted a trotro mate one morning, “you dey hustle pass ant, but still you dey hungry.”
Kurantse laughed, masking his pain.
“Life be like gari soakings. If you no get sugar, you go drink am bitter. But me, I dey add humour as sugar.”
His friends chuckled, but behind the laughter was truth. Kurantse’s hustle was endless, his dreams fragile.
That evening, he sat with his loyal companions, Sampson Kwao and Amos Asare, under a flickering streetlight.
Sampson leaned forward, his voice serious.
“Kurantse, you for change. Abrefi dey suffer. Sugar Daddy dey knock her door. If you want her back, you must prove you be man. Not just clown with jokes.”
Amos added, “Bro, hustle clean. Don’t follow Daniel and Justice. They dey lead you to darkness. Investigate this Sugar Daddy. Show Abrefi the truth.”
Kurantse sighed, staring at the dusty ground.
“Me deɛ, life be like trotro. Some dey pay full fare, some dey dodge mate. But all we dey go Circle. Abrefi dey go Circle of pain. I for stop am.”
But temptation was near. His bad friends, Daniel Owusu (Law) and Justice, appeared with sly grins.
“Ei Kurantse,” Daniel sneered, “forget this love matter. Hustle hard, scam small, chop quick. Sugar Daddy dey chop life. You dey here dey dream.”
Justice laughed, his voice dripping with mischief.
“Love no dey feed stomach. Money dey. If you no get am, you be clown. Abrefi go follow sponsor. Accept am.”
Kurantse shook his head, his humour turning sharp.
“Love no be soup wey you fit buy at chop bar. Love be struggle, but struggle fit sweet if you dey fight for truth.”
The oxymoron of his life was clear: poor but rich in hope, weak but strong in spirit.
Meanwhile, Abrefi wrestled with her own storm. She confided again in Blessing Agyakowaa, her tears flowing freely.
“Blessing, I don’t know what to do. My parents dey push me to accept Mr. Bediako. Portia dey say enjoyment. But my heart dey bleed. I think of Kurantse, of his jokes, of his struggles. I don’t want to marry for money.”
Blessing held her hand firmly.
“Abrefi, listen. Sugar Daddy’s promises be like smoke. They look big, but they vanish. Kurantse may be poor, but he dey fight. Don’t let money blind you. Ɔdɔ yɛ dɛ, na ɛyɛ yaw. Love is sweet, but it is pain. Pain can heal.”
Abrefi nodded, torn between duty and desire.
Back in the ghetto, Kurantse began his investigation. He followed whispers, asked questions, listened to gossip. He discovered that Mr. Bediako was not the saint he pretended to be. Rumours of shady business deals, broken promises, and abandoned women floated like ghosts.
One evening, Kurantse confronted a shopkeeper who knew Mr. Bediako.
“Uncle, this man dey promise marriage. But who he be truly?”
The shopkeeper shook his head.
“Kurantse, Mr. Bediako be man of money but not of heart. He dey collect girls like trophies. He dey buy love, but he no dey keep it. Be careful.”
Suspense thickened. Kurantse realized he had evidence, but how to use it? He needed courage, not just humour.
That night, he sat alone, staring at the stars.
“O boy,” he muttered in Ga, “street be drum. The beat dey sweet, but sometimes e dey kill. But me, I go dance different. I go fight for Abrefi.”
The next day, he met Abrefi secretly. Their dialogue was heavy with emotion.
Kurantse: “Abrefi, meyɛ man now. I dey hustle clean. I dey fight. Don’t let sponsor deceive you.”
Abrefi: “Kurantse, I am scared. My parents dey push me. Portia dey laugh. But my heart dey remember you.”
Kurantse: “Love no be sugar, it be struggle. But with me, you fit taste sweetness. Give me chance.”
Abrefi’s tears fell, but her smile flickered.
“Kurantse, maybe pain can heal. Maybe struggle can sweet.”
The ghetto orchestra played on — trotro horns, gossip, laughter — but beneath its rhythm was a new melody. Kurantse was changing, transforming from clown to fighter, from hustler to man.
Suspense lingered. Would his investigation expose Mr. Bediako? Would Abrefi resist the pressure? The oxymorons of life danced around them: poor but rich, weak but strong, trapped but free.
The hustle was not just survival; it was redemption. And as the night deepened, Kurantse’s vow echoed in the air:
“Abrefi, meyɛ man now. Not perfect, but true.
SUMMARY
📖 Story Outline: “Kurantse & Kotor: Love in the Shadows”
Part 1: The Ghetto Symphony
- Introduce Kwadwo Kurantse, a hustler from the ghetto, full of street wisdom and comic one-liners.
- His world is painted with oxymorons: “rich in poverty, free in chains.”
- Enter Abena Abrefi Kotor, the pretty schoolgirl with dreams bigger than her textbooks.
- Humorous banter between them sets the tone, sprinkled with Akan proverbs and Ga slang.
- Suspense begins as Abrefi’s friends pressure her into “living fast” — the investigative undertone hints at peer influence and hidden dangers.
Part 2: The Seed of Trouble
- Flashbacks of Abrefi’s innocent childhood contrast with her present teenage pregnancy dilemma.
- Dialogue-heavy scenes with her friends, full of puns and irony: “Ɛyɛ enjoyment anaa entrapment?”
- Investigative narration explores how societal pressures, gossip, and lack of guidance shape her choices.
- Kurantse reacts with humour masking pain, dropping witty lines like: “Me deɛ, life be like kenkey — hard outside, soft inside.”
- Suspense builds as rumours spread in the community.
Part 3: The Sugar Daddy’s Proposal
- A wealthy “Sugar Daddy” arrives at Abrefi’s parents’ home, dressed in exaggerated flamboyance.
- Humorous oxymorons: “old but youthful, generous but greedy.”
- Abrefi refuses at first, her dialogues sharp and poetic: “Love is not bought like tomatoes at Makola.”
- Parents are torn between poverty and promise.
- Suspense rises as Abrefi reluctantly accepts, setting the stage for conflict.
Part 4: Kurantse’s Hustle
- Kurantse faces life’s hustle: odd jobs, betrayals, and investigative glimpses into systemic struggles of ghetto youth.
- Flashbacks of his past mistakes haunt him, but humour keeps him afloat.
- Poetic metaphors: “The street is a drum, beating me into rhythm I never chose.”
- Dialogue with friends in Ga and Akan adds realism: “O boy, yɛn nyinaa yɛ hustlers, but some dey chop, some dey choke.”
- Suspense: Kurantse vows to transform into a better man to win Abrefi back.
Source: Societal Vibz Creative Desk