Monthly Archives: March 2010

How’s Chewing Gum made?

Ever wondered what chewing gum is made of? What makes it remain chewy in the mouth no matter how long one keeps chewing it?

I found this piece of information from TLC cooking and thought of sharing.

“Up until WWII, chewing gum was made of a substance called chicle mixed with flavorings. Chicle is a latex sap that comes from the sapodilla tree (native to Central America). In other words, chicle is a form of rubber.

Just like rubber bands don’t dissolve when you chew them, neither does chicle. Chicle is a good bit softer than rubber bands and happens to soften more when it gets warm in your mouth. If you freeze chicle with ice, it gets very stiff — chicle hardens and softens over a pretty narrow temperature range.

After WWII, chemists learned how to make artificial gum bases to replace chicle. These gum bases are essentially synthetic rubbers that have the same temperature profile as chicle.

Gum bases (either natural or artificial) are mixed with sugar and other flavorings to make chewing gum. When you chew it, the rubber releases these flavorings into your mouth.”


Tears are the purest description and expression of our deepest emotions and inner most feelings. Tears are the sincerest manifestation of our emotions that are allowed to surface for our mental comprehension. They sometimes flow in what seems like abundance whereas there are times when they refuse to release in despair from the intricate and deep feelings going on in one’s heart, mind and overall emotions.

Tears need to be let out in times of despair, in times of hurt and even in times of happiness. Tears need to be let out so as to accept a new beginning or an ending whether desired or not. There are times when a person needs to give up some tears and let it out of his heart so as to be able to stand up again and move on.

And to end with a beautiful quote: “If I were a tear in your eye I would roll down your lips to kiss you, and if you were a tear in my eye I would never cry to never ever lose you…”


We were mugged!

One time, we skipped a discussion class to go for an exciting and leisurely walk. (We would like to assure you right from the beginning of this post that we did in fact have an exciting walk.) So while enjoying our serene surroundings and beautiful day, we were suddenly greeted with a cutlass by two charmingly mean looking muggers. With a silent invitation to hand over our stuff by gesturing with their cutlass, we cordially handed over all our belongings. Frightened to silence and immobility we could not think of screaming or searching for help. Riding on a scooter as slow as a turtle they run off.  All this felt surreal until we hit reality and realized that we actually had a voice that could be used to scream for help.

Being such diligent students, we screamed “PLEASE we only want our school books back!!! You can have the bags!

Muggers thinking: “WTH is wrong with these girls? They just got mugged by our scary selves and they want their books?”

Unfortunately 3 cell phones, 1 laptop, 3 bags, Spice’s pink pencil case and Sugar’s Mickey Mouse key holder were stolen.

However, on a more serious note, it was indeed a scary experience. We advise you all to have some sort of protection with you at all times and be alert from anyone who approaches you.

Stay Safe.

Sugar and Spice

Peculiar Conversation

On my home today I had a peculiar conversation with the taxi driver.

And it went this way:

He: Sister! Do you speak Twi (local language)?

Me: kakra-kakra (meaning just a little bit)

He: Eiiiii Obroni (white) So you speak Twi – ( haha LMAO and all the ROFL)

He: Where is your hometown? (Where are you from?)

Me: (Am i going to explain to him my cocktail background? – I pick any of the 3 ) eg. Palestinian

He: PaKIStan???

Me: No .. paLEStine

He: Ah okkk! Good. You know arab women are beautiful – Indian women too..very very nice. And some part of Asia…

Me: Where China?

He: Oh Chinese women are dry! No INSIDE Asia there..

He: Will you marry a Ghanaian???? ( LIKE HUH?! why is he interested)


He: I like Europe, I want to travel and make money. And marry a white woman.

etc etc etc etc…..

Finally when I’m home,

He: So is this your house?

Me: NO my friend’s! (none of his business or sometimes when in a bad mood) Why do you want to know?

He: Oh..I want to be your friend!

Me: &*^&%%$^TG

He: My friend! Byeeee 😀


One exceptional story was a taxi driver who was deliberately complaining about problems with his mother in law because some people are accusing him of having a girlfriend.

[..] Oh sister! how can I do that? She make plenty trouble for my house! Me now how I will do that? We bought the rings and we are marrying soon. Oh I don’t know what her matter is [..]


So what could tomorrow’s conversation be about?


More girls = More hugs.

So I’m sitting in the gazebo of the university trying to finish some work. But it is getting a little distracting.  A number of students keep flooding in and then out; but this is not what is distracting me. There are two male juniors sitting before me with one that makes sure to hug half the girls that walk into the gazebo and of course with an after-hug top to “bottom” scrutiny.

I can’t really blame him if the girls allow him to hug their body freely and frankly its ridiculously funny watching him scrutinize them so. His friend on the other hand also knows the girls but simply sits aside and greets whoever looks at him with a smile and words. 😉

Oh well, back to work I guess unless he hugs more girls. 😛


Community Service

As part of a course requirement in uni, it was required to carry out a thirty-six (36) hours community service that would be beneficial to the local community.

I chose the Osu Children’s Home which is a community for orphaned, neglected, abused or missing children between the ages of zero and eighteen.

At the beginning, it was some sort of challenge to me. I believed that engaging in community service at the orphanage would carry out rewards beyond the obvious and tangible. Moreover it would help support a minute part of the community.

My first day at the home was not as I had anticipated. I came across cases of abnormalities and illness among the children and I must say there has been some form of discrimination from the staff.

I met a cute little two-year old boy ‘Addo’. He was not sent to school with the other children because the house mistress (care taker) claimed he was ill. Later I got to know from other volunteers that he was HIV positive. I was shaken at that moment, I had been there for like 2 days, and “Addo” was always by me, carrying him, helping him change, calming him down when he cried. Besides all the stuff I knew about HIV/AIDS, I couldn’t help but panic. Then I tried clearing up my mind about it, so as not to disappoint little Addo – it’s not his fault that he has AIDS. Later they claimed that he did not understand what was taught in school and the teachers complained that he was a mischievous. (I refuse to buy that) –  “Addo” was recently transferred to another center that caters for HIV positive kids.

The life of orphans at the home is a sad and disturbing one. It is poorly equipped, overcrowded, under-staffed, and I believe unattended by officials.

I hope to go back some time to check on them. Some unfortunately passed away, and others transferred to other centers. I remember little Addo, stubborn Akua, innocent Annabel, naughty John  and the others.

This experience made me appreciate that I have my parents around. I understood how important  family bonds are.

Besides,  I really hope I made the kids happy when I played with them and stood up for them when the older boys bullied them. Although majority  speak the local language and communication was difficult between us, I understood every expression.


Why don’t you comment on blog posts?

This is a direct question posed to every curious individual who visits this blog and several other blogs, reading through numerous posts without leaving trails of comments behind.

It’s quite overwhelming finding people taking time to read your thoughts. Meanwhile most of them don’t comment or respond. So whats the point and how would we know how good / bad the post was. A blog isn’t a blog without comments.

Writing a response to what bloggers post is important to both the blogger himself/herself and subsequent viewers on the blog.

Some deliberately choose not to comment while others show concern and may have nothing to add but make it a point to respond simply with nicely said, good job etc.

Its not about racing up for many and just any comment. Rather its about knowing the results of sharing your thoughts and ideas with others.

We can all try to make a point and respond to blog posts, you’re not obliged to discuss and analyse. It could be time consuming to read thoroughly and respond but the success of a blog is built by viewers.

When posts are read only without commenting the blog seems to be completely one-sided which defies the fact of having one.