Ama Ata Aidoo Quotes

Clearly, she was enjoying herself to see that woman hurt. It was nothing she had desired. Nor did it seem as if she could control it, this inhuman sweet sensation to see another human being squirming. It hit her like a stone, the knowledge that there is pleasure in hurting. A strong three-dimensional pleasure, an exclusive masculine delight that is exhilarating beyond all measure. And this too is God's gift to man? She wondered.

But what she also came to know was that someone somewhere would always see in any kind of difference, an excuse to be mean.

We are victims of our history and our present. They place too many obstacles in the way of love. And we cannot enjoy even our differences in peace.

Money-making is like a god possessing a priest. He never will leave you, until he has occupied you, wholly changed the order of your being, and seared you through and up and down. Then only would he eventually leave you, but nothing of you except an exhausted wreck, lying prone and wondering who are you.

Because I am an African, I am a Ghanaian.

Once in a while I catch myself wondering whether I would have found the courage to write if I had not started to write when I was too young to know what was good for me.

O yes, everyone gets lonely some time or other. After all, if we look closer into ourselves, shall we not admit that the warmth from other people comes so sweet to us when it comes, because, we always carry with us the knowledge of the cold loneliness of death?

And yet, I have not wronged you, have I? Indeed if there is anyone I may have sinned against, it is me. That desiring you as I do, needing you as I do, I still let you go.

It's a sad moment, really, when parents first become a bit frightened of their children.

One had said, 'You say you come from Ghaanna? Then we have a lot in common!' Sissie didn't know what to do with the statement, uncertain of whether it was a threat or a promise.
'We had chiefs like you,' the Scot went on, 'who fought one another and all, while the Invader marched in.' Sissie thanked her, but also felt strongly that their kinship had better end right there.

No matter what anybody says, we can't have it all. Not if you are a woman. Not yet.

Africa is not fulfilling people's hopes and aspirations. African leaders have not had an agenda that included governing Africa so that people would find their careers, their life, dreams and visions fulfilled here.

You know perfectly well that if ever you really want to, you can come back to me, he said without the slightest trace of irony and cynicism, and left.

There are powerful forces undermining progress in Africa. But one must never underestimate the power of the people to bring about change.

They had always told me that I wrote like a man.

Guilt is born in the same hour with pleasure, like anything in this universe and its enemy.

Yes.
Work is love made visible.

The very old certainly do not go back on lunch remains but they do bite back at old conversational topics ...

Toyin Falola has given us what is truly rare in modern African writing: a seriously funny, racy, irreverent package of memories, and full of the most wonderful pieces of poetry and ordinary information. It is a matter of some interest, that the only other volume A Mouth Sweeter Than Salt reminds one of is Ake, by Wole Soyinka. What is it about these Yorubas?

Sissie could see it all. In her uncertain eyes, on her restless hands and on her lips, which she kept biting all the time.
But oh, her skin. It seemed as if according to the motion of her emotions Marija's skin kept switching on and switching off like a two-colour neon sign. So that watching her against the light of the dying summer sun, Sissie could not help thinking that it must be a pretty dangerous matter, being white. It made you feel awfully exposed, rendered you terribly vulnerable. Like being born without your skin or something. As though the Maker had fashioned the body of a human, stuffed it into a polythene bag instead of the regular protective covering, and turned it loose into the world.
Lord, she wondered, is that why, on the whole, they have had to be extra ferocious? Is it so they could feel safe here on the earth, under the sun, the moon and the stars?

Time by itself means nothing, no matter how fast it moves, unless we give it something to carry for us; something we value. Because it is such a precious vehicle, is time.

People are worms, and even the God who created them is immensely bored with their antics.

At the age of 15, a teacher had asked me what I wanted to do for a career, and without knowing why or even how I replied that I wanted to be a poet.

Love? Love? Love is not safe, my lady silk, love is dangerous. It is deceitfully sweet like wine from a fresh palm tree at dawn. Love is fine for singing about and love songs are good to listen to, sometimes even to dance to. But when we need to count on human strength, and when we have to count pennies for food for our stomachs and clothes for our backs, love is nothing. Ah my lady, the last man any woman should think of marrying is the man she loves.

MY WISH I wish I could have a woman like you To be my better half The mother of my children I wish I could have a woman like you To be the organizer of my home and The selector of my costume I wish I could have a woman like you To love her And be loved by her I wish I could have a woman like you To love my children And be loved by me children I wish I could have a woman like you Whom, I can walk with in public places And feel proud