Archive for February, 2012

Super Time is my time

After endless sleepless nights of strategising, selecting the best starting line-up including bench players and analyzing playing patterns and oppositions strengths and weaknesses to best prepare for the forth coming season(and I’m talking about myself not the coaches ). Last night like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for jolly old Santa I could not sleep, the wait is finally over today 24/02/2012 marks the beginning of the 2012 Super Rugby season.

I’m a passionate rugby player as those who know me will attest too, but not everyone is as passionate as I am, for those who are asking what Super Rugby is… that’s simple it’s a rugby competition contested by the southern hemispheres 3 leading rugby nations ( Australia, New Zealand and South Africa). Each country has 5 teams representing them:

The competition is played on a round-robin and knock-out format, beginning in February and culminating in July, with the winner lifting the Super Rugby trophy and with it the bragging rights for a year. Currently the Reds are the champions and hope to retain their title but looking at all the pre season work the teams have been putting in, this year is going to be a race to the wire, requiring them to hit the ground running.


Now that you have the basic idea of what will be keeping me busy the next few months I suggest you go read up on the competition and the game of rugby, adopt a team and follow the Super movement. See you in the stands.


If I were the Boss would I have to change my name and be called Rick Ross? Because apparently he is ‘The Boss’, I wouldn’t mind though as some already say that we look alike… yeah if I gained 200kg maybe, but thinking about it, if being the boss is the kind of life that Rick Ross speaks of “I Gott a Choppa in the car hurrgh” then sign me up, because who do you know that has a chopper in their car?.


The question is, The Boss of what… major corporation, NGO, or simply your own life? Before you can bark out orders to others you have to ‘relax your body’ and whip yourself into shape. They always tell you “Be all that you can be” yet once you become “The architect of your dreams” or “The captain of your ship” what then?

We are always told to take control of our lives and mould our destiny, which is all fair and well but then once we are on the right track what about the management there of? What about being the boss of your life? making sure you run efficiently and effectively, while making a profit adhering to the strategic plan you have dreamt up for yourself(being your own boss and managing your life). We all fight our own battles be it moral, spiritual or ethical. I know I’m fighting my own demons so before I can be The Boss of someone else I need to be my own boss and take total control of my own life… till then I will keep blogging and tweeting while searching for the correct Management style to apply to my life (Functional or TQM maybe).

It had been one of those days where time seemed to have stood still, I found myself checking the time every 5 minutes wishing the clock would strike 4. It was Friday and there was a bar stool with my name on it, after a full day of meetings  my day had finally come to an end, now on to the watering hole…or so I thought as I stepped out onto the street I was greeted by wind machines booms and prop trucks.

Before I could even figure out what was happening a large assuming figure was hovering over me, before I could turn around a voice barked back at me “why are you not in costume?” before I knew it I was in the costume trailer having my make-up applied. I thought about asking what was being filmed… but I had never been on television so I was just going to go with the flow and have my 15 minutes of fame.

Just before I went on set, my curiosity got the best of me and I just had to ask what role I would be playing… to my utter shock and surprise it was a Mens’ Clinic ad, and I was the lead character. Now I started to panic, what if I couldn’t rise to the occasion, as I was doubting my performance abilities a distant beep, beep, beep disrupted my chain of thought (dam it was my alarm clock, but I am not complaining … oh well time for work).

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Growing up in a small farming community is interesting to say the least, I’m from a small town called Matatiele in the Eastern Cape (formally part of Kwa-Zulu Natal). One thing you will notice about our small town is that the “Welcome to Matatiele” and “You are now leaving Matatiele” signs are on one poleJ. Matatiele geographically is diverse as we are on the border of The Eastern Cape and Kwa-Zulu Natal, with Lesotho a 23km away so we are a melting pot of culture.

Life is never dull in our little community, not because we cool like that but simply because the majority of the population has never left our sleepy hollow, so they have nothing to compare it to and for them waking up and standing around on dusty street corners is the highlight of their day.

My childhood was very fun though I must say, we would take random hikes into the mountains sometimes finding ourselves in Lesotho which would result in many a beating from my parents. For the less adventurous days we would steal peaches and apples from our neighbours’ trees while the faster kids would distract the dogs (live bait). Or running around in our underwear pretending to be mountain school initiates or swimming naked in dam (and no I was not naughty, I was just not very goodJ), those were the days… then we had to grow up and find other forms of entertainment like:

  • Alcohol
  • Baby making
  • Recreational drugs
  • Petty crime

I was lucky that my parents saw the growing trend and decided to send me off to boarding school before I could get involved in any of these activities (thank you mommy and daddy, you rock). You have not lived until you have visited Matatiele, some locals have a saying that “Jesus was born in Matatiele” how true this is I’m not sure, but next time you’re in my area look me up I live down by the old oak tree down by the river side.

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My Camara

Hi my name is Kwadwo, and I have a secret I have been hiding (not very well) for almost 2 decades now. I am in love with balls… Big balls, small balls, soft balls, hard balls but of all the balls I love, by far the oval (egg shaped) ball has to be the one that makes my heart skip a beat.

My love for rugby (oval ball) knows no bounds, I would sacrifice sleep and wake up at 3am to watch super rugby. Growing up in a small Eastern Cape farming community town, where your earliest memory was running around barefoot at 8am in the morning warming up the ground as a 6 year old, for the older boys. These were memories edged in stone, which will never be forgotten even when I get old.

Then of course was the 95 world cup, I remember how I would go over to my friends place and play rugby with his dogs being “The All Blacks”. As my love for the game grew so did my talent J which saw me making the u13A side at the age of 11, and by the age of 12 being invited to my first Provincial trial.

The trials went really well, I made it to the final round…then horror struck in my over eagerness I somehow got my left leg broken in 3 places. I remember the doctor saying “I have never seen such a serious break at such a young age”, but so passionate was I about the game all I could ask him was “will I be ok next week? We have our derby game next week.” All I remember was him laughing and rubbing my head saying I will be fine soon. Although I had broken my leg I had laid the ground work for my future as I was awarded a sports scholarship to a top Kwa-Zulu Natal boys school.

So here I am a boy from a small town in the big city, at a school with 1200 boys all mad and passionate about rugby, we ate, breathed and slept rugby (literally) rugby  was a culture here a life style a way of life. I was home! This was the kind of environment that quenched my rugby hunger. From the pre match Friday boot polishing sessions to the war cry practice, this was a rugby enthusiasts heaven. My little hormonal heart was beating at an alarming rate.

As if bad luck was following me and was jealous of my love for the oval ball, exactly 1 year and 6 months after I broke my leg at provincial trials… I broke my other leg in one of our last league matches for the year (yes I got back onto the field as soon as I could walk againJ). So here we go again, back at the hospital only this time the doctors were saying if I broke another bone they would have to amputate. This news could not stop me… 8 months later I was back on the field following my passion (by this time my family had given up on trying to stop me from playing).

And to add the cherry on the cake, I did my PR internship at The Natal Sharks. A team I have supported since I was a young lad (and played age group rugby for). That year I met every single big name in rugby and still get goose bumps thinking about it.

I’m happy to say that was my last major injury (emphasise on major), and I have been playing at various levels ever since. Like I mentioned earlier I love all kinds of balls, hence I also played: Hockey, cricket, soccer, basketball, squash, table tennis and tennis at a competitive level for my school. I blame my parents for my love of sport(My Dad was a National Sprinter in his youth and my mum a national hockey player) especially my love for balls.

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Who Am I

At face value this is a very simple question, one that can be answered without a word being spoken. My Identity document and Birth Certificate can provide all the answers as to who I am. But only if it was that simple, there is whole lot more to me than an Id number, name, surname and of course date of birth.

The question I feel is relevant to me is WHAT AM I? What I am, is a member of a long line of Homo sapiens (for all those who are not Darwinists, it is Latin for “wise man” “knowing man”). When you meet me for the first time you realise that I’m not your average guy. My name is Kwadwo Adom-Aboagye (yes a mouthful). The first thing everyone asks is “where are you from?” and my answer is always “My parents are from Ghana, but I was born and raised in the Eastern Cape” then I let you decide for yourself, because by default I’m South African, but due to my name and appearance many of my peers have found it difficult to accept that little technical aspect of my nationality even though I speak 5 of South Africa’s official languages they will always see me as that guy who is here to steal jobs, funny as “here” is the only home I know. So where is home for me?

Some have called me confused as I was raised on Ghanaian values in a South African environment, yet I don’t feel that I’m confused at all. I know exactly WHAT I AM, I’m the prototype of the next generation of Homo sapiens, a generation that will know no borders. A generation of thinkers who will change the landscape of Africa for the better.

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At some point in our lives we have all disobeyed instructions and challenged authority in some way or another, be it a simple request from your parents “cleaning your room” or your Grade 8 Math Teacher “do chapter 4 for homework”.

 “Why should I do what you say?”                                       “Who died and made you boss?”  “And what if I don’t want to?”

Sound familiar? It should, if you have not said it chances are you thought it… I know I have on many an occasion.

Ok before I start to digress, let me tackle the question as to WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS? Devoid of scientific research to back me up I shall throw caution to the wind and blame society more especially those who make/give instructions. Why do I say this? Simple, from the moment we can think and are at our most impressionable stage of life(childhood), we are told that we should listen to our parents and any elder in general or person in authority, as they are all seeing and all knowing beings who have lived longer than we have. This is drummed into our heads and in “theory” is what happens, but by the time we hit adolescence we start to forge our own identity and think for ourselves. Now we are being encouraged by everyone around us to be independent and think for ourselves and ask as many questions as possible and challenge “The Man”.

So how do you expect me to follow your instructions, YOU have on one side told me “Do what I say as I’m right and know what’s right” then you go and tell me “challenge authority, be different and think for yourself”. This is where the problem begins. Try telling an adolescent boy that he must do his Algebra homework, at an age when he is starting to think that he knows everything and doesn’t see how X and Y will help him in the future… I thought as much not going to happen, so how then expect him to follow future instructions when the “WHY?” seed has already been sown?

Following Instructions


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