75 Years, Head Heart Hand: Why Mawuli Still Owns My Soul

The Intro (AKA Me Being Emotional From Afar)
I'm writing this from my tiny European apartment, scrolling through WhatsApp videos of Old Students flooding Ho like it's December 24th and everyone's going home for Christmas. My face hurts from smiling. My heart hurts from FOMO. And my eyes? Let's just say I'm going through a heartbreak💔

I'm just a Mawulian💛💚 missing the biggest family reunion of the decade.

75 years. SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS. That's older than Ghana itself. That's generations of excellence, decades of "discipline and integrity," and approximately 10,000 arguments about whether Mawuli or Achimota is better (it's Mawuli, fight me).

To every Mawulian reading this, whether you're in Ho right now living your best anniversary life, or you're like me, experiencing severe FOMO from somewhere else on this planet: Happy Anniversary to US. We did it. We're still here. The eagle still soars.

What's coming in this love❤️ letter? Buckle up. We're about to get nostalgic, grateful, and maybe a little philosophical. I'll tell you how a school on the Glalah family land shaped this chaotic human you see today. We'll dive into why that sacred ground in Ho holds more memories than any university campus ever could. And yes, we'll address the elephant in the room: why do Ghanaians treat their high schools like sacred ground while universities are just... there?

Grab your sobolo (or wine, I don't judge). Let's celebrate.

How Mawuli Shaped Me (Or: The Origin Story Nobody Asked For)
Picture this: A skinny Form 1 student arrives at Mawuli, full of dreams about becoming a "great engineer." Fast forward to sleeping at 18 units because "we wanted a bright future." The irony? I'm now building a language learning startup. Engineering? We don't know her. But that discipline, that grind, that Mawuli spirit? Still here, still driving me.

You know what Mawuli really taught me? How to transition from a child to an adult whilst still eating Akple or Banku with my hands when Mr. Kuka shouts "mi amor kple asi!" The freedom. The rebellion against Western cutlery. The small acts of cultural preservation that felt like a revolution.

Making your bed or getting punished. Being on time or facing consequences. Running to Ho Technical University some days (sorry, not sorry) to stay with my sister just to escape senior punishment and eat proper home-cooked food. These weren't just rules; they were life lessons wrapped in green and yellow.

And those Sunday pork dinners? Chef's kiss. We're called HAVIWO for a reason, and I wear that piglet title with PRIDE.

But here's what really shaped me: Head, Heart, Hand. Not some fancy Latin motto nobody understands. Just three simple words that told us exactly what we needed to be: thinkers, feelers, doers. In Europe now, building Modatongue, I'm still using all three. The head for strategy, the heart for community, the hands for the actual building. Rev. Trost and those American teachers who came in 1950 knew what they were doing.

A Little History (Because Respect Your Elders)
Let me tell you about gangster moves in education history. 1950. The British Colonial Office is sweating because they promised the UN that British Togoland would have a secondary school by January. Rev. Walter Trost shows up from Wisconsin (WISCONSIN!) and basically says "hold my communion wine."

The land dispute between two branches of the Glalah family about who's really giving the land to the E.P. Church? They worked through it. No buildings ready? They cooked in a backyard pit. No water? They drove trucks to Kpetoe river. Bats in the dormitory? They became part of the ecosystem. A 105-foot silk cotton tree threatening to crush everything? They cut it down themselves when the sawyer didn't show up.

And those double bunk beds that caused national controversy? "Students might fall out! The upper one might wet his bed!" The newspapers had a FIELD day. But Mawuli said "we move." Years later, the same education officers who criticised us came asking for the design plans. Innovation looks like rebellion until it works.

Elizabeth Ohene said it best: we weren't trying to be Eton or Harrow. We had basketball courts, not cricket fields. We had piggeries feeding our dining halls, not some imported British nonsense. We were building nation-builders, not rulers.

75 years later, that DNA is still in every Mawulian. We don't follow; we create paths.

The People I Met (And Why I'd Still Take A Bullet For Them)

You want to talk about ROI? Mawuli gave me returns that no MBA programme could ever match.
 
George Hlorvor, my brother and wing man, haha. Edem Foli, we've been great friends and business partners since 2014, a year after we left Mawuli. Started MediaSpot Advertising in university, sold laptop stickers, made over GHC 20,000. Now he's part of my Modatongue team. From dorm room dreams to actual startups.
 
Then there's Edem Ahadzi. Plot twist: he was my school son! You know that beautiful Ghanaian high school tradition where Form 1s get "school parents"? Now he's my co-founder at Modatongue. From me supposedly mentoring him to us building "the world's first comprehensive human and AI-powered heritage platform" together. Life comes at you fast.

Bismark Osiakwa makes my reusable bags for tech events. Dennis Appau brings the T-shirts. Eyram Sedoh was my partner for Traffic Light Breakfast in 2018; we sold packaged breakfast to people stuck in Sunyani, Hohoe and Accra traffic. Every business I've touched has Mawulian fingerprints on it.

And LOVE❤️? Yes, Mawuli gave me that too. An amazing, beautiful soul from those years. We're not together anymore, but those memories? Priceless. Almost gave me another one recently, but that's a story for another day. 😂

Even back in Ghana at Takoradi Technical University, Mawuli followed. I started the first OMSU group there in 2016. Joined the 2013 year group executives in 2022 to lead IT and media. Built our alumni website, managed data, kept us connected. Once a Mawulian, always a Mawulian.

I recently visited Cologne🇩🇪 this year for my birthday.And guess who hosted me my entire stay? A Mawulian, my former classmate, Enoch Akornor. Then went to a Black Sherif concert there with Bismark, an OMSU as well. The people or the community is my favourite thing.

The OMSU Factor
One of the beautiful things about Mawuli School is the numerous contributions old students make to give back to their home. You will see many projects done and financed by various year groups on campus. That mindset of not relying on the government of Ghana to equip the school.

The Great Ghanaian High School Phenomenon (A Social Commentary)
Here's something the world needs to understand: In Ghana, your high school isn't just where you went to school. It's your identity. Your tribe. Your lifetime membership to an exclusive club that nobody can revoke.

Americans flex with "I went to Harvard" or "MIT grad here." Ghanaians? "I'm Odadee" (Presec). "Prempeh boy for life." "Adisco Santa Clausian." "Wesley Girls finest." And of course, " OMSU OR HAVIWO OR MAWULIAN till I die."

University? That's cute. That's where you got your degree. But HIGH SCHOOL? That's where you became YOU.

Why? Because those 3-7 years (depending on which government administration or school policy caught you) weren't just about academics. It was a total transformation. You left home as a child, probably your first time away from mummy's banku or jollof. You learned to survive on gari soakings and Gaso stew as we call it in Mawuli. You discovered who you were when nobody was watching (except seniors ready to punish you).

You made friends at 2 AM whilst learning at 18 units. You shared everything: from provisions to punishments. You created languages only you understood, traditions only you practised, bonds that 20 years later still make you drop everything when a mate calls.

Universities in Ghana? You probably lived at home or in some hostel where you barely knew your neighbours. You attended lectures with 100+ people whose names you never learned. You graduated, and everyone scattered.

But high school? That's family. That's blood. That's why grown CEOs will cancel board meetings for Old Boys/Girls weekends. That's why successful diasporans fly home for anniversaries. That's why I'm here crying over videos I am seeing.

The Final Goodbye (Just Kidding, Mawulians Don't Say Goodbye)
As I write this, we've seen more than 8,000 people in videos already flooding Ho. Someone's definitely arguing about whether the pork is as good as "our time." Someone's telling Form 1s how "seniors these days don't know real punishment." Someone's standing at Corridor 3, remembering dreams that became reality.

To current students reading this: You're living in history. 75 years of excellence stand behind you, but the future? That's yours to build. Use your Head: think critically, dream audaciously. Use your Heart: love fiercely, serve selflessly. Use your Hands: build practically, create boldly.

To my fellow Old Students: We are the proof that Mawuli works. From that Glalah family land in Ho, we've conquered lands worldwide. Engineers, doctors, entrepreneurs, artists, leaders, all carrying that green and yellow DNA.

And to Rev. Trost, Rev. Baeta, and every teacher who believed that a school in Ho could change Ghana and beyond: We see you. We honour you. Your "Head, Heart, Hand" philosophy didn't just build a school; it built generations of builders.

75 years strong and we're just getting started. The eagle doesn't just soar in Ho; it soars wherever Mawulians plant their feet.

Happy 75th Anniversary, Mawuli. Thank you for the discipline, the friendships, the pork dinners, the punishments that became funny stories, and most importantly, for making us who we are.

Once a Mawulian, always a Mawulian. From wherever we are, even with FOMO, even through tears, I'm still HAVIWO and proud.

Here's to the next decades. May the green and yellow forever fly high.

P.S. If you're at the anniversary celebrations right now, pour some palm wine on the ground for those of us suffering from geographical FOMO.

P.P.S. To my fellow Mawulians abroad watching grainy WhatsApp videos at 2 AM your time: I see you. I feel you. We're still part of this, even from afar. The eagle soars everywhere, not just in Ho.

P.P.P.S. Current students, when you become Old Students spreading across the world, remember this: No matter where life takes you, that sacred ground in Ho will always be home. And 25 years from now, at the 100th anniversary, you'll be the ones planning to be there or crying over WhatsApp videos from the Glalah family land. Trust me. 💚💛


Discipline and Integrity Forever. HEAD HEART HAND!!!!!

#Mawuliat75 #MawulianForLife #HAVIWO #HeadHeartHand