The title is still being worked on, but the content will fill volumes. It would not come across as a typical autobiography; it would seek to say it like it is-for real: the good, the bad and the ugly in realistic detail. For, he is all for real. Usually, most realists are also pragmatists who believe in the reality of the world around them.

This is what inspires the delicious songs he composes for the fans around the world. He is so real that he insists he is not a celebrity and does not want to be treated specially anywhere. The man has a story to tell: the humble beginnings, the Konongo-Odumase era, the Lumba association, the breakaway, the beginning of realism, the real deal and the all real deal.

You should be able to guess the title by now; it would necessarily have the word ‘real’ in it. That is what Ofori Amponsah typifies: realism made real.

The writing of books is not the kind of cord the hip-life musician would want to strike. In a society where even very big cities boast of one library and no village has any at all, the hip-life musician is better off learning how to play super digital versions of new musical instruments than taking time to write prose in his study room. But all that could change if Mr Ofori Amponsah makes real his vision to write a book.

He would do a good job as a novelist; he speaks brilliant English and his tenses are superb.

So, finally somebody from the music industry of Ghana would be writing instead of just singing away to feed the gossipy ears of music lovers. Does it sound real? Our politicians don’t write books; they write cheques. Never mind that none of the nineteen gentlemen seeking the flagbearership of the ruling party has written a book. Never mind that none of our great footballers has written a bestseller.

Never mind that very few or perhaps none of our great journalists has written about the trade. Never mind that none of our Miss Ghana beauty queens has dared to condense her vision into a reading material. Never mind that none of our models can really write a decent book.

Never mind that very few of our university lecturers have written good textbooks. Never mind that the electorate do not chase after the memoirs of politicians when they leave office. Elsewhere, orders are placed before they are written, and they are instant bestsellers when they come out.

So, it is refreshing that Mr Ofori Amponsah would make such an audacious break into the world of books. I had met Mr Ofori Amponsah on a Ghana International flight to Ghana from London. It was the first time I was seeing Mr All for Real for real. I quizzed: ‘Are you Ofori Amponsah?’ ‘Yes please’ came the reply. It was the same voice that I had heard in the Emmannuela song: the words had poured forth with full throated ease, just like the way a Victorian nightingale sings in winter. In fact, I had asked the question in Twi and he had responded with the affectionate humility of a well brought-up child of a bald catechist: ‘Mepa wo kyew aane.’

That is the kind of language my parents had been urging us to speak whenever we were talking to older folks. Or had Ofori Amponsah mistaken me for an elderly bloke? That often happens to me, and I usually have to play the grandfather when I am with my contemporaries. Anyhow, it would take a naturally respectful individual to speak that way to a complete stranger, unless he is all for real.

So, I wasn’t surprised when he came to remind me that the plane was boarding. We had had to wait at the boarding area at Gatwick airport for more than five hours, and there had been no announcements on the public address system to update us on developments, Ghana International being the resurrected Ghana Airways.

I had been loitering in those duty-free shops, smelling perfumes and looking forward to meeting my nephews and nieces. ‘Sir, I think Ghana International is now boarding,’ alerted Mr All for Real. Indeed, I was going to be left behind had he not cut short my window shopping. He had also bought some perfumes and what looked like a teddy bear. He really came across as a nice fellow who would not mind pouring rose water on a toad. He looked well composed in his smart jacket and blue jeans, with his braided rasta locks dangling at his back.

He had seen me holding Barack Obama’s autobiography, The Audacity of Hope, which was a gift I was going to give to a parliamentarian friend of mine. He looked at the photograph at the back of the book and asked: ‘Is this the black guy contesting for the leadership of the Democrats in the US?’ I answered in the affirmative.

Then came the philosophy of a real music man: ‘He is a nice guy. I like the way they put their ideas in books. I think it is something we in Africa must learn to do. I wonder why the writing culture has not been part of us. We have to start it seriously.’ He delivered the thought with so much passion that it came across as though he had always wanted an outlet for that kind of pent-up presentation. For somebody who says he is inspired by the world around him to compose his songs, he couldn’t have been more profound. As it turned out, he knew the world around him quite well.

He was knowledgeable about pertinent issues on the international plane and the socio-cultural dilemmas that have turned back the clock of Africa’s development.

‘I have been thinking of writing a book’, said Ofori Amponsah. I asked: ‘for real?’ He giggled at my mention of the word ‘real’ and confirmed: ‘Yeah, I have to tell my fans out there my story.’ I was exceedingly happy to hear that from a Ghanaian musician. I have always appreciated their creativity, but I had wondered why our celebrities do not write books. Don’t they have stories to tell? The week before I would travel, a British model, Kate Price, aka Jordan, a woman who is only popular because she has managed to plant over-sized watermelons in her breasts, had launched her new book.

This was her third or fourth in less than a decade. It is strange how a sex-consumed woman who could fart into a microphone on television could write or get a book written for her. Her society must have helped her a lot. Notorious buffoons and drug junkies like Pete Doherty have managed to immortalise their buffoonery in the form of books. And their fans would always buy their books and read them.

This provided an opportunity for me to pry into Ofori Amponsah’s private life. He may have a simple and an unassuming exterior, but he has gone through the vicissitudes of life, like every man and has taken some hard decisions at different stages of his life. He had not been born into a world of luxury but he was lucky to have had parents who appreciated the value of education. He had received some very good formal education to an appreciable level. And that came across quite well in our interactions.

He had not stumbled into music the way some of us have necessarily had to make do with what we could muster; he had felt the natural need to sing, the way leaves come to a tree. So, his songs come across very naturally.

I asked him who is the inspiration behind his songs, and his answer was revealing: himself. He believes in peoples’ ability but his inspiration comes from within: the everyday issues in society. His association with Charles Kwadwo Fosu-Daddy Lumba-in the earlier stages of his career, had helped prop him up. He has not looked back since. Being himself also means that he doesn’t dress to please anybody.

I asked him if he was wearing braids to identify with a role model, and he had explained that he looked up to God for the enablement and he is also his role model.

This had led to my next question: do you have plans of singing gospel? ‘My songs seek to edify and glorify the things of God. Everything we do is in appreciation to our creator,’ he had submitted, waxing religious while remaining noncommittal. He has defined a direction for his songs, which he arranges and produces himself. He sings to educate and to entertain. Sometimes, it to caution and advise. Anyhow, there is always a message for everybody.

Of course, anybody who is all for real would need a lover to appreciate that reality. I was curious to know: who is that lucky woman in your life? He was quick to answer that there is a special woman who has remained caring and supportive for so long. He mentioned her name but the plane was just about taking off, so I couldn’t catch it. Surely, she would have a chapter to herself in the book, for real.