Okay, so I think it’s immediately obvious that I’m quite peeved. I learned of the BBC Worldservice this morning that a US astronaut, Tim Kopra, who was due to fly into – of all places – space!, has lost his place on the Discovery space shuttle set to take off on the 24th of February.

What a tragedy, yeah? I mean, kids are born with telescopes in their hands these days, and the mantra is still “I want to be a astronaut” in every Kindergarten I know (besides those that are not situated within the United States :-)). We dream our places on board the shuttles of this world, and I admit without shame that I, yes, I, Agana Agana-Nsiire, hope, pray, dream, but more constructively, aim, to go up amid the stars some not to distant day.

So you can understand the grief I felt for Mr Kopra when I heard the news. But then the reason soon came: he fell off a bicycle and injured himself!

What?! Before I rant away, bear in mind that I am a Ghanaian. Many of us have never been outside Accra, let alone the Earth! And you, Mr Kopra, get the chance to go to SPACE! And you go biking one month before the trip!

A! Me, Like I go sit sofa top for the whole month. I no go girrop sef! Self preservation! This be amoral cosmic chastity!

Honestly, I bore. How? You go through all the training, the drills, get qualified, get named for the trip, go biking, and fall down and kill the dream! I bore.

This will not be the best post you’ll read, but charle, if you feel the pain I feel for this man, you may understand why I’m annoyed he’s caused me to have to feel it for him.

So I just thought I’d share my anger with you all. Don’t go biking a month before a space trip! Stay in your house! Jump at one spot every morning to keep in shape. Go to work in a comfortable car (If you can’t arrange a leave).

Whatever you do, make the trip!!! Don’t get left out avoidably.

Alright, I’ve made my point. But then before I leave you just a thought. And this may – actually – will be ethically problematic so do share your thoughts.

What if three days before you die, say you’re 98 years old and very sick, terminally. Doctors say this is it, and you’ve done your will and everything and the family’s accepted it and all’s set for you to go, and your liver is failing and you’ll be gone in under three days. Well what if we strapped you comfortably to your bed, put you on a shuttle, flew you out to space, and then released you in your bed with a week’s supply of food, water and air? Would you like that? Drift along at who knows what speed through the expanse of the unverse, through time, just gazing at stars you will never reach, seeing things and being places no human soul has been before? Then when you eventually died in the middle of your ecstasy, your lifeless body will float along to testify to whatever worlds there are out there of the existence of your race, and who knows, maybe even provide some DNA samples for some scientific analysis in worlds millions and trillions of light years away. Travel lifeless across space and time. What if?

Is it a cool idea, or am I just a sick minded fellow? Ah, I tell you unashamedly, If it could be conveniently arranged, I think I’d like that.

But speedy recovery to Mr Kropa, whatever his injuries are. Next time go to space.