A Tale of Buluk

Fifteen villages share the land

And more if you look closely

They till it, mould it, build it

And call it Buluk, home.

The children have dispersed far

Many no longer remember it,

At least not in the old fond way.

They do not know its history

They do not speak its language

But the old blood runs strong.

Its fire burns in their hearts,

They want to know; and

For them the land tells its tale:

 

"I have lain here ages uncounted

Before ever a foot trod upon my back 

Or men spoke with voices, and

I have seen and known much 

That none now knows or remembers.

But I would have you know, that,

Once I was a far green country,

Without border or path or hamlet.

Countless streams fed by steady rains

Coursed through my valleys,

Filled with innumerable fishes.

Spectacular creatures and extinct monsters,

Roamed across my woodlands;

Gigantic buffalos and mammoth-like elephants,

Giant reptiles and the mysterious Sivatherium;

The moose-like giraffe named Shiva’s beast.

And numerous mega-herbivores that snacked  

On the lusty green shrubbery across the

Rolling hills of Adakurik and Kanjarg pung!

 

Long before the hare did all his mischief,

And the hyena all his foolishness,

When there was no Sandem or Kanjarg

And there was no Buloa or Mampurik, I was

Home to crouching cheetahs and leopards,

Herds of grazing giraffes, and nimble deer.

Buzzing bees, bats, and butterflies,

Fluttered among bright wild blossoms.

The mighty roar of the lion, and 

The snarl of the disgruntled tiger,

Were heard across my grassy plains,

And birds sang in all my trees! 

 

 Not long afterwards,

The earliest humans came my way.

They pushed through my forest

From North, South, East and West.

They were dark, silent, and inscrutable,

Gird about the loins with leaves and

Their babies drank from bare breasts.

With my stone and wood, they crafted tools,

They gathered my plants for food and herbs,

Netted my fish from unsullied pools,

And fought their kind with flint and javelin.

Then forced on bloody feet, they

Forsook me without a name,

Seeking new beginnings,

And I was left to recover alone.

 

I remember like yesterday,

When your progenitors trooped in

Settling here and there in clusters, 

They coupled and peopled my plains

Themselves, they called Bulsa, 

In their Buli tongue, and

Me, they called Buluk, home.

So at last I had my name! 

It was then the villages sprang up, 

Who tilled, and molded, and builded me,

Hunted my hares across the grassland,

And chased all my antelopes away. 

From across the Sisili and Kulpawn, 

Expanding kingdoms threatened, 

But they defended my borders 

With bows and arrows, axes and spears.

From the North, raiders on horseback, 

Plundered them for slaves and cattle, 

And valiantly they spilled their blood for me.

Then arrived the pale men from the south

With smoking muskets and booming canons

They pushed the slavers out and took charge",

"And that is where your history books begin"1.

Tamale.

23/04/2022.

1 The River's Tale by Rudyard Kipling 

Other Poems Celebrating the North of Ghana

The Seasons at Home

The Baobab Tree

On Behalf of the Trees

To the Lizard, an Ode

Harmattan

The Song of Atuga

Halting Words for Nab Ayieta Azantilow I

Collecting Termites

Bird Scaring

Tethering Goats

Gleaning Groundnuts

Cracking Groundnuts

Farming Hymns

The Mighty Abelikpien

The Call of the Stream

Feok - the Hallowed Festival of the Bulsa

The Morning after Feok

The Wailing Bride

The Matrimonial Dance

Unsung Heroines

A Moonlit Night

Village Songs

The News in Ghana