Village boy Impressions

Oh blessed of days that did break!  When God appeared in form of man,  To suffer worldly scorn for love’s sake How shall we celebrate your breaking?   He left lofty throne and palace above,  To wear our very human frailty,  And bear the pains of abject penury;  That He may cheer a gloomy world.  How shall we celebrate Your Name?  Oh creator God turned creature,  To bear the affliction of Your creation,  Rejected, despised and reviled by same;  And yet turn not from bitter cup to drink  Nor bid Your just vengeance to rise,  But looking through Mercy’s eyes,  Did forgive all with bountiful love.  Clap for joy all you verdant creation. Mosses and giant oaks, sway in dance! He who in brilliant green did cloak you, In humble form comes to play in your shade, And your perishable fruit with relish to eat. Sing out you sullied streams of the land! Who with crystal clear waters filled you, Comes now to wash and cleanse you again.  Rejoice you p

I am but a pin in this strangling place; A manic world drowning in sensual excess. Yonder lies only shameless opulence, And here, shameful squalor and discontent Where cats eat mice and cheese  And the mice must eat other mice. Each day I jostle with the thousands  In the sweltering noon sun at Nima With hands and breast,  I must heave and cleave, The foundation of new mansions at Ashongman Must push and pull truck and cart Through Kantamanto and Mallam Atta And nudge my way through the  madding crowds At Ashaiman and Agbogbloshie  Till I hear the clink of copper in my pocket  Or see the precious red paper at hand To buy only stale bread and pure water, Pay one macho man to ease myself, And another one to wash, And the rest to an indolent landlord  at Sodom and Gomorrah Whose only estate is the half-rotten kiosk Where at the coming of darkness With my legs as heavy as lead, My muscles sickly with fatigue And all my joints disjointed, I suffocate with eight brothers fro

The sun is searing hot Hurling down fierce fuming rays.  Earth roasts under his angry gaze  As meat over blazing coals.  Everything bows in submission  Men, birds, beasts, and beetles  Trees, shrubs and every blade of grass  Droops in defeat and compliance. On this sweltering March noon ablaze Upon a deserted path in defiance , A solitary figure lumbers on. Bent forward with a stern grit, with A double load of wood and flesh, Labouring on, towards The distant din of a village market! Read:  Village Boy Impressions  -  Fathers A mother, with her mewling infant And a hefty load of firewood Trudging to the market To buy salt and pepper  That she may feed her family! Her man, probably lounging in a bar Had shoved at her a basket of millet With nothing else for soup. She had gone to the mortar To thresh that millet with sore palms And upon her grinding stone  Milled it all into flour. She went to the river with a big pot Till all the bigger pots at home brimmed over.  But

It was a beauteous night, dusty and cold  And we were all mum and droopy  Whilst the preacher droned on  And the rest of the world lived on  An expectant harmattan swirled around  As stemmed waters must feel bound  Yet gyrating as one tickled in erogenous places  On and on and on towards the climax  The cold outside threatened to come in  And we held our sweaters to ourselves  As we gazed at the clock ahead  Inching ever closer to the new year  Suddenly everyone’s tongue was loosed Everyone’s voice was lifted in praise And sang in generous grateful tones As we leapt in joyous ecstasy Turning round and about  We embraced and hugged and waved And with beamish smiles Hailed each in greeting..." Bein paali !*" Life and beauty poured out as at sunrise And my secret heart glowed with love And gratitude for life, family, friends Oh that the singing would never end! 17th January 2019 Accra. *Bein paali - Happy New year! You can also find this poem and other poe

“Tugurika tom-mu! Tugurika tom-mu!  Bai le kuli, bai kan kuli   Piema zik chaab ka dela”!   Ti koma jam pie wiisanga ayi ka dila   Ba le Babatu kpalinsinga dila po dila po   Ate ku teba nyin-biidi, ate ba chiib zaani anag de   Taa me jinla za tugurik ka choa pielim po   Da-bienga a kum fiin fiin, pieminga a feri kak! kak!   Ti mabisa ale ti kobisa alo jata jata a gilim ti,   Ba ziimu a chale tengka meena se benangsa la   Alege kperi san kperi, ti deem ze dachiaka jigiya   Abi ntaamu aweini ka ti tong wa le piema   Yaase ti che wa ale laasa.  Ka jinla le jin.  Have you read:  Village Boy Impressions - Topsy-turvy ?  (“See the armies file forth Some will return, many will not For here, iron meets iron”! Thus, our fathers sang with the flutes In their battles with Babatu long ago Drawing strength and courage to emerge  victorious. In our day we stand in another battlefield The bullets are hissing by, and a rrows are finding their mark. Our mother’s children and our fathe

Mother Africa, beloved mother  How glorious in bloom you lie,  Beaming in the early morning dew.  Silent, peaceful, enduring, content.  Though some have named you dark,  Ever brightly your dark skin glows!  To others exotic, distant, remote.  Yet to us, there is no place more home  Many have called you wild and untamed.  Yet none is more accommodating.   Quietly you birthed and nurtured a humanity   That turns round to call you ‘discovered’.   Ever your charm, grandeur and enigma.   Are these the joys of your motherhood?  Have You Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Topsy-turvy? From the chalky desert of Egypt, so ancient,   To the frozen peak of Kilimanjaro, so majestic.   From the simmering Nyiragongo, so feisty,    To the Devil’s pool of stupendous Victoria  Rightly did the enchanted Livingstone speak;  You "must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight".  From the colourful salts of the Danakil,  To the Table mountains of Cape Good Hope.  The vast plains, moors and fer

What agony to listen to the news in Ghana  What torment to hear the uneducated literates babble!  Televised news turns food into ash in my mouth.  Prejudiced narratives that only show the north,  As a people most incomprehensible; Skeletal mothers with drooping dry breasts,  Babies strapped with tattered rags to aching backs,  The distended bellies of bony orphans,  The starved faces of scruffy toddlers,  Desperate youth trooping out to survive,  People slaughtered  in senseless wars,  Forests razed to the ground, Poverty, hunger, disease, death.  So has the West defined and cursed Africa: One country, one people, one story And so we do to ourselves now. Have you Read:  Village Boy Impressions - The Joys of Mother Africa   Ghana, are you so gullible? To be so bogged down With such naivety,   Such thoughtless generalizations , Such vulgar labelling, Such single stories; That the whole north is but a village, Is too hot and far away, That ‘northerner’ must be a tribe, Unable to speak for