Village boy Impressions

Some things were never meant for fences, never meant to be still. They belong to wide horizons, to open skies and places without names.   The sun on skin, the wind in hair, thunder in the distance, dust beneath hooves, riding where the earth has no fences, where the horizon stretches on forever.   There is something untamed in it, something the world could never quite contain. And still, somehow, a smile can make everything feel like home.   So ride on, beautiful one, through every field, every sunset, every dream. I’m simply grateful that in a world this wide and wild, I somehow found you, Atenglie*.   And I love you.   Banjul 11/09/26. * Atenglie is a Bulsa name for a girl which means "Daughter of the Earth" or "Child of the land"

The Lord is good to me, And so I thank the Lord For giving me the things I need: The sun, the rain and earth beneath; Yes, He’s been good to me.   I owe the Lord so much For all He’s brought me through– The days I thought would swallow me, He carried me clear through; The Lord’s been good to me.   Oh, the boy I used to be Could hardly dream to see How far the Lord would carry him Through all uncertainty; Yes, He’s been good to me.   Oh, I was raised ‘neath wide, wide skies Where harmattan winds blow, Where baobabs stand and suns still rise, And stubborn seeds would grow.   The cockerel called at break of dawn, The goats would wander slow, The scent of earth when rains returned– His faithful mercies show; The Lord is good to me.   I wake up every day As grateful as can be, For though my work has changed with time, His goodness stays with me. He watches over all I love and do; Oh, the Lord’s been good to me. 23.05.2026 B...

The world hit a wall in the spring of that year, School gates were shut, every breath tasted fear. Classrooms stood silent, the playgrounds were still, And private in teaching meant pockets were nil. They halved what he earned just to keep afloat, And he gripped tight the wheel of his shaking boat. But she that he loved didn’t see the world’s pain, She saw some dark secret; she swore he must feign. She drank in whispers from a false pulpit on high, Traded their sworn truth for a prophetic lie. With three little children and chaos within, She opened the door and ushered the devil in— It wasn’t long till he was living a lie, He watched his name slowly wither and die. Her words painted him guilty all over the town, While he fought just to keep from going down. The mistake was not COVID or the money they took, Her heart was a field where all rumours took root. Where trust could not live, and love could not stay, And fault-finding habits just pushed all respect away. But t...

Morning hums low across the northern plain , And in that peace, I think of your grace . Your voice is like the hush before the rain A calm that cools the heat of the midday sun. You’re like shea trees that bless the open plain, Soft in their shade, yet firm as in their root. Barefoot in thought, yet bold in all you do, You carry joy the way the North holds sky.  Not loud – but deep, like truths the elders knew , A quiet fire that even storms can’t dry. You shine without intent or need to show, Your laughter smooth as shea butter on skin. I ask for nothing – only space to see The wonder that quietly shines through you.

This morning’s gold was not the sky,  But you - riding past King David’s Junction I saw you,  Turning the road into a quiet swoon  And I - just watching - forgot to breathe,  The sun rose gently, knowing its place;  It couldn’t outshine your grace. 29 July 2025. 

I tried to speak –   But every word fell backward into the pit of my chest. My tongue, tied with velvet ropes , could not utter a sound. My eyes, bound by that enchanted beauty , refused to look away. I could not ask, She did not answer. Yet in that hush, Everything passed between us –   like cool air through open windows And in my heart butterflies  danced.     No vows were said. No sonnets were spoken Only the thudding of my ribs, Sounding like mighty blows Each beat a quiet confession of love I could not articulate. In the stillness, My gaze wrote novels Her heart read like scripture .     When she walked right past me, The world returned in whispers – The birds resumed their song, The clocks remembered time. But I remained undone. My feet moved through air, My breath still caught in that space between almost and never. I stared with nothing in my hands, But everything in my he...

At home, the fires are in the fields Licking up twigs, herbs and every blade of grass Leaving a bleak blackness everywhere The fires eat the land at home   They came one day in the heat of noon while men rested Racing through the cornfields And licking through the rice farms, The sorghum , soya , and late millet The fires eat the land at home How sad a thing to hear the wailing of women And the mournful sighs of grown men, Calling on the gods to save them From this monster of their own making The fires eat the land at home!   Analim stands in the middle of his field With his two sons, sweating from the heat His hands on his head, in despair Frantic efforts with neem branches and buckets of water Could not save their burnt crop The fires eat the land at home The women are weeping mournfully, If only tears could quench the blazing fires But alas, the ancestors and the gods are silent  And the flames of hell have broken out E...

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 w...

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...

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 po...

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 ...

“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 ...