Village boy Impressions

  They call her North who know her not or prefer the bliss of their own ignorance. Not I, and a million assorted voices Speaking a thousand tongues of men Whom she nurses in her fertile valleys And dandle on her rolling grassy plains We call her, home...   Land of many colours and contrasts; A vast desert of dusty brown in off-season; Battered black and broken with wind and fire.  But wait the rains in their time,  And yonder before us lie verdant valleys An endless stretch of wood and grassland, Amid which countless streams run, Sparkling in the sweet morning air!  In cultivated fields, women and men, daily Rejoice in the dignity of their labours, Children hop and play around every homestead, With unfeigned childhood delight and innocence. Herds of lumbering cattle graze across lush plains And what a delight to the eye to behold Every flower and blade of grass with pleasure,  Enjoy the very air they draw! My heart leaps at the sight of the meadows! The warmth of the breeze heals my he

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

From the east, a golden-sun  rises proud and majestic, Shining in all brilliance and delight. His rays strike with fierce-some joy Upon the bare brown earth, with Not a cloud in the heavens to stay them. Energy gushes forth in torrents, Birds, beasts, gods, and mortals Glow with vigour and intent . The Drums sound, the flutes call, The birds chirp, the doves coo, Goats and sheep, rams and bulls Bleat and moo in joyous ecstasy. Kids and calves bray and fray  Smoke rises from cooking places. It is Feok! A hallowed day, a merry day; Bubbly with contentment and laughter. Today we drink, and we eat, We celebrate and  make merry And dance with grace and skill The rhythm of our land. Like one mighty beating heart, The land throbs with graceful steps. The hills ring with voices of song As we recall the valour and skill, The courage and strength, And the charity of our fathers, Who rose against the cowardly Babatu an d his marauding beasts; And slew an

It was not night  or even twilight  but at blazing noon that they came; Men with guns   like gangsters in American films  rode up, and opened fire!  Up into the open air and all around  bullets flew.  People screamed in agony,  blood flowed in the street,  the police officers across the road  did not wait to call for backup  but went straight over the wall  running for dear life.  cry the beloved Buluk!  In majesty, they strolled into Adabiak and helped themselves to cash and goodies. Armed thieves have taken us captive in our own town and neighbourhood Armed tugs rape our land and people, Must we stand like sheep? Cry the beloved Buluk! Protest we did we the youth out in rage and they called us names and took us to court that we did not seek permission.  cry the beloved Buluk! Tell me, you black sheep! conspirators in our rape,  partakers in iniquity. Did these thieves seek permission,  when they stopped us on the road  and took our monies and goods? When they stalked us by day, went

When I was younger,  I was warned August comes with rain  Persistent pitter-pattering drops  Described I know not why as cats and dogs   When I was younger,  I saw rain in August  The vale shining like tin roofing sheets in the sun  And Abelikpien singing a mouth-full chorus  When I was younger,  I danced in the pattering rain with naked feet  Heedless of Mama's caution  Only dreading Daddy's whip  Village Boy Impressions - The Seasons at Home   When I was younger,  I loved to lie awake during the August downpour To hear the vibrating rhythm of the rain On the tin roof over my head When I was younger,  I saw the walls come tumbling in August Walked dank and dicey paths And plunged into the brim-full stream Village Boy Impressions - The Mighty Abelikpien Now I am older, There is no rain, no tumbling walls No singing streams, no flooded vales Only scorching sun and withering crops What can have happened to August? Sandema August 13, 2020

Many Bulsa seem to think that when we ask the question, "How do we say this or that in Buli?", it means they have to think back to some deep and incomprehensible Buli to say what it is. Others also believe that "pure" Buli is old-fashioned words or expressions used in a time different from ours. Neither of these ways of thinking is right. The essence of language is communication and in my opinion, language is what it is at any point in time. It can be likened to a living organism and it develops overtime by making new words and phrases, borrowing others, giving new meanings to old words among other strategies. A friend of mine in good humour, once remarked that "if we take away the French, Greek and Latin words from the English Language, it will become German!".  One of the topics that often trouble many Buli speakers is in relation to counting money or mentioning monetary figures. We therefore, continue our  lesson in numerals today by learning about mone