Village boy Impressions

1. Before the rains Burning! Burning!  In still smokeless air,  The land goes up in flames!  Man, bird, beast, and leaf  All stand bowed, brown, and lifeless;  Oppressed by the pitiless sun  Marauding across the naked sky  Shooting fiery darts upon the open fields Like a notorious slave raider.  Men crawl into  kusungta [1]  to muse  Beasts stand motionless beneath ageless trees  And birds quietly nestle in the crowns.  Only bare baobabs and naked compounds  Stand defiant in the fiery scenery  As are the women, indomitable,  Sprinkling ngam [2]  on mud walls  To cure them for  the coming rains Read:  Village Boy Impressions - A Moonlit Night 2. After the early rains Verdant and breathless! All the land is alive and feisty Such a fair sight to behold! All look upon her and wonder. For the land now wears in majesty, The viridescence of the early rains Stretching into the distant horizon. All around, men women and children Are b

Long, long ago, before ever I met you  I knew and loved your intoxicating brew  I dreamed you up, my goal, my aspiration  My pain, my ideal, true to my station And then you came as in a vision Not merely a slavish incarnation  But as faithful as the dream I’d dreamed  In fact, more than ever you had seemed  Filled with such great strength of spirit  And as remote from fake or falsity  As from the sham of tinsel constellations  The real star that lights up the nations !  So pure in heart and so sincere are you  I confess, that as I stand before you,  I am conquered by your very human  Impetuous, gentle loveliness and acumen Oh let the dreamer not condemn me  I fell, for both of us, the joy will be  To know that life's compassion is Much greater than our imaginings. This poem was written and dedicated to a mysterious lady  on 22nd January, 2010.

To everything there’s a season  Or so it is written in the Book  But now that is untenable  In fact, we reject it!  We do everything in the same season.  A time to sleep and time to wake?  No, it is all preaching time  If they sleep or we rest,  We lose collection!  A time to work and time to church?  No, it is all preaching time  There is no time for anything else!

Caught by the snow whilst outside; I was elated 1. Falling, falling, falling all around me  Like shredded cotton, the snow falls  And soon, the ground is a white foam I am ecstatic as a child in my first snow  What shall I do with it now I have it?  I scoop it in  both hands and sniff it  I roll it into a ball and kick it  I hug it but it is too cold!  And soon my hands are frigid  But I can’t let go, it’s my first snow! Soon the whole ground was white 2. I want to roll in it and squeal As the pigs do in the mud at home I want to take it home and say, “Look Mma, water from the heavens; Here, the clouds do not rain; They fall down to the ground!” But then how shall I carry it? No, I will describe it to her But what shall I say to describe it? Mma has no word for this alien miracle. No, I will just fill my own curiosity That is enough for Mma. A snowman was built the next morning 3. Now it’s too co

       “Feed the hungry,” said the preacher,  I listened keenly, feeling my tummy  As my mind raced back to those years  Long, long ago,  When it growled, gnarled and rumbled  And I squirmed in the attempt to hide it But how does one conceal hunger? It is a god-spirit  That possesses mind, body, and soul.  Gnawing, biting, burning, breaking.    The whole frame shudders in response  And the limbs are weak and wobbly The senses become rusty and dull.  All except the nose, yes the nose!  Which can smell the aroma of food  Over a two-mile radius! Read: Village Boy Impressions -  Election Mangana          Hunger makes a topsy-turvy world! Makes the mouth dry, The tongue cleaving to the jaw, The tubes writhing in agony, As if the enzymes work overtime, Devouring all in their path. The postbag cries in agony, With saggy and anaemic walls. Sleep becomes elusive Vision blur, Thinking horrendous, Talk abominable. The world stops spinning,

The sky is bare and barren tonight  The heavens are glorious and starless  Not a single cloud to be seen  A happy full moon shines  In all brilliance and delight.  The land is bathed in her light  As bright and clear as  day.  Read: Village Boy Impressions -  The Wailing Bride The title reads: The Reason Why the Chameleon has a Broken Head All are gathered before the house.  The children are awake and ecstatic  Sleep has vanished from our eyes  With the rising of the delightful moon.  Boys resume the afternoon game of ' socksball ',  The girls renew their  ampe  rivalry,  The little ones driving tin cars,  Others enacting ‘Dada and Mama’ scenes  To the amusement of the real ones.  Later, we start playing ' agbeli-gbeli ',   Yelling and racing round  the huts.  As are the children in other compounds Read:  Village Boy Impressions -   How to Help Ghana and Yourself Inquisitive chickens lured by the moonlight, Have bolted from their house.

Along the main path from the market  A happy troupe of youth stream by  With a prized possession in tow  Amid   excited chatter  enchanting tunes  That pierce the moonlit night  Far and long with a message of hope; A nuptial announcement. 'The great great great grandson Of back into legendary ancestors Has married his sweetheart!' Says the song. Women mount their rooftops  To ululate the singing party  Wayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiii!!!. Read: Village Boy Impressions -   My Sugar Runs Out Often, the enchanting tunes and ululations  Are lost upon one member of the party  The tear-stained  sobbing bride;  The bitter-sweetheart! This teary companion  is  carried,  dragged, or pushed along  Angry, pained, helpless, and wearied.  An unwilling bride treading resentfully  With frequent loud shrieks and sobs  Oblivious of  the excitement  Of her exultant abductors  And their ululaters  from many rooftops.  And they in turn numb to her wishes. The triumphant troup