Village boy Impressions

       The earth was full, the valleys green The plains stretched on from east to west The skies were clear and full of bird song When Atuga rose and walked the land. He loved the plains most rich and fair Bathed by light of sun, moon, and stars. He named the nameless hills and vales He drank from yet unsullied streams He beheld the remnants of the land And perceived them most fair and bold Read: Village Boy Impressions -  FEOK - The Hallowed Festival of the Builsa       The world was fair and less callous In those days before the coming Of mounted raiders and plunderers From the North, the East, and West And from far South over many seas. No stain yet on the land was seen; No axe was laid to the verdant shrub No raging fires to the brown sward No plough had broken the loamy fields All was fair and good in Atuga’s day. Then said he, ‘this shall be my home’ And among the remnant, he abode From them chose he a maiden to wife Dar

          They come in droves and drones Winging wildly overhead at great speed Making straight for the millet crop Standing all white in the fields: The promise of a bumper harvest! Men, women, and kids rise up in arms To defend their labour and sweat Against these marauding birds; These little ravenous beasts, That come whirling and twirling Nibbling, gnawing, and hacking! Destroyers and usurpers, the lot of them! They suck, slurp, and scatter And bring to naught months of sweat. So we howl and yell and scream: Haaaaa! Haaaaa! And curse them all morning Till we grow hoarse and hissy. Read: Village Boy Impressions -  The seasons at home           We all rise before the sun And divide the fields between us Every mother and every father That has toiled in the burning sun Through planting and weeding Now stand guard and ready Keeping a sharp eye on the fields. Every kid in every compound Is armed with a can and a stick And with our shrill vo

       Adan-leeeeeeeeeee! The song cut through the waves of the windy December night. Mother hushes the children as we scramble to the rooftops; straining our ears to hear the song and the news. It is a nuptial announcement But the song sounds faint and far as the gentle harmattan breeze carries the evening voices away. We hush up in fear of missing the name of the newly married man. His father’s father’s name in fact!      The whole house is soundless and still  Awaiting the breeze and the voices To bring home the glad tidings Of the young man who has attained The noble feat of marriage. Excitement looms, hearts skip faster And then acclaim and applause As the breeze turns our way! Names of the great-great grandfathers of the groom are mentioned in song and their appellations are intoned joyfully Poking fun and mockery at competitors Who are told to go and clear farmlands having lost the race to marry the damsel. Read: Village Boy

There is a house, half in ruins At the other end of the village Battered and ravaged by wind and rain Half the walls lie prostrate As in obeisance to an unseen god. The mud roof has fallen through The thatch roof cries for a layer All the timber is rotten with age And there is no gate or door To cover the nakedness of that house If only there was a father to build! Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Once A Giant Walked the Earth     There is a field down yonder Where thick and tall weeds grow And strangle the infant crop; The millet is yellow and dwarfish,  The corn is stunted and cobless,  And the cowpea run podless,  There is no hope for a harvest All are accounted as forage No blade to the sward is laid For there is no father to till!          There is a boy and his sister in the city Their beauty you must look hard to see Their nostrils run like streams Their nails are long and black Flies and all insects go after them They sleep in sigh

Very often, I hear people discuss their childhood and teens with nostalgia. They say they didn’t have as many distractions and were less ‘computerized’ and the world was simple and different from today. I don’t think they had as much fun as I had in my time though but maybe I am wrong. In any case, who can tell? We can only tell what we did with our own time before we passed it on to others in their own time. But I think our time was beyond good. It was bliss! If you think I am bluffing, come along with me for a ride….. We were half naked and never liked a bath. When forced to, we bathed only our bellies. We ate zom in the afternoon, Tuo zaafi with ‘wogta’ in the evening and leftovers of these in the morning. We chewed the millet roasted, and the groundnuts raw, dry, fresh, roasted or boiled. We ate Bambara beans, sweet and frafra potatoes, and the garden eggs in their season. We fished in the streams and ponds with hooks, nets, and traps. When the stream dries, we hunt the

1.        Don't drive like a lunatic; you’re not the only one in a hurry to go somewhere, and can you please stop tooting the horn? It makes the whole place so noisy! 2.        Learn to buy made in Ghana goods – give the Chinese goods a break!  3.        If you work in the public sector, show up to work on time and whilst there, do real work.  4.        Don't church all week and all year round and hope God will solve your real life problems for you.  5.        Don't look down on everyone who isn’t dressed up in fancy clothes.  6.        If you're a police officer stop asking for and collecting bribes – you’re not the only public servant who’s poorly paid.  7.        If you’re a politician, know that your followers also have heads and hearts – they can think and feel, respect them. Read:  Village Boy Impressions: 6th of March 8.        If you occupy public office and mess up, do the honourable thing; please resign or at least learn to say sorry (Mr

1.   Some nights, when the moon is happy  Smiling broadly from its heavenly home.  A small crowd gathers in the yard;  Grandma, mother, aunty and the others  Not forgetting me and three smaller ones.  Akangriba the dog would be present  As is the cat who never quite got a name.  Baba is outside on the dampala [1]  With a neighbour for company   As the age-old ritual is being enacted,  And none can be left out:  A hand reaches into the big bowl  And grabs a handful of groundnuts,  Ka, ka, crack! goes the shells,  Hard-pressed between thumb and index.  Opened shells are clasped in one hand  Or dropped in a calabash nearby  And the ritual is repeated again and again.  Until our fingers ache, we the little ones. 2. Soon we find support in our teeth. A seed or two usually remaining To keep the jaws busy and sleep at bay. When this becomes too frequent, We earn a rebuke or two, And are driven off to our mats, Beside the cracking party, Under the gri