Village boy Impressions

It is almost midnight, 31 st December 2017. I am jumping and shouting in church with millions of others worldwide or at least in Ghana. Saying thanks to God for seeing me through the year 2017. After more than 30 minutes of jubilant praise, we settle down for the final blessing. As the priest raises the monstrance with the body of Christ to bless us, a lady beside me sighed and said: “At last we say goodbye to this horrible year”. I turned to look at her and realized she was breathing heavily, and sweating profusely from ecstatic dancing and shouting. I had just been doing the same thing and I was also breathless and feeling wet and sticky under my sweater. I had put on a sweater because I was afraid it would get cold as the night wore on in this harmattan season. Indeed, many others were dressed like me. Yes, we knew our weather well but we had underestimated how ecstatic and boisterous our celebration would be once the hour arrived. So, all the ceiling fans were in full swing and

I heard a man had a dream once It was a bold dream And they shot him down cold Dreams are dangerous things! I also had a dream, once It wasn't a bold dream And I woke up sweating; Dreams are scary things! Why ever do we dream? I ask. Read: Village Boy Impressions -  Fathers Yet how may we sleep If we cannot dream? And how may we live If our dreams be quenched? I say, let us all dream... Let the children dream; And let the elders dream What does it matter If we shoot at God and miss? Dreams are the salt of life Without them, life is tasteless, Worthless, pointless, stale I should be glad of an early grave! Read: Village Boy Impressions -  My First Snow

All tattered and battered it stands Its unkempt walls lay prostrate In obeisance to the earthly force. Yet once, it was high and mighty Or so we have been told. With strong encircling walls Filled with strong women and men. The cries of infants and the laughters of children Ever resounded in it. Now it lies broken, bleeding, untended. Where are the happy children? The crying infants? The strong men? The diligent women? They have vanished like smoke, All their pride and dignity forgotten. For nothing scatters a house Like bickering and strife Separating blood from blood And root from stem In vanity, avarice, and envy.

HEALTH: 1.        Drink plenty of water   2.        Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar   3.        Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants   4.        Live with the 3 E’s – Energy, Enthusiasm, and Empathy   5.        Make time to pray   6.        Play more games   7.        Read more books than you did last year   8.        Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day   9.        Sleep for 7 hours   10.    Take a 10 – 30 minutes’ walk every day. And while you walk, smile.  PERSONALITY: 11.    Don’t compare your life to others… You have no idea what their journey is all about. 12.    Don’t entertain negative thoughts on things you cannot control; Instead, invest your energy in the positive present moment. 13.    Don’t overdo. Keep your limits. 14.    Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does. 15.    Don’t waste your precious energy on gossip. 16.   

       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