“Y’ani abre, y’ani abre kↄↄ

Y’ani abre, y’ani abre kↄↄ”


Chant demonstrators who in years past sang


“Onoaa n’ἐko oo, Ↄnoaa n’ἐko oo

Onoaa n’ἐko oo, Ↄnoaa n’ἐko oo

Obiara nim sἐ ἐyἐ ↄnoaa n’ἐko oo

Obiara nim sἐ ἐyἐ ↄnoaa n’ἐko oo”


I laugh in all types of languages

As I watch many pushers pulling

Their representative from his throne to no avail


They sang songs of praises

Fought and bickered

Testified and cried

Of his pious and nice traits of headship

As he spoke softly to mark his gentility


Now it is a mess

As pushers turn hunters

Could it be the fault of the pushers

Or the fault of the pushed?

Mockery galore

Red and black clad and speak of unhappiness

On fat, slim, semi-slim bodies as gates close on development


Mouths with eyes have gained watchers

As they parade propagandists and the aggrieved

Mouths with ears have gained ears

As they merge voices like oil and water

And accusations face counter accusations

To the fascination of ears


What a spectacle!

Uniformed look on wanting to join

A nation turned drama

Wanton thoughts, curse of indifference

I’ll still sit on the fence.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


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