GRANDMA’S STORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF LOVE

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Long ago,

When we sat by the fireside,

And watched our shadowed selves

On the mirrored ground

By the side of the full moon,

Grandma told me to look up

And watch keenly the full moon

Knowing not what she meant,

I looked and told her I saw only a stain of clouds

She smiled and asked me to listen and look well

And I did

II

“Long ago,” she started,

“There lived a strong man

Who was a drummer

A drummer none could compete with

His source of inspiration was his love; Oforiwaa

The king of his village had eyes for this lady

And did all he could to separate the two

Since commoners could not fight royals for women

He decided to flee with Oforiwaa

Fleeing did not help

So he, with the help of a perfect moon,

Made Oforiwaa his

With the slow breeze as their witness

The moon left them, travelled

And returned,

Oforiwaa failed to get her visitor

The god of fertility whispered its presence

In her ears

The whisper was loud and so many ears heard

The King heard too

And called her to book

She failed to mention the name

Of the warrior who brought the visitor

So she was beheaded 

Ofori, her man, was so sad

That he went to speak to the moon

But the moon kept moving 

He looked up and saw a shape like her woman

On the moon

He resolved to join her so he could play wonderful tunes

To keep her smiling

He took his life and joined her on the moon

And yes, they formed the drummer and his woman

He, tirelessly playing his drum

She, pleasantly listening in admiration

That started a revolution of love

Because the village never got the like of Ofori

Who played to tame the gods”

III

Well, her story opened my eyes

For a brief moment, I saw them;

In their perfect happy living

And I asked myself:

Will I ever love like that?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

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