Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 30 (18+)

He gave him our price and he paid like a natural mutual understanding between them. Alejandro pushed me out and into the waiting vehicle. We headed off obviously to my house and I was baffled at his calm demeanour. I wanted the corpse to be properly buried in the least to lay the poor girl to rest somehow but he said it wasn’t necessary. I could not hold back my tears as I thought of her family back home. She was my responsibility and should not be dead, not through that horrible means. I thought of the pain she must have suffered before her untimely death seeing as a snake was forced into her vagina. It couldn’t have been funny in the least. I would have had a cardiac arrest too and probably felt the lowest point in the word “useless”. Alejandro couldn’t stop laughing. He believed the way I punched the Minister was funny to my chagrin. I saw a man who cared not about the death of another human being and queried him but he simply shrugged: “Death is now a normal thing to me, especially if it is a worker. They die everyday and sometimes you must kill them to stay safe. Death is for everybody so why bother?” His Spaniard tone had an air of truth that not only baffled but also annoyed me.
I felt a whirl of anger rise from the bottom of my stomach, take hold of my head, forcing me to attack him. We nearly landed in an accident. He forced the vehicle to a stop, blocked his face as I punched any part my fists fell until my mind showed me the video of the cruel murder of a white man. One who died by my hands, skin peeled, knife pierced uncountable times, words taunted and haunted for hours and eventually butchered. Ken; the brutish man who degraded me to a sex mate for a dog! I stopped abruptly and cried louder. A voice told me I had a good reason to kill that bastard and I was in no way as corny and ritualistic as that Mexican Minister. But another reminded me that death was death after all. Alejandro sensed my confusion and multiplied hurts and held my calmed and miserable self. It dawned on me that we as humans are quick to judge but conscience is sometimes slow to remind, and when it reminds, we feel the sweat of dirt, unwholesomeness, silliness pouring down the souls of our bodies thereby angering us into self blame. The pain did not subside for me, the fact that it happened made me wish for a place to bury the ordeal after all, many deeds of humans to fellow humans can be deemed murderous too. It just was a matter of relativity.
I sulked at home for three days, woke up and looked for my phone to check porn sites for humans who sleep with reptiles, something I had never done, and I was frighteningly surprised. Some women actually feel pleasure in sleeping with snakes. Your shock is as valid as mine was. I stared at my computer screen for hours and told myself “I truly have seen it all this time”. As I was still contemplating the doability of the act with fearsome goosebumps all over my skin, a call came through my emergency line.
I rushed to one of the girls’ dormitories only to find Nako, one of my girls, dumped naked with her breasts and vagina each partly chewed. I was terrified. I asked for a blanket, gathered her in it and rushed her to the hospital without thinking. She was rushed to the theatre as soon as we entered. Nako had tried to tell me something before collapsing on our way to the hospital but failed to make even a whisper audible. I wondered what could have happened to her; animal bites? Some canker? A curse? An infection? I run out of guesses.
I felt a tap on my shoulders as I impatiently waited after eleven hours to hear some news from the doctors, turned and saw six policemen breathing down at me. They told me I was under arrest but I didn’t know what it was for and before I could say anything, or ask anything, I was pinned to the ground like a destructive mad person or a hardened criminal. The dragging on the bare ground into their terribly hardened-prison-like vehicle was not as frustrating and painful as the Spanish they spoke which made no sense to me. I felt like a Mexican garbage left for days with spoilt slimy foods therein. I wanted to scream after asking them to tell me in English what my crime was to no avail but restrained myself and got shut into the van with no windows. It was a very roasting long drive to the station.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March, 2018.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

BE LET TO GROW (AGAINST CHILD MARRIAGES)

There are many fruits which fail to mature
On their mother trees
Mama, I don’t want to be one of such fruit
I need to be sheltered when storms break
Need to be covered when the rains come in
Need to be pampered when good air visits
And to feel the matured company
When the sun sets in
Oh papa, I want to be ripe before the pluck

II
For poverty sake
Mama, give me not out like a token for a feed
For I can mature and be the pot whose water never dries out
For debts sake papa give me not out as your once peace of mind
For I can be that wealth
The future prepares for you
For societal tongues sake
Uncle give me not out as a clearance of gossip
For I can be the star of this home
When my future is left for my studies

III
I am in no rush for a crash
I am the flower who wishes to bloom into beauty
My future is in my hands and not in the hands of any boy or man
Until a job finds me in a good salary
Marriage is the vehicle I wish not to enter
So help me mama
Help me papa
Help me uncle
Help me auntie
For I am a child
And marriage is a cloth meant for adults
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 27, 2018

JERKS OF HEARTBREAK

There are clawed fingers
Which scratches the core of the heart of loving souls
Plucking out happiness and planting sadness
Leaving the future bleak and eyes red

II
They come in their horrid varieties
Slow or aggressive
And take over the senses in helpless lenses
Take over muscles in fearful pulls
Take over shame with spittle so lame
Forcing teeth to bite their bosom friend; tongue
Contorting bodies until their arrests end
To the shame of the innocent model

III
Not contagious they say
But burns out friendships like fires in dry hay
Able to be handled
But squeezes out young brains like water in a towel
Not a spirit
But harms hearts like the harmattan’s touch on fertile trees
Those blessed not to have witnessed might comfortably chuckle but
Dear epilepsy, you are one of death’s most vile agent
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 26, 2018

EBONY GOES HOME

Daring was her nature

Beautiful was her stature

Much talent was hosted in her bubbly frame

The head of youth popping out of her character at every juncture

Defying norms and soothing ears

Representing her in the past tense makes me tense

Yet a greater hand has beckoned

Who is this mouth to ask why?

II

Her clock stopped before her birthday station

And her loss halted a whole nation

Half of whose mouths whipped in critical damnation

A beautiful bloom broken into our doom

Ebony, the blackest star which centered the musical red, gold and green

III

Home is where all our ends rest

As you go, come back rejuvenated

To change many more status quos

To touch more lives

To show the world how to live in fitting individual skins

To smile brightest and laugh loudest

In the black apparel nature gave which many blessed souls want changed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 24, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THIS FACE WE BOOK

This Face we book

Has many pages to flip

Beautiful pictures to look

Opened relationships to zip

Different recipes to cook

Vulnerable seams of souls to rip

Many addictions to hook

Many tears to in sympathy drip

II

In its town, many a secret sit naked

Many a bomb lie unclothed

Many a lonely heart roam veiled

Seen by bright eyes with no sight

Yet, many a stars are born on these streets

Many a thief, duly caught

Many a heart cruelly broken

Many a voice, rudely shut

Should mention be made of the much shame

Sprinkled on self portraited flowers and beaks?

III

This Face we book

The Twit we ter

This Insta we gram

This Link we in

And their brothers and sisters we display

Are theoretic worlds of us

Living in our arts

Making us gods in our own rights

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 24, 2018

THE STOREY OF YOU (FOR WORLD POETRY DAY)

I came to you straight from life’s hellish oven

With a soul brutalised and so very grief shaken

I came to you like a tired lamb

With my neck in offering

On feet so rebellious because of needs and pain’s whips

You held me, soothed me, and magically mended my callouses

Like a gentle ice on a burning wound

II

I sat in you with a shattered heart

A clubbing head with a vengeful hat

But days drained it all in your powerful words

Every ink cleansing my bleeding soul

Every hugging word exorcising my anger

Every line planting sanity in the dessert of my brain

Every stanza planting humanity in the pores of my skin

III

I lived in you like a fool turned tool

Yet you used me not as your stupid bull

But as a blessed head linked to a flowing hand

Mending my name from the dents of shame

Strengthening my muscles for battling rings of life

Shaving furry out of my hurry

Oh you mystical angel in an art!

IV

Purity in you is my loving find

Love of you is carved in my grateful mind

You are the piece of peace life has given

On my famished chaotic plate

That cool rain in my days of drought

So I will forever worship your existence:

P-O-E-T-R-Y, goddess of my artistic musedom!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 21, 2018

WOMEN ARISE (For International Women’s Day)

There is a reason beauty was given to most flowers
Along with their fragile nature and protective thorns
There is a reason they are nectared to feed many beaks and winged livers
Amidst the storms, rains and suns
And through their bruises, beheading and rots
I wish the creator spells it out

II
There sure is a reason love’s ironed ends
Reside in soft, warm, malleable femininity
With its sweat of tears
Surely, the creator is a skilled artist
Who knows the recipe of life’s nature and nurture
And which craft best fits caretaking
Even though we live behind the hidden reason
Let’s take the nature challenge

III
We need to rise
To be the world’s best sunrises
Shining off societal ills that handcuff our progress
We need to shine our love
On the darkness of yesteryears
To clear blinded eyes to see our best covered by society’s prisons
We need to lead with empathy on our sleeves
Even through tough times
To be lotuses in this murky mud called earth
We need to break the yokes of self doubt
Forgetting what arrested and forging through what enlightens

IV
No blame ever harvested fruits to feed a soul
No shame ever dressed a being with gold
No tears ever bathed a heart to be hurt free
No bitterness ever dusted hatred in harmed beings
No attack ever resurrected deaths of prides
None can tell our own stories like us
So arise in your awesomeness
Lead in your rights in gowns of perfections through respect and care
For you are flawless creations
Only flawlessly flawed by love and its deflections
To take on challenges like lozenges in our cold world
To share the covered smiles to flutter hearts
In evenness
To make life’s ride a pleasure for all
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 8, 2018

STAKES (FOR GHANA’S 2018 INDEPENDENCE CELEBRATION)

There has been a crawling baton
Since Nkrumah’s power run
In leading change
Still, we live through the smiles of moderation
In the ills of corrupt adorations
Gunning for greed in place of fertile seeds
Hating on whistleblowers in place of their hailing
Accepting crumbs for much sums
Never calculating the future’s profits in kind
And always thinking in the now
Yet we flow with sunrises thanking God
For trees which beg to be made into furniture
Suns which beg to live in the dark
Foods which tell tales of serving in cans
Seeds whose end products could give us much

II
From the rich cocoa lands
To the rich mineral lands
The fertile grounds to the strong beings
Right to theories left without practicalities
Fingers finger holes of darkness around the light
Yet hope glares
From its tiny corner
Hoping its pupils will be caught in the rays of ambition
To give excelling opportunities
To this royal dressed like “Korean Candy” and
Placed right in shrouds of development

III
We will figure it out
This chemistry of harmonisation and time consciousness
We will figure it out
This physics of nation building and work consciousness
We will figure it out
This art of syncing to the tune of success through hardwork
We will figure it out
This mathematics of development
Through the Woyomic confusions
To the Gyeeda embarrassment
Through the uncountable judgement debts
To the carnivorous roads
Through our shaking lights
To our here and there waters
Clothed in our love for culture and ourselves
We will figure it all out
The mass wealth with no formula for end products
For we are combinations of the best colours there are
Blood, minerals and green vegetations
Whose middle hosts the brightest blackness
With a general shine
For we are miracles by birth
So shackles are not unbreakable
We are the Gold Coasters turned Ghanaians
And proudly so
Long live Ghanaians
Long live Ghana
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 6, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics