REPUBLICAN CAGE

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We wail

Cursing those we hailed

We hunger

Blaming our thought-heroes for death danger

Maybe we are like a breed of animals

Who stash weeds on thrones, neglecting the propers,

Only to climb with their little strength

To bring them down as foot-mats

II

We are here in the republican cave

One the fearless Nkrumah did weave

Thinking it would be the sword to save

Knowing not it’d be a curse no prayer could peeve

It is now a Goliath without a Dave

Many are leaving, leaving untrained in the sieve

Preferring to surrender to shame than be royal paupers

Throny eyes see them not

III

It will be a cliché if I put down “dum”

It will be a cliché if I put down corruption

It will be a cliché if I put down utilities flying with eagle wings,

Flapping and scattering salaries into injuries and death

What did we do so wrong

To be locked in this humiliating republican cave?

Our only consolations; Blind dances, hospitality and peace?

IV

We live in beauties

But we dine in rots

We know our duties

But we curse our lots

We cry for crumbs

But we live in lots

Agya Nkrumah! I know your grave is burst

Your turnings giving way to your tears of “watch and turn”

V

Republican shame turned public

Scrambling to chase the moving world turned tragic

Heads throw away hardwork thinking magic

When at all will we get the logic?

Hmmmmmmmmm!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

FAITH

I challenged a student who just completed high school to write a poem on faith. I am actually surprised she did this in a matter of 30 minutes:

 

Many find it difficult holding on to me

I am defined as the substance of things hoped for

The evidence of things not seen

I am the best companion in trying times

Yet you tend to be impatient when I am just what you need

My components are peace and assurance

But most importantly hope because without it I have nothing to give substance to

I do grow so like a seed

When I am nurtured

 I became a mighty tree

And provide you with shade under the scorching sun

Faith is my name

Love Nyaaba

HIDDEN FAITH

OMAN MMRATU

 

REFRAIN:

Sɛ ↄman yi bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri me ne wo

Sɛ ↄman yi bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

Firi agyanom ne nnanom akuafo, akruufo kosi aman mpanyinfo so

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

Ei! akwadwofo ei, annuanomu mmratofo ne ɛmfamehofo

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

S3 adwene deda yɛn tirimu yi

Na aso mu w akwantuo toklo yi deɛ

Mesrɛ sɛ yen ndwedwene ho

Efirisɛ efiri yɛn ara

 

I

ɛhↄ nnyɛ hann

Ma ɛhↄ nnyɛ hann

Esum kabisiii  a, ma hɛnnyɛ hann

Esum gyampantrudu a, ma hↄ nnyɛ hann

Na obi amfa mogya anshɛ nsu anan mu

Sɛ sum ka aniwa aniwa hyɛn kyɛ a

Wiase kan kↄ bɛma Ghanaman ada ne nsa benkum so

Enti akuma ne adwene

Mo mfa m’aso ntena sutie agwa so

Na mo ntie akokoa mkwadaasɛm yi bi

 

II

Anyinam a yɛ wↄ amanfo se,  enka efyinam nea enni hↄ

Ayɛ sɛ anyinam a enni annuonyam

Adɛn na aban adwa si yɛ ntamu

Na ano nnyinaa eretwa bↄ no

Wↄ mmre a yɛ wↄ  yɛn kyɛfa?

Kwaku Atta sor fridge de mma nuane a ɛbɛkↄ bↄↄla so

Yɛ sɛɛ nyunyunuunyunu

Ommma fan nnya nahume sima baako koraa

Akwadworↄ  nti, ↄrebɛpue a, na wafa nataade baako atu

Osↄ tv de mma nkonwa wↄ mmre a wↄnni ani

Tumi de gya hↄ sɛ nansa

Ne mpena de anyinam na ɛka banku

Ode anyinam na ɛyɛ froyɛ

wↄ mre a ogya mframa wↄ hↄ

Wↄn mmienu nyinaa wↄ laptopu, tableti,  san wↄ kasatrufoↄ miensa miensa

Wↄn reyi sene wↄ wei so no

Na wↄↄdi nkↄnkↄnsa wↄ foforo so

Na wasan eetwa wↄn ho mfoni de kyerɛ amansan wↄ amanaman so

Me nka wↄn afɛfuo a wↄde anyinam ne internet rebu abrↄfo daa daa

Sɛ ↄyɛ wei nyinaa na sɛ owia a

Na onya anyinam nↄnhwere  du mienu

Na ↄda sum mu nansa a

Na wakↄgyina kasafidie so de aban ayɛ ban ɛɛbↄmu ton ton ton ton

Efirisɛ aban ahantan adane nkantankantan

Ama kɛtɛasehyɛ ayɛsɛ abɛprↄyɛkro a asɛi abɛduasa

Ei! Ma yɛn yi yɛn aniase mpi

Ansa na yakyerɛ yɛn nfɛfo de

 

III

Komla Dzokoto yere tↄn waakye

)ne n’adamfo Akwele a tↄn dↄkunu

Na ɛti faako

Eno Dzokoto tu ne bↄↄla gu gutter mu

Si gutter no ma nsutↄbbrɛ kyere nnipa dane wↄn nsamanfo

Akwele gyae gyae ne bↄↄla gu gu gu basaaaa

Frɛ frɛ  nnwansena a wↄkura  nyarewa  bebree  ba  fie

Dodoo kↄ nsu a ano

Kↄ gya ne nan gumu

Nsunsuanso ba a

Obiara ti keka; ahotieefo ne  wↄn fefo afifo nyinaa

Na sɛ yare  bɛtu atese a

Wↄn agyina mmepsↄ o abↄ dawuro se

Agya aban na ↄde nnyarewa aba

Sɛ aban te sɛ ohuruyɛ a

Ene na yɛn nso tesɛ mprako

Adware ne ntaade biara nni hↄ a ebɛtumi atwe yɛn  afiri fi ho

Oh sɛ anka yɛbetumi ahunu sɛ ↄman yi gyina me ne wo mienu so a

 

III

Mr. Ofosu yɛ ↄhyɛnkafo

Ohyɛnkafo a ↄde charley na  ɛka ne hyɛn

Ode ne hyɛn bɛlɛti adane aiesiede

Ne hyɛn  tyre ho ayɛ trontrontrom tesɛ akwaraa foforo tuho

Sɛ ohunu agya prosini a

Na ↄde cedi mienu ahyɛ ne tumi krataa mu

Na oprosini Mumuni Nunu nso ayi ne bↄkↄↄ ama ne kↄ

Obiara reyɛ bi

Onumonyamfo Brɛnya a wafa sum ase anya contraage so commission

De ama Papa Atia a n’ano tↄ dwamu

Sɛ ↄnkↄbↄ kwan ngu so kootaa

ↄkↄbↄ kwan no a, na wa’gyai ama soru nsuo

Na suronsuo no nso atututu so

)hyɛnkafo Ofosu de mmrika huuu

Na wakↄtↄ amina mu abuafaso akum ne ho ne n’apassenger fo nnyinaa

Afei na Ofosu papa bɛfa puma asu

Akakyerɛ amanfo sɛ aban akum ne ba

Obiara nndwene ne ba no nfomso

Efirisɛ aban ahantan adane nkantankantan

Ama kɛtɛasehyɛ ayɛsɛ

abɛprɛye kro a asɛi abɛ duasa  yɛ wo ne me o

Oman yi yie yↄ

 

IV

Efiri nea ↄwↄ nsa tintinntini a ↄde wura aban sika futuↄ mu

De hyɛ n’afuru

Fa nea ↄhyɛbↄ a ontumi nni so de daadaa akra

Kosi nea ↄyɛ  aban adwuma nti ↄmpɛ adwuma koro

Oman yi bɛyɛ yie a na efiri me ne wo

Agya aban wↄne kyɛfa

Enti mere a amanyↄfo sei wↄ nkasafidie bebree so

Bↄ dawuro de srɛ  abatuo no

Enti wↄn ntumi nfa saa kwan no aa so

Ntu ↄman mma fo?

Obiara a ↄsↄ adeɛbiara a ontumi no, nswɛɛ!

***

Nnwumaguo eetwa ↄman mma asuo

Efi, a adane ↄman mma mmusuo

Kɛtɛase shɛ a adane ↄman mmua nkokↄ buo!

Ne mponkye funu a ɛti nkonwa kɛsɛɛ so

Sɛ ↄman yi gyina me so

Na  ɛsan nso gyina wo so a

Kae sɛ:

 

REFRAIN:

Sɛ ↄman yi bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri me ne wo

Sɛ ↄman yi bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

Firi agyanom ne nnanom akuafo, akruufoↄ kosi aman mpanyinfoↄ so

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

Ei! akwadwofo ei, annuanomu mmratofoↄ ei ne ɛmfamehofoↄ

 

Na efiri yɛn ara

Na efiri yɛn ara

adwene deda yɛn tirimu yi

Na aso mu wↄ akwantuo toklo yi deɛ

 

Mesrɛ sɛ

yen ndwedwene ho

Efirisɛ efiri yɛn ara

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

 

(For the benefit of foreign readers: this poem talks about people who are not patriotic and do things that do not promote the progress of their nation, in this case Ghana)

KNOWLEDGE UNTAPPED! (CRAZY STANZAS)

images

Water left untouched for long, stinks

Foods rebel by punishing noses

When left for long

But some people need plain words

To decipher the little words

From the mouth of this small calabash

II

Knowledge must be a fountain

Flowing for all to see

And filling the holes beneath

Only to flow up and go down again

To restart the cycle

But most three leggeds have turned into one way streams

Oh God!

Aren’t you bored?

III

Brown wilting leaves

Sit on tall knowledge stools

Scaring green ones off the podiums

When their holes are dug,

Prepared and waiting to receive their leftovers

Oh God!

Don’t be bored

III

Is there a school beneath?

No, no no, just tell me

Are there higher institutions and organisations beneath?

There must be!

IV

Maybe, just maybe,

There might be ambitious worms waiting to tap

From knowledge untapped

To spare the brains from rotting

If not, then I can’t understand the waste!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015 

AT THE HEART OF DAGBON

radiantghanaguide.wordpress.com
radiantghanaguide.wordpress.com

Running sweats 

conceived by mating muscles

and mobility in tiredness

***

Chapped skin

like burstings of mud zones

whipped by hot sunshine

***

Palms calloused

like the skin of a rough tree

displaying wares hoping for money exchange

***

You realize nothing is easy

when you see frustrated breath

running through noses 

on their hind legs,

their heat beats that of fires hands down

***

There really are sun whipped beings

You have seen nothing yet

Until you step on the heart of Dagbon’s Aboabo

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

DILUTED

 

www.timeanddate.com
http://www.timeanddate.com

I

Long long ago

Behold and lo

We were in the skies

Flying in blissful highs

Waters were wine

Food were handed to us straight

From the hands of the earth, no bait

And the airs told tales of authenticity

II

 Long long ago

Behold and lo

None cared about covers

Nakedness was famous only to itself

Breasts stood, run up, run down

In enthusiasm telling days it has spent on mountain tops

Hands touched hands

None spoke to assembled metals

Only the rivers and suns showed our shadows

Dances were from hearts, not mind

III

 It is long long ago

Really long long ago

Now fake artificial sit on thrones of originalities

Amoafowaa Sefa © 2015

NOTHING IS FAIR

roll

The tree that is processed

Into toilet tissues

Did nothing to see and feel such horrors

Nothing is fair

II

Nothing is fair

The land which gives us food

Did nothing to carry horrors of its gift

Really nothing is fair

III

One who wants to play and is played

Needs no loud voice in mega phones

Neither doe he need buckets to cry into

Nothing is fair, nothing can be fair

In this twirling ball called earth

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PIETY IN RAMADAN (HAIKU WITH A TWIST)

Ramadan

All ablutions apt

Proud pious people praying

Bow before Allah

II

Aboabo is chaste

Showing good of Ramadan

Abuse? Forgiven!

III

I remember a

Day after Ramadan left

Its footsteps were heard

IV

Abudu just said 

“Shegia!” and his mouth was snatched

By sharp machetes

V

Amina just puffed

And her body was found in

Bosom of gutter

VI

Why can’t you stay here?

Why can’t you stay here forever?

Ramadan please stay!

VII

Stay to roast chaos

In the box of heartlessness

For peace to sit on its throne

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

A RED MAY DAY

Dead goat

“Amoansene

Ayie ase anibre

Owuoyiaw”

Marks of red

Why are we in a red May Day?

Grumbling workers!

Feeding on their skins

Swimming in debts

Roasting in hunger

And fuming in anger!

“Aniwa aniwa abiri biri asoso gya”

II

It is a red May Day

Hearts with hurts’ field day

Hands with canes

Chasing an active dead goat

Whose ghost does hunt

Haunting with vigorous changes

With fingers of magnetism

Attracting coffers of the nation

III

Will we see

Naked buttocks of angry beauties

Dragging through mud

In patriotic duties?

IV

Will we see

Angry hot mobs

With killy weapons

And brave hearts

Evading the Flagstaff house

To finally burn their dead goat?

V

Will we see

Sane thought beings

Planning a good poll coup

To oust the dead goat

And bring a strong work being?

VI

I don’t know

We wait to see

It is a Red May Day

We hope for a White Victorious End

Where we will sing our say

As bones of tiredness

Sleep in rest

On mattresses of satisfaction

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHAT WE ARE

Moving Clouds

We
Working like horses
Can rise like mountains
To look down on the flowing rivers
Of poverty

II
We
Together like bees
Can be highly equipped
To battle alien soldiers

Of corruption

III
When wires of confusion
Develop fingers of wickedness
As fingers of indifference sit on
Other walls in folding
We, can break free if all eyes stand on guard

IV
We are our rains
We are our suns
We are our loud resounding thunders
We are our clouds
We are our shrouds
Why are we our own Frankenstein monsters?
If we can blend
These parts we are
We will gun our haunting frightening lions
And make our habitat fairer than Zion
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

HIS ROLE MODEL

FIR 11307

Boy:
Ataa Ayi is my role model
But I aim for higher
For no soul must get me
Until I retire

Minister:
How dare you?
How can you aspire to be Ataa Ayi?

Boy:
I am now a being with shadowed tongue
What is the difference between multiple zeroed fraudsters and thieves?
Don’t say they kill with weapons
Those who die drinking bad water
Those who die plying horrible roads
Those who die like fowls because of hunger
Those who die fighting each other because of bosses like you
Are more than all who die through Ataa-like guns
Boss, please don’t bow your head
Neither must you call me insolent
Ataa is my role model
Because he is better than all the robbers in suits
Better than religious leaders who travel to hot pant lands
Of choristers in the dark
Better than mouths who talk with coward hearts
And me knowing my passion of being a higher Ataa Ayi
Tells me I can be better
If I am able to clear all bosses
With capital monies relaxing
In Swiss accounts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

LISTEN TO SHEGEE’S NEW TRACK “LET’S GO” FEATURING RASHID METTAL

Shegee Styla
Shegee Styla

Good songs beg for listenership and having listened to Shegee Styla’s new album titled “Let’s Go” I am inclined to share it with all you lovely followers of amoafowaa.com. The song is set in the slums of Accra, Ghana, and talks about the fact that people in the slums also have lives and live lives to the fullest.

It tells of their everyday activities, shows those in the slums have hope and are strong in facing life’s hurdles.

Check it out on Youtube if you are a lover of music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UL4ws7b4-81

(All for inspiring good talents)

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

TWISTING IRONICALS

Teeth of black golds
Please sharpen yourselves on ruthless stones
And get ready to chew
Chew
By all means chew

II
Start chewing from the skulls
Which aim to take you there
Yes, break those skulls
Use your claws to pull them out of their enclaves
Bite to chew the good sense out
Making watchers salivate in pleasurable satisfaction
With thoughts of they keeping theirs to taunt you
By all means chew

III
Chew the hands of healing
The bosoms with hoarding hearts
Which have the keys to your protection
Chew the stomachs whose hunger force productivity
And satisfy your jealous thoughts of nothingness

IV
Chew
By all means chew the thighs
Which host balls playing on horrid fields on your backyards
Crushing the seeds which want to meddle in your lives
By seeking change for your futures

V
Crash their bones
Lick the delicacies thereof
And after you are done with chewing eyes of the seers
Belch as you finish drinking the cool blood
Then enjoy the darkness
Which will join you with every chewing
Don’t grovel then
Brethrens, live off thoughts of your delicate chewings
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

COOKED FROM THE AFRICAN POT?

Asaase Abibire!
Sit on a listening stool
And answer your queries
Maybe, just maybe, you might convince your host

II
Why do you boil egos of your masculines
Until they attain unbreakable statuses in negation?
Why do you create those
Who destroy their earth routes
And kill spirits who aim to make their names immortal?
Of what use is cowried ego which have sluggish hands?
Of what use is the wrong who raise others to love being wronged to your kingdom?
Let’s move to other realms

III
Now answer this too
And don’t keep mute like you always do
Why do you keep hearts of murderers
Who are sluggish and only love to fry, boil and pour blood of their own?
Why do you keep them?
Can’t you swallow them whole and leave this place peaceful?

IV
Why do you allow new ails
Which have voluminous appetites into your territory?
Do you love the horror spectacles you present?
Do you know no shame?
Don’t you get tired receiving blames?
Do you find sympathy and fear for you as game?
And on top of that you keep greedy power hungry rein holders?

IV
You are a disgraced queen
You are a beautiful mannequin
You are a fallen innocentia
You are torture even for pious eyes
You are a nightmare
Just because of a few out of your lot
Learn to shelter your ills
You aren’t the only one with thunderous abominables
Why do you put words in facts
In the mouth of your fans and foes?

V
You keep mute and sit!
Just think of a good way
A good way to solve your troubles
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE GHANA EDUCATION SERVICE CODE OF CONDUCT, SATISFACTORY OR CONFUSING?

The school system in Ghana, to me, is flawed in many ways. So much that many teachers find themselves in weird situations which make no sense and it leaves me wondering. The code of conduct of the Ghana Education Service (GES) is, to me, not clear and does not cover many areas which wake to bite eventually. We talk of the use of mobile phones and GES does not permit its usage but children have smart phones they use crude methods in charging and it is now something no teacher can have control over.

The issue of girls barbering their hair in senior high schools, to me, does not make sense. I know there are reasons like; they needing to study, making them disrespectful, making them attract men etc. I know that many girls in private senior high schools with plaited hair are doing fine. Why must they be made to be conscious of their hair to a point of creating chaos?

As a teacher, I marvel at the trouble surrounding the hair of female students. A girl who plaited her hair and covered it with a scarf saw the senior housemistress and decided to faint for fear of being penalized. So she feigned collapse, was sent to the hospital and later told her friends she did that for fear of being punished. All that drama is not worth it.

I could say students should be “deponked” as some say but that option is not advisable in some schools. Here in northern Ghana, there is a spiritual sickness called “genes”. When they get attacked by these spirits, they go as far as threatening to kill others, harming themselves, physically assaulting others, running around like the mentally challenged etc.  This spiritual sickness is known to be sparked by the touch of their hair by others. They believe these spirits must be appeased; some rituals need to be performed before one touches their hair so imagine what will happen if you touch their hair? And don’t say it is preposterous, even very respectable men pay attention to the girls “possessed by genes”.

I think it is time the Ghana Education Service allow girls to plait their hair instead of making them cut. It does not make sense that the hair of students cause so much attention and makes a national headlines.

With the case of a teacher barring students from writing their final exams because of their bushy hair, we have to think about it in many ways. Many are those who will jump into conclusion and condemn the teacher but there is more to this than meets the eye. I must say that some teachers are paranoid, they are humans and are fallible, some are simply too passionate and become emotional thinking in immaturity that their goal is to discipline so go overboard. These teachers need time to learn from their mistakes and the mistakes of others. The children who were quick to run to the media house just wanted to breed trouble. They could have reported to the administration, and there is the evidence that the teacher involved wanted to just scare them, those who remained were allowed to write their examination. That brings us to the question, is the media fuelling disrespect among children?

I think we have come far, too far that children now see themselves as adults with rights, well rights they have and rights they don’t have. The earlier we think of ways of eliminating issues which can grow to bite, the better for us. I call on GES to revise its code of conduct and clearly state what to do and what not to do to prevent teachers from making fools out of themselves. The elders say “advise the cat but advise the stinking meat too” I wish teachers will know that teaching is patience, we need patience in order to take care of our own children, so of course we need more patience to handle children of others. Whatever we do, we must think of the issue broadly before acting. Anyone who succeeds in life needs to thank one teacher or the other but teachers who victimize eventually become the villains.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

 

 

 

WE WERE AFRIS WHO CAN, NOT AFRAID

map_of_Africa

We were when they were;
Our velvety black skinned ancestors
Think of how nature bathed us
In wisdom
In laughter
In wealth
Wealth so left to sit in protection
Think of our great dances
As we dined with lions
And played with tigers
If only our fingers can meet each other’s
As we take our positive culturic clothes
And don like our properties they are

CHORUS
There’ll be no terror
There’ll be less horror
Fairness will sit fair
As hate gets banished square
Hugging brooms are seldom conquered
If only continental fingers can find each other

II
Weren’t there warriors?
Weren’t there heroes?
Weren’t there more peace
To last the good forever?
All the colours laughed in the natural
Weaving themselves in our culture so strong
Love climbed love
When occasions called love to the test
And veins stood to show their passions
Mouths spoke to ears as eyes mirrored their hosts
When we were in our full regalia
If only continental fingers could find each other

africa

CHORUS
There will be strength
There will be sufficiency
Respect will overthrow slavery of conscience
As knees of former lords bow for our crumbs
Too bad our fingers hurt each other

III
Sites so beautiful
That God did build
Falls so wonderful
That He left here
Mountains so gallant
That God made great
All for Africa
So why the accoutrements like caricatures?
Why do we parody like fake parasites?
Why do we mime the chimes of descendants of oppressors?
Do we need shame to wear boots to kick?

CHORUS
Africa is our continent
Our culture is our ornament
Our lives remain sacred
We need our hands to hold each other
Let’s hold to uphold
Hold to grow strong
Hold to make traitors find their roots
To help our continent grow great and long
Ubuntu: I am because we are
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015ere

HE WHOM SUMMER BURNS

He whom summer burns
Seeks shelters under rivers
When winter’s sun calls for setting

II
He whom winter “pneu-moans”
Stooges under the skirt of summer
Crying fie on winter as he gathers dry woods

III
None needs light to see flames
When darkness sits on its sky throne
“akyekyede akyi” fears no cane
But “akyekyede” fears a cane entering its gates

IV
Guns can kill in
Hands of the demented
As cigarette fire lights
Never caring, in leaves so dry
And cause all to be affected

V
I sit
I watch
I speak
To touch
Though with words bended
Wise ears get the flow
Let those holding the reins
Take caution
Lest, the horse becomes the whipper
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015h

FOR THE GHANAIAN FLAGSTRESS

Thoughts soo advanced
Have descended the stairs of the earth
Hands so talented lay still
Refusing to move, even when danger announces its coming
Theodosia Oko!

II
She married the colours
Red, gold, green with a black star
Mating the gold
And gave perfect meanings
As to why it must flag the Ghana land
But her red now turns blood
Blood not of our forefathers
Blood of hers stopping in her veinly tracks
Yellow turns to her sunset
Instead of our minerals
Green turns to her veins’ poisoning instead of our vegetation
As the black star shows
Her breath gave up hope on her body
And is leading her beyond

III
A feat for a lady
Whose worth was then in the kitchen
If Yaa Asantewaa was hailed as gallant
You are being hailed for your talent
For your intelligence
For your creativity
And for being the perfect messenger of our forefathers

IV
Your footsteps shake our ground now,
Although you lived to the fullest,
But when it enters the gates of the heavens
We shall sing praises
For being blessed with a blessing like you

V
I hope the blood of our forefathers stop tearing
And our green vegetation feed, clothe and bring in income
While the minerals show our wealth
Making us work harder to win their trust
As the star of hope turns to a star of fulfillment

V
Sleep not, wise one
As you join those who toiled
Rest not, creative one
Tell it all to them
And let all ‘dum’ be ‘s)’
Let all long hands stealing from the nation’s coffers be caught
Let all treasoners of the nation repent and confess
Before your buttocks grace the sofas of our forefathers in rest
Mama Theo, Go in Peace
Mama Theo, ‘Yaa w) Ojogbaan’
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CANES OF SANITY

Wisdom,
pull out your canes of sanity
Kingdom,
whip up your thoughts of humanity
Enlightenment,
fire up your thunders of knowledge
To create internal laws
In minds like caves of cannibals

II
Mornings,
sprinkle your light sun to lure sanity

III
Afternoons,
fire up your pins of light to soften
minds as hard as stubborn ‘kaworo’

IV
Evenings,
blow your breezes to pacify softened thoughts
to make our nations
hold hands like the siblings they are
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

MANDELA’S MOSQUITOES

I think a mosquito bit Nelson Mandela
An anopheles mosquito
He caught it
But saw it as waste
If he killed a mosquito which could not give him back his blood
And so he let it be
Such a mistake it was

II
So this mosquito went ahead to breed
And bred barbarisms
Lazy cocoons who blame everyone but themselves
For their woes
And so repulsively rebel

III
They demand for knives
Of those who hold their lives
When all they’ll do is butcher
And can’t save a rat
Oh how shameful

IV
To think that those contouric heads
Have nothing better to show
For the blood they took
Who peacefully let them be
Could it be the mosquitoes are on ganja?

IV
Look at the parasites without plans
Acting like Egyptians hurting Israelites
When they know they have a Moses
Whose ordinary stick can plague their land
Ignoramuses!

V
They are breaking their foundation
What will become of a bowl
With a hole so big?
Like owls feared in superstition but mortal
The south mosquitoes will realise too late
Their flaws when the potent mosquito sprays are set on their territories
Too bad it will bomb them
Together with their regret
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

BRAINS WITH EAGLE WINGS

www.south-africa-tours-and-travel.com
http://www.south-africa-tours-and-travel.com

I wish I can be an arrow

Which could pierce without sorrow

And enter into brain marrows

Of those who cause humans sorrows

But I am like all

They fall and I fall

They call and I call

They stall and I stall

Shadows of shadows of shadows!

And the shadows are painful arrows!

II

What is a fight?

Why do we use claws?

How did we get claws?

We are now lions and lionesses

Tigers and tigresses

Hyenas craving left overs of carcasses

Gloom turns doom before bloom

And farmers blame the working weathers!

We need brains with wings

Brains with eagle wings

Not brains like little bird feathers

If only I could be an enlightenment arrow

On this beautiful velvety black realm!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PRAYER OF GOSSIP

SKIES

God,

I call

I,

Your creation,

Planted on black sands, call

I thought loamy grows best

But apparently, I thought wrong

II

We shine in light,

Oh what beauty!

Why then do mine portray their minds

Like their bodies of doom

Only, the minds shine not but destroy, maim! Kill!

III

God,

I call

And I call through none

But my mouth

Who knows which god sparks fire

On this black sand?

Looking around in fear

IV

Why?

Why do we reason the way we do?

What was used to wire some of our brains?

What is the river that flood our thoughts?

Of what use is a creation so mostly beastly made?

Please don’t say I blaspheme!

V

Just watch the black side

Please watch the black side

Without batting an eye

From carnivorous sicknesses

To carnihumanorous thoughts

Which actually eat souls

And scatter their bodies

In thoughts of poverty psychosis

Oh bestial psychosis!

VI

Never have I seen

A good old man sit

As his roof burns

With lit fire from those from his groin

Without so much as a squeak from him

And I am told you are Almighty Father!

Ironic?

VII

As I look into the sky

Seeing not your face but clouds

I ask that you separate the humans from the savages

On this continent

I can’t be here, seeing all these

Make me a green person instead of black

Make me blue if you like

Make me violet even

And save me the shame of this black skin

If you can’t separate the savages from the humans

VIII

Why? Why you ask?

Because there is no peace

There is eternal unrest

As this chaos subsides

Another rises

This realm sees no calm

It is as though we attract horror

If our thoughts don’t cause it

Viruses and others do

What is Africa?

Must we take the first three alphabets

And add “aid” to define us?

You know it all, I’m told

So what was your plan with us?

IX

Take us or make us think!

Bake us or quench this stink!

Lord, this is a prayer of gossip

And I care not if my name garnishes it

Just act please!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHEN SAVAGE MONKEYS WAKE

I wish my fingers were a huge cloth
Then I could cloth this shame of Africaness
So heads can walk on shoulders
As the filth stays in

II
We are now zombies
Loving our horrid features
On screens of walls
Of those we worshipped
But we cry foul
Citing their brutalities and their monkey tags

III
Tell me
Are we not like monkeys?
Make me see
Don’t mona monkeys fight
When their own lick their females?

IV
Tell me,
Tantrums of burning of the young
Without heeding to screams of stomach quavering nations
Are they not characteristics of monkeys
Who strive to protect their territories?

V
Shame on me
Shame on you
Shame on the fact that such heads still live
Shameful monkeys
Living on empty headed trees
I hope you stay there
And look afar
To fill your heads with wisdom
Of how far the legs of time have travelled

VI
This here is a curse
A curse put on the dancing screens
By scrotums of sluggishness
Wake and dim your ignorantic lights!
And let the humane rays come through
For eyes like ours can barely rise
To meet Masters who Mastered
As common masters greedily pick and get lost behind your gigantic ignorantic fake light
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE SUN SITS

wondroussky.blogspot.com
wondroussky.blogspot.com

Shivers in rivers which quiver
Chanting in rants which amount
Bouncing in announcing which pounce
Twinning alikoto, dancing of Akoto,
The sun sits on the golden stool

II
Tongues of longs so strong
Walking in talks which stalk
Thinking of things which blink
Perfuming prekese
Flying paper kites
The sun sits on the golden stool

III
Flaunting taunts which want
Mounting mounts which count
When odumpong falls, it falls with many
And calabashes beneath never are hopeful
“Nsem pensem a, obia nya na anansesem”
Still, the sun sits on the golden stool
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

 

What South African Brutalities May Spark

With this current news of the xenophobic attacks is hidden chaos that the rioters fail to notice and I’ll go straight to the point.
South Africans are also in other African countries working and owning properties, the message being sent to them is to burn them alive, kill or sack them from their countries, won’t that be war?
Ghana is a very peaceful and friendly country but news got round that David Oscar, one of our comedians, entreated all Ghanaians to stop purchasing goods from South Africans. Hasn’t it already started?
Most of the people creating the chaos in South Africa have no knowledge in any field neither do they have vocations. Supposing other Africans decide to leave with their expertise, what that means is that the country’s human resource will dwindle, leaving the country in loss, can they handle it?
Again, this chaos can destroy the friendly relations between African States and South Africa. That means importations from African countries and help will seize. Can they handle that too?
If this continues, the African Union and United Nations might have to come in eventually, washing our dirty linen in public, must we always be the spectacles of horror?
This will also affect tourism and creation of jobs by foreigners. If up to now you have no ideas let alone a Job and you blame someone trying to employ or help, what can you do when the person’s services are no longer there and you have no ideas as to how to go about creating a livelihood?
There are many more if we think about this issue. It is only a child in diapers who makes a fuss when he soils himself in hopes of someone cleaning his mess.
We have been travelling this independent road for too long and need to clean the mess we create for others to see the maturity. The government is not the president and his cabinet only. The government is not the political parties only, the government is the people, and the people at most. For producing a man who hated aggression and was known as a martyr of peace, South Africans involved should know that Nelson Mandela is tossing in his grave at this very instant. Before anyone chews the hands of a baboon, he or she must watch his own. A word to the wise is enough.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)2015

SCATTERING AFRICA

All are mad
From all corners
Real or fake
Intermittently, we are crazy
Causing havoc and chaos
All over our continent

II
Sea of sacredness
Over the crust of the continent
Under the guise of a great man tsunamis
After he turns his back to rest
Housed under the guise of death

III
And you cruelly go on
Forcing your blood to leave your land
Raping the bond of brotherhood
Insulting the faith of togetherness
Creating fears that  mar
Across sanctity’s greatest forces?

IV
Why?
Why must brothers be burned by bitterness?
Why must chaos arise from sluggishness?
Why is ignorance a king in a mortal realm?
Eyes of heaven watch
With quavering mouth
Let not its angry thunders erupt!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

IN THIS CUE

AMOAFOWAA.COM
AMOAFOWAA.COM

We are in a cue

We will dock when we’re due

There is nothing like immortal few

And there’s no one to really sue

Let the natural tongue speak of life’s curfew

CHORUS

“Mere bi bɛba

Nↄti bɛkↄ nↄte mu

Ama nↄte abobↄ nompe mu

 ɛse bɛguan atua agyaboↄ

Na nↄte akyire nhwi deduam

Onua hwan na  ↄnkↄ mere yi mu?”

II

In this long cue

Some might see the hew

With no regard for souls who mew

As more follow in the new

Once caught, no words can free from the pew

And oh, who cares if all view?

Let the natural tongue speak of life’s curfew

CHORUS

“Mere bi bɛba

Nↄti bɛkↄ nↄte mu

Ama nↄte abobↄ nompe mu

 ɛse bɛguan atua agyaboↄ

Na nↄte akyire nhwi deduam

Onua hwan na  ↄnkↄ mere yi mu?”

III

Who still wants to be a shrew?

When these storms are in the brew?

None knows of the pruning crew

None knows of the hands which the rope did drew

Each from the cue will form its own stew

Let the natural tongue speak of life’s curfew

CHORUS

“Mere bi bɛba

Nↄti bɛkↄ nↄte mu

Ama nↄte abobↄ nompe mu

 ɛse bɛguan atua agyaboↄ

Na nↄte akyire nhwi deduam

Onua hwan na  ↄnkↄ mere yi mu?”

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

New Martyrs Rise

 

When hearts meet fears and flee

And groans turn to songs as dirges

Where brides must sing of joy –

When indigo streaks our faces –

 

***

When stolen voices become

Serial callers with borrowed

Phrases,

Where old plasters cover the wounds

Where real heroes fall

Then new martyrs rise to build

Our history again

 

***

 

Turning back clayfeet in quicksand

Straddling blue ocean and brown earth

When babies turn to hard bones

And thorns,

When the hour hand stands still

And stuck In soldiers’ horns

When new fears rise against the Ashes of hope

Then martyrs rise to build

Our history again

 

***

Books and boots stashed against

The uneven tide

New modes become bridges of time

When gardens brown from stunted Growth,

When stashed cash melts where it

Throws,

When seeds sprout from parables

Where no eggs break,

Then martyrs rise to build

Our history again

Kwasi Gyan-Apenteng

AKOSUA NOT ‘KOSUA’

eggHa ha, hehehehe, hmmm

“Akosua is a ‘kosua’
A ‘kosua’ which needs a holder
A holder with veins feared by the earth
But she fears palms”

***
Really?

***
Oh elders like shelvers!
Elders with clippers!
Elders with machete tongues!
‘Odomankoma Ahunu Abobirim’ is a generous God
So generous as to make Akosua legs, hands, a head and brain
Why will she act like an egg wasting those?

***
I say this to you;
Eggs do break
Sometimes with a little shake
Some do bake
Some are fried
And they are eaten, forgotten, and another sought

***
She is a queen
Needed to be respected by a king
Not a thing to be eaten
Nor a thing to nurse to birth
Only to be reared and killed

***
So don’t shelve her
Take away her cages
And concentrate on the tickings of your clocks

***
Maybe empowerment will make her;
Your legs, when they wobble
Your hands, when they struggle
Your eyes, when they blur
Putting stomach sustainables where they need to be

***
So Akosua is a queen
Akosua is strong
Akosua is not a thing
From the anus or with an anus of a delicacy!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

SCARS

Scars of slavery
Scars of rebellion
Scars of half freedom
Scars of neo colonialism
Scars of coups
Scars of internal wars
Have now given birth to
Scars of terrorism
Scars of brutality
With these many scars
How can we still not feel the experience?
How can we not pull the clothes of togetherness on our bodies?
How can we still be running in our tracks?
It is sad
This is sad
We are sad livers
And I cry for my continent
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

TEARS FOR THE DEFILED

www.redcross.org
http://www.redcross.org

Nananom were the Lords

When the aliens came as explorers

Riches turned their heads around

And they aimed to be the kings

So Nananom were subdued

Isn’t it funny that salt were used as toffees

To make our Lords tongue licking children?

Isn’t it funny that lone guns were used

To make men feel like servants of rude gods?

Isn’t it funny that men were caught in cages

And sent on crosses on nauseating waters?

All lives shattered

All tears harvested

All the blood of our land fetched

As thoughts of selfishness pushed into heads

Caused them to drum in hatred

And contributes to our plight today

Even in prayers for better days,

I weep for the black land so defiled

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Music And Me.

image
Credit: chchsjsandersonmediastudiesa2.blogspot.com

I decided to take a break from my laptop to see what my proud country’s  television stations had for me.

I tuned in to METRO TV to catch a glimpse of the great match between our own Accra lads,Olympics, which now has ‘Olele’ (our forgotten goalkeeper) in goal post against the herdsmen from the North who are striving for a place in the league. It was an eyesore.

I’ve glued myself to foreign soccer that just watching them play I remembered those days when I used to play football behind that old woman’s house who used to chase after my friends and I. They played the same way just like us, no professionalism. I wondered if it was really future National team players who were at play.

Getting frustrated, I tuned to Adom TV to watch a local movie which will take the pains and sorrows away. After all, rumor has it that our local movies keep the dead alive through laughter. But to my surprise,after  ten minutes of watching, my sorrows got to another higher level. Everything about the movie was disgusting.

TvAfrica had this preacher on and I am not a fan of media preaching so I skipped. Tv3, my favourite station had the  repeat of the audition of Ghana’s Strongest which took place in Tamale. I wasn’t interested so i skipped for my muscles cant even lift a half filled gallon of water.

Gtv,the station of the nation had one of it’s irregular programs on display.

For the three Crystals, their programmes are always predictable even without the programme lineups, local movies on one, preaching, more like for money on another, and talk shows on the other.

KTV and TopTv which I don’t get clearly got me angrier and wondered what is happening in my country.

UTV the station of the people, the station almost everyone likes didn’t have anything better to offer. Just another documentary which wasn’t interesting one bit.

Indeed,frustration built inside gradually. I thought my country could be my line sort of happiness but i was wrong. It worsened the woes and I don’t think I’ll forget it.

Just then I remembered I had a phone with a whole different genre of music. I took that option and to my uttermost surprise music was doing me good.

I had betrayed the friend which had been with me all these years. I also remembered for sometime now,”music has been my only escape from all the bullshit in life.” What a bad friend I had been.

Aside everything, music helped me to be where I am now. The bond between music and me is stronger than the covalent bond. If you feel neglected and all is lost I’ll be up counting my demons,I’ll be singing out loud to keep myself alive.
Music has been my only friend through my rise and fall. Music, I thank you for being there for me.

Gerald Adjei  ©2015

MOGYA DURO HIA AKWAKORA

board.jokeroo.com
board.jokeroo.com

Penpenaaa!

Nanaa! If you answer in sexy

You get gifted in richness

II

Penpenaa!

Nana! Don’t be rude

Nana needs new blood to help his system

III

Now let’s drop the play;

Many say their pairs reject them

Many say their beds are tired;

Tired of praying Hail Marys

Many say their pairs shift their love

And send them to their productions

Many are those who veil their raging libidos

With many rags of excuses

No union is perfect

We climb, descend

We fall and rise

We bait and hate

We talk, embrace

IV

Why must exuberant waists

Cry foul and create scenes

In order to go hammering new shoots in need?

V

Why must shameful beings

Be given voices to clear their throats

And shame broken spirits

VI

Blooming flowers

Overthrowing the wilts

Know your time is on slime

And a sour lime awaits your dead prime

Time takes no sides

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

ONE UMBRELLA (HAIKU)

TOGETHERNESS

Nose of Prekese

Saying dawadawa beings

Smell foul is horror

II

Huge bowls of Etiw

Claiming bowls of Akple are

Unworthy, is laughable

III

What happened to fruits?

What happened to same corn foods

What happened to groups?

IV

Let us not pretend

We’re under huge umbrellas

And so we are one

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE NEVER DYING PLANTAIN PLANT

images

There is a never dying plantain plant

Which is rooted in the centre

Of a coast initially golden

When it is cut down, other shoots emerge

When it is uprooted, new shoots succeed

Funny, how a plantain drains

And never ceases to create holes of mouthings

Holes of horrid deceits

Holes of disappointments

Holes of pauperhood

Wogesadjement plantains!

Know your time to feed is now

And not the future of feeding soil

So coil from being omnivorous centipedes

Who feed on their own bodies!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

IN HOPE (THE D-DAY IS HERE)

final poster

I hope

On the dilemmic three pathway

I hope

Feeling the pangs and the goosebumps

I hope

To walk with legs of victory 

II

I pray

With limbs of tiredness

I pray

Even as time smiles in its race

I pray

To get strong wings like eagles

III

Hold me

As I hold the sails in the storms

Hold me

As I look for a mouth to calm this storm

Hold and save me

To save the lambs in distress

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

LOVERS OF POETRY

(Today is the launch of my Maiden book, Poetry Excursion on an African Mind, no matter where you are, no matter who you are, a prayer will suffice and if you’re around Ghana, please be sure to pass by PAWA House, Roman Ridge and support. It is the aim of a huge board and mine to create a fund and build a standardised autistic school with moderate fees for children with autism so we can sponsor the less privileged with the fund. Help, help support a good cause, help save lives we can never create without the help of nature. Thank you.)

EVEN THROUGH THE GOATISMS

images

We live,

Through the snaking smiling gutter maimings

To the sitting smokes which puff to mate into killing

II

We live

Through the dotty salaries

To the gargantuan prices on needed edibles

III

We live,

Even though we are being ruled

By a rich dead goat who fears no knife

IV

We live,

Even though important monies

Sneak into pockets of supposed helping leaders on earth

V

We live,

Though we climb judgement debts

And pant at the herculean mountain

VI

We live,

We definitely live on

We live on, through the wobbling of the nipples

Of the abused Ghana, calling ourselves her sons

We live and we will live

We live and will forever live

We live and will forever live

Even after the dead goats jump in soup on fire

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015 

GHAEATERS

ghana-52

Ghana glammed gifted grandly

On inception like a princess from a rich kingdom

Until her marriage to usurpers

Who started with her adornments

And left her in short skirts

II

After the usurpers divorce

She married herself 

Only to realise that she feasted on herself

And now she has near bones

III

What causes this?

Who eats himself?

Who takes what is his and hides it in his pocket?

Who does that?

IV

Deplete it!

Please deplete it and deliver more children

Let them also deliver many

And take all of them into the grave

And have those eat stones

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

AKOSUA THE CANTANKEROUS

images

When witnesses fail to talk

Righteous men are eaten by the hands of the rope

Yet some call themselves witnesses

And witness when eyes need to close

Akosua is a tier

She ties herself by the Witness she has become

Becoming bounded and hounded by celebrations

Like a monkey whose tail is knotted on a tree

Akosua the cantankerous!

Akosua is a liar!

A lair who dips her mouth in artificial blood

But hates the cake of junctional cakes

Akosua the cantankerous

“I am no part

I can’t be a part

I am a witness

Witnesses don’t celebrate this

I will just witness”

Akosua the cantankerous!

Stop confusing us with a little word like witness

We are only beings living to cheer

We can’t understand the immortalities of living without cheer

Please Akosua

Give us a break!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

TALES PALE

www.sendacow.org.uk
http://www.sendacow.org.uk

African tales have tails of morals

refrains of chorals 

and sometimes show hearts of abhorals

II

African tales hold wise mails,

show hurting fails,

clarify heavenly bails

III

African tales can cause wails,

narrate heroic hails

and their wounding nails

IV

African tales are now like its porridges;

dilutings severe, erasing its sweetners

making its charming captivities turn dung

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

FIE! MOGYA NO NKA W’ANIM!

pi7rAnyAT
pi7rAnyAT

Fie! Artificial fires of the night

Fie! You who shine off and on

Jumping from the mountain of darkness 

To the mountain of brightness

Scattering arranged futures

And pulling hairs of the protected

Fie! You nighters like weak but dangerous fireflies!

II

I wear great clothes of metal

Metal to you, cotton to day workers

So you can dance “atopre”

Hunt like lions and lionesses

Fly like eagles on dope

You still won’t have me

I am painted Red with your antidote

III

When you say,

I pray

When you fill your weapon bay

I lift my hand, and they decay

Every tactics to have my happiness delayed

Is rebutted by a consuming fire pay

So shame!

Night glowers

Shame and shame

You have failed

And will continue to fail

Tue!

Did I just spit in your face?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CITY OF THORNS (CRAZY STANZAS)

saltytowel.deviantart.com
saltytowel.deviantart.com

Like bats, make us fly together

We are trees on same land with different grounds

A loud “paaa, pooom, peii” must raise our concerns

II

While our heads have nations with different thought legs,

Their frames have carvings so similar in supplementation

Their thought deeds have beautiful uglies

Causing real pain to differing acts

Which eyes watch in awe

III

We are the leaves waiting for fires, fearing its roasting

Why then do we set fire in other “wes”?

If we were stones on grounds of no blasters,

If we were mountains on grounds of no blasting lightning,

If we were waterfalls hidden from eyes

Knowing our sounds will attract no ears,

We could live without flocking

Shaming togetherness

To flee with awareness

Too bad we aren’t

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Touring the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary and the Kintampo Waterfalls

I went with some geography students of Tamale Senior High school on a tour to the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary and proceeded to the Kintampo Waterfalls. Knowing Ghana, my homeland, is now a passion, so I decided to share our experience.

The Buabeng Fiema Road from Kintampo
The Buabeng Fiema Road from Kintampo

WP_20150228_001 WP_20150228_004 The road to Buabeng Fiema from Kintampo was 32km and only some 300m of that road was tarred. The dust was unbearable, some pot-holes; unbelievable, but we plied through safe and sound.

HISTORY OF THE BUABENG FIEMA MONKEY SANCTUARY

In the year 1827, some people  went to settle in Buabeng Fiema. There was a hunter among them. One day, the hunter who was called Nana Ampong decided to go to the river side to fetch water. On reaching the river bank, he found a fetish covered with white cloth, flanked by the white and black colobus and mona monkeys. When the monkeys saw the hunter with his gun, they fled, leaving the fetish. The hunter decided to take the fetish home. When they woke up the next morning, they found four monkeys in the village. They consulted an oracle and the oracle told them that the monkeys were the children of the oracle, so if they liked the monkeys and could live with them without any problem, they could keep the fetish but if they could not live with them, then they should take the oracle back to where it was found.

The welcome spot of the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary on www.amoafowaa.com
The reception of the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary on http://www.amoafowaa.com

WP_20150228_007 WP_20150228_008 The settlers liked the fetish and the monkeys because they met them in Buabeng Fiema when they went to settle there, so opted to keep it and live in harmony with the monkeys. The fetish told them that anyone who caused any harm to any of the monkeys would face the anger of the fetish by dying. The settlers agreed. The oracle also told them that if any of the monkeys died, they should bury them like humans or else, the fetish gods will deal with them. The settlers obeyed and prepared sizeable coffins for the burial of dead monkeys and the fetish priest of the village poured libation to go with the burial. (Still a ritual)

Starting the journey into the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary
Starting the journey into the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary

WP_20150228_023 If the monkeys get sick or injured, they have their own medications in their sanctuary (which is the forest in which they live) but no one has been able to get their medications. If they realize they are going to die, they go to the village or to a public place and die, so they can be found for burial.

Being enlightened on the history of the sanctuary by our tour guide; Edmund.
Being enlightened on the history of the sanctuary by our tour guide; Edmund.

WP_20150228_028 WP_20150228_030 WP_20150228_031 The monkeys live in groups and every group has its leader. In the group of the mona monkeys, the head of the group, who is always the biggest, is the only one allowed to have sex with all the females in the group. If another male tries it, the leader beats it to a pulp. So if a male wants its freedom, it needs to form its own group. The groups get their territories marked so no other group can evade, if there is an evasion, there will be a terrible war. Funny enough, the mona monkeys play with the black and white colobus monkey without friction. WP_20150228_050   The monkeys go to the village after the villagers go to farm to steal their foods, so villagers who are not careful will have no food in their houses upon their return from farm. No monkey can be hurt or given any form of punishment because any harm on any of the monkeys is tantamount to death. (At this point, I asked if it is really true that one might die if he or she harms a monkey.) To this, he replied: “Ei madam, please don’t doubt this, when I was in class four, the Salvation Army Church members defied the gods and killed the monkeys for their meet claiming the words of the gods were superstitions, they died painful deaths until their extinction. So the villagers learnt their lessons” The guide, Mr. Edmund, cautioned that noise will scare the monkeys off, so tourists just needed bananas or other foods, extend them to the monkeys and they would come and take them, granting tourists time to take pictures.

The sanctuarinarians, roaming in the wild, a mona monkey
The sanctuarinarians, roaming in the wild, a mona monkey
A black and white colobus; known to be less friendly because it thinks humans are to be feared
A black and white colobus; known to be less friendly because it thinks humans are to be feared

WP_20150228_063 WP_20150228_062 WP_20150228_061 WP_20150228_060 WP_20150228_059 WP_20150228_058 There are other animals in the sanctuary, but the monkeys have a larger population, they may be over 3000 monkeys now, they were counted more than five years ago and were about 2000 monkeys. Since the mona monkeys deliver every five months, and the black and white colobus deliver every two years, their population has surely increased.There are snakes but mangoose are also many in the sanctuary, since they feed on snakes, the snakes are not many in the sanctuary. Hunting in the Sanctuary is forbidden. So even if a tree falls, it is left to rot. There are trees like the ficus tree, which is a parasitic kind of tree, it eats up an existing tree and replaces it by planting its root and eventually plants its root from the top into the soil. WP_20150228_037 WP_20150228_038 WP_20150228_039 WP_20150228_040 WP_20150228_044   THE MONKEY CEMETERY

There are two signboards in the cemetery; Madam Afia Boahene and Nana Kwaku Amponsah, but the one who discovered the fetish and monkeys was called Nana Ampong. Madam Afia Boahene was a virgin who helped the village to communicate with the fetish any time there was going to be a disaster. The fetish told her to warn the village, they also told her what the village needed to do to counter the attack. So the then priest, who was Nana Amponsah, prayed to counter it. Madam Afia Boahene died at the age of 120 and no virgin has been found to replace her. Now, whenever there is going to be a calamity, the monkeys cry deep into the night for seven days. Mostly, this cry means a chief of the two surrounding villages is going to die. The unfortunate thing is that, nothing can be done to reverse this as no one hears the voice of the fetish. The three people; Nana Ampong, Nana Amponsah and Madam Afia Boahene were all buried at the Monkey Cemetery because they are all considered the children of the fetish. WP_20150228_048 WP_20150228_049 WP_20150228_051 WP_20150228_052 I have to add that, there is also another story of a king and his men going to war leaving only women and children in the village. Fearing they may come to harm, he turned them into monkeys, hoping to come back and turn them back into beings. Unfortunately for them, they all perished leaving the human monkeys to live in the Monkey Sanctuary.

The Buabeng Fiema Village
The Buabeng Fiema Village

WP_20150228_067 WP_20150228_068     We left the Buabeng Fiema Monkey Sanctuary at 1pm for the Kintampo Waterfalls.

HISTORY OF THE KINTAMPO WATERFALLS

It was discovered in the 18th century by a roaming hunter called Nana Ankomah who was the first formal chief of the area. He kept mute about it and visited the place with his family. During the colonial era, a British colonial doctor called Dr. Saunders also found the waterfalls so decided to develop it and make it known to all. The place was named after him and so was called the Dr. Saunder’s Waterfalls. Shortly after independence, Dr. Kwame Nkrumah also took over and built some houses there. Since, Dr. Saunders was no more, he changed the name from Dr. Saunders to Dr. Kwame Nkrumah Waterfalls. After the overthrow of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, the buildings he had became idle. In 1992, the place went under the Ghana Tourist Board who decided to change the name because Dr. Kwame Nkrumah was no more. They chose to name it after the town, hence, the Kintampo Waterfalls.

The first stage of the falls.
The first stage of the falls.
The second stage of the Kintampo Waterfalls
The second stage of the Kintampo Waterfalls

DSCF1160 DSCF1161 There are three stages of the waterfalls. The first, second and last stage where tourists can swim.

Descending the 152 staircase to the third stage of the Kintampo waterfalls.
Descending the 152 staircase to the third stage of the Kintampo waterfalls
The third stage of the Kintampo Waterfalls
The third stage of the Kintampo Waterfalls

DSCF1154 DSCF1155 Stage one is the lower fall, stage two is the normal stream water and stage three is the only place one is allowed to swim. In stage three, one can fall easily because the place is very slippery. Females in their menstrual cycle are not allowed to swim.

And we always do something crazy
And we always do something crazy

DSCF1108

MARATHONIC PROCREATION

Hen-and-Chick-Featured

Maa Yaa! Come and listen!

I went looking for snails

Then I saw Oforiwaa strapping her newborn,

I also saw her holding two of her youngs

Then I asked how she was doing,

She told me ” Who can be finer than me?

Me who gives birth to the strength of the nation

This whole  town knows about my fertility

You should see how pampered I am

Mother of three sets of male twins

And five others in twelve years…”

She kept ranting on as her children cry for food

I had to give them some of my coins,

I, who have but only one, in ten years

I, who knows her words were circumlocuting

In the ink of my script

Their clothes were like rags

Some had stomachs like drums yet cried of hunger.

Maa, when did unreasonable procreation become

A marathon needing standing ovations

On lands where farming have fled to God knows where?

See expansion, in our poor national mansion

See poverty, walking on lean legs

Prostituting in homes like hers,

Apiiiii, apuuuu, apaaaaa!

I will rather remain the hen with just a chick

Than envy such rot!

Say I’m a gossip, I don’t care!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)  2015

HA!

They fight seriously

Why? Look here, ground-nuts and beans!

Fighting for nothing

Is like falling into grounds 

Full of herbivoric pests

II

As a leaf, I probed

Beans claim superiority

For being flower-borns

As ground-nuts claim bosshood for

Being root borns, how trivial!

III

You silly fighting beans,

Don’t you know you depend on roots

To flourish? And you 

Silly ground-nuts, who sees you

Until your murder moments?

IV

In a situation 

Where you both hide in clothes,

Does it make sense that you fight?

Know you also share some complexions

Aren’t some of you white and others red?

V

Until your brains tire,

By all means pump your fire

And fight to the finish,

Forgetting the nutrients you both possess

Which many yearn to live well

You also mostly end up together; in pots

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http://www.youtube.com

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

LET AFRICA DANCE

FLOWER

When hands suffer to beat drums

And parched throats wince as they taste rums

Feet must be whipped when they stay calm

II

As the hands make the sounds

Let the feet do the rounds

Like possessed by the gods who watch

III

Africa is a dancing god

Africans are dancers for the sun and moon

Only fireflies must be ignored

IV

So dance till sorrows turn sweat

Dance, till sickness regrets

Dance till colours speak for themselves

This light is the light from shinning dark

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

The Launch of Poetry Excursion on an African Mind by Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

final poster

Poetry, is fast gaining roots in Ghana, and as such, there are modern poets who are helping give it a boost in the entertainment industry. I must commend the Ghana Association of Writers (GAW) for helping its members gain the recognition they need. Being what many call a prolific writer, I started writing poetry when I was very young. It was my safe shell, it was my happy lane, it was my channel of criticism, it was my path to call for fairness, it was my route of education, among other things.

I never for once thought I would reach a point where I would be a published poetess, but by the grace of God, 15th March 2015 will see me living to see a dream, which I deemed far fetched, come true. Thanks to my loved ones who have had continued faith in me and have supported me up to this point and thanks to my followers on social media, especially, Facebook, WordPress and Twitter, whose words of encouragement, great voices of constructive criticisms and love have brought me this far.

My anthology: Poetry Excursion on an African Mind, which is my maiden book, was borne out of many emotions, so whoever one is, whatever one is going through, you are sure to find a piece which suits you. From children to the mourning adult, from the love-sick to the loved and from workers to politicians.

What drives me is the fact that I wish to contribute to the society where I am by doing what I do best, writing. Being one who knows what parents of autistic children go through, I decided, by consulting the executives of GAW, who gave their full support, to use 30% of the proceeds of the book to set up a fund to support children with autism to help relieve needy parents who have huge tasks of taking care of such children. Autism needs money to train children to fit into the society, money which most abandoned mothers lack and so fall into desperation. There are many people who are providing help for autistic children in Ghana today at huge costs,  but no financial help comes in except from philanthropists.

It is my hope that this fund, whose signatories would be the President of GAW, my humble self and a head of an autistic organisation, would grow to a point of relieving many parents whose hearts are heavy because of the fears they harbour and whose fears are fuelled mostly by the cost of living of their autistic children.

So I am entreating all and sundry to rally massively behind me on the 15th of March by being at the PAWA House, opposite the Accra Girls Senior High School at exactly 2:00pm to help support a good course. Seasoned poets like Nana Asaase, Oswald Okaitei, Chief Moomen would be there as Mr. Alfred Kpodo chairs this maiden edition. Special Guest of Honour will be the woman who has shown so much support for the Creative Arts in Ghana: Honourable Deputy Minister of Tourism, Culture and Creative Arts; Honourable Abla Dzifa Gomashie.

Please make it a point to be there.

      Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

 Author.

THE GHANA HEAD SO SAT FROM NKRUMAH

images

When Ghana was hit and sat on by snow

Gallant Kwame Nkrumah felt the blow

He watched as the Gold Coast sunk so low

Watched and learned so hard to tow their glow

He succeeded and with genius thoughts held the snow

And eventually succeeded in banishing her with a 1957 blow

And sat on the high seat with such a fine glow

Until many glows washed him like the snow

 

 

II

Then many mouths started to wag

Who is Nkrumah to nag and tag?

Kotoka planned and burnt his flag

Sending General Ankrah  into the high seat in 1966 with swag

Brigadier Afrifa hoarded plans in a bag

Planning to give Afrifa a bowing gag

And succeeded with a 1969 whip calling him a hag

Only for Nii Ollenu to boot him off like a 1970 rag

 

III

So Ollenu became the real 1970 rag so sold,

After Edward  Akuffo Addo gave him the boot in bold

A few months after he acted so bold,

Ei! Akuffo too was heated like cold

When Kutu Acheampong after two years got his hold

And like a an old cloth gave him his last fold

As a Fred Akuffo also did strike ’78 gold

Only for Papa Jerry to grab his coat and render him a 79 bold sold

images (1)

 

IV

So who was the reigning champion?

Papa Jerry or another lion?

Ei! There was Hilla who ‘hallered’ in the Ghanaian Zion

From 79 to 81 and was pushed by a hand stronger than electric iron

Yes, Papa Jerry again stood so tall

Playing the ball for so long

And from 81, he held the reigns till 2001

Praise the boom champion of the Ghanaian Zion!

 

V

Sexy Kufuor  stood so tall

Among the alls of political hall

Running eight years till his star call

For the weak and pious Atta Mills to heed the high call

Why did death give him such a terrible boot?

Oh maybe a Mahama was ordained to pull us through

The dumsos and the corruptive glues

Why then do we still see blue after such a long winding rule?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015