Lectures on the Use of the Mother Tongue as Medium of Instruction in Lower Primary by the Bureau of Ghana Languages

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It is a fact that culture is heavily dependent on language. If we lose our language which is a core part of our identity, then we lose our culture. Language must not be taken for granted neither must it be heavily adulterated. Some countries like Korea, China, Russia but to mention a few, have been able to break to maintain their languages nationally and internationally. A developing country like ours need to take steps in ensuring that we get there one day. It is in view of this that the Bureau of Ghana Languages, Tamale, is organising a public lecture on Friday, November 20, 2015 on the following topics

 

  1. The use of the mother tongue as the medium of instruction in our lower primary schools; merits and demerits.

BY; Prof. Apusigah Atia. Dean , Faculty of Education – University for Development Studies Tamale.

  1. The importance of the mother tongue in Education

By; Alhaji Iddrisu Adam. A retired educationist and former                                               Mayor of Tamale Metro

  1. The Essence of the mother tongue in a middle income Ghana.

By; Mr. Issahaku Alhassan , Lecturer University of Education, Winneba.

Again it is happening on

 FRIDAY,   NOVEMBER 20, 2015

VENUE :   ASSEMBLY HALL – TAMALE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL (TAMASCO)

TIME : 3:00 PM PROMPT – 5:00 PM

Come, listen, contribute and help make a gateway to help in national development.

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

A DAY WHICH SAT IN TUR

ghana_flag_a

A weird thing, in Accra,  sat
Sputtering and mumbling “tar”
Until it said it was called day

II
Day which was new
But had many problems dew
The first after a terror flood

III
It is going to be used
It won’t get the privilege

Of seeing the lazy in action

IV
It would die
Without anyone acknowledging it
Its Wednesday cursed it before its conception

V
So found in sat mood
Saying “tur” in musing
It is a day so unfortunate
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 6th May 2015

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)

IF i WERE FORMER PRESIDENT RAWLINGS

President Rawlings
President Rawlings

If i were Former President Rawlings

i would be a cat

While many dogs bark

i would package boom

After i, its disadvantages, zoom

Because i would know it can cause doom

II

If i were Former President Rawlings

i would be the diamond in the midst of gravels

Charming the media like a fairy godmother

Blessing them with my smile into forgetfulness

When ridiculous questions walk 

Through their mouths and gape at me

III

If i were Former President Rawlings

I would keep my face

Clear for the cameras

And punish traitors in four walls

Sealed at the top

With shut doors without windows

Always looking fashionable in Ghana wears

IV

If i were Former President Rawlings

i would be the Romeo

Who would never go without my Juliet

My supportive wife would be my strength

i would make her know our ambition ended

With the lowering  of my presidency stool

Because I will know fully well

Her ambition will be ridiculed

V

If i were Former President Rawlings

i would still be charming

Like Disney grounds for kids

And mime some Snoop Doggy songs

Adorably saying i understand not

Drawing in my grand kids

VI

If i were Former President Rawlings

I would be the voice of God

And generalize fake preachers

And maybe give clues but never mention names

Because i would know all Ghanaians are my children

And would advice those who allow

Themselves to be spammed

To make the fraudsters jobless

VII

If I were Former President Rawlings

i would be like a priest in confession

My household will be opened to all

Umbrellas, elephants, chickens and all

Giving my support to all in love

Never betraying any

IX

Fishes would love to fly and sing like birds

Birds who can only fly would like to swim like fishes

But as pelicans and they will say all is nothing 

Too bad

That i am not former president Rawlings

Now bells of stardom, pause

Pause and help my voice travel through the quietude

To his jurisdiction

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

 

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

THOSE GONE DAYS

Gone are the days
When Ghanaian children feared ‘kakai’
Now only villagers, coastal children and children with naturalistic parents get to bath in natural waters
What was a swimming pool then?
An anachronistic thought

II
Now, ‘mpotompoto’ and ‘coco’
Are for the villagers and children with grand mothers
Ei! With the lac lac lac in milk and sugar
Abound on the market
Who wants to be primitive?
I shake my head

III
Even watching the stars at night
Counting them in childlikeness
Running in hide and seek
All are swiped by ‘Kojo-Televisin’
And its game friends

IV
When teenagers took runs
As they went to the streams
Fetching and helping each other to carry their pots
Oh, that too is gone with the emergence of ‘Ama-pipe’

V
‘Jaco’ and ‘antowankyire e!
Obi nfere Nanasei mma me
Na me si obiba Abena, na me si obiba Abena
Na me si obiba Aaabena
Na me si obiba Aaabena…’
Oh! All those times are lost for modernity

VI
Africa lived then
Ghana lived then
Nature’s departure is true happiness’ rapture
Well, a new form of happiness has captured
What can I say?
Life goes on
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)2015

STRANGE EUPHEMISMS

en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org

I have not broken my hand

I am just going through God’s ritual of fertility

I have not broken my hand

My hands are just fine

To carry out its responsibilities without stress

II

I am not hiding behind buildings

Trust me, if I am, then you wouldn’t be in buildings

I am going through a sacred phase of a promising future

I am a sacred shrine

One who ensures continuity

III

I am not the only one having my period

I believe we are all in our periods on earth

You can’t say I am in my period

I am just being sanctified by our maker

To prepare safe routes for future’s arrivals

IV

Why is it not pleasant?

With such a wondrous ritual, why isn’t it pleasant?

Why am I always treated like an outcast during my rituals?

Imagine a world with no menarche rituals

Ask yourself where you would be?

V

Know that that so called filth created your tongue

That so called filth helped create your being

So if you have a passage to eat and discard

Mind your words concerning heavenly rituals

You are you because of it

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

EQUALITY, NOT SUPERIORITY

en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org

Who are the flowers

Wearing their thorns

Calling for fairness

Hitting and biting admirers hard?

II

Who are the roses

Burning opposite noses

Claiming they’re bosses

And hitting hard in doses?

III

Listen to a fellow say;

Every rudeness has a pay

You’re not superior in any way

You fight for fairness

Then be fair

You fight to be a pair

Act perfect pair

Your pride goes with an ego

An ego needing stroking

So for your needs to be met

You need to be a proper set

IV

Even roses with thorns

Can never fight boots

A little trampling turns them to goods

Goods which only coffins hoard

So be on the respectful board

And attract fairness

Roses are nothing without its audience

We aim for freedom,

So do all other hearts

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This poem is for all those women who think themselves superior to men. Be yourself, love yourself, fight for respect with hard work and good deeds but never think of disrespecting men, they too are humans, humans we deliver and so must cherish)

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

A WALK WITH MAHAMA

(Today is World Poetry Day. Let me start my day with a walk with my president. I love and respect the headship because he represents Ghana, my motherland. When things go wrong, writers have the pens. And this is how I choose to use mine today)

sankofaonline.com
sankofaonline.com

Nothing is by mistake

I would’ve said by mistake,

You were chosen to follow,

Then by death’s mistake,

You were chosen, after being pursued, to lead

A young shoot leading a mountain

A star leading suns and moons

A small star ruling the sky

Interesting and all eyes were keen in watching

Many thought your small light

Will make it easier for you to zoom in on the sky

And I can’t say you have not tried!

But then you took on corruptive fireflies

Fireflies hungry to feed

And many see you as one yourself

As for me, I have no voice in the matter

Whether you gathered and others stole

Or gathered and stole with them,

I am no witch to know, so I won’t judge

But all blame heads if legs and hands rebel

Stars can’t shine brighter than the moon

Or sun, that I understand,

But must that be taken literal?

If promises developed long running legs

From your abled-mouth,

Must “dum” accompany your eyes to see?

Upon our walk, we stumbled on a SADA stealing

Upon our walk, we stumbled on a GYEEDA stealing

Upon our walk, many mouths have been shut by failure;

With dum, how many enterprises can stand on weak kwashiorkor legs?

That rumours walk in whispers

Of your familiar richness

Is one of the scary hushnesses

A walk with you has seen many striking deaf and dumps

If even they heard or saw enough to strike

Then which good annals will have your name in ink?

That will be bad business!

But even you claim you are dead and a goat!

Show some respect Amoafowaa!

No one voted for a dead goat

Could it be we struggled for a goat

And killed it before a great occasion?

If this walk will yield any results

It will start from you and end with you

How about getting more passionate Gomashies

How about nailing all the helpless Woyos?

How about cleaning the filth in your cabinet?

This neatness is not literal

Let it start from above

And we below will follow your sync

Ghana is greater than all our hurdles

But a floating ship, no matter how strong,

Will sink on any river or sea

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

FIVE THINGS I LOVE ABOUT GHANA

Yesterday, a father I cherish, nominated me to say five things I love about Ghana, my homeland. Due to the advantaged peace of “dumsor” I was not able to take on the challenge to the fullest, and I decided to take that up today.

1. I love Ghana because we are hospitable. Yes, we are hospitable, in that, many are those who will rush to help the helpless in all situations, except of course where ebola is concerned. Let someone collapse on the street, and you’ll get many offering to take that person to the hospital, let some people decide to fight, and you’ll get others trying to calm the tempered waters, let someone start crying, and you will find many ears standing erect, ready to listen, let there be a visitor lost, and many knights will rise to make the person comfortable and let there be a funeral and you get to see many new faces ready to help. What I love, love and love most is the fact that most people you don’t know from Adam in Ghana ask for your greetings even if you forget to give it. Thus, once you get out there, no matter how lonely you are, you can still talk to someone and feel among. Why won’t I love Ghana?

2. I love Ghana because everyone has a voice. Literates and illiterates alike have voices. Listen to a radio station discussing politics and you’ll hear many opinions, ones which can make you laugh your heart out and ones which will make you think. A public official whose good clothes have been peeled off by corruption will have supporters ready to fight for him and will have enemies ready to crucify him. The tug of war sometimes gets so clumsy that those on the fence can find the comedy more humorous than the plays of Shakespeare. And the hot waters become cool as soon as some days travel on the matter. Ghana! Why won’t I love Ghana?

3. I love Ghana because there is mostly sunlight and I love the sun. There is no snow to lock humans in, though there are enough gutter buildings which help in flooding and disaster, I pray for the likes of Oko in all regions.

4. I love Ghana because of our food. You get banku and okra soup, get fufu and palmnut soup with prekese, get ampesi and “nkontontoriwa” groundings, even porridge with “whintia, pepre etc”. Where else can you face the wall and get a belly full? Get a prepared drink in soobolo which is purported to be medicinal? And ei, can I leave out tuozaafi and ayoyo or bra soup? Please, I love my Ghana because even soups can be married to be in one consumption; “abenkatekonto”. I love Ghana.

5. I love Ghana because of our peace. There are no shivers here; shivers of ebola, bokoharam (my sympathies to affected states), and even where political tensions rise, the court is left to decide and its rulings are respected. Many are those who will disagree but never end up fighting. Well, we do have a few ethnic and chieftaincy squabbles, but we are generally a peace loving nation. We play with our cultural supremacies but never end up in war. I love Ghana. Yes, this is my homeland, we have issues but home is where the heart is, and Ghana is my home.

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

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

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

WRINKLED IN PRIME

pests_940x450

Wrinkled, 

She is wrinkled in her prime

Wrinkled,

She is wrinkled while her mates glow

Wrinkled,

She is wrinkled by scorching distortion,

Wrinkled by omnivorous corruption

Wrinkled by familial keep-up appearances

Wrinkled by fence sitting

Wrinkled by money gluttons

Wrinkled by horrid crime sexing

Wrinkled, just wrinkled

By eyes of jealousy

“Ghanamanosyncratics nsempiisms”

Nana Awere Damoah will say

Amoafowa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

SORES ON THE LAND

images

Flies, please take a rest

You’ve been your pesty best

Feeding on huge sores

On this Ghanaian Land.

II

Flies, try housing your booty

Moths hide in pulling

While you aim at the bones

In this Ghanaian Land

III

Flies, the bones are ageing

Weakness means surrender

So rest in triumph

IV

And oh you Land,

Please get great help

In medication of wisdom

To select your flies

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE 58 WE’VE ‘ATE’

imagesMama Ghana,

Are you turning in your grave?

Are we all doomed for the grave?

Have we doom, on your grave, engraved?

Don’t be bitter, we’re all not litter

II

Mama Ghana,

Be a little content

We hold onto our peace like fishermen and their paddles

Although our ship is in the middle of the unknown

And the storms scare dangerously

III

Yes, our power is showing us its Power,

It’s true our oil has been manipulated to make us toil

I know our earnings are gobbled by our debts

But cheer us on in hope

IV

You see it all

Your resources in greedy pockets,

I know you see it all,

The corruption which walks in soft shoes

You see it all, our near fall

But be contented, and cheer us on

V

The 58 we’ve ate

Looks like our souls being eaten

But cheer us on Mama Ghana

We will get a good captain, some day

We will catch all corrupt whisperers, some day

We will get there, some day

We sure will get there; to your satisfaction, some day

So be contented and cheer us on

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

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

 

HARMATTAN EFFECTS

www.ideachampions.com
http://www.ideachampions.com

Harmattan effects;

Burning fresh leaves, kindling ills

Favouring orthodox?

II

Attacking the nose

Scratching and biting the chest

Murder in cold blood?

III

When your pinch shivers

As your air wrinkles like cloth

Of linen, your problem?

IV

You’ll say I accuse 

Unfairly, but you know how

Right I am. My chest!

V

Leave my bones and flesh

And I’ll leave your case to rest

As simple as that!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

BLACK STARS OUTSHINE GUINEA

vibeghana.com
vibeghana.com

Behold Ghana

Has lifted the Banner

And though the Savannah

Rather listens to adverts of Sultana

And Guinea has a Forfana

Hearts are beaming

Hypocritically leaning 

Praying for their continuing

And eventual winning

II

They are the famous Black Stars

Who shine bright even in the dark

Disappointing pessimists till their mouths are ajar

A play of beauty, they give goals in abundance

I know I hail in my heart

Others too hail in their hearts

Mouths don’t say

But hearts feel the ray

Of the great great play

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PROTHIEFICS (TANKA)

images

I have thoughts to say;

Lion as chief of the forest

Concatenates to

Loss of smaller animals

In the forest of Hanah

II

I’ve more thoughts to say;

Leopards and hyenas know it

But are afraid to

Stir the nest of fearful bees

Others think their stomachs precious

III

I still have more thoughts

Coterminously, many

Are in cahoots with

The lion for some crumby share

And you’ll think it so unfair

IV

I dare you to step

In their shoes and know your fate

You will dance to tunes

Like fetish in possession

Now, tongues wag like mine, pretense?

V

We’ll all sit and wait

While the lion eats fat, too bad

We won’t live to see

The extinction of our peers

And the chewing of grass by lions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

ARCHAIC STAR FOR GHANA (HAIKU)

ghana_flag_a

Hear me blacks in arks

Change the colour of your star

So we can go far

II

You know black for death

You use red for hot danger

These we have, what now?

III

We are on travel

And our star dims like black coal

No wonder we stand

IV

We stand with no walks

Our legs are like pegs on lines

What leads who herein?

V

It is time for change!

Let the black turn to sun bright,

And lead for follow

VI

Dim, it blends with dark

Dim, its whims tear limbs like strings

Original, please!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

HELPLESS PROSTITUTE

transport

The road prostitutes

Letting all vehicles through

Why doesn’t she have a voice?

Poor roads,

Even in rain, you accommodate all

In heat, you are accommodative of all

No rest for you?

Like a helpless beauty, you lie

As your beautiful flower is being flawed

By layers and layers of ungrateful tires

The washing bays mess you up

As others litter your gutters

Gutters you inhale from all the time

The sellers sit at your edges

As hawkers make you their walking ground

Animal droppings decorate you

While blood sometimes garnish your dirt

Drivers curse into your eardrums

As some spit on your face

Do you curse your maker?

Don’t you feel even a little sad?

Am I the only one seeing your suffering?

Somehow it saddens me

How you are exactly like Africa

The beautiful Africa with known children

Like Ghana, Nigeria, Angola, Togo,

South Africa, and many good others

Whose heads are ridden through like

Vehicles ride through you

But you are eternally hopeless

I pray the spark of hope in Africa

Shines to light her being

Being like you is an endless suicide

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

THE WOMAN I ENVIED

en.wikipedia.org
en.wikipedia.org

Once in a flowing dress

I walked along the sea in duress

Hoping the breeze would help caress

My soul, and tow the wrecked pain on my mind

Then I saw her;

A woman of women and men

With hair like protective bush

Too beautiful with no room for transparency

A face like God

Looking at it, none gets bored

Its beauty could cut like a sword

In her eyes, waters of love dance

Putting lookers into trance

Making all wish to in it dance

Her ringed neck was adorned with the finest of beads

In her breasts were sewn beautiful promising seeds

Her arms like a welcoming path,

Promised me a bath

No matter my thinking maths.

Her clothes of many living greens;

Some with many healing spleens

And others with many nourishing teens,

Flowed like an unseen garment

Down her flawless adornments

I bet critiques would have no bad judgements.

At a glance

I took a stance

I wanted to be her, down to her little nuances

She was all

Golden mother who would take all fall,

Working father with boiling red blood,

An embodiment of foods ready to feed

And showed all one wished to see with a shinning black star

She trivialised all I was

But I looked at her then

Looked at me

And felt strange

I was in her

That was my mother

Yes, me viewing my great motherland,

A land in Africa shining brighter than usual

A land bridging all hurdles and standing tall,

That was me watching Ghana, my motherland

I can’t be more proud, relieved and safe

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

SEASON VISITS EYES, POCKETS AND HEAT

ghana_flag_a

Who is there?

Oh all are here!

I see the things

Which Christmas brings

But my pocket cries out

And my mouth does pout

II

Who sees it?

Oh all feels it

Many are those 

Who’ll think of overdose

To end the shame

And get a loose name

III

Who is happy?

Oh the sit-and-eats

Who cares about money

When all they need is honey?

They sit and wait

To eat until late

IV

Who will enjoy?

Oh Pastors with joy

For all will give

And all will leave

God’s coffers sits

Crying to be liberated into their pits

V

Who will suffer?

Oh all will suffer

From the foot=mat wives

Whose meals delay

To the hungry child

The streets beget

VI

Who will feel the heat?

Oh all without generators

For ECG tightens his belt

Every watt for two dark pelts

Don’t be alarmed,

It is to check deaths

VII

So flow to the village

Drink from the Densu River

Eat from Assase Yaa

Inhale from the noses of green plants

And let the flies lick your buttocks

Who knows, the gods of your land

Might just reveal your heirloom

And save you from this misery

Or worst, make you a stooge master!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

MY AFRICA: HER OWN DAUGHTER’S DISCRIPTION

Holidayz

Many talk of Africa

The poor poor Africa

The dessert placed Africa

Mother of bushes, poor Africa

The wild rearing Africa

The illiterate realmed Africa

The ill bred Africa

The jungle Africa

No!

I am in Africa

Born and bred in Africa

Knows its boundaries, this Africa

Feel its warmth, sweet Africa

I have tasted pure seeds in Africa

Have sipped from pure minds in Africa

Where else can I breathe like Africa?

My sweet sweet Africa!

The winds are pure in Africa

Yes, there are scares in Africa

And there are problems in Africa

But which place lacks these under the sky?

I won’t gave a horror face to Africa

I see my Africa

My Africa is a woman

A woman discovered as a girl

A girl pure in nature

A bit mischievous, but serene

Even friendly dogs bite 

When they sense peril

So harmed by intruders

Who caught her young like goats

She rebelled, who wouldn’t?

With time she gained her freedom

And now she picks herself up

Saddled by the greed of her own

Her transition to refinement is not easy

But she lives through with hope

This beautiful lady draped in many colours

Is my Africa

So taint not my Africa

Know her before you speak of Africa

A hospitable fellow who has taken in offenders

And is treating many with hospitality

Everything tastes good

And herbs cure many

I love my Africa

If she is a lion

She roars to protect her young

This is my Africa

And the Africa which needs uncovering

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

PRAYERS FOR SANITY

ghana_flag_a

We as a nation pray

We in this situation say

Let sanity stop wandering

And come home to earth

A prodigal is still blood

Chaos has ruled for long

We long for that serenity

We loathe our vulnerability

We crave an end to this stupidity

Our own stupidity

Of muffling through settled water

Increases our thirst

Let sanity come home

You who sent him wandering

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014 

IN THE STIFLING COLD

bestclipartblog.com
bestclipartblog.com

On winter’s tail

Africa has stepped,

Stopping snow in its tracks

Getting a hold on cold

II

Little did Kwaku know

This luxury is found only in the

Belly of Africa 

 Africa goes no further

III

He runs for pastures

Hoping to attract good gestures

But falls into the hands

Of snow and onto the bosom of cold

IV

“Mama Africa! Mama Africa!”

But the ears of Africa lie far back

A million tongues can have no shouts

Deep enough to reach her

V

The Prodigal Kwaku weeps

The cold threatens to fold him

In a thousand pieces and box

Him to his mother who is wicked to it in her territory

VI

Everywhere is here

Lying in the bosom of a mother

Can never equal that of monstrous cold

Kwaku learnt too late

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

SWIFT METHODOLOGY

www.metal-archives.com
http://www.metal-archives.com

In the drizzling rain

I feel the sizzling bane

Of the fizzling cane

II

Chaos sit at the counter

Bragging to sanity counter

And shun peace’s encounter

III

Vultures perch on broken twigs

Smelling blood mixed with long wigs

Looking through for the fleshy bigs

IV

Vampires join the nasty orgy

Assured by their psychology

That none will know their methodology

V

How those with the sanes

Will make vampires their protective mains

And have no eyes to see their fangs

Beats me

Ignorance sucks needed blood indeed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

NO CHRISTMAS FOR GHANA (CRAZY STANZAS)

GHANA PROTESTS

I

Light is a rare visitor

Money is a haunter

Hunger is the landowner

And pain is the comfy seat

Of Ghana, my Ghana

II

A Cedi today,

Ten Cedis tomorrow

A promise today,

A hiding tomorrow

Demonstration in succession

Courts and orders

There’s no Christmas for Ghana

Not for Ghana, my Ghana

III

Delicious foods

Have fled houses

To play on televisions

To flame hunger

Mouths are talking

But who is listening?

“Yentiee obiaa”

Lumba has sealed it

Who thinks of Christmas?

When the stomach rumbles?

No Christmas for Ghana, not for my Ghana

IV

Poor young souls

Think of nice clothes,

Think of sweet candies,

Think of nice meals,

Poor young ones

Hardly do they know

There’s no Christmas for Ghana

Not for Ghana, my Ghana

hungry

V

No Christmas for Ghana

Inflation of passions!

No Christmas for Ghana

Oh mixed reactions!

No Christmas for Ghana

Pockets with no actions!

No Christmas for Ghana

We’ve reached unfair sanctions!

And the real pure Ghana of the Rurals weep

Too bad, they weep for the Ghana few are keeping

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

CROUCHING COWARDS (SYNCHRONICITY)

Mountain lion

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

Sounds bouncing from realms of chaos

Magnified by mouth of the cruel

Shake ground

 

II

Heads powerful to shut them out

Sit panicking in clothes of fear

Just look

 

III

As the jerkings become intense

They fold themselves into cocoon

Of blame

 

IV

Poor weaklings with filled drum bellies,

Poor green leaves with nice fruity dreams

Suffer

 

V

They suffer unjustly always

Their voices sit covered like drums

Sealed tight

 

VI

Who but the hen stirs soil for food?

Who but the chicks tag along hens?

Pity!

 

VII

Oh ye cocks turned chickens today,

Hear this voice and know your place now

Work right!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

 

HIDE THEM IN BOOKS

books460

I

Need to hide your precious

Without an African being conscious

Open a book and slot it in

II

Words are pains

In which they see no gains

Most complain they hurt their brains and break their sanes

III

Need to hide from an African

Hide in a stuffy library

Even the scents will repulse their steps

IV

Amazing how horrible practices

Make many break into laughter

How daft is daft when the daft flees enlightenment?

V

This must make us cry not smile

Oh Africa! Seek enlightenment!

Hit the books!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

POOR POOR LAND

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The land tries

But still cries

Blood of purity shouts

Anger of truth roars

Justice in pain screams

High pitched voice of abuse unbearably sounds

Feet of lies thump

As cheating massacres

Tribal unrest turn  chaotic

Every face has hidden mask of a lion

Who covers the ears of the land?

Everyone for himself

The land stands for all but is neglected

Oh land who worries!

Land who cries!

Landy land!

Trust none!

Care for you!

Just once in your lifetime

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

THUMB POWERS

6_enndeathfather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their thumb powers are unknown to them

Like our forefathers exchanged gold for salt

They exchange their powers for cheap coins, cloths

Bicycles, motorbikes, cars and promises

Which never come to pass

When will they see their thumbs are worth more than little fees?

Grave sufferings, avoidable sufferings reign their world

Yet they never turn into eye openers

To uproot their problems

Psychological colonization

Misplaced priorities

Repitition of dynamic but same mistakes

Are blinding our sorry selves

Have mercy! Whoever hears!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014

TAMALE MARKET WAHALA

A bird's eye view of the Central Business District of Tamale

It is dry

It is dry here

So the creator made it fair

By planting shea

The market reeks of dawadawa

While children sit under heated sun

Their sad faces attracting trade for their parents

There is that taxi meandering here

There is that taxi going there

The motor cycles and bicycles battle pedestrains

Tomatoes, onions, garden eggs and others

Sit on the heads of hopeful hawkers

Angry  truck pushers push their ways through

Buyers and sellers alike

Time

Actually

Mends

Atrociousness,

Leaning in to clean

Errors

Tamale will get there

There where all sweats will know their houses

And fight no alien sweat for space

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)2014

WAKE OH GHANA!

Ghana-Flag-Map

Oh Ghana!

Land of my birth

A land with gold and greens

The only land with a black star which shines

To lead the way

One powerful land fought for with blood

Where did we pass?

To get this lost?

Where did we go so wrong?

That we use baskets to fetch water?

We all saw when we travelled to rear guinea fowl

Wanting multiplication but ended with negatives

They all flew to the countries of few stomachs

Who blamed Burkina Faso for enticing them

We all know the many payments without efforts

Are we blind to see our coffers having huge holes

Which have mysterious visiting fingers only in the dark?

All we have now is confusion

Many starve

Many can’t breathe

Many commit suicide

Even health needs great wealth

Where are our eyes?

When did Ghanaians go so blind?

Our drivers may be sleeping

Their mates maybe too bitter to notice

Ghana! Ghana!

Let us all have a voice

That talk is cheap

And demand work

Work to get us to the right path

Before the dessert swallows us

Without the streams hearing our frightened cries.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014