…tell Leila to tell Niima
…that Rafia has been killed and buried in herself
Her body is now a walking coffin
…without her being in there
How did it happen you ask?

Just last three nights
Awudu’s lust drove his monsters
…to cast Rafia in his dubious feast of rape
That innocent girl was forced to taste womanhood
…and pushed by pain to old age
…jumping passions and love
Thanks to Awudu’s scissors of ruthlessness

Found in her first blood
Awudu was summoned and an eyewitness was called
Having been caught
He pleaded not guilty and pushed his wrong
…on desire
Rafia’s father and other elders met
…to see to the right punishment
And came out with marriage
They claimed
…food already soiled with one hand
…must be gifted to the hand
…in magnanimity
My heart sank

How a young girl was punished to marry
…her terrorist
And banished to live as his second wheel
…frustrates me still
I ask how she will cope
Seeing the face that tore her innards
Stealing her childhood
…and skipping her teens into adulthood
Lawfully climbing her in his bought bed

Does she have a vocation?
Oh no!
Can she feed herself in his location?
… Hell no!
Will she turn a servant?
… Oh yes!
Can she live to laugh?
… How possible?
How she turned food to her folks
And got sold to a thief
…shows the unfairness that drives
…the code of men
The unfairness that will kill her each day
…till her forever ever after
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 5, 2019


It is hard
When it dawns on you and your sky turns dark
It is bad
When you look and see that a difference does mark
You can never park
Even as the world chases you to the ends of the mad
Oh woes of a broken seeded mother!

Even in acceptance struggle
Pointed fingers use blame to strangle
And in an in-cry
…many suggestions demand for many a try
Each has their meaning for her flawed blessing
Most throwing shades for her demeaning
Oh woes of a broken seeded mother!

She is the witch that earth needs to ditch
…to some minds
She is the offender who must so plead
…to some minds
She is the womb which marks for tombs
…to some minds
Chained by the hatred that hangs around her
She still needs a focus on her broken
Oh woes of a broken seeded mother!

Days drag on!
Nights are unkind!
The present does mock!
The future oh scares!
The past act scar!
Regrets do whip!
Still, one mind needs to work harder
…to tend a struggling innocent
…in unmeeting ends
…a boiling emotions
…hopeless devotions
…and many commotions
Oh woes of a broken seeded mother!

She is a machine
…which knows no tiredness
She is mountain
…which feels no feet stamping
She must wear smiles
…for tutoring trees
She has no words for societal acceptance
Sickness is a luxury
…she never can afford
Oh woes of a broken seeded mother!

She turns a garden
…which pests do prey
Can she dodge spiritual fraudsters?
…Unless she wishes to be an open dish of witchcraft
…on societal plates
Can she swerve the elders
…and their many concoctions?
Unless she wants to be a ritual puppet
…to meet slaps of seers
…through to judgements of unmerciful gods
Can she swerve the hounds of directions
…by even ignorant minds?
…Unless she wants to be chased
…by guilt soldiers
Oh woes –
…Woes of broken seeded mother!

She may have to apologize
…for her broken seed
She may have to be jilted
…for her problemed body
She may have to be shunned
…so other seeds stay safe
She may be hanged on a cross
…of unending accusations
Oh woes!
…Frightening woes of a broken seeded mother!

Friends might get tired
…of her eternal strife
Benefactors might hide at her shadow
…and make her a plague
She may turn the “don’t-be-like”
…in the fortunate’s advising
She is built a hell on earth
…by family through to her nation
And burned slowly
…to either murder
…choose suicide
…or run mad to prove the bet of her badness
Even the strongest becomes a living corpse
…working like a bull
…through it all
Getting all back bending and grave energy
With fountains of tears
…as her veinal blood
Even the little sympathy seems like warning shots
These are the woes of a broken seeded mother
…on this golden land
Filled with the compassionate
…and many a hospitable souls
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 15, 2019


Nana Nyame Totrobonsu
…nyansa sene ade nyinaa nti na
…obi Akosua kuma nnyɛ obi anum no
Enti neɛ ɛmrɛ atukwan abɛduru wɔ nyansa mu yi
…a kwajo hoho adwene gu so te wo nyansa so yi
…wo nhunu sɛ, sɛbi, nkwaseɛ nwansena ɛɛguro wo nsɛmka ho?

Kyerɛsɛ Kwame Asikuma
…bɛtumi asi n’agɛgɛ mu
…agu aba wɔ ɛmmaa du ayaase
…agye nnamu nson no nyinaa a “papa” mbata ho abodin
Nso tɛkrɛma biara nkyerɛ n’ase wɔ b’adwamu,
Mpo sɛ ne bɔne sene adebɔnefo nyinaa deɛ a,
…firi sɛ otua dua
Akosua nkoa kɔ so aba krɔ firi n’ahosɛpɛ mu a
…w’adane duawa a ɛwɔ sɛ amanfoɔ we wɔ nkunkɔn so?

…obiara asaase nna ɔbaa biara ayaase
Na w’akɔ tena hɔ tesɛ abɛnsuo dua ase
…akɔ kyerɛ mmra ase
…de apɛ n’animguase
Ɔbarima biara a ɔkyerɛ mmaase
…tesɛ tuuse a yɛde ɛkɔ ma Kaase
…wɔ ne dam akuara ase
…a yɛfrɛ hɔ Bɔdamase
Enti nhwehwɛ nnaseɛ nfiri onyansani biara apata ase
Efiri sɛ w’akyerɛ ɔbaa bi ase
…de agu n’anim ase

Sɛ ɔbaa bi ano a ɛda n’ayaase
…yɛ w’ano a wo de kɔ mukaase-
…a, mesrɛ wo
…ka w’ano tum
…na ka wo se si so
Sɛ ɛhɔ nso yɛ wo Okuafo nsuo a ɛpata wo nsukɔm a
…ɛneɛ agya
…gye ho ban na pɛ krado bi fa kɔ to mu
Ɛma ɛmmɛ tena abɔnten mmue wo dede gya
…nfrɛfrɛ nkurasedwene wɔ mmerɛyefoɔ tirimu
…ɛmfa nsɛi adwene pa

Mmere atukwan abɛduru anibue mu
Enti ma w’adwene nso ntene nyansafidie mu
…na ɛmɛduru ɛnɛ yi faahodie mmrɛ mu
Na hunu sɛ
…ɔbaa biara kura ne homam faahodie safoa
Sɛ wɔn bɛbue wɔn ayaase
…tesɛ ɛkwan a ɛkɔ Efiduase
…ama wɔn a ɛbɔ dondo abɛ goro wɔn Antoakyire wɔ hɔ o
Sɛ wɔbɛ kɔ akɔbɔ dawuro wɔ Ankaase
…ama abɛtiri a ɛwɔ ntini nyinaa
…abɛ twa wɔn asaase wɔ wɔn ayaase o
Ɛnnyɛ wo ho mframa
…n’abɛyɛ w’asɛm
Enti pɛ nsakrayɛ pɔ bi bɔ to wo ti mu na ma yɛ ndwene
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Obubuo 8, 2019


Lisa thought she had gotten a visa to riches
By wedding onto a comfortable bedding
Her bragging and doggy greeting
with fingers acting pianists in the air
…could be seen even by the blind
Driving all spinsters mad with bad jealousy

Hers was acting boss to clean
…and taking off dross to dance for daddy
But daddy’s okro
…couldn’t do foko
And his time allotted her
…was nothing even Ananse’s binoculars
…could see on a pie chart
Still, she tried keeping her sweats
…in the fur of riches
…reminding herself of the security it brings

A year hopped onto its quadruple next
No seed sent a text
…talk less visited her womb
Her expensive make-up couldn’t cover
…the tensions from corners
In laws screamed and threatened
Hubby puffed and shrugged
Friends teased and gossiped
Doctors assured of her function
Until she hatched a plan to redeem her face

Lisa visited Koo Mpapa and begged him to act farmer
…to plant just a seedling in her garden
As the planting was nearing the end
A thick tall soldier woman walked in on them
And beat the hell out of both
With her bruises, Lisa went home with a red lie
“Some thieves attacked me o
Yieeee! Aoooo! My ribs”

Hubby called in a doctor
But before he could come in
The soldier woman dragged Koo Mpapa to her compound
To announce the sin and to warn
Lisa knew her fate could not be saved
With her things packed in a modern suitcase
She was thrown out without a pesewa
The cloudless sky compounded her plight
…by raining cats and dogs

Having no where to go
She decided on visiting her Maame Sɔfo
…to intercede on her behalf
She met hubby’s car at her compound
Thanking her stars, she walked into her hall
…without a call
Hubby was using Maame Sɔfo as his hobby
Waist play on display
None bothered to panic
…her presence exaggerated their fake moans

Even tears deserted her
She decided to go back to her village
When she reached home
…everyone had gathered, crying their hearts out
Lisa’s mother and father had died in an accident
The car her ex hubby bought them collided with a Tipper Truck
Lisa collapsed

Three moons walked past her
…pushing her troubles to their peers
With no skill and more bills
She felt like death could fix her
But cowardice dangled pain in her mind
With just two mud houses and a shared plot for farming
Even one meal posed a big deal
Until she felt dizzy and fell one afternoon

The area nurse was called
…she pronounced that Lisa was
…with a three moon seed
She had not known her hubby for five moons
Koo Mpapa’s planting planted the fruit

With society pointing their fingers at her
She began thinking so hard
…until some of the wiring in her head snapped
Taking the burden of dressing
…and begging off her
Affording her smiles and laughters without causes

Take heed and learn from Lisa’s visa
You who want short routes
Of being swallowed by a waist python
Thinking its womb a bed of roses without thorns
Your sweats’ breath will yield and equip at you will
…no matter the trouble
“Ours” seldom rushes to save
…in troubled waters
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 13, 2019


Shea buttered melanic bodies display
Scantily clad at the junction of stickdom
Some faces needfully smileless
Other faces hopefully smileful
Some waists twirling
Some hard buttocks twerking
As I sing

I ring the ding to dong like a gong
I am the tongue to bless with a song
I need your wriggle to shed your ego
So I can lotto a win in your bingo
So let muscles dance
Give giggling flat breasts a hopping chance
And I will sprinkle the cash
Your heart needs in a rush

Eyes open in wild need
Mouths open in needy feed
Six packs act sea waves
Moving into greed caves
As men turn dogs on fours
Surrendering in invitation for my tours
As I sing

Show me the holes you can burrow
Show me the strength I can borrow to shoot sorrow
In its daunting hollow
Let toes sow rows of excitement
To get to act as incitement
In my decision of your selection
For this is a competitive election
With me having the sole womandate

Hands climb poles to hold
Sending signals of egos sold
Some act shivering and cold
As others approach so bold to hold
Wriggling like kankabi
I still sing with a chuckle

I will give you soil to grow your trees
I will rain you slimes to aid your crimes
I will rear you bees to protect your hes
And sing in moans to your swinging rhymes
So dance in a sweaty harvest

Beasts wake in stretches
Even their sole eyes visible
Some beg in their wretches
I get up to taunt the terrible
My kente and dansikran regally decorating my shine into intimidation
As hands beg for relief for their third legs
A slap on each’s buttocks
A whip on standing snakes with lone eyes in needy dancing rhythm
That is a script well flipped
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 12, 2019


Grow gutsies gunning gains
…in glad games of great gold
…to get the gifts of goddesses pairing gods
…and not goddesses pairing gross

Wing winners without wanes of wins
…without weapons to wrench wings off wins
…with no wickedness working a wreck
For wills work well with we

Bought brutality breeds bad bosses
…breaking bones of bests
…beating brains in bright
…beasting bears of bliss
While boasting betters of the broken

Live and let’s live
…don’t live and let others leave
For living will be lonely
…and long
…if lifers cut loose lives
…with lurking loopholes

Grow the great to be greater
Wing the wingless to pair the winged
Banish brutality in broken brutes
Love is like light in the dark
…it works wonders in winning most worsts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 20, 2019


Hate her!
How hard the hoe hits heads of hes
Hurting hearts heated for her!
Hurt her!
Her hammer hardly has hands
Here, heavens help hes
So hiss and heap hatred on her!

She said sorry
Shocking sheroes sharing shivers
Sore somberly soothed,
She shunned serpentous shepherds’ serenades,
As she still searched a similar sir
Seeking a she-he-qual

Branded bended,
Bastards booed boldly
Beating betters badly in brotherhood
To boycott Betty
Breaking breasts
Belling-out beauty

Her heart humming happiness,
Still she smiles
Branding bullies bastards
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 5, 2019


Great girls-
… Bully boys
Regal layered, local-
…national, internationally pushed
A stampede so brutal-
… Egos lost through negligence still seeingly unseen
Oh there’ll be Bronya dresses
… And overused chalewote to match
Catastrophic catastrophe –
… Who says? The seers say!

The winds, before, pushed down lasses
Down dream hills
Making them shadows
Lost in wholes
And wholes, lost to societal stakes
Don’t you see the same winds blowing in the opposite?

Will you continue –
… this pattern?
Planting queens –
… beside servants?
None grows weeds amidst –
… prized plants
None farms thorns in farms
… to be inherited by the soft palmed
Seamstresses know their worth is accentuated –
… by footwear
So why leave existing shoes in abongelement –
… while making extravagant dresses?

This is who we are –
… Forgettors of work in progress
Passionaters of the new
Why can’t we do this and do that
And hold this and hold that
And grow this and grow that
Side by side
To avoid unyoked inequalities?

Must we always pull this –
…To fall that
And fall that-
…to push this?
Would you rather farm lone hands-
…in heavens
Or happy hands –
… in paradise?
We need no hells of loneliness in heavens!
We need no fire and ice
The former –
…burning to evaporate the latter
The latter –
…seeking to kill the flames of the other

You don’t brake –
…on this bite back
And focus –
…on a balance
You’ll see the basket of vindictiveness –
…you sent to fetch water
In place of –
…the pot of fairness

If you wish for –
…a never ending chaos
Of one side –
…always facing the ground
Then continue –
…continue creating that vulnerable –

We’re here –
…as ancestors or nsaman-twɛntwɛn
We’re here –
…as breakers or brakers
We’re here –
…As achievers or hopelessnesses

Whatever rides our consciences –
…on streets of righteousness and calm
Must be the wheels on our minds

Afterall –
…we know of dead goats –
…that is, if we’ve not acted them
We know of toothless barking dogs –
…that is, if we’ve not mimicked them into reality
We know of white elephantic hopes –
…if we’re not white elephantic cartoons
Where our development being on its mark –
…is concerned

So take the wings –
…of lads
And give them –
…to the lasses
…king one
To fix –
…the other and let’s clap for ourselves
Our wisdom knows no bound
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 18, 2019


So you are aggressively flying here and there
When most of your heads are hanging
Some in the hands of your owners
As your anger of blood gushes out like angry tap water fighting through a small hose
Masters, fly your last!

Ei! Look at the mould on your sense
Disgustingly hairier than abandoned spoilt foods of the gods
Look at the line of your words
Nonsensically crooked as though they come from a filthy sty
Just ask the mirror for the nature of your eyes
You are like a never lived vampire hanging between the power of the gods
And the will of spirits
Ah! Kon kon kon kon kon kon kon kon!
The time is wake-oclock!

Wake-oclock at the dawn of many sensible fingers
Holding erasers specially made for outmodedness and stupidity!
Stupidity that some souls must stay in their shadows to model their jittery steps!
The pickaxe of fairness has dug the tomb of misogyny!
The shovel of equality is waiting to clear the soil of egoism
To bury the dark which chained high minds to stakes of domesticity
So fly hither and tither with your last strength
Until you die to be birthed anew
Into the day of sensefulness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Oct. 12, 2018


Mr. says she is evil
Who allows more than a pestle to pound in her mortar
Mr. says she is petty
Who uses the many mortars a pestle pounds into to act same
His reason, pestles go whole and come not less
Mr. says pestles always come to their original mortars
After straying no matter how beautiful their adventures
But Mr. didn’t think of the mind always digging up
Emotions of hurts
In belongingness breached by outside poundings

Mr. thought not well through
Mr. spoke, sɛbi, from his pot of selfishness
In a normal world
Mortars can welcome more pestles at once
In this modern world
Nkofie which previously gave us out
Surely can be cleared even days or months ahead
Those questioning eyes should rather look into your reflection
In this modern world
A mortar’s ticklish wishes hide not in chains of morality
Why should “you do me” not embrace “I do you”?

By all means Mr. should hold his pestle on his charming forehead
Hammering away in welcoming mortars
But should be no Agokoli building a high fence in manipulations
What is a world of two where one’s explorations forbid the other?
What is a world of two when one fills his feelings and shuts another’s in?
What is a world of two when one’s guttering filth can fill a virtuous temple static in a land of holiness?
Mr. is like a goat building metal fence for a vulnerable sheep
Mr. thought not well through
Does he think himself superhuman?

As for me o
His haunts can’t taunt my hunt
As for me o
His “hei”s hurt not my “hi”s
As for me o
His poundings are tickets for my pounded
As for me o
The sky is one on our earthly pates
So “I do you, don’t do me” is his child play
Made up to tickle my nkro bɔ
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 28, 2018


Culture is like a cloth
Washed for its stains only to develop other taints
Time has travelled to see it merged like “nsaasaawa”
Making living confusing in acceptables
Making flaws contorting in reprimands
Time has washed the myths of trousers
Now shes freely live therein

Days which picked females like banku
And dipped them into okro sauces of men
To be swallowed and defecated at want
Days which built shadows in men for shes to live in
At best putting on clothes of unsung heroines
Have almost parked their vehicles

Since minds in fem-lands were explored
And platinums down to bronze were discovered
Since strength from soul stood on stages of hardship
From the spirit of motherhood
Since light and darkness confessed their fears in talents of lasses
Many have broken free
From tails of stale digging pleasure for leisure
Bragging rights to treasure
Gifting shame without measure
So who coughed “gyantraness” for all shes in this golden coast?

Lucy Quist to Patience Akyianu
Maidie Arkutu to Wear Ghana’s Agyemang
From Justice Theodora Wood to Naana Opoku Agyemang
Dr. Ama Ata Aidoo to Dr. Mrs. Nana
Ama Pokua Arthur
And all the numerous women in the power trousers of forcefulness
Live in this realm where Obaa Yaa Asantewaa led men to war in colonial times
So who spat the gross spittle of prostitution in adultererhood
On all the fine brains with clothes of decency of this land?

Tell me not that patriarchy paved this thought of insult
For real decency was a thread
Don’t tell tales of the weakness of a society
For many a lass live on their pockets
Don’t tell me that an existence of an anomaly
Is right to call for shame for real vectors
Common sense speaks in the sentence “Choose your words carefully”
But what even happened to the moral of the proverb
“Wash not thy dirty linen in public”?
Do you know the fecal matter in that of mockers?

It is a sad day
When a woman definitely feels the pain of childbirth
From the nonsense that walked through the mouth
Of a nine moon traveller schooled to go wrong
A thought stamped non entity without a pounding hole
Bagging all including her travelled womb
In a gutter sack of naughts
Selling us out in a print on minds of some ignoramuses
Whose brains will forever keep our tag
In annoying reminders
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2018

The Peppering Reality

They claim if a woman buys a gun, it is kept in the room of a man. Nonsensical nonsense! I feel the men who lived in those times and still exist in the now need refurbishment of brains in order to see where their “waatonkyene” vehicle is now parked to gift them a clear vision of the polished Limousines and V8s parading the streets of the now. These ears have heard them all; a woman’s place is in the kitchen (when men have feet to carry them there and two hands and a brain to cook), a woman is man’s property (as if men are born with additional months other than nine), a woman needs a man to be complete (as if completion is measured by their penises), a woman without a man is a prostitute (as if a woman prostitutes by herself), a woman with a mind and a mouth is bitter ( at this point I know only those who feel real bitterness are able to point out the bitter.)
Why will I fight so hard for three degrees, work so hard for a place in the society, build my personality well for respect only to play second fiddle to a man? Why? Do they have special powers to know my death date from my birth? “Abufuwsem akwaakwa”.

Just look at Ama, fine lady she was in her twenties. A classmate, now with even grey hair at thirty one. After four children, her body is like that of an aged cow. She cleans, cooks, washes and pampers that cheating husband of hers who makes her feel less than an uncared for dog. Imagine me with my manicured fingernails and polished face, cleaning and cooking like a slave. Why? What are maidservants for? And why the hell will I pamper a cheating husband when HIV/AIDS is living in bodies with no seen tags?

To me, a cheating husband must leave the house the very instant he is caught. A man must also take up his roles in the house. If I cook today, he must clean and do the dishes, if I bath the children, he must take them to school, if I wash our clothes, he must definitely dry them, if I take them off the drying lines, he surely must iron and fold them into the wardrobe. Why? Because we all earn income and are forming an equal home. Even the Bible says a woman should HELP the man not take over all the work in his house. What is submission without reciprocity? Did my mother gave birth to me to be enslaved by someone or stay in the shadow of some man? If the shadow is a good place to be, why the hell are they running their mouths in insults at even the thought that they could take the place of women in the kitchen? It is the uncouth men who shout the loudest! Empty barrels they say…! The annoying thing is that most are educated illiterates with no travelling experience. Yes, no travelling experience. They will surely argue and rain insults when they hear this but ask them where they have been to on earth, and you will hear “I travelled from Ho to Hohoe, Nkawkaw to Obo, Sagnerigu to Kumbungu, Tech Junction to Ejisu” and other laughable submissions.

Nothing irks me like the travelled ones who act like domestic dogs abroad only to come back to their roots to act like kings of their home-made-jungles! Look at Lamisi’s husband who cooked and invited my boyfriend and I in Connecticut. When I visited them in their home in Accra, he sat in a sofa with legs crossed, throwing instructions around like a farmer ordering his hen. “Lamisi, did you only serve water? There is a champagne in the cellar. Hurry and serve them. Also prepare something delicious for them”. A second later, when the children were heard fighting over a ball, he opened his gutter to utter the most annoying insult I have ever heard “Lamisi, in the Name of Allah, control your children!” As if the children were not his, but when the conversation settled on the kids’ performance in school; “Oh they are really great! Whose children are they after all? Mine of course!” I felt like blowing his mind up with a hammer of words but Rob, my boyfriend held and pleaded with me with his eyes as I painfully watched Lamisi sweep, wipe tables, do dishes while being sent on errands intermittently by the man who just sat gratifying himself with unnecessary talks about the cold snow and difficult life abroad. Ha! And I am sure he would jump on her like a pig at night without mercy! Such a filthy parody of man!

That evening, as I sat to think of all the unfair treatments meted out to women, I could not help but cry at the injustice our supposed illiterate ancestors committed against our poor mothers and decided to make them see reality. Kofi Nkwantannan’s proposal came in handy when my boyfriend asked me for a break. After sleeping over, I woke him up to lay the bed, sweep the room and prepare some breakfast for me. His eyes opened like an owl, his mouth like a made-belief dragon, the only missing point being the fires they are rumoured to spit. So, I pulled him from my bed naked, pushed him outside and threw his clothes on him all the while telling him “Who can marry a man who sleeps like a log in his woman’s house? Good luck finding a highly brought up lady like me!” I banged the door on him and warned him to clean up his drool on my doorsteps before leaving.

And there was Habib. Guy just wanted me to meet his family, but I suggested he met mine first. Then he came to my house dressed in a jeans trousers and a T. Shirt. The arrogance of a growing monkey! I sacked the nigga from my house and made sure he never stepped foot in my house again with my well chronicled vocabulary which brought tears in his eyes. Imagine a lady dressed like that to meet potential in-laws in a lass domestication home!

Asona had the nerve to tell a close pal of mine that he slept with me. In his presence, I told that close pal and all those present about his thick and short penis which couldn’t even function properly. The nigga got really peeved and took out his penis for all to see. Tried as he did to make it wake for all to see, it slept like a dead log all through, shaming him the more. I felt good and in control then. Who codified a law that states only a woman can be shamed for her sexuality?

I wore my cool mini skirt and sleeveless top with high heels to church only for an elder to tell me to go home and change so as not to attract the men with the aura of my sinful accoutrements. I only gathered my friends, went to the church dressed to kill and sat how we liked in the front row as pastors stuttered, elders tried to swallow all the waterings of their mouths, choirmaster fought to hide his sheepish excitement only for the women’s leader to come with pieces of cloths for us to cover ourselves up! I gave it to her from left to right, centre to back and front. In fact, I dressed her very well in a covering kaba and slit with a headgear, did her makeup to suit her and added the 70’s old shoes and ear rings to match. Don’t be too excited, they were all fashioned with my insult fabrics.

Imagine a dunce of a woman telling me I am no wife material. I asked her how many yards she was and she was there yapping like an unschooled idiot! Should I be a patriarchal princess to be treated like a trash doll? Looked at only when pleasure bells call? God forbid!

Amandzi is a real idiot! I just had a one night stand with him and he came back crying like a naive girl. What annoys me is that lady who took over someone’s husband and was jilted like a milk tin. She too had the mouth to say I am not a proper lady and that I am a shame to womanhood. An unmarked slave like that! Is it her concern if I decide to abort a pregnancy? In fact, whose concern is it? Is it not my own body? Why must anyone decide for me? I doubt she is getting some from any area boy. She surely is cranky because of all the Mary and Jesus’ cross that some riffraff gives gives her in a blue moon. I hear those princesses can hardly take control in their bedrooms. Such idiots! They “yes please” themselves even to be ridden like animals sedated to be killed in abattoir-like rooms.

I decided to jilt Koo Kumi after dating him for a month. Guy was cool and did everything I wanted but he was just too boring for my liking. I needed an excuse and told him that I am breaking up with him because he was not a virgin when we first slept together. Guy’s face mirrored a horror movie. Why do men find these things normal when it involves women but think they should not apply to them? Those who annoy me are the pastors and malllams who use their books to subdue women and make them feel less of themselves. I have created my own God and I pray to him to deal with them. The Bible and Quran was surely written by ego bloated men who needed chains to cage their women. Let anyone come to me with those scriptures and I will show them bullets and bombs can be found in some voices.

Atta, the village crook now tells people I serve the devil because I asked him to go down on me. It is amazing how horses of the past now try to make planes look alien in the present. He is one of those “gafara” men who “enter” their women like jerks, without foreplay. How do some women cope with some of these men?

I am now a topic among rumour mongers because I insisted my friend got a divorce from her husband of eight years after he slapped her. Why? Should I have left her there? The annoying thing is that that ungrateful Sherry is now blaming me for being single. Such a piece of shit! She would rather be married and unhappy than single and free. What is wrong with everybody and where at all is everyone, dear diary?

Abena Jemremedua © Feb. 2018 inspired by Kofi Gbedemah.

Photo Credit: Google Pics


Why did we not get rods?
Why did we not get skies?
Why did we not get water
To easily slip and hide in the land?

Why did we not get moons?
Why did we not get stars?
Why did we not get airs
To escape when enemies chase?

You gave us lands
Which vary
Some attract good gardeners
Who plant flowers
And all that feeds all
Including our lands

Some attract thieves
Who dig for gold
And leave holes with depths untold
Collecting rains which wound our lands
And cause more harm
Than monstrous demons

Some attract none
So weeds do play
Strays use as bays
And when they last in age and time
They do decay
After their sand turn clay
And end as mud
Which sit in white elephancy
We keep lands
Like security men do banks
Who knows when thieves can break through?
We are unfortunate
We women
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


That I am a feminist
Does not make me a porcupine
Shooting at anyone or anything
When I feel threatened
Afterall cuddling moves the heart to work
In satisfaction and hope

That I am a feminist
Makes me no violent hen
Pecking and chasing
Just because I can
The fact that I am treated as one
Caught and gifted or sold
Does not mean I should give justification
That I am indeed a hen
Where on earth will the reasoning lie?
Even if I am made God’s hen
Then they originally are the cocks
Without a cock
Will I be able to procreate?

Feminism is no crown
For off-targeters
That I am a feminist
Makes me take the humility of a sheep
And not act like a rebellious goat
Telling my artificial master
That I feel the pain
And to let me have what God gave
The freedom to live
The rights to hope
The love to dream
And the happiness to work
And to free me from the closed fence

That I am a feminist
Makes me no monster
Roaring and bellowing like a lioness
To chase all living
Breaking and scattering
To cause commotion

That I am a feminist
Means I hope for what I need
To be retained in opposition
To secure me
To secure men
So as not to grow manism

Cut the tongues of serpents
Throw no brutal words
Shoot no bullets to kill
A feminist is peaceful
A feminist works with plea
Dedication and reasoning
That I am a feminist
Does not make me abnormal
All I seek is the sanity
Prompted by emotions and love
To birth results of freedom
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016
Inspired by a Facebook conversation about feminism.


Dear man
She is not a woe unto man
That will make you a woe chaser
Neither is she a witch of man
For that will make you a witch craver
She is not a worker of man
That would make you her employer
She is not a watcher of man
That will make her your bodyguard
She is not a weakness of man
That will make you seeker of the weak
She is not a winner of man
That will make you a loser
She is simply a wonder version of man
Making you the origin
Although God gave her the origin key
You certainly need a grip
For your sanity
You need a grip
For your lot
Make her no tags
For you will always wear her
Boldly around your neck
Like a very visible bow-tie
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



They fall
Fall at the feminine feet
Which has more than a masculine mind
Shouting blessings
Blessings which show pain on their faces
Pain they try to mask with humour with no success
What is it about ego?
Did God create this soul
To make men feel inadequate?
Like cornered rats, they look
Sometimes with adoration
Sometimes with yearnings to have and flaunt
Sometimes wearing bold faces of hatred
Sometimes with curses upon their meagre minds
Sometimes in lust of the words pounded by her teeth and tongue
Sometimes with intents of casting a spell of chains
Chains to have this soul deranged;
Obviously a wish of revenge
For casting doubts on their competence
Maybe in their shoes, I will wish same
Because losing a mental battle to an elephant
Is prestigious than losing to a mosquito
And yes, this soul is like the noisy mosquito
Whose noise drums on all the right points
It’s a sour world to them
But a very sweet melting ice cream dipped with a little guilty bitterness
Dripping into the mouth of this soul
Why can’t I be mischievous?
Interesting how a kitchen mind trashes minds of societal gods
Let them for once in their untamed godship
Worship a goddess whose head deserves their crown
For God willed it so
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Flowers-Crushed-Main_article_imageExcited, I felt the pangs of passions

Anxious, I yearned for thoughts of favour

Loving, I waited for the angelic verdict

But in he came with a plan to have

And hold firm another flower in bloom

Oh God!

And I felt dirty in gentle thoughts


How odd

I could have shrugged it off

How odd

I could have guttered the thoughts

But being dirty in gentle thoughts

Smelt suffocation

Smelt pain

Smelt hell

And I sought clearly to be well


Why are they mostly like that?

Like dirty water in slippery gutter

They sail dragging piety in their dirt

They pass caring not about wails in derail

Women are Woes Of Menace and End-Stars

Sad, so sad

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Ao! She has told me blankly

I went to bath my hair

But I ended up staining my ears

Abena, I have heard it all now


She says I have a hole like her

And I need a digger, lest it fills up with dirt

She said she has been studying me like a cat

And has seen no digger’s feet in my compound

So she shyly barks my beauty as she tells me my duties

Abena I have heard it all now


Maybe she wants me to be like her

With a digger still digging her bottomless pit

And digging all her siblings and visitors

While starving her nourishing edibles

And making her fend for the golden dirt he digs out of her

Abena, I have heard it all now


What makes many trashy mouths bold?

Do I look like one dirt is to be sold?

One look at her and I needed not be told

That she languishes in painful ignorant-minded cold

And needs a great mind to hold

Or she will never find her prideful gold

Abena, I am struck into disbelief, my mouth peg-folded

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015


They claim we claim gooses are like ganders
And ganders are like gooses
Their goodies, the same
Their bothers, the same
So circumcision is a decision
None fights for a cock
So none must fight for a hen
Abena, I say bullshit!
Leave your danglers if you like
But leave them clits alone

It is cruel
To take away the pleasure
It is mean
To clamour for a treasure
It is savagery
To roast, burn and ground a godly pleasure tool
Making feelings wooden
Making hearts stone
Clouding conception
And making it rain pain within when night bells wake
Stop the bullshit!
Stop the savagery!
Stop the silliness!
Be humans!
Be sane!
Sanity is humanity!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Flowers in colours
What are you blooming to show?
Attraction to your nectar?
By droppings of scents?
“Dib dib dib, dibi dibi di haa
Dib dib dib, dibi dibi di haa”


Flowers with paints
What are you painting to show?
Erasing of age routes?
Concealment of colour?
“ka ka ka, Kai Kai Kai ki kaa
Ka ka ka, Kai Kai Kai ki kaa”


Flowers with pen hands
What are you writing to show?
That you are spirits to be worshipped?
gods to be bowed to?
“wu wu wu, wui wui wui wiii waa
wu wu wu, wui wui wui wii waa”


Flowers of bowing
Why are you bowing like slaves?
To stand in shadows?
Be kowtowed in finger bands?
“ah ah ah, aha aha ahaaaa
ah ah ah, aha aha ahaa”


Flowers of sadness
What are you sorrowing to show?
Pain of some tramplings?
Shame of some hurtings?
“co co co, cor cor cor cor’d
co co co, cor cor cor cor’d”


Nectars stay in
Pulling with scents
Drippings eventually empties their barrels
Those paints are inks
Washable by rain
Painting drains
And cost a ton
Pens are mighties
To be used fairly to shine
To spiritize is horror
For its gods are ruthless
Bowing is for God or gods
Shadows are for once livers
Getting one’s shadow
To push another, writes well, writes well
Sadness needs an outlet
An outlet of saintly revenge
To hush the hurters
And rain blood in their hearts
So “pu pu push, pu pu push for betters
Pu pu pu, pu pu push for betters”
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



I heard a huge noise in the land

Like the fall of a huge tree

Guess what I saw parting the path; the sand.

The sand which apparently had the huge fall seems not to be free

It has taken a meal that is uneatable, I know

The vultures stand shivering in fear closing their mouths to all corpes

For fear of mistaking yours for the ordinary

But you must be smiling.

Born to suppression.

Your spirit screamed “please less oppression”

Your heart yearned for freedom

Your environs screamed with impunity “you are less in this kingdom”

What was a human with freedom bombs fixed in her DNA to do in a suppressed kingdom?

The world rebelled your existence

Your trust put into the wrong person, got up suddenly

And bit you in the heart by taking your pride,

The unripe pride that many do not look out for until later

But your strength overrided your hurt and you gayed in positivism.

Growing free and learning what there was to be learned from second generational elders

And being played by powhittrashes, you hoped for a better tomorrow

A female with no looks

Must always learn the books

To avoid ending up in the group of the crooks

You learned, aimed for nothing the world could not give;

Just to be a bus conductor

But the world would have none of it.

You roamed in your caged little world

And sang until the world heard your beautiful voice

And tried removing some shackles

Which let you loose with supervision

You were forced into the social vice of selling smiles

After becoming an unriped tree with a fruit

With time, you became that free bird

Who taught, let out minds of many,

And sought to free other caged birds and succeeded.

Why won’t this bird rest in a peaceful nest?

Maya Angelou

You will rest in the most Perfect of Peace

Because wings of female eagles like you are not breakable

I know your spirit is flying above us like an angel

Covering loved beings in trouble

We are thankful;

Women of the modern world

We are thankful;

Women who are born with wings

We are thankful;

Women born with voices in worlds that hid us

We will continue in the path you made

Until it becomes a flawless tarred road

So rest at ease accomplished bird,

Rest knowing you left this world a better place for your kind

Rest knowing you contributed immensely

And we all felt your impact and will forever be thankful.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.


It was a slap

No, it was a hit

No it was a mock slap

No it was a slab hit

Her face was the surface

And her body was the ground

He hit it until she fainted

And what was the cause?

She did not cook on time

A woman is not mud

A woman is not without feelings of pain

A woman is not a born slave

A woman is not immune to sicknesses

A woman is human

She is human too Please treat her with care

And love

For though illiterate,

A woman is still a vessel

A vessel nature uses to bless humanity.

 Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


As we mark Women’s Day what comes to your mind as a human who seeks to empower other women in Africa and beyond? I see us failing in many aspects of this long course to empowerment. Why? Many women in rural areas know nothing about self-worth not to mention self-empowerment that is why. If you are in the southern part of Ghana,(Where I was brought up) I mean in the cities, you will not realize the seriousness of this particular canker that is eating deep into the very fabric of our nation. Because the men there are empowered enough to have regard for their women; except in few instances when they want to show their masculinity. If you really want to see how some women are treated unfairly in this world, you might want to travel to the villages in the north and observe the shape of abuse of women’s rights and its appalling sightly scent.

Their opinions do not count, whatever you are, no matter how competent, your take on issues will only languish in your head and rot there. If you are disrespectful enough to air those views, you may be branded a witch and sent to a witch camp or be beaten to serve as a lesson to all your likes. That aside, where men are gathered, women must flee. They only surface when food and water are needed for entertainment purposes. In recent times. The only woman that may be entertained in a gathering of men is the very old lady who is regarded because of age and wisdom or the very rich woman who can grease their palms. In short, the women are the incubators, servants and possessions. (It sounds like a cliche that I keep mentioning this, I am not so much into we attaining equality than we being given the needed respect as humans) I do not mean to take this to a religious level but many men who cannot even afford to feed their very own selves, tend to marry three or four women, aside the many concubines using religion as the beautiful cover of this very sad and unfair story. By doing so, the women are left to fend for themselves and their children. I wonder though why they covet free spirited women like me who will not take their nonsense. I wonder how they can even degenerate into a servant level just to engage in a conversation with a “southern witch” like me. (I presume the southern witches appeal more than the northern witches)

Women who have never been taught how to do anything apart from helping in the house and on the farm must now till the land and sweat with babies strapped on their backs under the very scorching sun. The very lucky women are those whose people help them learn either hairdressing or the dressmaking. How much will such a person get at the end of the month to help her take care of her irresponsible husband, many children and in some instances, siblings, cousins and nephews?

What puts so much angst in me is they subduing girls, stifling their talents, thrashing their self-worth by telling them they are nothing but possessions of men unknown or in some cases known old men. That trade banter where fathers owe their peers so much and tend to use their unborn children or day old children to pay still persists. How unfair these girls are being treated! No wonder they spare no chance in migrating to the south even if it is to indulge in prostitution or porting. What did these young women do to warrant the wrath of the African land?

Many a times, being a teacher in the best and biggest secondary school in the north, I see many things, hear many things that cause me to weep in my room. The tears that flow mostly are not for me, but for those whose lives I can do nothing about. Those I see in my school I tend to try to empower. And I have realized that telling girls they are pretty, they matter, they can be so much more if they only get some confidence and allowing them to express themselves in ways they want to, go a long way to right their wrong minds. I as a teacher will never stand idle as male students tell my females to sweep because they are girls. Never! If you ask my students, they will tell you that she makes the boys sweep with the girls. That duty roaster must always be mixed. Where the boys are proving stubborn, I make them sweep alone. I nurture the confidence of these young ones in everything I do. I will never let them be given special treatments for being girls, I have realized that that is the very reason they are treated like they have no brains most times. Whereas the boys must respect the girls, the girls too must respect the boys and themselves.

I find it very degrading and offensive when our mothers continue to put bad ideas in the heads of our girls. Sayings like “sԑ ↄbaa tↄ tuo a, ԑtwere bԑԑma bo” transliterating if a woman buys a gun, it is strapped on the chest of a man in the Akan parlance is too outmoded to be used in modern times. While travelling with some of my students last week, our vehicle got stuck in Techiman and we had to get down to allow the fitters work on it. Where we happen to rest, an elderly woman came there praising my girls and giving them what she thought were blessings.

“You have done well; girls who go to school are blessings. God will bless you so that when you grow up you will become wives of presidents, ministers, accantants and all the important men in the world”

The naïve children responded “Amen” Then I said, no madam, these girls you see here will be the accountants, the ministers, and all the important people in the world, and so will the boys. Their lives will not be dependent on men. I refuse that they will tag along men and be nothing but wives. I thought about this and I am still thinking about this, with such mentality, how do we build the confidence of girls to strive for the best?

A girl is a future woman. A girl can be the future woman who can have it all; a good job, and a loving family. A girl is the future woman who must bring up her children and have a say in their affairs. A girl today is the brightest future, the moon of the future (The moon which must brighten the sad angry darkness and pave way for the sun) while the boy is the sun shining in the already bright day. I am doing my bid to help in empowering women I come across, I cut some chains of subduction of girls enhancing them to spread their wings and fly. What are you doing in empowering the gender that is the very foundation of men?



“She was a witch from her childhood

While the girls played

She coveted the boys’ sticks

While girls cried for dolls

She wept for a machete and a catapult

While her fellow girls held their mothers’ skirts

She cut her father’s knickers to fit her

I tell you, she was a witch from her mother’s womb” Aduko says


Fire is hot

Ice is cold

Life is too short

For me to hold

I am a woman but I have the zeal

And I’m not backing out until life’s deal is sealed (Asibi sings whiles working)


“Ei! No wonder she is the richest farmer in the whole of Adukro

I bet she has charmed all of us and taken our glory

Now men are boys in her presence, begging this and begging that

Almost everyone in this village owes her

Asibi must be what you say she is;

A witch who does not even fear flying in broad daylight” Akuoko Laments


 “Then you people are very flexible

If it were my village she would have been caught

And sent straight to where she belongs

Look at her stupid husband

Caressing the tail of his lioness”


“Do not mind him

If it were you

What will you do?

We must think of a plan before we die of shame

Baba Alata must be brought here” Kromo cries


Fire is hot

Ice is cold

Life is too short

For me to hold

I am a woman but I have the zeal

And I’m not backing out until life’s deal is sealed (Asibi sings whiles working)


“She is truly a witch

One of a kind

Who takes the strength of all men

And uses it to her benefit

Until she is lynched, I ‘m sorry to say

All you men will never be free”


“But Baba, the police will arrest us

If we lynch her

No one sees her flying in the dark

But when we try ours, we will surely be in jail” Ohufo mews like a meek cat


“Look at the coward

Someone has given you a bed and you ask for a wife

If you are afraid, we will do it

We must be free of this snake

So we can also prosper” Aduko bemoans


“But do it with tact

You may land in trouble as Ohufo said

So do it with sense” Baba Alata says with his back turned as his ahenemma flaps one at a time


“It’s been three years since Asibi was burnt with her family

This village loses inhabitants every day

She brought men to work here

Now our men go in search of work

She brought food to the hungry mouth

Now mouths live on shrubs

She brought laughter to the sad faces

Now our faces show our sadness

None can be her, none will be her

Asibi was one

One in a million” Ohufo says


“Even I am appalled

Baba Alata must have led us astray

He told us to lynch her” Aduko says


“Do not blame him

You started it Aduko

You said she was a witch from her mother’s womb

You are the enemy we seek

Always sleeping and expecting food to fall from the gods

Lazy cocoon!” Kromo shouts


“And you agreed

Please leave me alone

I am not the only one at fault here

You all agreed, we all hatched the plan

Even you Ohufo knew but said nothing

So no one is free from her family’s extinction” Aduko says in exasperation


“You were foolish

We kill humans but we use their properties

You burnt humans and their properties

While you sit here and cry

Now we live

Like fowls

We pick what we see

And wander where our feet take us

“Asibi the witch, how I miss your songs” Kromo says

“Asibi the witch how I miss your food” Aduko says

“Asibi the witch, how I miss your money”  Kwaa Appiah says

“Asibi the witch, how I miss your human filled village” Kotoko says

All turn and say outloud:

“The damp finally spoke”

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.