THE YELLOW SHIRTS HAVE GONE MISSING

PICTURE OF A YELLOW SHIRT
Courtesy: dresshollywood.com


They were a novelty,
A new beginning
Signs of better things to come
An effort to put idle hands to work.


They wore yellow shirts over black pants
With caps to match,
Give them leather boots and horses,
And they just might get parts
In a western cowboy flick.


They manned busy intersections
Directing traffic.
They brought much needed numbers
To an understaffed police force.
You could call them the policeman’s assistant.


They were helpful,
They looked cheerful,
Work gave ‘em a means to earn a living,
Might not have been a living fit for a king
But it was an honest living.


With time, they became a fixture of our streets,
Playing an integral part in society’s everyday beat,
Doing their bit just so society could tick,
They wore no colours other than yellow and black,
A uniform that bore no allegiance
They identified with no one but the Ghanaian state.
They belonged to no particular individual but
The Ghanaian nation.


Therefore, is it not amusing that
When the king lost his throne,
A new crown in his place,
The yellow shirts have all gone away?
They all seem to have magically disappeared,
Probably, they came with expiry dates.
Then again, who knows?
Guess they were not built to last that long,
Disposable, just like paper napkins and plastic cups.


All they did was stay cheerfully yellow,
Be it in a traffic jam
The pouring rain
Sticky situations
Or the scorching sun.


They are now a part of yesterday’s history lesson
Gone are the days of the men
And women in yellow.
Several hundreds sent home
For no real reason.
Just because they were the brainchild of a predecessor
Several hundreds sent away,
Just so another’s sympathizers can take their place
Wholesale changes, the order of the day
Cleanup crews looking to give foot soldiers a fix.


Out with yellow,
In with the blue,
Herald the dawn of the men and women in blue,
Guess the new king
Came with new people too
Wonder how he went about finding these new ones.


Whatever happened to those without colours?
Are they any less Ghanaian?
When did we lose the right to demand from society our due?
What happens to those who refuse pledge allegiance?
When did having a conscience become a crime?
When did continuity become wrong?
Does party colours make one more Ghanaian than the other?
Where is it written that a king comes to serve a select few?
A select few, affectionately called foot soldiers
Yes men
And all kinds of bootlickers.


Democracy never demanded that we all agree,
Democracy demands we all be given
An equal chance regardless our views.
So much for our growing Democracy.
What hypocrisy
Comical
Welcome to our democratic charades
Welcome to the death of free speech
The death of opinions
And independent thinking,
These are the days of bootlickers,
Hungry weeds and selfish thieves
Welcome to this blue political parade.

MADIBA, TUTU, ANNAN - A DYING BREED OF AFRICAN VISIONARIES

Pictures Courtesy: nobelprize.org, Africanbeats106.com



Their very names inspire pride
They are testament to the fact that
Africa breeds more than just poverty, disease and war
There’s intellect in the bosom of Africa.


They light up stages wherever they go,
They embody a rare form of African
Success in our world today.


But they’re old,
Gradually embracing greying hairs,
Bald patches,
Frail limbs and
Declining health.


Madiba, a people’s rallying cry,
A unifying force,
He stood tall in the face of segregation.
Now, age slowly takes Madiba away,
Africa!! Point out to us
Tomorrow’s Madiba today.


The Archbishop Tutu retires from public life,
With it his welcoming smile,
Infectious laughter
Wit and perfect humour
On that chair sits the Archbishop's cap
Waiting to sit atop a worthy head.


Kofi Annan sat atop the U.N throne
Like an African witch doctor,
He wowed the world,
Casting a spell over an entire world.
Come the end of his tenure,
The world asked for a second helping,
They just couldn’t get enough of this true son of Africa,
The loudest encore went to Africa’s Kofi Annan.
In the corn fields sits Kofi’s shoes,
Which son of Africa shall soon walk in Annan’s shoes?


These wise ones slowly leave the stage
Applause and whistles at a crescendo,
Their light shines bright even in old age
Overworked, tired and begging reprieve,
Crying out for worthy successors.


As they depart,
The African stage sits empty,
Not a single heir worthy of their thrones,
Just thrill seekers
And tainted lads
Parading around with shifty eyes
Toothy smiles
Salty tongues
Filled with greed and selfish thoughts.


Africa!!!
Your tomorrow looks bleak
Your tomorrow is blighted today
The true sons of Africa no longer exist today.


I cry for Africa’s tomorrow today,
I see you gradually lose your way day by day,
Corruption and greed has become your mainstay,
Herald the dawn of the greedy weeds.
They paint the continent in selfish needs,
Swaying the gullible to their heart’s content.


As clock winds down on these true sons of Africa,
The talking drums await a new age,
The new generation of visionaries to bear the load,
The new ones who will whip the talking
Drums of Africa into frenzy again.


Africa lies bleeding in the wilderness,
Vultures circling
Lapping at their crooked beaks
Waiting patiently for Africa’s demise.


But even in slavery,
Africa arose,
In hunger and poverty
Africa!!! Does slowly rise
Cumbered by the greedy weeds.
In adversity, Africa always did arise,
Like Madiba did on Robin Island,
Like the Archbishop in the era of apartheid,
Like Kofi Annan at in times of war, hunger, poverty and disease.

Arise Africa!!!
Call forth Tomorrow’s Madiba’s today,
Give us the Tutu’s of tomorrow’s day,
Point out Kofi’s successors today,
For come the morning of tomorrow’s day,
Termites and bickering weeds would have overrun your stage.

A DEADLY GAME OF HEALTH INSURANCE

CLIPART OF A DOCTOR AND PATIENT
Courtesy: www.iclipart.com



Splendid news I tell you,
Splendid news
They thought of health insurance
What perfect news
All who heard gave them rave reviews
Health insurance,
That sounded way better than
Our present pay per view,
Sorry, I meant cash and carry.


People were sent all across the nation
Adverts were shown on television
With sketches and demonstrations
Almost all local dialects were employed in this exercise,
The entire nation was blanketed


The poor broke their piggy banks,
Others went hungry for days
Just to make the necessary payment,
Some worked overtime,
Doing both day and the graveyard shifts,
All clamouring for a piece of healthy insurance.


Eventually the health insurance messiah rolled
Out amidst pomp and pageantry.
Instead of cash,
The infirmed carried insurance cards
To the hospitals.
This really was a novelty.


But there were a few grey areas in this insurance,
We were not quite sure what sort
Of ails were not covered under this insurance.
All they said was,
Most ailments were covered.
Questions were far from few but we played along.


Kofi visited the hospital one early morning,
He complained of a sharp pain in his side,
After waiting in the queue for an eternity,
He got to see the miracle working doctor.
A few queries and tests yielded results,
Apparently, Kofi had appendicitis
Minor surgery was necessary.
Then came unhealthy news
This sort of insurance did not cover Kofi’s ailment
Kofi and his appendix were on their own.


A fortnight ago, Paul was taken ill
He felt feverish all through the night
And could barely eat a thing the next morning.
Mummy rushed him to the nearest hospital
Health insurance card in hand
After a long and uncomfortable wait,
They finally saw the doctor.
He diagnosed Paul’s condition as malaria
Picked up his pen and began scribbling on his pad.


He sent them to the dispensary with a prescription,
Mummy presented the prescription at the counter
Took a seat and patiently waited
Paul lay on the hospital bench,
Shaking uncontrollably like a leaf.
Eventually, the pharmacist called out Paul’s name
Mummy went forward only to be given unhealthy news,
Only paracetamol was available,
The others had to be bought elsewhere with cold cash,
Oh!!! what a deathly insurance.


In spite of the shortcomings of this insurance,
The people embraced it wholeheartedly,
After all, it was still work-in-progress.
The long queues
The lengthy processes,
Photocopying of documents
And other headaches brought on by this insurance,
But this was way better than the previous
Cash and carry health care system.


Then one day,
In came a new sheriff,
The old one lost his coveted seat,
New sheriff sat back, tanning his hide,
Watched the insurance scheme run aground,
Calling it a bogus scheme,
Leaking like a sponge just out of water,
He said it was an unhealthy scheme,
Had a better one on paper
He’d unveil soon so please watch this space.
Now the hospitals no longer accept
Health insurance cards as payment.
It is cash and carry all over again,
The poor and infirmed sit in the wards
Without cash, mourning the
Death of a fledgling health insurance.
Others who have cash now subscribe to pay as you go.


Battered, bruised and unfairly coloured
There lies our novelty
Our messiah of a healthy insurance.
There he lies writhing in pain,
The grim reaper’s scythe in his side,
A man with an umbrella towering over him.
He lies bleeding on the marble floor
The tears of the infirmed, his only company.
I’m off to find him a healthy casket
An eco friendly one, befitting his status.
He tried his best to make health accessible to all,
Was never perfect
But he was a healthy beginning
Yet they killed him,
Said he was as clumsy as a drunken elephant,
They killed him for no real reason.


I’m now done pasting the obituary notices
The gong gong beater will beat his gong tomorrow,
In a fortnight’s time we shall gather
Under the sacred mango tree and say goodbye
To our health insurance.
Come one, come all, come let’s bid him farewell,
You can come clad in red, black or blue
But please!! Do bring along your insurance cards,
We shall throw them into his casket
While lowering him into the ground,
An insurance scheme assassinated by dirty tricks
He left behind a wife and five children.


Could they not have propped him up?
They’ve taken the shirts of peoples backs
Without the slightest bit of moral qualm,
Removed the very ground from underneath their feet,
Sentenced many to die
Many sure have died
Just so they could make a point.
We await your version of health insurance.
But before I go, a word of caution,
Do not show your face at the funeral grounds
For grief makes sane people act irrationally.
Fare thee well oh health insurance,
As unhealthy as you may have been
You were a worthwhile beginning,
Our pioneering march towards a healthy insurance.

DEMOCRACY - AN ALIEN LOST IN AFRICA'S TALKING DRUMS

A VOTER CASTING A BALLOT IN AN ELECTION
Picture Courtesy: www.un.org



On the 4th of March 2010,
Togo held presidential elections,
All votes had been cast,
Counting began in earnest,
When the counting was done,
Incumbent was declared winner.


The opposition was up in arms,
Made demands for the real election results
Alleging voting irregularities.
Opposition protests in the streets,
Police in riot gear deployed
Broke up protests
Setup barricades
Amidst cries of a constitutional right to protest.


EU observers said,
There was no vote tampering,
Had reservations about,
Lack of permanent ink in places,
Possibility of double voting by military personnel.


Fancy a blast from the past?
Togolese Presidential Elections in 2005
Post election violence reared its
Head in 2005 after an election in Togo,
Left more than 400 dead,
Sent thousands fleeing across the border into Ghana and Benin.


Disbelief at Chad voter figures,
African observer mission said,
Turnout was impressive,
Stood at 60%,
Most people were shocked,
Did 60% really turn up?
A journalist did remark,
Did we watch the same election?


Other sources,
Put turnout at 10%,
The Electoral Commission Chairman,
He put turnout figures at more than 70%,
Guess 60% + 10% will always equal 70% or more.


Opposition,
Boycotted the poll,
Said it would be rigged,
Saw it coming from far far away.
Refused to field candidates,
Civil rights groups all joined in the boycott.


African Observer team,
Came at the invitation of
Chad’s National Independent National Electoral Commission.
Observer team said, in our opinion,
The poll was free,
Fair and transparent.
Described voting as “brisk and enthusiastic”.


Casual observers said,
Turnout appeared low,
Only a handful trickled to stations.
By afternoon,
The capital had become a ghost town,
Streets, businesses and shops,
Completely deserted.
Opposition,
We believe even a 2% voter turnout
Figure would be quite generous.


The Aftermath of the 2007 Kenyan elections,
Lawlessness,
Walked the streets for days
In the company of misguided peasants
And ordinary people.


Death and destruction,
Chaos and mayhem
Painted Kenya
In different hues,
Left behind victims and deceased alike.


Sexual violence,
Carried out by gangs of thugs,
Security forces and neighbours.
A woman’s pride in tatters
Rags and forever shattered lives,
Suffering in silence,
Unplanned pregnancies and
A dark cloud of disease, the wretch, AIDS,
Hang ominously above the victim’s head.


Racial hatred,
Growing friction between ethnic groups,
Festering dynamics of inter-ethnic killings.
Mob,
Set fire to church,
Women and children found sanctuary inside,
Burnt alive on Holy ground,
An unholy act by ordinary men
Instigated by misguided leaders.


An African leader headed for a life presidency,
Central African Republic, a nation with an eternal ruler,
A controversial constitution amendment,
A man is handed an indefinite mandate.
Pro-government elements said,
This decision was necessary
To bury altercations over the electoral process,
Such altercations could lead to break down in law and order.


Electoral process,
Stalled for months,
Opposition,
Civil society
Face off with the government.


Reasons for the altercation,
Party accreditation,
Dubious electoral list and
Presidential mandate.


An African tune
Floats eerily through the air,
A continent subdued by a greedy few.
An alien struts the African stage,
Trying to find appropriate steps
To the sounds of the African talking drums.
A curious performance
Interspersed with missed steps,
And curious hand gestures
A picture contorted in confusion
And beautiful discomfort.
African Democracy, a comical rendition of a
Foreign tune.
Nothing more than
Props, gimmicks and stage managed performances
In fulfillment of the rules of a crooked charade.

KILLING FOR A HEALTHY PROFIT

Picture Courtesy: masternewmedia.org



In 2002, Kano, Nigeria,
Muslim leaders kicked against
A polio immunization exercise
They harboured misgivings about
The nature of the drug being administered
After the failure of a drug trial.


Pfizer – Nigeria lawsuit appeal,
In the year 1996,
During a meningitis outbreak in Nigeria,
Pfizer, a pharmaceutical company
Tested an unapproved drug on 200 Nigerian children,
Eleven died as a result
And others were blinded, paralyzed
Or became brain dead.


It seems the developing world has been
Transformed into one huge laboratory
By pharmaceutical companies.
Drug trials are difficult to conduct
In the developed countries,
Most people are unwilling to take part
Due to possible long term side effects
of unapproved drugs which are administered.


Poverty is endemic in Africa,
The poor cannot afford medicine,
Hence, these drug trials are embraced wholeheartedly.
Drugs in such trials are given out freely without charge
But with quite disastrous consequences.
Africa has gradually become the World’s laboratory,
All kinds of mixtures and concoctions are
Sent here for deadly trials.
African lives are used to fine-tune
Medication for western pharmaceutical companies.


Parents living in abject poverty give out their kids for such trials,
Chemical concoctions are chugged down their throats
And pumped into their veins
while the outcomes are evaluated like in a game of chess.
Participants in such trials are given numbers,
No names,
They are called test subjects, how humane.


Poor people are being sacrificed
Just so the rich can live longer.
Seems this barbarism
Has become an acceptable fashion today.
When these drugs make their way onto the
Shelves of pharmacies,
Most people in the developing countries
Who served as guinea pigs during the trials of
These very drugs cannot even afford them.


Are Africans expendable?
Is the life of an African worth less than
That of any other person in the so-called developed world?
Is this not a crime against humanity?
After slave trade, is this the new craze?
The vulnerable are being exploited in these
Developing countries everyday,
Please!!! Someone put an end to this unhealthy business,
Poor Africans are being sacrificed in the name of medicine
So western pharmaceutical companies can make a healthy profit.

THE CURSE OF THE METALLIC BIRD

PICTURE SHOWING THE TAIL END OF A COMMERCIAL AIRLINER
Courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org


THE CURSE OF THE METALLIC BIRD

You were the pride of a nation,
Ghana Airways was your name,
You ferried Ghanaians and other nationals
To the shores of Ghana and beyond.


You glided effortlessly through the skies,
Kingly, simply majestic,
You were our Pegasus in the sky.
The clouds were your palanquin,
You rode them like a battle-hardened warrior
Brisk and efficient,
A bird of colour.
At the sight of you,
We all swelled up with pride
Turning different shades of red gold green
Pupils embossed with a black star in the middle.


You carried the name Ghana on your metallic wings,
Painting foreign skies
With in red, yellow, green
The black star of Africa taking centre stage.


You blanketed the skies
With your royal frame,
How majestic,
Like a king in full regalia
On the eve of an African festival.


Sadly, your feathers lost their luster,
Your glory soon faded away,
The gleam in your eyes replaced by disaster,
Our Ghanaian bird soon drew last breath,
You were shot down by arrows
Mismanagement,
Apathy,
Indifference
Greed and many more.


Our metallic pride soon retired,
Never to be seen by the people again.
You were no longer to paint the skies
Red yellow and green,
The black star, forever extinguished.


All that remains are
Mementos with Ghana Airways
Beautifully engraved on them
Being a constant reminders of
A metallic bird forever lost.


Then came Ghana International Airlines,
A new bird, a new era
Seeking to revive a predecessor’s lost legacy,
With much fanfare and partying
Your birth heralded a new dawn.


The dawn of new beginnings
With lessons from the past so many
Being a guide to a future wondrously bright.
You began slowly
Yet you bore so much promise,
We all felt safe in the bossom of this Ghanaian bird.


Gradually, you inspired confidence,
Soon, you began your ascent
A prince walking in his father’s stead
On a journey to discover a father’s lost throne.
G.I.A. you were affectionately called,
The new Ghanaian air carrier for all and sundry.


We all looked on with bated breath,
We feared the worst
Yet we wished you well,
The demise of your predecessor
Still fresh in our memories
The painful death of our majestic bird.


All too soon came the curse of the Ghanaian bird,
Now G.I.A limps along the tarmac
With broken wings.
Cobwebs now seem your steady wings
A flight of doom on tattered wings.
You no longer inspire confidence,
Now everytime you take flight, we fear the worst,
We fear that just might be your swan song
We shudder
Seeing tell-tale signs of a second coming
The burial of our second bird in the offing
Will we ever shake the curse of the metallic bird
At this rate, we just might need a cemetery for our birds?


For now, you fly on borrowed time,
Borrowed wings
Burdened by a mountain of debt
And a malignant cancer growing everyday.
In no time you just might soon fall
From your heavenly perch,
A wingless bird, a flightless bird
A bird soon headed to the graveyard.


We do not have a body yet
But I foresee an oncoming hearse,
I can see a funeral convoy from afar
Bickering and shifting blame along the potholed road,
Fare thee well our beloved bird,
It was only a matter of time before you met your demise,
Say hi to your father for us all,
We remember the day, Ghana Airways fell.


Tell him I still have a spoon with Ghana
Airways carved on the handle
Tell him every year, for him we light a candle.
Here we sit in deathly black,
Mourning a bird that might soon part.
Sorry, but I’m the bearer of bad news,
Our bird just died.
After years in a coma,
It finally fell of its perch late last night.
Welcome to the funeral of our heavenly bird
Welcome to Ghana,
The graveyard for metallic birds.

THE ORDINARY GHANAIAN VRS GPRS

PICTURE OF A GHANAIAN MARKETPLACE
Courtesy: www.ghanabusinessnews.com


THE ORDINARY GHANAIAN VRS GPRS

I was rummaging through some old things in my garage,
Thought I’d hold a yard sale,
Got too many things stowed away.
I came across so many things,
A box of my old shoes,
A guitar missing all its teeth,
Two deflated footballs and a golf club,
A kayak, got no idea where that came from
Among other interesting things.


Out of all these,
Only one item caught my attention,
Guess what it was,
You guessed it, the Ghana Poverty Reduction Strategy,
GPRS for short.
I had forgotten entirely about this bold undertaking
Of my dear nation Ghana.
The idea, very laudable, quite ambitious too
The document, weighed a tone,
It single-handedly fulfilled all the requirements necessary
For an object to qualify as a projectile,
In an airport environment,
Wielding one of these might be labeled a hostile act.
Transporting such a document into a foreign land
Would be viewed as a declaration of war,
Quite rightly so too.


Curiousity got the better of me,
I began leafing through the messiah,
The document dwelt on these specific areas
Macroeconomic stability
Production and gainful employment
Human development and basic services
Special programmes for the vulnerable and the excluded
And lastly, governance.
I decided to take this issue to the law courts on
Behalf of the common men and women on the streets.


This is what transpired,
Apparently, the GPRS 1 and 2 were implemented
From 2003-2009,
So after almost a seven year romance with the GPRS,
Can anyone tell me what we have achieved?
Has anyone seen GPRS around?
Surely he must be somewhere,
Couldn’t just have disappeared into thin air.


Has poverty been reduced in anyway after
We boldly outdoored the messiah?
Probably it became a white elephant after all.
So many white elephants walking the streets of Accra,
Confused, half awake and begging reprieve.
Ghana, a nation rife with lost policies and visions
Waiting on albion trucks so they can hitch a ride into the nether world.
Almost seven years after the birth of GPRS,
The common man in Ghana is still languishing in poverty.
Poverty, the insurmountable wall of Ghana.
Macroeconomic stability, what is it?
We always hear of this macroeconomic thing,
Can someone boldly lift a hand up and
School me on macroeconomic stability?
Macroeconomic stability, what a cliché,
It has become a swan song,
Kindly give us a new catchy phrase
Your macroeconomic mumbo jumbo
Has lost its ominous appeal.


Production and Gainful employment?
I probably must be dreaming, it seems our
Greatest achievements as a nation is churning out
Graduates who sit idle using their certificates as wallpaper,
Gainful employment? That seems alien in this country
No such thing exists here; try the poppy fields of Afghanistan.


Human development and basic services?
We’re doing perfectly in this department,
I applaud the men upstairs,
So much so that we’ve got Chinese contractors constructing our roads,
Engineers from Holland tending our water works at record speed
And the South Koreans are about to build our houses
Yes!! This is human development the Ghanaian way.
Can someone explain this to me?
What does human development mean?
Judging from the above,
Have we not done the exact opposite with regard to
Human development in this country?
Basic Services?
Please pinch me, I definitely must be dreaming.
What are basic services?
Easy access to healthcare
Education
Water
Electricity and others.


All the above have become luxuries today
Rather than necessities.
Potable water is now a mythical
Figure roaming the streets of Ghana.
Healthcare, cash and carry, the order of the day
The health insurance scheme fetches you nothing healthy.
Education, public schools are schools only by name,
They churn out pretty questionable products.
Electricity, seems load shedding came early this year,
Herald the year of the disco light nation.
Did Ghanaians really draw up this strategy?
I doubt that, probably some Martians did.


Special programmes for the vulnerable
And the excluded?
The entire Ghanaian nation is vulnerable,
We’ve been running on adrenaline for ages,
We’ve performed poorly and eroded
Successes chalked by our forefathers.
Greed and selfishness seems our specialty today,
I guess that is the special programme embedded in the GPRS.
The excluded?
Who are the excluded?
What are they excluded from?
After almost seven years of GPRS, can someone
Enlighten me on what branch of the Ghanaian society
Bears the enviable tag “THE EXCLUDED”?


Governance,
The GPRS sought to achieve the following under governanace:
Timely access to justice for all
Transparency in government decision making
Decentralization and accountability
And a zero tolerance for corruption.
Have we achieved any of the above lofty
And ambitious targets?
Timely justice for all?
Is there justice in this country at all?
Let alone it being timely?


Transparency? I looked up this word in the
Ghanaian English dictionary,
I came up with nothing,
If you want transparency, kindly refer to the
STX affordable housing deal, is that enough transparency for you?
Did Ghanaians really come up with GPRS?
I still harbour doubts.


Decentralization and accountability?
Still a dream, we’re living a recurring nightmare.
Zero tolerance for corruption,
I think we just redefined the number zero,
I’m still trying to embrace the illusionary
Zero tolerance being announced by
My friend the GPRS.
I cannot pass judgment on GPRS,
I need the men and women of thes jury
To retreat to their chambers and deliberate.
Jury’s still out on GPRS,
Kindly keep your ears to the ground,
Judgment shall soon be pronounced,
Thank you all for making it to court
For the case of the Ordinary Ghanaian VRS GPRS
We’re on recess….

WHO HAS SEEN GHANA’S VISION 2020?

PICTURE COURTESY: www.washingtonpost.com

The Ghana vision 2020,
An elaborate document
With lofty aspirations.
This vision was brought to the fore in 1996,
It entailed a coordinated programme
Of economic and social development polices
Which included agricultural and industrial
Programmes at all levels and in all regions of Ghana.


The long term vision of 2020 was to make
Ghana a middle-income country by the year 2020.
After 14yrs of vision 2020,
What have we achieved so far?
Are we still working with 2020 in mind?
Are we still envisioning 2020?
We’re more than halfway through our 25 year
March towards 2020.
What is a middle-income country anyway?
Does Ghana remember vision 2020?


Here’s Ghana’s attitude towards long term planning,
An idea, conceived,
Hours of man hours invested,
The idea, we pursue like a ferret on a rabbits’s tail,
Documents, first draft,
Second draft,
And so many other drafts.
Huge sums of money invested.
One early morning, a member of
Government stands atop the tallest
Mountain shouting,
Eureka!!! Eureka!!!!
We’ve found it, we’ve found it.
Wearing a Cheshire cat grin
With a huge tome in hand,
Which causes him to list to one side.


The days after that mountain top declaration,
Press conferences, countless held,
Bigwigs, all in attendance
Photo shoots, all smiles for the cameras.
Months and years after the mountain walk,
The tomes become doorstops,
Too voluminous to be keep idling on shelves.


Eventually, these much touted policies
And what nots fade into the background
Never to be heard of again.
Welcome to long term planning the Ghanaian way.
Years after vision 2020, can anyone tell me
Where we stand on this particular vision?
Are we still in pursuit?
Have given up the chase?


Please help me find vision 2020,
Last I heard, he was marooned on some
Island in an office in one of the government ministeries
Feeding off mouldy cheese and roasted nuts.
If you chance upon 2020,
Kindly ask the above questions on my behalf,
He seems pretty elusive
Almost reclusive,
The Ghana vision 2020,
A suicide mission?
A blurred vision?
A brilliant rendition?
Or a nation’s lack of vision?

AFRICA’S UNSAVOURY ROMANCE WITH FOREIGN AID

Picture Courtesy: http://ec.europa.eu/echo/aid/food_en.htm



AFRICA’S UNSAVOURY ROMANCE WITH FOREIGN AID

Food aid,
Financial or economic aid
Grants
Loans and others.
Has Africa really been aided?
Has aid made a difference?


Aid given to Africa
Has been cosmetic so far
For centuries Africa has struggled
Africa has been saddled with
Poverty
Disease
Hunger
Civil strife
Among other happenings with colourful names.


In Africa’s time of need,
The world comes to our aid
With beautifully packaged words
Calling them pledges, a form of aid on paper.
For a short while,
This illusion of help seems to work
Food aid, feeds the hungry immediately
Financial and economic aid
Gives budgetary support,
Props up economies and
Makes funds available for all sorts of projects.
Grants, these monies come with strings attached,
Not surprising, Africa’s a slippery place to walk
With pockets lined with gold.
Too many shady characters trolling the continent.
Financial aid, this aid helps one
Meet a budget or target.


The world really has been kind to Africa,
But has their purported kindness been
Shown freely and without selfish interests?
A power invests in the security apparatus of
An African country to prevent terrorists
From making home there.
They fear these terrorists might come crashing
Airplanes into their high-rises and walk the streets of their
Cities with bombs underneath their jackets.
Is this really aid?


When hunger threatens Africa,
The world ships to Africa,
Grain that has spent years in storage facilities.
It is better than nothing anyway,
Thumbs up to them for free food,
But is this food really free?
Is the world unaware of the perennial droughts
And other problems saddling the African farmer?
If the world really wanted to eradicate hunger,
I say bring in long term solutions rather
Than sacks of grain and sugar.
A wise man once said,
Do not give that hungry man fish, if
You really want to help him, teach him how to fish.
That way, when you’re no more, he will never go hungry.
Food aid to Africa has been aesthetic,
A public show put on to score cheap moral points.
Does the world ever really envision Africa without famine
Poverty hunger and disease?


Civil strife and upheaval rear its ugly head,
The world sits behind their television sets
And watch brothers distressing like in a feature film.
Horrific tales of rape and decapitations,
Arms, legs and heads become trophies.
The world tarries for months and years,
When the carnage reaches a point where words
Such as genocide and ethnic cleansing are applicable,
Then the world wakes from slumber and puts
Boots on the ground in the place of distress.
The world puts on a public show,
Arrest warrants for rebels and those accused of
War crimes are dispatched at lightening speed.


A manhunt and millions of dollars
In reward monies are offered amidst much fanfare.
Is this really aid to Africa?
What are peace-keeping missions?
A war does not start overnight, it begins with
Discontent, demonstration among others.
Can’t the world act when the dislike and hate
Are still festering?
Why come festooned in fatigues and armour
When the carnage is at a crescendo?
Is this really aid?


Listen!! Africa,
Listen!! and be wise,
The world is not your friend
You have no friends in the west
Neither do you have friends in Asia,
Beware the wolves in sheep clothing
The vultures are circling,
They only come to pillage and plunder,
If you have oil, you will get wolves as friends
If you have gold, they will treat you like a bride
But if you only have disease, poverty and war,
The world will come when death and savagery
Have outpaced the innocent,
When young girls have been raped,
When young boys have lived by the barrel of the gun
The world will only come when half the population
Of a country has been wiped out,
They will come with huge bags of forensics
And spend billions in investigations and manhunts,
Could the world not have put these monies to better use?
Do you think the chronic African problems are an enigma to the west?


Africa!! stop acting like a toddler,
Go back to the pyramids of Egypt,
Seek an ear with the pharaoh,
Travel to Ghana, sit down with Nkrumah,
Go back to South Africa, seek audience with Madiba.
Go to Timbuktu and rediscover the lost tomes,
Give Jomo a call, he would be happy to receive you,
Awake Africa, stop looking west.
Begin looking within,
Look within yourself and learn from history,
Enlighten yourself on the Black star of Africa.
Emancipate yourself!!!
Oh Africa!! Emancipate yourself,
You’ve allowed yourself to be enslaved mentally,
Now the world calls you backward and savage.


You have allowed greed and selfishness into your house,
You have dined with thieves and snakes,
Now the world calls you a broken home.
When they get a whiff of oil,
You become their treasure trove,
When you tell them of your deposits of gold,
They forget the savages and mosquitoes bearing malaria
And come after you with sugary tongues,
They pillage pilfer and tie you down with binding
Agreements and crooked international law.
You have no friends in the world Africa,
You stand alone without cover,
The world feeds off you and calls you an ally
But make no mistake, you are neither a friend nor an ally,
You are unequal in the eyes of the west.
Be wise, oh Africa be wise,
Rid yourself of the cancer and live free again.
Slavery has long been abolished but you!! Africa!!!
Have always been a slave, the west your master.


Instead of being neighbours, become brothers,
Make friends with one another
After all, Africa is our mother.
The west comes to divide and conquer,
Become a fortress by seeking the interests of one another
Live for each other, unify the land
Stop the bickering, stop the war,
You’ve done this for centuries,
And you’ve gone round in circles for centuries.
Emancipate!!! Oh Africa emancipate,
In your eyes, you live among friends
Among equals,
But in their eyes, you’ve always been a slave
To them, you will always be a slave.
Abolish squabbling African nations,
Bring back home the lost generation,
Let us build and become one nation,
Unite the land
Live free devoid of terror.
Rise!!!! Oh star of Africa
You’ve been sullied
You’ve been muddied
For far too long.
Take leave of the pits of mud,
Step forth and embrace your crown of glory,
Africa!!!! You’ve always been royalty.

GHANA’S INFATUATION WITH INFLATION FIGURES

PICTURE SHOWING SOME GHANAIAN CEDI NOTES
Courtesy: ghanaweb.com


GHANA’S INFATUATION WITH INFLATION FIGURES

A public show
To announce a single inflation figure?
I hear history has been made,
With words like
Unprecedented,
Astounding
Remarkable
And excellent been thrown at all and sundry
Not even the man on the street has been spared
This barrage of mathematical figures
And nerve-racking English language,
Guess they forgot about the illiterates again.


One neatly dressed gentleman was the star of the show,
He gyrated, wowed, dribbled and dazzled patrons
Of the inflation economics fashion show.
Inflation now stands at 9.52%, he declared
As though weilding a declaration of independence.
According to him, inflation has dropped consistently
Over the past twelve months.
Permit me to quote a few phrases that came catwalking,
“9.52% inflationary rate has been achieved
In 18 months of assuming office”
“This means our economy has been managed
In a very prudent and acceptable manner”
“The remarkable drop in inflation is a positive sign”
“Contrary to what the critics say, the economy
Is not in tatters”
“The economy has been managed excellently”
“No government under the fourth republic
Has been able to achieve such a figure within such a period”
“Prudent economics has placed the challenged economy
We inherited on a sound footing”
“Ghana has become the preferred investment destination in the
West African sub-region because of our pragmatic economic policies”
“Sound and positive macroeconomic indicators”
“Precursor of good things to come”
“All their economic gurus struggled to achieve
A single-digit inflation rate within their two terms of office,
They should applaud us for the sharp drop in inflation in the country”.


Kindly permit a question,
What is the formula for calculating the rate of inflation?
Is there any way the ordinary Ghanaian can verify?
What was the margin of error?
Does the man on the street understand inflation?
Twelve months of consistently dropping
Inflation figures, let’s recap what the ordinary
Ghanaian has been saddled with:
Aspyhxia due to tax overload,
Burgeoning taxes, an uncomfortably cumbersome load.
Road tolls, even those have gone through the roof,
Armed robbery, growing in series and sequence,
Food prices, through the roof,
Three square meals per day is the common man’s dream
Civil servant’s wage, a pittance,
The widow can no longer boast of the widow’s mite
She no longer has her copper coins.
Basic services:
Electricity tariffs, skyrocketed to the moon
Potable water, still a mythical Ghanaian figure today,
Far from a necessity,
Probably the most expensive Ghanaian luxury.
Education, a miseducation
A merry band of half-baked Ghanaian future leaders,
Being churned out in a steady stream.
Healthcare, better not fall ill,
Why? We’ve got no healthcare,
Barter trade, cash for healthcare,
Pretty fair trade eh?
We pride ourselves on a topsy-turvy system.


Investment,
Ghana boasts of Chinese roads,
South Korean built houses will soon dot
Our nation’s face.
The Ghanaian tertiary graduate sits idle,
Masses unemployed with fancy degrees.
They trolls the streets for days and come back to
Tell tales of job advertisements making unreasonable demands,
10yrs of work experience among other things.
How does the green graduate come by such experience?
Who should give him that experience so you
Can come poach him and benefit from another’s hard work?
They sit at home watching the days go by,
After not too long, ten years go by,
By then, they would have gained a lot of experience,
Only if an experience in idling would ever become
A prerequisite for a job advertisement,
Then their future would look as bright as day.


Twelve months of consistently dropping inflation rates,
Has the life of the man on the street been impacted in any way?
Yes!!! it surely has,
He now pays exorbitant amounts for unprocessed food,
His water supply is erratic,
Others have no water supply at all,
Those with electricity have light bulbs flickering
Like they got Parkinson’s disease,
Others stock up on candles by the truck load,
Education, just a charade,
Ignorance now seems a better option,
At least trading in processed and unprocessed goods requires no degree,
As long as you agree one plus one equals two.
Instead of tooting your own horn,
Give them their due and they would gladly toot it for you.
So much for your parades and illusions,
Propaganda does not put food on the table
Of the common man,
After months of touting your prowess in
Macroeconomics and inflation figures,
The ordinary Ghanaian sits disillusioned
Totally uncertain of his tomorrow.
Enough of your fanfares and parades,
Create an enabling environment for the
Ordinary Ghanaian to make ends meet,
Give him clean drinking water that
Does not cost an arm and a leg,
You have tooted your vuvuzela long enough,
Promises have never been legal tender in this country,
Do not feed us promises and policies,
Let your actions reflect in the pockets of the common man
We’re tired of living in your nightmarish Ghana.

BEWARE THE PALE FACE

BEWARE THE PALE FACE

He came to our village on his metallic horse
Black and shiny
With smiles so many.
Said he had come to help us
Called us the land of gold.


He promised us riches
He reeked of development
Said we’d share the spoils 50-50.
Called himself a genie
Gave infinite wishes.


First wish, we asked for a school.
He picked up his shiny little toy
Spoke in English to someone on the other end
Kofi translated in his limited English.
The missionary had taught him
Before malaria took him.
Two days later
Huge trucks rolled into town
This pale face built us a school right from scratch,
He even taught the kids to speak his native tongue.


Indeed the pale face had come to help us,
We hastily granted him acres of land
He promised to be gentle with the land
Said he was a man of the land
Said he understood the land.
A week later, construction began
Machines the size of mountains we could see from afar
We could feel the ground move beneath our feet,
The noise was incessant
A few of us lost hearing in our ears.
The dust was unbearable
Thick plumes of smoke hung in the air like crows
We all began to cough
Visibility was poor,
The rain became acidic,
Our plants began to wither.


We cried to the pale face
And he made us promises,
He built us a hospital
He brought in people with shiny teeth
And white clothes called doctors.
They performed magic
Gave us little coloured pills that made us well.
We were happy
The pale face had come.


He was our saviour, we loved the pale face
We paid no heed to the hazy skies
The teary eyed trees
And the yellowing leaves
We failed see the greed in his eyes
All we saw were welcoming smiles.
We no longer went to farm
We made handsome money
Working construction for the pale face.
Others sold in our markets instead of us,
We became construction workers
No longer farmers,
Gone were the days of dusty fields craving manure,
And thirsty crops with parched throats
We no longer worried about mealy bugs
Nematodes and black pod disease
We happily spent money the pale face brought.


Decades went by
Our love affair with the pale face
Never waned,
Soldiered on, forever strong.
Then one morning,
He called us all into the market square
He said he was moving away,
His mother had died
Said he would be back soon
Was not quite sure when soon was.
We cried and wailed
Others rended their garments in pain
What were we to do without the pale face?


We woke the next morning
To eerie silence
No pale face
No machines
Just a gaping hole in the ground
A pungent smell hang ominously in the air
Like a dark cloud over our heads.
The doctors were gone
The teachers too
Kofi the translator, the only one left behind.


He held his head in his hands
And soiled his brand new suit
The pale face had promised him education abroad.
We consoled him
We picked up our pieces
We turned to our communal spirit
And soldiered on in disappointment.
Farmers went back to farm but the crops wouldn’t grow
The land had died,
It had been bewitched with a chemical brew.
Hunters went hunting
But they came back with hands empty
And unbelievable tales.
The animals had moved away
Our pastures were no longer green
The river had turned green
Devoid of life,
Our water source forever gone.
The gods had deserted us
The pale face had neglected us
There we stood
Naked and on our own.


We now venture deeper into the forests
Into sacred groves where our forefathers forbade us.
We walk for miles just so we can farm again.
The rainwater’s no good
Tastes funny, smells funny,
Pale face, where’s your money?
We need it now more than ever before.
The village medicine man works wonders
But he now journeys for days in search of mango leaves.
All our mango trees have left us too
They all died when the pale face
Came visiting our village.


We are now worse off than before
The pale face has taken us into the Stone Age.
We have a hospital that sits empty
We have a school that teaches nothing
The market now sits empty
We barely have enough to eat
Let alone sell.


Beware the pale face and his sugary tongue
His shiny horse and
English language with high pitched nasal sounds.
If you see the pale face, send him our thanks
Tell him we thank him for laying us to waste
Send him our condolences on the death of his mother.
Tell him we’re dying one after the other
We might soon meet our maker
Maybe even his dead mother
Thanks to his empty promises and jibber jabber.
Beware my brother please beware
For the pale face brings nothing
But treats so fleeting.
Brothers beware, please beware
Beware the pale face and his shiny horse
They bring nothing but death and destruction.

3 YEARS OR 4? ARE WE WALKING ON SLIPPERY SLOPES?

3 YEARS OR 4? ARE WE WALKING ON SLIPPERY SLOPES?

The debate,
Raged on for weeks.
Opinions,
Everyone had theirs.
Academics
Parents
Students
And the man on the street,
All were very interested.


Public involvement,
Was minimal,
Issue was one purely for the learned
Not the commoners.
Three years or four?
Secondary school students
Waited in limbo.
Now you stand akimbo,
Speaking a four year lingo.


Classrooms,
Woefully inadequate,
Teachers,
Many schools are grossly understaffed.
Student to teacher ratio,
Very poor at present.
Textbooks,
They now seem a luxury
Rather than a necessity.
A total nightmare.


Question,
Do we enjoying doing things
On adhoc basis?
What happened to long term planning?
Does Ghana have an education policy at all?
If yes,
How come we’re behaving like a nation
That feels education is a bother?
Absolutely unimportant.
Has Ghanaian education become a liability?
Why do we feel the need to clothe everything in politics?
When shall we stop playing politics in everything?
The lives of our nation’s future leaders are at stake.


After the initial brouhaha
Are we sure or still undecided?
Three years or four?
Jury’s still out on this one,
A question pretty far from answered.
Please give answers to that question.
You’ve all gone silent all of a sudden
Your silence is a bit unnerving.
Way past time,
Please be up and doing
So far your actions have fallen below par.
Socialist
Nkrumahist
Capitalist
Maoist
Or whichever one of the ‘ists
You may subscribe to,
Please keep that to yourselves
It is of no importance to us.
Please for once, act with resolve
A little honest conviction
Be decisive and bury indecision.
Put away your political caps
And throw away your colours.
Give to a nation
A worthwhile policy for Education,
Education predicts the future of our nation.

FORAGING IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH

FORAGING IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH

A famer, that’s what I was,
Then came the mining company.
They wanted our land
Said mining was more lucrative
They were after gold deposits
That lay in the bowels of the land.


They told us tales of revenue in hordes
They preached development
They made use of big words
Like compensation and resettlement.
We all agreed,
The sums they mentioned were a dream to us.
I let go of my farm,
Said goodbye to pepper and cassava,
Farm was all I had,
A gold mine that fed three wives and 12 children.


Barely planned,
I just took my money
Went on a binge.
Began spending,
We lived like kings.
Our lives were colourful,
Forgot all about tomorrow,
Swept it under the rug.
Lived for the moment,
After all, tomorrow’s never promised.


All too soon,
Money run out,
In came hardship and misery,
We really fell on hard times.
Three wives and 12 kids,
Seems like a death sentence now.
Two square meals per day
Was my recurring nightmare
Utility bills, a hangman’s noose.
Three wives and 12 kids,
Far worse than a mid-afternoon migraine.
I lamented,
Sat for hours on end underneath the palm tree,
Began taking solace in it’s seductive brew,
This went on for days.
Then my friend Kofi came to me one morning
Whetting my abject poverty with tales of a gold mine.


Kofi is my name,
I worked in the mines all my life,
I was neither a C.E.O nor C.F.O
Was way down the bottom of the pile
But the mines paid good, took real good care of me.
Planning ahead? Who needs a plan,
I had the perfect plan of line
The mine was my only plan.
I never planned for life out of the mine,
I was a man of the mines,
That was my only home.


I felt feint whenever my feet were above ground,
My home was underneath it.
I was a mole,
I lived in the bowels of the earth
Busy foraging for precious gold.
For years on end,
I lived with pockets lined with gold,
I never fell on hard times,
Have you ever seen a hungry man sitting by a gold mine?
Impossible, that only happens in a bad dream.


Then one morning, a meeting was called
This we were told,
A machine had been procured,
One that could replace a hundred low level
Mine hands,
We were to be laid off in the coming month.
We demonstrated
We pleaded
And we picketted
But the machine was the new today
Mine hands, the most recent extinct breed.
We were handed letters
Sent to seminars on life after the mines
In a bid to prepare us for life outside the mine shafts.


They gave us money
Severance packages
That’s what they called it.
They sent us away with money
And the shirt on our backs
Into a cruel world that rarely smiled.
I lived off my severance
And searched for a job.
Sadly, my skills were only useful in the mines
I was good with explosives,
My specialty was detonations,
Spoke terrible English.
I was only good at digging gold
Had no degree,
No formal education.


Never cultivated the habit of investing
Never really put my severance to good use.
Money run out
And so did my friends.
I seem to run out of friends when
I run out of money.
I guess money does bring multitudes of friends.
Heard of a small-scale mining group nearby,
Met them, we had a chat
Once a miner, always a miner.


Kofi came to me one early morning,
I was seated majestically among empty calabashes
With one in hand that was half full.
All he talked about was mining gold
But I was not a miner,
Never met gold in my life before
A farmer’s was what I was.
He said all I needed was brute strength
And a love of hardwork.
I decided to do it for the money
But all Kofi cared about was going back under the earth,
I guess he was in love with the dirt.


We went to the mine site two days later,
We dove straight into the bowels of the earth.
It was extremely hard work,
No protective gear
Little supervision
And the logs propping the
Roof of the mine looked shaky and weak.
Women and children worked in the mine too
I met a boy, he was barely ten,
Busy doing a marathon with a shovel.
Later heard this line of work was illegal
Our honest work is termed galamsey.


I’d rather live illegally than drown in poverty,
I prefer galamsey to drunken inebriation
Under the old palm tree.
In the coming mines,
I began to feel at home,
A farmer, busy mining gold.
Our mine has collapsed twice
But so far we’ve had no casualties.
Kofi keeps me going,
It seems he runs on something greater
Than a will to survive,
It seems the sight of dirt
And life in the shafts bring him to life.


Whenever on land,
He barely breaks a smile.
All he keeps asking is,
When do we go back down?
I sometimes feel he was not born to live on land,
He’s so much at home when underneath it.
Yesterday the shaft caved in suddenly,
Luckily, no one was hurt,
We were out on break by then.
All we did was clear out the shaft
And burrow deeper,
As if nothing had happened,
Never a dull moment in the shafts.
For three years now, I keep postponing
My exit from the galamsey scene.
Said I’d go back farming after a while
Seem to lose my nerve whenever the time draws near,
Guess I’ve been seduced by the mine shaft.
I now understand Kofi’s love affair with dirt,
Guess I’ve now got dirt in my veins,
Cut me now and I just might bleed dirt.


I harbour fears of being buried alive
But that looks more attractive than my former life.
Family’s doing well now
I’ve got plans for the future too.
Set aside money
Bought acres of land
Built a few houses
Among other things.
One day, the ground might take me away,
Some day, the dirt shall swallow me whole,
Make me a home in the belly of the whale.
I pray come that time,
I would have left behind enough
For my children and their mothers.
I love the mine, totally embraced it now
Not even the law can part me from the mine,
Till death do us part, that is when we shall part,
I forever remain a man of the shafts.

PORTER’S LODGE

PORTER’S LODGE

Demeanour, very abject
Appearance, shabby
Clothes, tattered and dirty
Hair, unkempt, dirty red
Eyes, Glassy
Face, forlorn, very distant
Personal hygiene, nothing to write home about
Unwelcoming body odour
Teeth, far from shiny
A mixed shade of brown and black
Adorned with yellow for aesthetic balance.


They troll the market squares
Lorry stations and parking spaces
Carrying pans and wooden boards,
These being the tools of their trade.
In search of loads to carry
Just to make an honest wage.


They have inundated the city
Travelling mostly from far far away,
All in search of an illusionary dream.
Wage, far from a dream
A pretty miserable wage.
Abode, they cannot be choosy
Anywhere will do
As long as they can lay their heads.


In no time, many take seed,
They sleep rough at night
And fend for themselves during the day.
From the very first day of their arrival
They’ve always been mothers in waiting
The only thing missing,
A street hoodlum or vagrant
With a rough demeanour and a salty tongue
In search of a joy ride
Last thing on his mind is fathering a child.


After that,
An uphill struggle of one
Becomes that of two.
Situation already looked bleak
Without a helping hand,
Now she fends for herself and
A newborn baby girl.
A life of untold misery has just began,
With a baby riding behind,
She walks the length of the business
District looking for load to carry.
There’s no standard measurement
For the load she carries
Just give her a load
She’ll gladly carry.


All she needs is a boost and her priceless
Load sits atop it’s kingly throne.
She carries this heavy burden on her head,
Walks for minutes or hours
Depending on where the load decides alight.
Shouting out agoo agoo
For people to make way for her.
She sometimes trips while carrying her load,
Dropping her burden onto a market woman’s wares.
Then comes the exchange of words
Invectives and other colourful expletives
She tries her best to weather the storm
But one against many is never a fair fight.
Sometimes they let her go with just the insults,
A sound flogging is sometimes her just reward.


She earns a menial wage
She does not work for minimum wage.
No health insurance
No education,
Nowhere to sleep,
No one to fall on in hard times,
A lone ranger living far from home
Taking on a cruel world
Embracing an uncertain tomorrow
With a successor in waiting firmly anchored on her back
A baby girl soon to join her mother’s trade.


For how long can you live off your pittance?
What future awaits you and your child?
You brought forth a child into misery
She will forever remain trapped in your misery.
When will the cycle be broken?
When will these mothers stop passing on the
Buck to these fatherless children?
Your mother is destitute,
You have been born into destitution,
The odds are heavily stacked against you,
How do you overcome such staggering odds?


As little as age eight or nine,
You will be given the tools of your trade,
A metallic pan or a wooden board,
Then you will begin work in the market square,
Earning paltry sums for the heavy burdens you carry.
I pray you do not drop your load,
Little girl I pray you do not trip and fall,
That would certainly be an uncomfortable experience.
Your age mates are at home,
Playing with their toys,
Watching television
And throwing tantrums all day long
While you slave away in the market all day long
For a meager wage.
Soon you’ll be old enough to take seed
And you will follow in the steps of your mother.


A child you shall also bring forth
In teenage years.
A growing child thrust into the cauldron of motherhood,
This is no future to look forward to,
This sort of life is not one for the feint of hearts.
You need a heart much tougher than a lion’s heart,
You need a back far stronger that of a camel.
You reside in our nation’s porter’s lodge.
Kayayoo is your name,
In this very lodge, you might forever reside
Your future is coloured grey,
Grim and bleak seems your perfect tomorrow.
When will you free yourself off these burgeoning shackles?
For I see no happily ever after in this life of yours.


Please, this I beg of you,
The next time you visit the market square,
Keep an eye out for their burdensome loads
And the little children on their backs,
Do keep an eye out for wan smiles and grumbling feet.
Thump thump goes the kayayoo’s feet
Clad in flimsy footwear
And colourful dirt.
Do listen intently to the kayayoos on the beat
Listen attentively to the heartbeat of the market place,
For thump thump goes the market’s heartbeat,
Thump thump goes the kayayoo’s feet
The kayayoo, the market’s heartbeat
Her cumbersome load
Forever her bane.

BLUE UNIFORMS AND NUMBERED CABS

BLUE UNIFORMS AND NUMBERED CABS

Order from above,
No more naked cabs
No more shabbily dressed cab drivers
Those were outlawed
Gone were the days of the
Multicoloured attired cab drivers
That was the order, right from above.


Herald a new dawn,
In came taxi cabs born anew
Proudly displaying numbers
Emblazoned on both sides
Like a street kid bearing scars
From last year’s fisticuffs.
Those numbered cabs looked like race cars
Proud as peacocks in football jerseys.


Cab driver uniforms,
Blue shirts over black pants,
That was the rule
That was cab driver law
Came into effect immediately.
The driver’s side
In all Ghanaian cabs were awash
In all shades of blue
And dashing black.
Drivers looking kingly on their mounts
Prim and proper,
They sure did look it.


After two years,
Cab numbers have faded out,
Others bear no identifying numbers at all,
They probably fell off in sweltering heat.
Then again, regular visit to the carwash
Might have taken a toll on those poor number tags.
We are now back to where we started off
Cabs without tattoos in numbers
Cab drivers in all sorts of attires.


Almost two years after
We tried making an aesthetic impression.
Cabs and their drivers are back to old ways,
The days of blue on black
Long gone
Quickly forgotten.
Back to the days of anything goes
As long as it’s not a uniform.
It’s back to the days of the
Multicoloured attired cab driver.


Hours spent in enforcing the law
Money spent in printing stickers
Bearing identification numbers
Among other logistical nightmares,
It’s back to the good old days
When cabs were only identifiable by
Number plates
Vehicle models
And other obscure features.
I can’t help but ask,
What was the point of this exercise then?
Was there ever a long term plan?
Did this directive have an expiration date?
Whose idea was this anyway?
What was the point of this whole undertaking?
My cab driver is no longer blue on black,
His cab now bears no number tag.
Those numbers sure made them look like race cars,
I sometimes felt like I was in the Dakar rally
When riding through town in my numbered cab,
Call me a dreamer, but I sure did love those cab number tags.
The blue and black made the drivers presentable,
Brought about uniformity
And a sense of professionalism.


No more uniformed drivers
No more numbered cabs.
Has any one of you seen my uniformed cab driver
Or the number christening his adorable red and yellow cab?
It seems they’re gone with the wind
A fad, a fluke, just another hoot.
They have become a rare breed,
Almost extinct.
Why did we bother doing this at all?
What was the point of all this?
Can anybody tell me why?
Again is ask, what was the point of all this?
Please bring back my uniformed cabbie
And his numbered ride,
If for nothing at all,
They brought new shades of colour to my traffic stream.

OH!! MORTAL MAN

OH!! MORTAL MAN

The fish are dying,
The gulf is crying
Man, what have you done?


Livelihoods beyond repairing
Communities forever despairing
What have you done?


Wings draped in grease
Birds incapable of flight
Man, what have you done?


You live with impunity
You shout ingenuity
There lies your ingenuity
There lies nature’s tainted purity.


Oh yes!! You keep trying
Yet the slick keeps coming
What have you done?


You’ve upset nature’s balance
Took ages to achieve such healthy balance
Man, what have you done?


You create very little
Yet you destroy so many
Man, you’re selfish, you’re second to none
See what you’ve done.


You crave advancement
You shout development
Thanks for spilling development
Thanks for your so called advancement
Thank you for erasing centuries of nature’s hard work.


Things you destroy,
You’re incapable of creating.
Things you create
Are fleeting, they can not stand the test of creation.
Can you not see further than just your nose?
Can you not foretell tomorrow’s woes?
You blithe the earth in various ways
You go to bed at night
Feeling supreme
You then wake to temperatures of a hundred degrees
Ice caps recede
Rivers spill their banks
Disappearing streams
Extinct animal and plant species
Deserts overtake arable land
Food no longer grows in abundance.
What do you do?
You go on to modify nature’s genetics
Giving rise to strange food crops
You seed the clouds
Water pours, you call it rain
You live with impunity
You act with total disregard
Oh!! You drunken man
Who holds you in check?
To whom do you render an account?


Please someone reign in this suicidal man
Someone put a stop to his manic parade
He destroys all,
He’s beyond insatiable
Tis only a matter of time
Before this earth gives up the ghost.
Can you not feel nature’s simmering anger?
You continually test nature’s fury.
Your knowledge will always be limited
Nature will always be eons ahead of you
Be wise, live wisely
Seek knowledge, seek wisely
When will you ever be satisfied?
Is there no end to this restless agitation of yours?
You continually destroy this world of ours
Man, oh man
Why, oh mortal man…
What do you seek you stubborn man?

WHAT IS A UNITY GOVERNMENT? ONLY AFRICA KNOWS

WHAT IS A UNITY GOVERNMENT? ONLY AFRICA KNOWS

Two parties,
In a struggle for power.
By fair or foul means,
They both clamour for power.


In the end, one is pronounced winner,
The other cries foul
International observers
Harbour misgivings
Stuffed ballot boxes
Intimidation
Bribery
Corruption
Unlawful arrests and detentions
others in exile
living in fear of kangaroo courts and assassination.


Opposition supporters,
They take to the streets.
Heavy handed tactics,
Citizens brutalized
In the name of unauthorized demonstration.


Roadblocks mounted,
Strife ignited
Civil unrest roams the streets.
Martial law is imposed,
Curfews and other
Punitive measures in place.


Violence trolls the streets for days,
Dead bodies litter the ground
Adorned with bullet casings
And spent shells.
Civilians clothed in bruises
Cuts and broken bones.
Houses burnt down in unfettered rage.


Women and girls raped in the
Ensuing chaos,
A nation at war with itself
A nation trading punches with itself
Mayhem strides with pride
Amidst cries and helpless pleas.
All gunning for the crown
Power, the coveted throne.
A nation trying to make an aesthetic impression
A nation trying to embrace a democratic rendition.


Then comes a solution,
One that encompasses all parties.
In unity, you shall all govern,
In strides the unity government,
Amidst painted smiles and abrasive handshakes.
The so-called best solution to
An chronic African problem.
Power drunken leaders,
The days of the forever rulers,
The eternal leaders,
The till-death-do-us-part rulers.


Can unity exist in a sea of mistrust?
Can two unite when both feel aggrieved by the other?
What’s it with the African
And the desire to wield power by any means necessary?
Are we all capable of leading?
Can we not agree that one must lead for all to follow?
Everyone claims to be the messiah,
None the pariah,
Who really is the messiah?
Messiahs, aren’t they just selfish people
Gunning for the reigns of power?
What are power-sharing deals?
Does a unity government really exist?
Africa, what is a unity government?
Africa, a continent painted in colourful hues of unity governments.

WHO SPEAKS ON BEHALF OF THE COMMON MAN?

WHO SPEAKS ON BEHALF OF THE COMMON MAN?

“NO POLICE FOR MPs - Answering a question on the floor of parliament from the MP for Binduri, Mr. Stephen Yakubu, as to what plans the Interior Ministry had to provide the lawmakers with security, especially at their homes, Mr. Amidu explained that the Police administration may be able to provide personal security at the residence of MPs when there has been appreciable increase in the number of personnel – credit: Daily Guide Newspaper, Monday, July 05, 2010. Written by Awudu Mahama.”

If the ordinary Ghanaian feels insecure in his home, place of work or when walking a street late at night after a tiring day, why should members of parliament demand to feel secure when the kingmaker of this country; the common man feels insecure himself? At least these members of parliament have some security arrangements in place. The ordinary Ghanaian has nothing of this sort. What is the Ghanaian Parliament doing to curtail the rampant armed robbery menace in the country? It is very unsavoury when members of parliament cry foul when a colleague of theirs falls prey to an armed robbery attempt or some other form of near fatal incident. Is the life of a member of parliament worth more than that of any other Ghanaian citizen?

If security in this country is improved on the whole, will it not benefit both the common man on the street and our honourable members of parliament? Why then should a member of parliament feel the need to insist on increased security for his home when the ordinary Ghanaian goes to bed feels insecure in his own home? When one is in distress, Police personnel find it difficult to go to the aid of the distressed person because street names and street addresses are still a myth in our country today. If you do not live near a landmark, do not bother calling any of the emergency lines for help in your time of need because they will either fail to make it or turn up late when the one in distress is beyond helping.

Armed robbers are having a field day. The newspapers keep reporting horrific tales everyday but the man on the street is yet to see any concrete action in this regard yet a member of parliament feels he’s been given the wrong end of the stick because he does not feel safe in his home. Mr. Member of parliament, are you aware the ordinary Ghanaian has got it much worse than you? It is bad enough that we labour for minimum wage; it is terrible enough that the youth of this country waste away each day without jobs, we endure all these with minimal fuss but when you crave for increased security at home, I say this is the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

Are you more Ghanaian than any of us? I do not mind you having security, it feels me with great trepidation when your knee-jerk-reactions kick in and you begin enquiring of the Interior Ministry, plans to provide lawmakers with security. Shouldn’t all Ghanaian citizens be entitled to security? Is this too much to ask? Couldn’t you have asked questions on plans being made to curtail the armed robbery menace? What happened to service to the people? Who speaks on behalf of the common man? Kindly put the needs of the common man first before yours. That is service to the people, last time I checked, you were put in parliament by the people to serve their needs and not yours.

It is high time you stopped thinking of what affects only yourselves and addressed the problems that saddle many in the country. Being a member of parliament does not make you a prized asset, it makes you a servant of the people so please begin serving the people by asking for security for all in the country regardless of their standing in society. After all, we all are Ghana too.

MTN GHANA, A LAW ON ITS OWN?

MTN GHANA, A LAW ON ITS OWN?

“Make up your mind! If you want to win 1 of the last i10 from MTN tonight, you need to send 1 SMS to enter the draw! Text WIN to 2010 NOW! 75Gp/SMS”

“LAST CHANCE! If you text your name to 2010 now, you will automatically enter the draw for one of the last 6 Hyundai i10 from MTN in only a few hours! 75Gp/SMS”

“Urgent! You have only one option for MTN’s Hyundai i10 coming tonight! Simply text your name to 2010 now, you might win in only a few hours! 75Gp/SMS”

“The Winner is………! You could hear your name! Text your name to 2010 now and you could really win one of MTN’s 77 Hyundai i10 in a few hours”

“It’s not a joke! You are one of the few lucky people that can win one of MTN’s 77 Hyundai i10 in a few hours! Text your name to 2010 to participate! 75Gp/SMS”

The above are a few of the unsolicited text messages MTN Ghana keeps sending to customers about their promotions. Can someone please ask MTN Ghana when we signed up for this? I do not remember signing on any dotted line giving MTN Ghana the mandate to flood my phone with unsolicited text messages and share my cell phone number with others for promotional purposes. They are act with impunity and behave as though we are living in the days of the cowboys in the Wild West. Those were the days when people with guns rode into town and did as they pleased with no one to keep them in check.

Is Ghana a lawless country or do we have laws only to create an aesthetic impression? Who is watching? Who keeps these service providers in check? MTN Ghana keeps flooding customers with such annoying text messages throughout the day and even at night. It is bad enough that their services are appalling and very poor to say the least. It is bad enough that they are making millions off the poor Ghanaian and thinking only of their bottom line. Ghana please, be up and doing. We’ve so drunk on the proverbial Ghanaian hospitality such that anyone can now enter our country singing songs of investment and eventually ends up exploiting the poor Ghanaian for their own financial gain.

It seems MTN Ghana views the tolerance of the Ghanaian as a weakness. Just wait for the class action suit; it is high time you stopped ambushing the poor Ghanaian with your promotional gimmicks clad in your own financial gain. We know none of the things you claim to be giving away are free. The consumer ends up paying for all this in the long run. Please focus on offering the consumer better service for monies spent rather than focusing solely on your bottom line. If you want to give something back to consumers, reduce your tariffs for a change. Such an action would be greatly appreciated by all consumers. We are fed up with your Trojan horse lottery promotions. Thank you.

OILY BUSINESS

OILY BUSINESS

You struck oil,
Now everyone wants a piece of you,
They all want in on the action
So many of them come bearing Trojan horses
Hope you’re taking lessons from Niger Delta.


We’ve not even seen a barrel of oil
Yet the squabbles and quarrels have already begun.
Who is really in control?
Have we put measures in place
For this oily parade?
Legislation
And other foundations
Move in at a trickle,
Snails playing catch up with
A frenetic oil craze.


An oily blessing
Or an oily mess?
Is this an asset
Or a liability?
Jury’s still out on that one.
Are we really prepared for this oily business?


Have we catered for the poor fishermen?
Have we taken into consideration
The wetlands and fragile ecosystems?
Are we well equipped for this oil task?
Are the towns prepared for this oil boom?


The oil necromancy,
A dream come true
Or a nightmare unfolding?
Please tuck in your shirts
And pull up your pants,
Do hold onto your hats
For this oily trip has just begun.
Measure not the work
Until the day’s out
And the labour done.

STX AND AFFORDABLE HOUSING

STX AND AFFORDABLE HOUSING

Wears a shroud
Forever veiled
Clouded and unclear
Clad in darkness,
In a sea of mist and haze
Mysterious confusion.


Deals done in the dark
A people left with questions
People asking how come?
Where from?
Korea?
Who is STX?


They claim to be builders,
Sure they’re builders
They just probably might be builders
But the question still remains
Why STX?
Who is STX?
Where from STX?
Anybody ever heard of them before?
Saw them on my television last weekend,
A documentary on STX.
Looked like a fast food joint commercial to me.


From South Korea you say, this STX
Really?
All the way from Asia?
Are they any good?
They must be,
We got them here all the way from
South Korea, that’s quite a distance
To travel for affordable housing.


How affordable is affordable housing?
Is it this pretty reliable housing?
How much per unit of this affordable housing?
You call it affordable,
Pretty relative, that word affordable
How affordable is affordable?
Who knows the meaning of affordable?


You’ve spoken enough confusing English
Kindly speak to Ghana in plain and simple English,
The man on the street fails understand you
Neither does the unemployed university
Graduate sitting beside him
What happened to communication?
Your brand of English is topsy-turvy.
How many units do you plan on building?
200,000 you say,
Pretty impressive, 200,000 eh?
At least you are thinking affordable,
That should count for something right?


What is this I hear about GREDA complaining?
Apparently, they feel they have been handed the
Short end of the stick.
I guess Ghanaian builders are that terrible,
GREDA and co, your nation feels you’re terrible.
All those housing units you built,
Your nation does not consider them good enough buildings,
Maybe they look like shacks or tents,
I can’t quite tell, kindly ask your nation Ghana.
What a shame, we had to go all the way to South Korea
To bring in their builders.
Ghana needed affordable houses,
Can you guess what Ghana did?
We went all the way to South Korea
Looking for affordable housing.


What makes these Koreans so impressive?
A better work ethic?
Do they manufacture burnt bricks with bare hands?
Maybe they work for 24 hours nonstop
Who knows?
Only those who brought them in can tell us.
What happened to creating jobs?
What happened to empowering the Ghanaian
To take the reigns of his nation’s destiny?


Are Ghanaian contractors only good for pothole patching,
Replacement of rotten floor boards and pulling of road side weeds?
Isn’t it way past time we developed our nation’s human resource
Other than running after those of others?
Ever wondered how come their skilled labour
Seem much better than ours?
Are they really better than ours?
What makes our builders bad?
What makes STX better?
Can we not make ours good enough?
Have we thought of making ours better?
You overlooked the local contractors,
That’s an endorsement of how terrible you feel they are.


So many questions hang in the air,
STX and affordable housing,
What makes those two synonymous?
What is the nitty-gritty of that deal?
We do not need documentaries
With spectacular camera angles
Touting the prowess of STX
We do not need STX on our television sets
All we need is the nitty-gritty of the STX
Affordable housing deal.
We keep wallowing in our mistakes
We keep parading our mistakes,
Does Ghana enjoy making mistakes?
Is the Ghanaian nation a mistake?
Please give us the nitty-gritty of the
STX Ghana affordable housing deal.


You sacrifice local labour in the name of a better Ghana,
Soon, there will be nobody in Ghana for you
To talk to about a better Ghana.
Is this the better Ghana?
Please tell us more on STX and Ghana,
We woke one more and heard of STX
The very presence of STX is an
Indictment on the character of our nation
Please do tell us more on STX and Ghana.

INDEMNITY CLAUSE OR INFIRMITY CLAUSE?

INDEMNITY CLAUSE OR INFIRMITY CLAUSE?

Indemnity,
An insurance policy,
Exemption from penalty
Exemption from liability.


Why seek indemnity?
Is that not an admission of guilt?
If there is no wrong,
Why the need for exemption from penalty?
To whom much is given,
Much is expected.
With responsibility comes liability.


Indemnity,
An assurance,
A free pass,
An ace up one’s sleeve
A get-out-of-jail free card.


Actions
Breed consequence.
Causes and effects.
Indemnity
Endorses impunity.
Indemnity and rule of law,
That is absolute nonconformity.
Wherever impunity resides
Civil liberties are trampled upon.
People are sacrificed
On the altar of ambition.


Indemnity serves just a few,
There’s no common good.
Where’s justice in indemnity?
Indemnity,
To absolve one off responsibility
Indemnity justifies impunity.


Indemnity,
Justice denied the aggrieved
For an eternity.
Indemnity,
To declare innocence guilty.
Indemnity,
Just a fancy word for grave infirmity.

DEFLECTING DEFLECTIONS

DEFLECTING DEFLECTIONS

It was close
Too close to call
We were still undecided.
We rolled the dice again
In the end, one pulled ahead
But only by two hair lengths.
We settled,
Better than a stalemate.
We handed you the reigns
We expected nothing short of better,
After all, you did promise us better.


Thought you’d hit the ground running,
How wrong we were.
You did hit the ground alright
But so far you’ve done no running.
You’re flailing, slowly drowning
Without even setting out to sea
We’re yet to see you break into a run.
House, in disarray
Servants, on holiday
Citizenry, saddled with grief, anguish and meager wage
Social systems, nonexistent
Policies, pretty confusing
Your explanations, more confusing
In summary, we’re all jaded, pretty tired.


Education’s no good
Free for all, way to go
Quality, pretty suspicious, that’s no good.
Students can barely read and write
They argue 4 plus 2 minus 1 is ten
Pretty costly,
These free things of yours.
Cost of utilities, sky high
Basic wage, a sham, a shame, a shambles running amok.
We labour in futility
Electrical gadgets, we now use ‘em sparingly
Potable water, still a myth today.
The economy, conflicting information
We fail understand your tail wagging brand
Of economic English.
Health Insurance, a perilous insurance
A deadly insurance
It’s cash and carry all over again.
Affordable housing, welcome the South Koreans
Road Projects, welcome the Chinese and others
Where is our nation’s human resource?


Oil industry, cloaked in secrecy
Too many unanswered questions
How can you run an industry
With so many structures out of place?
Have we learnt nothing from
Our brothers in the Niger Delta?
Have we not learnt anything from the
Oil spill in the Mexican Gulf?
Smash and grab
Tackle from behind
Heckling and squabbling for majority stake,
Who is running the show in this Oil drenched comedy?
Too many players in this oily game.
Job creation, we await Houdini figures
At best, all we’ll ever get are a few public shows
Touting figures simmering to a boil
Well cooked yet still a tough swallow.
What happened to transparency?
What happened to the voice of the people?
What happened to the common good?
Oh!!! How easily people forget
We’re still waiting on our cake
Almost two years and counting
You sure must be baking one heck of a cake.
Then again, you just might have left us out
In the sharing of the proverbial cake.


The proverbial sluggards
We despised the ant and enjoyed the harmattan
Then came the rains
With it, the floods.
People shrieked in pain
Houses washed away in runoff
Houses without roofs
Gone with the wind
People with nowhere to sleep
But they had it better,
Others had torrid tales untold.
Come the next morning,
Horrid tales did unfold.
Lives lost in floodwaters,
People distressed
Saddened and
Grieving for loved ones lost.


They looked up to you for hope
You looked into their expectant eyes
You told them an age old-tale
You did not even blink an eye.
Blame the guy who was here before me
This is all his fault, he’s the guilty party here.
He marched rubbish and garbage into waterways
He dumped rubbish into sewers and drains
He built houses on all the waterways
He did command the torrential rains.
Look upon him with disdain
He’s no saint
Just one without shame.
I see your pain
I wish you well
These floods have always plagued us
It is a part of us
It is our culture
Please do embrace the floods
And blame the one who came before me
He’s the source of all our troubles and woes.


When the road is potholed
And uncomfortable to drive on,
Please do not come to me
Go drop your grievances at the doorstep
Of my predecessor,
He’s the tyrant
He’s the despot
He’s the miscreant
He has a hand in all of these.


When you drown in taxes
And die of disease,
When you go hungry
And live in abject poverty,
Please blame the guy who came before me
He’s a very greedy and selfish man
He only came to enrich himself
And left us all impoverished and broke.
He brought ex-gratia
He gave us our share
We took those cheques through no fault of ours
The law said we were entitled to them.
If we had our own way,
We would have given back those cheques
But we cannot disobey
Legislative, Judicial and executive instruments,
Have no idea which of the above prescribed ex-gratia
But refusing that service award
Would be very wrong
Very unpatriotic and quite unacceptable.


Grieve not people
Instead, wise up
Be a strong people.
Instead of dying of hunger
Live, become an eight wonder
My brother, rumble like thunder
And bellow into the yonder.
Count the days,
The nights
The months
And the years.
Count patiently
Please wait patiently
When presented with choices,
Go on and use your head.
Do not choose based on
Colour
Ethnicity
Location
Propaganda
Paltry handouts and free things
But rather listen intently.
When in doubt, question continuously
And choose with conviction
Choose free of inhibition.
It is only you and I who can build this nation
We hold the keys to the gates of our nation
Rise and let us build this nation
We need discover that which made us
That once proud nation
The coast of gold
The star of Africa.

THE PRIDE OF AFRICA

THE PRIDE OF AFRICA

You fought a good fight,
You braved the storms.


When we did not believe
You did believe.


We got scared when the going tough,
Yet you stood tall, dogged and brave.


You beat the Serbians in a 90 minute play
Sent an entire nation into raptures all day.


All did sing your praise that day
The Black Stars, a people’s most recent craze.


You stumbled on an Australian stone
At you, your nation felt like throwing stones.


You fell on a German sword
But the Lord was neither Australian nor Serbian,
On that day, He was very Ghanaian.


Red
Yellow
Green
With a black star in the middle
Those, His very colours.


You beat the U.S.A.
And awoke a sleepy nation,
The pride of Africa
Your claim to fame.


A true African star
In a group of eight.
You went past 16
You made the one-eight
You went one better,
You took a step further
You brilliantly made the quarters.


A semi-final
Oh we couldn’t wait.
You gave us so much belief
We chose the semis your least berth.
Come Friday the second of July 2010
History did beckon,
We knew you would march in
To take seats in the hall of fame.


You stretched all tendons
Overworked the muscles
Sent the brain into overtime.
Yes!!!! You did fall
Yet, you made a nation proud
You brought pride to an entire continent.


At the eleventh hour,
You did fumble
But out of our hearts you’ll never tumble.
The world did doubt you
A few of us did too.


Yet you stood atop the mountain
Waving the Ghanaian flag for all to see.
You stood tall
You made all of Africa proud.
You brought joy to Africa,
You set a continent alight
I couldn’t be more proudly African.


You painted us all in beautiful delight
You united a continent
You gave us belief.


Your laurels we look on in disbelief
Your fighting spirit has given us renewed belief.
In the black star of Africa
I do believe
I see Africa slowly rising
Like the leaves of the baobab tree.


Well done oh gallant stars
When shame threatened Africa
You did not cower and hide
Neither did you flail in despair
Rather, you refused to succumb.
When Africa called, you rose to the occasion
You never shamed us,
You showed the world how Africa fights.


In spite of all you’ve done,
The rest of the world still doubts you
Yet silently, the Black Stars of Ghana’s
What they continually mumble.
Africa never doubts
We will always rally behind you
We are more than proud of you
You’re Africa’s pride.


You played your hearts out
In that spectacular stadium.
You fought like gladiators
In ancient Rome’s coliseum.
You left your beating hearts on the pitch that day
You bled Africa for over two hours that day


Through football,
You united a continent.
You’ve given me renewed belief in African unity.
I envision a united Africa come someday,
I still dream of a United States of Africa
To this very day.


Forever gallant
Forever soldiers
Eternally heroes,
You’ll forever remain Africa’s heroes.


Reach for the stars
Unfurl your wings
Hold sway like a mighty wind.


Do not rest
Aspire to higher heights
For it is only in death
Shall Africa bid you rest.
Ayekoo Black stars of Ghana
The Pride of Africa.