This captivating poem by Amarkine uses symbolism to tell Ghana’s gory illegal gold mining story.  The story of the destruction to water bodies and the aquatic life by illegal gold miners is a sad one and the tone of this poem adequately captures it.--My eyes popped out at what my ears heard. Gold is rusting in the Gold Coast And the rains, instead of falling from the skies to douse the rot, Are springing and shooting up from the ground. The sky no longer exists. The top we all looked up to has become a hollowed space, Dirtied with greedy lust And gold dust. All the heavens above us, With its suns and stars Now live under our feet. And the gods who lived up there have fallen and become Operators of earthmoving excavators. And everyone watches on, Thinking these are surreal and make-believe scenes from Kumawood. Nkrumah is convinced these are not his people. He tells J.B. his country is under siege from neocolonialists Who have landed on Ghanaian soil from an Airbus. Ephraim Amu turns in his grave and swears: This is not my “Yen Ara Asaase ni” Amarkine Amarteifio.