The water that calls forth fire is strange water
The fire that burns on water is a strange fire
Let every clan know
Oil can spoil our toil to make progress
And foil our march to good fortune
On the wings of the master bird
I fly across the territories of Ghana
Looking out for the billowing smoke
From your grandmother's kitchen
That signifies you will drink grandma’s soup of snails and crabs
So that I may call you by the names your ancestors approved
Abeiku, Abeba, Abe
Alas… you stand beyond my lens
My kafugbe lies across my shoulder
Stuffed with metal powder from the village blacksmith
Headlamp sits on my forehead
My bare chest stands hardened and ready to die
The wailing of our women folk fade in the chill of the wet night
I note each how each note urges me on to advance into the jungle
I lead the Asafo troupes through the Adansi forests
Fishing through the semi-deciduous undergrowth for the smell of human armpit
That I may rescue you; lift you onto my shoulders
While I whisper your nsamraneee
Okofo, Afroso, Mensa Kese
Alas…you stand beyond the river
On the broad back of the king whale
I swim across the Ga-Dangme seas
Weaving between the rocks and the floating Charlie wote
Searching for the fish with the silver tongue that can spew out your names to me
So I may proclaim your sabla from Tema to Kokrobite
Akweley, Borteley, Lamley
Alas…you stand beyond nshonaa
Tamale savannahs
Oda forests
Nungua seas
Tell me the names of my brothers
Who for daily bread walked the streets
Show me pictures of my sisters
Who for shelter run to the canopy
Declare now where you hide them
That I may fly on the wings of a master bird
To carry them to safety’s shores
Feel the anguish of our mothers
Beating their breasts at the family house and crying buckets full
They flood their chests with tears that pour like the angry heavens that heaped sadness on them
Their scarfs lie crumbled as their braided hairs lose their threads
Flayed flesh hold hearts of gold
That wail and dare the bold
The waters we plead to come soften the grounds
Come and harden our convictions that all is not well
Shady shadows loiter the village square
Strange sewage litter the festival dais
The durbar grounds stink
Bare knuckles of kwashiorkor-ridden teenagers clutch long handles of fake brass
That support faded umbrellas dyed with cheap sudii
To cover the shaved head of our chief
Who sits on a ruined palanquin secured with twisted strands of dry grass
I wait for the diviners to decipher how water calls forth fire
Let the soothsayers tell how water blazes as fire
Consuming our royals in our sight in our tropical night
Spewing strange sounds that silence a whole community
Sense the sticky airs that eat our breaths
The water that scorches at night like the noon day sun is strange water
The fire that burns on water is a strange fire
Theo Aryee
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