I met him! Yes, I bumped into Nkrumah
in my history book.
We sat down for coffee around the corner.
He had his black,
I went for my usual white and
down I gulped it with a mild cough.
I got myself an autograph.
He was one fine black brother.
Fathia's love, no wonder.
Back at junior high,
my history teacher, Mr. Humble Pie,
asked "Who was Nkrumah?"
"He was a black man,
most coloured of them all," I answered,
"He flashed his manhood when
others had turned eunuch,
when fear kicked them
flying over the couch."
A traitor to the white,
he pinched against them the
art they helped him master,
Son of Nkroful, most anointed of them all.
He pinched them with self rule, now!
His compatriot roared,how!
They knew not his mission
'cause he was milles away from their vision.
A patriot, most charismatic of them all.
His tears and sweats ousted the intruder
for the Ghanaian to regain power.
He bequeathed unto my ancestors the name "freeborn."
With this ode his name I adorn.
"Ode to Nkrumah" is part four of our four-part series of poems on Kwame Nkrumah. Previous postings from the series can be read in our Archives.