Yesterday –
he gave the oldest woman
a necklace of jasper,
treated the old men
to bottles of whiskey -
every time you saw the man,
he held a newspaper -
the young women said
he was funny and frisky
he spoke about numbers
as keys to our success,
he sold us the idea of chance
as the answer to circumstance -
under the Odum he lectured us
in mysteries of randomness -
under the sky he made us see
how easy it was to become rich
Today –
the day is young as old roosters chase
plump hens in between hourly crows -
there is a line of women walking
to and from the well with pots of water,
whispering to themselves as they pass him,
turning to steal glances at him -
they say these words among themselves:
he is like a god with numbers
his mind is so good that chance is his mistress,
good fortune is his concubine -
there is nothing under the sun
that he can desire and not have
the men need a way out of the disgrace
of nothingness and it seems that man knows
his stuff as he faces the crowd, talking
about magic numbers and how better
he could make the lives of men who listened to him -
promising fortunes with his master plan -
they say these words among themselves:
he is like a god with numbers
his mind is so good that chance is his mistress,
good fortune is his concubine -
there is nothing under the sun
that he can desire and not have
fathers want their daughters to marry him
sons wish he was their father
wives wish he was their husband
villagers wish he was their chief
the chief is afraid he could
stake a claim to his throne
it seems number-shuffling can replace
hard work and offer comfort from blows
of an existence that keeps stalking
our peace of mind and makes us bitter -
we gather money and give it to him
as investment in his miracle-plan -
we say these words among ourselves:
he is like a god with numbers
his mind is so good that chance is his mistress,
good fortune is his concubine -
there is nothing under the sun
that he can desire and not have
fathers want their daughters to marry him
sons wish he was their father
wives wish he was their husband
villagers wish he was their chief
the chief is afraid he could
stake a claim to his throne
Tomorrow –
the day came when he was supposed
to return but he did not -
some say he might have been a god
sent to test our love of money,
others say something bad might have
happened to him on his way back,
the rest still look forward, each new day,
to his return with our fortunes –
portrait of a lotto prophet as savior of the people - Prince Mensah
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2 comments:
this peice reminds me of "David Dontoh's" advert for National Lottery some years back..
I believe the theme of the work is worthy of our society's attention!!!
nice piece Prince!!!!
You made a point about your use of the refrain. It is ironic how we have come this far with the explosion of poetry via new media, only to be reminded, by use of devices like refrains and repetitions, of poetry's origins in an oral culture. Your refrain also returns us to the reason why the relationship between the 2 parties: prophet and disciples is destructive, and depending on how one looks at it, he is either tapping into a genuine need or feeding off their own greed. At the bottom of society, where one's survival is all that matters, need and greed can sometimes be interchangeable, to the extent that the moral question dares not even arise.
If he starts out by giving gifts to the least threatening members of the society, as in jasper necklaces to old women and whiskey to old women; it is inevitable that the most productive members who have most to prove, would think nothing of investing their hopes in him. His presence in the community for better or worse opens up a Pandora's Jar of questions for all, in that all are forced to measure themselves against him, therefore opening themselves to his scam.
The stakes are higher when you transport this into the political realm, because there seems to be the belief that we can achieve success depending on our choice of candidate, unaware there might be other forces which could impact negatively on our aspirations. Democracy is not a cargo cult, you see.
That said, when you examine his methods, you realize that there is an underlying truth, you may even call it a dark underside to the saying: a prophet has honour, except in his own home. By promising success via the language of numbers, he is aware that they do not have the skills, and do not know enough about him to question his truth claims.
cheers
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