So you are gone.
You too.
Gone, you too are gone.
I bid you carry a message,
you who once asked Agosi to do the same.
Have you seen them yet?
Have you met Agosi?
Kpeti and Kove?
What of your namesake Nyidevu?
How do they?
Tell them not to rest easy,
For Kpeti’s great household is not rebuilt.
The fence still lies un-mended.
The cowards have grown bolder,
they who never dared look Kpeti in his face.
Ah! What is this?
See what treatment you have meted out to us,
our hearts heavy with sorrow and yet you ask us hold our tears.
Oh! Nyidevu Kofi,
how can you beat a child and grudge him his portion of tears?
Death has made war on our house again.
For Nyidevu Kofi himself is no more.
The new trees we tried putting up in the fence
have been eaten by termites again.
Now the crow and vulture are united gluttons.
See how they hover.
Do not idle.
Haste and tell our lot.
Let these strangers desist the constant gallivanting of our portion.
Ah! What jest?
Dare you laugh.
Nyidevu, you laugh at us?
Well as may.
You whose strides are like giants’
how can we match you,
whose gigantic strides still line
this sphere?
So now you know,
thus your grin.
You have looked Dzogbese Lisa in the face.
You know it all.
The sharps of the forest
where return seemed impossible
and pushing forward was tricky.
That all was jest.
You, who had the power to conquer all these.
And the chameleon faeces.
You are clean now I can see.
Somehow you have managed it.
You have cleaned now and it is gone.
Returned from the world’s extreme corner,
back home now.
Sitting in row with the eminent.
Yours was by dint of hard work and not luck.
The rain shall beat you no more,
The sun has lost hold over you.
You have gathered the firewood
of this world, you who took heart.
True, you were too good for
this world.
You have made your destination.
The good traveller.
Your debts all paid.
You have no cause to weep.
Gallant sons to wield the guns,
pretty daughters to wail.
And yet you wish it otherwise.
What jest?
You have gone beyond,
rest well but do not idle,
lest the walls remain broken
and Kpeti’s household remains unmade.
Kin and brothers gather in salute.
Rest well Nyidevu Kofi Awoonor.
Etornam Agbodo is a Ghanaian poet and past contributor to One Ghana, One Voice.
This poem is part of our series of poems in memory of Kofi Awoonor. You can learn more about Awoonor and the series here. If you have a poem in memory of Kofi Awoonor, please send it to us at oneghanaonevoice(at)gmail(dot)com.
He came to me.
This morning the 24th of May.
Beaming a smile with radiant eyes.
Expecting as is his right.
I opened the door to his authoritative knock.
"Good morning!" He exclaimed triumphant.
Through sleepy haze I glanced at him.
One eye almost closed.
"Dad, it’s my Birthday." He said.
The power of sleep lost hold instantly.
Yes, the 24th of May.
He was born the day afore nine years ago.
That his birthday was yesterday mattered not.
I was not there, had not wished him happy.
It is his birthday until proper ceremony is done.
I stood helpless, hiding tears behind mock frown.
I couldn’t make promises,
For I had no power to fulfill.
Penniless.
"We’ll see to that later."
The deep boom of my worthless voice answered.
Blatant lie.
We’d see to nothing.
There was naught I could do.
Shames this sphere heaps on me.
My lot may be.
Helpless.
Shy still to state.
Without means.
Not able to provide one morsel of my own.
Yet still I hope.
A birthday to you my son though I dare not say happy.
Perchance that day comes,
When I can truly wish your birthday happy indeed.
Till then, "Birthday" to you, son.
Biography:
Etornam Adbodo was born premature in the Township of Agbozume in the Volta Region, two and a half months before time. He bets he was making a dash for it, never wanted anything slow. The year was 1974, the world was not well equipped for little hell-raisers like him, much the worse in Ghana. The doctor rightly said he had a very slim chance of making it but he did, and in fact has outlived that doctor. He schooled in Ghana and left for the UK just after his tertiary education. None of his school days were without incidence though. He is back in Ghana now and happy though he still goes back to the UK now and again to see family and friends.
Etornam's first ever complete published work, a compilation of poems entitled Verses of a Poet was published in the UK. He has written short stories and poems, with some making it into magazines and newspapers. Writing, for him, is a continual journey. The journey of his life, lights and sounds that he loves to share. He endeavors to live each day in a meaningful and even profitable way, though he might fail often. It is all part of the journey.
Five Questions with Etornam Adbodo:
1. How long have you been writing poetry?
I started my journey into the literary world in the good old days sitting in the sand and listening to my aunts and gran telling fables under the moonlight. I got so carried away by it that I started telling my own tales. I was fascinated they enjoyed these and kept asking where I heard them from, not suspecting I formulated them myself. Then there came a time when I just wanted to get long ideas and experiences written in short syllables. That is when I stumbled upon the poetry thing. That was back in the early nineties. I had some good audience I still hope they did not follow my writings because they were friends.
2. Who are your favourite poets? Which poets have most informed and inspired your work?
I love poetry and indulge that whim so much. I have read alongside poets like Spicy Fingers in Birmingham and Mrs. Cooper at literary events. I love their works but for now if I should select favorites, I should go for the renowned Wole Soyinka and that eternal poet, Thomas Hardy. I must confess my list does not end there.
3. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?
Poetry for me is the totality of my journey and experiences I wish to share. It is an effort to reach out and feel myself breathing and living.
4. You were a resident of the UK, but have moved back to Ghana. What inspired the move?
Moving back to Ghana was no easy choice. I had built stable family life and amassed good friends in the UK, but I still missed those little treasures I used to take for granted when I hadn't traveled. That social grace where everyone in the community knows your family by name, that sense of belonging which is more present in Ghana than in good old Britain where it was from work to the comforts of the heater in your house, and where your next door neighbor hardly knew your name. I could give a thousand and one reasons but permit me to say it in one established idiom: "Home Sweet Home".
5. Can you tell us a bit more about your novel, in case our readers might be interested in picking it up?
My recent novel is entitled The Dawn of Day. It is an attempt to confront modern day segregation that is rife, though like the proverbial ostrich we tend to hide our faces in the sand and pretend there is no danger until it creeps up on us. I have had to complete application forms and contend with the part where you have to state whether you are a black African, black British, Asian or Caucasian as if your race might determine your output. The novel tells of love's triumph over racial and social segregation. The statement "love conquers all" stands to test.
Contact Etornam:
etornamagbodo(at)yahoo.com
