on this earth,
the beauty gives
the devil takes.
my brother, on this earth,
you must always keep your eyes wide open like our Kofi
so you can see between beauties and devils.
my sister, on this earth,
you must speak your mind in beautiful ways like our Kofi
since nobody will do it for you.
my friends, on this earth,
you must leave a good account of yourself like our Kofi
and songs will be sung of your name.
Kofi A. Amoako is a Ghanaian poet and regular contributor to One Ghana, One Voice.
This poem marks the end of our series of poems in memory of Kofi Awoonor. You can learn more about Awoonor and the series here.
Readers' Picks
When the War Came to Ghana by Andy Aryeetey (November 24th, 2012)
Comments on When the War Came to Ghana:
"With comical images of horror, "When the War Came to Ghana” cleverly drills at the agitation and wranglings which lurk behind Ghana’s peaceful facade. The essence of the message is everything except the endorsement of violence." - Darko Antwi
"Aryeetey is a good poet who is unafraid of telling his society what he sees in the mirror. " - Prince Mensah
"Great piece. I laughed and sighed at the realities of Ghanaian politics and life." - Bernadette Poku
The Still Small Voice by Dela Bobobee (January 21st, 2012)
Comments on A Still Small Voice:
"Dela's poem is a somber call for introspection - as individuals and as a society. It was the first poem to be featured in 2012 and made a world of impact for me by its thematic choices. We might seek the high and lofty or knock on the doors of fate and destiny but weaving through our dreams and actions is the still small voice. The voice of our conscience. The sound of our ideals. The noise of our souls. The aural essence of our spirits. 'The Still Small Voice' is a poem to be read over and over again. It is layered with meanings and laden with reminders to listen to the nudging of our higher angels. In 'The Still Small Voice', Dela Bobobee seeks to preempt a repeat of generational mistakes that have been the bane of many countries in the struggle for social progress. The poet becomes prophet, priest and propagandist for 'the still small voice'. To balance idealism with realism, Mr. Bobobee challenges his readers with another weapon: the past-
if we have done it before
then we can still do it again
Such poetry is hard to find and I definitely consider it as one of the best I have ever read on One Ghana, One Voice." - Prince Mensah
"The Still Small Voice comes from God. This is the voice that speaks to every human heart, whether sinful or righteous. "The Still Small Voice" is a prophetic poem." - Dominic Arituo
"Didactic and very African. I really enjoy not only reading [Dela's] poems but also studying them thoroughly..." - Martin Elorm Dogbo
Our President Died: A Poem for Mills by Nana Yaw Sarpong (August 9th, 2012)
Comments on Our President Died: A Poem for Mills:
"Each poem by Nana Yaw Sarpong inspires respect. "Our President Died: A Poem for Mills" is particularly sovereign, per figurative language. It threads on a plot which the average poet would consider as tightrope. When solidarity is expressed unreservedly, as this poem has, then the author’s objectivity should be praised. " - Darko Antwi
"The tributes we received following President Mills' death were overflowing, both in their praise and their quantity. Nana Yaw Sarpong's was one of the best, most challenging, and most interesting." - Rob Taylor
Staff Picks
O! Jebu! Stared At The Beginning As Ananse Tickled Himself In The End by Novisi Dzitrie (January 28th, 2012)
Comments on O! Jebu! Stared At The Beginning As Ananse Tickled Himself In The End:
"This poem employs mythology and legend to explain the mundane. By doing this, Novisi Dzitrie continues the ageless tradition in African cultures that teaches wisdom and knowledge through folklore. Nowadays, African poets try to sound like Western poets in their themes and techniques but a poet like Novisi is to be praised. He takes the old and makes it new. He moves ahead by connecting with the past. "O! Jebu!..." is allegory through poetic devices, a superb example of a distinctive essence in African literature - the commingling of tangibles and intangibles as a device to understand existence. " - Prince Mensah
"Novisi Dzitrie is a writer whose literature has the flair to attract obsessive public admiration. His wits are so sharp, and his imagery so refined." - Darko Antwi
"A wonderful, playful poem. It got my vote based on the title alone!" - Rob Taylor
Memories of the Electricity Company of Ghana by Kofi A. Amoako (February 4th, 2012)
Comments on Memories of the Electricity Company of Ghana:
"Kofi A. Amoako, a Toronto-based Ghanaian poet, was a wonderful new arrival here at OGOV in 2012. We featured four of his poems over the course of the year, and any one of them could have been selected here. "Memories" was his first, most playful, and perhaps most filled with love for his home country." - Rob Taylor
"I love this poem! What an insight into life in Ghana. I will be visiting soon and I hope the power is on and off when needed!" - Moira
Tapestry by Darko Antwi (November 3rd, 2012)
Comments on Tapestry:
"It was a pleasure to watch "Tapestry" develop on our site. Originally written in response to Jabulani Mzinyathi's sharp-edged poem "french conference in the drc" and posted in the comment section, we were able to watch Darko Antwi work through a number of iterations before arriving at the final poem. And what a final poem it is: simple in language and yet weaving a complicated and beautiful tapestry of languages and ideas." - Rob Taylor
""Tapestry" is a trapeze between one's native tongue and another tongue - essential for wordsmiths, important to seekers of wisdom. We really do not know this wide world until we understand it in another person's language." - Prince Mensah
Today we got the driver with the heavy right foot
That driver with a bad temper and an eye for the tightest space to overtake
Yes, the same one who has mastered these Accra streets
The driver who knows every gospel song on the radio and every insult there is
and holds his tongue neither for saints nor sinners
Of all his qualities, nothing worries us more than his heavy right foot
The foot that harshly steps on the accelerator as if he's killing a serpent
When he drives, our hearts are in our stomachs and our stomachs in our mouths
Despite loud groans and muffled protests, the heavy footed driver proceeds
with little care in the world
We can't change him
But if we could, we'd lighten the weight in his right foot
The foot that steadfastly pins down the accelerator like an unmovable rock
the foot that flies us through this thick Accra traffic
Biography:
Kofi A. Amoako was born and raised in Ghana, however he has spent the last decade and a half in Toronto, Canada - mainly as a student and and as a youth engagement worker. He's working to complete his International Development studies degree. He enjoys humour, soccer and all the other simple things in between.
Five Questions with Kofi A. Amoako:
1. When were you last in Accra? Have you found the traffic to be getting better or worse with each visit?
I was in Accra last October, and also the summer before that. I think the intensity of Accra traffic doesn't allow much room for comparison - it was simply terrible both times. But major road constructions at the time had a lot to do with it. I'm told that the construction is speeding up so I'm hoping this translates into decreased traffic.
2. Do you have any particularly harrowing experiences with "heavy footed" drivers? Was this poem inspired by one of those experiences, or was it an amalgamation of many experiences?
After work one evening when there were no trotros available, I got into a taxi with a couple of people because it was getting late. The driver said he needed to get back to the station before a certain time, however the traffic was bumper to bumper. This driver did the unthinkable thing of driving on the opposite side of the road at top speed. All he said was "you said you were in a hurry so this is no time to be afraid". I thought that was going to be my death day.
This incident stands out for me but Accra is notorious for heavy footed drivers and horrible road safety precautions.
3. Do you think of some of Ghana's leaders as sometimes having a "heavy right foot", pushing the country in a certain direction too quickly or dangerously? Are there areas of Ghana's development that you think could use a "lighter foot"?
I'd say that any heavy footed push in certain directions is usually a result of neglect on the part of previous administrations. Also, politics has become such that government is working in the interest of the 4 year election cycle instead of the long term. So we hope, for instance, that the dance with China is a well-calculated one or even that the oil wealth is a well-measured blessing. If anything, the concern lies in the light-footed approach to some key areas of the nation's development. For example, primary education, health, security and sanitation issues, the urban explosion, infrastructural deficiencies, and so forth are all in need of heavy footing.
4. You recently contributed a poem to our series of memorial poems for John Atta Mills. How did his death affect you? How was the news of his death received in Toronto's Ghanaian community?
The President's passing was a hurtful one because I felt a connection with and admired his temperament. I was curious about the transition process but that went about smoothly enough. I believe that many within the Ghanaian community in Toronto had similar curiosities as I did. His passing was certainly shocking and if nothing else, it got people interested in Ghana's affairs again.
5. How is your writing coming these days? Can we look forward to more poems of yours coming down the pipe in the near future?
The writing is moving along well. I find myself making time to write, which is important. Definitely, I look forward to sharing more.
Contact Kofi:
eugene.amoako(at)gmail.com
Mr. President, what is the measure of greatness?
The support of adoring lovers?
Or fortitude in spite of a foe?
One’s dignity when the night covers?
Or perhaps it's something we'll never know.
Through you, this much we do know:
We reap what we sow;
As in, patience is next of kin of perseverance;
And humility often harvests excellence
In one swift moment,
You made our hairs stand longer,
And forced our consciousness to broaden
In one swift moment,
You pushed democracy a step further
Though leaving our faces sullen
In one swift moment
Like the flight of a wounded bird
You made naysayers eat their piercing words
They realize, after all, that you were merely bones, blood, frail like them
In one swift moment
during that icy encounter you could not avoid,
You made your beloveds feel the void
They acknowledge, once and for all, that you were truly a gem
Ha! And they say nothing good comes out of death
How else would we've appreciated your time on earth?
So in bitter bitterness, a nation will mourn
as a gentle grave tries to cradle you
But when the next generation is born
The light of your vision will be lit anew
If that's not a measure of greatness, then nothing is.
Kofi A. Amoako is a Ghanaian poet who currently resides in Toronto, Canada. He is a regular contributor to One Ghana, One Voice.
I could predict, almost to that very minute
When mothers would begin calling their children
Kofi! Ama! Kojo! Esi! Kwame!
Of course, the sweetness of play encouraged boys to ignore these calls
But one by one, they would disappear as play began its slow death.
I could predict because it was almost always at the same time
When the pestle and mortar began their fufu dance
When pots and pans chimed as they struck the ground
When ladles swam across hot pots of groundnut soup.
I could predict because this was right after
The sun had settled but not comfortably still
And bats were eagerly flying to wherever in their thousands
When the coops were quiet because the roosters had began dozing
And the young shepherds trailed the last sheep and the excitable goats.
Such were the times when nights fell on playing children.
Biography:
Kofi A. Amoako was born and raised in Ghana, however he has spent the last decade and a half in Toronto, Canada - mainly as a student and and as a youth engagement worker. He's working to complete his International Development studies degree. He enjoys humour, soccer and all the other simple things in between.
Five Questions with Kofi A. Amoako:
1. The two poems of yours that we've featured on OGOV, "Night falls..." and "Memories of the Electric Company of Ghana" both have a touch of nostalgia to them. In relation to your memories of Ghana, what do you think you personally get from writing these poems? Is it a way to share your memories publicly, or a way to record your memories for yourself, or a way to unlock memories you may have forgotten, or... ?
It is definitely about recapturing memories and smiling, laughing or crying to them. On a personal level, it is a way of re-living those moments. It is also a way of capturing "the good old days", as every generation likes to maintain. And surely people who have experienced similar things will be able to picture the instances and join in saying that "ah, those were indeed some good times." It’s like sharing childhood stories with old friends.
2. In our last interview you listed your favourite poets, and then added "the poetry in old high-life songs". Could you elaborate on that more? What are some of your favourite high-life songs? And which songs jump out at you for their poetic content?
I love highlife because of the intelligence, words, rhythms and the quality musicianship. Old high-life songs are filled with wonderful messages and the lyrics are full of great symbolism, proverbs and analogies. It is really impossible to pick favourites, but here are some memorable ones:
- Alex Konadu sings “A dumb (mute) man had a dream/ how is he going to get it interpreted" (this song is about the powerlessness in being voiceless OR the powerlessness of being the lone witness). Another verse of that song goes, “if you see ‘truth’ crying by the roadside, it’s because ‘lies’ are beating him”.
- Nana Ampadu sings “family is not a social club that you can join and quit/ If it were, I would’ve quit mine a long time ago" (he talks about the difficulty in being a permanent member of a structure - as in accepting the good with the bad, whether you like it or not).
- In another song, Nana Ampadu says "The fact that I’m going to die does not hurt me as much as the possibility of an evil person inheriting my family" (having no control when death is involved).
- In “Patience” by Yamoah’s Band, one verse goes “if you don’t look carefully, you won’t see it clearly / if you doing listen carefully, you won’t understand it".
- Amakye Dede sings “when a rock breaks, you can’t sew it / If it could be sewn, I would’ve sewn mother back together” (he equates mothers to rocks while crying about the finality of death)
3. How do you choose where to break your lines? To break your stanzas?
Line breaks and stanza breaks are very difficult for me. This is because I have a tough time deciding where to cut off and begin again. For me, since I prefer the story form of writing, as in ‘retelling’ stories, I enjoy blabbing on and on. I like to get the ideas out of my head and onto paper as quickly as possible so a lot of the time I don’t think about breaks until after the idea has been released.
4. This poem is filled with motion - the pestle and mortar "dance", ladles "swim", etc. I wonder here how you planned this poem before you wrote it - did you start with a complete vision that included all of this motion (the mother's busy kitchen, the children in the playground, the bats, etc.) or do you start with perhaps one image or one line and build from there in a less "envisioned" manner, pulled perhaps from line to line or image to image?
Thinking back, the evening time was filled with a lot of movement or motion. You see that everybody is trying to complete their tasks before darkness settles in (eg. nobody wants to pound fufu in the dark). And this is especially so for people who are away from home – they try to get home before full darkness. So you have working men walking briskly, people rushing to get on buses and taxies, sellers doing their final accounting to close down shop in order to rush home to their families, etc.
I’m glad you noticed these ‘motions’ because I certainly didn’t consciously think about it. It wasn’t planned in that way – I was just attempting to describe what I remember of that part of the day.
5. Were you always obedient to your mother when she would call you in? Do you have a particular memory of a time when you disobeyed and got in trouble? This can be either trouble that resulted from staying out late, or trouble that came down upon you when you returned home and faced your mother!
Young boys enjoy playing and football got many of us in trouble. I would be called to do my evening chores like fetching water with the other kids before the tap was shut off. But of course I would continue playing while the others did their rounds. When I finally got home, I would still have to go get the water (either alone or with the rest of the boys who had ignored their mothers’ calls). This often involved traveling long distances because the closest taps would be closed for the evening. You were always scared to return home empty-handed because that would result in beating. This was a daily thing.
Contact Kofi:
eugene.amoako(at)gmail.com
On, off
On, off
On for a while
Off for a while longer
On during the day
Off during the night time when the moon is late
On when the television is broken
Off when the final match is showing
On when nothing needs freezing
Off when the morgues are overcrowding
On when the clothes are drying on the line
Off when it's time for ironing
On when the charcoal is plentiful
Off when there's a kerosene shortage
On when there's nothing to do
Off when needle needs threading
On when nobody's home
Off when the party is still young
On when there are secrets to be shared
Off when we need to see the faces of strangers
Dear Electricity Company of Ghana,
Turn it on when I need to see my scars, my memories
Turn it off when I cry and feel vulnerable
Turn it on when I mouth "I love you" to my dear
Turn it off when my lover feels shy
On those nights when rain bounces on the roof.
Biography:
Kofi A. Amoako was born and raised in Ghana, however he has spent the last decade and a half in Toronto, Canada - mainly as a student and and as a youth engagement worker. He's working to complete his International Development studies degree. He enjoys humour, soccer and all the other simple things in between.
Five Questions with Kofi A. Amoako:
1. How long have you been writing poetry?
I've been writing for about 10 years now - though not focused enough or consistently enough for my own liking.
2. Who are your favorite poets? Which poets have most influenced and informed your work?
I enjoy the poetry of Amiri Baraka, Gabriel Okara, Maya Angelou, Chinua Achebe, Leopold Senghor, and Ernest Hemingway is wonderful as well. I also love the poetry in old high-life songs - they are simply brilliant.
3. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?
I just want to share some of my ideas or perspectives on all sorts of topics and happenings. But on a personal level, it is a way of reflecting on certain experiences and realities (whether first-hand or of others). It is also a way of relating to other people who may or may not have an understanding of the images that the poem is attempting to paint. It's a way of providing commentary on day to day activities, event, memories, imagined worlds, etc.
4. You note in your bio that you are now living in Canada (hence the poem being about "memories"). When were you last in Ghana. Do you have plans to return soon?
Memories are important to living and Ghana is a memorable place. Luckily, I have gotten the opportunity to go to Ghana on two occasions in the last two years. I was there for five months from May-October 2011 on an internship. And yes, I plan on returning soon (I've begun the long process of saving all the pennies that I come across).
5. How do you think living in Canada for the last decade and a half has shaped your writing? Do you think yo would be writing more or less the same things, in the same style, if you still lived in Ghana?
Living in Canada has definitely influenced me because I have spent over half of my life here. Being an immigrant definitely allows one to have a clearer understanding and/or appreciation of both the life experiences in the old country and in the new country. So for instance, I am much appreciative of my Ghanaian upbringing as a result of being in Canada. Similarly, I am thankful for my Canadian experience because it has allowed me to grow in many ways. So surely, my writing wouldn't be the same if I still lived in Ghana because the lens with which I engage the world would not be the same. A person's perspective is shaped by many factors and for migrating people, location plays a critical role in forming that perspective.
Contact Kofi:
eugene.amoako(at)gmail.com
