Letter to Ebony Reigns from her 'boyfriend'

Dear Ebony,

My love, it's been half a decade since you tragically crossed the river to the garden of Onyame without goodbyes. We were heartbroken and inconsolable, especially me, your sweetheart, and the many who were anticipating you would take us to the international rostrum and bring home some enviable laurels, just like the Osibisa, ET Mensah, and King Bruce of the good old days.

Our dear oman was thrown into rips and wailings! We even refused to eat our favorite fufuo, akple tuo zaafi, komi kenkey na, akyeke napaya, face the wall, banku, and many more.

Very typical of us as a nation of fine mourners, we gave you a befitting send-off in line with a royal daughter like you who paid her dues in full at such a tender age, ona? The pain still lingers in our hearts!

I have been pondering over writing this letter to you for five seasons now. However, Mawu and our ancestors finally boldened me with the courage to reach out to you this season.

We still think about the lyrics that were never released and the esoteric talent left to rot at asamando due to a nation with no respect for laws. And the Grammy Awards that never came, as we look on with our mouths watering as the Naija boys and girls take them to their home at the banks of the Niger River to celebrate with eba and bitter leaf soap.

Sadly, your death has acquainted us with nothing as a nation. I wish you could come and see how the Institutionalized Corruption, Carelessness, Lack of Maintenance Culture, Palm Greasing, Yen kye ndi; Whom You Know; Cronyism; Goro Boys; Jobs for the Boys; Pay As You Go; deepens to a higher proportion, as the oman languishes in abject deprivation.

Nana, I miss you so much and wish you were still here with us and part of our efforts in vain to make our Sika Mpoano with no more sika a prosperous place for our children and their children. Please, if you have WhatsApp wherever you are, kindly remember to send me a message.

As emaa dodo) kunu, sometimes, I take solace in one of your hit songs by twisting it and singing to my countless girlfriends, "If you break my heart, I go date your mother, Pananana! Awww Kofi eei, Mekasa tie me oo..."

Matters Arising

It pains me to let you know that since your demise, your boss Etuo Aboba, nicknamed Ekon by Bonoba Oppon Kyekyeku Kofi Tuo of Magraheb fame, hasn't gotten any better hit song on the muzik market. In fact, there was a big fight in your camp with that spoiled Americana brat, Fanta, and Wendi Shade at the centre stage fighting over who is the indisputable Diva.

It was a USA Vs. Germano beef with the Uncle Sam slang and Deutch, flowing like river Ankobra on Insta. I had nothing to tell them but to quote our ancestors: "It is only when the cat isn't around that the rats can jubilate." I wished you were around to see how Fanta was shouting that she doesn't want any of Rufftown City Records' songs since their lyrics are dried up.

I can't recall whether you met that big-ass girl called Fanta before you left. I need to ask Adolf 2 Cedis 50p Shoe, the entertainment pundit Nii Bandana from Akana is always beefing for clarification.

Talking of Nii Bandana from Akana, I remember you were around when he metamorphosized to Shatta Woole, and you even did a wicked collabo with him. They now call him the Village Champion, and he still rants like a wounded lion, never devoid of controversial controversies.

Anyway, Michy finally jilted his sorry ass! Sometimes he makes sense, many times non-fa! Not long ago, Beyonce featured him on her much-talked-about Lion King album, but he's yet to bring us any better global award of enviable distinction.

The worst part that brought us untold disgrace and to our lowest ebb was at the VGMA Musik Awards four seasons ago. Remember winning the Female Best Artist category a year before you left, and of course, the Overall Best Artist Award posthumous.

There was an unwarranted skirmish between Agyewodin Shatta Woole and his principal antagonist Livingstone Ashaiman Champion aka Sampanana Putuu, with the latter pulling a gun on stage, desecrating the awards. We thought they would end up in Nsawam, sleeping next to their stinking shit, but of course, it is Ama Akana and the Fama Nyame Syndrome.

Your associate Wendi Shade at Rufftown City Records was supposed to keep the tempo and the fire burning concerning the female Dancehall/Afrobeat genre. However, it is apparent that her horsepower isn't powerful like yours, my Extra'O'.

Nana, I beg to say, it's a pity that girl has to live with the stigma that your boss Etuo Aboba De Ekon, has been doing Kuskus Kafrekatw) with her. Hmmm...you know Ama Akana and vile rumors.

At a point, you were even a victim of such horrid gossip, but I know you had tough skin and never wasted your precious time and breath on that. What a nation of rumor-mongers and rabble-rousers!

For your interest, the boys are also angry with Obre for being so selfish and refusing to do a collabo with them, as if the triumph of their career depends on him. A couple of days ago, Apan Dankwa from Frafra land, who now goes by Samine, descended on him in the Twitter Tweet.

I nearly forgot! The new lyrical beef in town is between Legendary Kwabre Bob Marley, affectionately called Emaa Kojo DL, and the Akoko Funu man who goes to church on Saturday, over some kudi accrued from a collabo launching some seasons back.

Odo, mese, enye agoro! The boys will say Wo Ko Ho Ko Ye Den (WKHKYD).

So far, have you met Terry Bonchaka, Castro De Destroyer, Kwabena Kwabena, and recently, the Legendary Naa Ampadu? Should we expect a collabo from you soon with Santo, Suzzy Williams, and the African Child dancing gleefully in the video?

A Nation In Distress

Our Omanhene is now known as Sika Mpe Dede, and the people wish him to die instead of the yoko gari Seller. Please don't get confused, as he didn't get the name from the son of our legendary footballer from Crocodilevile.

Our amanyofo) are living big on Ivory Towers from East Legon, Parakuo Estate, Cantonments, to Trasacco Valley, and drive V8s.

They seek medical treatment in Queensland while the rest struggle with Korlebu, Gee, and 37 with no beds.

Remember us in your prayers, and come to our aid if asamando is a country. We have deservedly fallen victim to political charlatans and quacks more than at any other time in our abakosem as we keep recycling the same political materials with the same derivatives.

Opana, popularly known as the king of Dumso, left us plenty of debts to pay. But your boyfriend is cock sure Sika Mpe Dede, son of the Asona Royal house of Kyebi and his family and friends government, will leave us more, as they seem bereft with ideas.

Though we're lucky there isn't dumso yet, like what keeps happening to our neighbours who dwell on the shores of the river Niger, life is pretty tough for many Akanas. Not long ago, we nearly went Mugabeland style with scary hyperinflation that ravaged our ecomini.

Did you ask what our youth are doing about it? Gyae! Womo ada! Some are also part of the loot.

A crusade called Fix the Oman emerged, but the leaders were, as usual, in it to fill their emaciated chins and to score cheap political points. One of them even stupidly threatened to take us back to June 4th and 31st December if the Asraafo) refuse to do it.

Did I tell you your friend Afia Love, the New York girl from the historical town of Juaben, is one of the enthusiastic leaders? You can imagine; it's more of a circus with no cardinal focus, as they keep asking for Showboy Kofi Nwia of Nzemaland in the 21st Century.

The Future Looks Bright

However, all isn't gloomy on the musical front. The future looks very bright with our new kid on the block.

Straight outta Asante Akyem Konongo Zongo. This dude calls himself Black Sheriffff!

I swear he's putting Ama Akana back on the global musik map. His unconquerable energy and creativity remind me so much of you.

I call him Killa Blacko, and I'm fucking crazy about him. Hey baby, please don't be jealous since he's a guy, and you know I'm straight.

His 1st and 2nd Sermons made a large bang, then he followed it up with Kwaku the Traveller, which was more than wicked and dope! I nearly went mad last year when I was sitting in a bar in Douala in Biyaland, and it was wafting through the air.

His latest EP, The Valian I Never Was, is no oddity. We're waiting for him impatiently to bring us the Grammy, Insha Allah, next year.

I swear we won't sleep that day. We will march from all the corners of this beautiful but politically induced wretched oman to his mother's house at Konongo Zongo to celebrate with him.

May you all, our ancestors and Ataa-Naa Nyonmo, protect and guide him so that what happened to you, Osuba Terry Bonchaka, and the rest, won't come his way. The Motherland needs him badly to carry the red, yellow, and green with the black star in the middle, frankaa, to all corners of the globe.

We miss you so much, and it won't hurt if you can send us a track soon from wherever you are. Until another letter, next season, rest well, my queen.

Your everlasting love,