Ode to the abused Ghanaian

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 Source: Sakyi, Kwesi Atta

You came round to eat my yam

Then you came again to eat my nshima (maize pasta)

But today, you must prostrate

And pay homage

I have daubed my body with sweet-scented cocoa cream

I have smeared some parts with natural shea butter

And I have also dubbed my pudenda with

Bint-el-Sudan talcum powder

For Friday evening special effect,

On Saturday, I prefer scintillating aroma

Of Townhall or Saturday Night talcum vintage,

Yes, I am ready for those who pay,

They get the password to the secret gate

They obtain discounts and a good bargain,

Good customer, call again

You came to suck succulent breasts

You came to steal sweet kisses

But today you must pay

Or else you will eat cold nshima

With maggot-infested bearded meat,

Not even cold matoka leftovers for you

If you want fresh hot nshima

Or hot yummy pounded yam with

Ogbono or egusi soup and bitter leaf,

Stuffed with chunks of Isi ewu (goat meat) –

Or do you prefer ugali, joloff rice, jambalaya or couscous?

Then you must pay, pay really big

Nshima is not for free

Nor is pounded yam or any of the African dishes,

In a credit crunch period

The naira is expensive to mint

Yet I’m reasonable enough to know

You don’t vomit cash

But understand, I have endless needs to

Keep the good sexy looks and be dapper

Besides, I need insurance for old age

I run risk of female diseases

Like cervical cancer, obstretic

Fistula and cancer of the breast,

Just as you men suffer prostate cancer

And urinary retention

I detest men with stingy arms

I abhor mean men with stony hearts

If you come again without a loaded purse

I shall incant on you a secret curse

I will crush your nostrils in bed

With my helluva surplus breasts

To cause asphyxia

I will yank your silly willy from between your legs

I will dump your shoes and clothes

In the dirty running kitchen sink

Then give you a forensic frisk over

When I’ve crooned you to a deep sleep

In your drunken stupor,

Then you will trudge home through the village

In your birthday suit in the wee hours

Of a cold Monday morning

In deed, I hate yam eaters who don’t pay

Or who pay skimpingly

I scorn nshima swallowers who don’t stay

These are the Casanovas who need castration

They behave like hit-and-run minibus

Drivers who ply the streets of Lusaka

Or like the Okada and Molue drivers in Lagos

Or like the Matatus in Kampala or Nairobi

They are all the same

They are greedy money prostitutes

They cram the buses to the brim

Disregarding the comfort of commuters

Hey fella, yam and nshima are staple foods

They must be eaten always (24/7)

Fresh and very hot

If you come again and you don’t pay

I will chase you with a fufu pounding

Mortar stick

I will slosh you with a stinking week-old

Urine of mine kept for the purpose,

I will pepper-bomb your eyes with

Alligator pepper

I will hang a bell around your neck

To alert the village womenfolk,

Remember, sex doesn’t come cheap

These days,

Better still, stick to one woman –

One man, one nshima

Multiple sex partners is costly and a


It breeds wahala

Sexmaniacs and serial sexists

Go home to roost

One woman is more than enough for life,

Is that your bona fide wife?

By Kwesi Atta Sakyi

Columnist: Sakyi, Kwesi Atta