By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.
Uncle,
I think Jato-Patapaa
has lost it,
completely,
or he is in the Scottish State
of Epiphany…
I am not
ruling out
the sobering
after-effects
of the Mary-Jane
he is so widely known
to toque,
the coke-laced
Cuban cigars
he so recklessly
draws and puffs
around
the clock;
see, see,
Uncle Tee,
this is what
he wrote
in the book
of tears
created to trap
memories of you
in frozen
ice-cream
words:
“Fare thee well,
Prof.:
Let’s hope
to do better
at keeping
the greedy
[Ahwoi] bastards
at bay…
Help to provide
Chief Shit-Bomber
whatever guidance
you can offer
from wherever
you are,
since you are now
free…
Sogakope, July 27, 2012.”
Ps: Prof.,
I am so ashamed
of myself,
I just presented
Nana Konadu
her divorce papers…
and in a version
of the same tribute
on a clansman’s website,
a visitor has tersely
observed:
“This shows,
after all,
that Jato-Patapaa
believes in
the afterlife.”
Maybe he does,
maybe he doesn’t –
if he does,
dear countryman,
he is not telling,
though not believing
in the hereafter
seems more like
Jato-Patapaa….
Anyway,
I don’t know that
there is a common
Ghanaian mode
of mourning
our dead,
seeing some
Umbrella Clansmen
crawl over
one another
as well as
claw
at each other
for a piece
of the meat
of the elephant
which you have
just slaughtered
for your
funereal
feast…
my apologies,
Uncle Ayi Kwei…
7/30/12
