when the pipe got broken by the car tyre.
And the poor citizens were like,
“for how long shall this continue”?
And you prayed in the temple at the dusk of dawn,
with thought so heavy that
they swayed your mind into the night’s eyes
Is this not the city of Guggisberg,
That gold, bauxite, manganese are stored in her soil?
And oh, with 100000 million barrels of oil extracted everyday?
From Efiekuma, to Tanokrom,
And Kwesimintim to Apremdo,
They call ours the west,
far from the thought of Pan-Africanist meaning.
We are here!
On under one roof—
and bidden by one spirit.
On one tale of ironical harmonic—
Twins of molecular identity.
The Village Thinker © 2014.
This is a poem about getting to hold the soft, hard, beautiful, natural endowment and surprisingly lifestyle of Takoradi, a city in the western part of Ghana.