Nightmares of Africa keeps haunting me in my sleep. The need to write, the urge to tell, the reason to share, the passion to let others know and the purpose to whistle to others what pertains to my worries, anxieties, depressions, mental lavaric pourings and conscience vigorousness about Africa, West Africa, Ghana, life, Society, Empowerment and Poetry sets me in continually motion of dilemma.
The desire to see the people of the Africa land appreciate their very own presence in their land, their divinely ordained culture, their uniquely virtues, their traditionally enshrined customary morality guage markings and the desire to see a people of the Black race appreciate their histories and historical synclines and anticlines are my very simple sword I use in day dreams.
I am deeply rooted, a typical African, a Ghanaian of raw state, uncooked, uncorked to certainty and purely a “village thinker”.
Simply call me the “villager thinker” reasoning deep from the Afrikan palm wine wisdom gourd.
My name is embeded in the horisons of a Ghanaianism appeal, no Europeanism attachè.
I am NANA ARHIN TSIWAH.
Blowing the flute of African conscience and conscious sounds…