Ten Thousand Chant Songs


Ten Thousand Chant Songs

why have we ruined the chant songs
in the stage of our mother’s breasts?
why have we bought rotten kola nuts
when we had just a night to offer libation?

we have stood behind this river for far too long
and the prayers have not been offered! 
we have watched for our fathers’ apparitions
and not even the priest has an idea of their airs.

i, abeiku,
the son of the thirsty hunter
knock with his teeth
asking why the Gods have left us
to this fate of flies

Nana Arhin Tsiwah
© All Rights Reserved, 2016





I have all the time (possibly after countless realisations), found out that Traditional religion and all its parantheses is something worth defining on the offspring of truth. Although, many are the fronts of taunts attributed to the practices of this religion. This shredded and peaking ignoramus outlook of this whole enterprise and its tagging as “barbaric”, “demonic”, an “evil practice” et cetera of all crude tags has not only revealed how paralyzed our society has become. In a country where the media has become just a blunt polluted lips, the results is the daily acts of jokes, derision and mockerism that most of these locally produced movies go on an advocate protuberant. Movie players who depicts superiority of Christianity over Traditionality for me aren’t just acts of damnations but a droned wiped-out brainstorming canterkerous activity. We as a people have become the players of the piper’s tunes. From the total rejections of what holds us spiritually to the taunting of what binds us uniquely has not become just worrisome but a categoriesed illness which would never get a contagium for it heals.

A day never passes by without someone somewhere in his own self-pooling thoughts tag or deem me an outright “atheistic” spurred blue paper. Inasmuch as I would agree with such miscalculated assumed tuberculosis, I would state emphatically that such an assumption is but only a facade of derivative African spiritual lackings. Why would you believe a pure village African like me be an atheist? That I call it “turmoil of carcasses”! In the arena of desperation, neutralisation and equalisation of the Traditional religious practices in Ghana (Africa) by the Churchism fraternity, the results is the deeming of seemingly atheistic African. I have read with keen eyes into countless situations where the likes of many Traditional African propagationists on social media and outside of this hoodom are reckoned as that. Is it not very damming to loose control of what has held a peoples’ conscience to mere surprise because dynamism is a spectacled notion?


The mentality of we Africans towards Traditional religion is heartbreaking, tear waddling in the ductile and disease affliction. I am not in anyways justifying that the Christian world has nothing good but my juxtapositional arrest stems from the fact that we have lost sight of our core foundation as a people. We have outrightly and unreligiously implanted in our mental argumentum evil echoes for our Traditional practices. We are faced with true reality that it is an evil utopia that must not be entertained at all. Thus, a culmination into not reading and researching to find out the truth of the keel over syndrome. All our beliefs of what Traditional religion means is one upheld justified “illsome” illusory garment worn by the Church’s dogma or media’s taxonomic showcase. We hear on radios, read in electronic and print media and watch television programmes of pastoral cohorts back-lashing hard on Traditional practices as if they have even the basic knowledge when it comes to its relevance to our birth. This canal of washing our ignorance in the public is not only a displayed suffering headache but a helpless anxiety warfare that the younger generation have been exposed to. You might be learned in theology and obtained all the needed ingredients in theological euphemism; you might be a university acquired Masters, PhD holder or even Professor but your mere prejudice of Traditional practices and its variations would make you “deep-guttered” ignorant about its realities and the extent to which its content has been exposed to distortions and malices.

A lot of people (Christians) go to the extent of muddling witchcraftism and its associated practices to Traditional practices. That for me is an extreme form of unfortunate incidentality! Witchcraftism and all its relatives are not a wholistic horizon make up. Even the concept of such practice is an aberration to Traditionality. Some of these basics would even expose one to folly. It runs from all facets, all drummings— the exorcism to calling grandparents gods and witches are the course of your problems? The very mentioning of Onyankopon, Nyame, Twedeampon, Oludumare, Mawu èt al in African Christian churches and songs is such christening ignorancy. And the situation where a justification could be made to say, “its in our local language” is de-crying enough! Nyankopon, Onyame (Nyame), Twedeampon, Oludumare, Mawu ét al are not the symbolic meaning for “God”. Do all the research works in the world and you would realise how such pronouncements are deemed not the “white-God” or the “God in the bible” even by the whiteman themselves. Abosom(gods), and Abosomwaa(goddesses) are the direct spiritual ascendancy of Onyame (the wise spider). So where you go on calling for the discarding and facing-out of Traditional religion and practices whiles on the other hand you lift your voice like a trumpet shouting “Onyame eeh”! “Twedeampon eeh”!! in a church is just unfortunate and ridiculous. That is why the whole universal corn-mill is locked up in a dire hypocrisy!


I have had many verbal confrontations with people who said I needed to receive salvation and become a Christian. Initially, I used to try playing by the papers of conscience and reasoning, but I realised its just one decadence which has eaten almost everyone up. The mere mentioning of “gods, shrine, okomfo(priest)” in a conversation puts you in the shoes of the mythological humidity surrounding satan. The painful aspect of it all is that such people would not even be pitied to find out your assertion of why you are already saved. I have seen how this branded mental diarrhoea has surged on a seize to dilapidating the mental faculties of the African. Where there are clear evidences of rots and ills in the Christian world, these brutal hooligans would never admit but keep on heaping theoretical theologic vexatious letters of the apostles from right-center-left. If we could have made it more appellative enough for us to tag no more our Traditional practices with the catchy malicious phrase “outmoded practices”, more people would have been saved from the tolling death from this disease. The mere mentioning of “outmoded practices” puts one in a shadow-box of not finding a cure to his(‘er) abhoric ailment. As long as we stay glued to this episode and epistle(logical) framework of the whiteman’s cultural heritage, this disease filed in our mental faculties shall never be cured…

Written By; 
Nana Arhin Tsiwah
(The Village Thinker)

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Leap of Will


Papa is dead now!
    Ebusuapayin Mintah is in rush….
the funeral is yet to roll—
with burial rites already gone home:
     the extended family members searching;
for the will from his drawer…

    Papa is insolvent!!
the bank barks from behind closed door;
the will is ours now…
   all drowned by silence;
looking to Mama in the face,
   but, please, can you reflect it according to PNDC Law—
finally faces all shrunken to innocence.

The Village Thinker © 2014

Note: In Akan local Fante dialect in Ghana,  “Ebusuapayin” means “head of an external family”. The “Ebusuapayin” is responsible for the external affairs of the family from which he heads.




This is our world
The purchase of history with coins
The marriage of nudity with our pride
This is our world
The purchase of slavery with nothing
Quite a world of sane alluring analogy of insanity

Seasonal arrest of sensational address
The oblivious obligations
Sending the grave of darkness with bye-bye
Quite a world of lame
Piled with insanity for centuries
The black boy looks at the white world
Desiring it pleasure
An infiltration of a sane mind from the gods

Feeding thee mind of the times running
The one word simply shaming us
Where our ignorance is bleached to the line
Where is the sting which reminds the core of our brain?
I look up to the dryness of their lips
Mine drying like theirs
With just one thing beating my core
Just the one I wish could stand tall
Outshine and bring the gentleman-like us
The one-word-on-one
The African fashioned in the blood of Africa

The Village Thinker © 2014


Tunel Of Tamed Minds

Tunnel of tamed minds


Traditions torn apart on simple terms
Of something they claim is scientific
Weaving theories of fiction
And colliding our thoughts into collapse of
Of a physics washing ours as superstition
Paring and plying mind theme into
A world where theirs is only true and pure
Whilst ours is felt on the tongue of oral traditions
They claim that is futile, and useless
Unless it is proven in what they are hypothesized as theories.

Ashes burn into sour taste
Bitter lessons all written on the scrolls of our tamed minds
Whirls steming us to calling ours demonic and doom
But what is so true and pure
About invention when innocent souls
Are killed on death traps and lethals?

They claim our proportion is measured on more fiction
And traits blown on mere cynicism
But what of the adages of our heritage
Which brews of a clue they are not conscious of?
The bitter lie they’ve made us to believe
Heaping our thoughts into thin lines
Of wireless-cordless summation of encaged winks.

Streching into a daymare leakage
Are beliefs that our customs
Values, traditions and traits
Are sampled on a singular word
And we are made to believe
That to adhere to traditions is ‘stupidity’
In the eyes of a single book blow out of proportion
Pollution all fuming our minds
Brain washed into nothingness
Of a colour which is even a curse
Thus the pride in bleach and be fair.

Shame still ampling on the cords of this mindset
But there is one myth well to drink from
And one sign bliss enough to read from
The more gullible we appear
The more proud and supreme they find in themselves
Spirituality in the pouring of libation
Thrash to it rough shadows by
What the minds of our men and women
Have being enslaved into, syndrome christianity
Calling the aprons of Afrikanity as barbaric
To a hiding decantation of mirrage
For a kingdom which hangs in the sky of blind deceit.

The Village Thinker © 2014

Tunes of African Proverbs

~~¶¶Tunes of African Proverbs¶¶~~


“Think not ye that ye can add water to dilute the blood of a human as that of a tortise”

“No matter the length of a lizard, it can never be an aligator”

“If you think you are clever, don’t trycheating Kwaku Ananse (Spider)”

“A sailor knows not the sea than the fish that lives in it”

“A tree of wisdom is never determined by it hairy roots”

“The chicken can play with the hawk, but they can never be friends”

“The venom of an arrow is best understood by the animal it strikes”

“It is only the sky that understands the language of the thunder”

“The vapour can fly in the sky, but it can never be as powerful as the aroma”

“It is not long ears that the gods want, but ears of unseen hearing”

“The lizard nods to the earth, yet it can’t speak to the pains the belly receives from the earth”

“The taste of kola is not seen in it colour”

The Village Thinker © 2014

From the tongue of the gods

From the tongue of the gods


I hold in my hands
A calabash filled with palm wine to the gods
And kola to share with the ancestors
And a thin air of love affairs
With the goddesses of this land
Which brews in itself
A defined taste on the tongue of
Traditions, values, culture
And reminding heritage.

I blow the flute from afar
To marry the hearts of the spirits
I blow the flute from afar
To sing sweet melodies to thy ears
I blow the flute from afar
To seduce your emotions into adages
I blow the flute from afar
To quench your throat of it thirst
I blow the flute from afar
To tell you in whispers what is happening in the ancestral world
I blow the flute from afar
To beat your drums of thy ears of our traditions.

The gods spoke to me in my dream
They salute your souls
They wish for your ears
To listen to the sagacious teachings in oral traditions
The gods gave me a word in my dream
They said this land needs a cure
A cure from the rot of this genetation
From a rot which has it head in the taste of modernity
The gods whistled to me my dream
They said they need your hearts
Hearts to turn things for the right.

The big ‘oyina’ riddles to me
The proverbs hanging leafless on it branches
Speaks volume of our time
The songs of incantation bracing it stems
The lyrics of traditions anchoring it roots
The showers of the dews pampering it growth
Are the ribbons saluting our ancestors
Telling wise tales from the silent land
Where the gods of this land
Sit to look at us in their beating chest
Of why we are neglecting the very things
Which holds and unites us as a people
Of the ‘Crown Royal’ Africa.

The Village Thinker © 2014