Listen to music while browsing

To My Uncle Tarkwa Atta – A Tribute (6)

Wofa Panyin,

you cut such

a traffic figure

in the realm

of human rights,

you must be wondering

why all these foreign

diplomats

are crawling

and vaulting

over one another,

claiming

your rights record

was all spic

and span –

maybe

these debonair

poets and

market-square

praise-singers

have been living

on a planet

yet to be known

and named…

and,

of course,

it is all too clear

by their mien,

skin tones,

hair textures,

accents and tongues

that they belong

to strange lands

and nations

beyond and across

the far-flung waves

of the ocean-sea…

for in Tripoli,

you were completely

AWOL,

and in Darfur,

indefinitely

out of town,

though you never

turned down

a single invite

to carouse

in Sirte,

Benghazi

and Khartoum…

and on those AWOL days,

Uncle Tee,

I must confess,

you put a heck

of us rights

advocates

to shame

and beyond;

on those AWOL days,

I felt so deeply

ashamed I nearly

disowned

my kinship

and nationality

with you –

Togbui Avaklasu

was no better,

of course,

militant bluster

and all;

yes,

Fiaga Avaklasu

was far worse

than your wildest

imagination,

far worse

than you ever

could have been –

for legend has it,

even as bombs

and scud-missiles

dropped on Tripoli,

in the palatial

courtyard of

the Rat-of-Sirte,

Fiaga Avaklasu,

hat in hand

and crotch,

was darn

too busy

collecting

and cleaning

bloodied silver pieces

of dinars

to give

a hoot…

ironically though,

today

he smugly roams

the streets of

Mogadishu

claiming to be

the new messiah

of peace

and joy,

foolishly claiming

had you heeded

his call

to round up,

cage up

your clansmen

and women,

cuff up

the Kufuor gang

and parade it

up and down

the broad streets

of Accra,

he generously

would have added

seven months

to your membership

in our clan –

on the latter count,

though,

Uncle Tee,

you have only

yourself

to blame;

for as the gray ones

are wont to say,

if nothing had stepped

on tinder-wood,

it wouldn't

have scrunched…

in short,

my beloved

Uncle Tee,

you made

your cozy bed

with a murderous

barbarian,

and so today

your public image

is tainted

and spattered

with blood…

still,

you are

the perfect

mirage,

readily mistaken

for a pond

by the naïve

and

untutored –

7/27/12

Disclaimer: "The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Modern Ghana. The contents of this article are of sole responsibility of the author(s). Modern Ghana will not be responsible or liable for any inaccurate or incorrect statements contained in this article." © Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr., Ph.D..