Treasure Island

Kweku Atta Crayon

(17th October,1990 / Prestea-Western Region of Ghana)

A Direction To Nana


We are still here
Your voice we hankering to hear
Mum said we no more pray you
Must you keep drinking schnapps to rue?
Nana, things have changed ooo
The huts have lost their security
we not even safe in these heavy stones (blocks)
Where you left us, is now called the village
and nothing good gets down there
We too wanted to eat electricity, pipeborne water and good healthcare
Nana, next time when visiting,
Go to Asomdwe park, see ghost Atta Mills
He recently left, he must show you Accra

Nana, you will see this white house
When you hear a quarrel, good then you home
When you hear big English, it is that of the mayor
You will see a woman with a wrinkled face
Clearly defining poverty and hardship
You will see food served on the floor to be picked
Nana, then be sure you are home.
When you see a long convoy
dancing in wailing sirens
And lights all over
Nana wave too, is the president passing
Nana, look left, right and left again
To check that you safe
Before you enter, today we are followed.
Boys now kidnap everybody including ghosts too.
WELCOME HOME NANA.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 05, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Do the spirits of our ancestors still hear our cries? Do they understand English? Do they have Facebook accounts or blogger? Have we lost the connection with the very people whose blood flow through us? Do they know that we walk on bituminous asphaltic roads and fly in the air like witches did in their time?
Sometimes I get a sentiment that our ancestors visit the land and they don’t seem to discover their root and their own blood children. They get lost in the walls, supermarkets and the busy streets. They go back to the grave and sleep again in total astonishment. Me, I want to see my grand mum again so I have written her a letter of direction.

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