To My Uncle Tarkwa Atta – A Tribute (17)

By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

Uncle Tee,
I told you
Mister Stupid
was born and
raised right here
in this town –
some goofballs
are actually
roaming our streets,
megaphones
stuck to their porcine lips
and their stinking mouths,
claiming
you are the first
elected king
to have expired
on Antubam’s
chair –
that is quite true,
on the face of it,
but then
how about
our two unelected,
albeit popularly reckoned,
kings who expired
on the same
fart-gilt
Antubam stool
you just vacated
in a paradigm
reshuffle…
were they
chopped liver
or ground beef…
of course
I am talking about
Kotoka and
Akuffo,
the former of whom
was far bitterly
mourned
than yourself;
of course,
I expect you
to remember this
more vividly
than I do,
’cause you were
in your tweens
while a mere
toddler
was I –
Uncle,
I don’t know
if you wouldn’t
feel dissed
by this,
but Kotoka
was the kind
of hero’s hero
you would never
become,
when you reckon
the fact that
you are being
pitied
more than hailed
as a hero…
needless to say,
you are neither
a hero nor
a villain
at all, save
one reckons
as heroic
your mere clinching
of the ballot
on your third
try,
largely
by default,
as a heroic
act…
yes,
Emmanuel Kwasi Awusi
Kotoka was a hero’s
hero,
’cause he kick-boxed
our primal
albatross
and your
tin-god hero
to the curb and
off his buns,
landing him flat
on his face
in Alajo’s
mega drain…
he would condignly
break a jowl,
a set of teeth
and an arm;
he would also learn
a lesson
or two,
somehow;
he would also learn
not to sass up
and filch
the stool-names
and titles of
our heroic sires –
an Osagyefo,
indeed;
and just whose
neck and
ass did he
save, save
his own…
and then he sat
face down
on his butts
a half-dozen years
in Toure’s Guinea
counting cockerels,
Guinea pigs
and
Guinea fowls
and seeing
flashes and
coruscations
across the sky –
you men of
vanity,
you are mere
dust and
ashes,
and that is
our common
track and
route –

8/5/12