TALES OF MY TOWN

TALES OF MY TOWN
We are all distant relatives
A blood lineage intertwines our destinies.
It was peace and harmony.
We were many brothers of the same parents.
We ate from God’s mercies.
And shared the happiness.
Till the beast came to my town and made it its own.
Tearing us apart, dividing our ties, Veiling our vision.
Enmity poisoned the faith that spread through our veins.
Hatred conquered our minds.
And the love that ever lived now lingered in scarcity.
We forgot our roots; that we all came from the same womb.


Blood spilled, gliding on the ground like rainwater.
Unity was broken into sects.
One was broken into many.
So our relations became weaker and weaker.
Hypocrites were seen at sanctuaries and also at the war zone
Dressing every place with the sin in their bullets.
That traveled and sought refuge in men’s flesh.
The police sirens always reminded us of our plight;
The devil was smiling; Sons of Adam took lives they could never create.
Mothers felt most of the pain, they shed Niagara Falls
But how did the crying avail them?
They were becoming widows, their husbands where now sleeping in coffins
and their children were becoming orphans.
They were women becoming the men of the house


I wonder how God felt.
Emotions grew wilder and the tears overflew banks.
I paid the price; stigma followed me everywhere I went.
Fathers said they never had money for books.
But bank cheques from the same hand were issued for rifles.
Now we had many warriors but few disciples.
Schools were closed, its gates wailed for justice.
Prisons got flooded, its gates begged for relief.
So did the morgues and the graves.
Children suffered the consequences, marooned in ignorance.
Hysteria and trauma harassed their feeble emotions.
The cold memories wouldn’t leave their minds.
A ravenous virus that might decide their future.
A bright one to be ruined by the slide shows of pain, gore and massacre.

Today, let’s look into each others' eyes.
And tell whether we do not resemble.
And tell whether we do not emerge from the same tree.
What are we fighting for?
What are we dying for?
What legacies are we leaving behind for a generation?
What if we held hands and help hoist the flag?
What if we killed the selfish desire and let harmony live?
Bury our differences and resurrect our rich history of brotherliness.

Dedication: To all who have witnessed the full rigors and pain of war. Personally, to my brothers and sisters in Tamale, Yendi and Bawku.

Inspiration: “ O mankind, we created you from a single (pair) of male and female, and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other (not ye may despise (each other))…” Qur’an 49:13.