The harmatan

You who precede the rebirth of the old year
from the north and east you come
the earth to complete her rotation.
Across the Sahara you are blown
floating until your fall on her coast
full of energy and noise
full of gold and an ugliness
which soon is scattered, all apart.

So eager to be seen everywhere:
particles panting
and for air gasping
in a bid to escape
from the north east trade winds terrifying

passing,
the fertile ground loses its moisture
making
it bitter and sour for
growing
plants and crops when of its juice they taste .

A harrowing experience
oh trees who mourn
each time the winds pass
and leave your elderly at their mercy

oh tress who mourn
while animals thirst for water
when the oases are buried
and wells now shallow
only the sheer force of the air blows
A cattle cry precedes it all,
like a warning to vegetable farmers all,
to be alert of an eminent danger .

Our buildings need no paint
where our eyes fail to appreciate beauty
through the misty and foggy weather
this sense of thirst for paint we lose.

A voice which is never heard by our ears
when our eyes are lashed into tears
by the prevailing winds which have opened
the flood gates for a free flow of the nose
of mucus after hearing eyes, his brother cry.

It is six 'o' clock in the morning
but the night still looks young
and refuses to realize
that his grand children
have already taken over from him
while yet alive.
Men enjoy the night
and would wish the morrow never comes.
They go to work late trusting the weather;
when dark coloured skin becomes clear
and white when without a pomade on the skin.

with sand, our rooms are filled
as they fiercely penetrate our covering
the sieves, unaware like thieves
their passing in the broad day light
and in full glare of the eyes

Fruits ripe quickly
people with single cloth to wear
enter the bath after washing their cloths;
return from their bath,
their cloths already dry to wear.

Lips of the newest couple even suffer
from bleeding and cracking
through constant and accepted abuses,
all from the north east trade winds out there.
This nerve cracking experience
minimized when the sky is blue
finally waves bye; comes the cool night
with less hail and dusty winds.

Leaves are in a hurry to fall
the little brush from the air
both dry and green the fall
great pain from mothers
whose daily bread it is
to sweep off the rubbish
again and again on the street.

Little children cry
and class rooms becomes filled with ghost
because of the mild shocks they fear
within the chilly bathing weather.
Men are seen walking in coats
and at night buried in their blanket
even with their wives in their arms
during these winter nights in Accra.

Their shining cocoa butter lips
a sweet smelling savour give.
The prayer of lovers :
that the winds may last ;
but bachelors their stay regret
in an opportunity that will only rear
its beautiful head once, the whole year
when the dry air kisses all good bye.


By Emperor Leander David
26/03/2010