For starters, this is not an Irish folktale or how the little man lost his tail. This story is about how I’m in a coffin as I tell the world my story. Most often we look at the world from a particular perspective and we wish it will talk to us or just give us what we want, even if we work or do not work for it. My message is not to show the world how I can write and you can’t. Am sweating, my heart is racing, my mind is not mine at the moment as I wonder if it was worth it or should I say why all this hell? It’s just one man’s blood?
Now, this is the story. Living in my part of the world is fantastic I won’t lie for if I have seen the world in that manner what will I be doing in a coffin at midnight in a strange forest I never knew existed in Ghana. The sweat, the pains of digging for gold and its futility, the lies from the men up there, promising us of a brighter future in exchange for our thumbs. We hurtfully cut it off but for what? Nothing better. But hey! Am not going lose my head over this trivial circumstance or let it cloud my judgment or ruin most of my childhood memories.
I thought of this world as a world without corners, a first-class street with no bumps. I had a rich father a loving mother and a family. My kid brother was my best friend. We did everything together cos I was just two years older. He was my first lookout when I brought my first girlfriend into the house, we nearly got caught. My parents returned with the story that my father had a hunch that the day was bad luck for whatever they were going to do in town. I really can’t forgive them for the blue balls.
Back to the story. Have you ever lost everything just in a day? Your mother, father, your brother and best friend at the same time. But its five years now, so I don’t have to be bitter about it, or I shouldn’t have is what I should have said or done. If I had done the later I think I wouldn’t be in this coffin sweating my heart away. But hey! It happened, my parents and brother were involved in an accident that took everything away from me. You would ask where all the riches went, and I will tell you he wasn’t that rich.
Five years on am still alive my friend are now those guys that I use to ignore when they try to sell me phones which may or may not be in good shape or just a model of the type of phone. They are mostly not phones, let’s not kid ourselves. We chill together, sleep together go on a no bathing strike together, well it’s mostly because we couldn’t afford the public shower house just around the corner. I turned a head potter in the nearby market, helping buyers carry their things from inside the market to the lorry station for a dime. But it was worth the while, at least I didn’t have to deceive people like Kwaku nyame does.
Let me tell you why I am in a coffin. It was Tuesday and not a lot of shoppers so the day was quite slow. We sat under a tree just outside the market facing the street. We were all like is it is so hot in Africa and why are our leaders selfish? But we were just hungry. Toss us a piece of bread and you wouldn’t hear us speak about any person and our country, in particular, I think we just didn’t care. It was me, and am Skye by the way, Kwaku nyame (god) and Yaw kitiwa (small). We spoke about many things and how we could be rich in just seconds which Kwaku nyame brought up. He said he knew this guy who knew a guy who could make us rich. And yes if you are asking it is about black voodoo and yes we agreed to take that path.
Our first visit went well, we just had to offer the dwarf that was vomiting the money we got just some cola nut and a thousand cedi. Getting the money was the problem but we did it. The first year of being rich again was fantastic. We became the talk of the town everyone wanted to be us. We drove around in our corolla S. partying here and there drinking good wine and fine girls if you get what mean.
But after the second year the money stopped coming, the sack was now empty, so we decided to visit the voodoo guy again. We told him what happened and he said that ritual had an expiring date and if we want the one they call the “well never dry” we had to do something. Which was to sleep in a coffin for a whole night. We decided to oblige after all what could go wrong. We visited his place as scheduled. He did some ritual and told us to take off our clothes and lay in the coffin. We did as he instructed but then this happened or should I say this is what he said “ONE OF YOU WILL REST IN THE ARMS OF THE ANCESTORS FOR TO GIVE THEY HAD TO TAKE” followed by a contemptuous laughter which faded with his footsteps.
So here I am wondering if I would be the one to go. While I was at it, this is all that came to mind
“Write the world a song
tell the world where you went wrong.
Tell the world a lie
and watch it die.
Say nothing to the world
and it will hate you the more.
So sing into the world’s ear you trials
Maybe they may listen or blame you
But all the same, you lived.”