It’s 5 am…





It takes about 5 seconds for my eyes to adjust
My ears have adjusted already
They lead the way at this time, most times really
My blocked nostril tears up
Begging me to shut up the annoying mechanical whining
of the fan in the corner of my small room
As if on cue nature’s breeze gently pushes my curtains aside
It’s her shift now…to keep me cool
She invites herself in, a bit too sharply
So I protect my chest with my breastplate – my sleeping cloth
Then I hear the first reminders of why my ears always take the lead
The muezzin’s call to prayer rings in the distance
As the Methodist evangelist says the closing prayer to end his broadcast
I remind myself to read my Bible later
and not to just forward devotional messages via text to others
Then I hear the annoying but familiar wailing
of my village’s public address system
The people seem to think they have progressed, because of a p.a. system
Because there are no more gong-gongs
That man with the funny walk and scattered grey patches
sitting casually atop his head
He will never beat the dawuro again
Maybe we have progressed

“Lend me your ears as I mention to you these aduonu-nan diseases…
Let me tell you why my herbs can cure all of them…
It’s not magic, Otwedeampon gave me this gift when I was young.
He has instructed us to eat the fruits and heal with the leaves
I have the gift of knowing which leaves are right for healing which diseases…
AIDS and gonorrhoea and cholera and malaria too…”
One herbalist after another will campaign for the vote of the people’s money
for the next full hour
And my quick and tortured ears will have to endure the endless chatter
I wonder if they have anything to cure the people’s apathy
and the lies the politicians are plagued with telling
I wonder if they can mend broken dreams and shattered hopes
I wonder if they can cure death these days…
there have been too many funerals lately
I wonder…

It’s 5 am…


Published by: Akyempo

i met the Priest...i realised that though society seems to respect the baker and despise the shepherd, the baker is not happy despite his stability and the shepherd is free to pursue the pyramids, because he is a dreamer; and one day he will meet Fatima. I am the boy; the shepherd.


12 thoughts on “It’s 5 am…”

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