REVIEW: Why we need more 'Abanga' in Ghana

The first time I watched Season 01 Episode 01 of “ABANGA – THE NEW GUY” dubbed “German burgar wahala” I was very impressed about it. I actually saved the video to watch it later in order to write a review on it. This movie /short film basically mirrors the kind of society we live in – Ghana is soaked in filth (if I am not exaggerating) and no one seems to care. We often preach cleanliness is next to godliness and practice its very opposite.  

On June 3^rd 2015, Ghana suffered a calamity which saw the death of over 100 people with just an explosion. One of the cause of the disaster, which was later known, was said to be the choked gutters in Accra. Our gutters especially in those the urban areas are chocked generally polythene and plastic products. In Ghana, gutters often serve as a rubbish dump which shouldn’t be so. The June 3^rd disaster opened our eyes to the hard truth that we need to change our attitude about how we disposed off waste. So in my view, this movie series ‘ABANGA – THE NEW GUY’ came in at the right moment.

The movie commences with the titular character, Abanga picking up pieces of waste left by some undisclosed people. Abanga stops after sometime and remarks ‘Enti me mia Ghana paa nie’ (translation: is this really my country Ghana). After doing his bid to get rid of filth, he goes to the main street only to see a German burgar throw an empty bottle to the bush from his private car. Abanga then confronts him and he later begs and promises to pick the bottle he threw away never to repeat the same mistake again.  

The synopsis of this movie is just what is happening in the country, the only difference is that we don’t have any Abanga (or very few Abanga to be ignored). It is highly convenient for someone to buy water from street hawkers and throw the sachet away on the street when one is done with it. We, Ghanaians are responsible for the flirt in our country.

I remember the last time I sat in a car with someone and he did exactly what the German burgar did and when I asked him why he did that, he replied me angrily ‘But isn’t it why I pay tax? The government must use my taxes to clean my filth.’ I was very sad because no matter how hard I tried, this man refused to listen to the voice of reason.  The sad aspect of it all is that he is only one in over twenty million examples we have in this country. To solve this canker, it is imperative that we change this kind of mentality that makes us throw rubbish around. What most people fail to realize is that most politicians live in highly neat and high class residential areas/facilities and we the normal Ghanaians are the ones who will bear the brunt of any effect of the indiscriminate throwing of rubbish. If we are to use all our taxes to clear the flit we make, what money will hence be left for development?

Further, we all know about the impact of movies on our mind. I believe we need more of ‘Abanga’ movies than ‘atopa shaking movies’, ‘sex movies’ and ‘unnecessary farce’ to educate the Ghanaian about the importance of keeping our environment clean.

To end, I believe strongly that if we don’t keep our environment clean, no politician will do it for us. Our environment is ours and if we destroy Ghana with flit, we will have nowhere else to go than to become slaves in other people’s countries.

 

Read More

Volcano (Earth Quake)

 

The night always sing a dirge

While the wind plays the harpsichordist

Stroking lower baritones

To its own delight.

There is more;

The silent nights dance like heathen in the forest

But in all these bizarre nights

I stand and look.

 

There are nights

When I just want to pretend to be mad

Yet this idea seems too expensive to buy.

 

There are also nights

When tears leave me

And in grief there seem no replacement.

It is during these nights that

It becomes more apparent

That water and tears are different

Even when they share the same volume.

 

There are nights

When I feel the world is so surreal

That I rather am too practical

Even to a ghost!

During these nights,

I can walk through walls and tease the ghosts that haunts me

Because I know he can’t penetrate through these walls.

 

There are nights,

When there are not enough letters of the alphabets

To describe the pains in the sinking soul

These are the nights when

My worry is big enough to make the earth quake.

These nights, when my touch can cause a volcano.

 

 

 

Read More

Volcano

 

 

The ground splits.

The air turns caustic;

With every air breathed

Dressed like a poisonous love.

 

All I hear are screaming

And all I see is people dying

Flashing lights

With the skies falling on me.

 

There I remembered

The book of Revelations

And how the old saint said

God was going to take his people away.

 

Sure I am no saint

For I have built my life of deceit

In the eyes of the world

Now it has shut them

Leaving me with nowhere else to look up to

What therefore I am

Is a mere hypocrite

Whose smiles are drenched in lethal roses.

 

But who do I run to

As the earth quakes

With people screaming for help?

 

I look at this moment

Like a kaleidoscope of memories

Swimming through the ocean

Like a leaked venom ready

To strike dead all fishes in the waters.

 

Opulence was the goal

But what shall it therefore profit

A man if he loses his soul

While chasing shadows of ghost?

 

Catharsis!

This is when you get drowned in your volcanic lies

With its molten magma burning you to death

With no hand to lift you up.

 

Read More

Wine

 

Love is like a glass of wine

From the day your lips touch her lid

She strums your heart in delight

And you can't help but dance to her tune.

 

For in the dead of the night

Your senses die

Like you were born into a closed coffin

And when heartbreak comes to open the coffin,

To show you the realities of life,

Your whole world seems like

A funeral of your own

 

But cry not

The whole world is dazed with love's spell.

For every branch you touch,

Every leaf  that tickles your neck,

 

Makes love's noise,

Like that one that drizzles on you

 

The first time you drank love's wine.

Read More

Sophomore~!

 

The third time we played
Our broken record on the velvet table turner,
We tapdanced on the pale moonlight
And listened to our sultry voices melt beautiful memories into uncontrollable tears.
You held your hands on mine
As I plucked a flower from the woods
And threw it to the skies
Just to remind ourselves that
Like the midnight stars,
We were going to shine forever.

 

 

When we descended down the mountain
That was the last time
We heard our discordant melody.
You struck me like thunder
And before I could catch my breath
You were gone.

 

 

And so the rains came
And washed our record ashore.
The memories of you were all that I had in mind.
And when time passed,
As I sat on the beach thinking about you,
The rose we threw into the sky.
Landed on my head.
That was when I saw you again
Coming down like a warrior on a chariot to claim his lost victory.
We looked at each other
And every key and note
Came rushing back like a volcano.
So did our lost song.

                                                                                         

 

                                                                                     Inspired by Eden Akwasi King's Sophomore
Download the PDF for here, click http://ghana-insider.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/JYF-Sophomore.pdf

Read More

The Vulture 1.0

This poet has always been thrown into fascination about Edgar Allan Poe's "The raven"



His interest lied on the dark skulls of how each word burnt his skin and how every punctuation mark kissed his soul with joy.
He believed that, that poem was perfection and a stream of hope to which inspiration sprung from. But;
Be always not happy about what you take delight in reading since one day, you may end up being the lead character.
To which one day he became that it threw him to the rooms of madness that for a long time he was unable to talk about it.
When everyone gathered around and asked him why, he said to them.


"There is no use in telling you of a bird -- of a vulture -- with whom there is never a sigh of peace."
So horrific that he could only put it in writing.


Now this is his story;
It was nameless;
it flew and circled him with skin so pale and close to death, it stood on his head.
There, he remembered a line from the raven "Dreaming dreams no mortal has ever dreamed before."
And so he did, trying to assure himself that this bird -- this vulture -- will flap its wings and begone when he claps.

But nevermore, it didn't, it seemed fearless and was destined to pursue an action he had no idea of.
And so he stood still "Dreaming dreams no mortal has ever dreamt before."
He pushed the bird -- the vulture -- off his head but it came again like the dark clouds and stood on his head like it had done before.
Having read "The Raven" he knew it would be useless trying to have a conversation with a bird who now seemed a fiend.

With every step he took, this bird looked down at him as if he was a thing of amusement.

But this poet was no fool and he knew that he would wake up from this dream and this bird will be left in dreamland, only to be seen nevermore.
But after circling his room, the vulture started a conversation with him.


"Ratadame, would you not ask me why I am here?"


The bird speaks!
Clearly this could not be mistaken!


But he, destined not to speak ignored this bird and tried to take a seat on his chair of heartbreak.


Now, this chair as he had loved always reminded him of life, love, lust... And of how his hopes of flying like a bird without a cage had been broken like his heart.
Hence its name "Chair of Heartbreak" was apt.


But this bird, so it seems, knowing more than he did retort,
"Would you still not ask me any question?"
Then he grew angrier and shouted.



"Begone! You master of evil!"
 But this vulture stood and laughed, mocking him and reducing him to shame; still he would not stand to be intimidated by a bird.
"Ratadame, would you ask me of where I came from?"


Still awkward silence! With his talons, he hit it on the head so hard.


"You infernal creature, what do you want?"


"I want to tell you of my story" he replied "Would you listen?"
Awkward silence yet again .



TO BE CONTINUED

Read More

Boy for you

 

I am a dreamer

Who dreams of

Filling your heart with countless pearls

 

I am that dreamer

Who sees you in mind

The very moment he closes his eyes.

 

I am that dreamer

That ends up being the boy for you

 

I am that seductive touch

Your thighs give in so I to give it to you .

 

I am those arms that you will wake up in 

From this fantasy dream you are currently having.

 

I am he who will take you there.

 

I am that magician

That has the magic wand

To take you to all the wonders of the world

 With his touch .

I have that warmth

That will leave your heart beating arrhythmically

I am that boy

Who wants to give it to you so bad, so bad.

 

I am that singer

That can sing all the beautiful chords

In your heart a

So that you can sleep with glee.

 

I am that writer

That can write grey in all fifty shades on your tender lips

And decorated your face with smiles as you relive those moments in mind.

 Leaving the world

In Wonder .

 

I am that model

That will wear all those crazy clothes

Just to look good for you.

Read More

Gravitas! (For fathers)

Like the seasons, my days with my father have been

 

Like Harmattan -- dried by the cold and harsh winds

 Like the rainy seasons -- warm and growing all hopes I have dreamed of.

 

But there is more:

There were times when my heart were just like a molten magma;
There were times when I broke his heart
And he would smile and fix it back together.

There were times when all my emotions were like a blank sheet
And I would wait for him to come home early enough
To write on it the letters of the alphabet.

But all in these, he would take a pen
And draw on my heart
Something more than ABC,
He drew on it love, confidence and how to be a man.

 

 He always said to me in the darkest night,

"There are days and there are nights
The world has never been fair
And sometimes, there seems no light
Because there is no tunnel
But a wicked world with no lights;

Look up into the skies and note that
There is always a moon which shines
Not so bright but enough to keep the monsters away"

Yet again, I never understood
Because those were the times
When my heart was just volcanic,
When I failed to see
That every wrong step I took
Caused a tear in his eyes
And he wouldn't cry it off
Because the society says
"We should be men".

 

 And he took me by the hand
And said
"Hey boy, one day, you're going to thank me"

Now I remember those moments
And understand that those actions were wrong.
I was young, wild and free
And I only danced round in circles with folly.
But when the music died down
And I was about to fall
He was there to catch me.

 

 

Gravitas! That's what it has always been.
And that is how he wanted me to look.

 

 

 

DEDICATED TO EDGAR ALLAN POE

Read More