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 The poisons in the pot (Pt. 2)

 Umofians, wake up! There is fire on the mountain ooo! Umofians, wake up! Wake up! Wake up and open your ears wide. Listen up! Today, the tale-bearer is not here to play at all!

They say when the roof is on fire, even the lazy man will fetch water. Eii! Eii! Eii! I did not come here to joke ooo! Open your ears and listen well! When the drumbeat changes, even the dancer’s waist must shake differently!

What’s that rumbling in the skies above the great baobab tree? 62 mil­lion?? Eii? Eii! 81,000 ghosts feasting, chopping our money “nyafu nyafu” like a buffet for the invisible! Eii!

No bodies, no addresses, but their bank accounts dey flex! 62 million cedis puff! Vanished like Ghana jollof at a funeral. Meanwhile, the average Umofian is out here fighting over one ball of kenkey ooo!

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Ahhh, it hurts me ooo! Schoolchil­dren less than 15 years are carrying their siblings on their backs like mini- Uber services, balancing on rotten planks just to cross streams to get to school. Classrooms have no chairs, but ghosts are out here living large on imported sofas at home. Hospitals have no medicine yet ghost workers? Ah! Their health insurance is work­ing overtime! And the roads? Even donkeys are applying for chiropractic treatment! Asaase Yaa, your children are Indeed suffering.

You see, our elders say that a man who steals a drum must be ready for people to dance to his shame! Ahh!

But what do we see in Umofia land today? Instead of the Ghost Associ­ation of Umofia sweating over the scandals shaking in their shadows like faulty trotros, they are busy hunting down the town rooster forgetting that “he who crows at dawn is not the one who stole the sun”! Imagine ooo! The house is on fire, yet they are chasing the person who shouted, “Fire!” The impudence of a dying cockroach.

Umofians, this is not the time to sleep! The pot is poisoned, and the feast of the ghosts is devouring the future. If you do not rise now, what will you tell your children? That you stood by and watched while ghosts feasted on their tomorrow? Eii! Eii! Eii! Umofians open our eyes, stand together, and demand accountability. The drumbeat has changed, and it is time to dance differently!

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Eii, do I hear $500,000 in the winds? Hmmm, the winds are howl­ing, and as the elders say, “When the elephants stumble, it’s the grass that pays the price ooo. But the elephants are not stumbling in struggle, no! They are feasting on the land while the grass is left with nothing but dust and empty promises.”

Can we now lean on the umbrella for shade? Ah well! Such is the game of the powerful in Umofia land. But remember ooo, one day the gavels of justice will spin.

Until next time!

 With Eyram,

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