raphaeltakyi

TO BE ANNOUNCED

I’m jumping ropes
To heal from things I can’t discuss
It’s a lonely thought
Makes me feel the night’s silence
It takes me to the sun’s core

I’m skipping scenes
To forget this life I live
It’s but a cocktail
A mixture of love and hate
A blend of hate and love

I’m turning tides
Sailing towards the burning bush
It’s as cold as ice, burns like fire
Makes me sweat the winter’s wind
And chill under the summer’s shade

I’m sinking with the titanic
With memories never to see the shore
Find me in the Bermuda
Where I find rest eternally
Or make me just a memory, whichever you would

The things we said that we didn’t mean
The things we meant that we didn’t say
Are but battles won, and wars lost
We shall sing their dirges
We shall dance to their melodies

Image credit: Google images

THE DEBT-TRAP DIPLOMACY; AND THE NEED TO PUSH FOR A UNITED AFRICA

Mr. President, Before I start, let’s look at the statistics.

With over $1 billion dollars in dept to China, Sri Lanka handed over the Hambantota port to companies owned by the Chinese government.
New Djibouti, home to the US military’s main base in Africa, looks to cede control of the Doraleh Container Terminal to a Beijing-linked company; something the US is not happy about.
Seven other countries; Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Lao, the Maldives, Mongolia, Pakistan, Montenegro suffer similar fate
Over 70% of Kenya’s external bilateral debt is owed to China, and in danger of losing its busy port of Mombasa
Senegal’s highway from Dakar to Touba, it’s second city, and part of an industrial park in Diamniadio, as well as other projects is being financed partially by the Chinese up to a tune of about $1.6 billion
Chinese contractors have been dominating road construction projects in Uganda

The list goes on and on. And to be frank, I do not give a damn about what the IMF, US or Europe think about the threat China poses on getting so much power in Africa and other places. The IMF, US and Europe have had their own share of power struggle in Africa when excessive loans from them to African countries in the 80’s and 90’s resulted in a lot of countries declaring HIPC. I cannot overemphasize the horrors of colonialism which was spearheaded by these countries who seem to care now about China’s rise to dominance in emerging countries.

What I care about is what Africa needs. What I care about is what Africa wants. What I care about is what Africa has to do to be independent and rely on its own natural and human resource, to forge a greater continent that very few can fathom. On Kwame Nkrumah’s declaration of independence, he made it clear that the independence of Ghana was meaningless unless it was linked to the total liberation of Africa. Over 60 years, Africa is nowhere near liberation and I fear Africa will never be liberated.

The president of the Republic of Ghana, on his recent trip to the three Northern Regions announced the process of securing a $2 billion loan from who else, but China, to tackle the country’s road infrastructure deficit. The fact is, he will not be there when the ripple effect come. You and I may probably not be there too. But what kind of humans are we if we do not care about posterity.

Numerous loans have been taken for various projects in Ghana that never saw the light of day. For decades, the busiest road in Ghana (Accra-Kumasi) is near starting than finishing. It is so evident that most, if not all of our leaders are concerned with making themselves rich than making Ghana great. They only disagree in public to agree to sharing public funds. Enough is enough.

Africa is self-sufficient, Ghana is also. We should be concerned with forming a common nation, sharing ideas and resources. That’s the only way to make Africa great. No one African nation is an island on its own. The time is now more than ever for us to unite.

25

Sing to me, a new melody
Of things past, and to come
Of silver spent, and hearts mended
Tell me of roads not travelled
And seas uncharted
That we may get lost in time
And find ourselves in space

Sing to me, an old dirge
Of memories made, and those regretted
Of lost love, and broken hearts
Tell me of paths trodden
And the night of tears
That we may drown in those
And float in joy

Sing to me, a lullaby
Of silent nights, and gory ones
Of shooting stars, and forgotten wishes
Tell me of the hands you’ve felt
And the whispers you’ve heard
That we may plead with the gods
And become like them

Sing to me, whatever you so wish
The tears of the sea, the beams of the sun
Sing to me the cries of the night
Make the heart beat, and un-beat
Make the veins surge and un-surge
And when sleep calls
We will wake like the morning sun

NO BED SYNDROME

An unfortunate event happened some weeks ago in our country. A 70 year old man fell ill and needed immediate medical attention. Unfortunately, all 7 hospitals he was taken to, including tertiary centers denied him admission on account of having no beds. The man finally died, throwing the nation into chaos. As usual health workers were the culprits and received all the insults possible. Parliament has even considered making it a criminal offense for health workers to deny emergency care. But this is what they all fail to admit. And this is also my take on the whole issue.

I know for a fact, that over the next few months, the inadequacies, inefficiency, savagery, and whatever about health professionals will eclipse the scandals that have befallen our beloved country. Scandals that have caused the nation billions of tax payer’s monies that could have been channeled into making a better health system. These scandals will be forgotten because it did not take a life, neither did it open dead wounds. In fact, the very people at the helm of affairs amidst all these misappropriation of funds, will be the very ones who will call for the heads of health professionals. Why not? Because they are the law makers, and as usual, we are the followers. And as the saying goes, “follow the leader” Majority will side with them, and say enough is enough, bring these professionals to order. Of course, they need to be brought to order, likewise each and everyone in the country whose actions or inactions has in one way contributed to the death of many Ghanaians.

It is sad, and appalling, how life goes by like day and night, and no one cares till one brave person decides to voice his/her experience. They say two things are assured in life; to be born, and to die. Whatever happens in between that, all the better. But of a truth, no one deserves to die, especially to all the departed souls whose demise was as a result of the newly coined “No Bed Syndrome”. Truth be told, when it comes to health, there are only two types of citizens; us, and them. And the other truth is, we will suffer the same fate except them. So, make no mistake, being a health professional does not equate to immortality, and we will all suffer the same fate should we have been in the shoes of the late Mr. Anthony Opoku Acheampong, may his soul rest in peace.

Why? Because they have the resources to get treatment wherever they so wish, and we remain oblivious to the fact that we have been taken for granted for far too long. A different story would have been told if Mr. Opoku Acheampong was a vice president, or a minister, or a member of Parliament, whose leader has just called for criminalizing the “No Bed Syndrome”. I ask, who is to face the charges? Is it that one who have built fancy edifices that consume power but has no output? Is that that person who has trained a lot of professionals who are unemployed? Is it that person who watches for professionals to work hours without considering their wellbeing? Is that person who finds it difficult to pay professionals than sign unnecessary deals? Is it that person who flies outside to treat a headache? Is that person who is so afraid to get treatment in his own country knowing what a shameful system he has in place? Or is it that person who works 48 hours non-stop only to be told there is no money to pay you? Or that person who is so tired, and reckless, and insensitive, and wicked, and lacks compassion and gives a flimsy excuse of no bed?

Much has been said about how human life is valued in other countries, and how health professionals have made themselves demigods in Ghana. However, much has not been said about how health professionals in Ghana are overworked and with little to no equipment. Much has been said about how a relative died due to negligence but none about how their relative’s life was saved. We are so hesitant to say thank you after a successful surgery but too quick to post on social media about all the wrongs that have been done to us. Yes, because this is Ghana, and only God gives life, and to die is a mistake from a health professional. It is depressing but they continue to do their best. It is heartbreaking but they never rest.

I share in the sentiments of other Ghanaians. Some health professionals don’t behave as they are supposed to. It is quite sad, but if you bring your mind to the fact that the famous biblical devil was once a heavenly creature, we need to appreciate the good ones we have. If we can vote for them year in year out despite all their inadequacies, we can likewise push them to do that which is right. Imagine a Ghana where all of them must assess health care domestically, they will definitely put in all the resources needed, hire all the professionals needed, and make life enviable in our beloved country. I speak for all Ghanaians, and I speak for myself as well, for I fear when the unimaginable will happen and I will be told there is no bed.

Long Live Ghana, Long Live Us

KEVIN

Dear Zeus,

She called me. Said a lot of nice things about you. She also told me how much she misses you. But I told her this

He found a lover in you
But you saw just another game
He was no fool
But you brought him close
He was a bear, and you tamed him

You stood him up every now and then
Like it was your stock of trade
He kept calling and hoping
Just so you could see beneath his beautiful
But your pride was more than the pride
You left your cub unattended

Your name never left his lips
But you’d die before they saw you with him
He would have followed you to the edge of the atlas
I know, for it was you or nothing
But you wouldn’t let him in
You kept him in the dark

I had a dream
And he was there for you
He wanted to take your place
He wanted to die in your stead
He wanted to see you live
All he needed was to spare him a glance

You denied him flowers
When he had sunshine
Why plant roses
Now that the sun will shine no more
The dead don’t need your love

Let him be in peace
For he found a lover in the earth
And they are one now
Away from your prying eyes
Safe from your cold heart

Your brother,
Demi-God.

LET’S DANCE

Take off your heels baby
The night is young
And we are even younger
Your feet need a break
They’re craving for my massage

Tonight is a dance of duality
Just you, and me, and the music
Well, nature abounds plenty
Juice from the palm, herbs also
And we’ve never been crazy

Get me some dancing shoes
My feet are cold
And we ain’t need a bed yet
This dancing job?
Let’s make do with our hands and feet

Turn up the music
Higher than the liquor can get us
Scream like I’m in too deep
Shout like the herb’s taken over
For tonight we are free

Take a step back, two forward
Turn around, and your waist
Go down low, and a bit lower
Then come, come to me
My hands around your waist

I like the way you do
You dance so well
It’s gorgeous, and you’re beautiful
Like Torpsichore in Aphrodite
So let’s dance, we have all night

REVELATION 2:11

I walked into the ICU, as I had done for the past three days to review my patient before the hectic day as a house officer starts. This was one who had suffered over 70% burns with inhalational burns as well. I remember seeing him the previous day before I went home. I asked him how he was doing and he was so optimistic. More optimistic than myself because all I could think of was how to end the month since I was as broke as the Trump wall that is even yet to be built. I don’t know what it is with Januarys’. They are just long. I swear, the end of the ocean can be seen clearer than that of January. But he was cheerful, he was happy, he had just finished a cup of yogurt. I bid him goodbye and said to see him the following day.

I walked in as usual, and he had been intubated. I just could think about what had happened over the night. I called him and there was no response. I wasn’t worried because if it had happened, I wouldn’t have come to meet him. He had been sedated. I stood in awe, I couldn’t read my thoughts, I couldn’t feel my energy, I couldn’t see my eyes, but I watched. I watched him for a while, I couldn’t hear what the nurses were discussing, I couldn’t make any sense of anything around me. I was there to go get some plasma for him. I was there to write in his folder as I am obliged to do. I was there to report his progress to my boss. I was there, I was there, and I watched.

Then I remembered his wife used to sit in front of the ICU. I remembered I have to remind her to get people to replace all the units he had received. But I watched. Before I could realize, I was singing…. ‘Say something, I’m giving up on you’ You should find that song if you’ve never heard it. It’s by a duo called, A Great Big World. Quite interesting the name of the duo that composed such and amazing tune. It was playing from a nurse’s phone. It’s one of those songs I used to listen to anytime I felt like I was lonely. But the fact is, I’ve never been lonely. Well, maybe once or twice. But that’s not bad for a silver jubilant and more. Sometimes I wonder why I can’t remember stuff like I do lyrics. Maybe I could have been an upgrade of Einstein and Newton. But I do remember them, especially my Kanye’s. So I started singing.

“Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’ll be the one if you want me to

Anywhere I would’ve followed you 

Say something, I’m giving up on you  

And I… am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

And I… will stumble and fall

I’m still learning to love

Just starting to crawl

  Say something, I’m giving up on you

 I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you

 Anywhere I would’ve followed you 

Say something, I’m giving up on you

  And I… will swallow my pride 

You’re the one that I love 

And I’m saying goodbye

  Say something, I’m giving up on you

 And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you 

And anywhere I would’ve followed you (Oh-Ooh) 

Say something, I’m giving up on you  

Say something, I’m giving up on you Say something..”

I heard another voice that wasn’t mine. A nurse had joined in. She told me about how she witnessed a soul pass and all she could do was watch on. A good friend once said, “Sometimes there’s no need holding on, you just need to let go” and of a truth, it turns out most of the time that there is more healing in letting go. So we sang, and she was a bit surprised. I’m yet to find out if it was my voice, the look on my face, or that we too can sing. But I still watched on.

I felt he was giving up, I felt it was too early to give up. Then I thought about all he could be going through. I thought will it be better if he let go? I thought about the wife always sitting in front there. I thought about the family, and I watched on. I took my pen from my pocket and wrote in the folder, I took the form to go get his plasma, I finally reported of his progress to my boss, just as I am obliged to. The song still lingers in the content within my skull. In fact, I am playing it as I write this very piece. If I think I have issues to deal with, if I think I have scores to settle, I have come to a realization that it can never surpass the Lord’s prayer, “And give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses.” He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.

WELCOME TO HEARTBREAK

I lay my head to rest, but my brain begins to reminesce
It’s a dance of duality, a ying yang
About love, and lost love, and love, and lost love again
The matter of my calvaria needs the calvary
It’s spinning in circles, about to escape the orbit
But I can’t see, feels like I’m radioactive

It’s so loud; the lub-dub, it’s tangible, it’s broken
Maybe, even beyond repair, No! Wait, Yes! Beyond repair
My thoughts, they’re racing with time, and about to win
But my legs, they’re fatigued here, and strong there
How a lover plays with your love and makes you low

The facade, it’s a kingsman, has to be intact, and it’s exhaustive
So at night I lay, shed a few tears, wipe them, and shed more
Hoping, praying, that you come nearer or leave into the nothingness
That my eyes may never behold a fading beauty
And my ears, never to hear whispers of your hellos

It is, indeed, it is, a Rubik’s cube, such a beautiful mess
Not even Rumi can fathom; to bet my last breath on you
I did, oh yes I did; the serendipity, the dilemma, the near but forbidden ecstasy
How life fades, like a man with slit catotids; a peaceful torture
How tides turn, like Saul and Paul, may the gods forgive us

I didn’t come here looking for you, maybe so
I came here looking for the piece of myself I left in you
I came here to return the piece of yourself left in me
I came here not for you, only to take what is mine and give back what is yours
But now I’m here, and don’t know whether to give and take
It’s a trap; don’t fall for it, it’s a dream; wake up

I die inside a thousand times, your eye sees it, your heart feels it
I mean it when I say “I’m not okay”, but nobody knows
How the air I breathe is tainted with so many faint hopes and promises
I write about a girl; I don’t know her, I don’t hate her
But I read; she could have been a flower, but she dropped before she blossomed
Now she’s dead, lower the casket, I can feel her daring us, lower the casket

PSALM 23 : 5

They say God works in mysterious ways, but how mysterious? I can’t say much about that. The controversial creation story, and the tower of Babel alone can give you enough reasons to fathom how mysterious He can be. We shouldn’t forget how He rained manna from above, He made water come from a rock, He sent doves to feed one prophet; not really sure if it’s Sha or Jah, but He did it. He mysteriously guided some small stone to kill a giant, and mysteriously kept someone in the belly of a whale for I think 3 days or so. Blame your Sunday school teacher if you don’t know all these, or better still blame yourself for being that stubborn kid they always said would go to hell.

I remember how I used to love the gospel Psalms. Well I still do. I remember those days when I could recite Psalm 91 like I do Kanye now. God!!! I need to find my way back to the cross. Well, no matter how fallen I am, I can never forget the 23^rd chapter, and the 5^th verse to be precise. At least not until today; a day when scripture was fulfilled in the world of the beautiful game. Not once, but twice, and in a space of 10 minutes, I believed that God works in mysterious ways.

I once heard of the story of David; about how God lifted him from the woods to the throne. And how He prepared a table before him in the presence of his enemies. I know, my faith is nothing to write home about but it is unimaginable, more unimaginable than the ring falling into the hands of a Hobbit, than for a 70 million striker to gift two goals to his fiercest rivals.

Surely, goodness and mercy followed David all the days of his life, but Lukaku needs a shepherd, and he is definitely in want.

MISCHIEVOUS

Take my hand; Let us go
To a land; Far away
Don’t look back; I’ve got you
Don’t forget; I’m with you

Make a choice; I’ve made mine
Don’t be scared; I am strong
Open it up; See your fate
No matter what; Won’t let you down

Let’s play a game; Just us two
Drop your phone; I’m enough
Now you’re smiling; I told you so
Besides me; There’s no one else

Let’s run in rain; Get us wet
Our skins are tough, Impermeable
Let thunder strike; I’ll hold it there
Cos with you; Some strength I find

Pick a fight; I’ve got fists
Take off your heels; We might run
If you can’t run; I’ll take a punch
One, two, or three; I sure can stand

Let’s shoot at stars; Shooting stars
And then what next; We land on Mars
Let’s hoist our flag; Your name and mine
And walk to earth; Like gods on earth

Let’s plan a trip; Mama won’t know
Let’s get the cash; From Dada’s purse
Let’s buy some wood; The land is cold
And make some fire; By our side

Give me a taste; Of your lips
It tastes as good; Your lips are pursed
I need a nap; Your bosom free?
Don’t wake me up; A little more

Let’s take a snap; Then a shot
Get ourselves high; Post our bills
We grab the mic; Sing some thrash
The crowd boos us; We hear just cheers

Let’s go to church; Confess our sins
Don’t leave the rings; We wed tonight
We consummate; The preacher’s late
We do not care; It’s you and me