An Elegy – Part 5 By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

                           

Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jnr., Ph.D.
Asia 728x90

    (For Rev.-Col. Eugene Boapea Boamah Sintim[-Brown], Aka Kwaku Brown,

                                   Retired Chaplain-General of the Ghana Armed Forces, 1941-2017)

 

Those dirty

little secrets

we shared

which made you

all too human

and endeared me

to you

the most…

those cigarette packs

you sent me

to buy

for you

on the sly,

lest Auntie Bea

should find out

and confine you

to the doghouse,

catch you

in the act

and crush them

and discard them

in the refuse

bin,

and perhaps

even deliver you

a slap

or two

out of

earshot –

that would be

good money

flushed down

the drain,

her fingermarks

on your cheeks;

you always found

creative ways

to smoke

in one of

the empty rooms

without

being caught,

I would pluck

a green orange

leaf or two

which you chewed

like cud

after a smoke

to muff up

the smell…

the room was

still heavy

with the hint

all right,

but your breath

stuck by

the lie

and we both

stuck by

the line…

once

or twice

when you two

had a spat,

you spent

the night out

in an old

sweetheart’s pad

and bid us

tell a different

tale which was

at once bizarre

and wickedly fun…

for me

any chance

to lay one

on Auntie Bea

was all the more

divinely

fun,

a tit

for tat;

there were often

too many tits

for me

to tat

against her –

the least

fun part

was when I had

to haul in

those little chicks

for you,

set up

the pad

with lantern light

to boot,

my lantern light,

of course,

which meant

I had to sleep

in darkness

as thick as

hell…

then shadow her

stealthily through

the patio in,

lest Grandpa Sintim

caught onto this

catty game of

hide-and-fuck…

eventually,

though,

this delicious sin

would catch up

with you

in the form

and shape of

Maame Florence,

that pretty child

who most

resembled you –

I would later

learn,

with disappointment,

you had tried

to deny

this sweetest

of crimes

which bore

your most striking

imprint,

man and his

twin sib sis

in the mirror

that nearly got you

disrobed…

funny

to say this,

but you were

the tamest

 of all six

of you,

each and every

one of whom

fathered a child

outside

your conjugal

web,

all six of them

daughters,

too,

some karmic

reprisal,

it seemed;

I chose

to do it

backwards

and ended up

in a ditch,

but

it saved me

a lot of debt

I could have owed

but joyfully

dodged,

I won’t blow

for another

to bite

oh,

hell

no…

when I got married

whose sacred rites

you had graciously

and gracefully

performed,

in absentia,

we spoke

by phone

and you heartily

teased all I had

done was

license

to make hay

twenty-four-seven,

which was rather

funny ’cause here

in America,

twenty-four-seven

is exactly

what you can’t

have if you’re

dumb enough

to license

and register it

for twenty-four-seven…

seven over

twenty-four

maybe,

but twenty-four

seven,

must be off

your rockers…

Wofa,

don’t you see

the world

can be funny

sometimes,

funny

like this

daydream

I just had

in which

you were telling me

all these funny jokes

about the women

at your new place

which is almost

exactly like

your old one,

except

everybody

is bloody new

like the newly-

born…

7/16/17

(RIP)