If it were my native, I’d call upon the breath of my father who art in his abode. I’d raise my hands to the whims of the winds, & say— “this is your son, in whom you’re well pleased. Let me be.” But this, in this, I cannot seem to re-write what I undoubtedly rephrased years ago. So, when I recall those memories, it’s like it all ended in tears or, maybe, I haven’t yet lived to see the reward of my beginning.
Like divinity has taught us in the holy books, there was an ascension. Whether or not the account was recorded in the East, is what I don’t know. Was there a bridge that connected those of righteous deeds to heaven & those of evil to hell? But I know, it’d be weird to think there was a bridge to climb up there—but, what if there was? Like in Papa’s tales during the cold evenings, how he manages to conjure very touching songs of praise & sometimes, even doom to the antagonists.
There’s this tale he told where he quoted a proverb that, “the one who breeds fowls never lacks eggs.” But now, I’ve broken my eggs trying to climb this African bridge, I guess. As you made it very clear how important it is to take it step by step, & keep the ordinances. & not be in haste—I kept those words, never flaunted them & hoped for someday, heaven, where you are. But today, I write a poem. One which tells us the bridge that connects an African hustle & heaven has ordinances—& I violated them; I broke its oath.
While I write this poem, I wouldn’t mind if I begin with Africa or heaven. All I know is there’s a bridge which is strong, but also, broken—London bridge has fallen down? When I climb & begin to feel like giving up, I find no spot to hook my eyes & so, I descend. & when I descend, I take the short root & gain ascendancy. But, the bridge isn’t a clear path to heaven. Or, maybe, I’m climbing on to nothing but just air; & missing the steps. If I’m not missing, then why do heaven’s gate keeper send me back? For anything, I thought I had heaps of eggs ready to be delivered to our nation—but, all are burst! One remains—the toil to hell. & when you come back to me, don’t tell me that’s what happens when the ordinances between the African bridge & heaven are violated.
blessed are the steadfast; they shall be given a free pass to heaven—with no african bridge.
now. crawled if i could i walked if i could. even danced & hopped. in my own way, i tried to take a step further, beyond these clouds i climb with care. as there was humour nothing but just air.
air that carries you nowhere in those tales, father told them with a chorus in the cold of our day everlasting & sweet— the golden bridge of ours has proven its real self & maybe, i haven’t violated.
or, i haven’t yet seen the reward of my beginning. so i’ll pray & pray. till there’s mercy this is your son, in whom you’re well pleased. & then, i’ll be.
As I narrated in my very last literary breakdown—my commitment, consistency and hardwork—off being regular and in content-wise, inconsistent on my blog that there are quite a few submissions I made elsewhere and committed to blog about them all when they’re finally published.
The wait is over! The much awaited Issue 2—Transit—is live! And guess what, I’m featured in there! I’m so thrilled to announce the publication of two poems of mine in the 2nd Issue of the Artmostterrific.
Many thanks to Aremu Adebisi (Antagonist) & his team for accepting “When you reap what you sow, it’s accounted as faithfully yours” & “the voice that crawled under my left breast has left me in wonder,” and for putting such a great piece of work (Prose, Poem & Artwork) from undergrads all over the continent together, it’s a massive win for Africa & the world!
I’m recognized under the pseudonym—Kwabena Benyin—please, feel free to dive in & read me here.
Also, you get the opportunity to connect with about 29 pieces, from 29 incredible & brilliant writers all over the continent. You must really hop in there!
took a glance this morning through ‘the article’ : Harry Odamtten’s “Dode Akabi: A Reexamination of the Oral and Textual Narrative of a “Wicked” Female King.”
Akaabi, who historical facts recalls to be the first female monarch of the Ga people , a coast-dwelling people in Ghana and the founders of Ghana’s capital city , Accra . Technically , Akaabi is also the only woman to have led a major ethnic group in the Gold Coast that became Ghana .
a thing which is even more interestingly noting is , while it is , till date , recorded that she was not even Ga by birth , Akaabi manly became the first non-Ga ruler of the Ga state . she was a princess of the Awutu , a southern people who trace their heritage to the Guan , the earliest known people to settle in the geographical area now called Ghana .
other striking inputs this article emphasizes is that , it is quite plausible that the narrative about Akaabi is guided by anti-woman motivations when the qualities she exhibited would have been described in positive terms of men .
and what is mostly not said is that Akaabi also led the Ga into battles and won . some historians credit her with certain territories secured in the early 16th century by the Ga .
“This critical social history thus throws light on the evolution of the place of women in Ga politics, as well as female identity, power, and rights of succession within an acknowledged patrilineal society. It shows the un- fortunate fate of Akabi, who, prompted by her heritage, marriage, maternal instincts, and sheer force of personality, thrust herself into the leadership of a patrilineal Ga society. Ga men, perhaps insulted by Akabi’s tenacity and alleged “masculinity,” not only buried her alive, but also covered up her redemptive qualities, choosing only to remember her as a wicked woman. In Ga cosmology, Akabi’s burial is explained as a form of musu kpamo, whereby a collective sacrifice is made to balance or restore the moral order.99 The moral order that was under restoration was likely the matter of male boundaries that Akabi had supposedly trespassed.”
you & all who’s into reading long articles (academic works) , & has access to Project Muse , you may want to explore too . or ,
alternatively reach out to me and i’ll share the .pdf with you .
You might find yourself reading this very post right now and actually, absolutely stunned—because you must’ve missed the magical content produced in the last three or so months on this blog. If you’ve been following this blog and kept anticipating good things from me, well, I must say I salute you for keeping yourself glued over here even when I took this unexpected break. Your loyalty is really appreciated, Lovelies!
There’s a very specific reason I took this break off and there’s actually been so much that has transpired during this my silent phase, which I’d so much want to unveil to y’all my special followers, since it might somehow interest you one way or the other to also try, maybe.
Why the silence?
Since I started my journey in blogging seriously, I’ve always kept content posted on this very blog as and when necessary. My very good friend, Lia admonished me, that I share my experience with my followers when I explained to her why I lately haven’t been consistent on my blog and the reason for my short turn and I’m not holding back on that, because I figured this might be of some help to you. I took a turn away from my blog to submit for publications such as Anthologies, Issues, Mags etc. This particular turn has been really fruitful and has taught me so many things that I needed in my writing journey. I must say the experience I have gained during this short period is very transforming, and I appreciate the writing community and friends on Twitter especially so much for that!
My writing and submissions have been consistent and inconsistent at the same time. Because, I’d never tasted of how your work, as a writer, when it’s been rejected, felt like. Or, what receiving an acceptance email felt like. When rejections came in, before, I had no idea the kind of discomfort and pain one has to go through for such an experience. Yeah, because, having the courage to send your work out means that you trust your work to be so good that it being rejected wasn’t a part of what you would’ve projected. The kind of disappointment and inconvenience that this issue brings is a whole madness on it’s own. I had sometimes gotten so bored at those rejection emails that I decided not to send any work out again; that’s where the inconsistency in my writing comes to play.
But, after giving myself time to digest the feedback, I’m able to turn my mediocre work into a masterpiece, which I’m so thankful for. Sometimes, I’d spend more time editing rather than just hurrying to complete and submit them–it was in the editing process that I most at times, realized some of the works weren’t thoroughly edited to my satisfaction. Now, I’ve found out that my favourite thing about writing is the editing process. I’d rather make the draft into a masterpiece than just send any partly edited work out there. It’s either “edited” or “don’t send at all!” During editing, I’m very particular about making each line, syntax, grammar, internal consistencies, factual accuracy, punctuation and spelling sound. I’ve also noticed I develop a fresh pair of eyes to review my works each time I turn back to it—that gives me the kind of flow, smoothness and all the dexterity I need in my writing. I’m still working on it to this day, anyway! This should be a thing of quite lasting note to those of you who’ll also want to verge on this journey, never ever stop editing your works, especially when it’s rejected from a thing!
Now, I’ve found out that my favourite thing about writing is the editing process. I’d rather make the draft into a masterpiece than just send any partly edited work out there. It’s either “edited” or “don’t send at all!” During editing, I’m very particular about making each line, syntax, grammar, internal consistencies, factual accuracy, punctuation and spelling sound. I’ve also noticed I develop a fresh pair of eyes to review my works each time I turn back to it—that gives me the kind of flow, smoothness and all the dexterity I need in my writing.
On days when my works are accepted, I smile at those edifying acceptance emails because the sense of fulfilment is so astonishing and yet, deserving. The cheer that lingers on my face alone is so big, wide that it could cover the width and breadth of the sea (LOL). After, sometimes, there’s also the need to work with the publisher’s editor and it’s all a thrilling experience because it was my first time. I submitted the most this year and the past year, been rejected and disappointed the most yet I still keep submitting (That’s a plus for me you know … I deserve the accolades, yesss!). Even as it’s a painstaking process, I know it’s a good habit. So, I’ll just keep it going, and never stop. Be sure to write all the bad poems & essays if every draft is a step closer to a good one. I’ll keep writing and not wait for permissions or when a thing is opened for submissions because in that, I’m finding my voice and discovering my style.
Even as it’s a painstaking process, I know it’s a good habit. So, I’ll just keep it going, and never stop. Be sure to write all the bad poems & essays if every draft is a step closer to a good one. I’ll keep writing and not wait for permissions or when a thing is opened for submissions because in that, I’m finding my voice and discovering my style.
Anticipate what?
I’m actually grateful for everyone who’s checked in to see whether there were new contents posted here. Behind the scenes, as already explained, I’ve been the busiest working back and forth in the literary space.
My hopes are that you may have stumbled upon some of my works published elsewhere in some spaces. Better still, I’ve made a whole lot of submissions ranging from genres such as poetry to poetry essays. I have one poem, “Of colour, not of myrrh—when a body’s eye is ear & not of only eye” published on the Gen Writers Club issue publication.
Also, my poem, “The Morning that Lied” is forthcoming in the Contemporary Ghanaian Writers Series’ (CGWS) “Balance” anthology. My poem “When you reap what you sow, it’s accounted as faithfully yours” is also forthcoming in “Issue 2” of the Artmostterrific publication. There’s a poem , “How a womb breaks into triple laughter” also forthcoming in the ASSmag Debut volume publication. In the ANKH December publication, I have two (2) poems, “when you were a child, but you grew into this” and “I’m told of a rapture; how it did happen” forthcoming.
Since these are not yet published I’ll be sure to notify you when they’re finally published so you guys check them out. There are some few submissions which haven’t reached their response time yet, hopefully they’d also be accepted and published so I can blog about them on here (So, wish me luck!).
Now, apart from those works I submitted to a thing, I’ve a few which I wrote and would be posting them here as time goes. Keep yourself checked in as you’ve always done. 😉 So you see, your boy’s been at it all this while!
More so, there are other types of genres I’ve recently been considering to write on. I’d so much make it known to you y’all as and when I’m well certain of it, LOL. But welp, as you’ve already known, posting will now be consistent—because there are a lot more works to share to the world. So yesss, Cheers!
But until then, a [late] happy new year to you, & hoping to read all your wonderful works too soon. :‑X
i liked this short story so much , and hope that you enjoy it too!
this story portrays the state of possible “not sane” psych-space , trauma that even a person could go through . this is quite prevalent in our setting . it’s intriguing , and should be of much interest to you , and especially if you’re in some parts of Africa .
The mental health of young African boys is suppressed and slaved away. Parents, friends, society diminish the emotions and pain of our men.
From the C.B.I. Theater of operation Roundup newsletter came this poem of wisdom. Just something to keep in mind – no matter what theater of operations OR which war the veteran emerges from…. THE CONVERSION When bugles sound their final notes And bombs explode no more And we return to what we did Before we […]
Who is Benyin? Benyin is the ever-young one, he rubs love in tenderness Magnificent in his good thoughts His smiles are weaved in the arms of hearts Benyin’s teeth spits out wells of happys and kinds
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Who is Benyin? Benyin is bright as a morning star In the noon he says he’s splendorous in sorrows But at nights he waits for the calm in patience He says he is best; because he is excellent in himself
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Who is Benyin? Benyin with meek voice, will give you tickles When he sings, the wind and breeze submit in all glory He stems a well collected conducts and character In him is all roots of humbleness
/V
Who is Benyin? Benyin’s has big eyes which glows as one nourished in an angel’s calabash He is nurtured, well comported He is interesting— he will caress your laughter in ripples this is Benyin
AS WRITTEN BY BENYIN 