Our guests today are the pillars of selflessness carried on the shoulders of generations. Time sits across with a measuring eye, calculating every discussion. So I give the guests a moment borrowed from time herself to tell us a little of their era and their achievements.
Nana Tweneboa Kodua I, Paramount Chief of Kwumawu,
stood tall, clad in his dainty truth, he spoke.
His eyes fuming with rage as Okomfo Anokye
dictated the bindings of the gods.
All he could see was the red smeared and painted
tie and tied across all that remained.
He volunteered, with his chest high up,
his black chest heaving with power, energy, dominance.
The red, the danger, the anger.
Then, the action.
His people’s dignity mocked, their very earth unearthed,
their pride buried with it, six feet down.
He led the war and his end was drawn
The head in battle, yet nothing he owned should shield him.
This was his ultimate sacrifice
A death to pacify, an extension to shelter generations
He gave his life for the people of Kwumawu.
And the apprehension of Ntim Gyakari.
The redeemer had won
His legacy was found and formed.
A heroic figure daring among men, spoke up next for her revolution.
The brave Nana Yaa Asantewaa, unruffled and straightened up.
During a time when women were
another appendage, decorated in the kitchen,
she roared in front of men.
Ɔbaa gyata, ɔbaa ɔsisire kwabrafo
She gave them one ultimatum:
Either ahead you go
Or the revolt will run along the side of your women
and stain your dignity.
She said so with a fire in her voice
and settled down majestically in her golden sombre
Oh, how I wish to be in the room
where silence rested on every man’s lips,
as they looked at a human become something divine
raising the fire of revolution in others
to fight against the colonisers.
Next, a well-poised queen took hold of the narrative. A space she held and owned.
Her name, engraved Dode Akaibi,
Ga queen who dominated royalty
sat on the throne of men.
She pointed and war ensued.
She roared furiously
with caution and with signs:
To every man whose ferociousness was aimed at a wife,
to wound and to disfigure,
he would go into the wild
and lay hold of a ferocious beast,
one ferocious beast to the other.
she uttered it in a spit.
Her neck high, she sat, her well-made cloth covering her dark-hued skin.
They all sit with me now.
As I go through time, to get through history, to get through stories.
I have peeled back time, salvaged the past through books
The courage of these ancestors follows me through,
guiding me on the journey ahead.
Their sacrifices don't make them gods.
It shows their humanity,
caught between fear and duty,
yet choosing the path they knew was right.
⤪⤭
Francis Tapeh is a language educator and literature analyst whose work bridges psychology, society, and the human experience. Through essays, poetry, and creative writing, he explores how cultural forces and personal history shape identity, memory, and power. His writing is rooted in critical thinking, narrative inquiry, and a deep engagement with African thought and oral tradition. He also supports research as an assistant, volunteers in community development, and advocates for Pan-African eco-humanitarian values. A lifelong learner, he believes in the transformative power of ideas to heal and rebuild communities.
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