Why I Gripe – a poem

Too many thoughts
As I go through
The gates of my mind

Resisting the urge for comparison
But then again reflecting
On this poem
I have been musing over
For the past few weeks

Why I Gripe

When I gripe about my land
It is not because
We haven’t come
Any further
Than when we started off
But because
We could have gone
Much further

Why I Gripe
When I gripe
It is not because
I don’t see
That we are better
Than most of our neighbours
But because
Today when you talk
About neighbours
It is not geographical
Gut global
Without borders

Why I Gripe
When I gripe
It is not
For the fact
That we are better
Than the worst
But because
We are worse
Than the best

Why I Gripe
When I gripe
It is not because
I am not thankful
But because
I can see
That what we see
As the future potential
Is what should have been
Our present

Why I Gripe

©Nana A Damoah, 2013


Have You Celebrated Someone Today?

When Komla Dumor passed on to glory, Yaw Nsarkoh asked a question that has never left my mind:

“Do we celebrate one another enough?”

Especially whilst the persons are alive?

And it is not about huge eulogies.

It is about the respect we show one another

It is about the feeling for one another

It is about not saying “if it is stuck in someone else’s body, it is stuck in a tree stump”

It is about not tearing one another down

It is about not lying in wait for someone to stumble so we snicker

It is about rejoicing with others when they make it

It is about being happy when someone makes it as well

It is about celebrating our daily triumphs

It is about helping each other along

Have you celebrated someone lately?

NAD, 240118

​Curiosity Ate the Cat and Other Sentences

© Nana Awere Damoah, 160917
(With contributions from Marricke Kofi Gane, Ace Anan Ankomah, Abena Afriyie, Prosper Afuti, Johnnie Beresford Hughes and Abdul Rasheed Zakari Mcim)
Curiosity ate the cat

But Satisfaction restored it to Life

Life, it was, who said

That he who laughs last is humor-thargic
Don’t count your chicks before you buy the mother hen

And do not put all your eggs in one frying pan

That would be an Eggstravaganza

Says my friend Prosper Zagbadza

Or in one fridge

Else you go cringe
Fortune favours the banku

And ignores the akple

Give a man a fish and he will expect kenkey

Give out what you can afford to lose

Else, give credit only where credit is collected by Unique Trust
A journey of a thousand miles better begin with a bowl of waakye

For an army marches on its kanto
A bird in hand will make great pepper soup

The early bird gets drenched with dew

Half a loaf requires less Blue Band margarine

Let sleeping dogs nowhere near Kwasi Chung
A little learning becomes evident on Facebook posts

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool that to smile and reveal your yellow teeth
Empty barrels are easier to roll

He who pays the piper cannot be the piper

Don’t judge a book by its colour

Especially in Ghanaian politics

Absolute power corrupts until the next elections

Especially during election years

Beware of Greeks speaking Ga

Answering, to every difficult question

“Oh, we will cross the bridge in the dry season”

Better the devil you don’t know at all

Birds of the same feathers chop together

“Cheaters never win” and whoever said that hasn’t visited Ghana

Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you o

After all

Fools rush in where politicians point them to
The pen is mightier than the politician’s promise

Better you listen now rather than later

‘Cos a stitch in time uses less thread

And prevents the armpit of the dress from tearing further

Don’t bite the hand you use to feed

Or bite it and use a spoon
You may choose to ignore the message

By shooting the messenger

But never shoot the messenger without an alibi

Don’t get mad, alone
After a storm comes the Mayor and the AMA, asking for building permits

And sermonizing, with plenty lyrics


God ‘elps those who can’t say “help” themselves

All be shakara, political gimmicks
He who lives in a glass house 

Must not dress in the day

Or only when DumCG is on duty

Appearances can be deceptive but smell is not
A trouble shared is wahala


Because a problem shared is a problem that can trend

Barking dogs seldom keep secrets
All that glitters woos the Chinese man

And two wrongs made Rashida black beauty infamous
Since Charity is at home

And Brevity is,

Do as I say and say no more

For me, I turn to my bed to sleep

For early to sleep, early to snore

​Waakyenometric Observations

with inputs from Naa Oyo Kumodzi and Elsie Dickson

You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when she has no meat but rather chicken
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when she has no boiled egg but rather spanish omelette
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when she has no wele but rather sausage
You know it’s a Wasa woman behind the waakye when the stew is splashed onto the waakye, like thick palmnut soup, instead of being spread
You know it’s a Ga woman behind the waakye when the gari is as exotic as kpokpoi
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when baked beans is added to the ‘salad’
You know it’s a Ga woman behind the waakye when the waakye is sticky and can be eaten like Ga Kenkey
You know it’s a Bono woman behind the waakye when she has bush meat as part of the “accessories”
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when the fish is broasted
You know it’s an Anlo woman behind the waakye when the waakye is served with a side of akpavi kalami
You know it’s an Asanti woman behind the awaakye when she has smoked poku fish instead of fried fish, and she breaks off what you buy from the main one
You know it’s an Ewe woman behind the waakye when the gari is mixed with one-man-thousand
You know it’s an Kwahu woman behind the waakye when she sells the stew and shito separately from the waakye. You pay more you want stew or shito, or go home to use your own shito and/or stew
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when sardine is added to the ‘salad’
You know it’s a Fanti woman behind the waakye when you can buy sardine instead of fried fish
You know it’s a Ga woman behind the waakye when stew has more pepper than the shito
You know it is overrated and overpriced when the waakye queue is too long 
Yet you know you will queue nevertheless if you are in the spirito-waakye-realm
Because you know that only the partaking in this food of foods would peace reign in your culinary soul 
Let me know when you find your rib of waakye
Happy waakye morning!
© Nana Awere Damoah, 040817
Pic credit: Abena Asantewaa Krobea

​A Mathematical Love Song in Z-Major

**A poem in response to Kofi Akpabli

From the first time 

I encountered you within

The three sides of

The isosceles triangle 

You have engulfed me

In the warmth of your


Mesmerized me in your matrices

Thrilled with your trignometry

And seduced me with your symbols

I have travelled 

Along your cartesian coordinates

Gone through alpha lows and zeta highs

Briefly plateauing at pi 

And tango-ing at theta 

And even ventured further

Taking our love affair from x and y 

Planes into the z-plane

You serenade me with your surds

Perambulating with me along 

Parabolic curves

You integrated me within

Intricate polynomials

Differentiated from normal integers

You have shown me affection 

In simultaneous equations      

I quake with fervour at

The intensity of your quadratic passion

You get me giggling silly 

With your lorgorligi logarithms 

You take me to the edge

Yet we seem not to touch 

Those edges

Close, always asymptomatic 

The gradients of our love affair 

Defy the principles of Archimedes

The Welstrass-Bolzano theorem 

And even the ubiquitous 

Pythagoras theorem 

Oh Mathematics! 

You take my breath away!

I love thee 

To infinity…

To the power n+1!
(c) NAD, 06112016 
*Picture is of a plate mat, taken at a restaurant in Athens. Took a copy of it as a souvenir. 

Ghana @59

Ghana is 59
Should I rant
Or dance
Sikaman is 59
Should I pray
Or play
At 59 I ask
Ama Ghana
Which is
Brighter –
Your future
Or your past
Ghana is 59
Should I hope
Or cope
My nation is 59
May God make
Ghana great
And strong

(c) NAD, 060316

Tended Garden

When we speak about love

Hardly do we mention

That love is also painful

Love has cheers

And tears

Love is conscious

Love needs work

And repair

Love needs renewal

And maintenance

Love needs determination

To those

Celebrating love

Keep at it

Don’t let it become

An untended garden

Happy Vals Day


Opia’s Opium

Give him
To watch
The Stars
And he will
That you
Denied him
To make
His time
Before and
After the
Play of
The Stars
Give him
That opium
Give him

(c) Nana A Damoah, 050215

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