A few months after Odekuro Odieasem Nana Tutubrofo Dankwawura ascended the throne of Sikaman, and during one particularly cool evening as he sat under the royal palms in the gardens of the Ahenfie that sits atop the hill beside the Ehyire river, as he sipped his sobolo fortified with a little something for his stomach, he reflected on the hard and long journey from his days when he was called Willie. He remembered names, names, some of which had been consigned to the pages of time. He thought of the son of He Who Had No Father, his bosom friend. He sighed.
His mental eyes went over the land. His heart was heavy but his soul was grateful. Grateful that there still remained time and chance to appreciate the loyal ones who stood with him. His mind saw and he said to himself, I see.
But Odekuro could not rest, his mind was restless. His beloved Gholoriah saw her husband in deep thoughts and knew she had to leave him to battle on, trusting as always that when he needed her, he would pour forth his inner thoughts and share with her.
Later that night, Odekuro tossed in bed. He could not sleep. Then he woke up and ordered that the book of the chronicles be brought in, the book that contained the records of his struggles right from the days when he tangoed with The Giants, both Gentle and Humble. He wanted to know if there was anyone in there whose dedication and loyalty had not been rewarded.
And, lo, there in the annals were found that in the land of Osei, there was a man who had provided fuel for the soldiers of the struggle, who had given to the troops, who had defended the flag and colours of the elephant that Odekuro rode to victory.
“What honour and recognition was given to this man, whom you call Wofa Eye See?”
“Nothing has been done for him,” his attendants answered.
“What?!” Odekuro bellowed.
He called for his chief adviser, also known as the Wind.
“What can we do for Wofa Eye See that would be commensurate with his valour and dedication?”
The Wind responded, “Long may you live, oh Odekuro! You have asked right. For just yesterday, one of your advisers told me that Wofa Eye See loves to dance and also to travel.”
“Ah!” the King beamed, “then we shall dispatch him to the land south of the Limpopo, to dance with Jay Zee the Zumite, who resides in Soweto.”
So it came to pass that to Soweto went Wofa Eye See.
As for all that Wofa Eye See saw in Soweto, all that he did and the Sikamanians that he catered in the land south of the Limpopo, are they not written in the book of the annals of the emissaries to the Zumite?
However, Wofa Eye See saw that the people of Sikaman do not read and, being afraid that they might not read the annals, he decided to tell his own stories of what had been recorded about him in the annals and what he saw in Soweto.
So it came to pass that when Wofa Eye See returned to Sikaman on his annual visit to the Temple, there was much drumming and dancing and jubilation that he had wrought exploits in the land south of Limpopo. And Wofa Eye See, wearing a linen batakari, danced before the Lord and his people with all his might, and the shout of rejoicing went up from the empeepeetude that thronged the courtyard of the assembly, with the catchphrase “Wofa Eye See! Wofa Eye See!” The louder the chorus, the harder Wofa Eye See danced, dancing just as the Zumite did. And all who saw remarked in admiration, saying to one another “Indeed! Wofa Eye See has been with Jay Zee!”
Then a voice arose among the empeepeetude, saying “Wofa Eye See, speak to us, before we die!” The chorus was picked up and soon there was a loud, repetition of “Wofa Eye See, speak to us, before we die!” reverberating across the courtyard.
Wofa Eye See, with sweat on his brows and same dripping down his beard and running down on the collar of his robes, looked upon the empeepeetude and smiled his blessings, saying to himself, Oh see how they love me!
Then he went to the nearby Sono Mountain and sat then. The empeepeetude still followed him and gathered around him. Then he began to teach them, saying:
“Blessed are the holder of empeeple cards, for their time in come.
“Blessed are those who have mourn in the past under the Hedzolites for they will now be comforted.
“Blessed are the foot-soldiers, for they shall be catered for first.
“Blessed are the owners of the new patriotic passports, for they are more Sikamanian than others.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for political jobs, for their mouths shall be filled with sobolo, asaana and a little pito.
“For man shall not live by bread alone, but with a little Blue band and jam.
“Blessed are the Patrionians, for theirs is the kingdom of God.
“Blessed are you when people truly say that you used to speak against the favouritism that you desire now. Rejoice and be glad, for your time to chop has come and great is your reward here in Sikaman and in the land south of the Limpopo. For in the same way, they lamented and whined against the Hedzolites whose song Yentie Obia they rejected. Know ye, and be comforted, that Sikamanians have the memory of ants, and forget as quickly as the morning dew lasts.
“Do not think that I have come to abolish the ways of politics in Sikaman. I have not come to abolish them but to fulfil them and entrenched them. Verily, verily, I say onto you, until Nii Ayi Bonte relinquishes his stool, not the least of you shall be overlooked for a job before another without an empeeple card. For you are more Sikamanian than all. Take it or leave it.”
The empeepeetude heard these words and were glad. And they went their way, rejoicing and singing the praises of Wofa Eye See.
But some wondered if Wofa Eye See said the mind of Odekuro Tukubrofo. As to that question in their minds, I will leave you to reflect on same, till I come your way with another sebitical.
I still remain: