Wpid Letter
I Enjoy My Sugar Daddy More Than My Boyfriend

Dear Kwame Red (12)

By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

It is rather pathetic
how some of your legion
fan-fools have resorted to
pounding your name
and memory
into clayey pulp
which they readily
and vacuously knead
expediently…
now they have
converted you into
the genius
Singaporean-Chinese
acrobat and
political juggler,
though you were
merely a trickster
and ballot-stuffing
mischief-maker,
a thug
par-excellence…
and so now
your new name is
Lee Kuan Show-Boy,
the Midas-endowed
premier whose
extortionate
and bloody reign,
had you been allowed
to pursue
the same,
would have led
to the deft molding
of Ghana into
West Africa’s
Singapore:
fat chance!
we might just as well
chalk West Africa’s
EU for Balewa
and Azikiwe…
some much for
drunken
speculations;
if I didn’t know
their innate dishonesty
so well,
I would have said
my people are
either retarded
or clinically
demented…
this much
I know,
my people have
the memory
capacity
of chickens…
Kwame Red,
who doesn’t know
you were too
extroverted
and
megalomaniacal
to be paired
with Lee
Kuan
Yew,
astute
lawyer and
lawmaker and
mind-your-own
business
progressive
pilot,
no suicidal
co-pilot he,
Prime Minister
Lee Kuan
Yew,
no drunken
busybody
Kuan Yew
who stretched
every sinew
of his muscles
and sweated out
every drop
of his blood
and water
in his body
and vein
to gloriously hoist
the flag of his
island state
and with it,
the image
and stature
and high quality
of life
on his shoe-shaped
island state…
Singapore,
unbested
maritime gem
of the Pacific,
sedate and
sedulous in your
collective dreams
and goals and
the dogged pursuit
of the same –
no splurging
ere the humblest
of your clan
have eaten
to their fill…
that was not
Kwame Red,
that much
I know –
age is just
a class concept,
not a clearly definable
group measuring rod
as such…
age is performance-
neutral,
what matters
is diligence and
presence
of mind;
in your case,
My Dear Kwame Red,
it was a scandalous
failure to
exercise
the mind
body and
soul –
splurge
the happiness,
not work
and
happiness,
the kind of
intellectual
laziness
that is no
lethargy
at all,
but sheer mischief
and moral
decay…
the way we
love our dead
who while alive
courted
our fury and
resentment,
for coldly
trampling our
aspirations
and hopes,
“Countrymen,
if you cannot
think creatively
’cause you cannot
chew gum
to litter
our plazas,
try bananas,
you tofu-heads,”
yes,
if you cannot
sail with
the tide
on your
back,
stay right
ashore…
with you
Kwame Red,
though,
the choice
was between
Vesuvius and
Gehena,
which is why
I cannot
understand why
those who danced
and peed
on your grave,
now claim
you were
their icon
all along –

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.