A dive into the pool of identical nights in the old Africa
Nights ruled by grandparents and every good story teller
The nights flooded with tales that kept us together
Nights that begun with the best games to play
Not games played alone on phones like the ones we have today
Ghana’s Ampe, Nigeria’s Suwe and others, never failed to keep boredom away
We play till we go astray from the day’s stress
And laugh at the ones who are proud of not dirtying their dress
Till story tellers comes with their night’s address
Usually, an old voice’s advice disguised as tales for our delight
And yes, we loved hearing made-up stories under the moonlight
Even the fiercest foes forgo fights for fun at night
To attract eyes passing by the bonfire is used as a bait
No tickets needed, no guard to stand at a gate
For there was no gate, just an open space with lots of ears that can’t wait
Though the serenity of the scene at dry seasons was always a first choice
At rainy seasons, frogs carelessly croaking made our hearts rejoice
Crickets, always expected to chirp to sets the mood for granny’s voice
We encircle the bonfire, so the cold breeze is murdered
The trees shadowed by darkness stood still and ordered
As golden butt fireflies dance with the beauty they invited
Surely, those were good old nights to be an amateur
We’d start what an Akan will call Anansesem (Spider’s story) with an overture
Then silence, as Granny takes us on an adventure
Granny’s shaking voice usually making comedies sad
The interlude follows shorty, led by the village’s funniest bard
We sing it to welcome the part that made wrong-doers feel bad
Yes, the harsh honest advice right after the interlude
Forcing fighting friends to resolve their feud
Compelling all consciences to examine their attitude
An experienced voice teaching us to relax
And resolve feuds by brains and mouths, not by an axe
Words telling us not to roam the street wearing just our slacks
When the night gets old and there are enough sleepy bodies
Dying embers, deepened darkness, and a colder breeze
Tale tellers end their reign with “Go straight home,” commentaries
When the elders depart, then comes teens’ favorite hour
The perfect time to tell our crushes they’re like a star
If your crush is absent oh how unlucky you are
And lucky you if her brother is a friend of yours
After a brief flirting around we start finding our doors
We escort ourselves, usually in groups of fours
Finally, the last two friends living next to each other
Part ways, tiring each other with gossip and laughter
We sleep deeper, even as bats and owls scream louder
now the owls have migrated and the bats are gone
The frogs that croaked grew lazy now they just yawn
clubs are so loud crickets are only heard at dawn
These new nights in Africa we are always apart
so once in a while like today let’s toast and chat
about those nights that deserves a place in our heart
In remembrance, feel the joy nothing can surpass
Close your eyes, raise an invisible glass
Let’s make a toast to memories every night in the old Africa made for us.
cheers!!!
