By Isaac Karikari (bkkarikari@yahoo.com)



Oh Ghana!

Here cometh Obama,

On his tour,

He steps on your shore.

Is this “a nothing”, or a sign,

Of favour divine?



Oh Ghana!

Here cometh Obama,

The bells peal.

Not for Mills or Mahama,

But for Ghana.

And for our ailments, I wonder,

What magic pill?



Here cometh Obama,

With his Michelle in tow.

To no place but Ghana.

But in some Ogas mind, he’s stooped low

And in shame, his head, must bow.

But isn’t that only some discordant voice,

Eyes gone green, because Ghana is the choice?



With the wizened,

Choices are not about mere numbers and quantity

But content and quality.



This is meritocracy.

Honour earned by the credentials of our democracy.



Come Obama

And get some pampering-

Comforts you may never get back at home,

Right here under Ghana’s dome.



Here cometh Obama.

Prez Mills, for Blak, give no stage.

That guy is no sage.

In Atukwei or Ama we’ve got great bards.

They can offer odes or ballads,

And even string together the lyrics

That make fitting panegyrics.





I like the cool civility now.

The thing with a single Eye has been leashed.

And the daggers have been sheathed.

Some white flags we hoist

As America’s Prez, we host.



It’s as a feuding couple, their hostilities, cease.

Upon a person of honour’s entrance,

They, by reason, broker a deal of peace

But that is momentary, and only superficial

They start again, with the person’s absence,

Shredding themselves apart, piece by piece.



What will post-Obama Ghana be like?

Will the rabid barks in the corridors resume?

And the mobs of morbidity, the reins, assume?



Obama cometh,

And I wonder,

Would he be briefed on all the disasters?

The Bawku brawl, and those who fell

The Kumasi inferno, and the things that became toast

The rain, and the number slain

And how it’s all added to the state’s cost,

With the hope that

He’ll offer some relief, for our grief.



Would he be told,

How some emptied the coffers

Broke the economy, and got sectors into coffins,

Fit for nothing but burial,

Until Doc Duff’s wonderful resuscitation?



Would he get to hear about the cars,

The mud slinging and tarnished reputations

And how some have been left with scars?



What will the spinners spin?

And what will the propagandists propagate?



I’ve heard talks of some Obama cloth,

And seen pictures too.

Akosua’s Daily Guide cartoon

Was not just another lampoon.

My ears have also been privy to talks of a plot

And I’ve read an article or two.



Here cometh Obama,

Let’s cease, the political dogma.

All that is needless

Let’s stop the political madness.

Let’s show some class

And avoid any bit of political crass.



(For now at least)

(Let’s not make ourselves less).



(Even among the average and ordinary)

In the corners of our heads

And the deep recesses of our hearts

Lurk some thoughts:



On this visit, so brief.

Any package of relief,

Though his land still reels under the crush of the crunch?



Or in their American dreams

Our oil streams

Have become a prominent feature

Spelling great prospects for the future?



To your land, oh Ghana

Cometh Obama

With his Michelle in tow.

Is he coming to grow,

Some American grain?



What will be our gain?