There was once a powerful, selfish and arrogant king who ruled his kingdom with an iron fist. He believed himself to be a god-king, superior to everyone else. He taxed his people heavily, shielded his officials and family from public scrutiny and punished anyone who dared to disagree with him.

One day, a great earthquake struck and the king was buried under the rubble of his own palace. As he lay trapped and helpless, he realised that his arrogance and wickedness had blinded him to the suffering of his people, and noticed the fragility of his own power.

As the king waited for rescue, he heard the voices of his people, who had come to dig him out. But instead of rushing to save him, they began to discuss whether he was worth saving at all. They remembered his cruelty, his extravagance, and his disregard for their well-being.

The king perceived that his arrogance had led to his downfall. He begged for forgiveness, but it was too late. The people left him buried, a symbol of the end of his arrogant and selfish reign.

And with that, he took his last breath, a lonely and defeated man. The kingdom was finally free from his tyranny, and the people rejoiced at their newfound freedom.

The story teaches that arrogance and selfishness can lead to one's downfall and that the consequences of one's actions will ultimately catch up with them. The end of an arrogant person is often a lonely and humbling experience, a reminder that true greatness comes from humility and compassion.

I get tetchy when I wake up every morning to Yaanom's raucous call for the need to break "the eight" based on their wonky claims of using a superior strategy when they know very well that they have woefully disappointed the people.

The truth is that Yaanom risk becoming a victim of their own diabolical intents. They are treading a slippery trajectory, and discerning Ghanaians are watching. They may have had their way in the past, but this time around they will meet their match - a wonkish grandson of a Gonja warrior!

An Akan proverb says that when you meet someone carrying a pot of water, you can drink as much as you can; but walaahi, when you are not fortunate and meet someone carrying a Kufour gallon full of "apio" then you are in trouble; and that is exactly what will happen to Yaanom.

A child destined to die will not survive even if he or she is put under the armpit of the Pope. And I think that is the fate of our friends. Oya, I have to rehearse my gadindim dance steps for the final funeral rites of the Elephant.

You can join me now: gadindim-gadem, gadindim-gadem, gadindim-gadem.